Group Therapy, a Vision Spring Prologue

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Group Therapy

I was early. I made my way from the entrance of this non-descript building in the industrial sector of town. The door to room said “Group meeting” It also had the building logo on the door, saying that the building was managed by a company called Vision Spring Inc. I filed the name for future reference, and entered.

The leader of the group got to the front of the room, and said, “If I can have everyone’s attention, I think we are ready to begin. Before we officially start,“ and then she pointed to me and said, “I would like to introduce to you all Dorothy Colleen, who we discussed sitting in on our session last week. “

“As we decided, we feel the positives of having Dorothy relate our stories outweigh any negatives. As we discussed, Dorothy will not use your names, or any details that would identify you unless you give her permission to do so.”

She continued, saying “I also want to mention for Dorothy’s record our gratitude to the company that has given us this space rent-free, and provided everything we need to have our meetings here. We owe a great deal to them, so I would like to thank them. The company is the owner of this building, Vision Spring.”

She then gestured to an attractive woman in one corner, and said, “Hun, maybe you should start, because you were the one most in favour of doing this.”

The woman stood, and gave me a glare. “I was in favour of doing this, because I have read the fictionalized account of my ordeal that has been posted on the ‘Net. And I know that a lot of people like Dorothy have ‘enjoyed’ reading it. So I want those people to know that I was a real person, and I didn’t ask for what happened to me.”

The two closet people to her touched her in support, and she took a breath, and carried on. She said, “I was an ordinary guy. I made a mistake, I cheated on my wife. I deserved to lose her, to get booted to the curb. But that wasn’t good enough for my wife.”

“ She found a drug, that would make me her puppet, make me unable to do anything but what she told me to do. Once she had control of me, she decided to humiliate me, and to force me to humiliate myself.”

“She forced me to get rid of all my male clothes, and to wear woman’s clothes in public. For a while, she allowed be to hide my blouses under a jacket at work, but made me take the jacket off for lunch at a nearby mall, so anybody near would see the blouse and the bra I was wearing under it.”

“Bit by bit, I was forced to make myself more and more feminine, and I couldn’t even tell anybody it wasn’t my idea. Then every night she made me write what I had been forced to do, and she published it as fiction online. Every time, I ended by begging for help, and never got any.”

“At a some point, I lost hope. I felt like I was going totally insane, having to act happy that I had turned into some kind of feminized sissy. People at work were laughing at me, I was totally alone. Worse, guys were hitting on me, assuming I was either gay or maybe even a girl.”

“Then she decided to push it even further. Soon it wasn’t even enough that I was wearing woman’s pants, she had me in skirts and dresses, heels, the whole thing. Not only that, she finally revealed to me that I had been taking hormones since almost the beginning of my ordeal. She made me change my name, and I realized it was never going to end until nothing of my male life was left. “

“I had only one way out- and that was to retreat from reality. I stopped fighting her, I just totally gave up, and even made myself believe that I wanted what was happening. She started getting bored, and ended up taking me to a B D S club, and after showing how submissive I was, offered me up to the highest bidder.”

“The owner of the Club, a man named Alex ended up buying me. He convinced my wife to have me get sex-reassignment surgery. She agreed, thinking that I would try and object, but I was too far gone to care even about that.”

“After the surgery, Alex had me participate in a commitment ceremony. It looked like a wedding, except I was swearing to be the total slave and property of Alex for as long as I lived.”

“After the ceremony, he got my wife to sign over all control to him, and then took me to his apartment for a ‘honeymoon’ Whatever was left of my identity watched this with a sense of sadness, thinking that this meant I would now be his slave instead of hers, but it would still never end. But in his apartment, he surprised me. Instead of having me serve him, he set me free.”

“Seems he hated the idea of someone being a submissive for any other reason than because that is what they were. He apologised for having to make me have the surgery, but he needed to convince my wife that he was going to use me, so she would give him the control so he could set me free”

“He found a place for me to stay while I recovered myself. It took a while for me to really believe him, and longer still for me to learn to take control of my own life again. I considered trying to bring my wife to justice, but it would be hard to prove she did anything wrong without making her formula common knowledge, which would be a disaster. “

“Instead, with Alex’s help, I have made a good life for myself. He has even taught me how to be dominant, and I work at his club as a dom. I learned there is nothing wrong with submission or domination as play or as a fantasy, but respect for the other person is a key ingredient in any real relationship. I hope your readers remember this when they read a story like mine.”

I was silent. I felt guilty for having read stories like hers, assuming that they were fiction, and never thought of what such a situation would do to a real human being. I thanked her for sharing her real story with me, and congratulated her on recovering from such abuse.

The rest of the group shared their stories in turn. I had heard or read stories like theirs on the ‘net, and in each case what sounded good, even erotic as fiction was horrible when turned into reality.

I think the saddest story I heard was a pair of fraternal twins, who had been forced to switch places and live as each other under threat of torture. I wept after they were finished. I thanked them all, and soon, they were filing out of the room, and I was left with the group leader.

“Thank you for letting me sit in:” I said.

“You are welcome. I hope it gives your readers something to think about.” She said.

“I do have one question, however,” I said, “What is the story about this company you mentioned, Vision Spring?”

“I really don’t know much,” she said. “ They are apparently a charity created by a multi-national corporation, but beyond the fact that they seem to really want to help the GLBTGQ community, I don’t have any information on them“

“That doesn’t strike you as a bit odd?” I asked, “I mean, most companies make a big deal of charity contributions, not try and hide them”

“Well, our community doesn’t have the sympathy that crippled children do. But I do have a picture here of the representatives who gave us this place” she said.

We went to her office, and she pulled out a photo of her shaking the hands of two people. One was a tall, slender woman and the other was a short heavy-set man with a cane and a scar on his face.

She said, “ I remember them saying that our group was the first major project they were funding in this area, and they would be looking for more ways to assist our community. So you might be hearing more about them soon.”

Looking at the photo, and sensing something hidden in the smiles of the two, I had a feeling I would.

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Comments

Interesting story, hope you

Interesting story, hope you will continue with it.

Group Therapy

Vision Springs sounds a lot like The Home That Love Built in concept. I for one hope that Vision Springs becomes reality.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine