u/Electrical-Total-744

My name is Dillon Barker. I graduated in the top percentage of my class from the Cambridge Psychology department years ago and was now a rather successful 30 year old, bald and bearded white man. Some of my patients would tease me calling me names like “Freud,” but I took pride in trying to actually connect with my patients and get on their level. In this field, many professionals became callous and detached from their patients. Before I became jaded like the rest, I wanted to try to see things from the perspective of my patients. Maybe that’s why I’d often get calls for special cases.

I was asked to come to the Maple Hills rehabilitation clinic after a staffing shortage met a troubled individual. I’d been reading Ms. Marshall’s file and allowed to observe a couple interviews she had with her current but retiring psychiatrist, Dr. Holmes.

After meeting with him, I told the doctor I agreed with much of his diagnosis, but had some concerns. There were indeed signs of the disorders he was noting. The patient, Ms. Marshall, was showing the symptoms of multiple disorders. Kleptomania, compulsive lying, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and potentially even early signs of schizophrenia which was unusual for a woman in her early 20’s. A look a family history showed no hereditary issues, but did reveal a neglected upbringing couple with parents that seemed out of touch with their daughter. The file noted that they “busted wanted their baby girl back.”

I found myself shaking my head as I read through the document. My main concern was the leading manner of questioning I’d witnessed during the interviews as well as the Dr. Holmes’s plan for medication therapy as opposed to a direct approach on her underlying, neglected personality issues.

So, with my specialist authority, I immediately set up a proper interview with Ms. Marshall. She was as dismissive of me as she entered the room and plopped onto the couch as she had with Dr. Holmes. This was expected. Maple Hills was a sort of “luxury” clinic with many individuals from more well off families using this facility for rehab care. Thus, patients were allowed a tad more freedom than in our cases even in the psyche ward. Patients could bring many of their own belongings including clothes, books, crafts, and even phones;though, the devices would mostly be disabled unable to use social media, make outbound calls, etc.

So, here I sat with Ms. Marshall glued to her device as I began asking my questions and taking all the time needed for her to respond. The sound of her long nails clicking on the screen filled the room as I waited for her answers. I wasn’t like Holmes and wouldn’t just move on and let Ms. Marshall leave if she was none compliant.

“Ok, listen Doc. I know how this goes. You ask the questions. I answer. You jot some notes, and I stay as sober and be a good girl. It’s been a week. Can I go yet?”

She seemed quite irritated, and for a moment, I wondered if she actually grasped the full of her situation. She’d been brought into the clinic after getting caught for stealing nail polish from a cosmetics store and escalating the situation by attacking a security guard. She was supposed to go to a regular holding facility, but her parents had been able to get her transferred to Maple Hills after the assault instead.

I immediately began to write these notes down which elicited a loud groan from Ms. Marshall.

I looked up from my notes to speak directly and on her level trying to show respect.

“Ms. Marshall. I’m sorry, but I just can’t sign your release at this time. I don’t think a few more weeks at this clinic will hurt you and could honestly do some wonders for your mental health. I think it best if you understand I’m your friend here. I’m one of the few staff members trying to see this situation from your perspective.”

A sour look crossed her face as she finally looked from the phone.

“My perspective? You really want that? Some kind of fun psychological BS you’ll write a book about? Have fun learning about me? That kind of shit?”

Clearly she was thinking I was looking down on her.

“No…no more like I want to understand so that I can help you better.”

I hesitate knowing we’re at a critical juncture. I breathe easily for just a moment as she begins to smile. Then, she moves her lips but the sounds don’t line up with what’s she’s saying. I blink and look on, but the image of her speak grows blurry in my eyes. I feel off balance and hold the edge of my seat with one hand and rub my eyes with the other. Suddenly, I’m slipping and feel like I’m falling, but I never land. Instead, a nauseous feeling grips my stomach as I hear a familiar voice speak.

“Non verbal when confronted…check. Eyes dilated. Potential drug use despite quarantine…hmm, I’m sorry Ms. Marshall, but I really can’t sign off on this release”

“Wh-what?”

I say weakly and hear a soft voice echo before looking at my own face speaking to me. Somehow I was now on the couch. Somehow, I was Ms. Marshall!

\\\\\\\\-

Yo! Thanks for reading that bloated starter. Today, if you’re interested, I’m looking for someone to help GM a dubious bodyswap in the psyche ward. I’m looking for someone who wants to really have fun with the gaslighting and role reversal elements that come with this. Making my character see things, questioning if I’m going crazy or if it’s some quirk of my new body or even a side effect of medication, pushing me to act or be more like the original owner, and any other fun stuff we can cook up.

I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re interested shoot me a dm with any questions, major kinks, and what you’d like to see out of this story. I also like to play with refs and have a model or two in mind

My main kinks revolve around: bodyswaps, role reversals, loss of outfit control, makeup play, heels, nails, teasing, embarrassment, training, identity theft, toys, and find some nitty gritty talk about my new anatomy to be fun

Limit: death, unnecessary violence, anime, beast, scat, and vore

My name is Dillon Barker. I graduated in the top percentage of my class from the Cambridge Psychology department years ago and was now a rather successful 30 year old, bald and bearded white man. Some of my patients would tease me calling me names like “Freud,” but I took pride in trying to actually connect with my patients and get on their level. In this field, many professionals became callous and detached from their patients. Before I became jaded like the rest, I wanted to try to see things from the perspective of my patients. Maybe that’s why I’d often get calls for special cases.

I was asked to come to the Maple Hills rehabilitation clinic after a staffing shortage met a troubled individual. I’d been reading Ms. Marshall’s file and allowed to observe a couple interviews she had with her current but retiring psychiatrist, Dr. Holmes.

After meeting with him, I told the doctor I agreed with much of his diagnosis, but had some concerns. There were indeed signs of the disorders he was noting. The patient, Ms. Marshall, was showing the symptoms of multiple disorders. Kleptomania, compulsive lying, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and potentially even early signs of schizophrenia which was unusual for a woman in her early 20’s. A look a family history showed no hereditary issues, but did reveal a neglected upbringing couple with parents that seemed out of touch with their daughter. The file noted that they “busted wanted their baby girl back.”

I found myself shaking my head as I read through the document. My main concern was the leading manner of questioning I’d witnessed during the interviews as well as the Dr. Holmes’s plan for medication therapy as opposed to a direct approach on her underlying, neglected personality issues.

So, with my specialist authority, I immediately set up a proper interview with Ms. Marshall. She was as dismissive of me as she entered the room and plopped onto the couch as she had with Dr. Holmes. This was expected. Maple Hills was a sort of “luxury” clinic with many individuals from more well off families using this facility for rehab care. Thus, patients were allowed a tad more freedom than in our cases even in the psyche ward. Patients could bring many of their own belongings including clothes, books, crafts, and even phones;though, the devices would mostly be disabled unable to use social media, make outbound calls, etc.

So, here I sat with Ms. Marshall glued to her device as I began asking my questions and taking all the time needed for her to respond. The sound of her long nails clicking on the screen filled the room as I waited for her answers. I wasn’t like Holmes and wouldn’t just move on and let Ms. Marshall leave if she was none compliant.

“Ok, listen Doc. I know how this goes. You ask the questions. I answer. You jot some notes, and I stay as sober and be a good girl. It’s been a week. Can I go yet?”

She seemed quite irritated, and for a moment, I wondered if she actually grasped the full of her situation. She’d been brought into the clinic after getting caught for stealing nail polish from a cosmetics store and escalating the situation by attacking a security guard. She was supposed to go to a regular holding facility, but her parents had been able to get her transferred to Maple Hills after the assault instead.

I immediately began to write these notes down which elicited a loud groan from Ms. Marshall.

I looked up from my notes to speak directly and on her level trying to show respect.

“Ms. Marshall. I’m sorry, but I just can’t sign your release at this time. I don’t think a few more weeks at this clinic will hurt you and could honestly do some wonders for your mental health. I think it best if you understand I’m your friend here. I’m one of the few staff members trying to see this situation from your perspective.”

A sour look crossed her face as she finally looked from the phone.

“My perspective? You really want that? Some kind of fun psychological BS you’ll write a book about? Have fun learning about me? That kind of shit?”

Clearly she was thinking I was looking down on her.

“No…no more like I want to understand so that I can help you better.”

I hesitate knowing we’re at a critical juncture. I breathe easily for just a moment as she begins to smile. Then, she moves her lips but the sounds don’t line up with what’s she’s saying. I blink and look on, but the image of her speak grows blurry in my eyes. I feel off balance and hold the edge of my seat with one hand and rub my eyes with the other. Suddenly, I’m slipping and feel like I’m falling, but I never land. Instead, a nauseous feeling grips my stomach as I hear a familiar voice speak.

“Non verbal when confronted…check. Eyes dilated. Potential drug use despite quarantine…hmm, I’m sorry Ms. Marshall, but I really can’t sign off on this release”

“Wh-what?”

I say weakly and hear a soft voice echo before looking at my own face speaking to me. Somehow I was now on the couch. Somehow, I was Ms. Marshall!

\\\\-

Yo! Thanks for reading that bloated starter. Today, if you’re interested, I’m looking for someone to help GM a dubious bodyswap in the psyche ward. I’m looking for someone who wants to really have fun with the gaslighting and role reversal elements that come with this. Making my character see things, questioning if I’m going crazy or if it’s some quirk of my new body or even a side effect of medication, pushing me to act or be more like the original owner, and any other fun stuff we can cook up.

I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re interested shoot me a dm with any questions, major kinks, and what you’d like to see out of this story. I also like to play with refs and have a model or two in mind

My main kinks revolve around: bodyswaps, role reversals, loss of outfit control, makeup play, heels, nails, teasing, embarrassment, training, identity theft, toys, and find some nitty gritty talk about my new anatomy to be fun

Limit: death, unnecessary violence, anime, beast, scat, and vore

My name is Dillon Barker. I graduated in the top percentage of my class from the Cambridge Psychology department years ago and was now a rather successful 30 year old, bald and bearded white man. Some of my patients would tease me calling me names like “Freud,” but I took pride in trying to actually connect with my patients and get on their level. In this field, many professionals became callous and detached from their patients. Before I became jaded like the rest, I wanted to try to see things from the perspective of my patients. Maybe that’s why I’d often get calls for special cases.

I was asked to come to the Maple Hills rehabilitation clinic after a staffing shortage met a troubled individual. I’d been reading Ms. Marshall’s file and allowed to observe a couple interviews she had with her current but retiring psychiatrist, Dr. Holmes.

After meeting with him, I told the doctor I agreed with much of his diagnosis, but had some concerns. There were indeed signs of the disorders he was noting. The patient, Ms. Marshall, was showing the symptoms of multiple disorders. Kleptomania, compulsive lying, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and potentially even early signs of schizophrenia which was unusual for a woman in her early 20’s. A look a family history showed no hereditary issues, but did reveal a neglected upbringing couple with parents that seemed out of touch with their daughter. The file noted that they “busted wanted their baby girl back.”

I found myself shaking my head as I read through the document. My main concern was the leading manner of questioning I’d witnessed during the interviews as well as the Dr. Holmes’s plan for medication therapy as opposed to a direct approach on her underlying, neglected personality issues.

So, with my specialist authority, I immediately set up a proper interview with Ms. Marshall. She was as dismissive of me as she entered the room and plopped onto the couch as she had with Dr. Holmes. This was expected. Maple Hills was a sort of “luxury” clinic with many individuals from more well off families using this facility for rehab care. Thus, patients were allowed a tad more freedom than in our cases even in the psyche ward. Patients could bring many of their own belongings including clothes, books, crafts, and even phones;though, the devices would mostly be disabled unable to use social media, make outbound calls, etc.

So, here I sat with Ms. Marshall glued to her device as I began asking my questions and taking all the time needed for her to respond. The sound of her long nails clicking on the screen filled the room as I waited for her answers. I wasn’t like Holmes and wouldn’t just move on and let Ms. Marshall leave if she was none compliant.

“Ok, listen Doc. I know how this goes. You ask the questions. I answer. You jot some notes, and I stay as sober and be a good girl. It’s been a week. Can I go yet?”

She seemed quite irritated, and for a moment, I wondered if she actually grasped the full of her situation. She’d been brought into the clinic after getting caught for stealing nail polish from a cosmetics store and escalating the situation by attacking a security guard. She was supposed to go to a regular holding facility, but her parents had been able to get her transferred to Maple Hills after the assault instead.

I immediately began to write these notes down which elicited a loud groan from Ms. Marshall.

I looked up from my notes to speak directly and on her level trying to show respect.

“Ms. Marshall. I’m sorry, but I just can’t sign your release at this time. I don’t think a few more weeks at this clinic will hurt you and could honestly do some wonders for your mental health. I think it best if you understand I’m your friend here. I’m one of the few staff members trying to see this situation from your perspective.”

A sour look crossed her face as she finally looked from the phone.

“My perspective? You really want that? Some kind of fun psychological BS you’ll write a book about? Have fun learning about me? That kind of shit?”

Clearly she was thinking I was looking down on her.

“No…no more like I want to understand so that I can help you better.”

I hesitate knowing we’re at a critical juncture. I breathe easily for just a moment as she begins to smile. Then, she moves her lips but the sounds don’t line up with what’s she’s saying. I blink and look on, but the image of her speak grows blurry in my eyes. I feel off balance and hold the edge of my seat with one hand and rub my eyes with the other. Suddenly, I’m slipping and feel like I’m falling, but I never land. Instead, a nauseous feeling grips my stomach as I hear a familiar voice speak.

“Non verbal when confronted…check. Eyes dilated. Potential drug use despite quarantine…hmm, I’m sorry Ms. Marshall, but I really can’t sign off on this release”

“Wh-what?”

I say weakly and hear a soft voice echo before looking at my own face speaking to me. Somehow I was now on the couch. Somehow, I was Ms. Marshall!

\\-

Yo! Thanks for reading that bloated starter. Today, if you’re interested, I’m looking for someone to help GM a dubious bodyswap in the psyche ward. I’m looking for someone who wants to really have fun with the gaslighting and role reversal elements that come with this. Making my character see things, questioning if I’m going crazy or if it’s some quirk of my new body or even a side effect of medication, pushing me to act or be more like the original owner, and any other fun stuff we can cook up.

I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re interested shoot me a dm with any questions, major kinks, and what you’d like to see out of this story. I also like to play with refs and have a model or two in mind

My main kinks revolve around: bodyswaps, role reversals, loss of outfit control, makeup play, heels, nails, teasing, embarrassment, training, identity theft, toys, and find some nitty gritty talk about my new anatomy to be fun

Limit: death, unnecessary violence, anime, beast, scat, and vore

My name is Dillon Barker. I’d graduation in the top percentage of my class from the Princeton Psychology department years ago and was now a rather successful 30 year old, bald and bearded white man. Some of my patients would tease me calling me names like “Freud,” but I took pride in trying to actually connect with my patients and get on their level. In this field, many professionals became callous and detached from their patients. Before I became jaded like the rest, I wanted to try to see things from the perspective of my patients. Maybe that’s why I’d often get calls for special cases.

I was asked to come to the Maple Hills rehabilitation clinic after a staffing shortage met a troubled individual. I’d been reading Ms. Marshall’s file and allowed to observe a couple interviews she had with her current but retiring psychiatrist, Dr. Holmes.

After meeting with him, I told the doctor I agreed with much of his diagnosis, but had some concerns. There were indeed signs of the disorders he was noting. The patient, Ms. Marshall, was showing the symptoms of multiple disorders. Kleptomania, compulsive lying, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and potentially even early signs of schizophrenia which was unusual for a woman in her early 20’s. A look a family history showed no hereditary issues, but did reveal a neglected upbringing couple with parents that seemed out of touch with their daughter. The file noted that they “busted wanted their baby girl back.”

I found myself shaking my head as I read through the document. My main concern was the leading manner of questioning I’d witnessed during the interviews as well as the Dr. Holmes’s plan for medication therapy as opposed to a direct approach on her underlying, neglected personality issues.

So, with my specialist authority, I immediately set up a proper interview with Ms. Marshall. She was as dismissive of me as she entered the room and plopped onto the couch as she had with Dr. Holmes. This was expected. Maple Hills was a sort of “luxury” clinic with many individuals from more well off families using this facility for rehab care. Thus, patients were allowed a tad more freedom than in our cases even in the psyche ward. Patients could bring many of their own belongings including clothes, books, crafts, and even phones;though, the devices would mostly be disabled unable to use social media, make outbound calls, etc.

So, here I sat with Ms. Marshall glued to her device as I began asking my questions and taking all the time needed for her to respond. The sound of her long nails clicking on the screen filled the room as I waited for her answers. I wasn’t like Holmes and wouldn’t just move on and let Ms. Marshall leave if she was none compliant.

“Ok, listen Doc. I know how this goes. You ask the questions. I answer. You jot some notes, and I stay as sober and be a good girl. It’s been a week. Can I go yet?”

She seemed quite irritated, and for a moment, I wondered if she actually grasped the full of her situation. She’d been brought into the clinic after getting caught for stealing nail polish from a cosmetics store and escalating the situation by attacking a security guard. She was supposed to go to a regular holding facility, but her parents had been able to get her transferred to Maple Hills after the assault instead.

I immediately began to write these notes down which elicited a loud groan from Ms. Marshall.

I looked up from my notes to speak directly and on her level trying to show respect.

“Ms. Marshall. I’m sorry, but I just can’t sign your release at this time. I don’t think a few more weeks at this clinic will hurt you and could honestly do some wonders for your mental health. I think it best if you understand I’m your friend here. I’m one of the few staff members trying to see this situation from your perspective.”

A sour look crossed her face as she finally looked from the phone.

“My perspective? You really want that? Some kind of fun psychological BS you’ll write a book about? Have fun learning about me? That kind of shit?”

Clearly she was thinking I was looking down on her.

“No…no more like I want to understand so that I can help you better.”

I hesitate knowing we’re at a critical juncture. I breathe easily for just a moment as she begins to smile. Then, she moves her lips but the sounds don’t line up with what’s she’s saying. I blink and look on, but the image of her speak grows blurry in my eyes. I feel off balance and hold the edge of my seat with one hand and rub my eyes with the other. Suddenly, I’m slipping and feel like I’m falling, but I never land. Instead, a nauseous feeling grips my stomach as I hear a familiar voice speak.

“Non verbal when confronted…check. Eyes dilated. Potential drug use despite quarantine…hmm, I’m sorry Ms. Marshall, but I really can’t sign off on this release”

“Wh-what?”

I say weakly and hear a soft voice echo before looking at my own face speaking to me. Somehow I was now on the couch. Somehow, I was Ms. Marshall!

\\-

Yo! Thanks for reading that bloated starter. Today, if you’re interested, I’m looking for someone to help GM a dubious bodyswap in the psyche ward. I’m looking for someone who wants to really have fun with the gaslighting and role reversal elements that come with this. Making my character see things, questioning if I’m going crazy or if it’s some quirk of my new body or even a side effect of medication, pushing me to act or be more like the original owner, and any other fun stuff we can cook up.

I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re interested shoot me a dm with any questions, major kinks, and what you’d like to see out of this story. I also like to play with refs and have a model or two in mind

My main kinks revolve around: bodyswaps, role reversals, loss of outfit control, makeup play, heels, nails, teasing, embarrassment, training, identity theft, toys, and find some nitty gritty talk about my new anatomy to be fun

Limit: death, unnecessary violence, anime, beast, scat, and vore

My name is Dillon Barker. I’d graduation in the top percentage of my class from the Princeton Psychology department years ago and was now a rather successful 30 year old, bald and bearded white man. Some of my patients would tease me calling me names like “Freud,” but I took pride in trying to actually connect with my patients and get on their level. In this field, many professionals became callous and detached from their patients. Before I became jaded like the rest, I wanted to try to see things from the perspective of my patients. Maybe that’s why I’d often get calls for special cases.

I was asked to come to the Maple Hills rehabilitation clinic after a staffing shortage met a troubled individual. I’d been reading Ms. Marshall’s file and allowed to observe a couple interviews she had with her current but retiring psychiatrist, Dr. Holmes.

After meeting with him, I told the doctor I agreed with much of his diagnosis, but had some concerns. There were indeed signs of the disorders he was noting. The patient, Ms. Marshall, was showing the symptoms of multiple disorders. Kleptomania, compulsive lying, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and potentially even early signs of schizophrenia which was unusual for a woman in her early 20’s. A look a family history showed no hereditary issues, but did reveal a neglected upbringing couple with parents that seemed out of touch with their daughter. The file noted that they “busted wanted their baby girl back.”

I found myself shaking my head as I read through the document. My main concern was the leading manner of questioning I’d witnessed during the interviews as well as the Dr. Holmes’s plan for medication therapy as opposed to a direct approach on her underlying, neglected personality issues.

So, with my specialist authority, I immediately set up a proper interview with Ms. Marshall. She was as dismissive of me as she entered the room and plopped onto the couch as she had with Dr. Holmes. This was expected. Maple Hills was a sort of “luxury” clinic with many individuals from more well off families using this facility for rehab care. Thus, patients were allowed a tad more freedom than in our cases even in the psyche ward. Patients could bring many of their own belongings including clothes, books, crafts, and even phones;though, the devices would mostly be disabled unable to use social media, make outbound calls, etc.

So, here I sat with Ms. Marshall glued to her device as I began asking my questions and taking all the time needed for her to respond. The sound of her long nails clicking on the screen filled the room as I waited for her answers. I wasn’t like Holmes and wouldn’t just move on and let Ms. Marshall leave if she was none compliant.

“Ok, listen Doc. I know how this goes. You ask the questions. I answer. You jot some notes, and I stay as sober and be a good girl. It’s been a week. Can I go yet?”

She seemed quite irritated, and for a moment, I wondered if she actually grasped the full of her situation. She’d been brought into the clinic after getting caught for stealing nail polish from a cosmetics store and escalating the situation by attacking a security guard. She was supposed to go to a regular holding facility, but her parents had been able to get her transferred to Maple Hills after the assault instead.

I immediately began to write these notes down which elicited a loud groan from Ms. Marshall.

I looked up from my notes to speak directly and on her level trying to show respect.

“Ms. Marshall. I’m sorry, but I just can’t sign your release at this time. I don’t think a few more weeks at this clinic will hurt you and could honestly do some wonders for your mental health. I think it best if you understand I’m your friend here. I’m one of the few staff members trying to see this situation from your perspective.”

A sour look crossed her face as she finally looked from the phone.

“My perspective? You really want that? Some kind of fun psychological BS you’ll write a book about? Have fun learning about me? That kind of shit?”

Clearly she was thinking I was looking down on her.

“No…no more like I want to understand so that I can help you better.”

I hesitate knowing we’re at a critical juncture. I breathe easily for just a moment as she begins to smile. Then, she moves her lips but the sounds don’t line up with what’s she’s saying. I blink and look on, but the image of her speak grows blurry in my eyes. I feel off balance and hold the edge of my seat with one hand and rub my eyes with the other. Suddenly, I’m slipping and feel like I’m falling, but I never land. Instead, a nauseous feeling grips my stomach as I hear a familiar voice speak.

“Non verbal when confronted…check. Eyes dilated. Potential drug use despite quarantine…hmm, I’m sorry Ms. Marshall, but I really can’t sign off on this release”

“Wh-what?”

I say weakly and hear a soft voice echo before looking at my own face speaking to me. Somehow I was now on the couch. Somehow, I was Ms. Marshall!

\\-

Yo! Thanks for reading that bloated starter. Today, if you’re interested, I’m looking for someone to help GM a dubious bodyswap in the psyche ward. I’m looking for someone who wants to really have fun with the gaslighting and role reversal elements that come with this. Making my character see things, questioning if I’m going crazy or if it’s some quirk of my new body or even a side effect of medication, pushing me to act or be more like the original owner, and any other fun stuff we can cook up.

I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re interested shoot me a dm with any questions, major kinks, and what you’d like to see out of this story. I also like to play with refs and have a model or two in mind

My main kinks revolve around: bodyswaps, role reversals, loss of outfit control, makeup play, heels, nails, teasing, embarrassment, training, identity theft, toys, and find some nitty gritty talk about my new anatomy to be fun

Limit: death, unnecessary violence, anime, beast, scat, and vore

My name is Dillon Barker. I’d graduation in the top percentage of my class from the Princeton Psychology department years ago and was now a rather successful 30 year old, bald and bearded white man. Some of my patients would tease me calling me names like “Freud,” but I took pride in trying to actually connect with my patients and get on their level. In this field, many professionals became callous and detached from their patients. Before I became jaded like the rest, I wanted to try to see things from the perspective of my patients. Maybe that’s why I’d often get calls for special cases.

I was asked to come to the Maple Hills rehabilitation clinic after a staffing shortage met a troubled individual. I’d been reading Ms. Marshall’s file and allowed to observe a couple interviews she had with her current but retiring psychiatrist, Dr. Holmes.

After meeting with him, I told the doctor I agreed with much of his diagnosis, but had some concerns. There were indeed signs of the disorders he was noting. The patient, Ms. Marshall, was showing the symptoms of multiple disorders. Kleptomania, compulsive lying, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and potentially even early signs of schizophrenia which was unusual for a woman in her early 20’s. A look a family history showed no hereditary issues, but did reveal a neglected upbringing couple with parents that seemed out of touch with their daughter. The file noted that they “busted wanted their baby girl back.”

I found myself shaking my head as I read through the document. My main concern was the leading manner of questioning I’d witnessed during the interviews as well as the Dr. Holmes’s plan for medication therapy as opposed to a direct approach on her underlying, neglected personality issues.

So, with my specialist authority, I immediately set up a proper interview with Ms. Marshall. She was as dismissive of me as she entered the room and plopped onto the couch as she had with Dr. Holmes. This was expected. Maple Hills was a sort of “luxury” clinic with many individuals from more well off families using this facility for rehab care. Thus, patients were allowed a tad more freedom than in our cases even in the psyche ward. Patients could bring many of their own belongings including clothes, books, crafts, and even phones;though, the devices would mostly be disabled unable to use social media, make outbound calls, etc.

So, here I sat with Ms. Marshall glued to her device as I began asking my questions and taking all the time needed for her to respond. The sound of her long nails clicking on the screen filled the room as I waited for her answers. I wasn’t like Holmes and wouldn’t just move on and let Ms. Marshall leave if she was none compliant.

“Ok, listen Doc. I know how this goes. You ask the questions. I answer. You jot some notes, and I stay as sober and be a good girl. It’s been a week. Can I go yet?”

She seemed quite irritated, and for a moment, I wondered if she actually grasped the full of her situation. She’d been brought into the clinic after getting caught for stealing nail polish from a cosmetics store and escalating the situation by attacking a security guard. She was supposed to go to a regular holding facility, but her parents had been able to get her transferred to Maple Hills after the assault instead.

I immediately began to write these notes down which elicited a loud groan from Ms. Marshall.

I looked up from my notes to speak directly and on her level trying to show respect.

“Ms. Marshall. I’m sorry, but I just can’t sign your release at this time. I don’t think a few more weeks at this clinic will hurt you and could honestly do some wonders for your mental health. I think it best if you understand I’m your friend here. I’m one of the few staff members trying to see this situation from your perspective.”

A sour look crossed her face as she finally looked from the phone.

“My perspective? You really want that? Some kind of fun psychological BS you’ll write a book about? Have fun learning about me? That kind of shit?”

Clearly she was thinking I was looking down on her.

“No…no more like I want to understand so that I can help you better.”

I hesitate knowing we’re at a critical juncture. I breathe easily for just a moment as she begins to smile. Then, she moves her lips but the sounds don’t line up with what’s she’s saying. I blink and look on, but the image of her speak grows blurry in my eyes. I feel off balance and hold the edge of my seat with one hand and rub my eyes with the other. Suddenly, I’m slipping and feel like I’m falling, but I never land. Instead, a nauseous feeling grips my stomach as I hear a familiar voice speak.

“Non verbal when confronted…check. Eyes dilated. Potential drug use despite quarantine…hmm, I’m sorry Ms. Marshall, but I really can’t sign off on this release”

“Wh-what?”

I say weakly and hear a soft voice echo before looking at my own face speaking to me. Somehow I was now on the couch. Somehow, I was Ms. Marshall!

\-

Yo! Thanks for reading that bloated starter. Today, if you’re interested, I’m looking for someone to help GM a dubious bodyswap in the psyche ward. I’m looking for someone who wants to really have fun with the gaslighting and role reversal elements that come with this. Making my character see things, questioning if I’m going crazy or if it’s some quirk of my new body or even a side effect of medication, pushing me to act or be more like the original owner, and any other fun stuff we can cook up.

I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re interested shoot me a dm with any questions, major kinks, and what you’d like to see out of this story. I also like to play with refs and have a model or two in mind

My main kinks revolve around: bodyswaps, role reversals, loss of outfit control, makeup play, heels, nails, teasing, embarrassment, training, identity theft, toys, and find some nitty gritty talk about my new anatomy to be fun

Limit: death, unnecessary violence, anime, beast, scat, and vore