Congratulations on Describing Your Incredibly Embarrassing Wet Dream to the Wrong Person!

Psychiatrists are supposed to be bastions of public confidence, people who can literally be trusted with any secret. They’re supposed to be iron traps of will who never cave, no matter how many times someone shouts “pretty please at them.” They’re supposed to be un-corruptible, be it by sex or money or drugs.

They’re definitely not supposed to live tweet their sessions with patients.

So imagine your surprise when your mom sends you a link to a Twitter feed (when did she get on Twitter, anyway?) detailing your entire sessions with your psychiatrist. It’ll start with a series of “snore” posts every twenty five seconds, right up until you start talking about the weird sex dream you had.

“Gross,” the first post will read. Then the next post will read “Still gross, but getting hotter.”

Then the tweets will start to graphically transcribe the sex dream you detailed to your shrink. It’ll go into what you think your sister’s pubis looks like and what you think it smells like. Then it’ll detail the entrance of Jenny Michaels into the dream, that girl you have a huge crush on from your school. It’ll go over what you do to Jenny and what Jenny and your sister do while you watch. The shrink will start to rate his “boner meter” with a little set of ascii penises of various length.

By the time you finish the boner meter will take up an entire tweet, which will be followed by “lol. kid shouldve been in penthouse.”

Then he’ll laugh at how stupid your complaints about high school being tough are, and sign off the stream with the post: “fuck my mortage for making me sit thru this shit. peace”.

You’ll be mortified. Your mom will walk into your room just as you finish and just point and laugh at you.

“Fucking pervert!” she’ll squeal, before you slam the door in her face.

“Hah!” you’ll hear your father laugh from downstairs in the house as he reads the feed.

The only silver lining will come when your sister knocks on your door.

“Fucked up, man,” she’ll mumble through the wood. Then she’ll pause on the other side of the door, her breathing just barely audible. “I’ll talk to Jenny. See what I can do.”

That last bit will make you turn over and dry your eyes a little. You’re sure your whole school knows that you dreamed about having a threeway with your sister (granted, one where nothing happened between the two of you, but still) but she’s pretty good at talking people in to things, and if she puts in a good word with Jenny you might at least get laid out of the whole thing.

Congratulations on Describing Your Incredibly Embarrassing Wet Dream to the Wrong Person!

Congratulations on Surviving Seven Minutes In Heaven!

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Congratulations on Making a Difference In a Teen's Life!

You’re a high school guidance counselor. Normally your occupation is reserved for people who want to help children, but you’re an escaped criminal who needed to lay low, and the position was open. It’s worked out pretty well for you, since all the hot female teachers are sucker for a bad boy with a secret past who tends to take their money and knows how to do some freaky shit in the sack, but lately the tasks that make up the job have been getting in the way of your enjoying it.

It all started three weeks ago with Kim Kase. Kim is a beautiful, brilliant young girl with serious emotional problems who keeps on falling into relationships with men who don’t really love her. Normally it doesn’t distract her, but after around five or six of them she enters a brief period of serious depression. This time she’ll have passed the three dozen mark, and she’ll be really broken up about it.

She’ll come into your office weeping and moaning about being pregnant. You’ll look up the TV in the corner of your office at her as if to ask what the fuck are you doing here? but the dumb twat won’t even notice.

“Mister Mugugapan,” she’ll choke out between her tears. It’s not your real name, but so far no one’s noticed that it’s dervied from Moo-Goo-Gai-Pan. “I’ve been having some trouble.”

You’ll roll your eyes and nod at her, gesturing to the open seat in front of your desk. She’ll take it immediately and then huddle her body up, weeping openly and giving you an excellent view of your cleavage. It will take all your effort not to sigh and stare, but you’ll manage. After all, you’re a pro.

“How can I help?” you’ll say, with something that could potentially be mistaken for enthusiasm. She’ll respond to your lackluster statement with a hopeful glance at you, like you’d just told her that she was the prettiest girl in the world. You’ll take a sip from your coffee mug to avoid staring at her chest while she’s looking at you.

“I just...” she’ll cut herself off with a choked sob mid sentence. “I just need someone to listen,” she’ll finish, looking at you with that same fervent hope. You’ll wonder for a moment if there’s a bit of attraction there, but then you’ll remember that you don’t want attention and you’ll simply nod, causing Kim to go on an hour and a half diatribe about all the boys she’s been with.

At one point it’ll start getting pretty blue. She’ll be describing the fifth time she had sex, when she realized she first liked it, when she’ll catch you looking down her shirt. In response she’ll smile, leap over your desk and, before you know what’s going on, the two of you will be going at it like a Naughty America video. You’ll be lucky to get out of the whole affair without visible bite marks.

As for Kim, she’ll fuck someone for the first time without loving them. It’ll be an awakening for her, a realization that the physical and emotional acts of love are in no way intertwined. She’ll leave your office a woman, fully aware of her power and aware that love isn’t something you need for sex. All you need for sex is two people. Or more, like that time she described with her cousin.

Also, you’ll be the first non-high school aged boy Kim will have sex with, so it’ll last more than five minutes for the first time in her life. That means Kim is also going to have an orgasm for the first time, which will really help get some of the crazy out of her.

Congratulations on Making a Difference In a Teen’s Life!