Superhero Therapist Novels & Stories

“Oh my baby girl! I understand you feeling bad because you are married but left for me, I will tell you to continue just to feel happy but since you want to let things go, why don’t you go for therapy maybe you will be free to open up to a total stranger.” “A therapist..why didn’t I think of that.” “That’s why you have me, I know a good one, his name is Dave Whales, he is really good, we can book you an appointment but in return, tell me more about the night of sin.” “You are silly..okay fine I will tell you some.” * I decided to check up on the therapist online and damn, “He is super hot..” I remained on his page, how can a therapist be this hot?

I asked, looking up at him. “It’s a therapist that I’d highly recommend,” he replied. “He specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. His methods are a bit… out there, so to speak, but he’s very good. I’d highly recommend giving him a call.” I furrowed my brow. “What sort of methods are you referring to?” I asked. “Hypnotherapy, mostly,” the doctor replied. “Some people see it as more of a fringe science, but his clients have all had very good results from what I’ve heard. Give it a try; you never know.”

If not for his meetings with the specialist, Sophia wouldn’t be too exhausted. “Dad, it’s not her fault. She’s been helping a lot with my therapy,” Tom spilled the bean and regretted it immediately. Her parents-in-law didn’t know about his disorder and they had hidden it well from them but now? “Therapy? What Therapy?” The disturbed contours on the couple’s faces caused the air around them to be uncomfortable. Anderson glared at Tom with a disappointed gaze before he turned to his parents and said, “It’s just something that helps him detach from his acting personality to his usual self.”

Margot Chen. She was not the first therapist he'd seen—there had been someone in the early days, after the debt, after the contract, when everything had been raw and new and he'd needed someone to help him understand what was happening to him. That therapist had been good, had been helpful, had given him the tools he needed for the first phase of the work. But Dr. Chen was different. Dr. Chen was the therapist he'd found when the first phase was over and the second phase had begun—the phase where the question was no longer what is wrong with me but who I want to become.

"This your first time in therapy Rhode ?" The therapist asks after we do the 'usual introductions'. His name is Dr Schwartz, one of the more highly rated and exorbitantly more expensive therapists I could find in London. Last night something locked in for me, I could spend months trying on my own to fix something that I have no idea how to fucking fix or I could pay someone to help me do it and get it done right. And if there's a chance I won't lose Amelia, it's worth swallowing my pride and going to therapy.

"How does he look like?" "I can't say but he seems tall. And I'm not certain about its gender but I take it for a man. I don't think women have time to trail kids around like that" I told him. "Why do you think anyone would be after you?" He asked. On my first day at his place when he had first asked this question, I was so irritated because I wondered in my mind, "If I knew all the answers to this, I wouldn't be here, so why ask me what I know nothing about?" But then, therapists know how to find their way around questions, and they ask you so calmly, without judging your answers. They let you show every expression and reaction without pulling you back. They never tell you to stop crying; i

He has threatened me, harmed me, and taken away my life in the snap of a finger. I step back beside him, giving him calm instructions. “You will feel warmth when I work on you. You need to stay still and quiet as I am working. And you are going to have to trust me if this will work. So let me do my healing,” I say to him in my official doctor mode. I need to remove myself from the threat and get into the mindset of medical professional. Doing so I step forward confidently and lift my hands once again.

I trained my body like a weapon I'd need to wield. I sparred with Diane daily, both of us leaving sessions covered in bruises. She taught me how to fight dirty, how to use everyday objects as weapons. "You're not the same scared girl who came in here," she said one day, wiping blood from her split lip. "That girl is dead." I communicated with every patient in the hospital. Some weren't actually mental patients, just people with unconventional thinking who'd been committed by families who found them inconvenient. From Robert, a former psychology professor, I learned the basics of manipulation and mind games. From Sarah, who'd been a stage hypnotist, I learned hypnosis techniques.

he said and hung up. He knew Bryan saw therapy as a waste of time and resources, he saw no point in it. “Do you know if your therapist is suffering from what you're also complaining about?” He asked Charles one day. “Well, a doctor cannot treat himself, he needs another doctor to treat him when he's sick and for therapy, healing can come through getting help or helping others heal also.” Charles explained. “Wish you the best, man” Bryan said to Charles, not ready to argue or be concinced in anyway.

“With my boyfriend, an Alpha. It’s kind of a…high profile case. I was hoping to speak with someone who might have experience with this kind of thing.” “Sure,” the woman says, giving her an understanding smile. “We actually have a couple of therapists who specialize in this kind of work. If you fill out this paperwork, I’d be happy to give you the profiles of a couple of therapists who might work really well.” Amelia smiles blandly as the woman hands her a clipboard. As the woman prints out the profiles, Amelia hurriedly fills out the form with a fake name and address. When she’s finished, she hands it back to the woman.