It was a balmy spring day when Dr. Emma Jones stopped her car by the valet at the hospital. She had to restrain herself from laughing out loud as the valet, a pizza-faced, scrawny boy of about 17, looked her up and down. As if he had a chance with her, a 30-year-old, full-figured sex therapist. When his eyes finally shifted from her heaving bosom to her stern gaze, her expression changed to sheer amusement. She chuckled and shook her finger at him as she tossed him the keys. He groaned as the hard metal scraped his pimply chin.

Dr. Jones entered the hospital and found the visitor center.

"Yes, we've been expecting you, Doctor. He's down the hall," said the attendant.

"Thank you." Dr. Jones walked down the hall, thumbing through her patient's history. Alex DeLarge was her patient. She felt a bit sick at the thought she was going to rehabilitate the young man who had murdered her godmother, known in the media as "Catlady".

But Dr. Jones had no choice. The Minister of the Interior had forced her to take Alex's case. She had been foolish enough to get involved with his wife. The wife was your typical trophy wife: tall, buxom, beautiful. Emma had been giving her free advice on how to lose her sexual inhibitions, but had lost her better judgment when she learned the poor woman had never had an orgasm.

"Let me show you how," Emma had said, kneeling in front of her before diving into her pussy.

The wife was enjoying herself so much that neither she nor Emma had noticed the Minister watching them.

Emma knew she was in trouble when she saw the Minister's twisted grin.

"Come to my office, dear," he had said to Emma, locking the door behind them. "You can't very well expect me to leave you solely to my wife's enjoyment. Indeed, your oral skills can be put to good use…"

"Back off you bastard!" Emma had shrieked and pulled away when he started massaging her tits.

"Very well, you can reform Alex DeLarge instead."

"Excuse me? Do you have any idea what that fucker has done to me?" Emma's eyes widened.

"Yes, it should make therapy all the more interesting. Then again, I could make a report to the board that I caught you having inappropriate contact with a client."

"Fine. I'll help him. Fuck you, Frederick," Emma unlocked the door.

"My offer still stands, lassie," the Minister laughed at her discomfort.

Dr. Jones entered the sterile, white hospital room. Her original revulsion subsided slightly as she realized how strikingly handsome her patient was in person. Well if he hadn't viciously killed my godmother and he wasn't my patient, I'd be asking him out.

"Hello, Mrs." Alex greeted her. He was still in casts from his suicide attempt.

"Good morning, Alex. I'm Dr. Jones. I'm here to help you regain your sexual function. I know the Minister of the Interior apologized yesterday for how the Ludivico technique fucked you up."

"So are you going to reform me, Dr.?"

"Yes, Alex. I'm going to teach you to have a healthy sexual relationship. Oh, I'll get it," Emma muttered as she reached for the tissues to wipe up the coffee she just spilled. Her tits bounced and her ass jiggled as she scrubbed the floor. When she stood up, she noticed a tent at Alex's hips.

"Appy polly loggies, Dr." Alex said quietly, but his tone suggested he was anything but sorry.

"Don't worry about it. Sex therapists deal with erections all the time." She looked at the wall and tried not to think about how big it was. "Our first lesson is on consent."

Emma's mind drifted away as she started in on the spiel she had been telling patients since her days of supervised practice. She started thinking of that time a couple years ago when a high school boy aggressively hit on her.

Emma had been walking around a seedier part of the city, when an interesting front caught her eye. Korova Milk Bar. She debated whether to go inside.

"Welly welly welly well! Such a beauteous devotchka as yourself should not be alone at this time of night. Care to hear angel trumpets and heaven trombones?"

She saw an attractive young man addressing her. She was a bit taken aback at the all-white outfit and codpiece. Despite being fairly liberal, Emma never did one night stands. And she had just dumped her childish boyfriend who wanted to spend all day playing dress-up with his like-minded friends. She was not prepared to date another overgrown boy.

"Hit me up when your balls drop, darling." She started walking away briskly.

She felt an iron grip on her forearm. "I don't usually go for ptitsas over 25, but you are a lovely exception." He started dragging her down the street.

"Insolent bastard!" yelled Emma. She hit him in the face with a closed fist as hard as she could. He screamed and slightly loosened his grip. Emma ran faster than she ever had to a market that was still open. She knew how lucky she was too, as many women in that part of the city had been raped by youth gangs.

Emma paused for a moment in her spiel, and looked at Alex's face closely. Yes, he was the one who had tried to drag her away for some nonconsensual in-out, no doubt about it. But here he was, all mature and reformed. Yet he had the same predatory glint in his eyes that night as he had minutes ago after staring at her ass.

"Well, that's all for today, Alex," Emma put her notes away and went to the door.

"Is there any hope for me, Dr.?" Alex's tone was serious and mocking. He had recognized her lust when she stared at his hard cock earlier.

"I see great potential in you, my boy." Emma left the room, her face and chest flushed.