Brigid didn't ask for help.
It wasn't in her nature, after all. Her nature was to keep her opinions to herself, bow her head, and do what needed to be done to survive. But Rapture was changing. She was changing. The ice covering her heart was melting with spring, a frozen chrysalis cracking and hatching a blue morpho she saw all around Rapture.
And what was a butterfly to do when she engaged in metamorphosis?
Talk to the woman who initiated the change.
Brigid wasn't sure what she thought of Dr. Sofia Lamb, if she was to be quite frank (which she was; she never learned words of kindness and tact, after all). Lamb was, after all, a psychiatrist, and with her experience with psychiatry in the past (and, really, doctors in general), Brigid wasn't sure if she could trust her.
But a listening ear was better than one's own thought loops, trustworthy or not. So with a sigh, an adjustment of her wild hair, and a push of the door, she was inside Dr. Sofia Lamb's office.
The doctor herself was lounging in an armchair, legs draped over the side, reading a book. With a quirk of her eyebrow, she looked up, then adjusted her seating position. "Ah. Dr. Tenenbaum. I was wondering when you'd be in need of my services." She motioned to an armchair across from her.
Brigid swallowed acid and balled up the torn threads of her sweater in her hands, smushing it together to an unintelligible lump, then unthreading it completely to a long string, over and over again.
"Sit."
"Maybe...I prefer to stand," Brigid managed, her voice a hair above a whisper.
Dr. Lamb nodded, then stood herself, head and shoulders above Brigid. Instinctively, Brigid swallowed again, picking up the speed of unraveling that ball of thread.
Dr. Lamb studied the room for a bit before those intense eyes of hers landed on an abandoned chest of drawers in the corner of the room. She went through them, then pulled out a small teddybear.
"I am not a child, Doctor," Brigid protested.
"But you are destroying your sweater. Why not get your hands on something a bit harder to tear apart? Have a seat. I'll make some tea."
The bear was a particularly nice material, a light fuzziness not unlike the blankets Brigid used. She gave it a little test pet and, deciding it was satisfactory, sat in the designated chair.
"Can you knit, Dr. Tenenbaum?" Dr. Lamb called from the kitchenette of her office as she put the kettle on.
"I...can't say I ever took the time to learn."
"Give me the sweater, if you don't mind. I'll fix it for you." Once the kettle was heating, Dr. Lamb returned to the sitting area, hands outstretched.
"That is awfully kind of you," Brigid managed, hugging the bear between her knees and pulling of the sweater, "but what is the catch?"
Dr. Lamb took the sweater from her, inspecting it. "Catch?"
"People don't offer kind gestures for the sake of them. Usually, they want something in return."
Dr. Lamb emitted a laugh, a warm sound Brigid didn't expect, but still jumped despite herself. "Do you think so low of me, Dr. Tenenbaum?"
"I think I have been alive long enough to know the true nature of people, and kindness is not the nature of humans." Or mine, Brigid didn't add. Instead, she focused her attention on the teddy bear, wondering why she couldn't find any seams.
"Naturally, you'd assume that," Dr. Lamb replied, "an Auschwitz survivor, working under Fontaine...but what about me makes you wonder that?"
Brigid didn't meet her eyes. She didn't meet anyone's eyes, even under the best of circumstances, of course, but she especially avoided that piercing gaze of the psychiatrist. She scrutinized the crackling fireplace, the windows showing the gloomy dark of the ocean and the sea creatures within it, a Big Daddy with repair tools heading to work.
"You are a psychiatrist. Your job is to analyze people. And with that power, you can break them, too."
"That's very astute of you, Dr. Tenenbaum, but that's not my will. I just would like people to be their best selves, including you. And I'm sure you'd feel better in a less-torn sweater." Dr. Lamb dug her knitting supplies out of her desk drawer, found a brown that matched, and started working. "I wouldn't bother charging a colleague for my services, so unless you tell me something particularly concerning, I won't take notes, either. Just talk to me like a friend."
"A friend," Brigid repeated. The Big Daddy had left, so she returned her gaze to the teddy bear. "Why do you have this?" she lifted it slightly, the fuzzy skin completely undamaged from her rough touches.
"I made it for my autistic clients," Dr. Lamb said simply. "They seem to respond better with something in their hands. And this one is quite reinforced with the stitching, so it'll be hard to tear apart, unlike your poor sweater."
Brigid's stomach felt like the burning logs in the fireplace. She didn't like her apparent autism to be brought up so simply, or really, noted at all. "How...did you know that?" she asked.
"I'm a psychiatrist, like you said, Doctor." She could feel Dr. Lamb looking at her, so she looked down. "How wouldn't I know?"
"What else do you know?" Brigid dared, rubbing on one of the ears between her fingers. It wasn't quite the same sensation as destroying the threading of her sweater, but the plush was pleasant enough that it was a fine replacement.
"From rumors, or from analysis?" Dr. Lamb asked. "Because they're quite different answers."
The kettle whistled then, and Dr. Lamb stood to pour the tea.
"Both," Brigid decided. Some of the fuzz fell from the ear of the teddybear, but it wasn't noticeable.
"From rumors," Dr. Lamb began from the kitchenette, "I've heard you're cold, aloof, and calculating, with no empathy. And a little bird told me about your bondage sessions with Fontaine."
Heat rushed to Brigid's cheeks. "I was a girl then," she mumbled.
"However," Dr. Lamb continued, setting two cups of tea on the endtable beside Brigid, "I also know that, from watching you, that you've felt a great deal of pain, and inflicting it on others, treating people like specimens instead of people, was how you dealt with it. We all deal with our suffering in interesting ways, and I hardly think you're lacking in empathy. Rather, I think you're a great mother."
"You do?" Brigid wasn't sure why she wanted validation from Dr. Lamb of all people, but it did feel nice to be recognized.
"Of course. The girls look up to you. My own daughter has said as much." Dr. Lamb approached her then, kneeling, her hands on either side of the armchair. "Do you want to know what else I've noticed and deduced?"
"Sure," Brigid asked, clinging to the bear a bit tighter.
"You hadn't felt any pleasure in your life, to the point of not granting it to yourself, so you turned to that foul man Fontaine for anything resembling it. Were you attracted to him, Dr. Tenenbaum?"
Slowly, Brigid shook her head, her cheeks matching the fire in her stomach. She didn't, even back as a relatively innocent girl. But he was available, he wanted her, and she had unfulfilled needs. He was the first person to ever want her in a carnal capacity, and she wanted the experience. Of course, now as a woman, she regretted it, but she figured most women regretted their prior escapades.
"Are you attracted to men at all, Dr. Tenenbaum?"
Brigid's eyes widened. "I...are you implying that-"
"It's simply a question, my dear colleague. The fact that you have surrounded yourself with your work and not with the many options in Rapture makes me wonder if you're looking for something a bit softer. But I could be wrong."
The worst part, to Brigid, was that she wasn't wrong. Of course she fantasized about women, especially blondes with long legs like Dr. Lamb and the feisty botanist Dr. Langford. But she knew better than to have them be anything aside from rare nighttime thoughts, private touches when her flesh allowed them.
"Ah. I see." Dr. Lamb smiled, and Brigid feared her heart would stop. "A flush to your cheeks, dilation of the pupils, trying so hard to not look at me...you're not as subtle as you think."
Brigid covered her face.
"Oh, come now. Sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of." Dr. Lamb brushed her hands on hers, then paused. "May I?"
Brigid made an affirmative grunt, and Dr. Lamb pried them from her face.
"Look at me, if you can."
Slowly, Brigid met Dr. Lamb's eyes. They weren't as harsh and piercing as she thought before, but rather, full of concern, or so she thought. Maybe they were full of something else. Brigid was never the best at telling these things.
"I provide all sorts of services to the women of Rapture, Dr. Tenenbaum."
Brigid's eyes widened. A thought crossed her mind of the scandal it would be if knowledge of this got out to the men in Rapture, but Dr. Lamb didn't seem like a woman who would care.
"Why just women?" Brigid asked delicately.
"Because women aren't allowed the sexual freedom they desire. There is no equality in Rapture, but I can make it so. Would you like some attention to clear your mind?"
Brigid couldn't bring herself to speak, and she was kicking herself for shutting down. Her mouth felt dry as she tried to speak, but only came out with some nonsensical sounds reminiscent of her mother tongue.
"I understand if your aversion to touch extends here, and you're always welcome to say no. I know many people in your past haven't allowed you that answer, yes?"
Brigid thought of Auschwitz at first, then Fontaine, and nodded.
"You can always tell me no."
Slowly, Brigid nodded.
"Is that a yes? You'd like me to pleasure you?"
Brigid nodded more.
"But you're just nervous, so speaking is hard?"
Brigid couldn't help but smile a little at that. At the very least, a psychiatrist would understand clamming up at exciting moments.
Dr. Lamb got up then, taking the time to close all the blinds and lock the doors. Brigid set the bear aside and began to unbutton her blouse.
"You don't need to do that," Dr. Lamb said, making her way back over and replacing Brigid's hands with hers. "I know you're used to men making you do all the work, but I promise I'm far more generous."
Brigid shivered as more and more of her was exposed to the cool air of Dr. Lamb's office, despite the fireplace. She hadn't thought to wear a remotely cute bra, even, settling for comfort as she always did, but Dr. Lamb didn't seem to mind as the flush spread on her cheeks, gazing hungrily at them.
Casting the blouse aside, Dr. Lamb noted, "You really are hiding quite the curves under your clothes, aren't you!"
Brigid opened her mouth to attempt to speak again, but Dr. Lamb reached behind her and unhooked her bra, and she was far too surprised to make any noise.
"May I?" Dr. Lamb's hands hovered over Brigid's now-exposed breasts, eyebrow quirked as she waited for consent.
Brigid nodded vigorously, and sighed as Dr. Lamb's hands massaged her breasts. She had never been touched like this, especially without being restrained and blindfolded, and she found it much more agreeable than anything Fontaine had ever tried on her. As a girl, Brigid sure thought she knew what she wanted: to be taken forcibly, any illusion of consent removed from her, but this was…
"May I kiss you?"
It wasn't a question Brigid expected. She figured that was a given, considering the circumstances-that was how sex worked, wasn't it? Brigid cleared her throat and verbalized exactly this, her voice a bit hoarse.
"It's not a given, darling. But I'd say it gives it more meaning."
"You may, Doc-"
Dr. Lamb moved in closer, two breaths away from her lips. "Just Sofia is fine...Brigid."
Brigid felt herself begin to shake a little, and she wasn't sure if it was anticipation or nerves. "You may, Sofia," she managed. Her accent came out thicker than she meant it, and it made her want to sink into the armchair and disappear. But with Sofia's hand on the back of her head, the other kneading her breast gingerly, it was hard to want to be anywhere but where she was after a while.
Brigid thought she was going to pass out when Sofia's lips met hers. She had never kissed a woman before, or really much of anyone. There were times where the Auschwitz offered their bodies and mouths and other disgusting parts to her for her life, and other times where Fontaine put her through the motions of how sex was supposed to be, but never something tender like this. It was almost overwhelming; the smear of her buttery lipstick on her lips, the faint taste of tobacco and wine on her tongue as she felt Sofia's roll over hers, the whine of arousal building up in her throat.
Sofia seemed to sense this heightened state and focused her hand's attention on her nipples, which made her cry out. It was pleasant at first, until the sensations became a bit too much and Brigid instinctively grabbed Sofia's wrist.
"No?" Sofia asked.
Brigid shook her head. "Too much."
"I'm so sorry."
"It is alright, Sofia. I think I would like your attention somewhere else."
Sofia resumed massaging the opposite breast's general area, which Brigid much preferred, though her right hand began to trail down her stomach, down her skirt. "Here, perhaps?"
"Y-yes, Sofia."
Sofia stood suddenly, and Brigid emitted a whimper despite herself.
"Where are you going?"
"Nowhere. I just don't want to get my blouse wet." Sofia stripped out of it quickly, her bra following faster than Brigid could register what it looked like
"Wet?" Brigid asked. She knew, biologically, that she was supposed to be wet, but it wasn't something she had ever felt in excess, especially not in front of another person.
"You've soaked through your skirt, and probably my armchair," Sofia noted, helping Brigid out of her skirt and panties.
Instinctively, Brigid brought her knees together, feeling that indeed she was just as wet as Sofia noted. Her thighs were slippery, not unlike stepping out of a bath, and it was making her far colder than just being exposed.
"Show me yourself," Sofia said gently, prying her knees apart.
Brigid quivered, but obliged, bringing her hand to her mouth before anything even happened.
"Beautiful," Sofia noted. "May I?"
"May you...what?"
"Have a taste."
Brigid blinked. It wasn't something anyone had ever dared do to her before. Did women even get that sort of treatment? "S-sure," she stammered, suddenly far more nervous.
Without breaking eye contact-which normally would've made Brigid uncomfortable, but now grounded her-Sofia licked her slit languidly, getting a sense of the taste. Brigid sighed, which quickly dissolved into a low moan as Sofia's nose nudged her clitoris.
"A-are you sure about-"
Sofia gently lifted one of Brigid's legs-not a hard feat, considering how petite Brigid was-and swung it over her shoulder, and dove in a bit more, licking that delicious, high place men in her life had abandoned, complaining that it was hard to find. Ironically, Sofia, who was decidedly not a researcher of any sort of biology, had no trouble at all finding the small nub, which quickly made Brigid raise her voice.
Brigid always prided herself into how quiet she was in sex. Her mind had a tendency to wander, but in her experience, men preferred that. They wanted silence, obedience. Sofia seemed to want neither, as she didn't hesitate to give her clitoris more and more attention, picking up speed and pressure. She replaced her tongue with her finger for a moment, pulling back the hood before resuming her ministrations.
Brigid almost collapsed then, an electricity surging through her body more powerful than any plasmid she had ever created or experimented with. Her arms flew outward as she tried to brace herself, meeting hot tea and sending a cup flying. She tried to apologize, but the warmth in her gut was spreading, making her legs shake. "Sofia, I-"
"You can come, Brigid."
Brigid had orgasmed before-not by anyone else's hand, of course, as all of Fontaine's sessions seemed to act as more foreplay for her, with how clueless he was of her inner workings-but it didn't take long for Sofia to unravel her. Any sense of silence, of duty, of pride Brigid had was completely gone, her hairpins falling to the ground as she smacked her head on the wood of the armchair with a scream. Sofia hummed against her, the vibrations only encouraging more, until Brigid felt her walls contract on nothing, and she squirmed.
"More," Brigid said, despite herself. Her mind was still fuzzy, as though she had been without oxygen.
"How would you like more?" Sofia asked. Her lipstick was a bit smudged on her face, and with a slight lowering of her gaze, Brigid noticed that the lipstick had trailed down her abdomen and all over her inner thighs and the bits in between.
"Just…" Brigid waved her arms for a second, unsure how to articulate.
Sofia's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "You do like it rough, don't you."
"Y-yes, I-"
"You can take penetration?"
"I think so." Brigid was confused, though. If Sofia had parts that didn't agree with her gender, Brigid didn't notice, as her skirt was still on. But instead of asking, Brigid just analyzed the woman as she opened the desk drawer.
Then it clicked.
"You're going to...to wear it?"
Sofia wordlessly slipped out of her skirt and panties in one fell swoop, her moisture connecting herself to the cotton for a moment. Brigid flushed, bringing both hands to her mouth as she saw the dark blonde curls framing her womanhood, now replaced by straps and...
Brigid didn't have much time to register what the artificial phallus was made of. Before she could ask, Sofia hoisted Brigid up by the hip and slammed her against the wall behind her. With one hand, she pinned her hands above her head.
"More like this?" Sofia asked.
Brigid nodded, earning a tug on her hair with Sofia's free hand.
"I should've known to take Fontaine seriously when I heard you were such a bottom. "
Brigid was dizzy, but in a much better way than Fontaine could have ever attempted with her. This was clearly that craving she had, all those years ago, before she started doubting her career. This was...this was…
She felt the phallus rub against her lower lips a few times, pressing against her clitoris before dipping the head inside. "All your desires aside, are you sure you can-"
Brigid, impatient and stubborn as ever, brought her hips closer to Sofia's, bringing the phallus inside her halfway.
"I'll take that as a yes," Sofia chuckled. Another tug of her hair, a grip on her wrists, and Sofia was inside her.
Brigid emitted a low moan as Sofia thrust slowly, clearly taking care to not tear her-something Brigid wish more people did.
"Are you alright, darling?" Sofia asked.
"Very," Brigid said between her teeth.
"So you'd like it harder than that?"
"Please."
Sofia tightened her grip on her wrists and dropped the locks of Tenenbaum's wild hair before grasping onto her hip. "You asked for this." Digging her nails into her hip, she picked up the pace.
Brigid tried to lean back, but to no avail, and squirmed against Sofia's grasp. She was quite high off the ground, she noticed, as Sofia was quite tall. But she couldn't waste too much time thinking about height, for Sofia didn't hesitate to pound into her.
The moans Brigid found embarrassing earlier were nothing compared to what escaped her now. Beneath Sofia's dominant grasp, she thrashed, cried out, and soon screamed.
Sofia's hair was starting to fall out of its pins, loose blonde curls sticking to her forehead as she worked. "You must really like this," she noted.
Brigid couldn't do much more aside from scream. She wanted to grasp onto Sofia, and with a bit of effort, wiggled her wrists free. Sofia didn't capture her back, seeming to want Brigid to do as she pleased-this was about her, after all-and dug her broken and jagged nails into Sofia's back.
She hissed in response, then dropped her other hand to Brigid's hips, crashing her lips on hers. Sofia pushed her hips down as she thrust upward, giving Brigid even more friction, and it didn't take long before she came.
Brigid's mind shut down for a while as she released, as though she were away from her body, observing the strange event of fucking her therapist from afar. Her own sighs and screams were faraway, as though she were falling asleep. She was hardly aware of Sofia pulling out of her and scooping up her much smaller body, covering her in kisses.
When Brigid finally caught her breath, Sofia helped her up. "Good?"
"Did I lose consciousness?" Brigid asked, noting that Sofia was fully dressed, the mysterious phallus nowhere to be found. The only evidence was the puddle near the wall and the stains on the armchair.
"Not completely, but that's not uncommon when it's been so long." Sofia handed her back her clothes.
"Why can I not...return the favor?"
"Ah." Sofia smiled. "I am merely offering you a service. You need attention far more than I do."
"I suppose," Brigid mused as she got dressed. Sofia offered her some tissues to wipe up the excess moisture, and she did.
"I will return your sweater to you probably tomorrow. You still have the same apartment?"
"Yes," Brigid said. Thinking of the Little Ones living with her, she hesitated. "I can meet you here."
Sofia studied her for a moment. "I won't bother your children, Brigid."
Brigid instinctively went for her arm, where the loose threads were, but came up empty, so she began biting her nails.
"Here. You can have this." Sofia thrust the teddybear back in her arms.
Brigid clutched it tightly, thinking about how her various honorary children would probably try to steal it if they found it. "So...I will see you tomorrow?"
"Or sooner, if I decide to take you up on your offer."
"My offer?"
"You…'returning the favor,' as you put it."
"Oh." Brigid chewed her lip. "I could...do that now."
"I have some work to do, as well as your sweater. And cleaning up the tea."
Brigid flushed but said nothing.
"Give me some time, darling Brigid." Sofia sank down a bit and gave her a peck on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow. Or tonight, depending."
Brigid felt a bit like an awkward schoolgirl, but she managed a faint, "See you," before she departed.