Masterson tells me to close my eyes. She gently leads me through adeep relaxation exercise. I am once again under mild hypnosis.She says, "You know,...Justin, you really do blame your mother for yourown little sexual fetishes, don't you?" Yes, doctor," I compliantly respond. What Dr. Masterson said makes alot of sense to me."Why don't you just own up to what you desire. Tell me some of thethings that make your dickie nice and hard." I li-like pa-pan-pan-ties," I stutter."Justin, you seem so. His belly button was flush with the rest,merely a dimple. Far below were the curled clips of pubic hair that formeda brow over his genitals; a pale soft penis flopped over peach-fuzz coveredballs. In a boy still looking to grow into his body, his sex organs had wonthat race months ago. While still matching the pale fairness of the rest ofhim, they appeared to have come from a similar but somehow larger boyaltogether.The creature positioned itself over the boy, its arms straddled theteenager's. More

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