Thursday

Then, it happened. It started with a sniffle. Then a sob. A lip-quiver. Then came the torrent as he bawled loudly. Hot tears ran down his cheeks. He was a failure, a monster, a perverted fraud.

He honestly cared about them, the Warners. He hoped he might reach her, that he could help her. But now the truth could not be denied. He was a failure. He could never hope to reach her, not as he was. Not after this. He would never be able to look her in the eye, much less speak to her. To say nothing of her brothers.

“...It’s too late for that.”, she had said and now he understood.

“Two years…I tried everything…except asking her to stop.”

He wept bitterly. This was not the man he wanted to be. Thirteen years of schooling, studying, missed dates, and here he was having a breakdown in front of the very patient he was supposed to help. That he still had an uncomfortably hard erection only damned him further. It was strangely comforting in a way to remind himself what was about to happen.

He cried, not even noticing that he mysterious acquired a kerchief. What he did notice, was the gentle hand on his shoulder. It was a warm touch. Reassuring. Calming. It reminded him of his nana. He almost expected to see her wrinkled face when he looked up. The face that met his eyes was far younger, had a red nose, short muzzle, white skin and two black eyes.

This Dot was different. Not the malicious huntress slowly tightening a noose around his neck, not the fiend that tormented him. This Dot was kind, soft, compassionate. The eyes, though black, radiated warmth.

She pulled herself to a seat on the arm rest. "Want to talk about it Scratchy?"

"Vhy?" he asked.

"It'll make you feel better." she replied. Even the tone of her voice was different. To the doctor, she projected an almost sisterly aura.

The doctor kept his guard: "No. No it von’t."

The same patient smile crossed her muzzle. "Try me."

He looked to her. Did he dare hope? "Vhy do you hate me Dot? Vhat did I do to deserve zhis?"

"You mean aside from getting off watching a little girl play with a pen?”

He sobbed again. He was fast learning that Dot Warner could destroy someone with words alone.

“I don't hate you Scratchy."

"Then vhy? Vhy do you vant to…to…" The doctor then beheld the rarest of sights: Dot Warner, in serious contemplation.

"When you put it that way, I really haven't been fair to you. Have I Scratchy?" she finally said. Then slipped off the arm of the chair.

"Dot. I just vant to help you and your brothers. You know zhat don’t you? You know I'm not zhat kind of man."

She held up her hand, now slick with his spend, "Su-ure you aren’t.”

He turned away in shame.

"How long Scratchy?"

This Dot was warmer, kinder, but she was still Dot. It would do no good to lie to her, or himself. So he answered. "A year. That's why I started taking the pills."

"Pills?"

"Ja."

"Well that explains a lot. So what happened today? Felt lucky?"

"Zhey vere discontinued."

Dot doubled over in a fit of laughter. Then she fell silent and again transfixed him with her stare. The abyss gazed back. Then, mercifully, she blinked.

"I misjudged you Scratchy,” she said, “A smart person would’ve quit. A pervert would’ve given in sooner. You decided to stick it out. Long-term side-effects be damned.” Then, she smiled. It was, oddly comforting.

"I vouldn't be much of a doctor if I quit on my patients."

She daubed his cheek dry, and returned to the couch where she sat in proper lady-like fashion. Hope blossomed again, along with a disappointment. That he was disappointed brought another shame-fed flush to his face and another fit of laughter from Dot.

"Tell you what Scratchy. We’ve got ten-minutes left." she said, looking to the clock.

"I don't understand. Vhat do you-"

She cut him off with a sharp snap of her fingers. Before his very eyes she changed, or rather, she aged. Her body grew as if by some crazy time-lapse and where there had been an adorable child, now sat an adult woman. She was taller and possessed of a trim figure with generous endowments  of the legs, thighs and bust. He had seen glimpses of those legs, he had seen the phantasmal shadows of those breasts. Her skirt, however, whether by purpose or limitation, did not change with her. He saw white frills again and this time-lacked the will to look away.

"Dot. I…"

"I'm not a little girl Scratchy. I’m just drawn that way." she said.

"You're serious."

"Unless, you prefer me a little younger."

A heat of shame rose to his face. “A few minutes ago you vere planning to, you know. Vhy the change?” he asked.

Dot absently waved of her hand, “Sometimes fish get thrown back.”

“But—”

Dot held up a finger and again popped a claw. Mice should not question the cat’s clemency. So he thought. He gathered his wits and courage. Then, he spoke.

"Anything?” he asked.

"That’s right Scratchy. No penalties. It’ll be our little secret." she answered, reclining with a boneless fluidity on the couch. “So what'll it be? tick-tock, tick-tock."

“Could ve just have a normal session? Please.”

Dot sat up. Surprise was a look Dot seldom wore. “A girl offers you a freebie and you want to go back to work? You sure you shouldn't be the one on this couch Scratchy?"

"Vhat would be zhe point? Next week vhill be zhe same." he said. The doctor knew he wouldn’t get a second chance. “After Zhis I—”

"—Tell you what Scratchy,” she interrupted, “You stay on the job. And I’ll keep it to PG-13. Go easy on the pills and I’ll knock it down to a PG.” She removed her glove and offered a hand. “Deal?”

He nodded and they shook on it. “Thank you Dot.” He didn’t quite believe her, but at least this Dot, could be reasoned with.

  ***