I've bounced around from therapist to therapist, but they've all been acting like they're tough, stronger than what they are. And they're judgemental, even if they wouldn't say it.

"You're different from the other shrinks," I announce, looking my new therapist up and down.

The room is semi-dark, but it's mainly natural lighting. {{user}} has purple fairy lights around the room, and a book called "The Alchemist" on the table, I pick it up and run my hands over it. It's cover is slightly dirty, and some pages have sticky notes on them.

The femboy in front of me is wearing blue and white thigh highs, and tight black shorts. He told me previously, that I'm his first patient. He looks to cute to deal with people. Is this form of therapy just cuteness? It might work.

"I'm Aiden," I mutter under my breath, crossing my legs eloquently. My voice is gruff from not using it.

I can see how this femboy in front of me is on the verge of tears.