Cognitive Body Therapy
I adjusted my glasses and leaned back in my office chair, the glow of my monitor lighting up my face. It was our twelfth session. Sohil’s video feed filled most of the screen. He was shirtless again, sitting in his gaming chair in is room, one thick arm draped lazily over the backrest. His dark chest hair was still slightly damp, like he’d just come back from the gym.
Sohil Kapoor. Thirty-two. Bisexual. Sex addict.
At least that’s what he called himself.
“Evening, Dr. Reddin,” he said with that familiar half-smirk. His voice had that deep, easy confidence that always carried a hint of mischief.
“Hello, Sohil,” I replied calmly, keeping my tone professional. “How have things been since our last session?”
He let out a tired laugh and ran a hand through his messy black hair. “Same old shit. Made it nine days this time with this guy I really liked… then I fucked his best friend in the parking lot after drinks.” He shook his head. “I’m starting to think there’s something actually broken in me. Like physically. Other people can control themselves. I can’t. Its like my dick has its own fucking brain.”
I nodded, listening carefully. I’d heard variations of this from him for months now. His friends had pushed him into therapy after yet another destroyed relationship. He was charming, successful, and objectively very attractive — which only made the pattern more destructive.
“We’ve discussed open relationships,” I said. “You mentioned your last attempt didn’t go well.”
“Yeah, because even with permission I still broke every rule. Especially the condom one. I need to feel it raw. The second there’s latex I lose half the sensation and it just… doesn’t do it for me.” He sighed heavily.
I paused, tapping my pen against my notepad. We had made some progress, but it was slow. Too slow. I knew it was time to suggest something more radical.
“Sohil,” I said carefully, “I’d like to propose an unconventional treatment option. One I only use in really rare cases.”
He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to the camera. “What is it?”
I met his eyes through the screen.
“Body swapping. A temporary therapeutic exchange. I would enter your body, and you would enter mine. It would allow me to experience your impulses and urges directly. To understand the intensity of what you’re dealing with from the inside. That level of insight could help me develop far more effective strategies for managing your compulsions.”
Sohil stared at me for a long moment, his mouth slightly open.
“You’re… serious?”
“Very,” I said. “It’s not without risks, and it’s not something I suggest lightly. But after six months, I believe this may be what we need to make real progress.”
I watched his face carefully. There was surprise, hesitation… and something else.
He swallowed visibly.
“Ok… so when can we do it?”
---
The following week, we logged onto our scheduled Zoom session. Sohil appeared on my screen looking unusually tense, sitting in the same spot on his couch.
“How are you feeling about the swap? Are you ready?” I asked, keeping my voice steady and clinical.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? Nervous as hell. But also… kind of excited? I’ve been like this my whole adult life. If you can actually feel what it’s like in here,” he gestured to his own body, “maybe you’ll finally get it. Maybe you can help me fix it.”
We spent most of the session discussing boundaries, consent, and the temporary nature of the procedure. Toward the end, I walked him through the final steps.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
Sohil nodded. “Let’s do it.”
We both initiated the swap through the secure therapeutic portal. There was a bright flash across my screen, a dizzying rush, and then everything shifted.
When my vision cleared, I was no longer looking at my monitor from my office chair.
I was looking at it from Sohil’s couch.
A massive wave of heat crashed over me instantly. My — his — cock thickened rapidly in my pants, throbbing with urgent need. The intensity was staggering. My thoughts grew hazy as raw, aggressive horniness flooded my system. I gripped the edge of the couch, trying desperately to maintain professional composure.
On the screen, Sohil — now in my body — let out a long, relieved exhale. He adjusted my glasses and smiled softly.
“Wow… I can actually think,” he said, sounding lighter than I’d ever heard him. “No constant noise in my head. This is… peaceful.”
I forced a professional tone, even as my new cock continued to pulse insistently between my legs. “That’s… excellent, Sohil. So as I said, we’ll remain in these bodies for the next few weeks. This will give me time to fully understand your urges and begin implementing strategies while I’m in your body. We can get your physical routines and habits started on the right track.”
As I spoke, my eyes drifted down to the screen — to the slight cleavage visible in the blouse I had been wearing. God, is that really how he saw me every session? I made a mental note to dress far more modestly once we swapped back.
Sohil cleared his throat. “Dr. Reddin?”
I blinked, snapping back to attention. “Sorry. I lost my train of thought for a moment.” I continued explaining the plan, trying to sound composed, but the throbbing between my legs was becoming unbearable.
Under the table, my hand moved almost on its own. I unbuttoned Sohil’s pants, wrapped my fingers around his thick, hard cock, and started stroking slowly. The pleasure was overwhelming. I kept talking, voice slightly strained, while pumping faster, getting dangerously close to the edge.
“…and we’ll check in regularly to monitor progress,” I finished, barely holding it together.
“Sounds good,” Sohil said, nodding in my body.
I ended the call as quickly as possible.
The second the screen went black, I let out a shaky breath. Not even thirty seconds later, I came hard. Thick ropes of cum shot across the underside of the table as Sohil’s cock pulsed violently in my hand. My vision whited out for a moment from the intensity.
I sat there panting, staring at the mess I’d made.
Damn… this guy’s body was horny.
Sohil hadn’t been exaggerating at all.
---
Over the next couple of days, I tried to resist.
I really did.
But Sohil’s body had other plans.
The first morning I put on one of his tight black t-shirts. The fabric stretched across his broad chest and hugged his biceps perfectly. Just the feeling of the material clinging to my new arms as I moved sent a low throb through my cock. I had to sit down for a minute and breathe through it.
Later that afternoon I went for a walk. A light breeze picked up and rippled his loose tank top against my chest. The soft fabric dragged across my nipples and I instantly hardened in my shorts. I had to stop and pretend to tie my shoe just so I could adjust myself discreetly.
At the grocery store, a young woman in a slightly low-cut top reached for something on a high shelf. The way her breasts pressed together as she stretched made my mouth go dry. I stood there frozen for several seconds, staring, before I forced myself to look away. My cock was already half-hard in my sweatpants.
Then there was my neighbor — a tall, muscular guy who walked out shirtless to grab his mail. The sight of his defined chest and abs glistening in the sun made something primal surge through me. I stood at the window watching him longer than I should have, my hand unconsciously pressing against the growing bulge in my pants.
Every single time, no matter how minor the trigger, I ended up painfully hard.
And without fail, the moment I got home I went straight to Sohil’s bedroom. I’d strip down completely naked, climb onto his bed, and wrap my hand around his thick cock. I’d stroke myself furiously, sometimes for less than five minutes, before I came hard — thick loads splattering across my hairy stomach and chest.
Yesterday I made it through the entire day without touching myself until I got home. Today I only lasted until 2 PM before I was back in his room, pants around my ankles, jerking off like a man possessed while staring at myself in the full-length mirror.
This body was insatiable.
I thought going to the gym might help burn off some of the constant energy. But it just made everything worse.
The moment I walked into Sohil’s gym wearing one of his tank tops and shorts, I felt eyes on me. His body drew attention — broad shoulders, thick arms, the way his chest hair peeked out from the neckline. Every time I lifted weights, the pump in my biceps and pecs made my cock twitch. The burn in my muscles somehow translated straight into arousal.
By the third set of bench presses I was fully hard. I had to practically sprint to the locker room stalls. I locked myself in one, dropped my shorts, and jerked off furiously, biting my lip to stay quiet. I came in under two minutes, shooting against the stall door. Even after that, I was still half-hard.
Even then I couldn’t control myself. I started approaching people — a pretty woman doing squats in tight leggings, a muscular guy checking himself out in the mirror. I was way too forward. Told the woman she had an incredible ass and asked if she wanted to grab a smoothie after her workout. Told the guy his arms looked strong and offered to spot him… then immediately suggested we spot each other somewhere more private. Both of them gave me polite but very clear rejections.
I stood there in the middle of the gym, Sohil’s face flushed with embarrassment and lingering arousal, realizing how desperate I must have looked. This body didn’t just want sex — it craved it constantly, and it had no filter.
---
By day six, I was losing the battle.
After another humiliating rejection at the gym and two more desperate jerk-off sessions at home, I gave in and downloaded Grindr on Sohil’s phone.
The app opened and immediately flooded the screen with nearby profiles. Shirtless torsos, hard cocks, hungry stares. Within minutes the messages started pouring in.
“Damn dude you’re hot as fuck.”
“Top or bottom?”
“Hosting right now if you wanna come through.”
I told myself I was just researching. Just trying to understand the scale of his compulsions. But my cock was already rock hard as I scrolled through the endless stream of willing men.
There were so many. Hot guys. Fit guys. Hung guys. Some wanted to fuck me. Most wanted me to fuck them.
I started chatting with one guy — mid-20s, muscular, only two blocks away. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent him a face pic and told him I could be there in ten minutes.
The moment I stepped into his apartment, any last shred of professional restraint vanished. He barely had the door closed before I had him pinned against the wall, kissing him hard. Within minutes I had him bent over his couch, fucking him raw and deep while he moaned loudly.
It felt incredible.
The power, the heat, the raw physical pleasure of pounding into someone with Sohil’s thick cock — it was overwhelming. I came hard inside him, groaning as I filled him up. He asked if I wanted to go again. I did.
I ended up staying for almost two hours.
When I finally left, legs shaky, I felt a strange mix of shame and satisfaction. On the walk home my cock was already stirring again at the memory.
That night I opened Grindr again.
---
After a few days of nonstop Grindr hookups — sometimes two or three different guys in a single day — the novelty started to wear off. The sex was good, intense even, but something was missing.
I needed pussy.
Tinder proved much slower and more frustrating. The matches came in, but the back-and-forth flirting took time I didn’t want to waste. My patience was nonexistent in this body.
I knew it was a terrible idea. Unethical. A complete violation of every professional boundary. But the urge was louder than reason.
I opened the camera on Sohil’s phone and took a series of thirst traps — shirtless in the mirror, flexing his biceps, one with his hand pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants just enough to show the thick base of his cock. I sent them to my own number.
The message I typed made my stomach twist even as I hit send:
“I know you want to get fucked by yourself. I just know you want to feel your old cock deep in that pussy.”
I stared at the sent messages, heart racing.
Three dots appeared, then stopped. Then appeared again.
Before he could reply, the images and words hit me like gasoline on a fire. I was so turned on I couldn’t wait. I shoved my pants down, wrapped my hand around Sohil’s throbbing cock, and jerked off furiously on the couch to the fantasy of fucking my own body. I came hard within minutes, groaning loudly as thick ropes of cum splattered across my hairy chest.
The second the orgasm faded, cold reality crashed down on me.
What the hell did I just do?
I quickly sent a string of apologetic messages:
“I’m so sorry. That was completely inappropriate.” “I lost control. That was unprofessional and wrong.” “Please forgive me.”
Sohil (in my body) replied a few minutes later:
“No worries doc lol. I understand exactly what that feeling is like. Trust me.”
I let out a shaky breath, still half-hard despite just cumming.
“I’m going to figure this out,” I typed back, trying to sound more in control than I felt. “I’m going to find a real way to help you manage these urges. I promise.”
I set the phone down and looked at myself in the mirror — Sohil’s muscular, hairy body staring back at me, cum still drying on my abs.
---
I tried to resist.
I really, really tried.
I deleted Grindr twice. I went to the gym and forced myself to focus only on lifting. I tried meditation apps, cold showers, even jerking off six times in one day just to take the edge off. Nothing worked. The horniness always came back stronger, like a constant buzzing under my skin that refused to be ignored.
One night, I put on one of Sohil’s tight black shirts and a pair of fitted jeans and went to a gay bar downtown. The place was packed and loud. Within twenty minutes I locked eyes with a cute, twinky guy in his mid-twenties with messy light brown hair, smooth skin, and a hungry look in his eyes. He was exactly my type.
We barely spoke.
I walked straight up to him, grabbed him by the waist, and pulled him in for a rough kiss. He melted against me immediately. No names. No small talk. I took his hand and led him straight to the bathroom.
The moment the stall door locked, I spun him around, yanked his pants down, and shoved him forward against the wall. I pulled my own cock out, barely taking time to spit on it before I pushed inside him.
“Fuck…” he moaned loudly as I sank in deep.
I started thrusting hard, one hand gripping his hip, the other braced against the stall wall. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the small space.
“Sohil… fuck, Sohil,” he gasped, moaning my — Sohil’s — name.
A dark thrill shot through me.
“Fuck yeah,” I growled, pounding into him harder.
“Sohil… oh my god—”
Hearing him moan while I was balls-deep inside him made something primal take over. I fucked him with long, powerful strokes, gripping his waist tight as I drove into him again and again.
I didn’t last long. The way his tight hole clenched around my thick cock — it was too much. I buried myself deep and came hard, groaning as I filled him up.
I was still catching my breath, cock softening inside him, when reality started to crash back in.
The guy I had just raw-fucked in a public bathroom stall was Drew — one of my other therapy clients. Mid-twenties, gender-questioning, sweet but anxious. I had been seeing him for months. I had been too horny to even recognize him until now.
Then it hit me.
He had been moaning “Sohil” the entire time.
I never told him my — Sohil’s — name.
I pulled out slowly, heart pounding for a completely different reason now.
“Do we… know each other?” I asked, voice rough.
The guy — Drew — turned around with a lazy, satisfied grin that looked completely out of place on his face. He looked me up and down, eyes lingering on Sohil’s cock.
“I think I would recognize my own former body,” he said casually. “And damn… its dick feels good. I get why people put up with me even though I was such a cheater.”
I froze.
“Wait… Sohil?”
He smirked. “Hey, Doc.”
I stared at him — at my client’s body — in complete disbelief.
“What the hell are you doing in Drew’s body?”
Sohil (in Drew’s smaller, twinky frame) shrugged, still breathing hard from getting fucked.
“Drew’s been seeing you too, right? He’s been talking about wanting to transition for a while. Really wanted a woman’s body to start figuring shit out. So I offered him a swap. He gets your body — soft, feminine. I get his cute little gay body with way less constant horniness. Win-win.”
He reached down and gave Sohil’s cock — my current cock — a playful squeeze, still slick from being inside him.
“I’ve been having a great time, honestly. This body is so much easier to manage. I can actually think straight. I could get used to this. Could maybe even see myself getting into a relationship. Meanwhile, you’ve been living my old life…” He raised an eyebrow. “How’s that been going for you, Doc?”
I stood there, pants still open, cum slowly leaking down Drew’s thigh, trying to process everything.
Sohil in Drew’s body just smiled sweetly.
“By the way… you fuck really good in my body.”
My cock twitched and started hardening again almost immediately, still slick from being inside him. I was furious — at Sohil, at myself, at this entire situation — but the anger only seemed to make the arousal worse. The rational part of my brain was screaming that I needed to stop, to think clearly, to regain control.
But Sohil — or Drew, or whoever the hell he was right now — was right here. Convenient. Already bent over, his hole glistening with my cum, still slightly open and twitching.
I grabbed his hips and pushed back inside him in one smooth thrust.
“Fuck, Doc,” he moaned in Drew’s lighter voice, pushing back against me. “Round two already?”
I didn’t answer. I just started fucking him again, harder this time, my hips slapping against his ass. The wet, filthy sound of my cock sliding through my own load filled the stall. Every thrust felt better than the last. My mind was fogging over again, thoughts becoming slippery and unfocused.
We could switch it all back… if only…
I tried to hold onto the thought, but it kept sliding away.
If only… what was I trying to do again?
The question dissolved as pleasure took over. I gripped his waist tighter and pounded into him, grunting with each deep stroke. Sohil in Drew’s body moaned loudly, clearly loving every second.
“God, you really can’t control it, can you?” he gasped between thrusts, sounding amused. “Feels good though, doesn’t it?”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to pull out and walk away. But instead I fucked him even harder, chasing that building pressure again, my balls tightening as I got closer to another orgasm.