This story is a work of fiction with fictitious characters over the age of 18. The story is about a lesbian / bisexual mind control. If that offends you, please stop reading and close this window now. If it doesn't, enjoy this naughty tale.
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Some days are more difficult than others. That's just how life works. Every crest of optimism is followed by trough of complication. With change a universal constant, the Zen path to happiness is simple; be happy. When you know in your heart that crests are destined to come, the troughs aren't as deep or as complex.
Of course, as humans (with very powerful brains), we can collectively overcomplicate our own lives and the lives of others around us to a point of absolute toxicity and fuckery. As an adaptive, living organ, the human brain relies on chemical input to operate. Provide dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins and the brain experiences happiness and related feelings. Pump the brain with cortisol and you induce fear, disappointment, anxiety and stress.
These neurochemicals not only cause temporary feelings, over an extended period of time they can re-wire your brain response centers. In the simplest of explanations, being happy helps your brain evolve into a positive wired brain and being unhappy wires your brain to operate from a basis of negativity.
Tossing aside the complexities of patients with biological brain abnormalities, the vast majority of my clients simply suffer from a chemical imbalance — caused by a multitude of social, environmental and behavioral problems.
My name is Naomi Akana. I am a neuro-surfer and clinical psychologist. I teach people how to ride the waves of life.
I am the daughter of a Long Island Jewish lawyer and a Polynesian surfer-boy from Maui. I'm what happens when a pent-up New York lawyer has one too many Mai Tai on vacation and wander's off with a surfer she met on Lahaina beach. She couldn't leave the city. He wouldn't leave the islands. I spent the summers of my youth in Hawaii from my earliest memories until I attended college there 15-years ago. An odd life for sure but I can't complain. I've got big, Jewish girl boobs with small dark nipples and bronze skin — a visual treat that never fails to inspire my sexual partners.
I let my mind wander between appointments — I have to. So many people, so many problems, if I wasn't a cognitive therapy specialist, I'd have a hell of a time keeping my own head straight. As the clock ticked down to my next appointment, I let my mind drift to beautiful Hawaiian beaches. I visualized the waves and my heels stuck to a well-waxed surfboard as I pushed into my bottom turn and chase the face of the wave ahead of me.
I smiled at the clock. For most people, clocks are a constraint — a device that puts pressure on their life, every moment of every day. For me, a clock sets boundaries, eliminates chaos and, of course, pays my bills. I knew Janine, my next appointment, was in the waiting room. I could have easily started our session early but I learned early in my practice that the easiest way to fail at a time-based business is to ignore the clock. You can't bend the rules of time and you can't surf the backside of a wave.
As the clock spun to the top of the hour, I slid from behind my desk and called Janine in.
"Hi Janine. Come on in."
Janine lifted herself out of the waiting room chair and lugged her backpack and computer bag into my office. Her auburn hair was pulled in a tight ponytail and her trendy, black-framed glasses hung low on her button nose. She wore her usual dark hoodie, ill-fitting jeans and tattered Chuck-Taylor gym shoes with dirty laces.
I sat in my chair as she plopped down her burdensome bags and sat on the couch. I reached to my side table, grabbed my clipboard and push the remote button to begin the video recording of my session.
"How was you're week Janine? Did you work on the things we talked about last meeting?"
"I did Dr. Akana. Some... but not all."
"Let's focus on your accomplishments then. Tell me what you did and how it went."
Janine began to recount the experiences she had with my graded exposure exercises. She was charged with placing herself in social environments that normally cause her severe anxiety. The systematic confrontations of her fears are designed to slowly, over time, diminish the severity through repeated contact. After a year of therapy, Janine was making little progress.
At age 24, Janine is a grad student and classic INFP. She is a highly sensitive introvert who uses every fiber of her being to worry about negative outcomes or seek self-criticism. With two, overachieving, narcissistic parents, she's spent her life being belittled, condemned and misunderstood. If I had a nickel for every fucked up parent that ruined a child, I could retire today.
Janine and I discussed her successes and I gave her another round of tasks to complete. I looked at the clock and our session was nearly complete. As I started to wrap up the our meeting, Janine interrupted me and asked, "Do you do hypnosis Dr. Akana? I was reading online and talking to my friends in an online group about hypnosis and some are saying it really works for them."
I looked at the clock and chose my words very carefully as I answered her, "I've studied the topic in past, maybe we can talk about it more in our next meeting because our time is up today."
"Ok," she said with disappointment, "I might go to that one the others online are using."
"I highly recommend against that Janine," I said defensively.
"But... I have to do something. I just can't take this anymore," she said as she broke down into tears.
I grabbed the box of tissue from my table and sat next to her on the couch. I looked at the clock. While she was my last appointment today, there are rules —but she was right. We were both nearly at our wits end with the lack of her progress. While I didn't believe or condone the validity of hypnosis in successful therapy, the fact was, she did. Regardless of my feelings on hypnosis, the Milgram Experiments had proven subjects willingly obey an authoritarian figure — even in stressful situations. Perhaps, I could use that as an advantage in this situation.
I put my arm around her and handed her the tissue box, "Listen Janine, I don't use hypnosis in my clinical practice but in your case, I'm willing to bend the rules."
Janine quickly looked up at me with a hope in her eyes that I'd never seen before.
"You will?" she said smiling, "Really?"
"Absolutely," I hesitated, "but you have to promise, with all your heart, that this part of our therapy is strictly confidential."
"It so will be," she said with a heightening level of glee in her voice.
"I mean. You have to truly promise me. I mean swear to me."
"I do. I swear."
I thought for a moment and walked over to my desk. I rummaged in the drawer and grabbed a crystal necklace that a patient had given me. I held it in my hand as I rearranged my two siting chairs across from each other and pulled the room darkening curtains closed. I dimmed the overhead lights, instructed Janine sit across from me and explained the process as I sat down.
"Hypnotic therapy is vastly different from what we do in our normal sessions. With hypnosis, I'll be asking you do to things that are leaps and bounds ahead of where we are now. Do you understand this?"
"I do," she nodded.
