Shame Recalibration

Jennifer took a deep breath before logging on to the Zoom call. She felt a deep pang of anxiety over the call, knowing that she'd have to open herself up to a complete stranger. But Dr. Roberts came highly recommend by her regular therapist, who assured her that a session would be well worth her time. And this anxiety was exactly why she was in therapy anyway. She was finding it difficult to function, the lockdown and the time she spent alone in her house seemingly amplifying all the shame and insecurity that she was already dealing with before any of this happened.

She gritted her teeth, put on her headphones, and entered the meeting details. Soon enough, a middle aged woman was on her screen.

"Hello, Jennifer," the woman said. "I'm Dr. Roberts."

"Hello," Jennifer replied tentatively.

"How are you doing?"

Jennifer hesitated, as though the question was more complex than it was. "I--"

On her screen, Dr. Roberts started scribbling something on a notepad. Intrusive thoughts started eating at Jennifer, the young women suddenly fearing that she'd already done something wrong.

Dr. Roberts seemed to sense Jennifer's uneasiness. "Relax, Jennifer. I'm here to help you."

"I'm sorry," Jennifer said. "I'm just anxious all the time."

"Well, let's get to it, then," Dr. Roberts said. "Dr. Jenkins passed on her notes to me, and according to her you have deep issues with shame."

Jennifer nodded. She felt her cheeks burning at the very thought of having her life examined by another doctor, worried about what she'd find.

"Dr. Jenkins thinks that your issues stem from having very strict parents who chastised you for every little infraction."

Jennifer felt herself shrinking in her seat.

"I see this is making you uncomfortable, Jennifer," Dr. Roberts said. "I'm sorry, but we really need to establish a baseline understanding of your issues."

"No, I'm sorry doctor," Jennifer replied. "I'm making this difficult."

"Not at all," the doctor replied. "What you need to know, Jennifer, is that your issues aren't your fault. Shame is a natural reaction, and it can be healthy. But you can be conditioned to overreact to things. If your mother keeps telling you, for example, that you should ashamed for the things you're doing, the things you're thinking, then you're going to believe it."

Jennifer flashed back to several moments in her life as a teenager, when her mother told her exactly that. She had grown up chubby, and was told constantly by her parents that she needed to hide her body, that she looked ridiculous in certain kinds of clothes. And when Jennifer lost the weight, her mother would still tell her that her body was vulgar, and that she'd be a slut if she even considered wearing anything that wasn't completely shapeless and demure. Her wardrobe largely consisted of oversized sweatshirts and ankle length skirts.

Her father, on the other hand, instilled in her a deep shame for any sort of attraction to any one. Once, she mentioned that she thought a boy in her class was cute, and her father gave her a sermon about the perils of sex, and accused her of becoming a wanton woman. She once commented that she thought an actress was pretty, and her father threatened to disown over being sinful.

Later on, she'd find that any remotely sexual thoughts she had would trigger her anxiety. It had made it all but impossible to make connections to people, as any shred of attraction she had for anyone else could bring on a panic attack.

Dr. Roberts' voice broke through her reverie. "Jennifer," she said. "If this is too hard for you, we can reschedule for another time."

Jennifer considered it, but fought through her own neuroses. "No, I want to be better."

Dr. Roberts smiled. "Well then, let's just move on."

"So how does this work?" Jennifer asked.

"Well, I'm going to try to put you in a hypnotic state," Dr. Roberts replied. "Then, while you're there, we're going to do some visualization exercises that might help you recalibrate your shame reactions."

"Recalibrate?"

"Yes, that's the term I like to use. We're going to try to reset your baseline, basically. Put you in a place that's more in line with the rest of society. It's kind of a hack, I admit, but I've had plenty of success with other patients."

"How do you hypnotize someone over the Internet?" Jennifer asked.

"It's more of a challenge, certainly, but in the end, it's really just about getting someone to a more relaxed state." Dr. Roberts replied. "Now, shall we begin?"

Jennifer wasn't sure she was ready, but she nodded in spite of herself.

***

Dr. Roberts took Jennifer through a series of breathing exercises, prompting her to focus on the sound of her own breath. The doctor guided her through it, her voice soothing and melodic, even through the Internet compression.

"Are you feeling relaxed, Jennifer?" the voice asked.

"Yes."

"That's good. Keep focusing on your breathing, the regular rhythm of air going in and out of your body. With each breath, I want you to go deeper into this relaxed state. Can you do that?"

Jennifer didn't answer. She was relishing the absence of her anxiety, and found herself wanting to go deeper herself. In her mind, she was following sound of her own breathing down a gentle, sloped path to a place deeper inside herself.

"You're doing very well, Jennifer" Dr. Roberts said, her voice now sounding strangely distant in her ears.

"Mm," Jennifer managed.

"Now, Jennifer. I want you to imagine a place where you're safe and comfortable. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm...in my treehouse," Jennifer said. "The treehouse that my dad built for me on my fifth birthday."

"That's good, Jennifer. Be in that treehouse. It's a good place to be. You can be completely yourself in there. No one else can come in."

Jennifer smiled, feeling safe and secure.

"Now, Jennifer, I need to ask you a question. Is that okay?"

Jennifer nodded languidly.

"Can you tell me a time when you don't feel any shame at all?"

Jennifer furrowed her brow in thought. After a moment, she spoke. "When I'm working."

"What do you do for work, Jennifer?"

"I'm an accountant."

"Ah, you work with numbers." Dr. Roberts said. "What do you like about your work?"

Jennifer thought for a second again. It wasn't really something she thought about. She realized that she did find some real satisfaction in it.

"I like...being good at something," she said, finally. "I'm good at my job. I take pride in it."

"Great," Dr. Roberts said. "I want you to remember this feeling. This is what it feels like when there's no shame in you. This is you when you're just happy about yourself."

Jennifer smiled, finding comfort in that feeling.

"Now, I'm afraid this is going to be a little more unpleasant," Dr. Roberts said. "But it's necessary to help you, okay, Jennifer?"

Jennifer frowned, but nodded languidly again.

"I need you to think of a time when you're most ashamed," the doctor said.

Jennifer shook her head. Why would she want that?

"You don't need to tell me about it, Jennifer. Just put it in your head, and tell me how you feel. Remember, you're safe in your treehouse. You will be fine."

A rush of thoughts came at Jennifer, twenty-four years of feelings coming to the surface. She thought about that time she had a sex dream, and woke up having soaked through her sheets. And she went into a panic thinking about what she'd say to her parents. She remembered bundling up the sheets in a panic, and trying to sneak into the laundry room to clean it herself. She thought about all the times she saw herself naked in the mirror, thinking of her body as either being gross and overweight, or sinful and slutty. She thought about all the times she found somebody attractive, all the times she had a fleeting fantasy of being with someone, before falling into a shame spiral and punishing herself mentally for having such thoughts.

She flashed back to the day that she lost her virginity. One of the school's football players was suddenly giving her a lot of attention, and in spite of everything she was flattered by it. She thought little of going under the bleachers with him, and what reluctance that arrived was overcome by his insistent prodding. When he was done, which was not long, he laughed and called her slut. And the rest of the football team was waiting outside the bleachers, giving her looks that would stick with her for the rest of her time in high school.

Jennifer tensed in her seat, her skin bright red from all the shame being brought to the surface.

"Okay, Jennifer," she heard Dr. Roberts say. "Stay with me. You're still safe. You're in your treehouse."

Jennifer gritted her teeth. This feels awful, she thought, and she desperately wanted relief.

"Jennifer, listen to me. I want you to imagine a dial on the wall of your treehouse. Like a thermostat, with numbers going from 0 to 10. It's set at ten right now. Do you see it?"

In her mind, Jennifer looked around the treehouse, and saw the dial. She nodded.

"That's good Jennifer. This is your shame dial. Ten is what you're feeling right now. And zero is what you feel when you're doing work. Do you understand?"

Jennifer furrowed her brow.

"I know it sounds weird, Jennifer, but I promise you it's true. We're going to try it out, okay? Remember, you're in control."

Jennifer nodded hesitantly.

"Go to the dial, Jennifer. It's at ten, right?"

She nodded.

"We're going to do this slowly, okay? Turn the dial down to nine. And then I want you to tell me how it feels."

She reached out and put her hand on the dial, turning it counterclockwise until the marker lined up with the nine. Jennifer felt something change inside her, as though a taut wire suddenly loosened slightly.

"Tell me how you're feeling," she heard the doctor say.

"I feel...better," she replied. Jennifer still didn't feel quite all right, the anxiety still running rampant in her mind. But compared to just a moment ago, she felt relatively relieved.

"Good," Dr. Roberts said. "Now Jennifer, I want you to be very careful with that dial, okay? Just leave it alone for now."

Jennifer face twisted into an expression of frustration. "But I want to turn it down some more."

"I understand, Jennifer, but we're only just establishing your limits; getting you to understand the mechanics of this therapy so that it works. Right now, you're still thinking of the things that bring you the most shame, and it makes sense that you're having an extreme reaction. Before you touch that dial again, we need to move on to another scenario, and you can tell me where the dial is at. And then we can make adjustments"

Jennifer understood this on some level, but did not like it. The dial was right there, and she knew it could make her feel better. And Dr. Roberts told her that she was supposed to be in control. On the other hand, she didn't really want to disobey the doctor. Her guidance had led her this far, and Jennifer was genuinely invested in getting better.

She hesitantly acknowledged her understanding with a nod.

"Okay, Jennifer," she heard the doctor say. "Now we'll--"

She heard a pair of tones, and then nothing more. Jennifer patiently waited for more instruction from the doctor, but nothing was coming. If she was in a fully conscious state, she might have realized that their call had dropped. But Jennifer was still in her childhood treehouse, lingering on thoughts that brought her the most shame.

She waited some more, and with no instructions coming, she was forced to focus even deeper on all the things that made her feel terrible. Her dirtiest thoughts came to the surface, all the fantasies that she's had in idle moments, the ones she immediately tried to shun away in her mind. She thought about the little tingle that she gets in her pussy sometimes when she sees her handsome neighbor, who was prone to bringing girls home and having loud sex with them. She thought about her desire to be one of those girls; to be seen in that way by a man she found attractive.

The shame came in painful waves, making her chest feel tight, and sending a ripple through her guts. She felt tears in her eyes, and the words of her parents echoing in her ears. They were always so ashamed of her, so disgusted that they had raised such an awful little girl with such dirty tendencies.

In the treehouse, Jennifer looked up and saw the dial on the wall, still set at nine. And without thinking, she grabbed it and turned it counterclockwise.

She could feel some the shame dissipating, bringing much needed relief to her psyche. She looked at the dial and saw that it was set at six. And she instinctively felt that the number was appropriate to what she was feeling. She still felt like there was something wrong with the things she was thinking, still felt some guilt for being able to imagine such dirty things. But she was no longer crippled by the anxiety that the shame brought on. She felt like she could function this way.

And there was a part of her telling her that she should stop, that she had already gone too far somehow. Part of her remembered Dr. Roberts' warnings, and understood that there are supposed to be healthy limits to what she was doing.

But she could no longer hear Dr. Roberts, and a much stronger part of her wanted to be free of the anxiety she'd suffered from for so long.

She was in control, she thought, as she brought a hand up to the dial and turned it all the way down to zero.

Jennifer felt good. She felt...right, like everything in her world made sense. She didn't have to feel bad about anything anymore. She was just doing what was supposed to be done.

She reveled in the feeling of being so free, in having nothing inside her weighing her down. Then, somewhere in the distance, she heard the ringing of her phone. With each ring, it seemed to grow louder, reminding her that there was a world outside of her little sanctuary.

Jennifer woke up still in her chair, her room coming into focus. Her phone was on her desk, ringing loudly. The screen showed a number that she didn't recognize.

She answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Thank goodness I reached you," the voice on the other line said. "It's Dr. Roberts. I'm sorry the call cut out. We had a blackout here in Texas, and it shut everything down."

"Oh," Jennifer replied.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes I'm fine, doctor," she replied.

"We should schedule another session as soon as possible, to make sure no damage was done. I'll try to get access to a working computer."

"It's fine, doctor," Jennifer said. "No need to worry yourself. No harm done."

"I'd feel much better if we can get another session going."

"No hurry, doctor. It seems like you've got a lot of things to deal with over there. I think I'm okay."

"Jennifer, it's really important that--"

"Thank you doctor," Jennifer interrupted. "I think you've really helped me." With that, she ended the call.

***

Jennifer assessed her naked body in the mirror. She had never done this before, never really looked at herself in this way. She would rush past the bathroom mirror after getting out of the shower, her naked body a potent source of her shame.

But she decided in this moment that there was really nothing to be ashamed about. She had gained a little weight during the pandemic, but she thought it added a pleasant softness to her shape. She had been obsessive about losing weight before, owing to all the derision her parents gave her for being a chubby child. She used to get frustrated over the largeness of her breasts, and how they were a part of her that would attract attention. But now, she thought they were beautiful. She placed an arm underneath them, propping her mounds up as she arched her back slightly to thrust her chest out. She looked good, she thought.

She then turned her attention lower, down to the dark mound of hair covering her pubis. She had never given it much attention, only giving it a trim every now and then when it started to feel uncomfortable. Now, she was thinking about how pretty it might look if it was all gone.

She sat on her bed and spread her legs. She spread apart her lips, revealing the light pink of her labia. Slowly, she let her fingers explore the surface of her cunt, taking note of the parts that elicited the most pleasurable sensations. She found her way to her clitoris, and she started playing with herself in earnest.

All the while, she watched herself in the mirror, this strange, sexual creature that was taking pleasure from herself. And she thought how right it felt, how good she was at doing it. She felt an odd sense of pride at seeing herself like this, a tinge of satisfaction that was akin to the feeling of a job well done.

Soon enough, her fingers drew an orgasm out her, and her delight was compounded by the image she saw in the mirror. For the first time, she witnessed her own pleasure, and she found it wonderful.

She needed more, she decided. She thought about her neighbor, Mike, and went for a phone. She started typing out a message.

"Hey neighbor. U doing anything?"

As she waited for a reply, she opened her camera app and started taking pictures of herself. She went through several different poses, each one an attempt to expose as much of her body as possible. She wanted to capture her desire, make it clear that this was a body that needed to be fucked. A small trill of pleasure went through her as she looked at a photo of herself smiling broadly, her legs spread, pussy glistening with wetness.

A ping from phone, and a reply for her neighbor. "Hey. Not much. What's up?"

"Cum over," she typed. She attached that last photo and sent it.

She wondered if that was too much, but she found that she really didn't care. If Mike didn't want to come over, she'd just send the picture to people until somebody did. She just wanted to be fucked, and she felt a need to make up for lost time.

She heard a knocking on her apartment door. She got up and practically skipped to the entrance. She opened the door, surprising Mike with her nudity.

"Damn, girl," Mike said, his eyes wide.

Jennifer said nothing. Instead, she fell to her knees and grabbed at Mike's belt.

"Whoa, whoa," he said, looking around the hallway. "You can at least wait until we get inside."

"I don't fucking care," Jennifer said. She quickly pulled out his rapidly hardening cock and immediately put her mouth on it. She looked up at Mike with urgency as she stroked his shaft and set her tongue to work on the head.

Mike looked alarmed, but had no intention of leaving the encounter. He started moving forward, trying to nudge Jennifer into the indoor space. Eventually he managed to get the door closed behind him. He then grabbed Jennifer by the hair, and drovedeeper into her mouth.

Jennifer choked on Mike's cock, but this did nothing to deter her. In her head, she was finding a strange sort of satisfaction from his forcefulness, in his seeing her as just something to be used. It sent a shockwave down to her core, causing her pussy to tingle in anticipation.

After a minute of this, she pulled away and took a couple of deep breaths. She then stood up and grabbed Mike's cock, and she looked at him with deeply focused eyes. She led him by the cock to the kitchen counter. She bent over and stared back at him.

"Fuck me," she said.

Mike needed no more prodding. He got up behind her, lined up his cock with her wet slit, and drove forward. Her slick pussy accommodated him, accepting his length fully with no resistance.

He stayed there for a second, taking in the feeling of her insides. And then, he started moving in and out, building up speed and force as he went.

"Is this what you want, slut?" he said.

Jennifer laughed at hearing the word "slut." For years it was a trigger to her worst anxieties. And now, it had no power over her. She turned her head back again at the man fucking her, smiling broadly.