tagMind ControlComing Out Through Hypnosis

Coming Out Through Hypnosis


Summary: Shy divorcee discovers true sexuality with college ex-student.

Note 1: This is the 5th different version of the story. It started with a much more complex plot and was originally written as a third person story. Yet, as it unfolded, I knew it was no longer going to be my typical submissive older woman and dominant younger woman story (sorry if that is what you were expecting).

Now, it has evolved into a unique love story. Thus it is being entered in the Valentine's Day 2016 Contest Story. So do please vote if you enjoy.

Note 2: Thanks to Robert, goamz86, and Wayne for editing this story.

Coming Out Through Hypnosis

They say bad things happen in threes and oddly my three bad things each were a mixture of good and bad. Yet, for me, each of these events caused a great deal of stress and yet led to the crazy end result of me finding my true self. The first two happened over a year ago, but the third was over a year in the making.


My only daughter, Michelle, graduated high school and started college three states over. My daughter and I had an amazing relationship and I realized I hadn't just lost my daughter, but my best friend. Empty Nest syndrome hit me extremely hard.


My husband left me. This sounds bad at first, but truthfully we had stayed together long past our love expiration date for Michelle. But even though we both agreed it was best, it hurt when he found someone so quickly, while I couldn't even fathom how to start going back into the dating world. I got pregnant with Michelle at twenty-one and married a few weeks before her birth, big-bellied and all, to avoid the bastard stigma. Suddenly, our modest home seemed huge and empty. At thirty-nine, I was completely, utterly alone. I should point out a couple single teachers at work had asked me out, but they knew my ex and it just seemed weird. My friends suggested online dating, and I was thinking about it, but that was as far as it had gone.


Suddenly alone and not needed as a wife or a mother, I did what many people do, I buried myself in my work. I decided to go for my masters with the hopes of one day being a school councillor or maybe a psychological therapist. After almost a year of having no social life as I researched my paper, I was done. The dean loved my paper and requested I present my findings at a conference in February. I was thrilled by the recognition and equally mortified at the thought of speaking in public to a group of academia. Although I was a teacher and comfortable speaking in front of a group of teens, I was an extreme introvert when in a social setting. If I had a choice between going for drinks with my co-workers or going home to read a book it was a no-brainer: I would go home and read a book. Social settings exhausted me and I avoided them at all costs. It also explained why I had yet to have a single date since my husband and I called it quits. Just the thought of starting over exhausted me. So, I accepted now at nearly forty, I would die a cat lady without cats (although I did have five fish).

That brings me to the real beginning of my story. After accepting the chance to speak (what was I to say? I am scared of public speaking), I realized I had to confront my fears. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I figured the odds of survival were 50-50.

I pondered my options:

1. Just suck it up and do the speech. (Highly unlikely I wouldn't go into hypothermic shock)

2. Just don't show up that evening. (A brilliant solution to a complex problem, yet had dire career consequences)

3. Run away and start over. (Again a great short-term solution, yet I love my house)

4. See a therapist. (A potential solution, yet the idea of sharing my life and insecurities with a stranger was as nerve-wracking to me as public speaking was)

Suddenly, the light bulb went on above me like in those cool old Looney Tune cartoons. Tara may be my solution.

Tara was the best student I'd ever had. She finished with a 99 percent in my English class (the highest mark I had ever given), she was editor of the school newspaper and was Valedictorian (not because she was the most popular, that was our head cheerleader Amber, but because it was based strictly on the highest average). She also was one of the quietest students in high school, yet was a different person when speaking in public. After her brilliant Valedictorian address, I asked her how she shifted personalities so smoothly; she told me a mixture of meditation and hypnosis. I assumed she was kidding, but would soon learn she wasn't.

Her shyness was also enhanced by her very conservative dress, as if the fifties were coming back or had never left. She wore long dresses and her hair was always in a ponytail. She wore no make-up, her glasses were as nerdy as they come and she seldom broke a smile. Although in the same class as my daughter, they were in completely different social orbits. My daughter was way more like her father: outgoing, popular and kind of pretentious, while in many ways Tara was a younger version of myself and I hoped she could share with me how she overcame her fear of public speaking. Yet, when I called her for help, ten months after she had graduated, I barely recognized her.

She graduated at seventeen and at eighteen had already started her second year as a psychology major. I called her up and asked if we could meet for coffee in early December. Although surprised to hear from a former teacher, she agreed and we arranged a meeting at a coffee shop on the weekend.

When she arrived, I didn't recognize her. Her hair was not in a ponytail and it was platinum blonde, with a couple of red streaks. She was wearing a t-shirt that barely held in her firm breasts and she was wearing a black leather skirt, just above the knee, with black pantyhose and four inch pumps. I was staring at her when she said, "It is great to see you Mrs. Hamilton."

I tried to hide my shock at her complete transformation from geek to chic. It was something I had always fantasized about doing when I was a teenage outcast myself.

I stood up and she pulled me in for a long-time-no-see hug. Once done, we sat down and chatted.

After half an hour of catch-up, where I learned she had really come out of her shell through a mixture of hypnosis and meditation, I explained my upcoming predicament and anxiety, although it was still six months away. Once finished, I took a risk and asked, "Is it possible for you to introduce me to whoever helped you?"

She smiled a warm smile and said, "I could do better than that."

"What?" I asked curiously.

"I could work with you." she offered.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I am on the accelerated track and one of the projects I am working on is a research paper that focuses on hypnosis and self-esteem. If you are willing to be my subject, I will do it for free. And of course, your real name will not have to be used in the paper," she explained, giddy with excitement.

The 'free' idea appealed to me as an underpaid teacher, but the thought that someone I knew and trusted and who was like me would be helping me was equally appealing. After only a moment's consideration, I agreed with a smile, "When do we start?"

Her eyes twinkled as she excitedly asked, giddy like the young girl she was, "Really? This is awesome. We can start whenever you want, Mrs. Hamilton."

I corrected, although I hadn't the first time she said it, "It's Miss Bentley."

"What?" she asked surprised.

I shrugged, "The divorce isn't completed yet, but the name change is."

"I'm sorry," she said, taking my hand in hers.

A strange warmth filled me that I couldn't explain. I smiled, "Oh don't be. I still love him as a person, but we fell out of love with each other."

Tara surprised me again when she asked completely out of the blue, "How long since you have had sex?"

I gasped at the question but answered with a joke, feeling comfortable talking to her as a friend and not an ex-student, "I may be a virgin again."

She laughed and asked, going deeper into her interrogation, "How long since you pulled your own trigger?"

"Oh, I don't do that," I answered, realizing instantly how prudish I sounded.

"Oh my God," she gasped before adding, "We will have to change that."

I blushed beet red at the quick shift in our conversation and changed the conversation topic. "Well, if we are going to have a doctor-patient relationship you should call me by my first name, Katherine."

"I don't think I can do that," she said, her thumb doing tiny, gentle circles on the back of my hand in a relaxing way.

"I insist."

"Ok," she agreed.

We finished our drinks and I asked, "So when do you start fixing me?"

"How about now?" she replied, surprising me yet again.

"Sure," I agreed.

"We will need to go to the college."

"Lead the way," I said, standing up and grabbing the cheque.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in a small room with a couch, a stereo system, a TV and a table.

Tara pointed to the couch, "Get comfortable, Katherine."

I looked at the couch. The moment I sat down on it, I felt that I was a patient, something that was still hard to accept for a proud woman like myself. Anxiety, similar to what I would get before public speaking, began to form.

As if sensing my sudden apprehension, Tara said, her voice soothing, "Just close your eyes and relax."

"Ok," I answered nervously, obeying her instructions.

"I need you to trust me, Katherine. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," I admitted, attempting to let go of my anxiety.

"Good," she said, her voice so soft and soothing. "Now before we start, slip out of your heels and let your hair down."

I went to ask why, but decided to trust her and obey. I took my very conservative one inch heels off and pulled my hair out of the bun it was usually in.

"Now release your mind of all your stresses, Katherine."

I tried, but the harder I tried the more I stressed.

I was startled a couple of minutes later when she joined me on the couch at my feet.

I opened my eyes and she smiled, "Sssssh, you are just like I was. You can't just shut down and let go, can you?"

"No," I admitted.

She put my feet on her lap. "Now close your eyes and allow my hands to soothe you."

I again obeyed, my body melting slightly at just being touched, even if it wasn't sexual. Just real human contact weakened me.

She gave a gentle foot massage to my stocking-clad foot, which seemed rather unorthodox and yet I really enjoyed it, as she continued talking, her voice mixed with her tender touch allowing me to shift into a tranquil state. "Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow your mind to leave you and come to me. Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow your body to leave you and come to me. Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow Tara inside your mind. Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow yourself to go and trust utterly the words and wisdom of my voice and touch."

I felt myself slipping away, the dual mixture of her soothing voice and tender touch pulling me into a state of serenity. A place I don't ever recall feeling before. It was like I was there and yet not really there...if that makes any sense.

I continued to hear her voice, but from a detached state of nothingness. The words seemed so agreeable, so simple, that I agreed wholeheartedly to each suggestion, even though seconds later I couldn't recall what I had agreed to. Time became redundant as I became one with the universe. I accepted my faults, agreed they were all changeable and when I awoke I felt like a new woman.

"Remember, Katherine, you will begin to dress with more confidence, show more skin and showcase your body. Wake, Katherine, wake," I heard Tara say as I slowly returned to the land of the living.

I opened my heavy eyes and asked wearily, "How long was I under?"

"Over an hour," she revealed.

"Really?" I asked, feeling it was just a few minutes ago that I had sat down on the couch and yet feeling like I was waking up from a great full night's sleep.

"Really, really," she teased, standing up, sounding her youthful age.

"Wow!" I explained, feeling rejuvenated in a way I can't even begin to explain.

"You feel like you had a twelve hour slumber, don't you?"

I yawned, "Yeah, I feel like a million bucks. It was so cathartic."

"I know," she smiled, "I still allow myself to be put under to feel the sense of equilibrium that goes with it. It is so therapeutic."

"Agreed," I said, standing up and stretching.

"Be warned, we went pretty deep for a first time and I left some small suggestions to get you started on the road to self-confidence."

"Like what?" I asked, greatly curious.

"That is for me to know and you to find out," she answered with a playful smile.


The next day I found myself at the mall and without really thinking about it I ended up in a clothing store. 'I am single and deserve a new wardrobe,' I thought to myself. An hour later, I had five new outfits that made me look and feel younger. They were not slutty by any means, but they definitely were sexier and showcased my body more than my usual conservative school teacher attire.

I began to spend more time on my appearance: my hair, make-up and ensemble. These new outfits made me feel more attractive and, in turn, more confident. At school, I got compliments from students and colleagues who noticed my small transformation. I was suddenly brimming with a confidence I had not had since college.

When I met Tara on Thursday she opened with a compliment. "You look radiant, Katherine."

"Thank you," I replied.

"You are welcome," she offered.

"Did you suggest for me to dress differently?" I asked.

"A magician never reveals her secrets," she smiled, directing me to the couch.

I did as directed. Like last time, Tara joined me and again began giving me a foot massage.

"Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow your mind to leave you and come to me. Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow your body to leave you and come to me. Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow Tara inside your mind. Sleep, Katherine, sleep. Allow yourself to go and trust utterly the words and wisdom of my voice and touch, but this time stay with me...stay with me, Katherine."

I felt myself again transcend reality and enter a realm so different than the stressful world I usually live in, although this time it was different...I lived the conversation but from a transient plane.

Tara asked, her tone so soft and warm, "How did it make you feel to dress up more the past couple of days?"

"At first I was nervous, but once I saw myself in a mirror I was instantly more confident in myself. I felt..." I paused.

Tara pushed, "Felt what?"

After a brief pause, I admitted, "I felt sexy."

"As you are, Katherine," Tara's voice soothingly purred, "Repeat after me. Katherine is sexy."

"Katherine is sexy," I repeated, instantly believing it.

"Katherine is desirable," Tara whispered.

"Katherine is desirable," I agreed.

"Good. Now a few more changes to take you to the next level," Tara said.

"I assume you are wearing pantyhose. Is that correct, Katherine?" Tara asked, as I felt her lift up my dress. Oddly, even though such an act should have been shocking, it seemed natural.

"Yes," I answered, vaguely thinking it was a strange question.

"Do you own a garter belt, Katherine?"

"I think the one from my wedding is still in my drawer."

"Hmmmm, Katherine loves the feel of stockings and thigh high nylons. Katherine will only wear such hosiery starting ASAP. Is that understood, Katherine?"

"Yes, Katherine will go shopping for new hosiery," I agreed, talking in third person.

"Since we are talking about shopping, do you own thongs?"

"Oh my, no," I replied, my conservative nature breaking through.

"Why not?"

"They are for teenagers and...." I paused.

"And what?" Tara asked

"And, and, and...."

Tara added another command. "Katherine will not feel uncomfortable using swear words or sexual innuendo."

"Sluts," I blurted out, feeling the invisible chains of propriety being taken off.

"Good girl," Tara purred.

"Thank you, Miss Tara," I replied, feeling a rush of giddy excitement at having her approval, before realizing I had called her Miss Tara.

"You love wearing thongs. Thongs make you feel sexy and confident," Tara said.

"Katherine loves thongs," I repeated, like an obedient parrot.

The rest of the time, Tara asked me lots of questions about my life, digging deeper into my failed marriage, my lack of a sex life, my childhood and my insecurities.

Waking up, I asked, "Are we done already? No way that was an hour."

"Nope, it was almost two," Tara said.

"No way," I gasped, stretching.

"You made good progress today," Tara said, as she stood up.

I noticed she too wasn't in her heels, her red toenails really standing out in her tan nylons. I asked, "What did you work on with me today?"

She smiled, "We're going to draw out the strong and sexy side of you."

"How will that make me give a speech?" I asked.

"One word: confidence," Tara answered.

"I'm still not following," I said.

"The most important piece to public speaking is confidence. Confidence is built by reclaiming your sexuality," she explained.

"My sexuality?" I asked, still confused.

"I don't mean straight or gay, I mean loving yourself, loving your body," Tara continued.

Thinking of my husband, I sighed, "It's been a long time since I have felt beautiful."

"Katherine," she said, looking into my eyes, "you know you are a beautiful woman, inside and out."

I felt my cheeks get red. Although I was not a lesbian, I couldn't help but feel a rush through my body at the look she gave me. I stammered, "I-I-I'm okay."

"Well, I know what the next session will be," Tara laughed, giving my leg a squeeze, which only enhanced my strange feelings.

"A make over?" I joked.

Tara shook her head, "I have more work to do with you than I thought."

We made another appointment for the following Thursday and I headed out, again feeling rejuvenated.

On the drive home, I again had the urge to shop. 'Since I have new outfits', I rationalized, 'I should probably have new undergarments too'.

An hour later, I had purchased a plethora of new pieces of lingerie and undergarments including a few thongs, three lace bras, a garter-belt and a few pairs of stockings in different colours. I loved the idea of dressing sexy underneath my teacher wardrobe. It was my own small rebellion. I felt sexy again and with it came an unspoken confidence.


The next appointment, I wanted to dress sexy for Tara, to show her that her suggestions had indeed built my confidence. I wore a leather skirt, with my garter and black stockings, three inch heels (which I hadn't worn in years), a thong and lace bra (although I didn't expect her to see it, I liked the idea of wearing it anyway).

When I arrived, I had to wait a few minutes.

When the door opened, a woman in her early fifties, I would guess, walked out. Like me, she was dressed classy-sexy, and smiled as she walked past me.

I watched her walk away, noticing the seams of her stockings as she walked away.

"Good afternoon, Katherine," Tara greeted.

I asked, turning to her, "Do you have a lot of patients?"

"No," she shook her head. "Just three, but I'm hoping to add a couple more soon. I need more data to really prove my theory."

"Do you do a similar therapy for all three?" I asked, giving one more glance back to see the older woman was gone.

She shrugged, "My work is on hypnosis and self-esteem so there are some similarities, yes."

"I see," I said, standing up.

"Oh my, you look amazing, Katherine," Tara complimented me, looking me over from head to toe.

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