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My Saturday afternoon is disrupted by a ring of the doorbell. Reluctantly, I go and answer it, only to find the familiar, chipper face of my daughter's best friend home from college for the weekend. "Sorry, Stacey. Natalie's not here." She looks a bit disappointed. "Shoot, I really need some help with a school project." She then perks right back up and asks, "Maybe you can help, Mr. Johnson!" "Look, Stacey. I've got a lot to get to today. I don't really have time." I try to shoo her away by slowly closing the door. "Pleeeeease, Mr. Johnson. I need a volunteer and no one's home at my house." Lucky them, I think. "It's super simple. It's for my Psych class and I just need to do a quick session of hypno-therapy and track the results. It won't take more than an hour tops. Pleeeease..." I am unfortunately, too big a softie to really say no and so I let her. We go to the living room with me in my recliner and her on the nearby loveseat. Apparently, she needs to practice some kind of behavior modification. But the only really bad habit I have is my foul language, which she assures me that it's perfect. She has me lay back and close my eyes, making me count back mentally from hundred, then imagine a big bubble, then focus on relaxing my muscles. Wherever she's getting this stuff I don't know, but it's pretty hokey if you ask me. She presses on though and my mind begins to wander, thinking about my recent fishing trip and how great it felt to haul in that bluefin tuna. Just as the fish hits the deck of the boat, I hear Stacey's voice counting up, "1. Gently stirring now, 2. Becoming more aware of your surroundings and 3. Wide awake, fully alert." I open my eyes and look over to Stacey in the same spot as before. "Is that it?" She nods. "Yep! That's it for the session. Now all that's left is testing out the behavior. Can you curse for me, Mr. Johnson?" It feels a bit silly to just start cursing and tell her as such. She nods, thinking for a moment, before blurting out, "Last summer, I was the one who swiped that bottle of vodka from the cabinet, not Natalie." My blood boils for a moment and I yell, "Are you f...f...fucking kidding me? Son of a b...b...bitch." I'm absolutely gobsmacked at my sudden hesitation as I try to curse. I can still do it, but there's this little roadblock in my mind, making it harder to get the words out than usual. Stacey looks both stunned and ecstatic "Omigosh. That really worked, didn't it?" She's beaming with pride at her accomplishment. "I'm gonna get an A on this project for sure." She practically skips out of the house, so happy and excited.

Over the course of the week, I keep finding myself hitting a slight delay anytime my anger flares and I want to curse. And it's noticeable, to family, friends, and coworkers. Between their laughter and my own growing frustration, something needs to be done. I have Natalie reach out to Stacey, insisting that she come back and fix all this! Luckily, she promises to come back over the weekend to take care of things. And so, a week later, I once again find myself in a recliner and Stacey in a semi-professional, if not a bit short, green dress, perched on the arm rest of the love seat. "Relax, Mr. Johnson. We're going to take care of this, I promise. I just need to have another session and it'll be fine." Needless to say, I'm a bit skeptical, but I'm also anxious to get this resolved. "It might take a little bit longer this time, but don't worry, that's all part of the process." And so, we go through the same things: counting back, the big bubble, relax the muscles. And I find myself out to sea again, fishing just like last time. At least that's how it starts. At a certain point, I'm not entire how or why, my thoughts turn away from fish to fucking. First it's with my wife, from our honeymoon. Then it's my old celebrity crush, Lea Thompson. And then there's a brief moment when Stacey's there, butt-naked and joining in. It's bewildering, but also feels incredibly real, incredibly good. And just as I'm about to cum, there's Stacey's voice, "1. Gently stirring now, 2. Becoming more aware of your surroundings and 3. Wide awake, fully alert." I open my eyes and am immediately embarrassed to realize that my cock is fully erect, though I'm hoping that Stacey won't have any reason to notice. She looks intently at me and asks, "How do you feel?" Not wanting to answer with 'aroused and horny' I manage to say, "I feel good. Yeah. Good." Trying to redirect the conversation I ask, "So were you able to fix things?" Stacey, suddenly looks down. "Well, about that. You see, Mr. Johnson, you seem to be what we call, 'highly suggestible' and I wasn't entirely sure how to undo the previous suggestion I gave you, so I just gave you a new suggestion instead." I can feel the heat rising in my face. "New suggestion? What does that mean?" Stacey doesn't answer and keeps her head down. "Stacey! What does that... BOOPin' mean?" Boop? Why did I just say boop? What the boop? Boop! Why can't I say anything other than boop when I want to curse?!?! Worse, why is my face flushing so hard and my cock throbbing every time I say or think the word? Stacey's head rises, and there's a bit of an impish grin on her face. "Who knew you'd be so suggestible? So, I gave you a new word to use whenever you need to curse. But that's not quite all. You've always been so fun to tease Mr. Johnson, but all that anger isn't good for you. So, I changed that too. Anger isn't nearly as fun as arousal. Let's try it out!" "Boop you!" she says gleefully and a wave of pleasure and arousal washes over me. "Boop your limits!" she continues on and all I can do is grunt in response the sudden sensations coursing through my body and my cock. She leans in a bit closer and says quietly, "Get so boop-ing aroused for me, right now!"

My Saturday afternoon is disrupted by a ring of the doorbell. Reluctantly, I go and answer it, only to find the familiar, chipper face of my daughter's best friend home from college for the weekend. "Sorry, Stacey. Natalie's not here." She looks a bit disappointed. "Shoot, I really need some help with a school project." She then perks right back up and asks, "Maybe you can help, Mr. Johnson!" "Look, Stacey. I've got a lot to get to today. I don't really have time." I try to shoo her away by slowly closing the door. "Pleeeeease, Mr. Johnson. I need a volunteer and no one's home at my house." Lucky them, I think. "It's super simple. It's for my Psych class and I just need to do a quick session of hypno-therapy and track the results. It won't take more than an hour tops. Pleeeease..." I am unfortunately, too big a softie to really say no and so I let her. We go to the living room with me in my recliner and her on the nearby loveseat. Apparently, she needs to practice some kind of behavior modification. But the only really bad habit I have is my foul language, which she assures me that it's perfect. She has me lay back and close my eyes, making me count back mentally from hundred, then imagine a big bubble, then focus on relaxing my muscles. Wherever she's getting this stuff I don't know, but it's pretty hokey if you ask me. She presses on though and my mind begins to wander, thinking about my recent fishing trip and how great it felt to haul in that bluefin tuna. Just as the fish hits the deck of the boat, I hear Stacey's voice counting up, "1. Gently stirring now, 2. Becoming more aware of your surroundings and 3. Wide awake, fully alert." I open my eyes and look over to Stacey in the same spot as before. "Is that it?" She nods. "Yep! That's it for the session. Now all that's left is testing out the behavior. Can you curse for me, Mr. Johnson?" It feels a bit silly to just start cursing and tell her as such. She nods, thinking for a moment, before blurting out, "Last summer, I was the one who swiped that bottle of vodka from the cabinet, not Natalie." My blood boils for a moment and I yell, "Are you f...f...fucking kidding me? Son of a b...b...bitch." I'm absolutely gobsmacked at my sudden hesitation as I try to curse. I can still do it, but there's this little roadblock in my mind, making it harder to get the words out than usual. Stacey looks both stunned and ecstatic "Omigosh. That really worked, didn't it?" She's beaming with pride at her accomplishment. "I'm gonna get an A on this project for sure." She practically skips out of the house, so happy and excited.