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CHOOSE ANOTHER PROFESSION My family was dead set against me becoming a psychologist. Their objection is something that I never understood. I had the qualities to help individuals less endowed deal with the load placed upon their plates. I could make so many lives take the path that would be the easiest route to their declining years. I alone could direct the misguided masses to their correct trajectory. Someone with a knowledge of how to lead the rabble that passes for human intelligence nowadays needs to give direction to those less endowed. I was that person. I was the end-all if only I had my way. Classes at this symposium droned on and on about the helpful nature of this newfound method of hypnosis. I was intrigued. I never assumed hypnosis would net anything worthwhile in all my training, but maybe I was proven incorrect. You could not make any individual do anything that they did not want to do. This exciting aspect flooded my mind. What would individuals not be willing to do? This new method seemed to induce a deeper trance much quicker than the traditional known methods. Due to the time constraints, hypnosis was something that I did not practice much. The billable time needed to achieve results did not give the "client" a progression known to them. A semi-conscious patient would not know how their money was spent. While a conscious client (They do not like the term patient) can get behind the vast knowledge, you bring to their particular situation. The continued deference paid to me by bewildered clients is justified. The ease with which I helped my clients proved my family's reservations completely baseless. Tried and true little tricks brought my clients' quick improvements. When dealing with a young child, for example, sometimes they will not communicate. Faking sleep will most assuredly cause the child to open up. They can't deal with being ignored. Unfortunately, I did fall asleep while trying to bring a young client out of their shell. I woke up with him shaking me vigorously. Fortunately, it was still within his billable session. If his parents had come inside at the scheduled time and found me asleep, I would not have been able to charge my time. I am of the behaviorist persuasion. The whys and reasons, "the root of the cause," usually do not matter. Behavior modification is what my practice is after. A client conducting themselves "normally" will eventually adjust to the new normal. Digging into the past can't help since people are who they are. People that have wronged clients in the past simply continue to do so. It is what they are. The client that has something wrong with themselves still will have whatever issue involved with which to contend. What I do is give them a coping mechanism. Life is learning to cope. People do just get jammed up with aspects of their lives and need to know how to manage. This is where I excel. A plethora of mostly non-dangerous individuals has left my guidance with the necessary knowledge to cope with their humdrum lives. My practice is growing leaps and bounds. I, Hawthorn R Jenkins, have become noteworthy in my field. Other practices send patients my way. Their methods would prove unsatisfactory. Developed strategies, my own derived solutions have netted me the reputation of helping hard cases. In fewer sessions than most practices warrant, my clients achieve the ability to function on a higher level. They can go on their way and finish healing independently or partake of a few more sessions for their peace of mind. Rising to the top echelon of my field in such short order leaves me hollow inside. The shock when a new client sees me for the first time is the only hurdle that still challenges me in any way. I know that I can help anyone, anytime, with any issue. When a new client has built up an expectation of a learned psychologist, it is quite shocking to have someone so young sitting behind the desk. Sometimes they even back up and study the plate on the door. In short order, I put them at ease, and we progress quickly to the problem at hand. This awkward first meeting was the catalyst for developing my bag of tricks. You needed your customer to stay to be able to bill them. The handicap of my looks not fitting the preconceived notion of a Dr of Psychology necessitated methods to overcome anomalies in peoples' expectations. Surmounting these issues, I quickly surmised many ways to get at solutions to peoples' problems. The speed at which behavior was modified had been a concern at first. A client that overcomes their issues quickly pays a whole lot less in the long run. My ego would not let me "milk" clients. They came to me for help, and I would take the shortest path to recovery. My methods and ego-driven cures netted me a reputation very quickly. My approach translated into a booming business. Help people and receive accolades and respectability. People generally didn't like me, but everyone respected me. Due to my age, I walked around with a haughty expression. I knew that I was overcompensating for my youth. I wish I could have overcome this immature display. I was in a strange position due to my inordinate success. Older professionals were threatened or jealous; psychologists of my era struggled to try to get their practices off the ground. This left me with no professional colleagues at my level. I was an anomaly. I tried to take on hobbies; crafts, even rock climbing. Everything was fun, but could not keep my attention. This new form of hypnotism was a possible answer to my keen mind discovering something beyond everyday successes. Having come to the end of the knowledge necessary to succeed at my chosen path, I needed a new challenge. This hypnotism might be life-changing. CHAPTER TWO Sign me up. Paying the exuberate fee online, I expected a crowded class on the ins and outs of this new method. What I received was an invitation for a one on one introduction with a provided subject. The developer of this hypnosis was an uneducated layman. No polished edges but had an innate understanding of the task at hand. Incredibly, once he imparted to you his knowledge and expertise, you could perform the necessary process at will. Understanding the proficiency that his method encapsulated made the next leg a little scary. He did not want his discoveries out there for just anyone. I had signed a nondisclosure agreement to that end. Clearly stated in the deal that I signed when I rendered payment was permission to "put me under." The stated reason was to ensure capitulation to the nondisclosure agreement. You do feel calm and relaxed when you come out of a trance. He wrote some notes in a little black leatherbound journal and bid me a good day. The back of my mind did have some doubts about what may have transpired while I was out. However, I now possessed a powerful tool to help my clients. The discoveries that I hoped to uncover was my new found reason for enjoying my existence once again. Confident that I could help my patients, I discovered tidbits that would entertain my intelligence. A typical session would start, and then, with the subject's consent, they would be exposed to my newfound power. The guarded answers that I read between the lines to understand were now laid open plain as day. The session preceding the hypnosis was discovering the "tell" as to where to explore. This is leaps and bounds groundbreaking access to the psyche. Not only can I help these individuals so much quicker maybe I can make them happier, more rounded contributors to society. The following months created a whole new knowledge base from which I could draw. This was fascinating. Almost every individual has a pent-up desire to act out a scenario, for lack of a better term. Some if not all of this inaction affected their present condition. What would be the net result if I released them to perform their most profound desire? The new hypnosis technique did bring my practice much closer to why there was a problem. However, the underlying actual "hangup" could largely be ignored by redirecting the client towards a positive experience. Once individuals become occupied with their passion, their behavior away from the negative is more comfortable. Behavior modification became child's play. The challenge was two-fold. Some of these desires were not strictly considered normal. And some of these desires could be illegal or damaging to someone's reputation. If to release the inhibition would cause damage, the exercise would be mute. Armed as I was, these actions give a set of rules that would negate the negative consequences. People living their lives enjoying themselves, not following what everyone else thinks to remain in the "normal" category. Would this be a bad thing? I think not. My current client is a beautiful female that, for some reason, has a thing for mud. Her treatment netted her signing up, under an alias, to mud wrestle at a local establishment. Her husband was not pleased until that night. Watching her struggle in the slippery substance being simultaneously smothered in what looked to be cool slimy earth was something that transfixed his soul. She had the ultimate coping mechanism, and their love life sored to new heights. My ticket was pro, Bono. I can add that this would have been an excellent hobby with which to partake. I do believe that my attention could be held by watching this display over and over. My client and her opponent step into the "arena," both of their nipples constricting to the cold mud. The gray substance covers their feet and ankles. The tension rising as music appropriate to the festivities blares, adding to the charge in the atmosphere that the lights are dancing everywhere and the contestants in place have created. Two beautiful women about to engage in a struggle to pin the other down in a gelatinous mass of gray clay, psychology can be fun. These tone women submerge themselves in mother nature, slowly becoming monotone mud creatures with the lights bouncing in every direction of this slick wet substance. It is so good to help those in need. I can't explain any further. The wrestling has reached a unique crescendo that my mind has reached an impasse. Her husband is in for quite a night. I might be envious. Thankfully I can blame that on the alcohol that I've consumed this evening. Only small people exhibit jealousy. Only three sessions in, and my little mud wrestler can cope with almost anything. Two thank you letters come for the help received by this formally troubled individual. This has cut my session time by half. Releasing many more clients to fulfill their desires in a guarded and acceptable way had very similar results. On three revelations, I need to involve significant others that would need to be "put under" to ascertain the appropriate release of somewhat bizarre inclinations. Two of these couples ended up enjoying each other's; fetishes. Unfortunately, the last couple would not benefit from my newfound power. I failed to offer something his wife will accept. I reverted to my old tried and true methods. He left my office with a lesser coping mechanism. I can help anyone. Even this last couple had sent a letter of appreciation. They claimed that after seeing many professionals, I was the only turning point to a better existence. My newfound tool did take me to the edge of perceived genius. Fellow professionals had to put their jealousy aside. My reputation now demanded it. Awards and news reports add to my notoriety. Now several of my competitors sought to gain association with me and my noted practice. I was on top. Everything was headed to a great future. I was the golden child. CHAPTER THREE Santiago Escabar, this is a young man that needs my help. Surprisingly Santiago did not act adversely to my youth. He seemed relieved. Santiago has been in trouble with the law in Mexico and now in the US. The file read that he was prone to narcissism and violent outbreaks. His dossier did not leave a whole lot of knowledge on the table. He was fluent in Spanish and English; I would at least be able to communicate with half of his memories. I began his session probing for his triggers. Nothing, he is withdrawn. It became clear that he is not going to cooperate. I tried another tactic, girls. Since he didn't want to talk about his issues, I would start him talking. Young men usually would begin talking about girls. Sports would do, but I knew nothing about soccer, so that left me with girls. "Since you don't want to talk about what is bothering you, let me ask you something that I've always wondered about." He didn't speak but indicated with a head shake that I should ask. He was tired of the silent chess game that he had started. "When I was young, there was not much difference between boys and girls, but today it's night and day. What is it like growing up in this better environment." The smile that crept across his face indicated I was on the right track. The look in his eyes informed me he was thinking of a girl in particular. "Tell me about this girl you have on your mind." He started to withdraw again. "Come on, let an older guy live vicariously through you." Something within caused his guard to come down. He needed to share with someone the beauty that he had discovered. He started talking in intricate detail about a girl named Denise. The description was very detailed. He almost painted a mental picture of what must be a beautiful young woman. When I asked him what her most attractive feature was, he shocked me. "I love the way she is crippled with it." I have always been able to keep my face neutral in the past. It is part of the safe environment created to be an effective therapist. When you betray the illusion that must always be, the damage to the therapy can be irreversible. Trust will be lost in an instant. I might be an arrogant SOB, but the client's needs are paramount. I'm on shaky ground right now. Here is a new trick. If it works, I'll add it to my bag. I apologize profusely and as honestly as I can. His comment shocked me, and judgment was evident on my face. A rookie mistake, one that until now I've never made before, even as a newbie just starting my practice. His rigid tense posture relaxed, and I asked him to elaborate. He explained to me that this girl, on the cusp of womanhood, had developed in such a way that her feminity slightly handicapped her. Her naturally occurring body's shape and curves precluded her from any movement that was not extremely feminine. Even if she were a tomboy, no one would ever see anything but the most extreme girly girl. A victim of her hormones, this is what turned on this young man. A misunderstanding was tripping me up. It was an interesting take on his attraction, but no fault will be found in his logic. Indeed, this was a much better scenario than what I initially thought. However, he got that strange look in his eyes that I have seen a thousand times. Paydirt, his tell is revealed. Being a minor, his guardian had permitted to "treat as necessary." Santiago was soon in a deep trance. I knew where to look. I knew it revolved around Denise. What I didn't realize was the unexpected turn that shortly is revealed. "Tell me about this girl Santiago." He proceeded just as he did while he was fully conscious. The same description word for word nothing had changed. He went on to talk about the outfits that she wears. How other girls wearing similar or the same clothes could never have the same effect. The way that she glided through life on a different plane as if in a fog of estrogen that others could not match. I was getting nowhere. Typically, I would have already rooted out the snag that was this patient's bane. Once I discovered it, appropriate healing will be prescribed. The tools that I had were failing me. The tool that I just discovered would shake my world. Honesty, I'll try that again. I don't do this often, but I paused for a little booster--Glenfiddich, 12 years, in my lowest drawer, a quick shot, my client would never know he is under. "You have given this girl a lot of thought. Even have committed her form to memory. What is it that you are not telling me?" The answer was so obvious once he responded. Honesty did work in the long run, but there was a log pause before Santiago answered. "He wanted to be Denise." The long-awaited response to what his tell had revealed itself to me. I took my bottle out of the bottom drawer. I watched as relief washed over this young man's face. Two shots later, I prompted my young charge to describe the changes he would wish for himself in great detail. That was an excellent first session. I believe the root problem for my client, "acting up," has been revealed. His escort arrived and already noticed a change in Santiago's demeanor. I will need to think about his course. In the next session, I will need to determine if there are any other underlying issues. If not, what attachments he has and what would be best for him, "her?" CHAPTER FOUR Santiago is cleared for take-off. He wants to be a girl disabled with extreme femininity. Today's plastic surgery and methods of delivering hormones would be of great importance. Santiago had no romantic ties, no siblings, and seems that his parents are deceased. He was a ward of his uncle in Mexico. There was no reason to impede this young man from his deepest desire. Under a strong trance, yet again, I encouraged Santiago to take corrective measures. The relief on his face was so evident that I could have sworn that I saw a different person. I knew that this was the right course of action. When he came out of his trance, Santiago informed me that he wanted to start gender reassignment. I congratulated him on his brave decision to make his life better. The smile almost gave a hint to the girl he would begin to become. The next session revealed a very different individual. Santiago was still dressing male but already had been to see the surgeon and had bilateral orchiectomy. Pellets of estrogen inserted in his hips, and his skin was already showing evidence of this change. The part that scared Santiago was if he could not achieve the extreme femininity that he desired. It would not be enough to become a woman. He wanted to become an extremely feminine woman. That was his deepest desire. I can tell you he was on his way. Already, I could detect the woman that he would eventually become. In our sessions, I warned him of the pain and tribulations that he would face. His only concern was always if he could achieve a body like Denise's. As time wore on, Santiago started blossoming into a very sexy girl. He began to approach the "crippling" effect, and now I could see his point. There is something to a woman that had no choice but to display the most feminine existence. This would not be a fake display for flirtatious intentions. It would be a side effect of the person's form. In this case, it was my job to sign off on sexual reassignment surgery. He was already presenting as the well-endowed female to the point of his version of crippled by femininity. Sign off, I did. His new outlook made him so very happy. He jumped off the chair and ran around my desk, and hugged the stuffing out of me. Another satisfied soul that I could claim to have helped. My proclamation saddened Santiago that he is now healed. "She is now healed," Santigo admonishes me. No longer does "she" need to come for sessions. The removal of the incorrect coping mechanism replaced by his true desires filled nullified all of the hostile activity that netted him seeking counseling in the first place. I was glad we finished. This new Santiago, now Samantha, was starting to have an unwholesome draw on me. The sanctity of the doctor-patient relationship is always maintained Samantha was delighted with all that had transpired. She had everything that she ever wanted. I don't understand when she has a concerned look on her face and proclaimed that she was so very sorry. I escorted her to the door and was about to say something to her, and I'm grabbed. This time she had two or three escorts show up to claim her. A cloth placed over my face, and strong hands hold me immobile until the ether takes effect. Watching Samantha's face the whole time I tried to gather a clue as to what was happening. No clues were forthcoming. Then before I lost consciousness, she said, "her real name was Santiago Escobar." And although I had made her extremely happy, her uncle was not. My eyes went wide right before I lost consciousness. CHAPTER FIVE Waking up in God knows where I was in a cell of sorts. The last memories came flooding back to me. An aching in my groin led me to explore my nether regions. I am castrated. Cuffed to a surgical table, immobilized at three points, I can only figure they left my one hand free to discover that I no longer possessed my family jewels. I had helped Escobar's nephew deal so much better with his life, and now I was going to be punished for it. Someone walked in and started taking vitals. When I moved my free hand towards what should have been my testicles, they proceeded to lock my free hand into the fourth point. "Don't worry, and you will turn out at least as good as Samantha." I wanted to scream that I didn't want that, but I am gaged--my capacity to hypnotize anyone negated. The nurse claimed that a tattoo artist was on her way to make me beautiful. I was scared, cold, and in shock. When she arrived, it took her nearly twenty minutes before she started. Once she started, I was in for the long haul. Starting with eyeliner, I soon was sporting a most expertly done eyeliner in a cat fashion. Lips were next, and hopelessness engulfed me. While clinically withdrawn, the tattoo artist stated that she had new longer-lasting inks and would do my eyelids. Now castrated and having full tattoed makeup, I waited for the next round of humiliation. Pablo Escobar now stood over me. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. I tried to communicate through my gag that I helped his nephew. Pablo said something in Spanish. A doctor came in and removed my gag after he gave me a shot in the throat. "I've met your hypnotist instructor. Impressive man, courageous." Pablo was not able to extract his method of hypnotism from him. He did find that his approach was impossible if the hypnotist's voice was high pitched and squeaky. Pablo let this information hang in the air. "The man could have saved himself a lot of pain and a gruesome death if he just realized I could just as easily get the information from you." I started shaking my head back and forth, saying "No, no, no," and then nothing came out. Instruments are sent down my gullet to change my vocal cords. Since puberty, my voice that I had all of my life lets me know that I have no control over my future. Mini mouse has a much more developed speaking voice than I now possess. I will experience everything from now on. Locals will be used, numbed nerves would feel every surgery as they progress in short order. The doctor returns giveing me a shot in the lips. Enhanced proportions were now a part of my face. My gag is sealed around puffed up lips looking every bit ready for a "paying customer." I'm being brought to of all places a tanning bed. My skin will eventually resemble the Mexican population that I now find myself surrounded by. Once the required time lapses, I am brought back to my "room." Three people were waiting for me. Encouraged to lie down on the central table I can see substantial breast enhancements waiting to be inserted. Out of my site were hip and butt implants that were soon to be sewn into my existence. The locals were delivered, and I was soon to be the owner of several implants that would by themselves bring me to the edge of being "crippled by my feminine form." The new additions to my existence mandated a feminine movement. Although I did not resemble Denise yet, I was on my way. Pablo started to appreciate his nephew's take on the peculiar slant he had envisioned towards the species' female. As the hormones had their effect and the surgeries already had been realized. I was becoming a very sexy, desirable female. Pablo demanded my presence. Now, the horrible gag is not in my mouth. I sought to reason with Pablo. He needed to know that I wasn't aware that Santiago was his nephew. That although my body now resembled a beautiful female, I don't expect to act on it. And that his nephew was thrilled. I had helped him realize his dream. "Any idiot would have seen straight away that my nephew had only slightly changed his name as a warning. It even sounds the same." He explained, and maybe I want what I was now undergoing as I am not a simpleton. I must know Pablo's eye for an eye, tit for tat philosophy. His reputation must have reached even me, sitting in my lofty practice. He went on to observe that we had much in common. People didn't like him much either, and everyone did respect him. "You know, when you went missing, no one seemed to care." He didn't believe that anyone was even looking for me. Now, they wouldn't recognize you even if they were fuc**** you." He only wished that my voice could have had a sultry feminine stint instead of the ridiculous squeaky voice that made me talk as little as possible. Tomorrow I will be getting my SRS. Looking in the mirror, I don't see what difference it will make at this point. He did give me the option to be put under or have the local. My looks must be having a softening effect on this gangster. I have heard that sometimes people simply never wake up if the anesthesia is administered incorrectly. I accept his offer to be put under. This had a price. Pablo said, "I never sought out a beautiful woman that wasn't natural. Seeing you all decked out as you are, the advantages seem unsurmountable. My poor nephew stuck as a slut, and now you are also. I know he is happy. Let's see if you can also be." Pablo extended his hand and led me to his private chamber. Throwing me on his bed, I was at a loss as to what I should do. Death was logically preferable. Torture is not. I could not hypnotize Pablo, but my bag of tricks may be deployed. I had helped hundreds of individuals of lesser intelligence. Pablo should be easy. My new voice failed me. My new form was quickly becoming very close to Samantha's "crippled" notion and now a voice that put that vision over the top if you could overcome the annoying quality to it. These worked together to scream, "take this slut." And Pablo intended to. Sitting on the edge of the bed, my eyes wide with fear, causing Pablo to be turned on all that much more. "Take off your top, leave your bra on for now," he demanded. Looking down, I beheld my tanned legs encased by expensive sheer stockings with the skirt ridding above their tops. My penis twitched as the low light created a glow at the top of my legs. Tomorrow I would not have my penis. My illusion will be complete. How could I escape tonight? I needed to convince Pablo this is the life I wanted and hope for an opportunity. I started concentrating on every feminine feeling that has become part of my life. The heels and stockings are encasing my new form; a short skirt is wrapping my enhanced rear, bra holding large breasts pulling in ways that taunt that I am female. The makeup and perfume that I am wearing. Long nails and hair extensions professionally attached all add to my mindset to perform as a real woman. My plump lips are soon wrapped around Pablo's man meat. My eyes took in huge pink lips folding back on themselves as my manicured nails shook in one spot, adding to his experience. My overly coated eyelashes now engulfed my peripheral vision. The silky skin of this otherwise rugged man slid softly across my enhanced lips. He placed his hands on my head, running fingers through the hair extensions on my head. Suddenly he withdrew and slapped me hard. He was in a rage. Calling out to someone in the hall, he shouted directions in Spanish. They entered the room with shackles in their hands and quickly bound me. Leading me back to my cell, I heard Pablo shouting some profanities in Spanish. I had no idea what set him off, but this was not good. CHAPTER SIX Alone in my cell, my shackles still in place, I have no idea what to do next. My body is beyond feminine now. My voice is ridiculous. In this fake body, no one will ever take me seriously. Tomorrow my existence will be one hundred percent female. Even my clinically insane customers have never been subjected to anything like this. Nothing left to do, I do the most female act imaginable, I cry. "Samantha, what are you doing here?" At my darkest hour, Samantha has come to try and repay the kindness I have shown her. Keys and freedom? God, she is sexy. I'm free of the shackles and the cell, but we need to wait for several hours. Samantha suddenly wraps me into an embrace and kisses me passionately. "Wait, wait, what about doctor-patient protocol?" Holding me, she said she doesn't see a doctor here any longer, just a sexy woman with something extra. She was intent on seeing if I could still perform. Oh, God, yes, I could perform. I have wanted this young transexual almost from the onset of her dressing as a complete female. My status as a leader in my field was the only thing that I would not risk. Now, I didn't know what I was, but a psychologist would no longer be my calling with this voice and my young age. Slowing me down, she had me perform cunningly treatments to her neglected "vagina." The doctors had done an excellent job. She enjoyed my efforts. The nerve endings have been correctly handled. The sound of her appreciation left me with hope also that I to would receive similar advantages if I was to lose my best friend. She indicated that she wanted to try the tube steak boogie as the song goes. Since this would be my last chance, I certainly wanted a go. The angels sang. I could not imagine not being able to perform this task ever again. Sliding in and out of her pseudo vagina didn't feel any different than any of my past girlfriends. The main difference is that she is so much more attractive. And my breasts were waving with each thrust. I knew that I didn't even resemble a man anymore, but man, that felt so good. I might look the perfect female, but my libido for the ideal looking woman was still alive and well. They must have accomplished this with whatever drugs they were feeding me. Come to think of it; my penis had not shrunk. When I was not in abject fear, I still had erections. My education was mostly in psychology, but even if I had some biology background, I don't think I would know how they could pump you full of estrogen and still maintain size and function. The time to escape was at hand. Walking me with stealth into the hallway, everything was looking up. I was soon to be on my way to freedom. I will figure out what to do about my new form after I attain freedom. I still have part of my male anatomy. The rest will hopefully be reversible. I was turning the last corner. Pablo was waiting at the exit. Three goons close in behind. We are trapped. I feel so bad for Samantha. I have caused her great danger. Confusion suddenly overtakes me as she dashed to her uncle and hugged him. Pablo asked her, "Are you happy with your new toy?" The look on Samantha's face said everything that her uncle wanted to know. She turned to Hawthorn, and the look was of superior existence. "Yes, she is everything that I want." "Put her back in her cell, uncle, until she learns her place. I like my toys obedient. How are the others coming along?" He indicated that they were coming along nicely. The PA that she insisted upon will be ready at the end of the week. He wanted to know if she was sure if the SRS was what she wanted for that young man. "Yes, she wanted someone to occupy the other toys if she was busy." Pablo was impressed with his niece. She did think of everything. She would be a suitable replacement when he retires.