Breast Intentions: Therapy

by cheesecakeconcentrate

Tags: #comic_book #dom:female #f/m #femdom_hypnosis #sub:male #titnosis #boobnosis #gentle_femdom #hypnotits

Helena Haiden is a hypnotherapist who sees the best in everyone. She is also extremely busty, but this has nothing to do with her practice. When a client’s life is falling apart, how can she repair his wounded, anxious mind?

Helena Haiden just wanted to help, and she believed that, at their core, people had a capacity for good.

She had always thought that bad situations in life came from when people were afraid. They got defensive, they lashed out, they hurt people because they felt nervous and unsafe. And they could hurt themselves. They could turn against themselves and suffer.

So she became a therapist to help people with their problems. She went to school to learn to help people relax, and found that through hypnotherapy, she could help people find calm, learn to feel safe, to manage their emotions. To learn to feel love and compassion. So they could express the good that they had inside.

And Helena was good at it. Client after client would come to her, depressed, life completely out of order, feeling unloved. And she taught them to find the little joys, focus on compassion, and turn themselves around.

She felt so good, helping. She threw herself into her work because it felt so good to get people to relax, to no longer be a danger to themselves or to others. She never felt better than when she had taken a client who was spinning on themselves, self-destructive, and helped them calm down. The more dramatic the change, the better she felt. It made her feel powerful, even heroic. Just thinking about helping a client by dropping them deep into trance, where they could float away into relaxation and sort out their problems, would almost get her turned on.

Of course, she was completely professional, and while she cared for her clients deeply, she maintained a clinical detachment, honoring their privacy and making sure that they were insulated from how much satisfaction, even pleasure, she got out of her work.

While she was comparatively short and had an unassuming demeanor, Helena had a teddy-bear shaped figure, with broad hips, soft thighs, a comparatively slim belly, and enormous full breasts. But Helena was a modest woman, despite her curves, and tried her best to not draw attention to her body.

Her breasts would have become the focus of most people’s attention, but she did not want them to dominate every conversation, so she took steps to draw attention away from them. She could barely find sports bras that could contain them, and it took two to keep her bosoms held down enough that they weren’t distracting. So she wore loose-fitting tops over two sports bras, and did her best to look amorphously soft and professional rather than extremely buxom.

She did this to keep the focus on her work, which was the most important thing. Therapy was not about her, but about helping her clients find peace.

Neil Zimmer came to Helena’s office, visibly deflated. His life felt deeply wrong, he had lost all of his confidence, and he felt unlovable. His anxiety was crippling, and he had lost the ability to connect with people or feel joy. He had often contemplated suicide. He felt alone and broken.

In their first session, Helena told him that she would induce a light trance to help him relax, so that he could tell her about his problems more freely. She set a mechanical metronome to start ticking, and pulled out a pocket watch from behind her desk.

“Is this going to work? A pocket watch, really?”

“I’m a hypnotist, Neil, and I find that communicating this unambiguously helps set expectations. I want my patients to understand how to react, so they can safely give themselves over to trance. You know what happens when a hypnotist asks you to listen to the ticking metronome, and shows you their shiny pocket watch, swinging back and forth, don’t you?”

“I’ll be hypnotized?”

“That’s right, Neil. When your hypnotist shows you her pocket watch, you’ll slip into hypnosis.”

She continued, in her sing-song-y practiced hypnotist voice. “You’re listening to the sound of my voice, doing so well for me. You can give yourself permission to slip… into… hypnosis. This is what happens when your hypnotist shows you her pocket watch. Follow my voice and sleep for me now.”

He seemed satisfied with this explanation, and his shoulders slumped a bit. His gaze went soft as he stared at her pocket watch and followed her voice. Soon his whole body went limp, and his eyes closed. But he was still so depressed, she could tell. He was entranced but deeply sad.

She asked him to tell her about his problems, hoping to find out what he really needed in his life. He felt unlovable. He yearned for validation, to feel appreciated by women. He wanted to be a good man, but he felt worthless.

Perhaps she could help him. If she could get him to love himself, then he could turn his life around and find success in love too. While he was in trance, she talked to him about compassion, and how he could devote himself to others, and learn compassion for himself along the way.

Their time was almost up. Before the end of their session, she reminded him.

“Neil, when your hypnotist shows you her pocket watch, you slip into hypnosis. When your hypnotist shows you her pocket watch, you slip into hypnosis. Say it for me now. What do you do when your hypnotist shows you her pocket watch?”

“When my hypnotist shows me her pocket watch, I slip into hypnosis.”

“Very good Neil. You’re doing so well.”

She woke him up gently.

“… and five. Wide awake, feeling much better, ready to face the world.”

He sat up from the couch, and for the first time in a long time, Neil smiled a genuine smile.

“I feel… actually better. Thank you so much, doctor.”

“Same time, next week?”

She felt phenomenal. She had helped. She sent him on his way, and as soon as he was out the door, permitted herself to wriggle with happiness. She would have to wait until she got home for more celebration.

The following week, Neil came back, still clearly depressed, but eager to start his session. He slipped back into trance for her quickly, already conditioned to accept that her voice and her pocket watch would put him under. They were making great progress.

“What do you do when your hypnotist shows you her pocket watch, Neil?”

“When my hypnotist shows me her pocket watch, I slip into hypnosis.”


She had him talk more about what he needed, deep in his mind.

“Boooooobies…” he intoned, wistfully.

He had told her, under hypnosis, about his deep fixation on big breasts, his yearning for busty, nurturing women, and how his marriage had fallen apart in the last year. How he felt his mother considered him a failure, and he how yearned for the attention of busty women.

As far as Helena could tell, and he was under hypnosis, he was not particularly talking about her. But she considered the situation.

She shouldn’t. This would be completely unprofessional. She should help him work through his problems just like she had done for so many clients before.


He was hypnotized right now. She could make him forget.

Let’s try this. This might help. Maybe this is what he needs.

“We’re going to try something a little unusual, Neil. You will not remember this when you wake up. Understand?”

She made him sleep briefly, and pulled her baggy cable-knit sweater over her head. She was wearing a camisole tank top over two sports bras. She paused for a moment and pulled off the cami as well.

When she woke him from his slumber, his hypnotized, droopy eyes immediately went wide, locking on to her deep cleavage in her tight sports bras.

“Your booooobs…”

“Look right here, Neil. You will not remember this, but look here into my cleavage. My cleavage will help you slip even deeper into hypnosis.”

For the first time, she saw a big smile cross his face. A dreamy smile, vivid happiness. Memories tumbled out, and his hopes, ambitions, dreams.

She was helping. She felt so good, so warm. Radiant. She could work with this. She directed his entranced eyes back and forth between her breasts, across her cleavage over and over again, and helped him feel warmth and compassion for himself and for everyone in his life.

Back and forth, he looked to her left breast and to her right, helping him reach a depth of trance, and internal healing, reprocessing his memories, that she would normally take months to achieve.

“What do you do when your hypnotist shows you her breasts, Neil?”

“When my hypnotist shows me her breasts, I plunge deep into hypnosis.”

She put him to sleep again, and before waking him at the end of their allotted time, put on her top and sweater again.

He left smiling, but with no memory of how he’d come to feel so good, and her many orgasms that night were better than she could remember for quite some time.

The following week, Helena had come prepared. Rather than her usual baggy sweater over sports bras, she wore a form-fitting pencil skirt and a blazer, buttoned tight in the front, showing a lot of cleavage. Her enormous breasts pushed together, commanding his attention as soon as he came into Helena’s office. He was immediately dumbstruck when he opened the door.

She gestured for him to relax on the couch, but he barely managed to sit down before he was completely in trance, lost, staring into her cleavage. His brain knew what to do when presented with her breasts, even if he could not consciously remember why.

This would be so easy. And more importantly, so helpful. She drew lazy spirals in front of her breasts with her manicured nails as she swayed gently and hummed softly to him. His focus was elsewhere, but Helena had painted her lips a deep matte wine-red, worn her black thick-rim glasses, and pinned her hair up.

“What do you do when your hypnotist shows you her cleavage, Neil?”

“Pluuunnnnge dowwnnn into hypnosisss…” he intoned. He could barely speak; he could see much more than cleavage. Her breasts were so big, and so full, her mounds of creamy skin nearly bursting from the deep neckline of her satiny blouse.

“Thaaaaat’s right. Thaaaaaat’s right. Down into hypnosis for your hypnotist.” she crooned. She could see his body going limp, his jaw slack, and his eyes going around and around, following her fingers as she directed his gaze so effortlessly, spiraling back and forth across her mesmerizing bust.

It was so fucking hot. She loved this. She felt like a superheroine.

Once she was convinced that she could make him completely forget the whole session again – aside from the progress they had made! – she prepared the next step.

He could barely blink as her elegant fingers undid her blazer. One button at a time. His eyes nearly popped out of his head; he was completely transfixed. She pulled off her jacket to reveal her sheer white blouse. She wore no bra today; each breast swayed and wobbled freely, barely constrained as she rocked softly from side to side, with her large pink nipples visible through the thin fabric.

He was visibly drooling, so far gone.

She started the metronome and counted him down from ten. As she counted down, she undid each button on her blouse. With the last button, she opened her shirt suddenly.

SNAP! “Sleep for me. Alllll the way down.”

With the sight of her mesmerizing nipples, he was totally out. She told him to feel warmth, to feel care and love, to feel compassion, for himself and others. She helped him reprocess old memories and reframe them so they would no longer be so painful, better and faster than ever before, as she swayed her full, naked breasts before his eyes. Enormous, full breasts with pert pink nipples, wobbling back and forth, back and forth, as memories came flooding back. He alternated between flashbacks to his past and having his mind completely filled with her huge protruding breasts, cantilevering out from her small, soft round frame.

For each painful memory he examined, she rewarded him by allowing him to stare directly into a nipple as she brought him deeper and deeper into the depths of trance. Her fingertips drew lazy spirals, tighter and tighter around her nipples. When your hypnotist shows you a spiral around her breast, you will drop deeper into hypnosis.

A botched presentation in high school, decades ago. She made it water under the bridge. These things happen. We can be kind to ourselves.

A needlessly awkward interaction in the supermarket. Women ghosting him after a first date. It was all forgiven; these things could happen to anyone. A panic attack at work; getting reprimanded for being unreliable. No longer cause for self-hate; he deserved empathy and support.

Time melted away under the weight of her enormous, hypnotizing breasts, no longer constrained even by the thin white dress shirt. They swayed back and forth, around and around, her hands kneading both her breasts and his mind, each motion and wobble bringing him deeper into trance, drooling and rock hard. She could not remember being so aroused, so wet, ever before.

His career collapsing. A falling out with friends from university. Years of verbal abuse from his former boss. His wife leaving him. He skipped randomly throughout his whole life, and each event had hurt at the time, but they were in the past. Events flowed through his mind and out of it, vividly experienced and then no longer so present.

Right now, he was staring into the most magnificent rack that he had ever seen, completely entranced by her hypnotizing breasts and floating on clouds of love.

He was hallucinating vividly, and in his mind he was passionately kissing and sucking her left nipple while humping madly on her plush thigh.

In her office, Helen was elated. Neil was doing so well, and this was the most successful therapy session she could remember in her entire career. At the moment he was completely comatose on her couch, eyes closed, visualizing what she had told him to visualize, as she sat nearby. She roused him from his dream and had him sit up again.

“You’re doing so well for me Neil. You will not remember this session at all, except how you’ve made so much progress and learned to love yourself. One more thing for you to do. You’re going to open your eyes and stare directly into both of my nipples, and you will have an overwhelming orgasm. Right. Now. Cum for me.”

She made him cum buckets right then, in his pants, for what seemed like an eternity. When he had stopped spasming, she let him rest for a few minutes, limp and unconscious on her couch, and then sent him home to clean himself up, forgetting about the whole afternoon except for his newfound calm and self-compassion.

He left in a daze, but with clear instructions that he would get himself home safely, and Helena could not remember ever feeling so sexy, or so powerful. She had helped so much. She quickly closed the door and the blinds.

She mused as she pleasured herself, perhaps Neil wasn’t the only one who could be helped this way.


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