Hypno Gain - Part 4

“That’s right,” Dr. Gillingham said, careful to keep his own excitement from affecting his tone. “Everywhere is soft, warm, and inviting. Your own hands can feel it. Every man wants to insert themselves into something so comfortable, so supple. Imagine how compelling you feel, how desirable. Imagine yourself with someone else--perhaps a close friend or loved one. Imagine how grateful they would be to enjoy your softness…”

Travis’ expression remained unchanged, but Gillingham could see the effect his suggestions had. Although barely visible beneath Travis’ sagging belly and enormous thighs, the hypnotist could just see the peeking head of a thick cock poking through both flesh and foreskin, the slightest sheen of pre-cum indicating growing excitement. 

“Very good. Now, I want you to close your legs slightly--just enough that you can feel your own body around your penis. Feel how nice it is for something so warm and inviting around something so hard and sensitive. Can you do that?”

The fat man shifted his bulk, closing his legs just enough that his cock was wedged inside a cascade of flesh. Gillingham could just make out the indentation that represented his patient’s erection, but otherwise, Travis’ cock was invisible behind his enormous gut and pillowy lap.

“Now, without actually touching your cock, I want you to mash and mold your stomach so that it rubs against your shaft in a pleasurable way. Make it so all that pliable fat gives you something rather than take something away.”

With both hands, Travis reached around his own circumference and began to knead his body, feeling it, seeing how it could change shape and how that shape could apply pressure to his most sensitive of organs. Then, after a few moments, he began to subtly thrust his buried hips into the tunnel of flesh created by his own flab. 

Despite the deep hypnosis, Travis gasped. It wasn’t merely a gasp of ecstasy--although it certainly had notes of it. It was a gasp of sudden and unexpected realization. A realization that he might have been wrong about his body his entire life.

“That’s it. Keep going,” Gillingham said, unable to keep the excitement from creeping into his voice any longer.

Travis did, thrusting into himself, effectively fucking his own flab. His hands dug further into his gut, shaping it to further enhance his motion. His face now contorted into that timeless expression of deep concentration and intense eroticism--halfway between filling out tax forms and having a stroke. Only this time, his wobbling self-fucking was intense enough for beads of sweat to break out on Tarvis’ forehead. 

Gillingham watched as Travis kept undulating on the couch, a sheen of moisture covering his fat, naked body, its jiggling causing him to almost seem like he was shimmering. Then there was a small grunt, and then another, and finally a pause. Then Travis relaxed his grip on his belly, red marks appearing where he’d gripped himself, and he settled back into the couch. 

From where he was sitting, Gillingham could just make out a small puddle of milky white fluid resting on top of Travis’ thighs and a pearl of white dripping down his retreating cockhead. Hypnotized orgasms were always somewhat muted, Gillingham regretfully thought.

“Did that feel good?”

“Yes…” Travis replied dreamily.

“Good. Now, whenever you feel something is wrong, whenever you look at your fat and feel anxious, I want you to remember how you feel right now. I want you to remember that your body can be intensely erotic and pleasurable. You will become erect and you will enjoy the feeling of your own flesh in the way you did here today.”

Gillingham then handed Travis a paper towel and ordered him to clean himself up and clothe himself once more. Seeing the enormous man attempt to put on clothes that had stopped fitting dozens of pounds ago was certainly amusing, but probably detrimental to his long-term employment prospects.

“And for god’s sake, buy some clothes that fit. You’re going to get arrested at this rate.”

Some months later, Dr. Gillingham was having a drink in a strip club--not someplace he’d normally patronize, but he’d been invited. A former patient has asked him to see him perform.

Gillingham spotted Travis in the corner table, a veritable mountain of food before him. He’d put on weight, as expected, his appetite as unrestrained as ever. However, it was hard to tell how much larger he’d become simply due to the fact he was wearing clothing that revealed little beyond his already impressive bulk. Apparently Travis had gotten in with a tailor in the months after his hypnosis. 

Travis didn’t see him, he was so focused on his meal. Gillingham let him eat in peace and merely watched from afar. After Travis had finished, he heaved his even more ponderous bulk up and walked to the back of the bar where there was a stage. Then the music changed, the lights came on, and Gillingham discovered why Travis had asked to meet here. 

First the shirt came off to catcalls and whistles, revealing an even larger Travis than Gillingham had ever seen. Everything was bigger, more--more stretch marks along his sides, bigger tits, larger belly, and extra fold along his sides where his excesses were simply more than his torso could fit. A cavernous belly button hung low over his belt, wobbling with each gyration Travis made to the music. 

The effect was hypnotic in its own way, and Gillingham was entranced. When Travis reached a hand beneath his sagging gut to undo his belt, he removed it slowly like a magician revealing an object that had never been there before. More catcalls came as he flung the belt to the side and turned around, revealing the largest plumber’s crack Gillingham had ever seen. 

The pants slowly fell, revealing more and more of the expansive ass slowly moving to the music. When it was clearly beyond the equator of Travis’ middle, he let it fall to the floor with a thud. He stepped out of the garment, kicking it to the side, and turned around to reveal himself in his nude glory.

No, not nude--he was wearing a thong, but you would never be able to tell on a casual glance. The straps were buried in flesh, and only the edges digging into Travis’ tire-size lovehandles were visible. Everything else was obscured by Travis's sagging middle.

The pace of the music changed and Travis began to run his hands up and down his body, molding his malleable flesh into shapes that revealed areas otherwise invisible to the audience. At one point he lifted his gut to reveal his encased package, clearly engorged and straining the fabric. This got even more shouts from the crowd.

This seemed to be the climax. Travis continued his dance as the music died down, then got off the stage with several booming steps. He put on his shirt, but neglected his pants, then walked over to Dr. Gillingham as he sipped his drink at the bar.

“Enjoy the show?” Travis asked with a wink.