Hypno Gain - Part 1

Time for a new story! This one sort of just came to me as a means of exploring what I sometime find in big dudes who dislike their size. Not much sex to start, but I expect this story to "grow". Hehe.

"It's been pretty much a straight line up since childhood," Travis said with a sigh. "I never wanted to be big. It's basically been a curse all my life."

“Curse? How do you mean?”

Travis grunted. “Well, I mean, nobody likes it. It can never find clothes that fit. I was constantly bullied all throughout school--even my friends tease me for being fat. I hate it.” 

Seated across from Travis, Dr. Gillingham jotted down a few notes. “And so you came to me to ‘lift your curse,’ as it were.” 

“Yeah,” Travis replied. “I heard you were a licensed hypnotherapist, and well, I’ve tried everything else. Diets, exercise, nothing works. I just keep getting bigger. I’m worried at this rate I’ll get something like diabetes or worse.”

Travis was certainly large enough where those concerns were valid. Frankly, Dr. Gillingham was surprised that he hadn’t run into medical issues already (at least, Travis’ intake form hadn’t indicated any medical issues besides some mild sleep apnea). 

“Well, we can certainly explore that possibility, but I’d like to explore your history for a moment. You said that you’ve been getting larger your entire life?”

“Yeah,” Travis said.

“How much do you weigh now?”

Travis looked down and sighed again. “About 325 lbs, give or take.” Dr Gillingham mentally gave him an additional 10 lbs. 

“And you’re 29?”

“Turning 30 next year,” Travis said in agreement.

“And how much did you weigh in college?” 

“I don’t know exactly, but I was definitely smaller. Maybe 270, 280?”

“And how was your diet through those years?”

Travis again put on an embarrassed look, but it was tempered by a certain fondness, Dr. Gillingham noted. “I mean, it was my first time on my own, and the school cafeteria wasn’t exactly known for having the healthiest menu. It was a lot of burgers, pizza, fries.” Then Travis saw the inquisitive eyebrow on his psychiatrist’s face and added: “There was the occasional fruit tossed in, I guess…”

“Right. And how often did you exercise? Did you go to the gym?”

“More after I graduated. Three times a week, more on the weekends than during the workweek,” Travis said, but he seemed to be holding something back. It seemed more to the doctor that Travis was like many of his patients, heading to the gym as part of a new year’s resolution and then losing interest after a few months. Or weeks. 

Dr. Gillingham expected Travis’ diet hadn’t improved much since college, either. “And how is your diet now?”

“I just don’t have the time to cook, you know? It’s always work, work, work…” That was all the response Dr. Gillingham needed.

“I understand,” the doctor replied. “First, let me say that I hear this story almost once a week. You’re no different from many of my patients, and I’ve been able to help all of them on their journeys.” 

Travis smiled, bolstered by the doctor’s words.

“What we’re going to do is have you lay down on the couch so we can see how susceptible you are to hypnosis,” Gillingham added. “Not everyone can take suggestion as easily as others, although I do have a fairly good track record. So just put your feet up and get comfy.” 

Travis did as instructed, laying his hands clasped over his belly as he lay flat on his back. His stomach rose and fell with each breath, his double chin resting on his chest, and his right love handle perched precariously over the edge of the cushion. Dr. Gillingham made a practice out of helping obese patients, so his choice of furniture was designed to accommodate even the largest of body types--albeit just barely.

The doctor turned on some light new-age sounding music and turned it down until it was almost imperceptible. Then he began to speak in a low, soothing voice.

“What I want you to do is just close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. I want you to feel relaxed and calm. This is a safe space--you can say whatever you want. You can be honest and truthful here about everything you feel, about your past, and what you want for your future.”

Seeing Travis in comfortable repose, Dr. Gillingham continued. “Now I want you to focus on your eyes, and how heavy they feel. You feel as if in a deep sleep, a deep, comfortable sleep. You feel heavy, and warm, and comfortable. Everything is pleasant and restful. And now you feel like in a dream where you can talk but not wake. Are you ready for us to talk?” 

“Yes,” Travis said in a low, even tone. 

“Good,” Gillingham replied. “I want you to tell me what you ate before coming to my office.” 

It was the middle of the afternoon, so the doctor expected breakfast and lunch. Instead, Travis replied with a list of snacks that included chocolate bars, a bag of chips, two egg-muffin combo meals at a local drive-thru restaurant, and a lunch at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet that included three plates and several soda refills.

The cause of Travis’ obesity was immediately clear: he simply didn’t know what he ate. It was, in essence, a sort of self-hypnosis where the mind ignores what the body puts inside itself. Some used the term “mindless eating” to describe how they could eat an entire bag of chips without realizing, but in Travis’ case, it was even more extreme. Portions, calories, and more were never even considered. 

Gillingham sighed. He could easily just point this out to Travis while he was awake, but then he’d be out of a patient. Business had been slow these past few months, so instead, he decided to try a different tactic. 

“Do you enjoy eating, Travis?” 

“Yes,” came the immediate response. Again, typical of a man of his stature.

“Would you like to keep eating?” 

“No,” Travis said in his trance-like voice. “I am fat. I don’t want to be fat.” 

“But you enjoy eating, yes?”

“Yes,” Travis replied again, this time with a look of concern on his face. Gillingham knew he’d have to be careful here when he inserted his suggestion, lest the conflict between Travis’ id and ego rip him from his hypnotic state.

“What are you afraid of?” 

“I am afraid I will keep getting bigger,” Travis replied, but then continued after a moment. “I’m afraid that my size is out of my control and I will just keep getting bigger. I’m terrified one day I’ll be as big as those guys on TV.” 

“Afraid that you won’t be able to leave your house? That you’ll be confined to your bed, unable to wear clothes?” This was another typical fear for large men. Although they’ll not be aware of the cause, they’ll be aware of the effect as their weight steadily increases year after year. It doesn’t take a genius to know where that will eventually lead.

“Yes,” Travis replied, the frown on his fat face becoming even more furrowed.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Gillingham said, and Travis’ expression softened. “It’s also okay to enjoy eating. I want you to keep enjoying the act of eating. You will keep eating and eating and not noticing what you eat. After you leave here today, you’ll go home and have two dinners, whatever you want them to be. And after that, two deserts. You will not feel guilty of eating.” 

Travis smiled. This is what he wanted to hear, and in his current state, he was unable to piece together the consequences of guilt-free overeating.

“When I snap my fingers, I want you to wake up without any memory of our conversation. You will wake up well-rested as though from a pleasant dream.” 

Gillingham snapped his fingers and Travis slowly arose from his slumber with a smile. He paid for his appointment and left feeling renewed and ready to take on his weight problem. 

Just as soon as he ate an entire pizza and followed it up with a tub of ice cream.