Hypno Gain - Part 3

A few weeks later, Travis returned bigger than ever. Dr. Gillingham would put his recent gain at another 20 lbs, easily. Whereas before his clothing seemed fit to burst, now he simply spilled out at every opportunity. His belly, already his most dominant feature, now surged from beneath his threadbare t-shirt almost far enough to see his exposed navel. His sleeves were torn at the ends, showing where his ham-like upper arms were bursting at the seams. Gillingham couldn’t see Travis’ rear, but he suspected he’d find the mother of all plumber’s cracks readily visible.

However, Travis’ clothing wasn’t the only thing that was showing signs of becoming frayed. Whereas last session Travis’ belly-handling was done for pleasure, now it seemed to have taken on the form of a nervous tick. He seemed anxious, afraid, and he kneaded his love handle the same way someone else would play with a stress ball.

“Something feels wrong,” was all he said in place of ‘hello.’

Dr. Gillingham put on his most comforting expression. “Sit down, let’s talk about it.”

Travis did so, and Gillingham noted the slight creak as his patient’s bulk settled into the chair.

“I just keep feeling like I’m forgetting something, all the time, but I just can’t remember what it is.”

The psychologist just sat and watched Travis for a moment. He’d never let go of his right love handle since first entering his office. He molded it back and forth, clearly trying to offset his own mental distress with something that he found pleasurable, even if he didn’t understand why. Gillingham’s hypnotic suggestions still held--at least partially--but it seemed Travis’ deep-seated terror of his own increasing girth was stronger than he’d anticipated.

They talked for a few minutes about mundane topics and the usual day-to-day events before getting down to what was truly bothering Travis. “On top of that, I just feel like there’s two parts of me fighting over… something. I can’t figure it out and it’s making me so… anxious,” Travis finished. 

“Hm,” Dr. Gillingham said as acknowledgment while writing something down on a notepad. It was nothing--just mindless scribbles--but he found that it helped put patients at ease if they thought he was taking detailed notes over everything they said. “Well, there’s clearly something going on. How about we crack open the mental hood and take a look.” 

Travis was hesitant this time but still agreed to be hypnotized once more. After falling into as deep a trance as ever, Gillingham asked Travis’ subconscious just what he was so upset about.

“I’m huge,” he said without emotion. “I’m bigger than I’ve ever been.”

“Don’t you remember our last conversation? Don’t you find it enjoyable?”

A chunky hand tugged even harder at a flabby roll. “Yes…” 

“Then what’s the problem?”

Silence. Travis didn’t answer--couldn’t answer. His own internal confusion was so great that not even his subconscious mind could form into words the source of its turmoil. 

That’s when Dr. Gillingham saw his opportunity. “Alright Travis, we’re going to try something a little different. I like to call it ‘positive reinforcement.’ First, I’d like you to take off all your clothes.” 

Travis’ hesitation returned. “It’s alright, I’m a doctor. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Gillingham said, assuaging his patient’s fears. 

It was an even greater struggle this time than the last, with tugs and contortions just to get Travis’ t-shirt over his ham-like upper arms. Several small rips were torn even larger, and his right sleeve almost tore all the way up to his neck. Finally removed, Travis’ t-shirt looked like it had been mauled by a rabid animal. 

His pants were even worse. His seat tore in half as soon as he stood up, but even with the additional leverage of looser fabric he still needed to roll his jeans down his enormous thighs and over his capacious rear. His underpants--a pair of once-loose fitting boxers, now appeared painted to his groin. Travis didn’t even both trying to extract the garment without damage, and instead simply grabbed both sides and tore them in half leaving him standing there in nothing but his socks.

Travis had always been large, but the size to which he’d expanded in such a short time had truly ravaged him. Angry red stretch marks surrounded the lower half of his belly and spread all the way from his love handles to his back. More appeared on his inner thighs and upper arms, and a few even dotted where the man’s heavy chest had swollen even further with adipose to rest majestically atop his sagging stomach.

This was also the first time Gillingham was able to see Travis’ groin, and the psychiatrist noted how despite their larger size, Travis’ legs still seemed to present a certain solidity. Massive quads and glutes were camouflaged in all that fat and combined with the slowing crashing wave of his own gut, Travis’ genitals had little space left. What appeared to be a modest (if thick) uncut member was slowly being swallowed up by the advancing tide of flesh. Travis’ testes fared slightly better, his scrotum having stretched itself further to allow its precious eggs to dangle further down Travis’ chunky legs. 

When Travis sat back down, it became clear just what was stretching his bag--there was no room between his thighs, so his balls rested on his lap just the same as his belly did. In fact, in his sitting position, you couldn’t see his genitals at all.

Which wouldn’t do for what came next. “Travis, spread your legs--give yourself some room to breathe.” He made it sound innocent enough, so Travis complied without pause. This fat man’s balls tumbled down to rest on the seat, while his belly sagged even further between what little gap presented even as Travis spread his legs as far apart as seemed possible. 

“Last time you found out how your size could be interesting--even fun. Now you’re going to discover that it can be erotic,” Gillingham announced. “I want you to think of the most erotic thing you can and while you’re doing that I want you to feel your body--how soft and smooth it is, how much your hand can sink into your stock and how pliable it is. Go ahead.” 

Travis did as instructed, his fat hands and even fatter digits running over the contours of his corpulence. It was slow at first, but then he seemed to warm to the endeavor, pressing further into his flesh and leaving red marks where his hands once were.

And from the deep, dark cavern of his groin, Gillingham noted a stirring.