“Look, all I’m saying is that hypnosis doesn’t work like that.”
“That’s because this isn’t exactly hypnosis. It involves what I’m calling deep belief. After all, so much of our reality is structured from our perceptions, and between that and social conformity, it seems that we can alter the deep structure of one mind and affect others as well.”
Professor Harold Larson (but he’d always preferred Harry) leaned back in his chair, frustrated, and looked at Carter, his young graduate student sitting across from him. “Look, I think you need to go back to the theoretical drawing board here, you’re talking in a bunch of new age, pseudoscience nonsense.” The phone on his desk started ringing, “Hold on Carter, let me take this.” He picked up the receiver, but before he could even say hello, his eyes glazed over, and he remained frozen, Carter’s supersonic tones playing in his ear.
The young graduate student smirked, and stood up, coming around the desk, right next to his frozen professor, and ran his hand across his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the muscles locked in place. Harry was young, fresh out of graduate school himself. Slim, he obviously kept himself in very good shape, and was wearing casual “cool” clothes, probably in some misguided attempt to get his students to “like” him. How silly, and so unlike what a professor should be. To Carter, professors were old, distinguished gentlemen, who smoked cigars and pipes, drank good bourbon, wore expensive suits, and loved fucking their young graduate students with their big fat cocks. Still, one step at a time, right?
The tone had been playing long enough to push Harry down into Carter’s “theoretical” deep hypnosis, and Carter stood next to him, and began his mantra, the professor repeating after him mindlessly:
“I believe I am fat…I believe I weigh 447 pounds…I believe I love to eat…I believe I hate exercise…I believe fat men are sexy…I believe my fat body is sexy…I believe I am obese…I believe I have been obese since I was a teenager…I believe I like having my fat body worshiped…I believe I have three chins… I believe that I love the sensation of my fat body jiggling…I believe that I love taking up space…I believe…”
Professor Larson leaned forward, putting the phone down, feeling the edge of the desk cut into his large gut. “Sorry about that,” he said, “Now, where were we?”
“I believe you were berating my theory, Professor,” Carter said, watching his massively obese professor rest back in his now reinforced chair, linking his fingers together and resting them on top of his massive apron like he’d been doing it all his life.
“Look, it’s late…how about we meet again next week? Maybe you should just think of a few other projects, in case this one doesn’t go anywhere.”
Carter smirked, but agreed, and stood up, watching his professor heft himself up as well, and walk him to the office door, and send him on his way. Now alone, Harry sighed, and gave his fat moobs a rub. Fuck, he was horny for some reason. He massaged his fat a bit longer, before sitting back down in his chair, unzipping his fly, and pulling out his cock, stroking himself quickly, feeling his fat wiggle around him as he did…but this…this couldn’t be right, could it? He suddenly felt a strange sense of vertigo, like he was looking at two different bodies. One was thin and well toned, and the other was massively obese, but he believed he was fat, he believed it, so how…how could the other one…
He came, feeling his huge body shake as he did, feeling so fucking fat, and the strange vision was gone…but not quite forgotten. He looked at the proposal Carter had left on his desk a bit incredulously, and then started reading it. It couldn’t be real, certainly…and yet…perhaps he could believe…
Bracken's Corner 