Bill was a man elated. The day's mail had brought
confirmation of his efforts and, he hoped, the answer to his
dreams. Many nights had gone by "working late" at the office.
"Paperwork and government regulations", he'd told his wife,
Cheryl. In truth, he was exploiting the benefits of being the
company's computer expert - unlimited Internet access.
Through a diligent search he'd found it - a complete,
certified course in "Medical Hypnotherapy and Eating
Disorders". After months of night-long e-mail study, he'd
finally completed the requirements and testing. In his hands
he held the certificate of completion he'd been seeking.
Though his course had emphasized "hypnotherapy of obesity", a
minor chapter on "treatment of anorexia" had caught his eye.
As a lifelong FA, and through a little on-line research, his
interest was peaked and his study efforts looked ready to
bear fruit.
"What's that, honey?", said Cheryl, as the long-sought
diploma was quickly wadded into refuse. "Oh, just one of
those scam giveaways", he replied, throwing the paper into
the trash compactor. Bill looked at his wife. She'd shown so
much promise when they were married - chubby cheeks with a
youthful baby-fat look, a slightly rounded belly, slightly
droopy but large bouncy breasts and a bottom that bordered on
overly full. The effect was that of an exaggerated hourglass
that drove Bill to distraction, but now, 5 years later, all
was not well. Cheryl, always sensitive to peer pressure, had
taken a secretarial job with a group of thin, catty, nearly
anorexic coworkers. Bill recoiled in horror when he first met
them in their tight miniskirts and blouses, with uplift
brassieres clearly designed to maximize assets that weren't
there. Most of them were single and clearly after the
unhappily married CEO. Unfortunately, the girls were jealous
of Cheryl's fully developed figure and chided her into a 30
pound weight loss. Where she once looked forward to meals,
laughing and eating with her husband, Cheryl now simply sat
quietly picking at her salad and looking wistfully at Bill's
generous portions. "Join me", Bill would repeatedly urge her,
but the reply was always the same: "I just couldn't - the
girls would never let me forget it". Now that was all about
to change.
Step one began with a night out. As usual, Cheryl
resisted the attempt to get her to a nice restaurant, but she
was willing to go to one of the local comedy clubs. "Diet
cola", she ordered, meeting her cover charge. As she slowly
sipped her drink, the acts passed - a pretty unimpressive
mime, a crude local comedian, and a passably good parody
singing act. Finally, amid much fanfare, the featured
"professional" act of the evening was introduced - "The
Magnificent Mentalist", a famous stage hypnotist and ( not
coincidentally ) an on-line acquaintance from the hypnoschool
who shared a common interest in women with Bill. The two had
built a strong friendship from this start and "TMM" agreed to
give Bill's plan a "jump start".
Calling for volunteers, the performer went through all
the usual moves - a quiet accountant was suddenly ( and
tonelessly ) belting out songs as Elvis, several people were
busily swatting at insects that weren't there, and the macho
dude in the tank top was a baby, gurgling and cooing.
Finally, nodding almost imperceptibly to Bill, he called for
one last volunteer. Bill quickly grabbed Cheryl's hand and
before she could resist, shot it into the air. Before she
could stammer her objections, Cheryl found herself being
escorted onto the stage to the applause of the other patrons.
Within a few minutes, her world was the hypnotist, his voice
her only focus, as she felt herself slowly drifting, her body
becoming more and more relaxed, her fears and concerns
fading. Finally, the seemingly simple hypnotic suggestion was
made : "You will wake up hungry". With a snap of his fingers,
Cheryl found herself abruptly back upon the stage with the
hot lights upon her. She remembered nothing but felt great. A
strange gnawing sensation made itself known, and she soon
found herself finishing a burger, double order of fries, and
two drafts almost unconsciously. She noted the crowd looking
at her and smiling. Nervously, she checked her purse and
looked in the small mirror finding nothing out of the
ordinary. She checked her sweater, skirt and hose and found
nothing wrong. "Must be my fifteen minutes of fame", she
thought, nibbling on a buffalo wing. Finally, it was time to
leave. All the night's participants travelled backstage to be
"unhypnotized", except Cheryl, who was quickly escorted to
the car by Bill.
The next morning Cheryl awoke refreshed but feeling a
little bloated. "Must be retaining water", she thought.
Still, a vague hunger gradually grew and with some effort (
and Bill's encouragement ) a small stack of pancakes was soon
gone. "Right on schedule", thought Bill.
On return home that evening, Cheryl was almost in tears.
The few pounds gained had not escaped the attention of her
coworkers who made the rest of the day miserable. Skipping
lunch, she returned home with a renewed will to diet.
Expectantly, Bill was waiting. Settling his wife gently onto
the sofa, he spoke to her in gentle, soothing, somehow
familiar sounding tones. Slowly, as she gazed into his loving
eyes, Cheryl felt herself drifting and relaxing. Bill
continued the work started the night before. He reinforced
and amplified his colleague's work of the prior night and
began to add a dose of self-confidence. "The more you eat,
the better you feel. The better you feel, the better you
look. ", he added to the appetite stimulation which he
reemphasized. Almost without realizing it, Cheryl found
herself awake and sitting at the dinner table with the
sumptuous dinner Bill had delivered. Consuming a quantity
that would have sent her running in terror to the spa only a
day before, Cheryl sat back and softly patted her softly
distended tummy, feeling still strangely unfulfilled.
Finally, sensing his moment, Bill brought forth the baked
Alaska that had been hiding in the fridge. Feeling even
hungrier and stronger as she ate, Cheryl singlehandedly
finished the party - sized confection. Guiding his now
stuffed and somnolent wife up the stairs, Bill helped her
remove her clothes and slowly climb into bed, noting with
some satisfaction, a roundedness to his wife's stomach that
he hadn't seen for years.
The cycle continued for several weeks, until eventually
Cheryl felt well enough about herself that she was able to
simply ignore her coworkers taunts and jibes. Her appetite
grew to its former vigor and beyond. Months later, as she
modelled her new size 16 work clothes for Bill ( having
climbed through sizes 4 through 14 ) , Cheryl suddenly felt
satisfied at last. Noting her generous cleavage, emphasized
by a low v-neck and specially ordered "BBW" bra, her softly
curved stomach blending into flaring hips and a full, rounded
bottom , she slowly ran her hands along the soft silky
fabric. She felt stronger, better, and sexier than she could
have ever believed and it showed. The CEO, previously an
undeclared FA, soon noticed the standout in the secretarial
pool and promoted her to the director of secretarial
personnel with a large pay raise - more than enough to keep
up with her rapidly ( and literally ) growing wardrobe. At
home, Cheryl became a sexual aggressor, much to Bill's
delight. Burying his face in his wife's soft neckline, Bill
congratulated her on the new promotion and began to work his
way toward the paradise of her generous body. Returning his
kiss but holding him at bay, she replied "I like the way you
think, but let's eat first. I'm STARVED ".
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by 1FA