Think Bigger – Prolog (Patreon)

It's been a while since I published my last story—but here we go again! I hope you're as excited as I am. This one will be more of a slow burner and a bit longer than the last stories. I'll try to publish chapters as fast as possible, but there might be some time in between. 

Enjoy!
Tags: Hypnosis, Muscle-Growth, Cock-Growth, Body-Growth. Unaware Growth, Stuffing, Domination, Outgrowing Clothes, Immobility, Hetero to Gay, Dumbing Down, Off-Season…

***

“Come on, little guy! Let’s go!” Caleb called out.

“Come on!” Trevor demanded.

“We still have plenty of time,” Regan laughed.

I didn’t say anything in response to their commotion.

We were four “friends,” as I’d like to think, but that didn’t feel like it was the case most of the time. We shared a flat and some hobbies, but the four of us couldn’t be any more different even though (I have to admit) I was the only one not fitting in most of the time.

Caleb was the reason for us to be in Las Vegas. He competed in a bodybuilding contest the other day and even brought a trophy home. Not first place, but he was thrilled either way. He had stepped down that stage, his legs shaking, his body dried out but still massive, shiny, and bronze-colored. His grin had been as wide as his face! He was proud of what he had accomplished over the last years. I ran to him, hugged him, and enjoyed the feeling of his body against mine for a few seconds. Unlike Trevor and me, Caleb and I got along pretty well.

“We are going to miss the show! Hurry the fuck up!” Trevor barked in that usual annoyed tone he referred to me in.

Trevor. He was a prick and the one who called me out just for existing and being late. He had all the right to be that way—in his world, at least. He was the tallest of us; an impressive sight.

“Trevor, could you shut up?” Regan groaned, annoyed with Trevor’s tone.

When he wasn’t in Vegas celebrating his best friend’s accomplishments, he was a construction worker. His body showed that fact off pretty damn well. He wasn’t as built as Caleb or as tall as Trevor, but a good middle ground between these two. He had a nice beard, a kind smile, a fresh fade (“Everything ready for Vegas, baby!”), and a perfect guy all-around. Should I ever find a boyfriend, someone like Regan would be the ideal.

“Why the fuck was he invited again?”

They talked about me as if I wasn’t in the room most of the time. I was used to it, but now I started wondering why I even joined the trip to Las Vegas.

My name is Kyle. I’m a teacher. That kind that no one respects. I know this, but I can’t change anything about it. After all these years, I just go with the flow. You get used to being stepped on.

I like to refer to the other three as “The Bachelors”—no idea why they were still single most of the time.

It was our last night in Vegas. To celebrate Caleb’s win, we wanted to enjoy a big show dinner. It was our gift to Caleb, who sure was hungry after the competition.

“Are we ready then?” Trevor asked.

We were all dressed in suits and ties. While the others looked stunning as always in their formal wear, I just looked lost in my jacket. I nodded in response to Trevor.

Our reservation awaits.

***

The next thing I remember is us sitting at the dinner table, not far from the grand stage where “real magic” was taking place. The show was almost over, and we were already stuffed from all the delicious courses we had. I took a look at Caleb and saw that he was having a phenomenal time—I was more than happy to see his eyes glowing like that after he put himself through hell these last weeks.

And then, suddenly, a spotlight blinded me.

“You! Get up here and bring your friends!” the performer’s voice blasted from the sound system.

It felt like a hole opened up in front of me, and I was being sucked in against my will. I could feel Regan’s hand on my back as he pushed me to the stage. Regan and Caleb were excited about this. I just wanted to die.

The magician (or was it just an illusionist?) asked me for my name.

“I’m Kyle,” I muttered.

“Nice to meet you, Kyle. Tell me. Have you or your friends ever been hypnotized before?”

We each shook our heads.

“What brought you all to Vegas?”

“My friend here participated in the bodybuilding contest,” I pointed towards Caleb. I was ashamed that I didn’t remember the name of his competition.

“Which one is the muscle head? You all look so strong in your nice suits,” the magician asked with a smile. A lady from the audience cheered loudly for all three of them.

Caleb raised his hand, blushing now, his biceps straining his jacket.

The man with the mic pushed past me and walked over to Caleb.

“Did you win?”

“Almost,” he said coyly, and his neck seemed to disappear.

“Well, maybe next year then.”

“Definitely!”

“So, back to you, Kyle. You seem like a wonderful guy. I hope your friends are cherishing you enough.”

I resisted looking back at Trevor’s face. I’m sure he was annoyed by the whole show.

“They do,” I said in fear of what would happen next.

“I think there’s always room for improvement, don’t you think? I’d like to end my show with a little bit of mind bending, or as most of you would call it, Hypnosis.”

Applause from the audience. I could feel how every word of his performance was charging the air in the venue.

An assistant brought three chairs to the stage, and with a slight push, my three friends sat down. While Regan and Caleb couldn’t wait for what would happen next, Trevor was annoyed. He felt like a puppet—a feeling he wasn’t fond of.

The magician got in front of them. He asked them to close their eyes. Trevor looked me dead in the face as if to say, “Do something stupid, and I’ll fuck you up,” before he followed orders.

Waves of mysterious music were hitting the stage. The lights dimmed down.

“The next time I snap my fingers, the three of you will fall into a deep slumber.”

A few more words, another look into the audience, and then—snap—my friends fell asleep, their heads slumped forward, and their chins rested on their chests. I couldn’t believe it worked.

“Now, Kyle. I want you to prove that they’re gone for good.”

I was standing in front of Regan cluelessly. The magician noticed my hesitation.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Slap him! Don’t worry; he, won’t feel a thing.”

Regan was my friend. I couldn’t slap him. I had never hit anyone in my life before, especially not across the face!

The magician was a little annoyed with me. Hell, I was too. He put the mic down and whispered to me and just to me, “Come on, pal, do it. I promise he won’t be able to feel it. I do ten shows a week, and this always works.”

I got in position and immediately lost control over my hand because of my body’s sheer amount of awkwardness. I slapped Regan. Very hard. My hand was now a red mark on his cheek. What had I done?

But he didn’t say a word. His head was wobbling back and forth for a second. He couldn’t feel a thing, his eyes still closed.

The crowd cheered for my hard slap, and the magician continued, “Easy there, buddy, let's make sure your friends leave Vegas with all their teeth.”

The audience laughed.

“Now, gentlemen. The next time I snap, you’ll do anything Kyle wants from you. Doesn’t that sound nice, Kyle?”

“I…I think so?”

The magician laughed out loud, and then the audience joined in.

“Well, in that case, we have to change the rules. Every time Kyle uses the phrase ‘I think,’ you have to follow his commands.”

The audience was laughing again. I was not far from a breakdown.

The magician raised his hand one more time and snapped.

“Come on, Kyle, do your worst.”

All eyes in the room rested on me. My mind was trying to come up with something to please the masses.

“Regan,” my voice trembled, “I think… you should get up.”

With his eyes still closed and his face unmoved, Regan’s body raised to his feet.

The audience was speechless. The magician walked over under applause and grabbed Regan’s face. “What a good boy he is! Now, Kyle, give us something to look at!”

He leaned against the unconscious Caleb, and I knew what he implied.

“I think you should flex your muscles for us, Caleb.”

Why did I say that? I didn’t know what got into me. The sudden power given to me was making me drunk.

To my surprise, Caleb raised from his seat and started taking off his suit jacket, followed by his tie. As he revealed the tight button-down below, the people in the audience began to cheer again. Then I had an idea.

“I think you should give Mr. Magic a lap dance.”

With his eyes still closed, he pushed the magician onto his seat. He couldn’t do anything about it. Then Caleb started to dance while unbuttoning his shirt. The magician tried to get out, but Caleb was too big. His thighs kept him captive.

I realized I had dug my own grave as I felt myself starting to get hard in the middle of the stage.

“I think that’s enough,” I said. Someone in the crowd started whistling.

As soon as the man with the mic was back to his breath, he said, “Applause for Kyle, everybody! Now, I think it’s time to get your friends back.”

I was pleased to hear that. I wasn’t interested in doing something with Trevor. He would kill me if he’d found out.

“I’ll count to three now. With the next snap of my fingers, you all will be awake again, and the spell will be over. And Kyle will have to pay you if he wants to see another lap dance.”

The crowd erupted with laughter.

He started the countdown, his open hand casting a black shadow in the air.

“Three, two, one.”

Before the magician snapped his finger one last time, a waiter in the audience stumbled over someone’s feet, and a whole tray of empty water bottles shattered into a million pieces. Nobody heard the snap. Everyone turned their heads to see what had just happened.

The magician looked pissed. That wasn’t the grand finale he had imagined.

Regardless, the three men in their seats were awake again. They were blinking hard as their eyes adjusted to the stage lights.

“Back with a bang, I’d say!”

The audience applauded and started laughing as Caleb discovered that his shirt was open and his jacket was lying on the ground with confusion.

“Have some decency,” the magician joked. “There are kids here!”

We left the stage with more applause.

***

My heart was still racing when we got back to the hotel hours later. We were all a little drunk from the night. Trevor and Regan shared a room, and I was bunking with Caleb. We had to share a king-sized mattress, but I was okay with it.

Caleb unbuttoned his shirt for the second time this evening. We both noticed that there was still stage paint left on his skin from the contest. The inside of his shirt was all sweaty and bronze-colored now.

“Ah fuck, I liked this shirt,” he groaned.

“I think you should probably have another shower before painting the whole bed bronze,” I joked.

“You’re right.”

I searched for my phone charger while he undressed in front of me. I tried to resist staring at his broad back muscles, thick thighs, and marvelous ass.

While Caleb was under the shower, I cycled through Twitter, Instagram, and tumblr in a loop. Pictures of morphed men in every variation flooded my mind. I was drunk and horny, my cock rising fast. Slowly, I rubbed my growing bulge through my pants.

“Kyle?” he called from the shower, interrupting my trance. “Sorry, but could you scrub my back? I think there’s still paint left, and I…well, I can’t reach it.”

I slowly entered the tiny bathroom, the shower was still running, and mist already covered all the mirrors. The air was heavy but smelled nice. Caleb had his back turned to me and reached behind to present a sponge.

“Of course, no problem,” I said, but I couldn’t ban the shaking out of my voice.

I started scrubbing and marveled at Caleb’s physique beneath the sponge in my hand. He was remarkably built, and I couldn’t understand what was missing to win every bodybuilding contest in the world. I tried not to watch the water running down his back, through every valley until it coated his marble-like ass like a veil.

“There’s still paint on your ass.”

He laughed and blushed simultaneously.

“Damn, I’m sorry, but can you…”

He didn’t have to say it. I let the sponge glide along his cheeks. Suddenly, he changed his ass’s form from hard to soft. Caleb’s bottom was the eighth world wonder, I thought. I could scrub his bubble butt forever, and it would make me happy.

Eventually, I said, “we probably shouldn’t tell this to the others.”

“They would rip one joke after the other,” he laughed. “You’re right. Thanks, man.”

I left Caleb to himself and returned to the bed. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed that I was rock hard.

That night, while Caleb was snoring, I went to the bathroom to jack off. It was the only way to get his sexy ass out of my mind. Jerking off, eyes closed, replaying what happened hours before in my head. I dreamed of Caleb doing whatever I wanted. I imagined him turning around under the shower by my command. I’d seen his package on stage, so I knew he must be carrying around some decently sized balls. In my dream, I took his package into my hand and told him to relax. He threw his head back in that vision and grabbed mine with his big hands. My lips came closer to his rigid dick, and I opened my mouth wide.

Then I came.

***

After a four-hour flight, we were back at our flat the following afternoon. We were all still hungover. Caleb must have been the most dehydrated man on earth. He didn’t want to drink after the competition, but Trevor convinced him to have a couple of shots. Still, he was hungover with the rest of us.

I forgot most of what happened in Las Vegas, following the city's motto.

The following Monday, we were all back to our jobs. Most hours of the day I was at school teaching, Caleb was back in the gym doing some personal trainer stuff I didn’t understand, Regan was down the road at a construction site from sunrise till sunset, and Trevor was in his office copying numbers from one excel sheet to another. At least that’s what I imagined his job to be.

Everything was back to usual. Back to the same dull routine. If only the magician had not made that one terrible mistake.