Hypno Gains

Chapter 1-4

Chapter 1 – Desk Job
Madeline Crowley pressed the elevator button with a confidence honed by ambition, caffeine, and five years of Type-A conditioning. Her reflection in the polished chrome doors grinned back—freshly graduated, freshly hired, freshly pressed into a navy blouse and slate pencil skirt that hugged her narrow waist and hips like a second skin. She looked every bit the corporate rising star.

Opser Star Co. was all sleek glass, minimalist art, and efficiency—exactly the kind of place Maddie had dreamed about during late nights cramming HR policy textbooks. The sixth floor housed Human Resources. It smelled faintly of jasmine tea and printer toner.

“New blood!” chirped a voice beside her.

Maddie turned. Lydia James, brunette, lively eyes behind oversized glasses, and the kind of smile that suggested she’d seen some things in this department, offered a friendly hand.

“I’m Lydia. Been here four years. Let me guess—you’re Madeline Crowley?”

“Just Maddie,” she said, shaking it. “HR solutions, ready to launch.”

Lydia led her past rows of open desks and humming monitors. “You’ll be in this corner cubicle. Good light, no glare, and a direct line to Grant’s office.”

Maddie perked up. “The Grant Meeker?”

“The one and only. Director of Operations. Smart, chill, weirdly into candy. You’ll see.”

That afternoon blurred in a haze of logins, benefit portal setups, and onboarding paperwork. Maddie handled it all smoothly. By 3:00, she’d mediated a low-stakes spat between two marketing interns over music volume.

“Well,” Lydia said, leaning on her cubicle wall with a grin, “we usually wait a month before throwing someone into conflict management, but that was clean.”

“Clean and caffeinated,” Maddie replied, spinning her chair lightly. “My major paid off.”

The real test came late in the day. Grant Meeker summoned her via Slack:

“Got two senior managers who hate each other. Can you babysit a mediation at 4?”

She didn’t hesitate.

Grant’s office was a clean rectangle of walnut, leather chairs, and a comically oversized jar of mini chocolate bars. He gestured to the seats, nodding toward the two executives already inside, tight-lipped and glaring.

Maddie opened her notepad. “Let’s clear the air, gentlemen. I don’t do silence.”

They blinked. Grant chuckled. Within fifteen minutes, she’d brokered a compromise over scheduling priorities and private meeting space—neutral ground, clear roles, egos spared. Smooth.

Afterward, Grant reached into his jar and offered her a wrapped Snickers. “Not bad, Crowley.”

She took it, smirking. “Is this your HR treat system?”

“We reward positive behavior here. Keeps things civilized.”

She laughed and pocketed it.

Later that night, after a celebratory glass of wine and half an episode of Succession, she unwrapped the candy and ate it slowly. It tasted good. Better than she remembered. Like success and sugar and the slight adrenaline buzz of being noticed by power.

She didn’t give it a second thought.

By the end of the first week, Maddie was flying.

Emails came with lines like “CC Maddie, she’ll know what to do.” Coworkers stopped by her desk not just for HR stuff, but for advice, for gossip, for the sheer vibe she radiated—professional, fast-talking, capable.

And the candy jar? It wasn’t a one-time thing. Every day she visited Grant’s office, he handed her something—chocolates, peanut butter cups, even little wrapped cookies.

“You fix my people, I feed my fixer,” he said one Friday, handing her a marshmallow treat bar.

She raised a brow. “You bribing me now?”

“Reinforcing greatness.”

She rolled her eyes, but she took it. She always did.

By week three, Maddie was skipping the gym more often. Her mornings were packed, her evenings full of spreadsheets and Slack pings and reorganizing onboarding systems. A few nights, she stayed late with Lydia, who ordered delivery. Thai noodles one night. Alfredo the next.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” Maddie teased, twirling her fork.

Lydia shrugged. “You’re solving everyone’s crap. Let someone feed you for once.”

It was a joke. But it landed.

She brushed her teeth that night, catching herself in the mirror. There was a softness under her ribs now—nothing major. Just a gentle rounding where her stomach used to taper flat. She poked it.

“Ugh. Office bloat,” she said aloud, half-smiling. “Desk job ass incoming.”

She laughed and turned out the light.

Chapter 2 – Incentives
Maddie’s desk drawer had become a tiny shrine: peppermint patties, trail mix, chocolate-covered almonds, individually wrapped cookies—all acquired from Grant, Lydia, or the breakroom treat table.

She told herself she only dipped in when stressed.

“I just need one to focus,” she’d mutter, unwrapping something sweet before diving into a particularly messy harassment training revision.

But one became two. A second cookie disappeared mid-email thread. And the sugar helped, didn’t it? Her mind buzzed brighter. Her fingers flew faster.

By now, her weight had ticked up to 138—then 140. She knew. She wasn’t avoiding the scale. But she also wasn’t panicking. She still fit in her clothes, mostly.

Well… she’d swapped her blouses for looser knits. And yes, her pencil skirts had quietly migrated to the back of the closet.

But it wasn’t bad, per se. Just different. A shift. The cost of excellence, maybe.

“You’re glowing lately,” Lydia said one Tuesday, sliding a cranberry scone onto her desk.

“Because I’m hydrated,” Maddie joked.

“That, or it’s the butter.”

Maddie rolled her eyes, but took a bite anyway. It was warm and soft and just the right kind of sweet. Her thighs pressed tighter together when she sat down. Her chair creaked a little more often.

Whatever.

That Friday, Grant called her in after a tense issue involving performance reviews.

“You saved us,” he said, shaking his head. “They were ready to call legal.”

Maddie smiled, tired but pleased. “Mediating a passive-aggressive director is my cardio.”

Grant laughed, handed her two chocolates this time. “Double reward.”

She accepted them with a wink. “I’ll invoice you in wrappers.”

As she left, she unwrapped one and popped it in her mouth. The other, she saved for later. She liked to draw it out now.

That weekend, she found herself standing in front of her bedroom mirror in leggings and a sports bra. Her belly had a slight curve—rounder, fuller than before. Her arms had the beginnings of softness underneath. Her thighs brushed now when she walked.

She turned sideways. Raised an eyebrow. “Hello, little shelf,” she murmured, patting the small pooch above her waistband.

Was she upset?

Not really.

Maybe… intrigued. Maybe a little annoyed. Maybe—

Hungry, suddenly.

She made popcorn and scrolled through emails on her laptop, fingers greasy, mouth full.

Later, lying back on the couch, she absentmindedly opened her phone’s browser.

Search: weight loss hypnosis near me

Her thumb hovered.

Too intense. Too weird.

But one link stood out:
Dr. Lionel Piers – Hypnosis for Clarity, Habit Control, Motivation. 30 years of experience.

The site was plain, unflashy, and oddly comforting. Blue header. Neatly arranged testimonials.

“I was skeptical, but Dr. Piers helped me reconnect with my discipline.”
“The cravings just… stopped.”
“It was like I remembered who I wanted to be.”

Maddie hesitated. Then clicked “Book Now.”

She chose a Monday morning slot.

She didn’t even know if she believed in hypnosis. But maybe, she figured, it was time to nudge herself back in the right direction.

Just a reset.

A clean little start.



Chapter 3 – Session One
Dr. Lionel Piers’ office smelled like books, leather polish, and something faintly sweet—maybe cinnamon. Maddie found it charming. Old-school, she thought. Respectable. She sat across from him, legs crossed, notebook on her lap just in case.

He was tall, stooped slightly with age, salt-and-pepper hair slicked back. Tweed jacket. Gold watch. Gentle voice.

“You’ve never been hypnotized before?” he asked.

“Nope,” Maddie said, leaning forward. “But I read the Yelp reviews. Thought maybe you could help me with a few things.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve gotten a little… off-track, I guess,” she said. “Used to be very disciplined. Workouts, eating right, high energy. Since I started this job, I’m not moving as much. I’m snacking more. And I don’t feel bad about it, but I know I should be dialing back.”

Dr. Piers nodded slowly, jotting something on his pad.

“So, you’re seeking clarity. Reinforcement of healthy boundaries.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Well,” he said with a kind smile, “that I can help with.”

The room dimmed a little when he clicked a soft amber lamp behind his chair. Maddie rested back, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly as he walked her through a calm breathing rhythm.

“You’re safe. Comfortable. Listening to my voice. That’s all you need to do.”

She felt her thoughts begin to float—untethered, uncritical. Like hearing her own voice underwater. His voice dripped into her mind, slow and steady.

“You’ve always been focused. In control. You remember what that felt like.”

Yes, she thought, drifting.

“You’ll reconnect with the feeling of… consistency. Purpose. Reward when deserved.”

Mmhmm.

“You’ll understand that satisfaction is earned,” he said, words beginning to blend as his rhythm slowed. “And when you feel it—true satisfaction—it will feel warm. Right. Deserved.”

She nodded slightly, eyelids fluttering.

“You want to feel whole. Grounded. Fulfilled,” he continued. “You’ll begin to reach for what gives you comfort, security… pleasure. And you will feel proud. You will feel good. You will want more.”

There was a pause.

He blinked.

Maddie didn’t respond. She was deep under.

Dr. Piers cleared his throat and shifted.

“What I mean is—you’ll choose healthy behavior. Of course. You’ll resist unhealthy cravings. And—and if you feel temptation, you’ll reframe it. You’ll reframe it as… no. Wait.”

His eyes darted briefly to his notes, confused.

Then he waved his hand gently near her forehead.

“When you wake,” he said carefully, “you’ll remember feeling calm and light. And every time you reward yourself, you’ll feel even better. Even more deserving. Even more proud.”

He leaned back. “Three. Two. One.”

Maddie’s eyes blinked open.

“Whoa,” she breathed. “That was… trippy.”

“You responded well,” he said. “Let’s set a follow-up. Reinforce the session in a few weeks.”

She left feeling… amazing.

Not energized exactly. Not jittery.

More like gently inflated with light. Like a balloon drifting upward. Her thoughts felt warm, wrapped in velvet. The scent of the nearby bakery hit her the moment she stepped outside.

She walked in without hesitation.

And ordered two raspberry danishes.

She didn’t question it.

Chapter 4 – Sweet Spot
Hypno Gains Sequence
The week after the session, something shifted.

Maddie didn’t crash after lunch anymore. In fact, lunch came earlier. Her mornings buzzed along until about 11:15, when her stomach growled loudly enough to draw Lydia’s attention.

“Breakfast miss you today?” Lydia joked.

“Guess I’m just ready to fuel the fire,” Maddie quipped.

She said it lightly—but the words echoed strangely in her head. Fuel the fire. That felt… right. Purposeful. She smiled at the thought.

And ate two sandwiches instead of one.

By Friday, her snacking had subtly doubled. She wasn’t binging—nothing wild or gross. Just… more. A little second helping of pasta. A chocolate after every meeting. She felt entitled to them, the way a queen expects tribute.

Her body responded quickly.

At 160 lbs, she’d begun to feel her weight in motion: the softness of her belly resting against her desk edge, the subtle rub of her thighs in nylons. She didn’t mind. She was still killing it at work. Still smart, still on top of her inbox, still charming the C-suite.

But now she did it while finishing Lydia’s leftover pastry during a morning strategy call.

“You sure you want that?” Lydia asked once, teasing.

Maddie smiled sweetly. “If you don’t, I’ll do us both the favor.”

She polished it off in three bites.

Her second visit to Dr. Piers came two weeks later.

He smiled when she walked in. “Back again, Ms. Crowley?”

“Just Maddie,” she said. “And yeah—I figured reinforcement wouldn’t hurt.”

She didn’t mention the second servings, the bakery visits, the way her pants were starting to pinch at the waist. She didn’t mention the strange pleasure that bloomed low in her belly when she ate something decadent.

He nodded. “Of course. Let’s deepen the suggestion.”

She settled into the chair again, letting the world melt.

This time, the rhythm came faster.

“You trust your body,” Dr. Piers murmured. “You trust what it tells you. You respond to need. And when you indulge that need, you feel pride. Fulfillment. You grow more certain of yourself with every reward.”

Maddie’s breath deepened, her limbs still.

“You will not second-guess pleasure. You will not fear comfort. You will not judge indulgence. These are your gifts. You’ll embrace them fully.”

He paused. His eyes flicked again to his notes, unsure.

He missed what was happening in her expression—a slight, blissful smile forming on her lips.

“You feel… balanced,” he concluded. “Calm. Strong.”

He counted her up.

Maddie blinked awake.

“Same as before?” she asked, stretching slightly in her chair.

“Same as before,” he confirmed. “You responded even more smoothly.”

Over the next week, Maddie’s hunger became something constant and beautiful—no longer a need, but a thread woven through her every moment.

She grazed like a queen: muffins in the morning, mid-morning snacks, catered lunches, an iced latte with whip just because. Food didn’t just taste good—it meant something. A reward. A love note. A validation of her power.

At home, she found herself humming while baking brownies.

She’d eat one before they were even fully cooled, licking chocolate from her fingers like it was lipstick.

At work, it didn’t go unnoticed.

Lydia said nothing when Maddie began favoring thick knit jumpers and soft blouses that clung more than they flattered. She just raised an eyebrow when Maddie cracked open a second soda during a conference call.

At 170 lbs, her body moved differently. Her hips swayed without meaning to. Her belly had enough weight to fold slightly when she sat. Her breasts filled out her bras like overripe fruit. Still, she felt… good.

And then came the creak.

She sat too quickly one morning—coffee in one hand, cinnamon roll in the other—and her office chair gave a sharp, mechanical protest beneath her.

Lydia looked up from her desk.

“Getting bold over there,” she said, smirking.

“Guess it’s time to retire the IKEA special,” Maddie replied, laughing.

They didn’t talk about it again.

By the end of the month, she was at 175 lbs. The changes weren’t just in shape anymore—they were in rhythm. In how she leaned into the breakroom fridge, how she always had a snack tucked in her drawer, how she let her hips lead when she walked past mirrored windows.

She noticed someone from marketing eye her the other day—not leering, just curious. Trying to map her against the version of herself from her first month here.

Maddie smiled.

She liked who she was becoming.

One morning, Lydia handed her a new bakery menu.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Maddie teased.

“Please. You’re the bad influence now.”

Maddie laughed—and ordered two croissants.