Goddess by Proxy

As she went through her inbox, deleting mail after frustrating mail from several dating sites, Dr. Ami Shikami wondered how she ended up here. She wondered how six dates in a row could go so badly. Were her two Ph.D's not worth at least one guy who could fucking carry a conversation about anything aside from "her rack" or "dat ass"? Did she really have nothing more to offer them than how she made fried rice or if the first date had a happy ending? Sure, she looked good, yes, she wanted a good, hard fucking, and yes, her heritage shined through, but she was a god damned professional not some college co-ed.

With the last email deleted, she felt utterly exhausted and collapsed into her arms. She was just about to let herself drift off, when there was a knock on her office door. Her next appointment had arrived. Putting aside her own personal crisis, she folded her laptop closed, rose from behind her desk, adjusted her tight, but professional dress, and crossed the room. The man who had said he was named Doug Schultz was standing in the doorway. She ushered him in and he stepped through from the waiting room.

"Thank you for finding time in your schedule for me, Dr. Shikami," he offered his hand.

The therapist shook her prospective new client's hand and offered him a seat. He sat on the sofa, she sat in her favorite velvet arm chair. Next to it was a table that held the CD player she used to help with inducing a trance state. She sat with her legs crossed, he sat with his hands on his splayed knees. As he glanced around at all the things she had in her office, she evaluated his physical appearance.

To her, Doug seemed over all in a decent place. His brown hair was neat and short. He wore tailored clothes which complemented his tall, slightly underweight build. His eyes were alert and shockingly blue, thought his expression did seem kind of haunted. She was honestly not sure what he was in her office for as he had not told her.

Normally, she saw people whose addictions to the physical pleasures of life had pushed them to the brink, both physically and mentally. The people who came to her for help were typically jittery from not sleeping or exhausted from constant stimulation. To have a relatively healthy looking person sitting here, with no context as to why he had even gotten in touch with her, had Ami at a loss. Still, she reminded herself, not every mental affliction showed physical symptoms and she had treated otherwise functional individuals before, this would just require some digging.

"So, what can I do for you, Doug? You were not very forthcoming over the phone."

"I'm hoping you can help me. I was told by a friend that you helped her deal with certain...physical obsessions." Surprisingly, a blush bloomed on his cheeks.

"That broadly describes every one of my clients, Doug. Could you be more specific?"

"She was obsessed with fitting ever larger things inside her."

Ami remembered that client. Heather was what she had called herself. When she had come for a consult, she had already stretched both her vagina and anus to easily accommodate objects as thick as soda cans. She frequently used larger. Even at her office job, she normally had bulbous plug bigger than her fist slid inside of her.

As they talked her through her issues, it turned out her desire was not to stop, but to be bold enough to show her talents off. Heather wanted to be free of embarrassment. Ami helped her find that. Once in a while, she scheduled an appointment just to talk about her new life as a cam girl and romance writer and it was fascinating what just one phrase uttered under hypnosis could do.

"Ah? Are you saying you are obsessed with size, then, like she was? How does that manifest?"

"Maybe? I guess?" He hesitated and looked down. She shifted her legs, but waited with a patient smile. He took a deep breath and started talking again, never looking up from the floor.

"It's more that I hate myself. I have always been very...small. It's getting to the point where I've been laughed out of bed more times than I can count. So I don't even date now, I just go home and read or watch porn about both men and women growing huge dicks, rubbing myself until I come all over my underwear. Then I take a shower and go to bed, only to wake up the next day feeling like shit that I wasted my evening."

Ami crossed her arms and put a finger to her jaw line as she grappled with the sheer weight of the rushed revelation. The fact that he was displacing his desire to be more sexually masculine on either gender was fascinating and worth pursuing in later sessions.

While figuring out where to take the conversation, she absently considered what coming home to dick growth fantasies everyday would do to a person. As her thoughts lingered, she had a flash of her patient with impossibly large cock and an involuntary shudder rose up her spine. She really needed to get laid and soon. Being a sexual therapist who was not getting any herself was very distracting.

"I see. Well, I have certainly helped others with those feelings before. You know what it is I do?"

He nodded. "Hypno-therapy, right?"

"Correct. So you know I can't actually make you bigger. What were you hoping to get out of our sessions?"

"To feel comfortable with how I look," he said before looking up. "Failing that, maybe find the courage to modify myself somehow. I've thought about buying a pump or going for a surgery consultation, but I chicken out before I commit."

Her finger slipped down to point at Doug. "Both reasonable goals, but a bit diametrically opposed wouldn't you say?"

"I guess. If I had to choose, I'd choose actually becoming larger."

"Well, I can help you with that, or at least knowing how that feels."

"Really?" He sat forward in the first real display of emotion. "What do I have to do?"

"Just sit back and listen to the sound of my voice. I'll guide you down to the depths of your mind."

Doug settled back into the sofa and closed his eyes. She turned on the CD player and the sound of violins filled the room. Their soft tempo blended with her voice as she talked him into the trace. Down. Down. Deeper. The cadence of her suggestions rose and fell with the violins until as she heard his breathing cycle slow to once every few bars.

"Doug, how are you feeling?"

"Relaxed."

"Good. Now I was you to focus on your penis. Can you describe it for me?"

"It's short, my foreskin droops off the end, even when I'm hard. When I have it in my hand, it feels like nothing is there. I usually just rub myself through my underwear like a girl."

Again, her mind latched on to those words, playing out a quick fantasy where he rubbed his tiny dick until it grew to be massive. Where was this coming from? Was she really that desperately horny?

"I want you to think about being hard, feel the blood pumping into your penis." She made an effort to not connect with the words she was speaking, but could almost feel his theoretically massive cock throbbing larger in her hands.

"Do you feel the blood pumping, Doug?" In her mind, she was on her back.

"I do. I feel warm." His hands were caressing her calves as she spread herself wide.

"Great. Now, keep thinking about your penis." Her hands were guiding him to her pussy.

"I want you to visualize six instead of four." The head of his cock pushed against her.

"Think of four and add one, then add one again." His massive bulk was slipping in.

"It's simple right? Just add one twice." The feeling of him stretching her was wonderful.

Her client said nothing, but she could have sworn the crotch of his tailored pants twitched. She shook it off, she obviously was letting her own bizarre fantasy sink into her awareness. She took a breath to center herself. Then another. She felt in control again.

"Are you happy with six?"

"No," he said it so forcefully that she paused.

"Why not? Six is larger than four, is it not?"

"It's still not enough."

"Then think about six becoming seven, and seven becoming eight."

This time she definitely noticed a swelling outline in his pants. Inexplicably, he was actually growing. She shifted again and was definitely still a little turned on.

"Doug, I want you to subtract two from eight."

"But I want to keep adding."

"You will subtract two." Ami hated commanding her hypnotized patients without setting ground rules ahead of time, but sometimes a hard touch was needed. Doug's subconscious complied and the shadow of his swollen member faded as he shrank slightly. This was insane. This was not happening. Still, perhaps this could solve both their problems.

"Doug, I am going to count back from five. When I have done so, you will begin to wake up."

Slowly turning the violins down, she counted backwards and timed their silence with when she said one. Doug blinked couple times and then slumped forward. "Wow, that was intense. I actually feel bigger."

"That's because you are. I need to discuss something with you. Somehow, my hypnosis is affecting you physically."

Unabashed, he rubbed against his leg and gasped. His eyes snapped up to hers. "Do more, I'll pay you whatever you want if you keep doing what you are doing."

"That's why I woke you up, I wanted to ask if-"

"Look, doc, I don't care if you monkeying around in my head means I end up your sex slave, though that wouldn't honestly be so bad, so long as it means that you make me huge."

Ami felt another thrill travel up her spine. She had used hypnotism to dominate boyfriends in college, but had not done it recently. She had not felt safe enough to do so with one night stands. There was never enough time to undo her suggestions and leaving that programming behind could be dangerous. Now, however, the opportunity was right in front of her.

She rose from her chair and walked to her desk, very much on at this point. "I'll need you to sign a release, typical stuff."

"Anything."

A few minutes later all the necessary forms had been filled out and Ami felt comfortable enough to proceed. Putting Doug back under, she reengaged with his subconsciousness.

"Well then, let us get started. First off, no matter what changes, I will remember everything that happens here."

"So you can put me back, right?"

"Something like that. Now Doug, we're doing something dangerous, so I need you to follow all of my commands without question."

"I understand, I will obey."

"I am going to test that."

"I understand."

"Please bark for me."

He barked right away and she resisted the urge to clap.

"Get down on all fours and chase your tail."

Doug slid off the sofa to his knees on the carpet. He bent over to rest some of his weight on his palms. His arms shook from the unfamiliar exertion, but he crawled in a circle until Ami told him to stop.

"Good. Get back up on the couch and lay down. Now, I want you to visualize your penis, feel it getting hard as blood flows in. I want you keep doing that but once more think about the number six."

"I am thinking about six and my dick."

"Great, I want you to count to ten and then stop." He began to count and her gaze riveted to his crotch.

"Seven. Eight." His tight pants were getting tighter once more.

"Nine. Ten." She could see the ridge of his glans through the fabric of his pants.

So it really was true. His body was responding to her suggestions. Or were they commands at this point? He had been so willing and his subconscious seemed equally compliant. Even her most willing boyfriends had resisted a little bit under hypnosis. Exactly how far could she sculpt him?

"Good, Doug. Now I want you to take off your pants."

He undid the button and slipped them off, kicking them over the arm of the sofa. He was wearing a pair of briefs that were already straining to contain his new, longer erection.

"Excellent. Now, focus on your balls. Put your hands on them. Feel them rubbing against your thighs. Think of how walnuts feel in your hands and feel your balls swelling to match that size. Then think of plums, think of their weight, their heft. Feel those things in your hands as your balls swell larger against your fingers."

The already strained fabric of his briefs meant his that growth was plainly apparent as his balls began to grow in his cupped hands. As they pulsed larger, towards the plum sized, the stretchy fabric was pushed ever further until his waistband was being pulled down. His pelvis was a jungle of dark, curly hair and that gave her an idea.

"Doug, you trim your pubic hair regularly, keeping it neat and groomed."

"That I do."

Before her eyes, the tangle of hair faded to below the waistband. Thinking about how she had phrased her suggestion, had she just made a change to his past?

"You normally wear boxers."

Before he had even acknowledged her suggestion, he was wearing plaid boxers. Freed from constraint, his dick sprang into view through the flap. Even though he was erect, his foreskin had only drawn back a couple of inches, drawing her focus to the bright red skin of his glans. She noticed that while longer, he was not actually all that thick. That certainly would not do.

"I want you to put your hand around your penis, Doug."

He did so.

"I want you to open your hand, slowly. Stop when I tell you."

As he released his grip, his shaft surged to keep up with his fingers. Ami watched as his thumb slipped past his fingers until there was a quarter inch gap. Then a half.

"Okay, Doug, stop for now." He was suitably endowed now, but his exemplary manhood seemed at odds with his over all build.

"I want you to think about your body, Doug. Think about your arms, your shoulders, your chest. Think about your tummy, your butt, and your legs. Lock them into your mind, what number do you see?"

"One. I see a one."

"Add one to that one."

All over, his body bulked up just a little bit.

"Count to five for me, visualizing each larger number washing over you."

"Three." His upper body began to strain against his shirt. Her legs gained definition they lacked before.

"Four." His sleeves were tearing all over, the buttons of his shirt were popping off with each breath. His boxers started to seem as tight as his briefs had been.

"Five." The man lying on her couch now could probably have passed for an amateur athlete. His muscles were not bulky or well defined, but did cause his skin to contour in a way that said he took care of himself. Honestly, the man in her office was now a completely different person than the one who had walked through her door not but an hour ago. She wondered why she had not just changed his past to make him this way. Well, why not craft him a new life and marry it to his new body?

"I was wondering, Doug, is there another name you would want to be called?"

"I've always been partial to Sven. It's such a manly name."

"Then when I finish speaking, you will have always been Sven."

"Understood."

"I want you to bring me your wallet, Sven."

He got up woodenly, as if he was not used to his body. Considering he had been so radically altered, that made sense. He dug into each of his pockets and eventually found his wallet and handed it to her. He remained standing, awaiting a new suggestion.

Ami opened it and, sure enough, his license said Sven Schultz.

"How much do you like exercising, Sven?"

"Not much, though I wish I did."

"If you could be good at any sport, what would it be?" Really that was what she asked? Was this turning into some bizarre date?

"I'd love to be good at biking. There's just something so free seeming about being able to just get on a bicycle and go for ride in the mountains."

"Well, Sven, your wish is about to come true." She looked down at his ID, the picture was still of the man who had entered her office, the man who had ceased to be. "When I finish speaking, you will have grown up a cycling hobbyist. Your body as it is now will be the result of a lifetime of on and off training."

As her suggestive command took hold, his ID changed. His weight increased and the photo morphed to match. The man in the picture now did not have the same haunted look.

"Are you pleased with how you are now, Sven?"

"Yes and no, I could be happy looking like this, but I want to be so much more."

"More, huh? You want to cross into the realms of absurdity? You want to become a sexual fantasy."

"Yes, that is what I desire. Please, don't make me beg any more than this."

Something about the situation pulled at Ami. She was usually in a position of power in her office, but this was something entirely different. In a most unusual way, the life of this client was in her hands. He was clay to her, she could make him into anything. He could be the ideal man she only dreamed of.

If she could have an ideal partner, what would they be like? All things considered, she just wanted a guy with a huge cock who thought with something else once in a while. Her mind flipped through her cases, looking for traits she had found arousing and evaluating them. Slowly a plan came together, as if pieces of her life had been jumbled with her years of clients and cases and dropped into place in a new configuration.

"Sven, if this is truly what you want, I want you to call me Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress." He knelt next to her chair and she had to admit, his shredded shirt made him look suitably masculine. She raised her hand and he grasped her fingers to kiss the back of her wrist. There was no going back now. He was hers and nothing she could dare would be forbidden. What was that line? How much could she change? Could she change herself in context?

"I want to try something. The next set of commands will be undone with the safeword, Lovebirds."

"I understand, Mistress."

"When I finish speaking, you and I will have been dating for six months now. Things are going well." She paused considering her next statements. If they were truths to him, would they change her? Who was the one actually causing these changes?

"Further, I will be better friends with Heather, who is now a mutual friend between us. By time we are introduced I have spent considerable time stretching both my pussy and asshole under her guidance, training myself to be able to...to..."

Just say it dammit! Commit to letting yourself go, just a little, just for a moment.

"Training myself to be able to handle the insanely large dicks I want to fuck! We started having sex on the third date. On top of loving how you fill me, you enjoy eating me out so I take great pains to make sure my ass is safe for oral."

Ami was still for a moment, surprised she had gone that far with her test. Was she hitting on some deep fantasy of hers? She was not sure what to expect, but the sensation of her time line changing was oddly sensual. Memories she knew were new came into being one after another, existing paradoxically with the dating hell that had been her last six months. She remembered meeting Sven at the park as he biked past. Their first date was set up by mutual friend, Heather. Her mind lingered on the first time she went down on him, how it felt to have his larger than average dick in her mouth. The memories of the first time she dominated him had her gasping, as she was slammed with the twin sensations of making him eat her out while fisting her ass.

That brought on the physical changes, as if feeling them made them her reality. A pressure welled up inside her, like a pair of phantom dildos growing ever larger as years of training imprinted themselves on her. Like she was made of taffy, she felt both her ass and pussy widening until she was sure she could comfortably fuck herself with a cucumber. It was not like she just had a pair of big holes either, muscles she never even though of using pulsed and swelled as years of training had built her body into one devoted to over-sized stimulation.