When He Tells You To Grow...

This story was a request from a friend and features muscle growth with a little splash of hypnosis. I hope you all enjoy it! That's me done for February's stories finally, so I can hopefully take a few days break before beginning to work on things for April.

A deep grunt escaped Patrick’s lips as he returned the loaded barbell to the rack at the end of his tenth rep. Chest day was always his favourite day of the week and despite the dull ache that came from nearly two hours of intensive work on his pecs, he also felt a familiar sense of pride. Hitting new personal bests always put him in a good mood, and he was unloading more plates than ever from the barbell on that particular day.

He could already tell that he had a good pump on, but it was fully confirmed once he’d wiped down the bench and returned to the locker room, where he was able to get a good look at himself and snap his traditional post-workout selfie. He was well practised in hitting the pose that best showed off his pecs, it was practically second nature to him after years of working on his physique. He’d even amassed a small following on his social media channels who weren’t shy about letting him know just how much they approved of his progress pics and, in particular, how delighted they were to see his beautiful furry pecs and the paw print tattoo that some of the louder followers had even gone so far as to dub ‘iconic’.

While Patrick didn’t mind the attention his pictures got on social media, he was resolute in the knowledge that he wasn’t training for the approval of anybody other than himself. He didn’t plan on starting an OnlyFans or getting his followers to gift him things from an online wishlist. He’d be on the same journey even if he had zero followers and it was because he personally dreamed of getting bigger. It was something he’d wanted for as long as he could remember, possibly brought on by years of watching superhero cartoons and action anime series where the protagonists were huge and muscular. That physical ideal had settled in his mind a desire for his own future, and he was taking the steps to make that a reality.

After posting his latest post-workout selfie to Twitter and Instagram and including the caption #GottaKeepGrowing, Patrick finally began changing back into his regular clothes. Between work and then the gym he’d already had a busy day, but it wasn’t quite over yet. He had enough time to get back home, drop his bag off and shower before he’d be back out the door to attend a blind date that he’d been set up on by Elise, the perky blonde who worked the desk at the gym. They had become fast friends after Patrick had transferred from his previous training ground, and he’d eventually confessed to her that he was on the lookout for a boyfriend. It wasn’t as if he was desperate or anything, but he was a red blooded male and wanted something a little more than anonymous Grindr hookups. He wanted a man who could offer both great sex and soothing cuddles, who could offer pain and pleasure in equal measure. Was that really too much to ask for? Apparently so, because all of Patrick’s dates since coming to that realisation had ended miserably, but Elise seemed confident about the guy she was setting him up with, and he trusted her enough to keep optimistic.

The address she had given Patrick was for a restaurant in the classier district of the city and a glance at the menu confirmed his suspicions that the bill would hit his wallet like a bullet, but she had waved off his concerns. “Your date is paying for it all,” she insisted, “He told me himself. You’ve got a gentleman on your hands, he’s not going to run off and stick you with the cost, if that’s what you’re worried about!”

The revelation had caused the wheels in Patrick’s mind to start turning but she resisted all of his attempts to probe her for further details on his mystery man. Left to his own devices, he couldn’t help but construct an internal approximation: probably older and with a well-paying job if he was able to swallow such a steep price for a first date, and ideally big and burly, maybe with some thick facial hair peppered with silver hairs. Okay, so maybe Patrick was just thinking of his dream guy and setting his expectations a little too high, but he was an eternal optimist and a hopeless romantic, so it was in his nature.

Once he was home and freshly showered, the young man took some time to carefully consider his outfit for the evening. Eventually he settled on a black dress shirt that beautifully hugged his pecs, of which he left the top three buttons undone, and dark grey jeans that sat tight around his quads and calves but also more importantly left little to the imagination when it came to his manhood. Plus it made his ass look great and after his chest it was perhaps his favourite feature of himself, so making sure his derriere looked delectable was always a priority.

A few splashes of cologne on his neck and forearms later and Patrick was good to go! The typical first date nerves were creeping in like creatures of the night but he didn’t let them overwhelm him; getting caught up in those feelings would only lead to a disastrous night and he was actually hoping for something good instead.

The only instruction Elise had given Patrick was that he was to text her once he had arrived at the restaurant. He did so, and the reply came quick: Ask for Cavanaugh. He’d barely had time to read the message before one of the hosts was greeting him and asking if he’d be dining with others or alone. “Uh, I’m here to meet Cavanaugh?” he explained, shoving his cell phone back into his pocket.

At the mere mention of the name, the host - a handsome, if skinny, redheaded man - stood up a little straighter and nodded. “But of course. Please follow me, sir!” he requested, before sharply turning and taking long strides deeper into the restaurant. Patrick hurried to keep step with him and was led to a small booth in the furthest corner of the establishment. The lighting was warm and inviting and the soothing jazz playing over the restaurant’s speakers matched its visual aesthetic to create a perfectly pleasant environment, almost like something out of a dream.

The booth was empty but the waiter motioned him to be seated nonetheless. “Mr Cavanaugh will be with you shortly, he’s just conversing with the chef. I’ll bring over a drink for you while you wait,” he proclaimed, leaving Patrick no time to even make a request before turning on his heel and striding towards the bar.

Although somewhat perturbed by the waiter’s stiff behaviour, he was delighted by how plush the cushioning of the booth’s seats were and the table itself was absolutely pristine. He had no doubt that the staff were under serious pressure from their manager to maintain the restaurant’s high standards and he certainly didn’t envy them - any kind of work with the public was rough, but especially so when dealing with the calibre of folks who could actually afford to eat at such a place!

Patrick had barely settled in by the time the waiter returned with two glasses and a bottle of white wine. The taste of peaches swam in Patrick’s mouth for a minute after his first sip, and he felt as if sparks were flooding through his body. Excitement? Nerves? Arousal? It was hard to tell. Thankfully he wasn’t given long to dwell on it, as almost as soon as the waiter stepped away he was replaced by another man who seated themselves across the booth from him.

Patrick drank in the sight of the new arrival and certainly wasn’t disappointed: the man stood somewhere just over six-feet tall and had the build of an athlete with broad shoulders and thick arms. His hair was dark and cut short, a stark contrast to Patrick’s own flowing locks, and his facial hair was neatly trimmed, as were his eyebrows. There was no doubting this was a man who took the time to care for his appearance. He appeared to be slightly older too, perhaps in his early to mid thirties and carried himself with a confidence that only a man with life experience could exude.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” the man declared, holding his hand out across the table. “Our mutual friend certainly wasn’t lying when she said you were an attractive man.” Although Patrick was pleased by the strong grip that greeted him when he grasped the offered hand, it was the man’s accent that really captured his attention.

“You’re British?” the younger man remarked in surprise, pulling his hand back with some reluctance when the man loosened his grip.

“For today, at least,” his blind date replied in cryptic fashion, his full lips spreading into a smirk. “Does the accent bother you?”

“Not at all!” Patrick hurried to exclaim, although he was still bewildered by his date’s strange response to the question. “It’s nice! Different from what I was expecting. Refreshing, I suppose.” It wasn’t just the man’s accent that had interested him, but also the deep bass of his voice and the certainty in his tone. “You’re a long way from home.”

The man poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle, then topped up Patrick’s own glass before deigning to reply. “Oh, home’s closer than you might think,” he answered in the same cryptic manner, “I like to travel, and my business means I have the luxury of making myself at home wherever I want.” He took a long sip from his glass, savoured the taste, then returned it to the table. “Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. My name’s Henry. Henry Cavanaugh.”

As Patrick introduced himself in turn, Henry dragged a finger around the rim of his wine glass and the younger man was strangely captivated by the action. It seemed to call to him, like he was a moth being drawn towards a flame, and he was momentarily so caught up that the world around him seemed to vanish until his date let out a low chuckle. “Oh, s-sorry about that,” Patrick stammered out, his pale cheeks flushing with colour. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” his date assured him. “I merely asked what it is you do for a living.” As Patrick delivered his response though, his date returned to dragging the tip of his finger around that glass rim. Why was it so damn mesmerising? The older man asked a few more questions, making easy small talk, and Patrick did his best to answer them - honestly of course - but his eyes were always drawn back to Henry’s finger dancing around the top of the wine glass. The repeated circular motion was practically hypnotising, clearing everything out of Patrick’s mind except that present moment and whatever was being asked of him.

“What is it you desire most, Patrick?” Henry’s voice rang through the fog within Patrick’s mind with absolute clarity. Under any other circumstance the younger man would have offered a half-truth, but in his enthralled state there was no holding back the truth. Sure, he wanted a promotion with a significant pay rise and he wanted a boyfriend who could cuddle him to sleep at night, but there was something he wanted more than both of those things.

“I want to get bigger,” he declared sincerely. “I know my muscles are pretty good right now, but I’d love to get even bigger.” A series of images flashed through his mind: the huge bodybuilders whose social media accounts he found such pleasure in. He wanted enough size to rival theirs. Perhaps even more. He wanted to be the biggest guy in his gym without any chance of competition! Sure, he was still a long way off but maybe with a few more years of training and serious care for his food intake…

“Not money, not fame, not influence?” his date inquired, the corners of his lips turning up into a devilish smirk. His fingers still traced the edge of his wine glass, and his dark eyes bore deep into the younger man’s soul.

“No sir, only to get bigger,” Patrick confirmed. Sure, all that other stuff would be great, but it didn’t excite him the way just thinking about becoming a muscle beast did. In fact, having a huge body could help lead to those three things, and didn’t folks say that the journey was the most rewarding part of reaching a destination?

Henry’s finger stopped moving around the glass and Patrick’s gaze instantly snapped up to the older man’s eyes and was locked there as he spoke: “Then grow.”

Patrick wasn’t quite sure what happened. All of his muscles seemed to tense at once and he felt an incredible strain that lasted for several seconds before his body finally relaxed again. He took a moment to catch his breath; it felt like he had just completed a whole two-hour workout within a couple of seconds! “Wh-what was that?” he stammered out once he had finally found his voice. His blind date just continued to smirk.

“I’m helping you get what you want,” the older man explained, “I’m helping you grow.”

As soon as the word had left Henry’s lips Patrick was once again overwhelmed by the sensation of all his muscles stiffening as one. It lasted barely five seconds and yet he was panting for breath when it was over.

This time though, he noticed something a little off: his clothes didn’t sit quite as comfortably on his frame anymore. He’d picked a shirt that he knew would make his muscles ‘pop’ but now it was almost embarrassingly tight, like he’d dressed with something to prove. Did it shrink? Or did I…

“Grow.”

A grunt escaped Patrick’s lips as he was hit by a third wave of that strange phenomenon. Even though his gaze continues to be locked with Henry’s steel grey eyes, the younger man knew what was happening to him. He could feel the fabric of his shirt and his jeans straining as the muscles trapped within expanded - perhaps only an inch or so, but enough to push the garments to their very limits.

The tightness was causing some minor discomfort and Patrick grimaced, but his body was also having another physical response. The expansion of his quad and glute muscles weren’t the only thing causing his pants to tighten, as the bulging at his crotch conveyed the pleasure he found in the remarkable experience. The thought of growing bigger and stronger had always held something of an arousing quality in his mind, but he couldn’t have possibly prepared for just how good it would feel for those fantasies to become a reality!

“Grow.”

PING! The button that had been barely keeping his shirt contained over his pecs hit its limit and flew across the table, rocketing past Henry’s head. The older man just chuckled.

PING! PING! PING! Several more buttons followed suit as his chest became simply too much for the shirt to handle and his powerful torso forced itself free. Patrick had always been proud of his pecs but now there was a whole lot more to be proud of! The two massive slabs of muscle were accompanied by a perfect display of cobblestone abs with deep valleys of definition separating each abdominal muscle.

The buttons weren’t the only sacrifice that his shirt was forced to make - the seams around his shoulders split as he broadened out and his deltoids flared out like the mighty wings of an angel. Splits formed down the back of his shirt as his back followed suit, becoming a huge canvas of muscular artwork that simply couldn’t be contained in anything less than a size XXL.

The tensing of his upper arms caused further tears in the fabric and his biceps burst through the fragile cotton, exploding forth like mountain peaks of power. His triceps were similarly bulging, further expanding the circumference of his arms to a massive eighteen inches! Even his forearms thickened, forcing the tears to travel right down to the cuffs and exposing the lean muscle beneath.

“Grow.”

Patrick’s jeans were the next item to be sacrificed as his quads flared out and simply refused to be trapped within the fabric constraints any longer. The seams burst with ease under the massive expansion and his legs were forced out further apart in his seated position as the powerful muscles made their presence known to each other. The seam that ran down between his ass cheeks split too as the already impressive globes became even further sculpted, like he’d completed a thousand squats a day since he was old enough to work out. Even his boxers were shredded by the expansion, and the action in the front was only mirroring what was happening to the rest of his body. He was painfully hard and his shaft felt fuller, thicker and longer than it had ever been. It seemed like every part of him was growing bigger, and more sensitive too!

Patrick’s feet - now longer and wider - broke free from their own imprisonment, while his neck grew thicker and his trap muscles rose to form perfect ski slopes down to his wide shoulders. Even his hands became bigger, with thicker digits and calloused palms from years of heavy lifting. Invisible hands at his head and feet had pulled in opposing directions, stretching him out to a more fitting height for his titanesque physique.

All throughout his transformation Patrick’s eyes had remained trapped by Henry’s watchful gaze, but he had been able to feel every little change that his body had endured and it had left him throbbing in delight. He was huge! The chair was even creaking under his massive increase in weight - he had to be almost a hundred pounds heavier and almost seen feet tall!

“How do you feel?” Henry asked, bringing his wine glass up to his lips and taking a sip. The motion seemed to break whatever spell had locked Patrick in place and he realised he was once again capable of moving, although it felt strange given his added bulk. He rolled his shoulders and rolled his head from side to side, prompting small pops from within, like he was some uber-masculine hero from an action film.

“Incredible. Huge,” he responded in a voice that he still recognised to be his own, only with a little more bass to it. “How did you do it?” Somehow Henry had increased Patrick to his dream size - no bigger and no smaller. It should have been an impossibility and yet he was living proof that it wasn’t.

“If I told you that, I’d have to shrink you back down,” the other replied, his tone suggesting that he was teasing, but the dangerous glimmer in his eyes perhaps hinting otherwise. “And neither of us want that, do we?” Patrick had the impression he was like a deer standing right in the line of sight of a carnivorous predator and that made him feel a little nervous, even despite the fact he could easily outpower Henry - or anyone else in the restaurant or his own gym, for that matter.

“No sir,” the massive bodybuilder confirmed. He looked down at himself and the rags that were hanging off of his body. They hadn’t stood a chance against the massive growth he’d endured. “I guess I’m not exactly dressed for a date right n--”

He was cut off by the sound of Henry tapping his wine glass, and a familiar warmth began to spread across Patricks body. This time the transformation wasn’t affecting him, but rather his clothes, and he watched in delight as the rags reformed into something more fitting for his body.

While still not typical date-wear, the compression gear that his old shirt and jeans became was much better at showing off his powerful muscles in a manner that was sexy without being ridiculous. Once the changes were complete, he returned to meet the hungry look in his date’s eyes.

“Now,” the other man began, his wolfish gaze tracing across Patrick’s muscles and sending a shiver of anticipation and delight through the colossal wall of muscle, “How about I help you get acquainted with your new size?”

Given how turned on he was from his transformation, Patrick was eager to agree. He’d have to remember to thank Elise for setting him up with the other man. This was hands down the best first date he’d ever had - and certainly not one he’d ever forget!