An Oversized Ultimatum- Part 4

I'm really excited about the next chapter (Chapter 5) of this series, so its going to be dropping a little early! Be on the lookout soon:)

Stella blinked again, this time in confusion. She tried to force herself to stay focused on the objectionable information she’d been given instead of the distracting lilt in Christian’s voice when he told her he wanted her completely naked, but after her forced bout of celibacy, compartmentalization was becoming difficult.

“Naked?” she parroted, her inquiry of repetition doing little to get at the information she was really seeking. 

Christian nodded, still staring her down cooly with a glimmer in his eye.

“Yea,” he answered more casually. “Doesn’t that just make sense? How are we gonna know how much you actually weigh if your body is all covered up?”

Stella chewed her lip, considering. The forced submission that Christian had been imposing on her for the last weeks was beginning to permeate every facet of her mind, of her thoughts, of her being. She had a sick sort of anticipation whenever she knew she would be forced to do something she didn’t want to do, when she knew she would have to make a choice that wasn’t in her best interest. Or more accurately, when she knew she had no choice. It was making her worse at opposing Christian, worse at arguing with him. 

Her will was a muscle just like her abs, and they’d both melted away after just a short period of adherence to Christian’s fattening demands. Always saying yes had made her forget how to say no. Always opening her mouth for another bite had made her forget how to tell she was full. Following Christian’s every command, fulfilling his every wish and inclination, all of it made her forget she had her own wants and desires. She wanted what he wanted, and while on a conscious level she was still able to acknowledge that she was beginning to lose herself in Christian, that she was giving him too much power, too much control, her subconscious was growing quite accustomed to the new role she now played in a life story she was no longer writing. 

It still wasn’t as if she wanted to get fat. The thought of gaining any more than 15 pounds still made pinpricks of sweat borne of panic dot her forehead and the situation as a whole still made her so anxious that she wholly preferred to avoid its consideration entirely. But that mental avoidance was simply aiding the process along, making everything go smoothly and just according to Christian’s plans. If she refused to think about what was happening, it meant she was also refusing to take any action to remedy the situation, to do anything about this sudden forced gain other than pretend it wasn’t happening. She could be trying to sneak in home workouts when Christian was in the gym, or trying to toss his meals down the garbage disposal, or pretend to be eating when she wasn’t, but that kind of sneaking around would require an acknowledgment of why she had to take those covert steps in the first place, and that would mean acknowledging her gain. Anything that kept her in the blissful state of partial ignorance produced by her world-class denial was good enough for Stella, and the thought that she’d actually have to deal with her new body, or have a conversation with Christian, or god forbid, gain any more weight after the first 15 pounds was enough to make her heart start thrumming and her palms grow sweaty. The future was an inevitability, there was nothing Stella could do to stop that. And one of the three options, all things she was terrified of, would have to happen. She’d either have to face herself in the mirror,  take charge, and get back on her routine, have a conversation with Christian and convince him to let her stop gaining, or gain more weight. Action would have to be taken. And the thought made her sick. 

“Umm,” Stella stalled, her increasing laziness impacting even the swiftness and dexterity of her mind. “Well. I feel like-”

Christian held up a hand and Stella snapped her mouth shut, well trained over the last few weeks to immediately cease her arguments and listen when he spoke.

“Stella, are your clothes a part of your body? Yes or no?”

She sighed, sitting up more fully and rubbing sleep from her eyes. Christian had begun talking to her this way lately, and despite the inherent condensation in the structure and nature of the questions, she found that she almost liked them. Stella was intelligent, or at least intelligent enough, and Christian knew that well, however he had recently taken up a tone with her when he told her what to do that made it seem as if she was incapable of thinking for herself, as if she needed him to break down every element of even the simplest instructions so that she could fully understand why she had to do what she was told. So he could make her admit that obeying him was in her best interest, that it was only logical. 

It was patronizing. He was talking to her like she was a belligerent child and he was older, wiser, and most importantly, as patient as she needed him to be. He acted like poor dumb Stella couldn't understand, but thankfully he was smart enough to explain it to her in a way her little brain can handle. It should’ve been insulting. It was, in fact. But the impact of that jab was well offset by how much it turned Stella on.

The excitement felt inexplicable to her, felt as illogical as the whole situation in the first place. But in the same way she was powerless to explain exactly how and why Christian’s dominance had the effect on her that it did, she was equally clueless about the surprising effectiveness of this new form of manipulation. He would slowly lead her through choices with overly obvious logic that served whatever goal he had, and Stella would be forced to produce each answer and eventually agree that she should do whatever it was Christian was asking, usually stuffing herself so far past her captivity she was gasping with pain, her gut so tightly overfilled that even writhing around on the couch was agony. 

Despite the fact that she’d never admit it to him (unless he forced her to), she enjoyed their fabricated little dance. She enjoyed being led by him, having two options with an obvious choice and being rewarded for saying the thing he knew he wanted her to. It was the way she was finally able to relinquish control, something she’d never truly done before, that was really getting to her, but again, the delicate balance could not be disturbed. She couldn’t admit that without admitting a myriad of other less-than-desirable elements of the situation, meaning she was forced to wonder why Christian’s slightly sweet, slightly strict commands, his dominant tones, and his tight grips on her wrist left her panties so soaked. 

“No,” she finally replied. “My clothes are not a part of my body.”

“And do we wanna know how much you weigh, or do we wanna know how much your clothes weigh?”

She let out another belabored sigh.

“How much I weigh.”

“So, if your clothes are a part of your body, and we only wanna know how much your body weighs, what should we do with the clothes? Huh?” he prompted, giving her a little poke in her perpetually bloated middle that made her groan. “Should we leave your clothes on your body, or take them off your body? Which do you think, baby?”

“Take them off my body,” Stella mumbled, looking away.

“Good girl,” he said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him, repeating the knee-melting phrase as soon as his steely eyes were locked into hers. “Good girl.”

Stella swallowed hard and tried to hold his gaze, her stomach suddenly transmuted in function and now apparently serving as an enclosure for thousands of excitable butterflies.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praised, the flush on Stella’s face intensifying with every word. “You're such a smart girl, aren’t you baby?”

He dropped his face a little closer to hers, the heat coming off his body making Stella’s exposed skin feel alight. 

“You’re such an obedient girl. Such a good listener, aren’t you?”

Stella was frozen, every cell in her body screaming for Christian’s touch but the last two weeks leaving her all too familiar with the torture of being brought right to the precise of what she wanted just to have it all snatched away by Christian’s strong but seemingly ever eroding self-control. When he got like this Stella didn’t even wanna kiss him, barely wanted to be in the same room as him, because she knew how the whole thing would end. With Christian finally tearing himself away from her before he was able to tear off the majority of her clothes. With her on the verge of tears because of how frustrated and desperate she was, how worked up she got each time things went just a few gropes and tongue bites too far. With both of them needing to take care of themselves, although, like with everything in her new life, Stella’s job was made far more difficult by her constant state of overfullness. The whole thing was driving her crazy. 

It wasn’t just that she wanted Christian, that she could stand. It wasn’t just that she missed him. It wasn’t even just the fact that she hadn’t gotten laid in almost three weeks. It was the knowledge that there was an entirely new Christian for her to enjoy, an updated and upgraded version of the man she loved for years, and she couldn't have him. It was like buying a shiny new phone, leaving it on the counter still cradled by its packaging, and then forgoing the use of your old phone as well. 

She wanted the new Christian. She wanted the dominant Christian. She had brought him out with her actions, her constant stuffing and her still-moderate gain, and she wanted to reap the rewards of the new persona she’d produced. She wanted to get fucked by the Christian who treated her like a dumb little bunny that had to be taken care of, by the Christian that raised his voice at her and forced her to obey him whether she liked it or not. He was right in front of her, his hands on her body, and she couldn’t have him. It was deeply and truly maddening, and Stella didn’t feel like she could put herself through the craze-inducing torment for much longer.

“I asked you a question, Stella,” Christian warned, one of his most repeated phrases of late. “Are you an obedient girl? A good listener?”

“Yes,” Stella attempted in a voice that barely reached a croaking whisper. 

“Yea?” Christian asked, one side of his mouth lifting into a dizzyingly alluring smirk and smug as it was genuinely mirthful. 

“Yea,” Stella repeated more quietly, squeezing her eyes shut so she didn’t have to try and take him in while holding on to her mental faculties. 

Her bravery bolstered by her self-imposed darkness, she bit her lip again before opening her mouth. 

“Well,” she began, at this point knowing better than to start a sentence with the word ‘but’, the argument in her words too obvious and therefore immediately shut down by Christian. “Well, it’s just that I’ve already gained so much,” she continued, eyelids still pressed firmly closed.

Christian chuckled. 

“Why are you doing that?” he asked, the grin in his deep voice evident. 

“I’ve already gained a lot of weight,” Stella pressed on, ignoring him. “And if I take off the sweatsuit before the weigh-in, it just means I have to gain even more.”

“Right,” Christian confirmed, obviously humoring her. 

“So it just seems like.” 

Stella paused, collecting her thoughts. She’d never had this much trouble articulating herself before. 

“It seems like that’s more of a punishment for you than it is for me, right?”

Christian’s chuckle devolved into a full-out laugh and Stella had to stop herself from smiling, the sound of his laugh enough to make her want to giggle right alongside him. 

“How so?” Christian finally asked as his laughing wound down. “How is this more of a punishment for me?”

“Well, because,” Stella said, her brain working as quickly as it could these days. “Because. You want me to gain weight so I’m not attractive to other guys, so they don’t pay any attention to me. But the bigger I get the less attracted you’ll be to me too, and so really all of this is only working against you. Right?” she asked, suddenly unsure after several beats of silence.

“Stella. Open your eyes.”

She did as she was told, blinking in the light once more, and found Christian staring her down with that inarticulable look that had been a frequent visitor to his expression of late, a hint of a smile on his face and his eyes filled with want. 

“This isn’t a punishment for me. It-” 

He stopped, his face twisting a bit almost as if he was in pain. 

“The only punishment is trying to keep my hands off you till you gain the first 15.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “God, it’s like the fucking death penalty. He looked back down at her, stopping to bring his face even closer to hers. “This isn’t a punishment, ok? I wouldn’t have suggested it if it was. I wouldn’t be doing all this if it wasn’t the hottest situation I’ve ever experienced in my life. I want this. I want you to get fat. I like it.”

Stella’s eyebrows were knitted together, captured in a confusion so all-consuming that forming a response didn’t even cross her mind as an option.

“I mean, Stella, why do you think I’m always getting so worked up? Why do you think it’s been so difficult for me to control myself? Why I need to leave the room when you get dressed and why I can’t kiss you for more than a couple minutes? I’ve always been insanely attracted to you, but this is a different level. This,” he said, gesturing to her body, “is what I’ve always wanted. Always. And I can’t stand not being able to have you.”

“You like it?” Stella finally repeated, still stuck on his original statement. “You like that I got fat?”

“I like that you gained weight,” Christian corrected with a smile. “You’re not even close to fat yet. You’re not even close to the size I really want you. The size I fantasize about you being.”

“Seriously?” Stella breathed, her head too full for her thoughts to race. 

“Seriously. I want you with fat rolls bulging over your waistband. I want you spilling out of all your clothes and bursting out of those sweatsuits, I want you so fat that when I take you from behind your belly hangs down and wobbles with every thrust. I want your ass tearing seams on your panties and your tits to start popping your poor little bras open. I want you huge. And I wanna ravish every inch of you once you are. 

He sighed again. 

“The only punishment I’m facing is waiting for you to get big enough for me to spread you apart again. I promise,” he added after another moment of her stunned silence. 

“I didn’t know when to tell you that,” he went on. “Or even if I should tell you. But I promise you Stella, you never, never need to be concerned about my attraction to you. The only thing you need to be concerned about is how you're gonna walk after you finally put on enough weight for me to wreck you.” 

Stella’s breath hitched in her throat and Christian trademark smirk returned. What he said horrified her. The mental image was repugnant. But the way he said it, the desire dripping stickily from his words and animalistic lust clearly barely contained beneath their permeable surfaces, made her body come alive and all her senses stand at attention. 

He gave her a kiss on the forehead and then stood, extending a hand. 

“Come on, it’s weigh-in time. “And pick up those chips, you remember the rules.  I want you eating. At all times.”