An Oversized Ultimatum- Part 3

Stella felt the pressure in her middle before she was even fully aware that she was awake and immediately burped loudly, memories of Christian’s most recent force-feeding rushing back to her all at once as she opened her eyes. Her middle still ached and she pressed a hand to it gingerly, afraid of jostling its content with too much pressure. 

“You’re awake,” came Christian's voice from beside her, and Stella immediately flushed red, mortified that he’d heard and seen her burp like that. 

The tv was quietly playing a football game whose opponents Christian followed closely and Stella couldn't name on a good day, and she was stretched out across the middle of the sectional as she had been the night before, Christian at the far left end with her socked feet resting in his lap as they often did when the couple had movie nights. She smiled slightly at the familiar, intimate feeling, then frowned, remembering why she’d been napping on the couch in the first place. 

Christian grabbed the remote and flicked the screen to darkness, lifting both her feet and setting them down gently on the soft cushions before standing brusquely. 

“You ready?” he asked, already extending a hand to her.

“Ready-” Stella croaked out in a warble, sleep still weighing down her voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Ready for what?”

“Ready for your weigh-in,” he answered simply, hand still extended. 

Stella sat up more fully, her heart taking up that familiar pace that Christian’s actions and attitude had elicited over the last few days. 

“I don't,” she started slowly, attempting to choose her words carefully. “I don't really know if now is the best time because-”

She gasped as Christian grabbed her bicep and hauled her to her feet in one swift motion, effortlessly lifting her to a standing position with just one arm and pulling her close. 

“What happened the last time you talked back?” he asked, his voice pleasant enough but fire flaring playfully behind his eyes. 

She allowed him to lead her up the stairs without protest, lulled into silence by her less-than-illuminating car auctions of how exactly Christian had wrapped her around his finger this tightly. Just one little display of his strength over her and his ability to control her, one comment made in a certain sharp tone, and suddenly she was once again going against her own interests, doing something she had absolutely no desire to do just because he’d told her to. 

But it was worse than that, more complex. It wasn't that she did it because he said, it was that she began to want it because it was what he wanted. She wanted to fulfill his wishes, to make him pleased with her, proud of her. She wanted it more than she wanted the normalcy she kept fighting for, and every reminder that Christian had completely taken the reins left her as confused as she was desperate for him. 

He walked her into their room and then their bathroom, stopping in front of the slim metal scale that Stella typically used more often than other other household appliance. He let go of her arm and pushed her another step closer to the now frightening device, Stella instinctively taking a step back and bumping lightly into Christian in her trepidation.

Stella was terrified, more so than she’d been the entire duration of Christian’s new unexpected and all-powerful household dictatorship. What was once her favorite part of the day, the validation that she so deeply craved that she was continually getting smaller, continually taking up less and less space, was now going to expose the damage she'd done in just a matter of a few days. 

Stella was fastidious about her weigh-in routine and typically didn't eat solid food after 7 pm in order to ensure that her early morning weigh-in was on an empty stomach. She’d also discovered more recently that the more dehydrated she was, the less she weighed and the flatter her already sculpted stomach seemed, so her recent habit of also limiting her water intake after 7 pm had brought her to new lows she was exuberantly proud of, weighing less than she had in as long as she could remember and feeling more and more of the signs of her victory: looser clothes, colder skin, and the like. 

Stella hadn’t weighed herself without putting at least 8 hours between her last meal and the scale, and she was terrified of the inflated number she knew she was sure to see. It wasn't just the fact that even in two days it was possible that Christian’s new diet had made her gain a little weight, but it was the fact that all of those stuffings would be well and readily reflected on the scale she once cherished. It would be concrete, irrefutable evidence that Christian’s plan was working, that he was destroying her body and ruining all the hard work she’d put in for her entire adult life. 

The thought, even in the face of her conflicted feelings about Christian’s new attitude, was simply reprehensible, and Stella was finally prepared to drop the facade, finally spurred on to put an end to all this despite her desire for him and for his steady-handed control. 

She looked up into his dark eyes, feeling vaguely faint. 

“I don't know if-” she began, and Christian cut her off with a point. 

“Step on the scale,” he instructed. 

“Wait, babe, really,” she said, turning to face him more fully and taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself before making her case. “I get it, I do, and I understand that you don’t trust me right now and I understand that you’re upset, but I really really-”

“Stella, this is not a discussion,” he interjected. “This is what you’re gonna do. I’m gonna track your progress so I can know exactly how much I need to be feeding you for you to start putting on weight. I wanna know exactly where we began so I can compare it to the blob I'm gonna turn you into.”

Stella felt tears press urgently against the backs of her eyes at his assertion, the word ‘blob’ just a bridge too far for the already emotional wreck that she had become over the past two days. Her chest was pounding and she felt herself growing frantic, felt the emotions she’d kept barely concealed bubble up and reach their boiling point. 

“Christian, can we stop all this for a second?” she burst out, her voice laden with emotion. “Can we just pause and be normal, please? I really, really don’t wanna do this, I think this has all gone too far, ok? I learned my lesson, I swear. I’m not going to take you for granted anymore. I’m going to stop going out and spend more time with you, I swear. I’m gonna make it up to you, I’m gonna make you trust me again. We really don’t have to do this.”

He eyed her cooly through her meltdown and nodded as she finished, as her hysteria reached its peak. Then he leaned in and kissed her deeply, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her body into his as Stella melted into his touch, a touch she’d been craving so desperately she could hardly contain herself. 

She reached up to throw her arms around his neck and give him more access to her, more room to run his hands down her body and lift her shirt over her head as would typically be his next steps. She wanted to wind herself about him, wholly desired for every part of her to be as close to him as possible, for the intermingling of their beings and desires until they were left in a sweaty tangle of sheets, the afterglow of love still coloring both of their faces with a light flush. 

The feeling of Christian’s large, powerful hands around her waist was quickly making Stella lose her composure, and Christian stepping forward to press her back into the wall and pin her there for him to continue to kiss made her knees give out, her body barely budging because of how tightly he was holding her, how his desire to explore every inch of her lips literally kept her upright. 

His hands snaked their way under her sweatshirt and a moan slipped from between Stella's lips and into Christian’s open mouth as his hands on her bare flesh were reminiscent of the hundreds of times he'd taken her, sometimes right in that bathroom in which they stood. 

He pulled back and Stella whimpered, lifting her face towards his again in the hopes that he’d once more meet her lips. Instead he studied her, an expression interpolating lust, compassion, and another emotion Stella couldn't quite identify coloring his face. 

“I know you’re scared baby,” he whispered gently. “I know. But you don’t need to be scared. I love you, I’m doing this to you because I love you. And I know you. I’ve always felt like all your aversions to food, your obsession with maintaining a certain body type, it all stems from the fact that you’re scared to admit that you love to eat. That you don't want to limit yourself and restrict yourself, that you wouldn't mind if you were a little bit bigger. I think your subconscious is fully aware of those things and that's why you fight so hard against them. It's why you’ve made your entire life, hell, your entire personality, about being thin.”

Stella pouted a bit, unsurprised but still less than pleased to learn that Christian felt her entire personality revolved around her diminutive stature and mentally refusing to assess the rest of his statement. 

“I’ve seen the way you’ve reacted to all this Stella,” he said, as if he knew she was ignoring his main point. “I see the look in your eyes when I tell you what to do, I watched the way your body reacted every time I fed you. You want this. Even if you won’t say it.”

Stella pressed her lips together firmly, already forming her argument.

“I don’t want you to say anything,” Christian told her, that now familiar lilt re-entering his tone. “I want you to do what I told you to do. I know what's best, I know what you really want, and that's what you’re gonna do Stella.”

“I don't want this,” she rushed out defiantly. “I don't. You don’t know me the way you think you do if you genuinely believe I'd actually wanna get fat.”

“And yet,” said Christian, taking a step backward to give Stella room to step on the scale. “That's what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna step on the scale right now, and in two days when you step on it again, you're gonna weigh more. And more. And more. Until I'm done with you. Until I'm truly satisfied. That's what's gonna happen whether you like it or not, whether you claim you want it or not. Step on the scale.”

Stella just shook her head, her avenues of argumentation depleted but her unwillingness to cede holding strong. 

“Get on the scale before I put you there.”

She shook her head again. 

“You have one more chance to follow my instructions before I go downstairs and get another pint of ice cream.”

He fixed her with a hard look. 

“And I'll force you, Stella. I’m bigger than you and stronger than you and I'll force it down your throat just to remind you what happens when you talk back.”

Stella felt her breath hitch in her throat and took a minuscule step forward, her stomach clenching at the thought of hearing the certainly higher number read aloud but her knees weakening anew at Christian’s threats. 

She took another step forward in the small space and was directly in front of the less-than-inviting square of glass again, praying that somehow the number would be as low as it unusually was. She finally stepped upon it, the usually cheerful beeping of its calculation taking on an ominous, sinister tone as she waited for the number that would crush her. 

“124.5,” Christian reported evenly, and Stella felt like throwing up.

She hadn't weighed an ounce over 119 in the past three years, and preferred numbers in the slightly lower teens, 117 being her favorite. She’d weighed 118.2 the day before Justin began all this, which meant she'd gained over 6 pounds in two days. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs but instead jumped backward as if the scale was hot, as if it were her feet being burned instead of her ego. 

“Christian, that’s- that's,” she stuttered, unable to produce the words she was searching for. “I can't do this, that’s insane!” she finally cried. “That's insane.”

“Baby. “Be calm,” Christian reassured evenly. “It's water weight, it's not fat. It will be, eventually, but for now, it's just the fact that you’ve eaten more today than you normally do in a week, it's not how much weight you’ve actually gained.”

Stella glared at him, aware that his logic was correct but insistent on expressing her anger that was quickly growing into rage.  

“This is over Christian, right now. Do you know how long it's gonna take me to lose all this?” 

She lifted up her sweatshirt and turned to the mirror, her still bloated belly still lightly protruding from her otherwise thin frame. 

“I look like a fucking cow, I look like I’m pregnant,” she complained, giving herself a once over before dropping the hem of her sweatshirt in disgust. “You’re being insane,” she informed him decidedly, “You're being ridiculous, and-”

“Lunch is in 30 minutes,” Christian interrupted. “I’m ordering delivery. I want you down in 5 so you can start off with your snacks before it gets here,” and with that he turned heel and left, Stella’s anger diffused by her confusion at Christian’s lack of acknowledgment. 

Finally left alone with her thoughts, Stella's brain suddenly felt fuzzy, felt as if she’d been flipping between mental channels too quickly and found herself stuck on a station only showing static. 

She didn't want this. Or did she? Was Christian right, was all of her obsession just an underlying fear of what she really wished she could have? It was impossible, the thought of being bigger was reprehensible to her, but what did he see that she didn't? 

He was certainly correct in some of his assessments, despite the fact that Stella wasn't exactly able to articulate the reason. She did have outsized reactions to his domineering commands, to his forceful instructions and the way he tossed her around like she was a ragdoll, like he was in charge of her. But she wasn't sure why. Was it just the fact that she’d always secretly wanted Christian to be more dominant, or was it because of what he was choosing to be dominant about? Theoretically, it shouldn't matter if Stella was inherently attracted to domination, if she didn't want to get fat, she wouldn't have conflicted feelings about the whole thing. 

She wandered out of the bedroom and sat on their bed, her mind falling languidly back into thoughts of her and Christian’s last tryst there. She missed him so much, wanted him so badly, and the little taste he’d given her in the bathroom only made the matter more pressing. 

He really isn't going to give this up, she decided, reflecting on the multiple emotional attempts she’d made to derail this force-feeding train. He doesn't care if I get sad, he doesn't care if I get angry, he's just not giving up. He won’t. 

The thought almost excited her, the knowledge that he couldn't be deterred, that no matter what she said or didn't say, he would stop. She stood up, unsure of exactly why she was doing so, and found herself walking down the stairs as if in a trance. She reached the landing, hesitated, then continued, feeling as if she were entering into a legal agreement, singing some unholy contract that bound her to Christian’s twisted desires. 

She reached the kitchen where Christian had already set a packet of cookies in front of the center island chair and sat down quietly, the only sound the crinkling of the package as she opened it. 

Christian turned and smiled at her broadly. 

“Good girl,” he praised. “I’m proud of you.”

Stella felt butterflies stir within her and she blushed, shoving another cookie into her mouth in an effort to disguise her reaction. At least for now, she was going to go along with all this. At least for now, she was going to eat as much as Christian wanted her to. 

Stella woke up ravenous, a more and more common occurrence in the last few weeks, and she immediately fumbled blindly for the bag of chips she’d failed to finish the night before that she’d left sitting on her bedside table. She unfurled the bag and shoved a handful of greasy chips into her mouth, chewing slowly as she blinked to full wakefulness.

She was alone in bed as was also becoming more and more common in the mornings, her once strict adherence to her schedule demolished by the food comas brought on by her constant binges. She was going to sleep later, waking up later, and eating nonstop in between, Christian true to his promise that she’d be punished if he ever caught her without food in her mouth. 

Since the day of her weigh-in she’d allowed Christian to take over completely, to force-feed her till she felt she would split and make her ask him for permission to do anything, to burn a single calorie. He often said no, and instead would simply bring her what she was looking for or complete her tasks for her so that she didn't have to get up off the couch. 

She hadn’t been to the gym in two and a half weeks, she hadn't eaten a healthy meal in just as long, and her body was beginning to feel strange, to feel a bit softer, a bit heavier. She ignored everything she wasn't ready to acknowledge, but it didn't change the facts. Stella was transforming in front of both of their eyes, just the way Christian had wanted her to. 

Her eating, as evinced by her early morning cravings for salty junk, had spiraled entirely out of control. She refused to think about how much she’d been able to put away lately, how she was getting hungry sooner and sooner after finishing a meal, and instead placed the totality of the blame on Christian and his persistence, his punishments when she didn't eat enough. Punishment that were being issued less and less often these days. It was like every feast just made her hungrier, and the more she ate, the more she wanted. 

She munched her way through the bag without even sitting up, wiped the crumbs off her greasy hands with her pajama top, and burped, still feeling peckish.

She’d been dressed in nothing but sweat suits lately, the uniform Christian had insisted upon, and ever since the bigger sizes that he’d instructed her to order had come, she’d been swimming in the too-large loungewear, folding down the waistband of the elastic sweatpants to help keep them up on her hips. The hem of the sweatshirt fell low enough to cover the bulge of the double-folded waistband and allowed her belly to bloat freely without hindrances, the most comfortable option for the levels of gluttony Christian had been forcing on her. 

She sat up, yawned, stretched, and smiled, already smelling the breakfast that she knew was downstairs waiting for her. Christian had been fluctuating between ordering mountains of fast food for her overfilling meals and cooking them himself, the logic being that when he prepared her meals he was able to include more butter, more grease, and more calories. He was a much better chef than Stella expected, and she’d grown to look forward to the fluffy stacks of golden pancakes he often whipped up for her first meal of the day. 

She stood up and padded down the stairs slowly, another burp working its way out of her system as she made her way down, and plopped into the kitchen chair that had quickly become ‘her’ chair. 

“Good morning baby,” Christian greeted, his back still to her while he tended to the stove. 

“Morning,” Stella returned, far more focused on the two plates next to him teeming with golden discs. 

“I put chocolate chips in this batch,” he said, turning to place the first plate on the table in front of her and taking another two steps closer to give her a quick peck on the lips. 

He handed her a fork then went about gathering the bacon he’d been keeping warm in the microwave (at least a pack's worth), the maple syrup, and a plate of the deep-fried hash browns that Stella had become all but obsessed with, the salty, crunchy crisp a flavor she found herself reminiscing about often. 

She dug in quickly, no longer anywhere near the point where Christian would have to tell her to eat, and she murmured an affirming exclamation through full lips on her first bite, pleasantly surprised with how Christian’s already apt cooking skills were improving. 

“These are really good Chris,” she offered, shoving another large, maple syrup-soaked bite into her mouth. 

“Thanks baby,” he said absentmindedly, flipping another pancake onto the awaiting stack. 

She took down the pancakes steadily while he finished cooking, cleaned up, and joined her, his two pancakes looking diminutive and unsatisfying next to her partially eaten stacks. 

Things had proceeded more or less uneventfully after Stella’s first weigh-in, the only major snafu being Stella’s tearful tirade of shouting after she discovered that the first 6 pounds didn't count, that Christian was measuring the 15 she needed to get the reward she truly wanted from his first weigh in with her, not the weigh-in she most recently remembered. 

Seven more pounds hadn't seemed that daunting, especially given that she’d put on the first 6 in just two days, but Christian was right, it had mostly been bloat and water weight. He wanted 15 pounds of fat on her before he finally gave her what she needed, and that distinction had only doubled Stella's efforts, her daily force-feedings the closest she would get for now to Christian forcing something else inside her. 

Two and a half weeks from that fateful day, it seemed like Stella was about to get what she was after. Every other day Christian reported that her weight was climbing and climbing, and Stella was beginning to feel it. She immediately noticed the way her toned muscles seemed to simply dissolve, all definition leaving her abs permanently by the middle of the second week. 

Her body felt softer, as if it had more give, and she could feel small changes, her backside beginning to fill and round out, her breasts growing heavier and more sensitive. She still wasn't fat, wasn't anywhere close to it, but the constant gluttony had left her with the beginnings of a tiny little pot belly, her stomach usually far too full to suck in whatsoever. 

Her last weigh-in two days ago had placed her at a solid 136.9, which meant less than three pounds to go before Christian would finally, finally take her. It was all she fantasized about lately, the time without him beginning to drive her crazy, and she even occasionally touched herself while imagining she weighed more, imagining she weighed enough for Christian to come ravage her bigger body. Since coming close enough to almost taste her goal she’d doubled down on the glut of food she put away every day, the last two days an orgy of gluttony that surprised even Christian. 

She didn't want to be fatter, or at least, that's what she kept telling herself, but she did want Christian. Badly enough that she’d give anything up to have him, badly enough that nothing else mattered. He clearly wanted her as well, and of late had grown cautious about the way he kissed and hugged her, about how they cuddled on the couch. 

She’d felt, more than once, Christian pressed against her in a way that made it obvious just how badly he’d been missing her as well, but he’d remained steadfast despite her constant attempts at distraction. Every time she so much as kissed him things went further and further, both of them lost in the throes of their own passion, until Christian finally quenched the flame at the last possible moment, leaving Stella panting, burning with desire, and for some reason, hungry. 

“Is there more?” Stella asked, already concerned that she wouldn't be full enough despite the 6 pancakes and four pieces of bacon left on her plate. 

“I’ll fry you some more hash browns babe,” Christian offered, getting up and grabbing his phone from the opposite counter as he headed to the freezer. “I’ll order you a little snack too, for after. You’ve been so greedy lately.”

Stella blushed, the accusation still enough to embarrass her despite its undeniable truth, and shoved in another bite. 

In the back of her mind, there was a part of her that truly believed that after the 15 pounds she’d promised, this would all be over. It was what she was planning for, what she was banking her future on. She never pictured herself as any larger than exactly 139.5 pounds, never imagined a future where she carried any extra weight beyond that. In fact, she imagined that she would lose it all shortly. After Christian had taught her a lesson, after he’d been satisfied with what he’d done to her, what she’d sacrificed to be with him, everything would go back to normal. 

She was enjoying herself, she was able to admit that, but she couldn't admit that things might go further. As she put on more weight and expanded, growing closer and closer to her goal, her excitement was tinged with the tiniest glimmer of fear, of panic that she would have to reckon with what came next. 

She finished her breakfast, including the extra hashbrowns Christian had fried her, and then lay on the couch groaning and holding her small belly, complaining about how full she was between sips of soda and loud burps. 

She was leaning into her new role more and more, not just because she was genuinely stuffing herself past the point of her capacity, past the point of comfort, but also because she saw the way it affected Christian.

When she complained about how swollen her gut was or how bloated her face looked, how she couldn't possibly eat another bite and how she was getting so fat, it got Christian worked up in a way she hadn't seen before. It was like it took him real, concentrated effort to control himself, and more than once he’d gotten up and left the room entirely, as if even looking at Stella, even listening to her speak was more temptation than he could take. 

Her delivery arrived and she put it away quickly in front of the television, the burger and fry combo barely enough to be considered a snack these days. She was getting lazier and lazier, and found that catching up on years of trashy reality shows was much more fun than working herself to the point of exhaustion in the gym every day. Her life was a monotony of gluttony and disconnection from reality, and it was evident all over her heavier, more womanly body. 

She took a light snooze, woke up to more snacks, then went back to sleep, her new routine optimized for maximum waistline expansion. Christian, now the sole caretaker of the house and them both, went about his daily tasks and activities as Stella ate and slept, their new routine feeling well worn in despite its recency. 

She awoke again to Christian standing over her, shaking her lightly. 

“Stella,” he was whispering, clearly trying not to startle her. “Stella, wake up. It's time for your weigh-in.”

She blinked, stretching.

“And I realized something,” Christian said in a low rumble as her eyes opened to take the beautiful man in. “Those sweat suits are big, they're pretty heavy. I need the number to be accurate. So this time, I want you completely naked.”