An Oversized Ultimatum- Chapter 2

Stella’s eyes bolted open, panic clutching at her throat. She was late for the gym. She must've turned off her alarm, or slept through it, or forgotten to set it, but either way, she needed to get up, and now. 

Maybe I can still make my class, she thought blearily, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she moved to toss back her blanket. 

Stella paused as she took in the momentarily unfamiliar scene, body tensing as her flight or flight instincts spiked then quickly petered out. She knew where she was. She was in her living room instead of her bedroom, sprawled on one corner of their large sectional with a square white pillow from their bedroom tucked under her head and pressed against her cheek. She was covered by her favorite blanket, also from their bedroom, and she pushed it back to reveal the same hot pink dress she’d been wearing yesterday accompanied by a pair of cream sweatpants she definitely hadn't been.

She blinked, feeling hazy, and reached for her head, instinctively attempting to massage out the headache that wasn't there. Stella blinked, feeling a sudden chill as the realization set in. She wasn't hungover. Not from alcohol, at least. The memories of the previous day came flooding back to her in high cresting waves, each one beating against the shores of her mind and lapping away any solid ground. 

She’d been so full after Christian left that the most she’d been able to do was drag herself to the couch, the stairs seeming a daunting task that would require near herculean effort on her part. She’d laid there, groaning and burping until falling into a food coma, and apparently at some point Christian had come downstairs and covered her with a blanket. 

Now it was late in the day, much later than Stella's normal wake-up time as indicated by the midday sun streaming in through the windows, and she was at a loss. What was she supposed to do now that her routine, her entire life, was upended? And where was Christian?

She swung her feet to the floor, hesitant in all the silence, and stood up, noting with horror that even after a full night's sleep her stomach still felt bloated. She ran a hand down her middle, sucking in as she did so, and was relieved to discover that she felt more or less the same, that last night's feast hadn't done instantaneous and permanent damage. 

She paused, considering. She’d always been the independent type, and choosing exactly what she wanted to wear, where she wanted to go, and what she’d do there had always been her reality, even when she began dating Christian. He’d never been controlling or demanding, never attempted to change her, and it had always been part of the reason she loved him. Now, with him in charge, she felt at a loss, as if just one day of her submission to him erased 27 years of independence.

She turned first to the left then to the right, unsure of which direction to proceed even in her own home. She sighed and decided on her bedroom, more than ready for a much-needed shower. She crept up the stairs as if afraid of being caught, almost certain Christian wasn't there yet sneaking around like a burglar nonetheless, nerves on high alert. 

The house was painfully silent and their bed was neatly made, typical for Christian, and Stella rushed through the process of taking a shower, a tension building within her that she couldn't describe despite her relief at the jarringly hot water pounding down her back. She got out and dried her hair quickly, her blow dryer still plugged in from when she’d gone out two nights before, then wrapped her body in her plush white robe as she shut herself in their walk-in closet and pondered her next move. 

Normally, she’d be back from the gym and would wear her typical uniform of athleisure while she ran errands, grabbed a salad or sushi with friends, or shopped. Then it would be home again to change into her nightlife look, whether that was for a date with Christian or, more likely, a night out with her girls. But yesterday, Christian had instructed her to wear different clothes, had firmly informed her that she wouldn't be dressing that way anymore. 

She wanted to throw on spandex shorts and a zip-up, to ignore everything Christian had told her. Ignore what he’d made her do yesterday and continue about her life like nothing was wrong, like nothing was different. Maybe it would make him forget, make everything go back to normal. 

He was really angry, Stella thought, justifying. Maybe he's calmer today, maybe he was just trying to scare me. 

Stella sighed, irritated at how little control she had over her own train of thought. If Christian had been trying to scare her he’d certainly accomplished that goal, but more than that he’d enticed her. She couldn't stop thinking about the steely tone of his voice, the wild look in his eyes, the pressure in the way he’d grabbed her face and wrist. She was melting just remembering it, feeling almost unsteady as she worked and reworked Christian's new persona in her mind. 

She could just go about her day as if everything was normal, could hope that he forgets, but is that what she really wanted? To never feel that exciting, unnerving vulnerability that he’d evoked in her, never wonder with bated breath exactly what he was going to do to her? It was somehow almost freeing, that feeling. To know that she had no choice, that whatever happened next was going to happen regardless of her efforts, her choices. That no amount of action that she took, no amount of protests that she made would change anything. For a woman who planned out every moment of her life, who needed control, who was never not in charge, what Christian had done to her yesterday was like breathing a sigh of relief. 

She bit her lip, torn. If she was going to get out of this, she really only had one chance. She would have to tell Christian that what happened last night was unacceptable, that she’d hated it and she would never do it again. She would have to get dressed like she always does, catch a late spin class at the gym, and inform Christian that the only reason she’d gone along with his insanity the day before was because she’d felt bad about what she’d done and wanted to show him how sorry she was. She could retake control of the situation just like that, and everything would go back to normal. 

But was normal what she wanted? As the thought of Christian never speaking to her that way again crossed her mind, Stella felt true panic rise in her like bile. She wanted him that way, she wanted it desperately, and if she tried to erase the previous night's events, make everything go away and return to normal, she would never have him. 

I’m going to the gym, Stella decided. 

It would be insane, absolutely insane to give up everything she’d worked so hard for just because she wanted Christian to ravage her with that wild look in his eyes. She set her face in determination, reaching for a lime green athletic set that showed off her toned thighs, then paused, hand outstretched. She closed her eyes for a moment, replaying the lusty rumble of Christian's words the night before. 

“Are you gonna be good?” he’d asked. “Or am I gonna have to force you.”

Stella swallowed hard and grabbed a pair of black sweatpants and the black sweatshirt folded atop them, the matching set some of the only baggy clothes she owned. She tugged them on quickly, not allowing herself to consider any of the implications, then all but ran out of the closet as if scared of what she’d done. 

She padded back to the bathroom in bare feet and examined herself in the mirror. Although she looked the same, in all appearances was the Stella she’d always been, she felt like a new person, almost as if she couldn't recognize herself. The baggy sweat suit was loose on her still-small frame, and she tried to imagine her body stretching it out, to imagine what it would feel and look like for the oversized sweat suit to be snug. 

She shuddered, unable to conjure the offensive image, and turned sharply out of the bathroom, still unsure of exactly what it was she should be doing at the moment. She wandered into the hall aimlessly and stood at the top of the stairs, debating. She should try and find her phone, dead as it likely was, and call Christian. She blushed, feeling that newfound shyness about her longtime boyfriend once again. She didn't want to call him. She was nervous. It felt like she had a new crush, like she hadn't known him for years and instead was in the early stages of romance with butterflies and all. 

She started down the stairs slowly then froze, the metallic grinding of the adjoined garage door indicating Christian’s return to their condo. She briefly panicked, unsure of whether she should head down as she planned or scamper back upstairs and hide in their bedroom. She shook her head, wincing at her own timid indecision. 

This is ridiculous, she decided, marching down the stairs with every intention of proving to herself that she wasn't nervous around him. 

She entered the kitchen just a split second before Christian walked in, arms laden with grocery bags. Stella, suddenly shy again, looked down then forced herself to look back up, unwilling to succumb to her own nerves. Christian smiled at her. 

“Nice outfit,” he said with a lift of his eyebrow. 

He placed the multitude of plastic grocery bags on the counter and turned back towards the garage door, hanging his keys on the designated hook next to it before placing his hand on the handle again. 

“Where are you going?” Stella blurted, the same sudden build of confusion snowballing towards her once more. Everything was happening so quickly that she didn't have time to analyze one thing before the next began, leaving her perpetually in the dark. 

“To get the rest of the groceries,” he called over his shoulder.

Stella stood still for a moment, once more frozen by an indecision that was beginning to humiliate her, and followed him on impulse.

“I’ll help,” she offered from the doorway, blinking as her eyes adjusted. 

Christian turned back to her, a pleasant grin on his face that made him look so innocent, almost as sweet and gentle as he had always been before yesterday. She could see from there that the backseat was absolutely loaded with grocery bags, and the five bags he’d already brought in combined with the six currently lining his arms barely accounted for half of the haul. 

Stella gulped, the realization setting in more fully that all of this food was for her. Her eyes scanned the calorie-dense loot quickly, noting the bags of chips, the boxes of cookies, the candy, and the chocolate. Some of the bag’s items were indiscernible to her, junk food being the last thing she’d thought about in years. 

“You can help me,” Christian replied, scooting her aside lightly with one hand as he reentered the kitchen and set the next load of bags on the table. “You can help me by eating this,” he said, grabbing a brightly colored bag at random and handing it to her. 

Stella felt her heart quicken. Although she knew just how serious Christian was about this whole thing, she wasn't expecting for this all to happen again so soon. She wasn't expecting that she’d already be forced to repeat yesterday's events less than 24 hours later. 

“I’m still full,” she mumbled, eyes downcast. 

Christian shook the bag in front of her. 

“Take it,” he repeated firmly. ‘

Stella took the bag in both hands and scrutinized it carefully, frowning as she read the front. 

“What are these?” she asked, as if the bag didn’t specify. 

Christian laughed. 

“Jesus, Stella, you just eat healthy, you’re not from another planet. They’re potato chips. Open the bag and try one.”

She flipped the bag to the back, her frown deepening as she read through the nutritional facts and ingredients. 

“Christian, I can't eat these,” she reported, still reading. “The sodium alone is insane, and a serving is 210 calories for nine chips. Nine,” she emphasized. “There's 14 servings in here, do you know how many calories that is?”

“Do you know how many calories were in that entire pizza you ate last night?” Christian retorted with a lopsided grin. 

Stella balked, her face immediately flushing as she realized that she had yet to consider that. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to do the mental math that she knew would leave her feeling dumbfounded and guilty. 

“Eat the chips or I'll tell you,” Christian finished, turning to unload the rest of the groceries from the car.

Stella opened her eyes. Despite what she’d told Christian when he’d provided her with the junky snack, she was horrified to discover that she wasn't actually full. She’d crammed down more food than she normally ate in a week in just a few hours, and the next day she was as hungry as if she’d never eaten. She played with the edges of the bag in lieu of opening it, wondering just how far Christian was going to take this. She couldn’t eat like yesterday all the time, it just wasn't possible. He’d pushed her to her absolute limit and beyond it, he couldn't be expecting her to do it again the next day. 

Christian walked back in with another load of groceries and her gaze shot up, taking in his darkening expression. 

“Stella, he warned slowly in a steady voice, and Stella quickly ripped open the bag, grabbing a chip and popping it into her mouth before he could say anything else. 

His smile returned. 

“Good girl,” he praised, and Stella ate another chip without thinking, spurred on by a desire to hear him repeat the alluring affirmation in that voice of his. 

The chips were overly salted as Stella had expected, but entirely delicious as she had not, and she ate another and another as Christian brought in the rest of the groceries, finally closing the garage door and leaning against the kitchen island to watch her. 

Stella was still standing, eating the chips steadily as she realized the full extent of her hunger. She was absolutely starving. She was the kind of hungry that normally only came about when she’d been fasting for a beach trip, and the chips (like the slices of pizza) were even better than she remembered from her youth. 

She ate another chip and then paused, feeling Christian's gaze boring into her. She wiped at her mouth, ashamed, and rolled up the top of the bag, setting it down. 

Christian shook his head, pointing to it. 

“You’re not done,” he reminded her. 

Stella, already learning that argumentation was futile, picked the bag back up and unrolled it, eating another chip before responding. 

“Do I have to eat it all?” she asked meekly. 

Christian shook his head. 

“Eat till I'm done putting all this away,” he said, indicating to the hundreds of dollars in groceries spread across the kitchen island and counters. “Then you can have your breakfast.”

Breakfast, she thought, sliding another chip into her mouth. He’s gonna make me eat again. 

A sudden flashback of the previous night made her catch her breath, and as Christian began to put away the piles of groceries, she sat in the same island chair as before, steadily pushing chips into her mouth one after the other as thoughts of Christian taking over the task made her a bit dizzy. 

She examined the goodies as best as she could while she ate, recognizing all the staples like Oreos, chips, and pasta while using context clues to discern the rest. Christian had gone crazy, and the excessive grocery trip seemed like a product of throwing everything from the snack and candy aisle into the cart. 

There were no vegetables, no salad kits, nothing that Stella was used to. Instead, the counter was littered with fried frozen appetizers like jalapeno poppers and mozzarella sticks, party-sized bags of chocolate, liters of soda, boxes and boxes of cookies, gallons of ice cream, and enough salty snacks to run a concession stand. 

Christian had no issue finding the space for all he’d bought, and their always bare cupboards were now crammed to bursting with caloric junk foods. The fridge and freezer were the same story, and if Stella had seen it just a few days before, she would’ve assumed she walked into the wrong house. 

“So,” Christian began, startling her out of her thoughts. 

Stella set the bag down and sat up straighter, looking at him anticipatorily. He shook his head. 

“I didn't say stop eating,” he warned, and Stella picked up the bag dutifully and resumed her crunching. 

“So,” he began again. “I wanna lay out some ground rules for you. You follow my rules, always. No exceptions. You understand?”

Stella nodded, her mouth full.

“Good. First, you eat whatever I tell you to eat. I don't care if you’re too full, I don't care if you don't want to or you don't like it, you’re going to eat it. As for the rest of the time, you can eat whatever you want…as long as you’re eating something.”

He fixed her with a steely look.

“And I do mean the entire rest of the time,” he went on. “Anytime I see you you need to be eating. I don't ever wanna see you without a snack or a fork in your hand, ever. You need to be taking packets of cookies into the shower and falling asleep with a burger. If I see you without food, it’s gonna be a problem. Got it?”

Stella nodded again, attention fixed on both Christian and her chips as he gave her instructions. 

“I’m gonna weigh you every other day. Starting today,” he clarified. “Just as soon as you’ve finished your breakfast. And last but not least,” he said, a hint of a teasing smile creeping into his voice. “You don't do anything without asking me first.”

Stella shoved two chips in her mouth at once, trying to disguise her expression. She felt like leaping across the island and begging for him but instead she ate another chip, deferring her lust into gluttony. 

“You don't get to burn calories without getting my permission. That means anywhere you go, anything you do, hell, even walking up the stairs, you have to ask me first. You’re only allowed to do what I want you to do.”

He studied her carefully.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked, his gaze still boring into her. “Huh?” he asked after a beat of silence. “Are you gonna argue with me like yesterday, tell me that you can't?”

Stella shook her head silently. 

“Good,” he replied. “Cause it wouldn't matter if you did.”

He turned to the nearest cabinet and opened it, grabbing a white and red bag with a clear cellophane window that allowed Stella to see the powdered donuts within.

“For breakfast, you’re gonna have these,” he started, setting the bag down and opening the freezer. “And…,”

He hummed, considering. 

“This,” he said finally, snagging a second item. 

He placed the pint of vanilla ice cream next to the donuts, and Stella balked, her trepidation overtaking her lust once more. 

She shook her head. 

“I can’t eat all tha-”, she started, and before she could finish the last word Christian had crossed the kitchen towards her in two steps, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her to face him. 

“What did you just say,” he murmured, his volume counteracted by his aggression as he leaned close to her ear. “What did you say?” he repeated when she didn't answer. “Cause I just told you,” he hissed, yanking her closer by her wrist. “I just fucking told you that you don't talk back. Isn't that what I told you?” 

Genuine fear coursed through Stella's body and the rush of emotion made her gasp, her senses heightened and her body coming to life as Christian manhandled her. 

“Isn't it?” he asked her again with a shake, and Stella nodded quickly, trying to control her breathing. 

“See, I was gonna be nice Stella,” he whispered in her ear. “I was gonna be nice like I was yesterday, I wasn't gonna make you finish both. But now, since you argued…” he grabbed the bag, tearing it open and picking up a powder sugar-covered confection. “Now, you’re gonna eat every last bite. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

He lifted the donut hole to Stella's mouth and she opened it soundlessly, her mind too far gone in fantasy to assert any of her own will. He shoved the treat into her mouth and picked up another, pressing it against her lips while she still chewed the first. She obliged immediately, allowing him to force in another bite until her cheeks were swollen as she chewed steadily. 

Christian continued to feed her that way, gripping her wrist tightly and shoving donut after donut into her mouth while she moaned her protests around the mouthfuls of sweet dough. 

Half of the bag had disappeared down her throat and Stella was beginning to get hot, her overeating and burning desire a less-than-cooling combination. She held up a hand to stop him and burped loudly, her mouth still full, before groaning at the growing pain in her middle. 

“I can't-,” she began, then cut herself off at his stern look. “Can I finish the rest later?” she asked, eyeing the mound of donut holes still inside the bag. 

Christian shook his head. 

“Open,” he said simply, and Stella did as she was told, allowing him to feed her more and more as the bag began to deplete. 

He crammed two at a time into her mouth, chuckling as Stella moaned loudly, and kissed her on the forehead. 

“You have powdered sugar all over your face,” he teased before kissing her lightly on the lips, her mouth still full. “You look so cute, baby.”

Stella panted, glad for a break from the constant caloric onslaught. 

“You’re almost done,” he promised, his aggression from earlier in their feeding session clearly waning. “Just 5 more.” 

Stella opened her mouth before Christian was able to grab another donut from the bag and he laughed, letting go of her wrist and dropping his hand to her middle. 

“Getting greedy already?” he teased again. “Huh?” he asked after cramming her mouth full once more. “Yea?”

Stella nodded, chewing dutifully. 

“4 more,” he said, pushing one donut into her mouth followed by an immediate second. 

Stella’s chest rose and fell dramatically as she panted, so full of the indulgent, sugary treats that she was near incoherent. It wasn't just the amount of food she was taking down, it was the speed with which Christian was forcing it on her. He never gave her room for a break, never let her swallow without the next bite ready at her lips. It gave her no time to consider, no time to disagree, and no time to count the calories. All she could do was eat and eat until he was done with her. 

He shoved another donut hole in her mouth and Stella groaned as she pushed down the waistband of her sweatpants, her stomach too achingly full for any other source of pressure. She swallowed hard, feeling as if she were about to pop, then opened her mouth once more. 

“Last one,” he murmured as he pressed the donut hole into her awaiting lips. “Good girl. Good job baby.”

Stella burped, hiccuped, and burped again as she chewed the last bite, groaning with both hands on her stomach once the deed was finally done. 

“I hic can’t hic breathe,” Stella panted, leaning into Christian heavily. “I’m so full,” she moaned. “I'm so full.”

She could barely think, barely reason beyond the feeling in her stomach, and she burped again, too delirious to be embarrassed. 

“You did so good,” Christian repeated as if he knew the exact effect that the word was suddenly having on her. “Almost done.”

“There's no more,” Stella protested. “You said last one.”

Christian just looked at her, a sly smile on his face. 

“The bag is empty,” she whined. “You said I was done.”

Christian picked up the pint of vanilla ice cream that Stella had forgotten about entirely. The carton had been sweating as the ice cream sat on the counter, melting the entire time Christian had been feeding her the donuts. 

“I said, last donut,” he corrected, prying open the top. “And I told you were eating both for your little outburst.”

Stella continued to breathe heavily, wanting to shake her head in protest but knowing what that would bring about.

“Christian, please,” she begged listlessly. “Please, please let me eat it later, please I promise I’ll-”

“I don't want to hear it,” Christian interjected. “Open.”

Stella moaned louder, the thought of taking one more bite of anything somehow preemptively increasing the pain in her stomach.

“Open,” Christian instructed more firmly. 

Stella burped and moaned even louder, feeling as if his request was impossible. 

Christian gripped her face, pressing his fingers into her cheeks so tightly her lips were pursed. 

“Open before I make you,” he whispered, and Stella opened her mouth with a whimper, her desire to please him overtaking her self-preservation. 

“Drink slow and breathe through your nose,” he instructed. “Just imagine it's my cock down your throat instead of melted ice cream, that’ll make you take it all down, right? 

He gripped her face harder. 

“Right? Cause you’re a little slut? Well, now you’re a slut for this,” he said, tilting her head back and pouring the melted ice cream down her throat. 

Stella groaned as the heavy, milky liquid hit her tongue, surprised at just how good the makeshift milkshake tasted. She swallowed once and then again as Christian poured mercilessly, taking his advice and breathing through her nose as the cream and sugar began to fill her up. 

She was all but chugging the ice cream, her grunts and groans coming louder and faster as she felt her stomach push out further and further. She had never been this full in her entire life, didn't even know it was possible to be that full, and she felt as if she were going to pop. 

The previous night's binge paled in comparison as Christian poured steadily, murmuring bits of encouragement to her as her nonverbal protests grew louder and louder. 

Stella's stomach felt like an overstuffed drum and she was rubbing desperate, frantic circles on her sides, trying fruitlessly to alleviate some of the bloat and pain that was beginning to make her think she would genuinely burst. 

She held up a hand for Christian to stop and he simply tipped the pint further, increasing the rate at which the fattening liquid flowed down her waiting throat. She was so full she could barely even moan, and she sputtered little whimpers of pain as the ice cream in the cardboard pint neared its end. 

“God, you look so sexy,” Christian muttered as she drained the last of the container, a drip of melted ice cream running down her chin. 

Stella gasped then burped raucously, finding herself unable to muster the energy to cover her mouth. She hiccupped, burped, then burped again as Christian began to rub her belly as well, their hands meeting on the swollen little ball of her belly. 

“You’re so bloated,” he murmured, rubbing in soothing circles. “Look at you. Your face is all puffy and your little belly is rock hard, you did so good for me.”

Stella could only groan in response, her mind as overwhelmed as her body by the excess calories. 

“C’mon baby, I'm gonna help you,” Christian said, stepping back and threading an arm underneath her shoulders so he could raise her up. “I’m gonna take you to the couch so you can sleep it off.”

Stella groaned and allowed herself to be half carried back to the couch, already slipping into a food-coma-induced unconsciousness the second her head hit the pillow. 

“And when you wake up,” promised Christian, his voice fading out as if in a dream. “It’ll be time for your weigh-in.”