Chapter 2

The warmth of May enveloped Mark's vineyards, and his mind navigated the intricacies of his relationship with Isabella. Her words lingered, echoing as a subtle reminder. As he worked amidst the burgeoning buds, the renewal of the season served as a metaphor for the changes he contemplated. Sunlight filtered through the green leaves, but Mark's focus drifted from meticulous vineyard tasks to the complex intricacies defining his tangled bond with his sister.

The idea of using Isabella's weight as a form of control persisted like a tenacious vine. In his mind's eye, Mark envisioned scenes where she surrendered to the food he meticulously presented. Each bite represented an attempt to alter power dynamics and dismantle barriers between them. Amidst the fragrant breeze of spring, Mark wondered if this unconventional strategy could breathe balance back into their relationship. The fear that had perpetually dictated his actions metamorphosed into a silent yearning for mastery.

He pictured Isabella succumbing to the culinary delights he served with devotion. Each morsel symbolized a step into uncharted psychological territory. Aware of potential consequences, he balanced on the precipice between control and darkness, finding solace in the vibrant vitality of spring that painted warmth on his skin while his mind was immersed in the intricate plot shaping the destinies of him and his sister.

"Why did I allow this?" Mark pondered, feeling the burden of humiliation weigh on his chest. Scenes with Isabella played like a haunting film reel in his mind-cutting words, public embarrassment, the unsettling loss of control.

Amidst his work, the gap between him and Isabella widened. His precise pruning clashed with her indulgence in hobbies at home. Isabella, distant from the toil of the fields, immersed herself in personal passions, seemingly indifferent to Mark's exertions.

"She thinks only of herself," Mark mumbled. "While I toil under the sun, she's likely at home, perhaps painting or gardening." Images of Isabella in comfort while he bore the weight of work alone plagued his thoughts, distracting him from the vine rows.

The rhythmic shearing of the pruning shears became a meditative beat, accompanying Mark's tumultuous thoughts. "Perhaps, somehow, I can make her feel what I felt today."

Revenge crept into his mind.. The desire to restore balance pulsed within him. As he pruned, he pondered subtle ways to manipulate Isabella's relationship with food, aiming to exploit her vulnerabilities.

He envisioned tempting Isabella with comfort foods, tailored to her preferences. Pastries, rich desserts, and indulgent meals would become tools to gradually influence her eating habits. The once-solitary vineyard transformed into the stage for his covert culinary strategy.

Calculating timing, Mark planned to introduce these treats during Isabella's moments of emotional vulnerability, associating the pleasure of eating with comfort. He aimed to subtly condition her response to stress through carefully curated culinary experiences.

As he navigated the rows, his mind raced with thoughts of crafting a menu that would entice her without raising suspicion. The notion of using food as a means of control both intrigued and disturbed him, yet he couldn't shake the desire to shift the power dynamics in their relationship.

Mark envisioned the satisfaction of watching Isabella succumb to the allure of the carefully selected treats. The vineyard, bathed in the warm hues of May, became the backdrop for his intricate plan—a silent battleground where the struggle for dominance played out through each delectable morsel.

Within Mark, conflicting emotions brewed. The desire for revenge clashed with guilt and the awareness that manipulating someone's relationship with food was a precarious path. Yet, as he continued to prune, his determination solidified, driven by an unspoken need to reclaim control in the intricate dance with his sister.

Mark leaned over the vines, carefully wielding pruning shears on the last row of the day. The warmth of May enveloped the vineyard as he, lost in his thoughts, nurtured the dream of making Isabella's belly burst out of her jeans.

The driveway scene vividly played in his mind. Isabella striding away arrogantly, her backside pushing against the jeans, a visible sign of her expanding form. Mark had noticed that detail during the punishment a few days ago and, with a mix of pleasure and mischief, observed that the jeans seemed tighter than usual, conforming to her new silhouette.

"Isabella is always in control," he sighed, recalling the driveway scene. "What if I could make her falter, make her give in with sweets?" His gaze focused on the vines, but the thought of his sister's belly lingered.

"I picture her stomach, usually concealed in tight jeans, bursting beyond limits. She shouldn't be able to wear those jeans anymore. Enough of being her servant!" A mischievous smile touched Mark's lips as he dreamed of his small act of rebellion.

The shears continued their work among the vines, but Mark's mind wandered, trapped in the thoughts of his fantasy. "Maybe I should buy her jeans a size larger," he reflected. "So she can hide her belly without suspecting anything. She can become too fat to fit without knowing, then I give them back, and overnight she finds herself too fat to dress. A little revenge, to change the game, stop being her servant."

"For too long, I've been subjected to the demands of my own sister," he muttered to himself. "If I could make her burst out of her usual patterns, knock her off the pedestal? She deserves it, she really does!" His mind was designing a revenge revealed in every detail.

The vines, in the meantime, emphasized the rhythm of his thoughts. "Every meal I prepare for her should be fattier, perhaps with more butter." Mark envisioned the simple brother who, through the kitchen, could break the chains of his submission. "It's my way of telling the world that I can change, that I can break free from this situation. Then she deserves a lesson."

As he worked among the rows, the dream of making Isabella's belly burst became his driving force. Her hips, like the field he cultivated, seemed to promise a change.