Chapter 5 - 3.1: spoiled blondes and temptation (makayla's perspective)

When I open my eyes, he is there, staring down at me with those creepy golden eyes and an amused expression. So this really is happening? Shit. My mind is still foggy from sleep. Last night is a blur. The last thing I remember clearly is refusing his fucking milkshake. What does he think I am? A fucking cow?!? But then... did I refuse? The vague memory of sweet, heavenly vanilla meeting my tongue dances across my mind, and then... is that pizza I remember? But that's not all. I think there were hands running down my body, grabbing my belly, squeezing my boobs... I feel a rush of embarrassment and fury and am sure that I'm blushing, which this creep apparently finds funny as he breaks out into laughter at my expression.
"Good morning, princess," he says, his voice sickeningly perfect, like velvet. For a second, I let myself appreciate how devastatingly beautiful he is; his bare arms perfectly toned and covered in black swirling tattoos that look like nothing I'd seen before, his threatening, glowing, golden eyes that betray his lack of humanity, his black hair like the darkness of the night, his face all sharp angles and perfect proportions, his hands so slim and graceful... Suddenly I am super angry again.
"Did you fucking touch me yesterday?" I snap, remembering the feel of those long fingers against my ass... I shudder.
He just smiles. An arrogant, knowing, evil smile. I want to slap him.
I open my mouth with the intention of giving him a piece of my mind, but suddenly he is right in front of me and there is a large piece of something sweet and puffy inside my mouth. I will my hand to smack him square across that fucking perfect jaw, but something holds it back. For the first time since I woke up, I am fully aware of my surroundings. I am sitting in some sort of office chair, except much more comfortable. The room is otherwise bare, but I'm pretty sure that it is the same room I was in yesterday. I look down at my arms and suddenly understand why they wouldn't move. They are strapped to the chair, but that's not all. I am wearing only a tight-fitting black set of bra and panties, completely unfamiliar. He fucking undressed me?!? The sense of anger rises within me again. I try to spit the sweet object in my mouth but to no avail. I growl at him, unable to speak.
"A donut, before you ask," he tells me casually, stepping back. "I'd recommend you start chewing your way through it, we have a lot to feed you today, Mac."
I growl once more and try to spit the donut again, still not succeeding but not willing to give up as easily this time. He slowly walks up to me, looking bored, and pushes the sweet farther into my mouth. "You are going to choke if you don't at least try to eat it," he says in a detached voice.
Fucking damn it! I can't breathe... I am so not gonna die in here. With an exasperated noise, I decide to eat it.
"Good girl," he says as I chew, my eyes shooting daggers at him. He is gone, then. I'm stunned by his sudden disappearance for a second, but then I feel those hands on my boobs again, his cool breath in my ear. "I am going to make you such a fat pig..." he purrs the words. Yet again, I attempt to spit the remainder of the donut, but he is faster, his hand already having shot up to my jaw, holding it in place and making sure I chew. "You were already such a tantalising piece of meat before, and yesterday was such fun," he continues while he forces me to chew; he moves his free hand to squeeze my stomach. "This belly will be absolutely massive when I am through with you, easily pinning you to the ground. I imagine you will look rather comical, even rounder than you are now..." His fingers move to pinch my fat ass.
I have always known that I am chubby, but I never let it bother me. I figured that if a guy was going to like me, he would have to like curves; there would be just more of me to love than with one of those skinny bitches, but this... it feels like a sick cosmic joke. This man wants to fatten me up like cattle and eat me when I am big enough, and yet... why do I feel horny? His next words snap me out of my thoughts. "I will make you a gigantic ball of fat, Makayla. I can hardly wait to dig my teeth into your soft flesh. You will be absolutely delicious." I notice that there is a piece of chocolate cake in my mouth now, which I had been chewing obediently. I must have finished the donut and had the sweet bread stuck in my mouth before I'd noticed. Fuck. If I had any chance of keeping myself from becoming a jumbo Makayla a l'orange, I couldn't space out like that.
I try to resist eating the cake, but he holds my jaw with his right hand, making sure I eat.
The process goes on for a bit, with him stuffing delicious sweets, again and again. At some point, I just give up trying to fight it. He knows I know that I cannot stop him from force-feeding me whatever he wants. Hell, he could make me eat a fucking chair if he wanted to and there wouldn't be a single, fucking thing I could do about it! And all the while his left hand is petting me, squeezing my ass, prodding my thighs, grabbing my boobs, pinching my belly, pressing the pillowy fat in my arms... I feel tears escaping my eyes as a feeling of utter powerlessness fills my heart. I am being fattened for slaughter, like a fucking pig, and a fucking demon is fucking caressing me while he stuffs fucking sweets into my fucking fat face? This can't be real. I let out a low sob which turns into a soft burp towards the end, but he seems to hear it and chuckles. I want to scream.
He continues to stuff me with sweets while I sob, my belly growing increasingly tight with each bite. After a few dozen, I can take any more. I hold my mouth firmly shut and turn my head away from his hand as he tries to push yet another strudel past my lips. He makes a sound like a hiss and shoots the hand that had been pleasantly caressing my full stomach to my boob, getting under my bra and squeezing my nipple painfully. I wince.
"You are going to eat until I say 'no more,' are we clear, Mac?" His words hardly sound human, low and dangerous like the blade of an assassin's knife. "You are my girl-pig, not my girl-friend. This is not the type of relationship in which you are allowed to make any decisions. Now eat." The last word echoes across the room. My mouth opens against my will and he pushes the strudel in. I start crying as I reluctantly eat the fattening good.
He speaks again, his voice a lot less scary, amused and joking (except, I knew, not joking) again, "But don't worry, Mac. I will be careful not to stuff you past your human limits. I won't let you just explode; that would ruin the fun for me. But I will get as close as is safely possible." I can feel the smile on his lips and let out a loud sob, the feeling of powerlessness overwhelming me.
He continues to shove sweet after sweet into my mouth, and though it hurts, I continue to eat. I sob between every bite. He continues to massage me, my fattest parts, primarily my cruelly overstuffed belly but also occasionally going up to my heavier-every-second boobs or down to my ripening ass. As I grow fuller, the sobs get replaced by hiccups and burps, at first soft, but soon enough they are sufficiently loud enough to echo off the bare walls. I cannot even register the embarrassing, degrading nature of it all; I am too full to concentrate on much besides the increasingly painful tightness in my stomach. I feel so full... he said he wouldn't pop me, but what if he gets it wrong and feeds me one brownie too many? His hand makes it better, though. I feel almost comforted by his touch. I am suddenly very aware of his every movement against my taut skin: how he presses against the rolls of my midsection just gently enough to not cause pain, how his long fingers are just long enough to perfectly cup my big, round boobs, how he makes his way down from them, stopping at my belly button and tracing small circles around it before proceeding to the spot between my thighs. I feel his fingers go inside me, and an electric current passes along my spine and into every nerve of my body. I moan as pain and pleasure fuse inside me and close my eyes. A distant voice within my head is telling me to stop, to focus and get the hell out of here, but it's barely audible, as if I were hearing it from below water. At some point, he stopped feeding me and released my arms, and now both of his hands were on me, all over me. This moment - the round orb of my belly stuffed to the brim with delicious food, his hands gracefully caressing every last inch of my body, my boobs feeling too heavy and too tight against the now-poor-fitting black bra, his cool breath next to my ear - This is Makayla Lynn Stapleton's new personal definition of heaven.
He stops.
My eyes fly open, unfocused, searching. He is standing in front of me now, and I gasp at the sight. He looks so beautiful. His black sleeveless is gone, revealing his chest and abs: perfectly toned and covered with the same swirling, black symbols as his arms, his light brown skin shinny and smooth, not a single imperfection on it. And his face... It is like the face of an angel, except his smile cruel and arrogant. His golden eyes have slit pupils - why hadn't I seen that before? -, and the look on them was hungry. He looks like a predator, a beautiful fallen angel. A predator that I would not mind being eaten by.
All I can do is stare at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open.
His smile turns warmer, and suddenly his face is just a couple inches away from mine, and then closer than that. His lips connect with mine and I feel his tongue slide inside my open mouth. For a second, I am frozen, but then I kiss him back.
I wrap my arms around his strong shoulders, and his own hands reach for the fat rolls of my back, pulling me closer into his embrace, fat boobs and fattened belly smashing into steel chest and titanium abs.
I never want him to let me go.

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