Chapter 5 - The Interrogation

Andrea found herself marooned in a cold, sterile room within the prince's fortress. The grim-faced guard stationed at the door remained as unyielding as the stone walls. Her questions, whispered in a voice threaded with fear, echoed unanswered.

“Where the hell am I?” she asked. No response.

Abruptly, a knock disrupted the stifling silence. Prince James sauntered in, dismissing the guard with a casual wave. Alone with the prince, Andrea’s discomfort rose, his gaze unnerving her.

“So, Andrea,” he began, a predatory smile playing on his lips, “how tall are you?”

She responded timidly, “Five...five foot five.”

She looked at him, "I don't understand why I am here your highness."

"You are here because you live a sinful life. Your weight, how much do you weigh.” His bluntness stung.

“I’d...rather not...” she hesitated, a futile attempt to maintain some dignity.

“Step on the scale Andrea,” he pointed to a scale in the corner, impatience sharpening his words.

Andrea swallowed, and walked over to the scale, she looked down over her belly at the reading, her voice barely audible. “Two hundred and seventy four pounds.”

"That is quite big for a woman that is just 5'5. You must like to eat.", the prince responded, taking a deep breath as he stared at her.

"Looking at how you carry your weight, I bet you have a sweet tooth. You like sweets don't you?"

"I.. I guess.", she replied in embarrassment.

"Do you ever try to diet?", he asked.

"Yes, of course Your Highness, I do try."

He cut her off, "It never works though does it, you can't help yourself. You have a tan, do you tan?"

"Yes.", she replied, almost with a whisper this time.

"In the nude I bet, your big, soft body...", he stopped himself.

“And your stomach, is it soft?” His gaze was drawn to her belly, barely contained by her too-small shirt.

“Why...why do you want to know that...” she protested, a blush staining her cheeks.

"Show it to me.", he told her, staring at her.

"Your highness, please.", she pleaded.

"It's just your stomach, your soft stomach. I am your prince, show it to me.", he told her, more sternly this time.

“Yes,” she replied, feeling like defeat. She pulled her shirt up a few inches and her shorts down, so that her belly flopped over it, hanging down over her waist.

He started at her intently, to her shock, he opened a drawer and pulled out a measuring tape, walked up to her, and he began to measure her body, calling out the measurements. Each number was a testament to her size, her inability to conform to societal standards.

A servant brought in a dessert that looked sinfully decadent. “Eat,” he commanded. Andrea balked, too embarrassed to eat in his presence. .

With a deep, resigned sigh, she complied. As she did, her shirt rode up, revealing her two-tiered belly in its entirety. Its lower half was larger, softer, leading into a second, smaller roll closer to her breasts. The flesh was slightly tan, the stretch marks a testimony to years of gain and loss. Her shorts slid down to reveal the full extent of her belly, hanging slightly over her thighs. She felt exposed, vulnerable.

The prince's gaze was fixed on her midriff, a look of primal desire transforming his features. His hand reached out, the first contact shocking her. His fingers explored her flesh with a reverence she couldn't comprehend. His breath hitched, and a raspy whisper slipped out.

“Yes, Andrea, this is what your belly needs. Let it grow. Let it soften.” His words twisted the sterile room into a perverse stage of humiliation.

Andrea’s night had descended into a shocking ordeal. She was trapped in a macabre display of power and obsession, her dignity stripped away under the prince's relentless gaze. His dark desires exposed, Andrea was left vulnerable, exposed, and lost in the prince's twisted game.