Chapter 1

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 coolly 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.....




*I hope you enjoyed! This chapter is 4,700+ words and the story is currently 14,800+ words, and it's quickly becoming my favorite recurring series to write lol. For more, you can check out my profile here on FF! EA. Thanks so much for reading:)*