Chapter 1 - a cellphone plan to bridge the distance

"A long distance relationship... I won't be able to go there except, maybe, once a month. But god is she gorgeous, and what we have in common..." Weeks of exchanging emails had led Rick to see Estrella as an incredibly rare find, and he wouldn't give her up easily. He knew they were both desperate to enjoy each other's shared fantasy, but it might be a while before they would get to enjoy one another's company.
"Did you get that car?" she asked, hopefully.
"No, it wasn't in nearly good enough shape for what he was asking."
"Then when will you be here!? I feel like you're wasting away every moment I'm not able to feed you!"
"I feel the same way about you, and it tears me apart. I do have an idea, though."
"Tell me Master."
"Well Mistress, I'm working on an app for our phones and a couple other things. I've reprogrammed a couple of cheap digital scales and made them blue-tooth accessible, and done the same with some pedometers. How it works is, we alternate days as sub or dom, and on our dom days, we tell the other exactly what to eat. I've even got some prepaid credit cards linked to it, and at a lot of restaurants and grocery stores, when used, it'll actually tell the other person what the card was used for. It'll tell us how many steps they've taken, and how much they weigh whenever they step on the scale. But they won't be able to see their weight themselves. So in essence, we can still give each other total control over our weight now, even while we're trying to find ways to see one another." Silence. Maybe I had crossed a line or something, or-
"I love it. I didn't know I was dating a genius. How much do I owe you for all this time and effort? I want to put $500 on a prepaid card for you. Should I just get the card and send it to you?"
And so began a war for one another's wastelines. We had everything in place and working a week from when we first spoke, and I decided to commandingly take the lead. "You're the dom today." I texted her.
"Get on the scale, then eat 12 doughnuts, a gallon of whole milk, and a pound of bacon. Enjoy your breakfast! Oh, and on the scale again right after that, Babe." it read. I half wondered if she called me Babe as a reference to the pig from the children's story/film. I got on the scale, which had the display disconnected and showed me nothing, and went to a bakery and then to a grocery store. I ate doughnuts while the bacon cooked, and used the milk to wash it down. I had never eaten so heavily. I knew there was no way I could finish it.
Hours later, I was still working at it when I got another text. "Ready for lunch? Get on that scale now." I diligently went to the scale, but instead of stepping on it then, I took it with me to the kitchen and stepped on it next to where I was eating. Another message was immediate. "You clearly didn't finish your breakfast. You'll need to add a pound of peanut butter to make up for that." I wanted to send a message in protest, but I didn't want to annoy my feeder. We could talk about that when I was the feeder. I worked as hard as I could, cramming food into my gut, and after a couple more hours, I had the original breakfast eaten, and had forced most of a jar of peanut butter into my gut along with it, washing down heaping spoonfulls with the last of the milk. I sat back, exhausted. My phone went off. It was on the table. I noticed it was considerably more effort than usual to reach for it over my sore, very full stomach. I looked at it.
"Time for tea! I went to the liberty of ordering you some pizza. Should be there any time. Weigh yourself for me first." I groaned.
"I can't just keep eating like this. I need some time to digest. I'm full."
"The words "I'm full" to me is a promise sworn to one's master or mistress, and if I can't trust you to be honest about that, I couldn't trust you when you say you can't eat anymore. I don't think you know what full really is. The deal is, I promise you a visit in the next month if you can finish off this pizza in the next 10 minutes."
"Sure!" I thought, looking down at the already empty pizza box and smiling. "Done deal!" I texted. As soon as I hit send, I heard the doorbell. Another pizza guy. I swore. Another extra large, quadruple cheese stuffed crust pizza, already paid for.
She texted immediately when the 10 minutes was up, and asked how the pizza was going. I just went ahead and sent her a picture of the three pieces that remained.
"We had a deal. You broke that deal. When that happens, it's going to delay us changing roles. Those three slices equal three more consecutive days under my supervision." I started to sweat, thinking of that. "If you haven't finished that pizza by dinner time, you'll have another day added to that for each slice left." Just as I took a bite out of one of the last three, she sent me another text. "Dinner time. 2 boxes of macaroni and cheese made with twice the butter, and 8 large hot dogs cut up and thrown in. I then want you to chug 6 beers immediately after finishing the food. You have 2 hours."
The next 5 days were a blurr of constantly eating food that she had generally had sent to me. One delivery guy even told me she had told him over the phone that she would give him an extra $20 tip to watch and make sure I ate it all. I told him I'd tell her he did, and it was creepy, if he'd tell her I ate it all." We smiled, shook hands, and he left. He was back twice the next day though, saying "she keeps asking for me".
I woke up to a familiar knock one day, and that a catering service had begun lining a table with food just outside the door to my apartment. Confused, I looked outside and asked. "We're to help you bring all this in, and then help you clean it up. Don't worry, it's already been explained to us that it is a private venue, and so we will only be taking away the trash at the very end." And they just stood there.
"Er... okay." and they began moving the table inside. I rubbed my belly absentmindedly, feeling the increased softness, and wondering what my time frame was for eating all of it. No text message. I wanted to be done before she decided I needed to be done, though, so I just began to eat. And I ate, and ate, and ate... after 4 hours or so, I realized I really was full, having eaten a spread made for at least 10, probably more like 20. Don't text her that, I thought. Then I got a message. Shit! I was so close to being done, and it's surely lunch time now!
"Hope you enjoyed your breakfast, Master." Oooh, she was good. I had totally forgotten that I was actually going to get my turn as dom for this. I realized how much better this was all going to be for the animosity we had built up between us.
"Weight. Now. I want you to go to an all-you-can-eat buffet, and offer $20 of my money to someone there to record you eating. Tell him its for an attempt at a world record. Eat without stopping until they kick you out." Easy-peasy, I thought. I looked down at myself, and estimated that I had a good 15 pounds of flesh to be repaid to her. Now for the hard part. About 2 hours later, having noticed her pedometer stop moving, I called the restaurant, and asked to speak with the manager. I explained a woman would be there soon, or may already be there, who was going to make an attempt at a world record. I first suggested I understood that his establishment was not for such absurd over-eating as that, and added that I could pay for what she ate, as it would be more than a typical patron. I offered to pay for four other buffets, so that she could stay there longer.
It was around 8 PM, surely not long from when the buffet closed, when she finally sent me a series of camera phone videos. The quality was grainy, but all in all, it did seem to show her shoveling food into her mouth for over 6 straight hours, collapsing against the table at the end. The text on the movie read "Please call a taxi for me.".