The Harem on the Hill (Part LVIII) (Patreon)

One afternoon in March, you're relaxing in the octagonal garden at the center of your estate.  It's usually too cold in winter as the three-story compound that surrounds it limits its exposure to the seasonal sun; however, a lucky combination of timing and temperature has you soaking in rays and enjoying the flora and fauna that call the habitat home.  Despite the winter conditions, most of the birds and squirrels that reside in the fruitful environment have grown quite fat without the need to migrate or forage.  It's fitting you suppose.

The distant roll of a heavy metal door, one of eight entrances into the garden, signals you'll soon have company.  Although the harem for which you serve as Sultan now numbers a half-dozen members, there are really only two candidates as to who it could be: Tina or Bernadette.  Morgan and Anastasia have grown too fat and weak to do much besides eating and sleeping.  Tabitha, two weeks into her twice-daily feeding sessions with Tina, was confined to bed so as to not nullify the handiwork of your loyal Valide Sultan.  And while Debbie, the wayward teen you adopted last year, still liked to waddle through your woods from time to time, talking to the squirrels and whistling with the birds like a zaftig Snow White, the cold winter months and lots of comfort food have mostly turned her into a Sleeping Beauty.

You scurry from the gazebo and duck behind a shrubbery bordering the adjacent koi pond.  Through the leaves you watch Tina trudge her way up the trail.  She must have just finished her early session with Tabitha because she's still in her "grub scrubs," what she calls the goggles, rubber gloves, and surgical smock combo she wears for feedings.  The gloves and goggles are speckled with what appears to be cake mix and streaks of brownish goop are slopped across her smock.

The battered woman eventually makes it to the gazebo and collapses onto its bench swing with an exasperated sigh.  It creaks and moans like a haunted house as it heaves to and fro with her heft.  You're not sure what Tina's weight is now, but it's been trending upwards in recent weeks.  She's still a ways from her plumpness peak (which she reached last summer just before "the incident") but the bench, which was built for two, barely has room for both her ass and the goggles, which she yanks from her head and tosses in the seat beside her.

You creep from the brush and crouch behind the swing.  When it reaches its closest point, you grab Tina in a chokehold and yank downward, tilting the bench backward.

"Surprise!"

Tina's legs kick the air as her hands battle your arm for it.  For an instant, she rocks into your hold, possibly considering a backward flip into you.  It's a maneuver that might have worked 100 pounds ago, but in her present condition was more likely to result in personal injury.  Fortunately, she aborts the attempt in favor of something she was still capable of:

Reason.

"Not now, honey," she wheezes as placidly as possible.  "It's been a long day."

"Seem familiar?" you ask.

"Yes," she chokes.  "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

'You couldn't have killed me."  You loosen the grip around her windpipe, daring her to try something.

"Of course, I could...but you had that zapper of yours."

"I don't even need it anymore."  Your free hand slides under her smock and plies the pudge beneath.  "You've gotten soft.  Weak."

Tina squirms but is unable to extract herself.  "Let me go and I'll show you just how soft and weak I am."

"Is that a threat or a come-on?"

"Let me go and find out."

You lean forward and whisper in her ear, "I'm going to feed you like the cow you've become."

She turns her head and whispers tersely back, "you won't be able to."

Hmmm.  You could easily choke-out Tina, but the thought of giving her a fighting chance appeals to you.

What do you do?