Gretel - Alternate Ending (Patreon)

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Note: This is an alternate ending for Gretel.

-

Cona’s belly resembled a bolder. It was perched on the ground atop her spread thighs, which had already gone numb beneath it.

Cona grunted as the nozzle of a hose was stuffed into her mouth. Edna had found more efficient ways of feeding her. Cona felt her temples pour sweat as she was filled even more. It seemed Edna was serving pureed beef and buttery potatoes tonight, and the supply would be abundant, as always. Cona’s skin prickled as it steadily tightened, more and more food being pumped into her stomach. It never really softened anymore. She was always uncomfortably tight, stuffed beyond capacity, her body flushed and straining to accommodate the ever-increasing amounts of food.

Cona was not sure how long she had been living at Edna’s cabin, but she feared it had been a while. Long enough for her family to stop looking for her. Long enough that she had gotten strangely comfortable and could no longer imagine life on the outside.

The hose finished. Cona belched and groaned. Her belly itched and prickled, aching almost frighteningly, as it tremored and tightened, Cona feebly squirming her limbs.

She could no longer imagine getting up on her own. She had been perched in that spot for quite some time. Her belly was just so massive in contrast to the rest of her. Firm though it was, she didn’t think she has the strength or muscle definition to tote it around on her own.

Of course, this worked to Edna’s advantage. Cona was no longer much of an escape risk. The binds had come off some time ago. Sometimes, Edna even left the door unlocked when she went off to fish, or shop ,and do whatever else creepy old ladies did. Cona was certain the woman was just taunting her.

Cona sagged against her own mass, feeling drowsy, and fully intending to take a nap. She gave a muffled groan when she felt a chunk of her unruly hair being grabbed in a strong fist. Cona’s head was jerked back, and suddenly handfuls of goey, starchy gunk, was being stuffed into her mouth, sometimes interspersed with squirts of syrup or mouthfuls of shelled chocolate candies, but it was relentless. Cona gargled, groaned, and tried not to choke, kicking out feebly, while doing her best to swallow it all down.

It went on for at least an hour. Edna really seemed to be stepping things up today. Silent tears ran down Cona’s full cheeks. Her belly felt tense to the point of bursting. She fidgeted in her attempts to somehow alleviate some of the pressure, but there was just no way. She was too full, too tight.

When it was finally over, Cona was coughing and gasping for breath. She had lost her ability to vomit weeks before, too adapted to being stuffed. Once something was inside her, it was stuck there. “Ughhhh…” Cona moaned, genuinely afraid to touch her mass, as it gave almost violent jerks and heaves. Her face was puce and dripping sweat onto her plump breasts.

Edna regarded her. “I think you’re about ready.”

Cona gave a monstrous belch that seemed to reverberate throughout the room. Edna just gave a cruel smile and walked off, leaving Cona alone there on the floor, perched on an old mattress that might as well have been a thin sheet considering her weight against it. She gingerly tried to adjust, trying to spread her thighs more so they didn’t feel completely squashed. She heard a door open and close, but by the time she managed to twist her neck, there was no sign of Edna.

Edna had probably gone off on another of her errands, often purchasing more food to force down Cona’s throat. At the same time, there had been something rather eerie about the woman’s parting words. Cona lightly shook her head. Don’t let her get to you.

Though all her efforts had failed thus far, Cona made a rather perfunctory attempt to escape in Edna’s absence. She squirmed and struggled, several belches tearing up her throat. She tried to push her tight mass, then later to drag her ass across the floor, but any angle was useless. She was too huge, and admittedly fatter than the doorframe. By the time Cona decided to retire her efforts, she was so flushed and breathless, she passed out.

When she awoke, she was propped against her mass, practically suffocating against her own fatness. Edna was hovering over her, looking extremely amused.

“You moved a whole two inches,” the old woman taunted.

Cona just threw her a nasty look in response.

“It seems that our time together has finally come to an end,” said Edna. It was only then that Cona noticed that the woman was holding one of her hands behind her back.

In a flash of metal, a large gleaming knife was being brandished, and coming straight for Cona. Cona released a horrified shriek, doing everything she could to squirm back and away, using every muscle in her body to evade the weapon swinging at her throat.

She was just too heavy, immobilized by her own fatness. And it wasn’t all Edna’s doing. Why had she done this to herself?

Tears were streaming down Cona’s face. She knew escape was hopeless. Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced for the sharp pain. Hopefully it would be quick and clean. Edna could give her that, at least.

There was a loud banging noise, wood splintering. Tensing, Cona opened her eyes, staring in shock as people flooded in through the damaged door, half a dozen individuals in police uniforms. She was almost certain she was dreaming.

“Edna Foster, you are under arrest,” said one officers, as another handcuffed Edna’s arms behind her back.

It was only then that attention shifted down to Cona, who was sprawled on the floor, flushed and sweaty, her huge mound throbbing forcefully from all the excitement.

There was a pause as the officers all regarded her, looking astonished, some blinking or squinting, as if they were certain they were seeing things.

Finally one of them said, “Cona? Cona Markson?”

“Y-yes, that’s me,” Cona responded, breathlessly. “I—I’ve been here for a while.”

“We can see,” said one of the officers, before shutting his mouth, throwing a quizzical and disgusted look at Edna.

Another officer asked Cona, “Are you hurt? Are you in need to medical attention?”

“No,” said Cona. “Just…heavy,” she managed, unconsciously cradling her mound in an almost protective manner. The stares were unnerving, and she was being harshly acquainted with what an oddity she had become.

“Are you—how far along are you?” the closest officer asked. He had auburn hair. “You must be overdue. Are there—do you know how many?”

Cona reddened. “I’m not pregnant,” she mumbled.

Again, there was silence. Edna scoffed. The officer restraining Edna grimaced and began to shove her roughly towards the door.

“We’re going to take you to the hospital,” the officer closest to Cona spoke again. “You’ve been missing for half a year. You might not realize this, but you—you’re not well.”

“I um…okay,” Cona managed, feeling defeated for some reason. She didn’t particularly want to go to a hospital, but she couldn’t imagine herself going back home to her parents either. The only sources of familiarity for her were Edna and this cabin. And disturbingly enough, she was starting to feel hungry again. It’s from all the excitement, she told herself.

It took hours of waiting, and an extra, extra large gurney, and six more people worth of manpower to get Cona off the floor. Even then, the door frame had to be destroyed trees had to be chopped to navigate Cona out of the forest. It almost wasn’t even worth the effort. Cona even thought Edna should have been granted leniency rather than being arrested. Granted the elderly woman didn’t attempt to kill Cona again, or whatever.

At the hospital, Cona was swarmed with buzzing reporters and sobbing family members, who all seemed to pause and gawk at her massively distended abdomen. Cona was granted some privacy in her hospital room, and a full workup. To the bafflement of the prosecutors and law enforcement on the case, she was diagnosed only with fatness, and an extraordinary concentration of fat in her outrageously distended midsection. It was also said that her stomach had been stretched to a record size for a human.

The auburn-haired police officer hardly ever left her side. His name was Michael, and he was intrigued by her, but also quite…caring.

He conducted the on-site police interviews again and again, wanting to learn about her experiences with Edna and the old woman’s motivations. He was compiling all the details so that the prosecutors could decide on the most appropriate crimes to charge Edna with.

“I don’t even really want to press chargers,” Cona admitted breathlessly one day. It was a few weeks after she had been released from the hospital.

She was perched in her room at her family home, the doorframe widened and chairs replaced with huge, reinforced ones, just to accommodate her.

Her family was cagy and tiptoed around her. They didn’t know what to say most of the time, and treated her like a stranger.

Cona became agitated when there was any discussion of weight loss, and claimed fatigue, if just to dismiss the offending party, whether it was a medical professional, a social worker, a family member, or some other part of her team of overseers.

She had actually already lost some weight. At least a dozen pounds, between the meager hospital meals, and the rabbit-food her family seemed to provide her with. She felt absolutely starved and miserable. And empty.

She admitted this to someone for the first time. She confided in Michael. “I don’t hate Edna,” Cona murmured, cupping her too-soft mound. “I know she changed me but…I don’t hate her. I kind of accept the new me. And I don’t think I can go back to who I was before this. I don’t want to.”

Michael was staring at her in shock. He frowned and lowered his pen.

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” said Cona weakly.

“No Cona,” said Michael. “No it isn’t.”

-

Michael let Cona stay at his place for a while.

There was just something about her, he said, that drew him in.

Michael did what he could to help support her. Cona was fitted with a massive, custom maternity girdle that helped balance the mound against her. At times, she even had a heavily cushioned, four-wheeled wheelbarrow to roll her mound ahead of her. Though it had stopped growing for several weeks, it was slowly beginning to inch forward again with mass.

Every day, Michael provided her with massive amounts of food, before he stood by and simply watched her stuff herself. Sometimes she grew too full or tired to continue. Michael found the confidence to aid her. Spoon after spoon of fatty food was stuffed between her lips and swallowed down, to further stretch her gut.

Cona didn’t know her feeding records, but she suspected she had broken them. Her body seemed to relax and open up to Michael, who was kind rather than harsh as Edna had been. He rubbed, kneaded gut, and encouraged her to stretch, her muscles relaxing to his ministrations, her skin stretching and body opening it up. She was filled to extremes she had never experienced, body pushing out, bulging, and shuddering.

“Ohhh…” she groaned one afternoon, her flushed face beaded with sweat.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Michael comforted.

She nodded and breathed, trying her best to relax. She parted her lips to another chunk of chocolate cheesecake. It was so heavy, so decadent. She could feel the pressure intensifying with every bite.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Michael breathed.

She knew he meant it.

-

Wheelbarrow notwithstanding, Cona’s mobility steadily petered away with the passing days. Cona embraced the knowledge, no longer afraid of it. But in what she suspected to be the final days that she could stand, the newest girdle serving little purpose, and the wheelbarrow straining and creaking, barely containing the massive globe of a mound bulging out of it from all sides, Cona knew that there was one thing she had to do. After that, she would have no regrets, and she would not look back.

By the time she made it to the local jail, she was red and straining, veins bulging on her temples. Michael stayed at her side and offered what support he could, but there was only so much he could do.

Ignoring the gasps, stares, finger-pointing, and several inquisitions about her state (one guard insisted on doing a body search, and was near-horrified when he uncovered that the wheelbarrow indeed contained a massive mound of heaving flesh), Cona finally made it to her meeting with Edna. Not trusting the provided chairs to support her, she simply stood at the glass, opposite of her captor, her huge, throbbing body on full display. Her present state had little to do with Edna, and Cona wanted the woman to know it.

Edna’s eyes gleamed as she watched her. She lifted the phone. Cona did the same.

“What do you want?” said Edna hoarsely. She looked thin and weary, beaten down by her imprisonment and failure.

It took a while before Cona was able to respond. She panted wetly into the receiver, one hand gripping the side of her swollen mass, the other pressing the phone against her sweaty face. Finally she mustered the energy to say, “I wanted to thank you.”

The End

The End