Hansel, Part 2 (Patreon)

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Note: This is the male version of Gretel.

Summary: Connor is kidnapped then forced to eat exorbitant amounts of food. Contains: Male: weight gain, stuffing, belly expansion, breast expansion.

Previous Chapter

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To Connor’s surprise, Edna set a large platter of breakfast food before him on the floor.

Connor picked at it, but didn’t have much of an appetite. He glared at Edna resentfully, fearful of what the old woman was going to do to him.

But as the hours progressed…nothing happened. Edna bustled about in the kitchen, and Connor remained there, sitting on the ground, shifting here and there as his limbs got sore.

Edna again provided Connor with a large lunch and a substantial dinner, but by then, Connor was nothing but nerves. His appetite had all but disappeared and he could barely force anything down.

Before going off to bed, Edna cut Connor free of the radiator, and walked him to the bathroom. She closed the door behind Connor. It locked from the outside.

Once there, Connor stared at himself in the mirror, breathing for a while. His hair was tousled, and there were shadows under his eyes, but he was otherwise all right. He needed to forge a plan before that status changed.

Turning on the sink to disguise the sounds of his actions, Connor hurried over to the bathroom window, but it was locked, and barred. There would be no escaping that way.

Edna knocked on the door, and Connor knew his time was up. He turned off the sink and walked over to the door. As it opened, he tried to tackle Edna, but the old woman was surprisingly strong. Effortlessly, she drew Connor’s arms behind his back, dragged him over to the radiator, and tied him up again.

And to top off the bizarreness of the woman’s behavior, Edna went back into the kitchen, and returned shortly with…dessert.

“Eat up,” said Edna, lowering the biggest ice cream sundae Connor had ever seen to the floor between them.

Connor became suspicious. He refused to touch it, and Edna looked increasingly displeased.

That night, as Edna slept in the next room, Connor struggled with the rope binding his ankle. He rubbed it against the edge of the old radiator, hoping the friction would break the fibers down. He made very little progress, but some. By morning, he was exhausted.

His stomach grumbled as the aroma of eggs and sausage filtered from the kitchen.

Again, Edna presented Connor with a heaping platter of food. And this time, Edna wouldn’t let up.

“Eat it,” Edna warned her, gripping her walking stick so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. “I don’t want to hurt you, dear.”

Connor hesitated, and lifted his fork. He placed some eggs into his mouth, eying Edna suspiciously as he did so. If he wasn’t poisoned, he would just grow weaker, and more helpless, until he starved anyway. He supposed the former was preferable.

Connor cringed at the taste of the eggs. Oil oozed out of it as he compressed it with his teeth. It was a bit of a digression from his vegan diet, but under Edna’s dangerous stare, he realized eating was his safest option.

Connor stuffed several more forkfuls into his mouth then reluctantly ate some bacon as well. He stopped when he was more than full, though three-quarters of the platter remained, and Edna was still tightly gripping her walking stick.

“Keep going, dear,” she said, and it was practically a threat.

Taking a deep breath, Connor lifted the fork again. Beginning to sweat, he struggled to work his way through lard-plumped sausages, buttery hot cakes, a stack of syrup-covered waffles, in addition to a pitcher of the sweetest orange juice he’d ever tasted. Only when he had finished every bite did Edna seem satisfied. Edna gathered up the dishes and went about, humming pleasantly to herself. Connor grunted in discomfort while clutching his tight midsection.

Just what was Edna’s agenda?

The same thing occurred at lunch just a few hours later, this time Connor forced to eat a dozen tuna fish sandwiches that were more mayonnaise than they were tuna.

By dinner, Connor was lethargic from lack of movement. He still felt full, and sick from lunch. Edna brought out thick macaroni with sausage, mashed potatoes with butter-chunks in it, two loaves of oil-dripping garlic bread, and a turkey quarter, all of it drizzled in thick oil.

Just the sight of it made Connor want to hurl. He turned his nose away.

Edna rattled her stick threateningly, but still Connor refused to eat.

Frowning, Edna walked off, and Connor felt somewhat satisfied that he had won on some small level. But a few moments later, Edna returned, and she was holding a photograph. She handed it to Connor, whose eyes grew wide.

It was a photo of his younger sister in those very woods. She was sitting by the lake where the two of them would often fish together. She was frowning at her reflection in the surface, looking forlorn.

“Where did you get this?” said Connor, his throat tight. But he already knew the answer. The photo looked quite recent. Edna had taken it herself.

“This is your sister, is it not?” Edna responded.

“What are you going to do to her?”

“Nothing...yet,” Edna said. She nudged the platter closer to Connor with her walking stick.

Pale and shaky, Connor forced himself to lift one of the loaves of garlic bread. He bit a chunk out of it, his stomach aching in protest. It took him two hours, but bite by bite, he forced dinner down, Edna watching him the whole time. Afterwards, Edna provided him with a whole chocolate cake for dessert! Connor could barely get it down, but he did. He ate till he was red, and aching, his body soaked in sweat. He managed not to throw up a bite of it. Satisfied, Edna went off to bed.

That night Connor slept on his corner of the floor by the radiator, groaning and clutching his belly. It was tight and sticking out against his waistband. He was so uncomfortable, he barely got any sleep, nor did he make any progress with the rope.

When Connor opened him eyes at sunrise, he felt relieved by how much his belly had softened. It was no longer painfully tight. But his relief was short-lived when he sat up and noticed the large breakfast that had already been set out for him.

The massive feedings continued for the next few days, Connor forced to consume tens of thousands of calories a day. Connor tried not to think about it much. He just did as Edna said, lest the old woman rattled her stick, or threatened the lives of Connor’s family members. It could have been worse. He wasn’t being tortured. Still, Connor continuously wondered what Edna wanted from him.

Most evenings, Connor’s stomach usually stuck out, taut, gurgling, and aching unpleasantly. And in the mornings, it was usually gone, the food digested, his body having absorbed it. But as of late, Connor found that his belly remained bloated in the mornings. Softer, but present.

Connor looked at himself in the bathroom mirror one afternoon. His face seemed fuller, flushed as his metabolism struggled to keep up with his new eating habits. His usually boney shoulders seemed softer as well. Where he'd had a flat stomach in the past, he had begun collecting a small paunch of fat against his waistband. He stared at it.

Connor washed his face then knocked on the bathroom door to indicate that he was ready to leave. As the days passed, his portions sizes continued to subtly increase as the servings got more fattening, were that even possible. Connor was getting so accustomed to eating, he often did it without thinking. He automatically shoveled food into his mouth, despite how his stomach tightened in protest. He knew the rules. Edna cooked. He ate. That instruction had become ingrained into his mind.

One morning, Connor was surprised to wake up hungry. His stomach grumbled, and he worried that he was getting too used to this forced lifestyle.

His belly weight was piling on. It was no longer sitting behind his waistband, but bulging over it. Connor was embarrassed to find that his old, torn clothes were steadily getting smaller on him. His pants were definitely tighter, the button straining against his mound. And his shirt had taken to riding upwards. He had to consistently pull it down. He was also developing small mounds on his chest that disgusted him a bit.

Every night, Connor struggled to erode his binds, but the feedings made him lethargic, and he usually fell asleep before making much progress. The more he ate, the more hopeless his situation seemed to grow.

Then one day, Edna simply untied him.

Connor was stunned.

“You're doing so well now. I think it'll be okay if you want to walk about,” Edna said.

Connor could only stare. Cautious, he continued to lurk in his corner, suspicious of Edna's intentions. Maybe this was some sort of trick.

Later, when Edna was busy in the kitchen, Connor found the courage to go into the bathroom on his own.

He stared at what had become of his physique in the mirror.

Connor cupped his belly. It was soft, plump, and round. He could have passed as a woman with child. Feeling insecure, Connor tugged at his shirt, but concealing the mass was becoming futile.

That afternoon after lunch, Edna took a nap. Connor took the opportunity to try opening the front door, but it was sealed with several bolt locks that necessitated various different keys. Connor then tried all the windows in the house, but like the one in the bathroom, they were barred. There was no escaping. That was why Edna had no qualms with letting him loose now.

Becoming resigned, Connor sat back down on the floor.

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