Well, there wasn’t much reason for her not to ask, even if just as confirmation, she’d have to get her daughter eating willingly at some point anyway after all. So it shouldn’t be odd that Carol went on with it despite her light impatience, the urgency only coming from her decision toward acting, she couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted it now rather than in the nearing future.
“What’s wrong Jillian?” She started, crouching a bit to be closer to the girl, “Just come over here and I’ll get you some food. I’m sure you’re getting hungry with all the fun you and Snow are having, aren’t you?”
“I- I...” Stammering lightly in confusion, only another question was managed as a response, “Pig?”
“Yes honey, you’re going to be my adorable little piggy, won’t that be nice? I’ll explain some more if you come over and sit down okay?”
Glancing at the chair, and the food, and back again, it took a few minutes before a wobbling “O-okay.” finally fled the toddler’s mouth, curiosity getting her better alongside the touch of fear as she started over.
“Good girl,” came following a moment later, aligning with Carol’s arms lifting up her adorable little girl to where she’ll be sitting for quite a while, possibly even for the time between this meal and the next ones. “now I’ll start explaining as I organize the plates then. You just listen and maybe eat a bite or two.” The light teasing went, with the mother leaning over her child’s head as she continued, “Well, I’m sure you don’t have much trouble with the gist of it do you? You have some dash of understanding toward what I’m going to do to you, don’t you?”
“You called me ‘piglet?’”
“Yes I did, and do you have any guesses why? The food in front of you should be a hint.”
“You-You’re gonna...” The toddler tried, utter confusion soaking her voice, “make me fat?”
“You’re right! I’m going to make into the most adorable little pudge ball you can be,” Bringing over a bite of the chocolate-chip pancake as she asked, “doesn’t that sound nice? Being a precious little piggy for me to spoil?”
Predictably, the highchair’s occupant simply shook her head at the possibility, doubting the fun she could have with that experience, but her otherwise loving mother didn’t much seem to care whether or not she’d convinced her daughter to say anything aside from “no,” which, given that denial was the result, was good in regards to keeping away any disappointment. But it wasn’t too optimistic a resolve for the intended victim of all this, after all, Carol only needed her malnourished charge to open her mouth and let her shove the first bite in, which, obviously, she did, not really minding the “Mmph!” it provoked.
“It’s okay, I know you’re just a little scared since this is new, so I’ll do my best to get you to love this as much as I do. It’ll be so cute once you’ve gotten greedier, demanding more food and getting wider all on your own.” The Blonde continued, beginning to ramble as her imagination left her behind, thinking of the ravenous, flabby little princess she wanted and drooled over, not even fully noticing that she’d started feeding the unwanting two-year-old faster, the pancakes already diminished to a few bites.
Thankfully for Jillian, though that being the case was a touch debatable, her feeder was broken out of that reverie from just that activity, the resulting unlikable screeching of her fork against the emptied plate to be more exact. So, after the resulting flinch, the woman finally gave another look at her yet thin child, seeing the lines of stress-brought tears for the first time. “I’m sorry dear,” was the first thing past the offender’s lips, their face lowering to be level with the girl’s as she brought the second dish closer, “you know I’m not trying to hurt you right? I just can’t hold back any longer about wanting to see you as cute as I can make you. So please don’t make this too hard, okay?” She tried, her half-ignored guilt hoping to convince her target to cooperate willingly, not that she’d stop if they didn’t, the ending note holding true to that, “Since I’m going to make certain you eat your fill either way.”
For now at least, the toddler was only somewhat bothered, she didn’t much like this, no, but she also wasn’t in much of any pain, not even truly stuffed yet, if quite close to it. They didn’t really know how long it would continue, it was all new so far, and the girl still had a pocket of room before she started to hurt. So the to-be piglet merely went along with it, more thought being put toward when it might be over rather than escape, not quite realizing how desperately her mother wanted her results. Again, it wouldn’t be long at all before she started learning, much the same towards the hurting that came with that. There was such a thing as using a carrot as the stick, or, it might be better to say that the stick was being sold as the carrot, only waiting for such to be believed.
So, past the last moments of mere discomfort, the young blonde began moving, shifting a bit back and forth in a small but growing attempt at avoidance, gaining light success before her mother fully recognized it happening, the smears of butter, syrups or grease decorating bits of her cheeks and face. The problem this held, ignoring the predictable result of the toddler’s head simply being forced still, was that Carol’s desires, her goals, were nothing quite about having a dainty, proper little girl who followed etiquette, no, she wanted an adorable glutton of a child who didn’t have even the slightest of restraints toward food, not a thought spared toward a bite missing her mouth when there was another handful to shove in it instead, nor one to if she was alone or in company. And, as could be divined, the matron’s head had a small flood of these ideas, all too distracting for her to put any focus to Jillian’s capacity, though she still talked to her toddler, guilt refusing to give up the lying possibility of consent.
“What’s wrong? Do you want something else?” It started, pretending the resistance was mere pickiness, “Dessert maybe? I think we have some chocolate cake in the fridge, or I know that we have some pudding at least.”
“F-hah Full.” Came panted out, an equally unsatisfying “...no more...” was there as well, if a bit quieter, each weakening the thirty-some oppressor's remorse in favor of her impatience, she wanted them begging for more, not the opposite. Regardless, she wasn’t pushed quite far enough to be rude, the only thing she didn’t love about her daughter was her size, so no need to bully the rest.
“No more breakfast then?” Continuing to willingly misinterpret, she took a moment to look over the notably full girl, “Then I’ll go grab some sweets then, they should be good until I’ve made you something better won’t they? I would hate to keep you unsatisfied.” The Blonde promised, half-ignoring how solid the dismayingly meager middle was, though, the disgruntling tightness it had did remind her that Rome hadn’t been built in a day, no matter how hard she wished for it.
Not to mention the light internal renovations, it wouldn’t be fun at all to have her daughter as big as she could be if the little piglet was just a solemn lump through it, but how could she be encouraged to take it any other way? Sighing a little to herself in relief, Carol was almost glad that it wouldn’t happen as fast as she wanted, it only meant more time to convince the two-year-old to enjoy it and each of the activities she’d thought up. So, patting the hardened bulge as she stood up, the parent moved over to the cupboards, finding the candy she’d promised, and pondering what to do once no more food would fit.
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