________________________________________
It's been a little over a year since you and Rya started dating. You celebrated your first anniversary with a feast for two and a romantic weekend in, then sorta continue the celebration by visiting your old friends the following weekend.
Presently it's late on a Saturday night, you've just stepped out of a bar, pleasantly buzzed after an evening of barhopping with your old crew. Rya's a few moments behind, having dipped for a supposed bathroom break, though possibly escorting one of your old ladyfriends. You're staring into the night sky, thinking insipidly happy thoughts about your relationship and clumsily reflecting on the fun weekend. A chuckle to yourself as you tally up your drink total for the evening; you can't quite nail down the exact value, but it's a good bit higher than what you recalled from your younger days (excluding the most focused nights of collegiate debauchery of course). You pat your rounded gut, enjoying the sensation of your warm, yielding flesh and considering exactly what sort of junk food should cap off the night, when a voice you never expected to hear again stings your ears, shattering your hazy reverie and yanking you back into the moment.
"Heyyyy Anon.... You're - you're lookin' goood.... Lookin' real plump..."
Even when slurred by alcohol, you easily identify the flirty speaker.
It's Amber, your evil ex. Beholding her is such an overwhelming and unwelcome shock that you almost don't respond.
You freeze for just an instant after turning to face her. She's by herself, and is swaying heavily. Amber's definitely quite drunk, and frankly she kinda looks like shit. Her hair is a mess, as is her makeup – she was probably crying recently, and she generally seems far less toned and put-together than you've ever seen. Her trendy tight dress doesn't seem to sit properly on her body, either.
"Hello, Amber," you reply flatly. "You look like shit. What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to apologize," she slurs.
You narrow your eyes.
"You're extremely drunk, and this is far from the first time you've claimed remorse," you reply icily. "Plus the first thing you say to me is a comment on my weight. Bad start."
"I'm sorry... I just... It's been a long day, and I'm just lonely..."
Anger flares at her self-pity, but you keep it mostly in check. "Oh you poor thing," you respond acidly. "Well, it's a little late to apologize, don't you think?"
She tries to straighten up and looks at you with puffy, bloodshot eyes. "I know I've been awful to you. I've made your life hell."
You want nothing more than to turn on your heel and leave Amber in the dust, but you're stuck waiting for Rya to return from the bar. Mercifully, you hear the door open right about then and Rya waddles out.
"Anon! What's going on? Who's..." she asks, having noticed your stern expression, then following your glare towards Amber.
Amber makes a noise that might be a hiccup or a giggle. "Who's this?" She asks.
"My name is Rya," Rya says, walking up to you and taking your hand tightly. "And you could only be Amber."
"I'm-I'm really sorry...." Amber says, slurring and staring unsteadily at Rya. "I've been a real cunt to your.... Your.... Boyfriend.... (sniff) God, you look good... So big and round.... So much sexy fucking fat..."
"Wow, fuck off," Rya says.
"And we're done here," you say, turning in unison with Rya to leave. "Bye, Amber. See you again never!"
You leave Amber to her own drunken fate, ignoring her increasingly desperate cries as you walk away.
"Anon! I'm sorry! Really!"
"My life's gone to shit! I actually... I actually feel guilty!"
"I'm even going to therapy! I want to be less of a cunt!"
You and Rya are about to turn a corner, when Amber's last plea stops you dead.
"I want you to make me fat!"
Your shoe freezes in midair, like somebody hit Pause.
After a moment off-balance, then after setting back down, you turn to stare at Rya. She stares back at you, equally dumbfounded. You've heard all kinds of crazy things from Amber over the two years you've dated her. You've heard her sound guilty and contrite on plenty of occasions. All lies, of course.
Those last seven words of hers... They seem imbued with an honesty you've never heard before. Rya squeezes your hand, indicating that she'll back you up regardless of your choice. You sigh, and decide to take a chance.
You turn to face Amber, and call back, "What? What are you talking about?"
Amber's heels clip-clop steadily louder as she approaches. "I want you to make me fat! Specifically, I want you to fatten me up!"
You're horrified. Rya looks horrified, too.
Amber's caught up with you, and leans against a wall.
"Amber, that's insane," you say. "Assuming you're actually telling the truth, why would you want that?"
"I know it's insane! That's why I want you to do it!"
"I'm not going to-"
She looks at the ground and hangs her head. She takes a breath and explains quietly, "Because... Because it's the only way to make things right..."
Amber looks to you with a chilling emptiness in her eyes, a desperation, a pleading. You've never seen her like this before: broken, hollow, sad, weak. She never begs. That exact phrase was a point of pride for her at several moments during your relationship with her.
"Amber, are you sure you're telling me the truth?"
She silently nods. Then she explains, "I know you probably think I'm lying, and you probably don't care, but my life fucking fell apart after we broke up. I lost my job, I had a meltdown and got some therapy. There I learned that I'm sick - I'm... I'm... a n-n..n.... (gasp)... Narcissist..."
"And I had a whole new breakdown after feeling all the guilt over how I treated you like a fucking... chewtoy, fucktoy..."
A fat tear trickles down her cheek.
"I don't want to go back to the way I was. I want to treat people like people, I want to stop manipulating them. Here I am, still fucking making it about me! Anon, it's so fucking hard... I've been a monster all my life, it's all I've ever known..." As she speaks, she steadily crumples, winding up on her knees and awkwardly leaning against the wall.
You feel sick. The words she's just said are things you never thought she was capable of feeling. All you can do is watch this pathetic and surreal outburst. As you realize that you should say something, you have to force your wooden tongue and throat back into action. You choke out, "Amber... Surely you understand why I'd have trouble believing you. You've put on shows like this before."
"I know, I'm sorry... I can't blame you for not believing me." Amber sniffs. Another tear rolls down her cheek, this one leaving a faint trail of eyeliner.
"I can't believe I'm even considering this, but why, pray tell, would you getting fat help with this?"
Despair is written all over Amber's face, and you even think it's genuine. She replies, "It's not just me being fat. I specifically need you to make me fat. I have to hand you the control over my body. I need to experience being helpless like you did. Seeing my body change will be a reminder that my mind needs to change too."
She stares at you with pleading eyes. You're utterly at a loss for words. You hold your head in your hands, closing your eyes tightly as you try to think. Rya holds your hip tightly, committing every bit of this mad exchange to memory.
"Jesus fucking Christ..." You groan.
"Again, I can't believe I'm taking this seriously, but let's run through this," you say wearily. "Honestly it sounds like you just want to reverse what our old relationship was. Surely you understand why that won't work." You pull Rya close for emphasis.
"I know, but... but you're the only one who can do it," Amber pleads.
You reply in disbelief, "Amber, I can't drop everything to make a new hobby of domming you into gaining weight. I'm one hundred percent committed with Rya" - who interjects with a "goddamned right" - "And even if I were still single, I live out of town now. If you're honestly guilty, then I'm glad of that I think, but I think you need to find another way to do your personal penance."
The shift in Amber's bearing and countenance is subtle, but you can instantly tell that your words have broken something in her. Impossibly enough, you feel a stab of guilt as she stares up at you, gaze hollow and her lip trembling slightly.
"I'm sorry," you say softly.
"I know," she replies in a tiny voice. "I understand..."
"I... I want to believe you, Amber. But I'm just not sure I can. Besides, what you want just isn't right," you explain. "For all our sakes, I hope you're telling the truth. I hope you're committed to getting better. Keep going to therapy. Maybe we'll meet again." You and Rya turn to leave.
Amber watches you leave, but says nothing, slowly clambering back to her feet. She turns her gaze back to the wall, then sets her head against it, and begins to gently weep. In the implausible silence of this moment deep in town, you can just barely hear the quiet slow splat of her tears on the concrete.
Without turning to face you, she chokes out one last thing, "Anon. I still have the same phone number if you change your mind."
You silently turn your back on her and walk away from the bar, Rya alongside you and squeezing your hand in a death-grip. The two of you lose Amber's sobs to the quiet buzz of town, getting back to a main road and slowly setting a path back to your nearby hotel.
After ensuring that Amber isn't following you, you and Rya walk the handful of blocks back to your room. The two of you are practically silent the whole time, even as you begin prepping for bed. It's only once you've checked the door to your room and you're in bed that Rya finally speaks up.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks.
You sigh heavily and answer truthfully, "I don't know what to think right now. I just need some time to mull this over."
Rya seems to understand, and doesn't press you any further. You uneasily drift off to sleep with the same questions plaguing your mind.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next morning, the two of you pack up after putting a dent into the complimentary breakfast offerings. The morning is pleasant, and you make some small talk as you start driving back to Novaville, but there's definitely still a cloud hanging over you and Rya. Again, she doesn't press, but you suspect she wants to. The two of you stop for gas and snacks after a quick jog on the highway, then after a few more minutes of cruising, Rya broaches the subject again.
"What do you think she wanted?" Rya asks.
"What do you mean?"
"Amber, right? What do you think she wanted?"
You fidget with your phone and watch the scenery roll by.
"Rya," you ask. "Do you really think she was telling the truth? Do you really think she wants to change?"
Rya thinks for a moment before answering. Her eyes are on the road as she replies, "It was really hard to square the pitiful drunk girl from last night with the firebreathing hell-bitch you told me about. And to be clear, I absolutely believe your stories about Amber. I could easily see shades of the bitchiness within."
"Then why was she acting so desperate?" You ask.
"Well, one possibly is that she's still lying her ass off. You must've considered that as possible."
"Yes, I have. That'd be some serious commitment on her part, but I know she's a really good liar."
You scratch your chin and continue, "Option B is that she's telling a half-truth. She does want to gain weight, but it's part of some weird extended kinky roleplay. Maybe something flipped in her brain and she's super submissive now."
Rya laughs, a short, sharp noise.
"And option C, she's honestly trying to change. She really is."
Rya nods along in agreement, "Yeah, that's about how I see it too."
She then quickly glances over her shoulder, flips the signal indicator, and changes lanes. "All this said, you know we're not on our own. Why not pull in your friends and see what they think?"
"Yeah, good idea," you answer, and start a group chat with your old crew.
Rya merges into the lane that peels off of the highway and connects with the route to Novaville. She then says, "For the record, I'm comfortable letting you handle this however you like. With the exception of anything involving intimacy with her."
She spits out the last sentence as if it's a piece of rotten food.
"Of course," you say. "I am two hundred percent going to keep some distance. Which is why I'm keeping you involved, if you want to be."
"If I'm ever uncomfortable, I'll let you know right away," Rya says. "Otherwise, if Amber messes with you, she messes with us. Both of us."
"Got it."
She holds out her hand and you exchange comforting squeezes. The two of you make an effort to turn the conversation to lighter topics for the rest of the ride.
You explain the situation to your group text, and over the course of the ride your old acquaintances all weigh in with their opinions on the situation. By the time you and Rya return to her apartment, all of your old crew has replied, and unfortunately it's a split ticket – they can't agree on whether or not Amber is telling the truth about her guilt.
"So what do you want to do?" Rya asks as she locks the front door.
"I don't know..." You reply despondently, and flop onto Rya's couch.
She gently settles her bulk onto the couch next to you and pats your thigh. "Then it's your call," she says. "I won't judge you either way."
You murmur an acknowledgment, then spend an agonizing moment in thought.
Do you believe that Amber is genuinely sorry for what she's done, and is willing to do whatever it takes to make up for it?
For the second time with your potentially dangerous ex, you decide to take a risk. Though you're uncertain of her motivations, you feel confident that you can keep yourself safe from Amber's manipulations.
"I'm going to unblock her number," you finally say.
"I'm not going to judge you if you change your mind," Rya says, and pats your thigh again.
"That depends on whether or not she behaves."
"Good," she says, smiling.
Though you long since deleted her contact info and text history, you clearly recall Amber's cell number in spite of yourself. You clear her entry from your phone's blocked numbers list, and send her a simple message.
"Amber, this is Anon. Rya and I are willing to give you a shot. Let us know when we can set up a call."
Her reply comes surprisingly promptly.
"What do you want me to do?" she asks.
"We can start a video call, all three of us, then we can hammer out how this will work."
"...ok, I can talk right now," Amber texts back.
You and Rya squeeze close on the couch, initiate the video call, then wait for Amber to pick up.
She does so after a few rings and turns on the camera. Her face appears on the tiny screen; she's still a mess, probably from nursing a ferocious hangover all day. Your emotions swell again, but this time a different mix from last night, and different from what you would have expected from seeing her once more. The overwhelming feeling is of amusement and confusion. How did you ever let this self-hating, hurtful woman ever have power over you at all?
"Hey, Anon, Rya, I'm on," she says tiredly.
You glance at Rya, who nods her head encouragingly.
"Alright. Amber, do you remember last night? What you said when you saw me outside the bar?"
"Sure, I said I was sorry."
"That's not what I asked," you say.
"I remember."
"Do you really?"
Amber takes a sip of water from a plastic cup.
"Yeah, I do. There's a good chunk of that night I'm missing, but I definitely recall that."
She sighs, and that appearance of contrition comes over her again. "I was fucking horrible to you, and I'm getting therapy and trying to be a better person. And I think that in order to really make that change stick, I need you to make me fat."
Despite hearing her bizarre request for the second time, you're still floored.
"Is that last step therapist-approved?" You ask.
"Of course it is," Amber says.
You stare her down through the screen, and she wilts. Another first.
"Well, sort of," she admits. "Sorry, reflexive lying and all that. He actually says I likely have an adversarial relationship with food, and that it might be helpful to give myself permission to indulge more."
You exhale wearily. "Amber, this really isn't a good start. I'm not going to be a secret you keep from your therapist."
"I know, I know..."
"At the very least you should tell him about this urge you've got," you say. "You need to be honest. It's going to be awkward, it's going to feel shitty. I don't know why I'm giving you a second shot, but one of my conditions is that you do most of this work with an actual professional."
"I'll do that, if that's what you want," she says.
"It is."
"Alright. Fine. I'll be honest with him, but you have to do this."
"I don't have to do shit," you reply, maybe a touch louder than you intended. "This isn't a game. Not for you, and certainly not for me. You want to be less of a monster? Well, a huge part of that is by playing by others' rules. You got that?"
"I'm sorry," she says timidly. "I'm going to be good from now on, I swear. I'll talk with my therapist and all that shit, and get my head on straight."
You sigh wearily again. You make eye contact with the image of Amber on your screen.
"Amber," you start, your tone serious. "I need you to be honest with me. Is this weight gain desire you have part of some kink thing? I know very well the history you have with dominance and feeder fetishes."
"No! That's not it at all," she says, her face scrunched up in a look of disgust. "But I do get why you'd wonder that."
"Ok," you reply. "I'll take your word for that. Now I remember you said last night that you wanted to gain weight as a sort of guilty power-exchange thing to clear your conscience. Is that what's gotten into you?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Guess?"
"It's hard to put into words," Amber explains. "Like I said last night it just feels like I've got a huge karmic imbalance in this part of my life. And you, you specifically, Anon, having some influence over me, providing some push, some control even into making me overeat, I need to experience some figment of the shame and helplessness I inflicted on you."
"I see... That is... a lot. Still. Especially to be asking me of all people."
"I know," she says. "I feel terrible even asking for this. I know that you can't be cruel in the way I was."
You laugh bitterly. "When I was at my maddest and most ashamed with you, I probably could have really brought it."
"But that doesn't matter now. I don't want revenge on you, I don't want you to suffer. Frankly I'd have been happy to simply never see you again. The only reason we're even talking right now is because of the chance that I might have some role in helping you become a better person."
"I'm sorry," she says, trying not to cry. "I know this is a lot to ask, and I know it's a shitty deal overall, but I do want to be better. I swear it."
"Ther-a-pist," you enunciate each syllable with conviction. "You tell him this, all of these gory details. And find some way to bring receipts. The only way I'll even consider doing some Svengali woo-woo psycho shit to you is if he explicitly agrees to this, and thinks it'll be integral to your healing."
"Fine," she sniffles. "I'll do that."
"I'm a believer in second chances, Amber. It's why I'm even entertaining the notion that this is more than some weird bit you cooked up," you say. "But part of that second chance means you putting in the hard work yourself. Ok? This isn't me refusing you, it's me asking you to ensure that this is the right thing to do."
She nods. "I'll see what I can do."
"Good," you say.
You lean forward, preparing to terminate the call. "Anything else?"
Amber's haggard face tightens a touch, "I've got an appointment tomorrow, actually. It's not going to be fun."
"Doing the right thing seldom is," you reply. "Get some rest."
"You too," she says.
You hang up, and sigh once more. You're glad that it's over with, for now.
Rya immediately rolls over to comfort you. Her squishy warm body is particularly nice right now, and you snuggle into her. "That can't have been easy. I'm impressed with how you stood up to her. I'd probably sill be scared of somebody like her."
You settle your head onto Rya's shoulder, mulling over the call. "Whatever spark might have once been there, it's well and truly gone. Instead, there's a wall. And by peering over that wall, somehow her bullshit just seems so much more flimsy."
"I'm actually pretty proud of you," she continues. "It takes a lot of maturity to want somebody like that to be better even after wronging you."
You smile, and sigh. "I don't know. I think there's still a chance, though."
"You'll never know if you don't try."
You laugh. "Honestly, it's all probably a moot point. Even if Amber spills all this messy goss to her therapist, there's no way he'll agree to her plan. Ex is just gonna have to figure herself out."
"Yeah, I'm sure you're right," Rya says.
You roll over onto your back, and your eyes flutter shut. Rya gently shakes you awake. "C'mon, there's a much comfier bed just over there," she laughs and points towards her bedroom.
"But that means I'd have to get up," you say with a jokey affected whine.
Rya laughs, rising to her feet and tugging at your arms. "C'mon fatty," she giggles. "It's a bad sign when I'm the less lazy one of the pair!"
You grin and let her drag you to your feet, then wrap your arms around her wide, squishy middle.
But, instead of embracing Rya, you slide your arms down lower, sweeping them over the bulging globes of her ass, and settling where her butt meets her thighs. Before she can inquire or react, you squish your arms upwards into her chub, set your feet, crouch down, and inhale, gathering your strength.
Rya's indignant-surprised shriek is drowned out by your extended deep grunt, as you lift her quarter-ton bulk off the ground. She gasps and giggles and struggles in your grip, but thankfully leans herself forward against you and braces her chubby arms on your shoulders.
"Hey, put me down!" she laughs. "You'll hurt yourself!"
Between strained breaths, you manage to get out, "I'll... Be fine.. Just... Don't... Squirm..."
Rya whines, but does her best to hold still against your torso. You get underway, making neanderthal grunts with every slow, plodding step. Your arms and knees protest more loudly with every passing second, but you're steadily making your way to the bedroom. With your last bit of strength, you exhale and lower Rya's massive butt onto the bed without dropping her, then extricate your arms and gently dive forwards atop her.
"Holy shit, I can't believe you actually did that, baby!" Rya giggles, as your head swims and you gulp down air.
"Yeah, me neither. But, I told you I'm strong," you laugh and stretch your exerted limbs, then add, "Though I'm definitely glad you're keeping yourself limber..."
Rya pats your chest and coos, "Right, so if you can still carry me then that means I can upgrade to double milkshakes after dinner, plus-"
You playfully cut her off by pressing your hand against her face. Her lips curl into a smile under your fingers, and you say, "Eat all you want, dumpling. You'll never be too big for me."
She grips your hand, pulling it away from her mouth, then tugging you close. "Even if I get too big for you to carry? How about if I get too big to walk?" She purrs.
"Then I'll just roll you around everywhere," you reply with a grin.
Rya kisses you then says, "Well I don't know about that, but I know you're gonna roll around with me tonight. Get those clothes off, baby!"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next day, you receive a phone call at work that has you stunned. Your disbelief persists through the remainder of your day, and even after sharing the news with Rya still feels unreal.
"Hi, Anon, this is Doctor Alan Peck. I'm the therapist handling Amber Castillo's case," a kindly voice comes from your phone. "The fact that you're even hearing from me means that Amber has agreed in writing to disclose the details of her case with you."
Rya simply stares at you wide-eyed. The two of you haven't even opened your pizzas yet.
The message continues, "It's unusual, but not unheard of. I think you and I have a bit to discuss in relation to Ms. Castillo, and I believe you may have a role to play in her treatment if you're comfortable. Feel free to get in touch, my number is..."
You listen to the doctor's spiel. Though you're not really sure you're ready for all of the details, you're willing to call the doctor back. You think.
Rya says, "Anon? You ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
You open your pizza box and pull a slice free. You take a big bite of the thick-crusted, cheesy, meaty goodness. You chew and swallow thoughtfully, then say, "Either Amber has really stepped up her lying game, or she's actually serious for once."
Rya chuckles. "We'll see how things go. Will you call the doctor back?"
You finish your slice and sigh. "Sure."
With that, you and Rya put the issue to bed. You sit and eat your pizzas together, then you while away the evening hanging out and playing videogames.
The next day, you resolve to reach out to Doctor Peck, and make plans to dip out of work a little early. By the late afternoon, you and Rya are again squeezed together on the couch and you've again got your phone propped up. You start a video call with the doctor.
"Hello, Anon, how have things been going?" Doctor Peck's voice comes through the phone. A moment later, he turns on his camera. A thirty-something man in glasses appears on screen. He's bald, fair-skinned, round-faced, and has a gentle smile. "And who might this lovely lady be?"
You nudge Rya to answer. "Hi," she says. "I'm Rya Thompson. Anon and I have been dating for a while. Preemptive warning, whatever happens here, we're doing it together."
Doctor Peck nods. "Right. Normally that might be an issue, but Amber specified that you'd be party to the proceedings if you wished."
"She really signed off on that?" Rya asks, surprised.
The image of the doctor nods his head.
Rya replies, "Wow, ok, I didn't expect that..." She nudges you back and says, "Alright, I'm gonna let Anon drive now, but I'll still be here."
"Ok, so back to the matter at hand," you say. "To answer your original question, doc, things got a whole lot more interesting this weekend after I accidented into my ex."
You recount your meeting with Amber outside of the bar, what she asked you to do, and how she maintained her contrition and her odd desire after sobering up. The doctor nods thoughtfully through your words. "Yes. Amber recounted her discussions with you, and all of her details line up with your version of events. I'm pleased with her progress towards being more honest."
You nod.
"Oh!" Doctor Peck seems to surprise himself. "I almost forgot, I'm sending you a brief summary of Amber's sessions, some of the background in them might be worth knowing."
You narrow your eyes slightly, "Doctor Peck, I assume that's a step she's taking in the name of transparency and honesty?"
"Exactly."
You nod, and soon a file is downloaded onto your phone.
"Thank you, Anon," Doctor Peck says.
"Don't thank me yet," you say. "I'm sure you understand why I might want to keep her at arm's length."
"I do, and there's absolutely no pressure for you to follow through on what I'm about to propose."
You sigh. Welp, time to get weird. "You're referring to her idea that I somehow fatten her up so she can experience guilt or something?"
"Yes. I realize it's a bit of a stretch, but I have to admit, I've considered it. It would certainly help with some of her issues."
You shake your head.
"All due respect, you must be joking," you say.
"Hear me out," the image on your phone says. "I'm not about to suggest you browbeat Amber into a junk food diet nor should you come down to Old Ridge to force-feed her."
You shake your head. "I really don't want to do either of those things. Honestly you're starting to lose me. What is your idea? Lay it on me."
Doctor Peck chuckles, "Sorry, I can see you don't really like a buried lede. We had a lot of back and forth about this topic, and the proposed role for you – and Rya! - is this: you give Amber periodic suggestions on what to eat. It can be something as simple as a text every few days."
"Me? Suggest what she eats? Why would I do that?"
The doctor inhales and explains, "Amber has signs of disordered eating. She borders on orthorexic, being terrified of eating quote unhealthy foods. We've been working on re-framing these foods as treats, as something that can be enjoyed, if once in a while. She also felt extremely strongly for a while that she deserves to give up her autonomy and independence."
You raise an eyebrow, "Go on."
"She expressed having powerful self-flagellating fantasies about submitting utterly to another person, and letting them feed her until she was obese to the point of helplessness. Obviously that's not a healthy response to the guilt she feels."
You try to keep a straight face as Amber's dark fantasy hits close to home. "It's the idea of having someone else control what she eats, when she eats, if she eats, how much she eats."
The doctor bites his lip and pauses for a beat before continuing, "I... Know this is probably a difficult conversation, given the history you have with Amber. You know she detailed to me her time with you."
You nod, your silence speaking volumes.
"Which is why I agreed to try folding you into her treatment plan as a collateral. I completely understand if this is a bridge too far for you – you have every right to want to maintain distance."
"Collateral? What do you mean?"
Doctor Peck explains, "It's a technical term for a third party in a therapy program. Either way, take all the time you need to consider this offer. I don't want you to feel obligated in any way to contribute."
"You're asking me to become a part of her mental therapy?"
The doctor clarifies, "I'm not asking you to join in on her treatment per se, I'm simply explaining what your role would be should you choose to contribute, even at a minor level."
"Well," you say, "It's still wild to hear this idea from reputable lips. Let us think about it?"
"Of course," Doctor Peck says. "And I don't want this to come across as an attempt at persuasion, but I will disclose why I'm considering Amber's odd therapy request."
He explains, "Quite simply, I think this is a way to treat multiple issues at once. You giving Ms. Castillo some gentle eating encouragement can help her normalize her dietary behaviors, while also giving her a very light taste of submission to authority. Though I think this therapy would work with any number of people serving as a third party, I believe it will be particularly potent if you were to fill the role."
You sigh. "I'm still going to have to think about it."
"Of course, take all the time you need."
You turn towards Rya and squeeze her chunky thigh. She sets her hand on top of yours as a gesture of support. You turn back to the phone, "We should reach a decision fairly soon. We'll be in touch."
"Thank you for your time," the doctor says, "And for your consideration."
You end the call. You look at Rya and she locks eyes with you.
Over an hour or so and with formidable servings of sweets for the brainpower, you and Rya hash out your feelings on the proposed treatment, and how you'd engage with it. The surreality of considering the proposal is slowly fading but is still very much present and palpable. The two of you do quickly agree on following through, though you devise your own terms and rules to add to the agreement.
With the matter at hand settled, the two of you putter around for the rest of the evening. You try to thumb through the case files that Dr. Peck sent to you, but you honestly aren't getting much out of any report, and you can feel an odd familiar creeping tingle at the back of your head that threatens to dig out some old bad memories.
You settle for some lighter reading: a thick book that's especially focused on a particular campaign of medieval wars in England. Paired with an equally thick slice of cake, it's just the thing to clear your mind of the day's chaotic thoughts and get you ready for bed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It isn't until Thursday when you, Rya, Amber, and her therapist can all get onto a call together. Once again, it's a video call session. Dr. Peck is bald and friendly as always, and Amber is back to her put-together boss-bitch look. You and Rya have just disclosed that you'll get involved with the treatment program, and are explaining your proposed approach.
"I think it's best if we maintain some distance," you say, "No intimacy, no emotions."
"I don't think that's a bad mindset," Dr. Peck says.
"At the same time, I think it's really important that we keep each other honest," Rya contributes. "Which is why we're laying this out openly and in front of a third party."
"Right," Amber says quietly, accepting of whatever conditions you might impose. "And I understand that I bear the onus for stricter verification, given my history of dishonesty."
"While I'm very glad to see your progress, Amber, I still think it's a good idea for Anon and Rya to go ahead and provide you with the devices like we discussed," the therapist says.
Amber nods. Rya says, "I sent the modified camera and the tablet via priority earlier today. Amber will need to sign for the package, and it should arrive tomorrow."
"Excellent," Dr. Peck says. "Well, Amber, it looks like we're all set. I'd like to start the program as soon as everybody is comfortable."
A round of "yeahs" come from all the other participants, then you say, "Ok, so let's take this from the top. Amber, every day for the next month, Rya and I will send you a suggestion on some food to eat. We'll be pretty vague, and we won't say how much. You'll have a lot of discretion in how you hit the day's suggestion, and if you're unwilling or uncomfortable with following a day's suggestion, then just say so."
"Yeah, no problem," Amber says. "Part of me thinks this might even be a little fun."
You continue, "And while I'm more inclined to trust her than ever, Amber will be kept honest by filming herself eating the suggested food. Rya and I sent Amber a modified camera and tablet so that she can upload the video to a neutral, mutually-monitored file sharing repository."
Rya steps in, "And because we are all adamant about ensuring this doesn't get weird, we'll all be subject to some rules. The file hosting site will log all activity and delete videos after 24 hours. None of us are to save local copies. Hence the modified camera and tablet – the firmware I loaded onto them restricts their behavior. The camera will only offload its videos specifically to the tablet, and the tablet will do nothing other than connecting to the file host."
"You all comfortable with these terms?" you ask.
"Yes!" everyone choruses.
"Alright, then we begin tomorrow," Dr. Peck says conclusively. "Anon and Rya, give Amber ideas for tasty foods to try. Amber, enjoy yourself, but be responsible. As a doctor, I can't condone deliberately gaining weight, but I can sign off on a little gourmand exploration."
"And before I let you all go," the therapist adds in a serious tone. "Never forget that each of you has veto power. Each of you is free to pull the plug at any time, for any reason."
"Got it," you say.
All of you say your good-byes, then the screen goes black.