Chapter Text
Eren found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. The drifts and drabs of clarity allowed him to take in snippets of his current surroundings, unfamiliar cobblestone walls and the more familiar smell of drying hay. He felt warm floorboards underneath his back, and sunlight shone in from a window set in the angled roof. On opening his eyes again the sunlight had faded, replaced with an inky black sky. A lantern now hung from a hook set in the ceiling, the flickering flame casting shadows around the small room. Eren blinked away the remnants of fatigue, and forced himself to sit up. His arms were shaky and weak, and they trembled under his weight. He rubbed a fisted hand over his eyes, and not for the first time, wondered just where he was.
“... 'lo?” Eren's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat with a sharp and painful cough, “Hello? Anyone there?” Silence greeted him, and he forced himself up onto his feet. He swayed slightly, and held his hand against the sloped wall to steady himself. Given the shape and structure of the room, he was in an attic of sorts. The oddly comfortable silence suggested that he had been moved out of the city, and into the countryside. Eren moved over to the window, and stood up on his tip toes to push it open. Cool air drifted in through the narrow gap, and he could hear the gentle braying of cows in the distance.
“How did I end up out here?” Eren rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, “Where's Armin... Mikasa?” His legs felt heavy as he walked the length of the attic room, dazed eyes looking for a way out. Whatever he had been drugged with was still lingering in his system, he reasoned. He crouched on finding a trap door at the far end of the room, but a tug of it's iron ring revealed that it was locked on the other side. Eren gritted his teeth as he pulled harder on the ring. The trap door didn't budge. Eren heaved a frustrated sigh between his teeth, and paced back and forth along the room, searching for anything that could help him.
Wisps of hay were scattered across the floorboards. A couple of heavy sacks were folded neatly in one corner, along with an unmarked crate. Eren's eyes drifted back towards the lantern. He was positive that the lantern hadn't been there when he had first opened his eyes. Someone had come in with it while he had been unconscious, and it stood to reason that said person would come back. Eren slumped back down onto the floorboards, pulling one of the folded up sacks to rest underneath his head. All he had to do was wait for the person, no, his captor, to return. If he was lucky, he could get the jump on them, and escape down the hatch.
Eren grinned to himself as he waited. And waited. The candle in the lantern melted, the flame becoming lower and dimmer. The night sky outside lightened to a navy blue, then to a deep violet. Pink clouds formed across the horizon as the sun began to slowly rise, golden streams of light streaming in through the glass. Eren shifted his weight carefully, his eyes never leaving the trap door. Every muscle was tensed, his body poised for attack. He had the element of surprise in his side, Eren could only hope that his captor was going to assume that he was still asleep.
Finally, when the sky outside had blossomed into an endless blue, there was a creak from below. Eren curled one hand into a fist, his other flat against the floor. The trap door shuddered as the lock was removed from the other side, and it began to open. Eren pushed himself up onto the balls of his feet, ready to rush his captor. But then that head of dark hair came into view, along with painfully familiar dark eyes, and he found himself stumbling mid-attack. He fell to his knees in surprise, his eyes wide as Mikasa climbed her way elegantly into the room.
“Mikasa?” Eren gaped at his sister, his mind unable to comprehend just what he was seeing, “What are you doing here... what am I doing here....? Are you,” hope flared briefly in his chest, a grin spreading across his face, “You're here to take me back, right? You're here to rescue me.” Warmth and guilt curdled in the pit of his stomach, how often had he chided Mikasa for being overprotective? Yet here she was to save him, to take him back to the city. His hope started to fade as Mikasa slowly shook her head, strands of dark hair brushing against her pale cheeks.
“No. We're staying here,” Mikasa explained calmly, setting down a bucket on top of the now closed trap door, “It's safer here. I can protect you here. Remember what I said?” her dark eyes found Eren's terrified ones, “We don't have to fight. We don't have to risk our lives. We can just farm, like we used to. Just you and me.” Eren stared at her, anger bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.
“Mikasa, we've gone over this!” Eren exploded angrily, rising to his feet, “I don't want to do that! I want to fight, I want to stop the Titans! You can't just make me do what you want to do!” he stalked towards his sister, his hands clenched into fists, “I'm going back to the city. I'm going to continue my training, I'm going to join the Survey Corps, and there's nothing-” he was cut off as Mikasa drove her fist into his stomach, sending him flying across the length of the room. He landed painfully on the floorboards, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of him.
“I am going to protect you,” Mikasa continued softly as she crawled towards Eren's sprawled form, scraping the bucket along the floor with her, “This is the only way I know how. Eren, I promised to protect you, no matter what. This,” her gaze softened slightly, “This is the only way I know how.” She pinned Eren's smaller form underneath her own, her knees either side of Eren's waist, capturing his arms against his sides. Eren attempted to buck up against her, to throw her off. Mikasa didn't even seem to acknowledge his struggling. She calmly produced a metal funnel from inside her jacket, and forced the narrow end past Eren's protesting lips.
Eren fought, trying to spit it back out, but Mikasa was strong, much stronger than he was. He watched with wide eyes as Mikasa picked up the bucket with a small grunt of effort. She tilted it slowly towards Eren, and he could see that it was filled with frothy milk. Mikasa carefully placed the rim of the bucket against the edge of the funnel, and then tilted the bucket to pour the warm liquid down into Eren's unwilling mouth.
At first he tried to fight against the flow of liquid. But then Mikasa had balanced the base of the bucket against her shoulder with an unfair ease, her free hand moving to stroke the soft hollow of Eren's throat. Eren snarled as his body betrayed him by swallowing a large mouthful of warm, creamy milk. He kicked and struggled, but Mikasa wasn't effected in the slightest. She continued to pour the milk, continued to coax Eren's throat into swallowing against his own free will, and Eren's exhausted body eventually succumbed to her. He felt the milk flowing down his throat and into his stomach, and he could only watch helplessly as Mikasa poured more and more milk into him.
Eren quickly felt full. The creamy milk was rich and filling, and his stomach was still recovering from having barely eaten anything over the past couple of years. Pressure built in his lower stomach, and Eren felt a jolt of shock on seeing it start to bloat out. Slowly, but surely, his once concave stomach pushed out into the softest of curves. He felt as if he were going to burst with each mouthful of milk he was being forced to swallow, he made muffled noises of protest around the funnel, but Mikasa's expression remained as impassive as ever.
Eren couldn't fight the relief that flooded through him as the bucket was finally emptied. Mikasa set it down with a thud next to him, and pulled the funnel out of Eren's mouth. Eren gasped, wincing at the pain that shot across his slightly distended stomach. It had bloated up a good inch, pushing against the thin material of his shirt. Mikasa shuffled backwards, and Eren quickly made an attempt to sit up. He whimpered at the pain, and fell back against the floorboards with a thud. His stomach was so round and taut, and was so full of milk that he almost felt pinned down by it's weight.
“Why?” Eren gasped as Mikasa deposited the funnel into the now empty bucket, “Mikasa.. what... why...?”
“It's simple, Eren,” Mikasa reached out to press a slender finger against the slight curve of Eren's stomach, “I can't stop you trying to joining the Survey Corps. But I can make it so that they won't accept you.” Her lips curled into the faintest of smiles as her finger traced over the side of Eren's bloated belly. Eren felt a cold shudder soak his spine, and he scrambled away from that touch, ignoring the bolts of pain that shot through him.
“You're... you're insane!” Eren spat, “Mikasa, please! Stop this! You can't do this!” Each terrified breath caused his stomach to rise up and down, he could practically feel Mikasa watching it's every move. He felt sick as Mikasa effortlessly closed the distance between them. She straddled his legs, her hand lowering to rest on top of his swollen stomach. Eren was about to protest when Mikasa started to massage the taut skin, rolling the flat of her palm in slow circles against Eren's side.
It felt amazing. Eren gasped, the pain already starting to fade underneath Mikasa's surprisingly gentle touch. A groan floated from between his lips as his head lolled backwards, his eyes sinking closed. Mikasa pushed down firmly on Eren's stomach, he felt something gurgle from deep within himself. He belched unexpectedly, a sheepish grin pulling at his lips before he remembered the situation he was in. He scowled, and folded his arms across his chest.
“That's better,” Mikasa soothed, stroking her fingertips over the swell of Eren's stomach, “There's more room now. But don't worry. You'll be able to hold a lot more soon,” she exhaled softly, running her hands down Eren's sensitive sides, “Very soon.” Eren squirmed underneath her touch, an embarrassed blush staining his tanned cheeks. He tried to suck his stomach in out of her reach, but the stubborn rise of flesh refused to move.
“Mikasa, you can't keep me here,” Eren tried to keep his voice level, “You can't make me f-fat just to stop me from joining the Survey Corps. You can stuff me all you want! I'll just lose the weight until they will accept me!” he met those dark eyes with blazing teal ones, “This is my dream, Mikasa. My life's purpose! You can't take that away from me!”
Mikasa was silent for a long moment. Eren watched her face for even the smallest hint of emotion. Mikasa, he realised unhappily, had the upper hand. She was stronger than him, smarter than him, and was always one step ahead. Even now she didn't seem to be worried by Eren's outburst. Eren flinched as she eventually moved away from him, back onto her knees. He struggled to sit up, pain shooting across his stomach.
“I was willing to compromise, Eren,” Mikasa rose to her feet, the bucket dangling from her hand, “I was willing to make this easier for you. But you had to be stubborn,” her fingers curled tightly about the bucket handle, her knuckles turning white, “We could have made it work. I could have catered to your every whim. But no,” anger flashed in her eyes, “I am going to do whatever it takes to protect you. No matter what.” The heels of her boots clipped across the floorboards, and she threw open the trap door with a loud bang.
Eren scrambled onto his hands and knees to try and follow her, but she was too quick for her bloated, milk filled brother. Eren winced as the door slammed shut, a series of clicks and thuds on the other side told him that Mikasa had locked it once again. Of course, Eren sighed as he slumped back onto the stretch of floorboards he had first woken up on, Mikasa was far too calculated to make a stupid mistake like forgetting to lock the door. He rested his head down against the folded up sack, and pulled the other one over himself.
If his protruding stomach was out of sight, it was out of mind. Eren sighed, his gaze up on the sloped ceiling. Mikasa had lost it, he decided. She had been looking more and more stressed ever since military training had started. She had been asking him time and time again to forget about joining the Survey Corps. She had been quieter lately, Eren realised with a jolt that she must have started to plan all of... this. Just how prepared was she?
“Someone's gotta realise I'm missing,” Eren sighed, “Armin, Annie, Connie... I'll take that bastard Jean at this rate.” He felt a pang of loneliness in the pit of his bloated stomach. He had trusted Mikasa with his life, they had been near inseparable ever since she had joined his family. Her betrayal hurt. Even worse was the fact that Eren was certain Mikasa felt as if she was doing nothing wrong, that she was only doing what she thought was best. It was typical Mikasa, when it came down to it.
Eren closed his eyes. Mikasa couldn't possibly make him fat. Even someone as brilliant as his sister couldn't force a change like that on someone.
By the time evening fell, Eren's stomach had deflated for the most part. There was still a definite softness clinging to his abs, but both the pain and the uncomfortably full sensation had left him. Eren pulled the crate from the corner of the loft to just underneath the window, and climbed on top of it. The window was far too small for him to climb through, he noted bitterly to himself, but he was hoping to see if he could recognise his surroundings. Pressing his nose against the cold glass, Eren stared out into the growing darkness. He could make out a farmyard below him, along with a few low buildings that looked as if they had once housed animals. A dusty road trailed away from the farmyard and into the distance, disappearing between fields and rolling hills. If Eren squinted, he could see cows silhouetted against the sky.
“Mikasa really did drag me out to a farm,” Eren murmured, his breath fogging the glass, “I can't even see the walls from here. How did she get me out here?” He was aware that he had been drugged to some extent, but Mikasa must have travelled miles with him while he was unconscious. A shiver soaked his spine. Mikasa had truly gone to a lot of effort to get him somewhere secluded. Mikasa was infamous for getting her own way, no matter what lengths she had to go to. Just what did she have planned in order to get Eren too fat to enter the Survey Corps?
A thud against the trapdoor caught Eren's attention. He scrambled down from the crate as Mikasa pulled herself up into the attic, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Eren watched curiously as she set it down to the side in order to pull her lower body up into the room. She closed the hatch behind her, dark eyes sweeping across the loft until they settled on Eren. He felt a lurch in his stomach as she lowered her gaze to look at his midsection, and instinctively wrapped his arms protectively about himself.
“I'm not going to make this easy,” Eren warned her, squaring his shoulders up as he faced Mikasa, “You might as well just let me go. You're not going to fatten me up like... like some pig!” He flinched as Mikasa stepped closer to him, he took a step back in response. “I mean it, Mikasa,” he added quietly, forcing himself to meet that intense stare, “This isn't going to happen.”
Mikasa's only response was to close the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Eren gasped as he found himself nose to nose with his sister, his eyes widening in surprise. He yelped on feeling a stab of pain in his upper arm, he wrenched his gaze away from Mikasa's and stared in horror at the syringe sticking through the sleeve of his shirt. He parted his lips to speak, but words failed him. He forced himself away from Mikasa, trembling as he wrapped his fingers around the empty body of the syringe. He forced the needle out of his arm, and threw it onto the floorboards with a clatter.
“What..?” Eren slurred, his lips suddenly felt as if they were made of rubber, “What did... what was...?” he fell painfully to his knees, his muscles becoming slack as the cocktail of drugs coursed through his veins, “'kasa,” he gasped through almost paralysed vocal chords, her slender form blurring and duplicating before his eyes, “'Kasa please...” Eren slouched sideways, and hit the floor with a bone rattling thud. He could only watch helplessly as Mikasa walked over the floorboards towards him. She knelt down in front of him, placing two slender fingers against the side of his throat. Eren blinked, a low gurgle leaving his throat as he tried to voice his protest.
“I'm sorry it had to be this way,” Mikasa slipped her arms underneath Eren's armpits, dragging him across the hay scattered floorboards, “This is for your own good, Eren.” She propped Eren's prone body up against the wall, supporting him with her shoulder as she unwound the red scarf draped around her throat. His red scarf, Eren noticed; Mikasa had barely taken it off ever since he had given it to her. Mikasa looped the length of the scarf over a low hanging beam, and carefully tied the ends about Eren's wrists. He felt like a disused puppet, held up only by the red string of fate that tied him and Mikasa together.
Eren watched helplessly as Mikasa lowered herself back through the hatch, returning with a bowl of gently steaming porridge, Mikasa knelt in front of him, and dipped a ladle down into the creamy mixture. She then raised it up to Eren's slightly parted lips. Eren gagged on the thick substance, but Mikasa's hand on his throat coaxed him into swallowing once again. Eren glared at his sister with all the intensity he could muster, unwillingly swallowing mouthful after mouthful of the heavy porridge. It settled in the pit of his stomach, filling him far more quickly than the milk had done.
Eren felt his stomach stretch to accommodate the filling porridge. He lowered his gaze, letting out a distressed groan between mouthfuls on seeing the swell of his belly. It was bloating out more quickly than before, and it looked to Eren as if it was slightly bigger than before. He swallowed another mouthful and felt uncomfortably full. But Mikasa ignored his quiet moans and guttural pleas, and calmly loaded up another ladle dripping with porridge. Eren whined low in his throat, coughing as he swallowed around another mouthful. His poor distended stomach felt as if it were packed solid, it felt heavy.
“'kasa,” Eren pleaded as Mikasa started to scrape the bottom of the bowl for one last ladle-full, “Can't... full.” He was breathing heavily, his rounded stomach rising and falling with each ragged breath. He had never seen his stomach balloon out quite so much before, it was pushing against the front of his shirt, causing the fabric to ripple as it struggled to hold back his bloated belly. Mikasa reached out to push down hard on the top of Eren's stomach. Eren felt that all too familiar rumble deep inside of him and he belched again, wincing at the pain that radiated across his side.
“Room for more,” Mikasa informed him sternly as she lifted the ladle back to his porridge flecked lips, “You need this, Eren.” Eren felt tears leak out of the corners of his eyes as he was forced to swallow once more. His stomach was nothing more than a taut ball of pain, stretching out in front of him as if someone had pushed a football underneath his shirt. He tried and failed to bite back a sob as Mikasa untied his wrists and lowered him onto his back, his stomach sticking out grotesquely from his lithe form. He felt Mikasa's hands on him again, slender fingers working over the taut skin. He stubbornly ignored the small sparks of pleasure that traced down his spine, and only allowed himself a frustrated sob once Mikasa had left the attic.
He couldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him break so easily.