After capturing Peter Hale, Chris decides to trial a new humane way of making sure wolves aren't a threat to anyone, overfeeding him & fattening him up until Peter is over 600 lbs and barely mobile. If only those gainer shakes didn't taste so could, maybe Chris wouldn't have put on so much sympathy weight...
You read my MIND!!!!!! I was just thinking about Chris being 'given' Peter by Gerard. Of having his own fattened pet, the wolf turned hog who is still managing to be a smug asshole even while he's got shake dribbling down his double chin and a gut wobbling in front of him with each growl.
Chris would set him free. But he needs to keep up his appearances. It helps to be in the hunter community still, hear the rumors, know what's happening. He's not about to throw it all away. Plus, if he refuses, Gerard will give Peter to someone worse.
So he was planning on keeping Peter trapped in the house, free to live and do whatever he wants but…within those 4 walls. Until he sees the fear in Peter's eyes as he goes to put wolfsbane around the house. The idea of being trapped inside again, at risk of another fire he can't escape from.
So Chris starts considering a Plan B. Keeps Peter tied comfortable in his basement while he has time to think. He probably COULD have come up with a much less insane option - but Peter has to go and open his mouth.
He's mouthy. Sarcastic and biting and snarky and neither his rapid approach to middle-age or being taken as a hostage has changed that. Can't help the "Feeling kinky, Christopher?" when Chris checks the handcuffs, and then complains about the fast food Chris has been tossing him for meals.
So, fuck it. It starts off as a one time thing. Just to get Peter to shut his damn mouth. Chris doesn't even make a shake, just grabs whatever he has in his fridge - the milk, the coffee creamer, the cans of soda, the bottles of beer. Stands behind Peter, tilts his head back and demands him to drink.
Chris likes the results a little too much. The wolf looking up at him, neck exposed, breathing heavily, mouth slightly open. Belly bloated out, far from the flat stomach he's used to seeing, instead Peter looks several months pregnant.
But not enough of a gut to hide that Peter is hard. Chris is too.
He leaves Peter like that - beer and soda dripped down his front, and Chris goes and jerks off in the shower. Decides he needs to know what Peter would look like if they kept this up. Tested up how much a werewolf can stretch and balloon and fatten for Chris.
Wonders if he could break Peter enough so that he could have him eating on all fours. Or leave him tied up, funnel in his mouth, endlessly pumping him full for hours.
Not the method Gerard would have picked but…there's clearly some sadistic Argent traits alive and well in Chris.
So the shakes are next. Chris finally has a plan that will solve all his problems: He won't need wolfsbane if Peter can't fit out the doors, or even get off the couch without some help. Can't mouth off if he's got shakes pouring down his throat.
Peter seems a little too onboard with it. Keeps goading Chris to give him more. Insisting he can handle it. Groaning about being hungry, as if Chris can't hear his stretched, shake-bloated stomach gurgling in protest and Peter can't help the belches bubbling out of him.
Chris pours calories down Peter's throat until the wolf's gut is reaching to his knees, covered in stretchmarks as his healing adapts and stretches to accommodate all of it. Chris pokes and prods and starts to be able to tell when Peter is actually, properly at his limit when his gut is stretched tight and his finger can hardly sink in. By the next morning? Stretchmarks are gone, Peter's belly is shrunk down to his now sizeable, blubbery beer belly instead.
But it's never enough. Chris wants more. He wants Peter to start getting concerned about how obese he's getting. Realize Chris isn't just trying to break him - he's going to make Peter his personal blimp. So the shakes get bigger. New recipes, trying to pack in as many calories as he possibly can.
Chris doesn't mean to try the first shake. But it's not easy keeping Peter at the point of being so bloated, he's docile. So after pouring over a dozen shakes down his throat- Chris wants a break. Wants a damn beer, but the shake is only thing within reach, and it only takes a gulp and the realization "this is damn good" to finish the rest of it.
He thinks about it much later. When he's cursing and trying to get his jeans to fasten over a few inches of pudge around his middle that wasn't there last month.
That he's been making calorie bomb shakes to overpower a werewolf's metabolism. As a human? Chris is doomed.
(Peter loves it. When he's at his limit, belching loudly and clutching at his now 'too large to reach around' gut, feeling like one light touch or one more swallow might make him burst- he gets to watch Chris decide the best way to clean up the leftover shakes is to gulp them down himself. Buttons straining, shirt rising up to reveal his own well-rounded middle swelling with each massive swallow.)
