chapter 3

Hackman followed Rhonda through the chilly London streets. She'd responded to his suggestion that he buy her dinner at the diner by instantly one-upping it. Consequently they were going back to her hotel room to get a) a whole lot of dinner courtesy of room service and b) naked.
"This is all rather sudden," Hackman remarked. "Not that I'm complaining- I just want to make absolutely certain that this isn't some kind of terrible misunderstanding."
Rhonda grinned. "You're cute, you know that?"
"Cute?" Hackman wasn't sure if he felt affronted or not.
"Yeah- you're so polite and English. It's sweet. Now come on," she laughed. "In case you'd forgotten, I'm only wearing a bra and pants right now and your country is cold."
"I don't think it's the country as a whole. I think London just has a chip on its shoulder about something," Hackman ventured.
"Either way, I need a nice warm bed, a nice hot man- that would be you- and enough hot food to feed a normal person for a week!"

Arriving at the hotel, Hackman let Rhonda lead him into a lift (she filled up a fair percentage of it), which ascended two floors. She looked over her shoulder, giving him a coquettish smile as she walked out of the lift and up to a door on the opposite side of the corridor.
"You're going to like this," she said, and swung it open.

Hackman had assumed they'd be ordering food via room service: that would not, it appeared, actually be necessary. Rhonda's hotel room was a palace of culinary treats. Every surface was overburdened with snacks. Multi-tiered cakes, dripping with icing, jostled for space on sideboards. Box upon box of cream-filled donuts were piled up on bedside tables and makeshift dining tables, forming precarious skyscrapers. Large bags of sweet popcorn, chocolate cookies and chocolate bars lay on and around the bed (where Rhonda presumably reclined to watch TV). There was even a fridge- laid on by the hotel- that was so overfilled that Rhonda had had to tie its door shut with a length of rope to get it to stay closed. As the oversized beauty swept away some of the detritus on the bed and jumped onto the sheets, Hackman poked his head round the door to the en suite bathroom, hoping to find a sink where he could splash cold water on his face and restore his grip on reality: Rhonda left him feeling out of control and strangely intoxicated. Her obsession with overeating, however, had overtaken even this room. On the little shelf behind the bathtub, where most people would keep shampoos and soaps, Rhonda had stacked boxes of chocolates to gorge on while she bathed. The glass cubicle of the shower was obviously not used for showering: it was currently being used to store a minor mountain of the same chocolate boxes. There was even a preponderance of them balanced around the sink basin. Hackman wandered back into the main room, where Rhonda lay on the bed. She smiled at him:
"There is an argument to be made," she said carefully. "That there is something deeply wrong with me."
"You, er... certainly have quite a sweet tooth," Hackman said, weakly. She had one of the boxes of donuts resting on the considerable expanse of her belly, he noticed, and had already consumed half its contents while he was taking in the room.
She ran her hands gently over her figure. "I know... it's had quite an effect on me, over the years." She jiggled her belly. "You'd think all this padding would keep me a little warmer, wouldn't you? I'm so cold after walking through London. Want to come warm me up?"
It was too much for Hackman: he gave in. He'd barely known Rhonda five minutes. Everything about her was over-the-top insane. But he wanted her. And, for whatever unhinged reason, he thought, she wanted him, too. He leapt onto her and pulled the sheets over them in one fluid movement.

"Feed me another piece of cake, honey- they're so more-ish!"
Hackman brought up yet another slice of rich spongecake and watched it disappear into Rhonda's mouth. They were still under the sheets, though Hackman had been up (temporarily) many times to fetch Rhonda more snacks. The extent and breadth of her appetite was astounding: she'd been eating like this for two hours.
"Getting full?" Hackman asked, pulling her tenderly against him- there seemed to be rather more of her than two hours ago, at least in regards to her midriff.
"Sweetie, I was full an hour and a half ago! I'm not eating because I'm hungry. I'm eating because I love to eat!" Rhonda rolled over with a little squeak of effort, so that she was lying on top of Hackman, pinning him to the bed while she plucked up a donut and took a huge, sumptuous bite from it. "You like all this?" she asked, letting her full weight push down on him.
"I don't think I've ever liked anything more. You're amazing."
Rhonda laughed. "You better stop feeding my ego, honey- it'll end up bigger than my belly!" she wriggled into a more comfortable position atop him. "You want to ravish me yet?" she asked frankly.
"Not until you can't eat another bite," Hackman said, managing to lean up enough to kiss her. I want this to last as long as possible.
Rhonda slid down him so that the full weight of her gut pressed on his manhood. "I think you're just trying to make me fat," she said, smirking at him.

***
Outside, in the cold, impersonally grimy London streets, a wraithlike man sauntered unhurriedly towards the hotel. When he finally reached the door, he slipped inside like a poisonous mist insinuating itself though a crack in a glass test tube.
He gave the secretary on the front desk a smile as chill as the streets he'd blown in from.
"Hi there. Do you happen to have a Rhonda Apatite staying here?"
"Er... Yes?" said the secretary, uncertainly. "Would you like me to tell her she has a visitor?"
"That won't be necessary. Just give her this when she comes down tomorrow, will you?" The troubling man placed an envelope on the desk in front of the secretary and strolled out, leaving her feeling as though she'd just survived an encounter with a shark.

***
In the hotel room, Rhonda snored gently on top of Hackman. Sadly, no ravishing had taken place yet. But there was always tomorrow, Hackman reflected philosophically. Besides, after eating as much as she had, it was hardly surprising that Rhonda's fullness got the better of her and sent her sliding into a food-addled sleep-daze. There were certainly worse things to be stuck under for the night than her belly.

***
COME BACK TOMORROW FOR THE NEXT ENTICING CHAPTER! WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER? JUST HOW MUCH HAS RHONDA EATEN? WILL HACKMAN BE PULLED FURTHER INTO HER STRANGE LIFE? WILL RAVISHING FINALLY OCCUR? FIND OUT IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF... 'RHONDA'!