chapter 4

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES OF AN EXPLICIT NATURE.

Morning arrived, as it often does in London, as a thin drizzle of grey light. It osmosed anaemically through the curtains and settled on Hackman where he lay, tangled in the sheets of the cheap hotel bed. Wakefulness came to Hackman quickly, but uncoordinatedly, and he sat up rubbing his head.
"Rhonda?" he said, peering around the room to look for her. The place was a mess. Last night, every surface had been heaving with sweet treats. This morning, there were plenty of those still present, but they now shared space with countless empty donut boxes and used plates. Hackman remembered feeding Rhonda, but he had lost track of the quantity. Based on the devastation around the room, he must have underestimated the amount of edible matter disappearing between her soft, ruby-red lips.
"8 whole pounds!" a voice came from the bathroom, and Rhonda emerged, giving him her customary goofy grin. She looked indescribably pleased about something. She also looked... well, fatter.
"Excuse me?" Hackman said, a trifle blearily.
"8 pounds! That's how much more I weigh this morning than yesterday. I just got off the scales" She slapped her belly, which did appear a shade bigger. But...
"Rhonda... I'm pretty sure it's not possible to put on 8lbs in a single day..." Hackman said, doubtfully. She really did look noticeably larger.
Rhonda jumped onto the bed and kissed him. When she sat down by his side, wrapping one pillow-y arm around his waist, he saw that her stomach gobbled up a little more of her lap than it had the previous night. Her breasts also appeared a tiny bit bigger- they rested on top of the shelf of her belly so that they pushed upwards against her double chin. Even her thighs seemed to spill out a tad further...
"Okay, okay," Hackman conceded as Rhonda eyed him, "You've gained 8lbs in one night. But it shouldn't be possible."
"Who cares?" Rhonda said. "It happened, and you get to take the credit. Now, since you proved yourself so adept at feedin' me last night, why don't you stop staring at my belly and help get some breakfast into it. I haven't got to be anywhere today and there's plenty in here I haven't eaten yet."
"Are you suggesting that I spend the whole day feeding you everything in the room?"
"Why not? You already had plenty of practice last night!" With that, Rhonda settled down to lay on her back, letting her belly spread out. "I'm ravenous, honey- and you've got all day to find out just HOW ravenous..."

***
Meanwhile, across town, the man with the cold gaze of a shark drummed his fingers on the polished wooden surface of an old pub counter. He was humming quietly to himself. Those who heard him were deeply disturbed by the sound.

***
The hours passed in a syrupy haze, and Rhonda reached new plateaus of excess in each one. She gorged on gateau and expensive chocolates. Hackman straddled her swelling, overburdened gut and fed her every morsel within reach.
She continued to eat, even as he kissed her double chin, her breasts, her belly, her velvety-soft inner thighs and, finally...
Her head tilted back and her back arched (just slightly) as his tongue slipped inside her. It was odd: she wouldn't have had him pegged for an expert.

***
"Well, that was amazing," said Rhonda. She was spread-eagled and panting for breath.
"I can't believe you managed to keep eating all the way through," Hackman commented, affectionately massaging Rhonda's overstuffed midriff.
"Well, eating is actually my job," she chuckled. "You'd think I'd be pretty good at it by this point. Ugh- my stomach is startin' to hurt a bit, now, though. I may have overdone it, even by my standards."
"Would belly rubs help?" Hackman asked hopefully.
"You've got a one track mind, you know that," Rhonda wagged a finger at him. "Lucky for you, I do love belly rubs. Just do me a favour and go downstairs first- see if you can't rustle up a nice, stomach-soothing bottle of wine from the hotel bar."

***
In the lobby of the hotel, looking for the bar, Hackman was surprised to find himself accosted by the woman on the front desk.
"Pardon me- you were with Ms Apatite last night weren't you?"
"I still am- I'm just trying to find the hotel bar- or anywhere else I can buy a bottle of wine really. I don't suppose you'd know where it is, would you?"
"Er... yes: just down that corridor. Anyway, a gentleman left a note for Ms Apatite last night. Would you mind taking it up to her when you go?"
"Sure." Hackman was a little perplexed, but accepted the envelope.

***
Less than ten minutes later, Hackman was back in the hotel room, carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Rhonda was still sprawled on the bed, eating a tub of icecream.
"I thought you were so stuffed it hurt?" Hackman said, nodding to the icecream.
"I am, but it's SO good," Rhonda smiled at him. "Besides, I'm sure a little drink will help me digest."
Hackman, who wasn't entirely sure that was how alcohol worked, elected to keep his own counsel on the matter. "A note came for you- dropped off by some guy last night, apparently."
"Oh?" Rhonda sat up as Hackman fumbled the letter out his back pocket and handed it to her.
Carefully, the overfed beauty opened the envelope, an oddly troubled expression crossing her face. When she pulled out the letter itself, her face went pale and she let out an involuntary noise of inarticulate distress.
At once, Hackman was by her side. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Turning her ashen face to him, Rhonda whispered "It's from my ex."

***
WHY IS RHONDA SO AFRAID OF HER EX? WILL HACKMAN STAND BY HER AS HER PAST CATCHES UP TO HER? WILL FURTHER EROTIC WEIGHTGAIN ENSUE? FIND OUT, IN TOMRORROW'S INSTALLMENT OF 'RHONDA'.