chapter 3

Mickey served Stacey’s breakfast in bed, before he headed for training. It did not look too bad on it’s own. It just looked like an ordinary bowl of porridge... maybe a bit thicker than usual, but that would be the cream mixed in with the whole milk. He knew she liked her porridge, but normally, it was made with skimmed milk or water and served with a fruit compote to sweeten it. This porridge was sweetened with calorie laden golden syrup. It was twice the size of her normal bowl and she would have to eat it all before he went out.

Stacey rubbed the sleep out of her eyes to see Mickey standing over her. Maybe he had forgotten about yesterday’s agreement. Maybe she could keep her appointment with the nail technician before she met her friends for a charity lunch, that would no doubt last all afternoon.
When she saw the bowl of porridge, she knew she was wrong. Mickey had every intention of stuffing her silly!
She took one small mouthful with him watching. It was so thick and so sweet! She did not want any more. It was too rich. It could do with being watered down considerably. Nevertheless, with Mickey watching, she took another mouthful. Luckily he’d also brought her a cup of tea to wash it down with. She usually did not take any sugar in her tea - just a dash of milk and very strong was how she liked it. This tea was strong, but it had far too much milk in it and was laden with sugar. Still, it helped to wash the porridge down.
After half the bowl, she could feel the swollen oats lying heavy in her belly. She’d had enough, but Mickey reminded her she had to eat it all or she would not consume enough calories in the day.
So she pushed on, far beyond being comfortable. The last quarter was a real struggle because there simply wasn’t enough room! She groaned as she put the last spoonful into her mouth. She thought her tummy was enormous! She put a hand on it her belly. It felt sore and tender. She made an excuse to go to the toilet, got up out of the bed and headed for the bathroom.
At that point, Alice, the stylist entered the room and followed her into the en-suite. “I’ve been given instructions” she said, “Mickey doesn’t want you turning bulimic on us and getting rid of all that lovely porridge, so, I’ll just sit here and wait until you’re finished your ablutions.
Stacey felt like she needed to purge her breakfast from her system. She could not make herself vomit when Alice was watching. If she could not vomit, she needed to purge from the other end. Some kind of laxative or enema would do it. Unfortunately, if her movement was restricted, she could not simply go out and get some. Nor could she order online without any access to the internet.
For the moment, she would go along with what Mickey wanted. She didn’t agree with it, but, if she complied enough, then, maybe some of her restrictions would be lifted and she would be allowed out. Then she would head straight to the chemists and buy shedloads of laxatives... maybe from different shops, so they would not be suspicious of her. By the time she was finished she would be shitting through the eye of a needle! That would get rid of all the unwanted calories!
Until then, at night, when she was alone, instead of going to sleep, she would exercise. Plenty of aerobics to shift the excess pounds she was liable to add onto her frame on a 10,000 calorie a day diet. Mickey thought he was going to make her fat, well, she was not going to give in that easily!

Alice stayed in the bathroom at a respectful distance while Stacey had a shower. She was allowed to dress however she liked today. She elected to keep her high maintenance look. Depending on when she was allowed out, she might have to file her nails down and do without a spray tan. She didn’t mind losing the eyelashes so much, but the waist length hair extensions were going to be hard to go without.

When she emerged from the dressing room, she could still feel the porridge sitting like a stone in the bottom of her stomach, yet, her next meal had already been delivered! It was a greasy fry up, a vegetarian’s worst nightmare with bacon, sausages, black pudding, fried eggs, baked beans, hash browns, fried tomatoes and fried bread, served with milky coffee and hot buttered toast.
She didn’t want to eat it, but she knew she had to. Alice left but was replaced by Petra, the maid. She was Polish, with an austere look that said she’d had a difficult early life.
Petra was there to watch her, Stacey knew that. She might go about her regular business making the bed, tidying up and dusting, but she was also watching!
Stacey sat down at the table that had been laid out for her. The last thing she wanted to do was eat. If she had to eat why did it have to be fried foods, why could it not just be a light salad? She knew the answer without having to say the words. A salad was not going to make her fat!
She picked up the tomato ketchup and squeezed it all over her plate. The fat around her egg was already starting to congeal. What would happen once she had eaten it? Would the fat cool and become a solid mass in her stomach? How would her body know how to process that?
Slowly, she picked up her knife and fork and started eating.
She ate the heavy meal delicately, hoping someone would feel sorry for her and take the plate away before she had finished it. She hid a sausage and the black pudding in her napkin. She would dispose of the, late down the toilet when no one was looking.
An hour after starting, her plate was empty. She had never been so full, but focused her mind on hiding the napkin full of food, so that her minder did not realise she had hidden it. She stuffed the napkin into the waistband of her skirt and pulled her jumper over the top of it.
Petra did not notice the napkin and did not follow her into the bathroom. Stacey breathed a sigh of relief and locked the door, before she could change her mind. She dropped the offending food down the toilet from her serviette. Then she made herself sick, the way her bulimic friends had taught her, silently. Someone standing outside and listening would think she was just eliminating in the normal fashion. When really she was puking up everything inside her.

Before leaving the bathroom, she checked her look in the mirror. Sometimes the action of vomiting while bending over the toilet bowl raised the pressure inside the head so much that it made the eyes bulge, thus giving away what had just occurred. Luckily, that not happened, but she wiped away the few tears that had seeped out of her watery eyes and rinsed out her mouth with water, before she left. The smell of acid on her breath was another give away.
Petra smiled disarmingly, before deciding to rearrange the curtains and plump up the pillows and cushions on the bed. Stacey smiled back weakly and sat down in the easy chair heavily with an ‘oof’. The heavy pressure in her belly had eased, but she still felt the weight of her earlier breakfast lower down. She still felt bloated. She groaned with the discomfort and held onto her belly. All the same, she was pleased with herself. How much more uncomfortable would she have been if she had kept that greasy fry up down?
Petra hung about finding things to do that didn’t need doing for another hour or so. She was not full of conversation because her english was not great. Stacey’s eyes grew heavy and she dozed off. Napping was not something she was prone to, but she had nothing else to do.