chapter 6

Catherine could not help notice the effect of four nights of parties had on ian's body. She did not need the scales to tell her that he had put on a few pounds. It had only been one week, but already his clothing looked a little more snug on him.
He had complained about his hangover headaches, but she did not hear him complain about anything else. She had offered him a cooked breakfasts before, but he had grumbled about the fatty calories sitting heavy inside him. This time he appeared to enjoy every little morsel.
She gave a secret little smile to herself. She always thought Ian was a bit too much on the skinny side. If he had put a few pounds on after four days of Christmas parties, what would he be like after another seven? What would he be like after Christmas and new year was over?
She resigned herself to take advantage of the situation. She had to make sure he ate even more when he was least able to resist. By the time the new year came in, she wanted to see him a stone heavier than he had been last week. The thought of him not realising how fat he was getting turned her on. She wanted to see how tight his clothing would get as he developed a little paunch.
She wondered how far she could push him. How greedy could she make him? Could she make him continue to overeat and gain weight after the new year? ...without his knowledge?
It would take some discreet planning.
The rest of the weekend was party free for him. She had to make sure he relaxed and didn't try to work off the excess calories.
She gave him an extra sandwich at lunchtime, then went out shopping to stock up on foods that she rarely kept. High calorie, high fat foods that she could sneak into his diet instead of the usual low fat, low sugar varieties.

That afternoon when she returned from the supermarket, she smiled as he saw him waking from a nap on the sofa. Would he like a coffee?
He groaned in the affirmative. A few minutes later, she brought him his drink. Usually he drank it with semi skimmed milk and no sugar. From now on he was going to drink it with whole milk and half a sugar. She gave him a small plate of chocolate biscuits to go with it. She said that someone at work had given her a whole box for Christmas so they all had to be eaten.
He took a sip of the coffee. He winced because it was sweeter than he was used to. She made an excuse. She said that she had made it just as she normally would, but he had been eating so much rubbish recently that it only tasted sweet.
After a few mouthfuls, he accepted her reasoning and finished the cup, plus two of the biscuits. She wanted him to finish them all. She'd counted them. There were ten on the plate when she put them out. Two was simply not enough. She left them on the table. Maybe he'd have more later, when he thought she was not watching.
Indeed he did! It was only two more, but it was more! It was a start. She had to start somewhere.
She wanted to steer away from the meat and two veg meals for that evening. He was going to get those the rest of the week. She also wanted to hide the richness of the meals she was going to start to give him. She told him she was mindful of the number of calories he would be consuming the rest of the week, so she had made him a delicious low fat lasagne made with low fat cheese and yoghurt instead of milk. It was a fib. The onions were not dry fried they were softened in butter. The mince was a standard full fat variety, not a low fat version. The sauce had cream, butter and standard fat cheese in it.
She gave him a large portion with some salad. She said he was allowed to have a larger portion because it was so much lower in calories than a standard lasagne.
He ate it all! He congratulated her on her cooking because it tasted so good!
She told him there was plenty left. She would put it by for tomorrow. In the meantime, she made him a coffee as before, encouraged him to have another biscuit.
She did all this without him having to get out of his seat. She cooked, served, cleared away and washed up.
A few hours later, she asked him if he wanted a beer. By the time he decided whether he wanted one or not, she had cracked open a can from the fridge, poured it into a glass and placed it in his hand. He could hardly refuse! She was not giving him a chance to refuse!
She gave him a whisky chaser with his next beer. She wanted him so drunk that he would agree to anything and not remember what he had done in the morning.
After three beers and two chasers, she saw his eyes glaze over. His inhibitions were gone and so were the remaining biscuits. She gave him another drink, then went to change into something she knew would get him aroused. It was a low cut, fitted dress, that showed off every curve. He said he always liked her in it, but did not like how it attracted the gaze of other men.
As she walked into the room, she saw his eyes widen. She saw him blush slightly as she leaned over him so that he could see her ample cleavage. She danced provocatively in front of him to music that was inside her head.
She saw him try to loosen his trousers to let his stiffened cock out, but she stopped him. She was not having that! He was not to touch his clothing or touch her! He could have another drink if he wanted though. Did he want a drink?
He nodded. Of course he did! Which full-blooded man would not when faced with such sensuality!
She placed his drink in his hand, leaning over once more to give him a good view. She even did a little shimmy to make her voluptuous form, before standing straight and removing the dress in one graceful beautiful move.
She got in closer to him, sat astride him, rubbed her body up against his, she put a hand on his swollen crotch over his trousers, but she refused to loosen his flies. No, he had to do something for her first! He had to eat another portion of lasagne.
Ian thought it was a strange request, but he was sure he could do it. He even felt a little hungry after all the beer inside him!
She fetched him an even bigger portion than he'd eaten at teatime, with no salad this time. He was not allowed to tough the plate or a fork. She brought with her a large tablespoon. She sat astride him as he sat on the couch and fed him spoonful after spoonful of the delicious, rich lasagne.
When the portion was finished and he'd drank his fourth beer, she fetched him another drink while she let his food settle for a few minutes and prepared an unexpected dessert for him.
Doughnuts. That's what he needed and lots of them. Should brought over a dozen of different varieties for him to try. Again she sat astride him and fed him each one.
He licked the sugar from his lips, complained he was getting too full, but she did not stop feeding him. She could not waste these delicious fried, sugary concoctions. They had been on special offer (she said) it would be a shame to waste them and the cream would go off before tomorrow because they were close to their use by date. She watched his belly swell until it was a hard round rock between them. With every doughnut eaten, she took the opportunity to give it a good rub.
Oh! He called out, that felt good!
She stood up, then sat down beside him. She ordered him to stand up. She wanted to see the result of her handiwork. The result was plain to see. He had a mound of a belly that pushed out hit shirt. His trousers were much tighter and looked very uncomfortable.
She ordered him to take his shirt out of his trousers and loosen his flies. The relief he felt as his belly was released was evident. There were great red marks around his mid-section where his trousers had been digging in.
She now rewarded him for his efforts by leading him to the bedroom and having the most amazing sex either of them had experienced together.

In the morning, she got up early, leaving Ian sleeping. She tidied up everything, got rid of all of the evidence from the night before and prepared a substantial breakfast for him when he awoke.

He emerged after having a shower. He had a very 'woolly' head. He must stop drinking so much!
He said he only wanted toast. He still felt full from all the lasagne and doughnuts he'd eaten.
Catherine questioned him. He'd eaten lasagne, but only with his dinner and he'd not eaten any doughnuts.
He said she'd worn her blue frock and danced in front of him. He said she'd forced him to eat so much that he could not move!
Catherine denied it all. She said he must have dreamed it because the last thing he'd eaten was the biscuit he'd eaten with his coffee after his dinner.
Ian was not so sure. They'd had the most amazing sex, she'd danced in front of him with barely a stitch on... she'd...
Catherine had to stop him there. If he had not dreamed it, he must have been hallucinating! Since when did she parade around in her underwear. Yes, they'd had sex, but it had not been extraordinary as he had claimed. Enjoyable, yes, but not extraordinary. If he did not drink so much, he would not have such vivid dreams and such bad hangovers.
Now, she'd gone to all the trouble of making him a cooked breakfast to make him feel better. It was about time he quit complaining, sat down and ate it before it got cold!