chapter 13

The next morning, Marion was there when I woke with a delicious shake. She hoped I was hungry!
Of course I was! When was I not hungry?
She told me my shake was my 'pre-breakfast' meal. An appetiser for my real breakfast, which was downstairs. I would get one every morning from now on.
I drank all of it straight off. There was a whole pint of creamy chocolate flavoured bliss. I could feel it sitting heavy in my stomach as I had a shower, not knowing that it contained ingredients that had one purpose. To make me even fatter.
I did not receive my usual fry up for breakfast. Instead, I received a whole stack of American style pancakes with maple syrup, butter and ice cream. Ten pancakes there were I think. Marion was there to top up the maple syrup and butter when they started to get too dry.
I thought that was it, but then she came in. I rubbed my belly contentedly. But then Marion brought my fry up as well! Admittedly, it was not as big a portion as usual, but it ensured that I had consumed over double the daily recommended calorie intake for a healthy active man and it was still not even nine o'clock!

She allowed me to rest for a while, but she was back before opening time with an array of cream cakes and biscuits.
There was no delaying lunch, there was no change there, but I did get another rest afterwards.
But then she came with 'afternoon tea'. This was a meal known for it's dainty elegance. There was nothing dainty about my afternoon tea! I got the equivalent of a foot long sub, packed with filling, accompanied by a big bag of crisps, followed by two substantial scones, one was savoury, the other was sweet and filled with clotted cream and jam. I had more cakes to follow.

Dinner followed a few hours later. I still felt full as I tucked into the familiarity of 'the Wagon's' food.
There was another lull. I thought it was all over, but after ten, Marion came with a stack of take away pizzas. They were all for me.
I told her I could not eat another thing, but she took me upstairs, stripped naked and fed me each slice until the last of them was gone.
Every day was going to be like this from now on. She warned me. I was going to eat like a pig. I was going to be greedy and gluttonous. I needed to eat like this. I would be addicted to it. If someone told me I could not get my fix every few hours I would go into withdrawal.
I didn't mind her demands. I liked eating. I liked her. All I wanted to do was please her.

I did everything she told me to do, which was, put simply to eat as much as I could as often as I could. I stuffed myself completely at least once a day.
If I thought I had been piling the weight on before, it was nothing to how much I was gaining now.
I didn't know how much I weighed. I had not been in the scales for years. What I did know was the size 54 trousers I have bought for out first date would not pull up over my massive, dimpled bum.
I could not sit on the benches downstairs anymore, they were too small. The same was true for all the chairs downstairs. It didn't matter because I couldn't stand up long enough to use the newly installed lift anyway. It would not be long before I wouldn't even fit into the elevator cabin.

I was so big that I could not look after myself properly. If I took the effort to have a shower, there were parts of me that I could not reach. Marian looked after me. She made sure every crevice was washed and tried properly.
She had put in a large reclining chair during the refurbishment. This was where I sat not. This was where I are and it was where I took my naps. I often slept there all night simply because it took less effort than getting up and going to bed.

Eating meant everything to me. It was tasty, it was pleasurable, it was sensual, but even sex did not compare to the pleasure and pain of being stuffed to the absolute limit!
The only reason I got up out of my chair now was to go to the toilet and to have a shower, or when Marion told me to get up.
It took me a long time to get to the toilet, holding on to the walls and furniture as I walked. My legs were now a tree trunk shape, devoid of ankles. Fat bulged out on the top of my feet making it impossible to wear even old men's slippers. Each leg was extremely heavy and too considerable effort on my part to lift off the floor. As well as this, my empty belly hung down to my knees and swung one way then the other, threatening to throw me off balance with every step.
I developed a slow shuffling gait. Marion bought me one of those walking frames. She had to have it made especially wide for me. It had a little shelf on that I could haul my belly on and keep it out of the way as I shuffled my way forwards.
Sometimes after all the effort of getting there I didn't want to go anymore. I would try to hold on, but I could not hold on too long because it took me fifteen minutes just to get there.
I had multiple accidents. Marion chastised me as she had to clear up my mess, but I couldn't help it. I was just too fat to go.
I even broke the toilet seat once. It took considerable effort to stop myself tumbling to the floor as I knew than once I got all the way down there, I would not be able to get up. Marion would not be able to lift me up. I would need a crane, or the fire brigade to get me up.

Marion, as usual, had a solution.
In the morning after she had showered me, she would fit a conveen over my penis. It was a bit like a condom, but it had a tube at the end that drained into a bag that could either be tied onto my leg or drained into a bigger bag that hung on a stand by my chair. The other end rolled on over my penis. The inside of it near the top was sticky. It stuck to the skin at the base of my penis and, as long as it had been fitted properly and the seal was complete, it would keep me dry for up to twenty four hours.
I could pass urine whenever I liked now, with no fear of getting wet.
I even wore a giant adult nappy inside my underpants in case I dirtied myself, which I did, frequently. I simply could not be bothered to get up and walk the few yards to the toilet.
This was one aspect that Marion hated about me being so fat. She had to clean the mess up. She didn't mind fitting the conveen and the bag, but cleaning up shit was another thing altogether. Unfortunately I produced a lot of shit. It was one of the effects of eating so much. What went in had to come out somewhere.