The mistress�s revenge

Chapter 12 - big fat pig

Stephen's world grew smaller. He very rarely went out. He had no need to. He had two women running around after him, providing him with everything he needed.
The only exersise he got was walking around the house. Going upstairs made him breathless. His thighs brushed together when he walked now and he was developing a waddle.
He should have been miserable but he got such a turn on from overeating that he loved it.
The ginge's disgust only spurred him on to eat even more, put more weight on and disgust her even more!
Once he had gained ten stones, she'd had enough and moved out.
Aha! Now it was my turn to move in! At last! I had him all to myself!
I rented my own flat out so that I had some extra income to pay for all the food Stephen was getting through.

First thing in the morning he would cry out in pain from hunger. He could not get out of bed without being satiated. A large weight gain shake was usually adequate.
Then he would waddle across to the bathroom, have a shower and get dressed.
He had to wear clothes with a lot of stretch in them otherwise they were simply too uncomfortable. Even stretchy clothes often failed to stretch across his newly massive belly, bigger than a beach ball, even when empty. His bare belly was often on show. It was my favourite bit about him! Well, apart from his 'come-to-bed' eyes and his skilled lovemaking.
As soon as he got downstairs, he would check himself out in the mirror. Yes, he was still a big fat pig! He looked like a greedy guts and that was exactly what he was. Stomach rumblings would force him away from the mirror and look for his breakfast. If I had to go to work early, I'd leave his breakfast out for him so that he only had to heat it up in the microwave. Otherwise he got a large dinner plate filled with a grease laden full English breakfast. He would tuck in enthusiastically, smothering everything in tomato ketchup.
With a satisfied, full belly and grease stains down his front, he would waddle into the living room and turn the telly on. Bland daytime programmes were now unmissable events. He'd get himself comfortable and start snacking.
At lunchtime he'd eat a massive dinner plus a pudding, followed by more daytime telly and more snacking. His evening meal was often an extravaganza. He could get through a whole Chinese banquet for two and still have room left to consume a whole cake, with lots of cream.
He ate until he ached every day, then admired his fully expanded belly in the mirror.
I didn't need to encourage him any more. He did it all himself and he continued to gain quickly.

Two year after I had started him on his overeating programme, he was over thirty stones (420 lbs). At this weight, normal everyday activities were becoming too difficult for him. He was helped out, yet again, by a financial bail out from his parents who felt guilty for not coming home to see him these last few years.
He bought a large reclining sofa from a catalogue that I had left lying around.
Getting up and down stairs was becoming too difficult for him now and he was always one for taking the easy way out, so he didn't bother. Unfortunately that was where the only toilet was too. This fact did not faze him. He hired an agency nurse to come in once a day to wash and dress him and bought a range of incontinence products to try.
Not even trying to walk to the toilet was the ultimate in laziness.
The less he did himself the more he wanted to do even less... if that makes sense.
This was the point where I decided that I'd had enough. I did not want to nurse him when I'd been at work nursing other people all day. I left him and moved back into my flat. Finally, I was able to forget about him and get on with my life.

A year or so later, I saw him in a newspaper article. The fire brigade had to get him out of the house by taking his downstairs window out and hoisting him into a nearby bariatric ambulance. He was unable to walk anymore and he was too big to fit through the door. He could no longer get any clothes to fit and was covered in just a sheet. The article listed a long list of medical problems he had that were all weight related. He was being admitted to hospital for assessment. He qualified for bariatric surgery on the NHS and no doubt he would get it.

It was tempted to go and visit, but my life had moved on. I was happy to be single, in my own space. I had changed jobs, gained promotion and kept myself busy away from the dating scene.
Revenge for all the hurt he'd given me was oh so sweet!