chapter 29 in the interests o

Jason started his week of pub meals with fish n chips. The plate was big enough to hold a whole battered fish without hanging off the edges. There were enough chips to half the rest of the plate, the remaining space was taken up by a large portion of mushy peas. The meal was served with batter scraps, a ramekin of tartare sauce, salt and vinegar.
Jason tucked in. He did not drink alcohol during the working day. It would have been nice to have a pint of beer to wash all this down, but instead, he chose a fizzy, sweet, lime and lemon drink.
He'd had plenty when only half the plate had been eaten, but he pushed himself on. When three quarters of the meal was finished, he had to put his knife and fork down for a rest before assaulting the rest of it.
Finally he finished the meal. He felt bloatedly full. He could feel his trousers and his shirt were significantly tighter than they had been that morning.
He groaned as he stood up. He would work off some of his indulgence on the way back to his office.
His secretary made him a cup of coffee for him when he arrived back. He groaned again as he sat down and the food inside him shifted around. Almost unconsciously, he reached for a biscuit. A drink was too wet to drink without one.
The next day, in the pub, he had steak and kidney pie, with chips and gravy, served with carrots, peas, turnips and parsnips. Again he struggled to finish his meal then struggled to get through his afternoon because he felt to full. All his wanted to do was lie down and sleep it off.
On Friday, he indulged in scampi and chips. The portion was just as big, but he did not struggle quite so much. One of his clients did not turn up for their appointment that afternoon. He was glad of it, but instead of using the time to constructively look over other patients' notes, he had a nap on his psychiatrist's couch.
By the end of the next week, he could consume the whole main meal without having to stop for a rest. The week after, he promised himself to try the puddings too.
Over the weekend, Jason studied the effects of his lunchtime gluttony. He had put on four pounds. His trousers were much tighter, he had to use the next hole in his belt. His shirts were a bit tighter too. His little paunch had already started to grow. He played with it in front of the mirror in the bathroom, admiring it from every angle. He put on his clothes reluctantly, but chose loose garments that would hide his growing belly from his loving wife. He did not want her to know he was gaining weight... deliberately.
Sarah was not as blind as Jason thought she was. She had found his secret hiding place for his sweets, chocolate and biscuits. She knew where he kept his stash of crisps.
She knew she should have mentioned something then, but she'd noticed he had put on a few pounds and she liked it. She hated to feel bones and hard muscle when they made love. She had not choice now. She could not eat enough to gain weight, but she could make sure her husband could. She'd noticed him trying to hide his growing paunch. She'd seen their bank statement with transactions to restaurants and supermarkets that had never appeared before. She'd found till receipts in his pockets when she was sorting out the washing. She knew that occasionally he had to force some corporate entertainment as part if his job, but he was dining out every week day!
She wanted him to continue overeating at the weekend, but she did not want him to know that she knew. She left out a bowl of nuts on the coffee table and encouraged him to watch the sport on the telly while she went out.
She noticed the nuts were all gone by the time she got back. She topped the bowl up when he went to the toilet and gave him an extra biscuit to have with his coffee.
When it came to lunch, she spread his sandwich filling extra thickly. She gave him a little extra on his plate at dinner time as well.
The next morning she made him a 'special' breakfast to celebrate her birthday. She could not enjoy the food but she could enjoy watching Jason eat it.
He enjoyed his sausage sandwich breakfast. He enjoyed his lunch, then she brought out a birthday cake with candles. He would have to eat an extra slice to compensate for her not being able to have any. The cake was rich and choclatey with lots of buttercream that just melted on his tongue. One slice was good, but two slices had him feeling rather full.
That night in bed she jiggled his flesh for the first time. He knew she knew his secret then. He did not want her to know that he knew that she knew, but he wanted to eat everything she gave him to eat and more. He wanted to please her. He felt guilty that she could only enjoy food and eating by proxy these days. He was happy to fulfil her every foodie desire and eat for her.
Over the next few days, he really stepped things up. He started eating a main meal and a stodgy pudding at the pub every lunch time. Between patients he stuffed himself full of biscuits, cake and chocolate. At home he finished the birthday cake, got through a large packet I'd nuts every day and consumed his breakfast and dinners.
Sarah encouraged him to have a drink after nine o'clock. He didn't have to drink much, just a wee little night cap, to help him relax. Of course, one drink was never enough and was followed by another. The empty calories of the alcohol was not what she was aiming for though. She wanted him to drink enough so that he got the munchies and would devour anything he could lay his hands on for husband supper. She made sure he had a choice of sweet or savoury unhealthy meals and made sure he went to bed full and satisfied.
After a month of this kind of lifestyle, Jason was not just putting on a couple of pounds, he was piling the weight on fast. He'd had to let his belt out two more holes. His trousers were uncomfortably tight. His belly hung over the top of them, the buttons on his shirt gaped over his belly. The shirt itself was tight around the top of his arms and struggled to stay tucked in his trousers. He wore his jacket more often, now to hide how tight his shirt was, but his jacket would not close any more.
He bought a bigger size suit and shirts. He felt more comfortable in them, but every week, they too were getting tighter.
He was now consuming two breakfasts a day, one at home with his wife, which appeared to be healthy, apart from the huge spoonful of sugar he piled on his cereal. His second breakfast was at some greasy spoon cafe, on his way to work where he'd eat a full English.
Mid morning, he'd have coffee with half a dozen or more biscuits.
At lunchtime he would go to the pub. He was now able to consume a full three course meal. He felt so uncomfortably afterwards that he deliberately left a gap in his diary to recover.
When he got home, he had another dinner, of moderate proportions, but he'd relax afterwards with a few tots of scotch, then binge on whatever he could find, which could be a takeaway, several cakes or a whole carton of cream.
Sarah would lead him to bed, worship his softness, knead all his rolls. He was sure she knew what he was doing now. He was convinced that she was helping him along. Why else would there be all those lovely treats in the house, when he did not buy them?
He had to set some limits though. He did not want to be an enormous fat slob incapable of doing anything for himself. He wanted to continue working. He still wanted to be mobile. He knew he was losing control of his appetite, he quite liked that, but he didn't want to become an eating machine. He needed to slow his gaining down, now! Maybe he should restrict himself to one breakfast and cut out his starter at the pub. He could stop the drinking at night as well, that made him eat even more.
Of course his plan didn't work. He couldn't resist the crispy greasiness of fried foods or the creamy softness of sweet foods. Every day he managed to squeeze a few more delicious calories into his belly. Every extra calorie added even more fat to his growing frame.
Almost every month he was having to buy clothes a size bigger. His face had rounded out, he had a large double chin. He had developed man boobs again, this time they were bigger than some women's breasts. His shoulders were covered in a thick layer of fat, fat on his upper arms overhung his elbows. His legs were thick and flabby, his thighs rubbed together when he walked and he'd started to waddle. His bum was so big, he'd outgrown his office chair, with arms on and had to buy one with no arms. Now his fat overflowed the seat. He had so sit further forward to accommodate his growing bum. His belly rested down to his mid thighs when he was sitting. Sometimes he would sit with his legs wide apart, allowing his belly to hang between them.
He used the car more often because he got winded to easily. The car park at work was rarely full. He could often park a hundred yards in front of the front door to the building, but he was still breathless by the time he got to his office, and that was when he used the lift! He imagined that if he did take the stairs he would be gasping for breath halfway up and have to take a rest. His favourite pub was only a few streets away, but he would not contemplate walking there now.
He knew he would pretty soon be reaching his limits. He would have to at least slow down, but his greediness, just kept getting in the way.