Chapter 1 - the move

Moving House. Again. She could have done without the hassle of once more bundling her possessions up for a stressful move. As she heaved the last of her cooking gear into the back of her old fiesta, she vowed that she would never again impulse buy kitchen equipment - three boxes splitting at the sides was all the reminder she needed.

In a first impression, yum. Her new housemate greeted her at the door
"Hey, I'm Sam, good to finally meet you"
"Megan" she smiled, shaking his extended hand, holding contact with those dreamy brown pools of chocolate, which she surmised had melted a few hearts. She gladly accepted his offer to help her move her stuff in, noticing more to appreciate about her new housemate as they worked. Sam's t-shirt silhouetted a convex abdomen and (as the less refined might concede) he had a tight arse.

"God, you must do a lot of cooking?!", he exclaimed, watching with interest as she unpacked her boxes.
"Yeah, a bit, just for my own amusement really, It won't be Michelin star" she laughed.
"Great" he enthused "If you love cooking as much as I love eating, we'll get on just grand!". He slapped his little starter belly for emphasis.

My God, if he knew what that just did to her. Megan silently swore an oath that she would not have to move from this house prematurely by breaking the first tenancy commandment "Though shalt not shag thy housemate, as it makes life extremely awkward & complicated"

..........................

She convinced herself that she was doing nothing wrong. 'He is an adult and if he wants to indulge himself it's his own choosing. It's not like I'm force feeding him or anything'. She doubled her recipe quantities as she justified her behaviour to herself. Megan had always cooked frequently,,.but now she cooked A LOT. To be fair, Sam's appetite was tremendous and even when he cooked himself, his portion sizes were generous. But the encourager side of Megan could not be suppressed and she had gradually started to increase the quantities of food she produced, even starting to dabble in the dark art of baking.

"Hell, that's a lot of food, are you on 'Come Dine With Me' tonight or something?!" Sam enquired apprehensively "You know I can't let a good dinner go to waste, I'll have to finish the whole thing today!"
"It's lasagne Sam, if we don't get this finished between now and tomorrow night it'll all go in the freezer" she reassured him.
"I wouldn't bet on that making it to the freezer, you know what a pig I am!"

There it was again, the casual remarks which Sam would occasionally pass that had the power to stop her right in her tracks. 'Control yourself Megan'.

"You're a bad influence" he teased, eyeing his refection in the kitchen window. "I'm going to have to get some new clothes sorted", he remarked, running his hands over his taut shirt.
It was true, Megan reflected. In the past few weeks, even days, Sam had noticeably and delectably started to gain weight. She learned that a recent running injury had caused him to abandon his previous hobby of running marathons, which he now declared to be a "fast sprint to a knee replacement". His appetite had certainly not decreased to account for the thousands of calories he was no longer burning each week. If anything, under Megan's influence, it had grown. Everything she cooked, he finished. Everything she baked, he devoured. The calorie intake was now starting to show and she couldn't help but enjoy it.

She did feel pangs of guilt every now and then that she had started to do things like make excess, order a pizza she knew she couldn't finish so that Sam would wolf half of her's down as well as his own. She had even invented a "Food Friday" at work, where she would inevitably bake a batch of goodies which weren't "just right". These rejects would then make there merry way to Sam's gut. But he encouraged her along the way, telling her how great her food was and how much he loved eating. He didn't even seem all that bothered about moving up a clothing size, she mused.