A writer finds a new job will change his life
15th November 2014
I pulled up to the gate and rang the doorbell. The estate was so huge that all I could see inside the gate were trees. The house was not visible at all.
Yes Sir? a polite voice from the intercom called my attention.
Oh, er hi. Its Paul Crowne, for Mr. Alastaire.
Certainly. Please drive up to the main entrance and you will be met there.
Great, thanks
The massive gates rolled back silently and I entered the grounds to my home for the next few weeks. I certainly wouldnt run out of space, that was immediately clear. I dont know exactly how big the estate was, but just imagine it took me a full minute to drive from the gate to the house... no forget that, this was a mansion.
I was a writer, or rather a journalist trying to break out into being a writer and had found what I hoped was my lucky break. I had written an article on the famous artist Henry Alastaire about a year ago and his agent had contacted me. Things took a while to iron out as the artist travelled frequently but we finally met up and agreed that I would write his biography. He wanted to have more input than Id have liked but I couldnt refuse the opportunity. His following was already so widespread that success was almost assured, and thus formed a relatively secure launching pad for my new direction as an author.
Apparently Henry felt that my article had made him appear more human, and down to earth than other writers who had focused either solely on his art, or made only a superficial attempt at understanding the man behind the art. Henry was English and had found international success quite early and now at forty years of age was a worldwide sensation, whose art commanded amongst the highest prices for a living artist. Maria, his wife of fifteen years was Spanish and devoted entirely to her husband. They were a beautiful couple, not only because they were actually good-looking, but the tender love they clearly had for one another invariably shone through.
The idea we had settled on was for me to live with them at their country estate in Cornwall for a month, during which time I would glean sufficient information as to make a first quick draft of the outlines of my book. They were then set to spend the Christmas season with her family in Spain, for around a month and then wed meet again to go through the draft and agree on how to shape it.
I had no idea how significantly the deal was to change every sphere of my life, not only financially, but also personally; specifically my figure. As I drove up that cold but sunny morning in mid-November, my waistline had already succumbed to excess food and insufficient exercise. I had reached a deal with the newspaper I worked for in order to cover all eventualities. They would support me by granting me a leave of absence, so I had my job back if the project failed. In return they got first dibs at reviewing the book and some shared promotional events.
Of more relevance to my figure was the fact that at thirty-four years old I had the time honoured office body: not really fat but untoned, unfit and ready for weight gain. On my last day at the paper I clocked in at 180 lbs on my 58 frame. I spent a month at home, reading through everything available on Henry Alastaire and memorising not only key dates and facts, but also nuggets personal to the man. I had to show him that I was worthy of the trust he placed in me. From the research point of view it was a very successful month, but all the time spent indoors saw me eating pretty much all the time. I had never worked from home, so had no discipline or routine set. I enjoyed the luxury of being able to have a real breakfast, and started off with a healthy choice of fruit, yoghurt and meusli. However as I sat on the sofa reading off my tablet I would open a bag of cookies and devour the lot before I knew it. Over time my breakfast portions became so big that I may as well have been eating pancakes.
Lunchtime was again a fun time. It was a novelty for me to have so much time to prepare food and I dug out old recipes from my mum, and found new ones online. I followed the recipes religiously, even when they clearly indicated a serving for four it never occurred to me to use a quarter of the ingredients for just me. Being new to the world of cooking, I also used the full amounts they specified, for instance a whole ounce of butter or sugar, unaware that health-conscious cooks used less than half for the same dish.
After lunch, where Id usually eat about the food I prepared, conservatively a double portion, Id curl up to read on the sofa but my overfull belly would soon lead me to doze off and sleep for a couple of hours. Upon waking I needed a coffee to kick off again, which tasted much better with a danish pastry. The afternoon research was again fueled by cookies until dinner time when Id finish off the food prepared for lunch.
Some days I got so involved in reading that I left it too late or didnt want to cook, so Id order in take away. The pizzeria I used were known for their great deals, and many times I ended up with food I hadnt ordered. One day it was a second pizza free, another time a couple of slices of apple pie. They also had a very hot delivery girl, Samantha, who looked even sexier in her motorbike leathers, her long blonde hair escaping under her helmet. One time she gave me my pizza, then rummaged in the box on her bike. Oh looks like theres an extra pie in here! she exclaimed.
While I sorted out the money to pay her she called the restaurant. After I paid her, she handed me the pie, an entire 12 lemon meringue and said No-one can figure where this should go, so its yours, on the house.
Oh wow, thats really generous of you, but Im not sure I can take it all!
Oh Im sure youll figure out what to do with it she smiled slyly then outrageously patted my belly before hopping back onto her bike, her round arse stretching her leather pants so tight that suddenly my own trousers were tight, but from the front.
As I walked to my unofficial office - the sofa - I passed by the hall mirror and paused to check myself out, not something I did very often. I had taken to wearing tracksuit trousers around the house, with a sweater on top. Today I was in a T-shirt, which I had to admit did look rather tight. My belly, previously a soft bulge had taken on a more defined form, rounder, even the slight roll of flab over the waistband, a muffintop I believe it was called seemed to be a bit bigger. I reflected on my habits over the last couple of weeks since Id been at home and realised for the first time just how much food I was putting away.
Oh well, its been fun,but Ill ease off the eating I thought. I wasnt too worried as in any case Id be moving to live with the Alastaires soon enough. After I finished the pizza, I looked at the pie and thought again of Samanthas comment and looked at my belly. It seemed even bigger than before, stuffed with pizza and bunched up as I was sitting. I really shouldnt I thought, even as I moved to the pie. Just a tiny piece I rationalised, wont make much difference tonight. So I dont know how I ended up nursing a painfully distended gut, and an empty pie box in my hand.
Thus it was that as I pulled up outside the main entrance of the mansion after a month working from home, my weight had made its way up 16 lbs to 196 and my belly protruded rather noticeably over my trousers. Sitting down, it formed a round ball on my lap and filled out my shirt completely, even though I had gone on a mad shopping spree the day before after I realised that none of my clothes fit decently any more.
To my surprise both Henry and his beautiful Spanish wife Maria were waiting to greet me, making me feel very welcome immediately. I noticed something different about them, but I had last met them a year ago so couldnt put my finger on it. Different clothes and hair make a big difference. As we entered I felt the warmth of the central heating and removed my coat. As I did so Maria patted my belly and exclaimed Oh Im so glad you have an appetite too! Youll fit right in!
I was too embarrassed to speak: until a month ago I had never thought about my stomach, now it had been pointed out by two gorgeous woman in the space of two weeks. Maria noticed my discomfiture and apologised, then patted her own soft belly. It was only then I realised what was different about them: they were both plumper than when I had last seen them. Henry had always carried a gut around; not huge by any means, but certainly a good 20 or 30 lbs over what weight charts showed as ideal. Now I was sure his belly was bigger than it used to be, but as I say, when youre using to seeing someone on TV and then meet them in the flesh there are always going to be differences.
The day passed pleasantly enough: my room, a suite in fact was larger and more comfortable than my apartment so I had no complaints there. They showed me around the mansion then a bell rang out through the house.
Maria clapped her hands in joy and squealed out finally, lunch! Lets go, Im famished. Even after so many years in England, she retained a lovely Spanish accent that together with her vivacious personality made her a lot of fun to be with. Lunch turned out to be a huge spread, making my own large lunches seem small by comparison. Once we were seated a couple of staff served us and ensured our plates and wine glasses were constantly filled. My belly soon felt full against my waistband and looking down it seemed to be inflating with every bite I took. Maria showed a great interest in me, repeatedly asking if I liked the food and encouraging me to try a bit of this, or take another serving of that. I noticed she did the same to her husband, as a result I was sure we both ate way more than we would have alone.
A good two hours later we were done feasting and all three of us moaned and rubbed our stuffed bellies. No wonder they had gained weight I thought, if they always eat like this!! Henry stood up and let out a belch.
Oh you rude pig! scolded Maria in mock horror.
Need to sleep this off he murmured drowsily, see you later.
A staff member helped me to my suite, as I couldnt find my way there alone, and I was mortified to realise that I was actually half-drunk and couldnt walk straight. To make it worse as the food in my distended belly sloshed around, a couple of burps escaped which I couldnt hold back. The extremely well trained staff pretended that he heard nothing even as I excused myself awkwardly.
Alone in my bedroom I took off my shirt and stared at my reflection. The untoned and slightly flabby belly of a month ago looked like a balloon had been attached to an air pump and left unattended. Pouring out from the unnatural confines of the trousers waistband, a surge of flab rolled around in thick lovehandles that gave way to an undeniably fat gut. Above this my hitherto flat chest had also taken its share of flab. Man boobs were on the way.
Massaging my belly softly, I said to the mirror, I hope that every meal wont be like this but as I opened my trousers before falling into bed and passing out I had time to correct myself .I do hope every meal is like this! I was awoken by a discreet knock at the door and a maid let herself in to leave a steaming pot of coffee and a plate of biscuits on a table. I mumbled my thanks as she left and made short work of the snack. I pondered on my thoughts before I slept. On one hand I was enjoying this new sensation of relishing food, but the consequences were all too plain to see in my expanding gut.
Still feeling groggy I dressed up again and ventured downstairs where I met Henry, who looked bright and chipper.
Right Paul, time to get down to work! boomed Henry.
Absolutely, I hope you havent been waiting long. I stammered. I must apologise for my behaviour at lunch, I dont normally drink wine.
Nonsense laughed Henry, we expect our guests to eat well here, and no good meal has ever lacked wine!
We outlined our plan for the next month. Henry felt most artistically productive in the mornings, so I could quietly observe him work but was not permitted to interrupt him for any reason. We would then break for lunch and after a siesta, evenings would be free for me to ask him questions and engage him in discussions.
Maria joined us and we chatted pleasantly. I soon found a discreet waiter asking what drink Id like and I opted for a gin and tonic. This was served along peanuts and the most amazing olives Id ever had. I actually stopped talking mid-sentence at that point and savoured the taste. Maria noticed and smiled. Good arent they? I get them with me from Spain.
Simply amazing I had to agree.
At one point the bell rang out again and we got up for dinner. I hope you brought an appetite, we really eat at supper smiled Maria. So lunch was a light snack? I thought with simultaneous yet contrasting feelings of illicit glee and horror.
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