SPOILED, part 1

i : The Penthouse

‘How do you do? Have you been waiting long?’

‘Hi, nice to meet you. In person, I mean, haha. No, not at all. No, it’s fine.’

‘Can I get you a drink? Soda? Something stronger? Or perhaps a shake?’

‘I’m okay for the moment, but thank you.’

‘Ah. Well, just let me know. Did you find your way here alright?’

‘Oh yes. Yeah, no trouble. It’s a nice little place, this. Favourite bar of yours?’

‘Something like that, yes. They also make excellent food - Waiter, I’ll have a black coffee, and the young man here will have a plate of the loaded flatbread with fries and a selection of pastries. Also, a thick chocolate shake, good chap. You can put cream on top of it too.’

‘Oh, okay, thank you. That’s... That's very kind of you.’

‘Not at all. So, good to see you in the flesh, so to speak. Very good.’

‘Yes, and likewise. You look very smart.’

‘Well, it’s always business with me, ha. I must say you’re looking well turned out yourself. That’s something I always appreciate in a lad. That shirt frames your little starter belly rather nicely.’

‘You think so? Thank you.’

‘Remind me of your current weight again. I know we chatted about it online, but I forget the details, you must forgive me.’

‘Oh, that’s fine. I’m currently at about 15 stone. Or 210 pounds I think it works out to, if you prefer that.’

‘Yes... Yes, splendid. A good start - Ah, thank you.’

‘Wow, that’s a lot of food, haha.’

‘Do tuck in.’

‘Right, yep okay. Thank you very much.’

‘Oh, it’s my pleasure.’

‘Mmm, it’s delicious. Are you having any?’

‘I ate earlier. Do go on.’

‘Do you... enjoy watching me eat?’

‘Oh yes. So long as it’s for a purpose, as we’ve discussed. I see real potential in you.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. I think you could go very far. Very far indeed.’

‘And... you’re sure you’d like to help? Like we chatted about? I mean, now that you’ve seen me in person, that is.’

‘I should think so, yes. Keep eating.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Quite alright. Oh yes, for what we have in mind, I don’t think you could do that alone. No, help is rather necessary, as I see it.’

‘It’s a very generous offer.’

‘Well, it comes with certain expectations, as we’ve discussed. For instance, how attached are you to your job? Your current residence?’

‘You - You’d want me to quit my job...?’

‘I see it as vital, if you’re to eat and gain for me at the level I need, yes.’

‘And my residence? You mean - Do you want me to move out of my flat?’

‘You’d be far better suited to somewhere I can provide for you.’

‘Gosh, that’s... a lot to think about...’

‘It was my understanding that you wanted to gain weight, that you enjoyed getting fatter.’

‘Oh no, yeah I do! I do, yes. I’m super into it. I just... didn’t think...’

‘Benjamin, allow me to to lay things out for you as plainly as possible: You’ll be provided a spacious apartment, all the food you could ever need, you’ll have a staff ready and willing to provide for you at any hour. You’ll be bought bigger clothes to accommodate your growing size. You won’t have to work, only eat. For me. You want to gain. I want you to gain. Extraordinary amounts of weight, which one simply cannot do alone. The building has a gym, should you wish to thicken up some muscle, a spa, sauna, everything you could want or need. All taken care of. All fully financed.’

‘I... don’t know what to say.’

‘’Yes’ will suffice.’

‘Haha, I mean, of course I want it. And it’s such an incredibly generous offer, thank you. I just need... I guess I’ll need to make plans, or -‘

‘Here’s the contract.’

‘Contract?’

‘Yes, all fairly standard stuff. Everything we’ve discussed online. Everything I’ve just told you. It’s all in there. You gain weight for me. I take care of the rest. All you have to do is sign it.’

‘Uh, okay... Can I think on it?’

‘Til tomorrow yes. I have to go away on business soon. Or, if you’d rather leave things there, I can look for someone else...’

‘No, no, it’s fine! It’s fine. I’ll take a look over it tonight.’

‘There’s a good chap. As soon as it’s signed, we can get started.’

‘... Thank you, uh...?’

‘Mr Wren will be fine.’

‘Thank you, Mr Wren, Sir.’

‘Very good.’

Ben was driven home, belly full and distended, stretching his best shirt (which had come out of his dwindling overdraft). Mr Wren had insisted on having one of his drivers take Ben back across London in a comfortable Bentley. Ben had never traveled in a car like this before. There was so much to think about. The offer was almost unbelievable. Could he really quit his job? Relocate? On paper it was the stuff of dreams for a fledgling gainer such as he, but could it really be his reality? There was no doubt that Mr Wren had the money. Everything about the man practically screamed wealth: His immaculate grey hair, curiously flawless skin for a man who must surely have been in his early 60s, the designer suit clearly tailored, maybe even custom made. This Bentley, for crying out loud.

Ben tried skimming over the contract whilst in transit, but found the vernacular difficult to parse. He would take a proper look when he got home.

‘Hiya.’ Ben shunted the front door closed behind him, jammed as it usually was. He dropped his keys on the side.

No response came. His housemate Maciek was either playing video games with his headphones on, or otherwise engaged. Ben shrugged his jacket and shoes off in the peeling hallway and went to make himself some instant coffee. He watched Mr Wren’s driver pull away from the estate through the grubby kitchen window while the kettle boiled.

Had the meeting been real? Or too good to be true?

Not long after, he was reviewing the contract, sipping from his hot cup, trying to mentally block out the thumping music from downstairs - the neighbour down there was a known drug dealer in the area, and a dangerous one at that; no-one dared to confront him about the constant noise.

‘Ugh.’ Ben struggled with the legalese of the document in his hands, far thicker than seemed necessary. From what he could ascertain Mr Wren had been correct; it mostly pertained to keeping Ben well stocked and well fed, providing for him, his every need, in exchange for the transformation of his body ie. fattening, rounding out, general weight gain. No end goal was printed, and something about that was very stirring. In fact, in some strange way this entire contract brought about a certain excitement; the matter-of-fact way in which it detailed something very personal and sexual to Ben - deliberate overeating with the strict intent to grow his belly heavier and larger over time. Something he’d long been keen on. And he’d very much enjoyed what little progress he’d been able to make by himself so far.

‘Ben!’ The voice of Maciek through the paper-thin walls.

Ben grumbled, kept skim-reading, and took another sip of coffee.

‘Ben, I need your help!’

For God’s sake.

‘What is it?’ Ben yelled back.

A pause, then, ‘There’s spider in the bathroom!’

For the love of - Maciek was a grown-ass man, an ex-rugby player, no less!

‘Just squish it!’ Ben rolled his eyes. ‘I believe in you!’

‘Is really big!’

There’d be no peace til this was done, would there? Ben huffed, skim-read the final page and hastily signed it, taking a picture with his phone and sending it immediately to Mr Wren.

‘Alright, I’m coming...’

When he got into the bathroom with the wobbling Pole, he couldn’t even spot this damned spider for the first 5 minutes, then finally saw a tiny black dot in the corner between the cracked tiles.

‘Dude, it’s like the size of a pin,’ he sighed to his housemate. ‘Not even that.’

‘Could be black widow,’ Maciek worried back.

‘Alright...’ Ben reached up with a scrunch of toilet paper. ‘Sorry, Spidey.’

‘Hurry. I can’t do poo whilst is in here,’ Maciek added helpfully.

Afterwards, Ben slumped onto his bed and checked his phone. Mr Wren had texted back.

"Oh, wonderful. I shall get things underway immediately."

And for the rest of the evening, Ben daydreamed of what this could all mean for him. How lifechanging it could really be. He wondered when he would be expected to hand in his notice at the office. He wondered a lot of things. How was this whole situation going to play out? Would it slowly ramp up over time? He should have asked for more details, but had been too excited to think of any earlier.

Eventually, his eyes dropped off into a sleep, and he dreamed of eating and growing... and ballooning...

* * * *

Detective Arthur Sweet slumped over the table of the greasy spoon cafe, plowing into his bacon sandwich between thick slurps of coffee, letting his fat forefinger trace the spread of documents before him; a statement taken recently by one of the nightshift constables and swiftly dismissed. Sweet was considering ordering a second bacon sandwich, the better to satiate his rather expansive belly as it pressed into the formica tabletop, straining his old button-up. He brushed breadcrumbs from his moustache and hailed the bored waitress.

Another sandwich and more coffee were indeed in order.

The statement lain before him was that of a young chap from Chadwell Heath who had claimed that his housemate - one Benjamin Townsend - quitting his job and moving out without warning warranted some sort of police suspicion. Obviously the folks at New Scotland Yard had snickered, taken the statement and immediately filed it away, never to be seen again. They were, after all, more used to busting drug rings and taking down London’s criminal underworld.

But this lad’s statement, it poked at Detective Sweet’s policing instincts. There was more to this, he reckoned.

‘They told me I’d find you here.’ A voice came from the end of the table.

‘Piss off, you’re blocking my light,’ Sweet grumbled, shifting the documents out of the slender shadow now cast upon the formica. Looking up, he saw that it belonged to a younger man, perhaps in his early or mid 20’s, with stylish hair and perfect teeth.

‘Manni Dey,’ the lean, chiselled man said, holding out a hand. His nails didn’t appear chewed and stubby the way Sweet’s were.

‘And?’ the detective asked. ‘You’re still blocking my light, son.’ He didn’t shake the proffered hand.

‘And I’m your new partner,’ Manni replied.

‘Jesus.’ Sweet looked him up and down. ‘Is this what they’re passing through the academy these days? You look about twelve.’

Manni slipped into the seat opposite Detective Sweet, much to the latter’s chagrin, and said,

‘Yeah, they told me you’d be like this.’

‘I’m on lunch, piss off.’

Manni sighed and rolled his eyes.

‘Maybe you were under the illusion that I wanted to get paired with a condescending, cranky old shit like you. Shockingly, I didn’t.’

The waitress returned, plonking both sandwich and coffee onto the sheets of paper, instantly ringing them.

‘Oi, watch it!’ Sweet moaned.

‘Can I get a tea - milk, three sugars - as well, please?’ Manni asked her.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Sweet muttered, wiping the brown stain from the printed documents.

‘What is that, anyway?’ Manni asked.

‘It’s nothing.’

‘That’s the statement from the other night, from that lad. Where was he from, was it Chadwell Heath?’

‘I said it’s nothing. Nothing that concerns you, anyway. Take your tea and sling your hook.’

‘I thought it was a bit of a weird coincidence too.’

Sweet looked up at the ridiculously fresh-faced younger man, and swigged his coffee.

‘Meaning?’

‘The bloke who gave that statement, he thinks it’s odd his housemate just packed his bags and suddenly left everything behind, right? That’s the crux of the statement. It’s not the first time this has come up recently. Maybe not enough to be a pattern, but...’

‘But just enough to be more than a coincidence, maybe.’ Sweet adjusted his glasses and chomped into his second sandwich. ‘Alright, sunshine, you’ve done a bit of homework, have you? That’s nice. Now you can leave it to the adults.’

‘Yeah, I'm actually 38 -‘

‘Really? Fuckin ‘ell-‘

‘So don’t fucking patronise me, mate. I’m your partner, not your student.’

Sweet stuffed more bread and bacon into his mouth, heaved a sigh that expanded and contracted the button-up stretched across his rotund chest and gut, and tapped on the papers. ‘Go on, then, hotshot. Thoughts and theories.’

Manni pulled the documents towards him and studied for a moment. His tea arrived and he thanked the waitress who displayed visible confusion at being shown politeness.

‘I think kidnapping or abduction are out, or at best unlikely. This bloke’s housemate...’ He turned the papers and read, ‘... Benjamin quit his job and packed his bags. All voluntary.’

‘Agreed.’

‘And I’m disinclined to think force was used, though I wouldn’t rule it out completely. There’s no evidence or mention of a suspicious third party in this statement.’

‘Which leaves...?’

‘This case - well, not a case as such, but this circumstance, if you wanna call it that, it’s very similar to another one from Elephant and Castle a couple of months back. Same thing; just upped sticks and left, quit the job and everything. There’ve been a few other cases before that, too.’ Manni took a sip of sweet tea. ‘If I had to make an educated guess, I’d lean towards coercion.’

Sweet polished off the remainder of his sandwich, lifted his coffee with the other fat hand. ‘A half-decent working theory,’ he conceded. ‘Not a million miles from my own.’

‘Which is?’

Sweet swigged and placed the coffee back down.

‘They were lured.’