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Rosy Richards Eats As Instructed


swahilimonkfish

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Someone asked me to write a WG story inspired by 'Death Note'. But I've never read or seen it, so I took the idea and made it a WG whodunnit instead.

 

Chapter 1

 

 

A hand picked up a ballpoint pen and drew it towards a notebook. The notebook looked old and tattered, but the pages were essentially bare. Past the page marked ‘Rules of the dEATh Note’ were just a couple of entries written in the same pen as the one in the hand. The hand wrote, in delicate cursive, another entry.

 

Rosy Richards – mac ‘n’ cheese

 

 

“So if we use EBITDA, we can actually identify the growth we have attained within the health food sector and I believe that, despite profit after tax being down, this suggests that the company is in better health than…

Is in better health that…

Sorry, can you excuse me for a second, I don’t feel very well”

 

 

It came over her in a heady instant. And, in an instant, Rosy walked past the other directors and straight out the door, doubled-over and clutching her stomach. A couple of them got up in concern and asked if she was alright, but she just pushed past them, grimacing and cramping. A few of the elder gentlemen just rolled their eyes and mouthed ‘women problems’ to one another, as she scurried past the clear glass panelling. Like they’d know.

But the problem Rosy was facing wasn’t like anything that she’d ever experienced before last week. It had come from nowhere. One minute she was giving her presentation on the quarterly company performance breakdown in her newly promoted position as CFO, the next it felt like an anchor had been dropped in her stomach. One minute she’d been explaining that the company growth should offset any concerns about the forthcoming end of year financial accounts, the next she was at the mercy of waves of agony. She needed to get out of the office.

Out of the door in a breathless second, she marched past the office cubicles, including her own. The office space was ostensibly ‘open-plan’ as part of their over-arching ‘departmental integration program’ but the dividers that surrounded each desk and the social stigma around hot-desking meant that they were all cocooned in their own little worlds anyway. Nobody looked up as she hurried out towards the stairs, bent over in pain. And, hunched as she was, she didn’t look up until she bumped into someone, the temp girl who sorts the post out, knocking the post out of her hands and all over the floor.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry” she apologised desperately but almost incoherently. The pain gave no indication that it had any intention of subsiding, leaving her forced into having to continue. She couldn’t stop, she had to carry on out of the building, too pained to even look up and meet the eyes of the poor girl she’d bumped into.

The girl looked around in shock and mild offence to see Rosy as she ran down the stairs in a flurry, her blue and white dress, closer to a summer dress than traditional office attire, a whirl as the slender girl made, with great haste, down to the bottom floor. The girl then bent down to pick up all of the papers and documents that had been knocked out of her hand.

Despite this, Rosy continued her charge out of the building that was holding her and her appetite hostage. Out the door she went and down to the bustling Dublin streets. It was 2pm in the afternoon and it was throbbing. It had long been a source of pride of EatWell to use offices above the streets of Dublin, despite the exorbitant rental prices. They had moved to the centre from an industry park just West of the airport, and it felt like a statement of intent at the time. But, for poor Rosy Richards and her aching, ailing stomach, it was an opportunity to access somewhere that serves food quickly. The thought of having to get in her car, navigate the traffic, find somewhere to park in this over-crowded city sounded painfully impossible to her but, as it was, she just had to run across the street to Luciano’s to appease the aching appetite that was ripping apart her innards. And to think she was one of the ones unconvinced by the move.

The smiling, happy face that greeted her at the doorway showed her to a table.

“Mac ‘n’ cheese, and please make it quick” she ordered, but sharply-tongued than her normally amiable nature would permit. But the pain. The pain was excruciating. The kind of pain that turned everything else into a blur of background noise. Enough pain to even drive the normally chirpy and chipper Rosy Richards to be curt with waiting staff at the Italian restaurant across the road.

“Thanks a million” she smiled, mustering all the courtesy that she could as the dish was served to her. A hot and steaming pile of food placed in front of her. Had her mind not been clouded by her appetite, she would have taken a photo of it. The steam pouring from the bowl, the basil sprinkled elegantly across the top, the thin tubes of pasta coated in a coagulating cheesy sauce. But her mind had been clouded by her appetite and she launched into it, regardless of the heat of the dish, regardless of it burning her tongue and that ridged bit at the top of her mouth.

A few mouthfuls later and no inroads were made to the pain. It was like pouring water into a bucket with a hole at its base. The gooey creamy texture was wasted on her, the subtleties of the basil and chive completely overlooked as she hurtled towards the base of the dish, scouring until she could see it in its entirety. And the pace didn’t relent as her fork dug into the rapidly vanishing meal.

But still the agony persisted. Like a migraine in her abdomen, just an inscrutable pain that she couldn’t pinpoint. And yet she knew, just knew, that the solution lay in the grossly Americanised dish that perhaps once had routes in Italian cuisine. She barely knew her own name at this point, the clattering clamour of disorienting pain being as sharp and twisting as it was, but she knew that she needed mac and that she needed cheese, and that she needed them to be served together.

The waiter came around with a smile of friendliness veiled over a grimace of concern at the young slender thing shovelling when all around her were eating with grace and decorum. It seemed discordant to her to see the this seemingly 5ft1 girl, with barely 110lbs to her name, daintily dressed and full of retro 50’s beauty and charm, eating like a kern. But you got all sorts while waiting tables and it wasn’t her place to judge.

“Is everything alright with your meal?” she asked, though she had an inkling that she knew the answer.

“This is delicious. Fuck, could I even have another? I don’t wanna bother ye or anything but another one of these would be grand” Rosy asked, remembering the good manners that her ma had raised her with.

“Another… mac ‘n’ cheese is that?” the waitress asked with a hint of confusion.

“If it’s no bother. I don’t want to make a fuss, it’s just… like my body’s calling out for it, you know what I’m saying?” Rosy explained as best she could what it felt like for your stomach to start eating itself in impatience.

“Sure, coming right up” she said with a glassy smile. And this wouldn’t be the first time that Rosy would have this conversation.

The directors didn’t see the CFO for the rest of the day, as she sat in that restaurant until closing time ordering and re-ordering the same meal, vainly trying to sate an unsatiable hunger for that one menu item. Each mouthful, each morsel, dulled the pain for just a few seconds, whereupon it would have to be replaced else the pain grow too much. It was a relentless, cyclical arrangement that left her leaving a £30 tip at the end of the night when the restaurant finally closed. 10% was customary after all.

 

 

*-*-*-*-*-

 

 

The next morning, Rosy got up groggily. Her stomach hurt so much from the night before still, surges of pain charging up from her bloated abdomen. The night sleep, however, had remedied the majority of the bloat. She looked at herself and didn’t see too much consequence. She looked good, and by the standard of the rest of the senior management and directors at EatWell, she looked positively sparkling. Their musty odours and stale dress senses looked like a funeral home for John Bolton impersonators, but she was a breath of fresh air. Bright dress, red tresses and an ebullient smile. She was dainty, a mere snip at 106lbs and 5ft2, and carried herself with grace and positivity everywhere she went. And her alluring charms and relentless inter-personal skills made her very popular among many, though unpopular among a few it had to be said.

A shower washed away some of the embarrassing memories of the day before. A breakfast granola bar meant that her stomach took no further hammering, gratefully received as it still felt delicate and sensitive. Her make-up was applied with rosy red lipstick to match her rosy red hair, and thick eye-liner to create depth in the way she looked. To continue her fiery colour co-ordination, she chose red and white floral dress and matching red shoes that made her look like she was going for a utopian picnic rather than another day at the office. She’d flirted with the idea of a polka dot, but she felt red today fitted her red-cheeked embarrassment. Plus, she didn’t want to cower in the corner after the day before, she was more resilient than that. She practised her smile in front of the mirror, and, upon deciding that it seemed genuine enough, went about her day.

She caught the bus to work. Parking was simply not an option to her so close to the centre of Dublin. Not five minutes North of the Liffey, she found driving to one of the bus parks and catching a ride was far simpler and less stressful. After that, it was a short walk to her place of work, a walk that allowed her to burn of some of those painful calories at least. Maybe today was going to go better than the day previous.

Or maybe not. Walking into the office, no sooner had she climbed the stairs, she bumped into the temp girl again, knocking some documents and some old journals out of her hand. It bade badly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I’ve done it again. I’m so sorry for yesterday as well, I was feeling awful. Tammy, isn’t it?” she said, kindly holding her arm in a supportive way. Rosy Richards was the least malicious person in the world, and would, literally rather than idiomatically, not hurt a fly. Poor little thing wouldn’t deserve to be swatted in her eyes.

“Yeah it is, and I’m glad you’re feeling better” Tanni said, hiding any offence that she may have felt over her name being mistaken. Again. Tanni had been at EatWell for 3 months, despite her temporary contract through an agency, and yet still people got her name wrong. And she couldn’t correct them, not now. It was too late, she was too far gone down this road. She was Tammy now to the office and it annoyed her so much. Tammy? That’s the kind of thing you name a wife of Ron Swanson!

And Rosy was the guiltiest culprit at this misnaming. Being the kind of girl that took a great deal of pride in remembering other people’s names, she saw it as a sign of her not looking down on other people, she’d gone out of her way to learn Tanni’s name immediately. And, alas, incorrectly. This meant she would use it incorrectly every time they spoke out of misplaced pride.

Tanni wasn’t especially bitter, but it did reek of the double-standard between the haves and have-nots. Tanni worked her arse off and Rosy couldn’t even be bothered to learn her name correctly. It just felt typical of the elites, with their wealth and their cars and their ability to afford a place to live in Dublin, that they couldn’t even throw her the consolatory crumb of getting her name right. Typical bosses, caring more about their bank balance than their employees.

Rosy worried that Tanni didn’t like her. Perhaps she was insecure, or a people-pleaser, or that she was vain enough to believe that she was better than everyone and thus everyone should like her, but these thoughts were common in her head. She worried about that with regards to a lot of people too. Despite her relentless charm offensive, people often found her charm offensive. A lot of the directors viewed her with contempt. There was Alabama who liked her, but not for personal reasons. The directors disliked this newcomer to the board, disrupting the status quo. Then there were the people who viewed her rise with jealousy. Then there were the people who found her piercing positivity grating in the sombre office arena. She feared that nobody liked her. She played with her arms in a moment of awkward self-loathing. And then there was Ianto.

Ianto was waiting for Rosy in her office. Smugly sprawled in her sit like he owned the joint, sitting on one chair with his legs stretched out onto the other. His contempt was rippling out from him like radiation.

“Oh, hey Ianto!” she said in her typically breezy way. But her positivity wasn’t sufficiently infectious to penetrate his frown.

“Heard about the meeting going badly, I did. Shame really” he said snarkily. They had previously been great friends, but things had been strained ever since she got the promotion that he wanted. It was this that hurt Rosy the most. Ianto being so close to her for so long, and then deciding she was the Judas to his Jesus. The Ed to his David Milliband.

“Oh, don’t be like that Ianto! I’m so sorry that they gave it to me, but it’s not my fault. Don’t take it out on me that the bosses are all just a bunch of shallow tools. You know how guilty I feel about it” she said, pleadingly. And maybe it was her fault was a thought that swam in her head.

“Look, I really needed that job. Gwyneth’s got a kid on the way and we still haven’t paid for the car. But, you’re right, it’s not your fault” he admitted, though it sounded sarcastic. He got up and walked back out of her office, barely making eye contact. “Oh, can I borrow a pen by the way?”

“Yeah sure, you can have a pen, I’ve got a whole bunch of them in this super-sized handbag of mine, ha! Here, have one of my biros” she said, with a genial smile, handing him the pen as he left her office. Hoping beyond hope that this meant that they were putting their animosity behind them. Though he sure did sound sarcastic.

She began work clearing her emails, having built up quite the backlog since her early departure the day previous. She knew she had a lot of work to do after yesterday’s aberration and got to work. The ever encroaching backlog of to-dos bubbling up to the surface. It was going to be a long day for poor Rosy Richards.

 

And somewhere, a biro penned the following message

 

Rosy Richards – Chocolate

 

A couple of hours later, Rosy was on a conference call. Part of her remit as CFO involved collaborating with the management staff of their international subsidiaries to work on a strategy that all of the members of the EatWell group could follow. The “SpeakWell” part of the EatWell company ethos, if you will. On the lines were people from Singapore, the Netherlands, Italy and Russia, all conversing in the common tongue of English with varying degrees of success. It was a weekly meeting that the CFO hosted and this was Rosy’s first attempt at the conference call. And with that came a lot of pressure.

“Nies? Nies? Are you okay with this idea at your end, Nies?” she called out.

“Yes, we are all good over here Rosy. Oh, can I just say that this has been a really good phonecall Rosy and I’m sure I speak for all the guys when I say you’re doing a fantastic job Rosy” a Ducth voice called back. And Rosy’s cheeks went as red as her name at the compliment.

“Thanks Nies. And everyone. You’ve all been so welcoming and look forward to this next week. But I’ve… I’ve gotta go so I’ll speak to you all later” and Rosy quickly hung up.

It was happening again.

Her stomach had suddenly erupted into pain. The same familiar pain that had plagued her yesterday afternoon had come over her again. She recognised every beat of the convulsing pain that permeated through her, every screech of agony that her internal organs let out, every howl of pain, every bellow of emaciation. She bolted immediately out of her office, barely remembering to get off the conference call, craving chocolate like she had never done before. Craving something like she had never craved anything before, all over again. And this time the desire was for chocolate to douse the agony within.

She raced to the work vending machine that sat between her office and the office kitchen. As with most of the EatWell office, it seemed sparkling new and expensive, but didn’t work very well. Coins would go in, a combination of numbers and letters would be pressed, and then a coin would flip to determine whether anything would actually come out. Finally, at the third donation of asking, a Twix clunked to its base.

Rapidly she unsheathed it and began sticking each finger in her mouth, not really taking the time to enjoy the thick biscuit base, the sweet and sticky caramel or the delightful thin layer of chocolate that it was all wrapped up in. It simply wasn’t chocolatey enough. Her hand rummaged in her maxi-handbag, past all the paraphernalia that it held, for more change while she munched down the second bar. It barely making a dent in dulling this ravenous klaxon coming from her.

More coins went in, more lotteries were held as to what would come out and eventually a more regular Dairy Milk came out. Just nothing but chocolate to placate the pulsing pain she was suffering. And while she broke off bits of that to eat, savouring its short-lasting balm, more money was poured in. Another Dairy Milk, and then a third, and then a fourth. And soon her purse and handbag were dry of change.

With panic, she began shaking the vending machine, trying to get some of those failed offerings to take and for the chocolate that she was due to fall for her consumption. The loud clanking of her shaking got the attention of everybody in the office briefly as it ruptured the quite hum of clacking keyboards and tired phone exchanges. The new CFO, the one who ran out so bizarrely yesterday, was attacking the vending machine like she was a vengeful Inigo Montoya and that it should prepare to die.

One of the more gentlemanly cleaners saw this as a call for help and came over. DIY Dick, as everyone knew him, was a genial and portly chap who had always liked Rosy for her friendly demeanour and, who was he kidding, her pretty looks. And, as a chatty man, he would use his conversational generosity as an excuse to chat with her quite a bit before her promotion took all of her time away from her and thus all of her company away from him

“Frettle not ye fretlocks, flower. DIY Dick’s got this. You see, if we turn this around, turn it on its side, don’t worry about the carpet rolling up flower, then you see this back-panel here? Yeah, DIY Dick will make short work of that. We all get keys you see. All the cleaning staff. I mean, I’m the only one who hasn’t all his keys… I mean, apart from the one to the storage closet but that was actually a funny story cos...”

“Oh, thanks a million, Dick” she said, as he got in through the back so as to take off the front panel. And from there she had full access to all the chocolate within its confines.

“You don’t need to thank DIY Dick. I always look after my favourite board director. Your a lot nicer than all them fusty old fellas. The guy you replaced, such a grumpy shite, Mr Caldwell, glad to see the back of that fecker. Anyway, I’m just glad for the chance to chat at last. We barely get to speak no more since you’ve ditched us all for the high-flyers. I mean, I ain’t complaining, I get, it’s business...”

“Dick...”

“Yeah”

“I’m sorry we don’t talk more. Could you wheel this thing into my office? But, don’t make it look too obvious. I don’t fancy getting the rep” she looked at him with her doe-ey-est eyes. He couldn’t say no to them.

“No problemo, flower. DIY Dick will have this in your office quieter than a mouse and faster than you can say… I dunno, some ting really quick to say. Come on and back away, you don’t want one of these fuckers falling on you. That happened once, not here but at Woolworths where I worked way back when in the distant past. The poor lad made it but he was in hospital for weeks. I wonder whatever happened...”

And soon the entire chocolate filled vending machine had been put in her office. And despite the requests for subtlety, everyone in the office, out of the corner of their eye, spotted him putting it in there. And when Rosy went in there as well, closed the door and shut the blinds, work ceased and the gossiping commenced.

“What she doing with that thing in there”

“She’s been acting funny ever since she got her promotion”

“Yeah, what was with her storming out the office yesterday”

“I never liked her. Always find her too nice. Like it was act or something”

“I heard she just left to go across the road and eat out at Luciano’s”

“Ah, they do a great bolognese”

“Do they? Bolognese? I’ll remember that”

“I think she’ll get fat”

“She’ll never get fat. Rosy? Nah, she’ll always be the size of a mouse”

“No, she eats like that, you watch my words Ianto, she’ll get fat”

“Ya think?”

 

But Rosy was oblivious to the words flying around at her expense. Despite their rowdy voices and the paper-thin walls, all the things well within earshot disappeared into her subconscious while all immediate resources were redirected to the task at hand. She was oblivious to everything but her hunger. It was as if the rest of the world was on mute and all she could hear were the harrowing cries of her yearnings for more. And more. And more.

Chocolate content was the thing she needed most. So it was the Dairy Milks she went for first, finishing them off with aplomb. Each one in the machine, going right along to the back, all guzzled as if water in the desert. After that, Milk Chocolate Buttons were raced through as if they weren’t there at all. Then Aeros. Then Flakes. Twirls were good too. After that, the chocolate ratio began to diminish.

And after that, the warmth of her office began to make the chocolate melt. The Snickers bars were stickier than she liked, each one staining her dainty hands a little more. The Mars bars started leaving chocolate stains around her delicate mouth. The Fruit and Nuts were soft at this point, and made for an unglamorous stage in this all-consuming quest to consume all. It was eating the Picnics that the bin in her office, emptied daily by the cleaners, began over-flowing. It was the Lion bars where she noticed that even her wonderful floral dress was stained with chocolate, unflattering brown mixed in with the red and the white.

And it was the Crunchie bars when someone entered into her office to see what she had been up to for the past couple of hours.

“Oh hey Rosy, what are you up to… oh”

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A second serving and the mystery, along with Rosy's navel, deepens

Chapter 2

 

“Oh girl, what are you doing?” Alabama said as she entered Rosy Richards’ office and seeing the chaos before her. The strewn wrappers filling beyond the waste paper basket and on to the floor. And sitting down next to them was a ravenous raccoon of a woman, a squirrel feasting on a nut or a dog straining as it pulls the meat off a bone.

“Just really hungry Alabama. I don’t know what’s come over me. I just need chocolate” Rosy’s explanation felt thrifty in light of the wreckage before Alabama.

“You know girl that it’s… you’ve got chocolate in your hair. You look like you’re auditioning for the role of Augustus Gloop’s girlfriend”

“Does he work in accounts?”

“No, but he did drown in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory”

The two then just sat in an awkward silence, before Alabama started giggling. Rosy looked up at her to see Alabama struggling to stifle childish giggles as she looked at Rosy in her cocoa-coated state. And while Rosy looked a hot mess, rather literally, Alabama carried her usual calm cool. Spider black hair in a short bob that had been pulled back behind her ears, revealing them to be pierced all the way up. She rocked a worksuit in a way that only a bisexual girl can, letting the narrow lines slip down her lithely. She was tall at 5ft9, thin at 112lbs, and irrepressibly stylish.

“Is it bad?” Rosy said, tears in her eyes as her eating pace slowed down.

“I’m not gonna tell you lies girl, it’s… bad. Like real bad. I think your best shout is to just wait it out in here until everyone else has gone home, in all honesty” Alabama curled her nose as she revealed the concession. It was barely lunch time and Alabama was suggesting waiting until after 5pm. Realistically, the office would be fairly busy until 7pm. She couldn’t hide in her office for 7 hours, could she?

“I have a meeting at 3pm, but I guess I could postpone that to tomorrow” Rosy said, looking around in disarray, her head spinning at what had just happened. Again. “Oh, and thanks Alabama, you always look after me. Even after… you know what”

“Oh, give over ye daft shite. You know, you’re such a bad bitch, mad respect for you doing this” said Alabama as Rosy groaned in discomfort. “The amount of fucks you must have given must be fucking close to zero”

It made Rosy smile. Alabama always did. That was half the problem.

“Thanks Al”

And Alabama left Rosy to hide in her office, shamefully smeared in chocolate until everybody had left for the day. She herself had a fair bit of responsibility within the company as head of financial reporting, and had interviews to do later in the day.

And Rosy sat in silence in her office, almost terrified to make a move. She didn’t want anybody’s attention. She couldn’t even sneak out to the bathroom to clean herself up, it would involve walking past everybody and them gawping at the state of her. And she didn’t want anyone to have reason to come into her office either. In fact, anything that drew people’s attention to her was a bad thing. All she had to do though was lie low and everything would be okay.

 

 

 

The penmanship was familiar. The same cursive strokes, the same slant on the ‘t’, the same loop on the underside of the joined-together g. The ink looked fresh, recently applied. The smudges looked recent too.

 

Rosy Richards – Spaghetti Bolognese

 

At 3pm, things were going okay. Sure, time trundled forwards in a lethargic manner, dragging its heels whenever it could, but there was no drama and not too much peril. Emails were answered and phone calls were taken without any great hitch. It was all going plain sailing, right up until it all went wrong.

She was talking to the Head of Marketing as they were going back on forth on the merits and costs of their continued sponsorship of the Irish national Gaelic football team in light of the released marketing data breakdown of its efficacy, when her stomach made a familiar grumble. It was a low rumble, like Barry White gargling lead, like Smaug with acid reflux. They were earlier tremors that seismologists tell us precede volcanic activity or tsunami warnings. And Rosy recognised their sounds instantaneously.

She tried to deny it. She tried to hold back the tide. But the sound soon shifted into pain, and the pain soon evolved to unbearable as the house of cards of Rosy’s temporary peace came to a clattering cessation. And it was hard to describe just how she knew that it was spaghetti bolognese that would alleviate this feeling of her organs scrunching up and being wrung out like an old sponge. She just did. In the same way that you know when to blink if something is thrown at you. The same way that you know to go to the toilet when you do. The way that you know that if you walk off a bridge, it is downwards that you fall. You just do. You just know.

What Rosy didn’t know was what to do. Due to an egregious oversight, the vending machine that not occupied the far corner of her office didn’t stock full blown Italian meals. Luciano’s across the road did but… given the state that she was in, she couldn’t see how she’d manage to get down without being perceived as the piece de resistance of a passing freak show. She decided she needed Alabama’s help. She dialled her friend’s extension and begged for assistance. And Alabama, thankfully, had a plan. Ish. It was still being devised as she detailed it to Rosy.

“I’ve just put the plug in the kitchen sink and switched on the water. In about 15 seconds I’m gonna yell and point, and generally draw everyone’s attention to the overflowing water. And you’re going to sneak out behind them so hopefully nobody will notice. Now ten seconds so you be ready”

And 10 seconds later came the panicked cry from Alabama as she pointed at the water going everywhere. Everyone came over to look and fix as the carpet soaked and possibly even began to seep through the carpet, risking structural damage. All to provide a distraction for Rosy.

She hurried off, not looking behind her. Down the stairs, not making eye contact with anyone for fear they’ll recognise her and be put off by the brown that had made away across too much of her clothes, face and hands. She rushed into the toilets downstairs, and scraped off the worst of it on her face and hands, and even gave her dress a quick scrub. But the hunger was too much for anything other than a rush job and she exited the building and began walking across the road to Luciano’s for the second day in a row.

“Oi, ye bollix, where the feck are you off to?” came a loud shout from behind just before Rosy entered the building. At this point, Rosy wasn’t in the mood for pausing. The pain was dulling all of her other senses and thought processes to the point of nauseous monomania, and she could barely hold any idea in her head than numbing it by feeding it the thing that it wanted. But the voice was Alabama’s and so she knew she didn’t have much in the way of options but to show courtesy.

“Shite on a trike, girl. I’m beginning to think that my distraction might have been a bad call. Apparently it’s a health and safety no-no to flood an office and, according to that cunt Jack Gielgud, heads may roll. And talking of rolls, I hear ya hungry girl?” Alabama said with typical frankness.

“Please, I just need to eat spaghetti bolognese” Rosy said weakly.

“I could go a bowl also, but you’re paying Mdme CFO” Alabama said with a flirtatious smile.

 

Rosy was on her fifth portion of the same dish before Alabama could get words out of her friend. Until then, the hunger was so much that even that was a strain. There was the occasional grunt after bowl three, but not even eye contact until bowl two. Which didn’t suit Alabama one, who seemed to have a lot of questions about Rosy’s behaviour. But she had to wait while she slowly ate her own Minestrone soup.

“So, what’s going on Rosy?” Alabama asked while Rosy slurped. Pasta had now smeared its tomato red sauce across her face where it had, until recently, been chocolate. The pace with which she had eaten had left a tomato stained trail of destruction on her face and added brown to the red on her dress. It wasn’t a classy look but things had gotten desperate.

“Honestly, I have about zero clues. I just keep getting these ridiculously overwhelming urges to eat. It feels like a stomach bug, except with food going in instead of out. Oh Al, what the fuck’s wrong with me? Do you think it’s a stress thing?” Rosy looked glum as she finished off her fifth bowl and signalled to the waitress for a sixth.

“Shit girl, that sounds awful. And freaky” Alabama pulled her best thoughtful face. It was a good thoughtful face. It looked thoughtful.

“I know, do you think I’m having a breakdown? I don’t want to have a breakdown” Rosy said, as they waited for bowl of spaghetti bolognese number 6. Rosy stifles a burp, nature’s reminder that she’s been eating a little quickly of late.

“God, I dunno. Maybe? Like, I’m no psycho-brain-fixer-y-person...”

“Psychotherapist?”

“Yup, that’s the one, girl. But, you do seem to have a lot going on in your head. Job stress, promotion stress. And that whole guilty-stressy thing that you like to do” Alabama waved her hands at Rosy as she said it.

“About the fact that I’m a home-wrecker? That I could have destroyed your relationship with Matilda? That I had sex with about the only friend that I have. Yeah, I guess I do feel just a teensy bit guilty about it” Rosy said, before tucking back into her meal. Her mood suddenly seemed heavier.

“Firstly, how are you a home-wrecker? My home’s not been wrecked. Unless that’s a euphemism…. But seriously, Matilda doesn’t know”

“She so does know”

“She doesn’t. And two, I chose to do it. It was my decision. And it was wrong of me, I know that. It’s not on you. You carry too much of sort of shite around with ye. I cheated on her, with you. And it’s not like you’re even my type. I prefer more Matilda-shaped girls. It’s just that I like you as a person and I dunno…

Besides, you’d look good if you stopped being such a scraggly bag of bones, girl. Wait, maybe that’s why you’re doing this. You subconsciously are trying to win me over by adopting a more Matilda-shaped physique. If so, give me a call in three months, girl. Way you’re going, you’ll be there by then” Alabama teased.

“Yeah, I doubt I’ll be that big, that quick” Rosy said, with a rare cheeky smile.

“I dunno, have you seen what you’ve been eating?”

“Yeah, but how big’s Matilda now?”

“Recently hit the big 400. But she carries it well. Doesn’t look a pound over 350” Alabama said, causing Rosy to giggle. Rosy always admired and was amused by Al’s honesty and frankness. Even with her fetish, Alabama spoke about it as if it were the most regular thing in the world. Which it wasn’t. Which it most decidedly wasn’t.

“And things are alright between the two of you since...” Rosy flashed guilt again.

“Oh fuck yeah. Don’t worry girl. We’re getting on like a house on fire. If not better. Cos, you know, we’re not burning down or anything. It’s going great. She’s doing well at work, hoping to be made head of department for history, which is a big deal at somewhere like Trinity College...”

“Oh yeah, she specialises in Japanese history doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, ancient Japanese texts. That kinda thing. It sounds kinda cool but… it’s not that cool. Like, she thinks it’s the coolest thing ever, which is nice I guess, but she’s got some pretty awesome scrolls and things… oh fuck. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Alabama suddenly got serious.

“Bowl number 7?”

“No. Well, yeah, I guess. I mean. No, I mean, remember I showed you that notebook. The dEATh note?” Alabama recalled.

“No?”

“Yeah you do. She showed it you last Christmas when you came round. Anyway, if you don’t remember, there’s this book called the dEATh note. Th word EAT is capitalised. It’s some Japanese thing, bit weird. From carbon-dating they know it is older than Versuvius or Etna or… I dunno… some big volcano thing. Apparently it’s like Chernobyl and you can tell what pre and post dates this eruption. Well… it’s really old and really Japanese, but it’s written modern English. Weird right? Weirder still, apparently, if you write the name of the person and a food stuff, it makes them eat it” Alabama explained.

“No offence Al, but that sounds like a bunch of bollocks. You know magic’s not real, right?” Rosy said.

“But it worked. I know, we tried it!”

“You wrote… you defaced an ancient text?” Rosy said with a big smile on her face.

“Well, we’d had a bit to drink and we thought it would be a laugh. And it’s not like it’s a one of a kind. There’s a number of them apparently. But we wrote in the university copy Matilda’s name and the word cupcakes next to it and oh my god she went mad, I tell yer. Cos Matty likes cupcakes, but I’d never seen anything like it. It was honest to god hours of eating, non-stop. And she’s a big girl, though, of course, back then she was not as big. Maybe nearer 3 than 400lbs. But it was like, I dunno...”

“5 hours?”

“Yeah, exactly that much. Wait? Is that how long it affects you?”

“Yeah” Rosy admitted.

“Oh my god, then somebody’s got one of these texts and is using it against you. Oh my god, this is a real life whodunnit! And you’re the victim. This is so fucking exciting. Just mad levels of awesome right now” Alabama beamed while the seventh bowl was served for Rosy who meekly smiled in gratitude before digging in like she’d never seen food before.

“Do you think?”

“Okay, we need to draft a list of suspects. Anybody who might not like you. Can you think of anyone who might bear a grudge against you?” Alabama said, sounding like every TV detective she’d ever seen.

“Well, most people”

“Oh, give over, ye daft shite. You’re such a people-pleaser, everyone loves you”

“Iago doesn’t love me. He hates me. And… he did ask to borrow a pen, a biro” Rosy recalled. “A couple of hours before one of the feasts.”
“Fucking get in there! We have our first fucking suspect. Because I took a couple of hours before it actually kicked in with Matty so maybe there’s a delay. Lag, or something. Actually, can I borrow a pen. I left mine at work. We need to make a list”

“Will a biro do. I have a lot of biros”

“Yeah, thanks a million, that’ll be great. So Ianto is our prime suspect. Now, anyone else?”

“Your girlfriend, Matilda?”

“She doesn’t know about that time we hooked up”

“She might”

“She doesn’t. I’d know. That said, she does have means, motive and opportunity, cos she’s the only one we know who definitely has access to one of these books. Oh, this is so exciting. I’ve always wanted to be Miss Marple” Alabama gushed.

“Less exciting for me. Sorry, that sounded bitchy. No wonder nobody likes me. Oh, and there’s John. John Gielgud. He hates me to the bone”

“Okay, that ones a definite maybe. He is the kinda guy who would do something like that. Plus, he’s dead rich so he could buy one”

“A mysterious ancient Japanese notebook? Where? On eBay? Oh, I love you at times Al, but I can’t see them coming up on eBay” Rosy said as she carried on eating.

“So that gives us three suspects to investigate...”

“Oh, and you”

“Me? I don’t hate you, girl. Quite the contrary, I think you’re really fetching. I thought I demonstrated that quite obviously on the New Year party when we...”

“Yeah, I’m sorry… I hate bringing that night up. Yeah, you might not hate me, but you might do it to me because you like me. I mean, ‘call me in three months time’?” Rosy pointed out.

“You think I might just be fattening you up to claim you as my own? Fuck Rosy, I’d be offended if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s actually totally the type of thing that I’d do. I mean, I know I didn’t do it. But that’s exactly what I would say if I did do it, so I understand your suspicions” Alabama said, amused rather than insulted by the idea. “So, shall we go and investigate?”

“Can it wait until the hunger’s passed?”

“How long you been eating?”

“Nearly an hour and a half, I think”

“Jesus Christ, girl! You’ve got another 3 ½ hours of eating like this? Oh my god, like a dream come true for me. You’re gonna have the world’s biggest food baby when you’re done? Does it hurt?” Alabama asked.

“I can’t feel anything apart from hunger. But tomorrow it will hurt, if this morning was anything to go by. I felt like John Hurt from that Alien movie” Rosy said, remembering the brain-splintering pain and trying to make light of it.

“Which alien movie?”

“Alien”

“Yeah?”

“No, it… Alien is the name of the movie. Have you never seen Alien?”

“I don’t really do sci-fi, girl. Sci-fi is just for men who wanna have sex with robots”

“But I like sci-fi, Al?”

“Well, then I guess you wanna have sex with robots. Don’t blame me, I don’t make the rules”

And Rosy smiled again, the ignominy of her situation being calmed by company. Rosy didn’t know how she’d cope without her best friend.

They continued chatting for another couple of hours, losing track of the amount of portions Rosy had ordered a long time ago. But this weird phenomenon plaguing Rosy was the best thing to happen to them since their sexual intermingling at the New Year party. Since then, everything had become strained, but they were finally loosening up once more in each other’s presence. Conveniently. But their relationship was the only thing loosening, as Rosy’s floral dress, already sullied with red and brown splodges from a day of indulgence, was now being confronted by being put on before she’d eaten like she was preparing to hibernate. And it made for increasing discomfort at Rosy’s end, though increasing pleasure at Alabama’s.

“So, how about this for a bad-arse plan of action… you deal with Ianto and sort out whatever shite you have going on with him. Give him a blowjob or something...” Alabama suggested, causing Rosy to nearly choke on her meal.

“No to the blowjob thing. But… I’ll try to patch our differences. I owe him that at least. And you Al, you need to find that book, the university copy, and see if it’s your girlfriend’s handwriting in it”

“I’ll do that. But, just a heads up, if it is her handwriting, I’m gonna be really tempted to protect her. She is my girlfriend. Nothing to do with the fact that I’m secretly rooting for whoever’s fattening you up” Alabama replied with a big cheeky grin. Rosy hoped she was joking.

“And I’m sure we’ll deal with Gielgud at some point or another. But we’ll do him last because he terrifies me. Him and his big, scary moustache”

“It is a big, scary moustache, I’ll grant ye that. And he has a temper like no other. And he hates you. So, don’t blame you for avoiding him” Alabama hardly reassured.

“Okay, so just another hour of this and then we’ll get to it”

“Jesus Christ girl, another hour? Girl, you gotta weigh yourself when you get up tomorrow, after everything’s been digested. I wanna see how much you’ve managed to gain in two days, cos Matty’s record is 7lbs, but you’ve definitely outdone that”

“Ha, you are enjoying this way too much”

“I’m enjoying this just the right amount. But seriously, I know it’s stressing you out and this new job of yours in hard enough without somebody sabotaging you like this. We’ll get them. Whichever arsehound is doing this, we’ll get them. That’s how good a friend I am”

“Thanks, Al” Rosy said with a blush, before ordering another serving of Spaghetti Bolognese. She was getting a little sick of the taste of it at this point, and wished she didn’t need to eat it. But need to eat it she did.

“Hey Rosy, I was just thinking. About the dish. When you was trapped in your office eating chocolate earlier...”

“I vaguely recall that happening”

“And everyone was gossiping about you...”

“They were gossiping?”

“Did you think that they wouldn’t? Oh, and don’t pretend you didn’t hear them, your walls are so thin you could hear someone fart in there. Which we did by the way… anyway, you probably heard the gossiping but you might not have heard someone mention how good the bolognese was here. A bit of a coincidence don’t ya think? Someone says how good the bolognese is and, next thing you know, someone prompts you to come here. I think someone from the office heard that suggestion and figured that would be a good, messy meal to compound your issues. I think the culprit’s from the office” Alabama reasoned.

“Are you just saying that to rule out your girlfriend?”

“Yes. But also no. I’ll still check the university copy of the book to make sure, but I think Ianto is the bookie’s favourite. Gielgud second. And Tanni as a long-shot. What with you always getting her name wrong”

“I… I’ve been getting her name wrong? Is she not called Tammy? She’s called… Tanni? Feck. I bet that’s been driving her up the wall, poor thing. And I keep running into her, literally. She’s a suspect Al. If she’s not using a notebook, she’s at least using one of them dolls that you stab. What are they… voodoo dolls. Something. Poor thing, bet she’s right pissed off with me. Oh, why do I have so many enemies Al?”

“Because you’re a people-pleaser, and nothing displeases people more. Plus, getting promoted habitually can be quite envy-inducing. But, rest assured Ms. Richards, I love you. I love you with every extra mouthful you eat” Alabama said, before bursting into giggles. Rosy joined in, appreciating Alabama’s humour. She was joking, right?

It was at this point that the head chef and proprietor, Luciano himself, came out to see which girl it was who kept ordering the same meal over and over, knowing that she did the same yesterday also.

“Hey, my girls, it is you who keeps ordering my fantastic dishes” he said, with a soft Italian accent. He was a fairly old and slim man with a friendly face, that they knew reasonably well.

“Yes, it’s us. Just love your food so much” Rosy lied with a smile.

“Oh, you were always my favourites. But this is very kind. You are magnificent for business”

“Oh, I bet we are” Alabama said, giving Rosy a look.

“And how are you so skinny? Always beautiful, that’s your secret. You’re always beautiful. My girls. Well, when you tire of my magnificent spaghetti bolognese, I will do you free dessert. On the house. I insist” he said as he walked off.

“So… are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Alabama whispered conspiratorially to her friend.

“That there is no way I’m eating dessert after this, so your going to have to eat both?”

“No. No, that if we’re so good for business, maybe he’s using the notebook to drum up business? I think we should add him to our suspect pool”

“Then explain the chocolate?” Rosy countered, referencing the fact that forcing her to eat chocolate didn’t help in that regard.

“I dunno, a red herring to distract us? Wait, hang on a sec. I’m not eating your dessert too! Only one of us getting fat around here girl” Alabama realised.

“Oh please Ally. For me” Rosy did that doey-eyed expression again.

“You’re a shite, you are, I tell ye. Fine. I guess I’ll do double-desserts. For you. But I’m not getting fat. I am the thin one, remember that. I am always the thin one. I’m not the one who gets fattened. I’m the one who fattens”

“Breaking bad?”

“Yeah, good get. I wasn’t sure if you’d get that one. Given that it wasn’t sci-fi, robot-fucker”

And they both laughed as Alabama added Luciano’s name to the suspect list.

 

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Apologies, this chapter is slower than some of the others. And, as ever with my stories, this story is generally slower than most. So sorry for that

 

Chapter 3

 

 

“Alexa, stop”

The alarm, supposedly serene though anything that wakes a person up at 6:30am doesn’t feel particularly serene, ceased its wake-up call. Alabama didn’t want to wake up though, she was not a morning person unless that morning was spent sleeping until the early afternoon. And yet 6.30am beckoned and it was time to stir.

“So babe, where were you last night?” Matilda asked as she did her own grumbling routine at the early hour. Matilda was not so averse to early hours like Alabama was, but still couldn’t summon enthusiasm for anything before 8am. Like with so many other things, Alabama’s bad habits had been rubbing off on Matilda.

“Morning to you too, me sugarplum fairy” Alabama retorted with a cheeky smile. Because, as bad as the mornings were to her, and they were as awful as the hunger for chocolate had been to Rosy, it all disappeared into the ether when she could ogle her girlfriend as she got up. When Alabama and Matilda had gotten together, Matty had been the type that tended towards the stocky and stout. She was sporty, playing hockey as a keeper at a semi-decent semi-local level, but she was also a foodee. However the transition from foodee to feedee had seen stockiness turned to out and out lardiness. She was still a keeper, but only in the sense that Alabama considered her ‘a keeper’.

“Don’t you try to sugarplum fairy your way out of answering the question. I ordered our usual and had nobody to share it with. I had to eat the whole takeaway myself and… are you smiling? I’m being serious, I need to go on a diet. I can’t keep gaining like this, I’m a balloon. Stop smiling! It’s not sexy, it’s embarrassing!” Matilda said with a poorly repressed smile of her own. Her protestations felt as weak as ever. “You know, I worked it out. I was 190lbs when I met you, and I’m nearly 400 now. That means I’ve gained more in the 4 years since I met you than the first 26 years of my life, including my actual conception and birth.”

“In my defence, you are sexy” Alabama said while watching her girlfriend decide which blouse to wear. Whichever she chose, it would be a tight fit.

“That’s not a defence Bam, that’s not how defences work. ‘Sorry your honour, I murdered the arsehole. But, in my defence, they were sexy’. No wonder you only work in finance” Matilda said, before a cushion was launched at her.

“Speaking of sexy… and arsehole for that matter… you’ve not got to be at work for another hour and a half. We could… you know...” Alabama wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“You are an incorrigible little shite, you know that? Fine, on two conditions. One, you tell me what incorrigible means...”

“It means… I can’t be corrugated?” Alabama said, with a big cheesy grin.

“Fuck. I tell ye, it’s a good job you’re good looking Bam, cos I sure ain’t with ye for ye brains. And two, you tell me what you were doing last night. You can’t just ditch me like that without a word and not expect to explain yourself” Matilda chastised.

“Sorry, I zoned out after the bit where you said I was good-looking...”

“What were you doing last night!?”

“Oh fuck, yeah, I meant to talk to ye about this. I’m gonna need to ask ye a few questions. You see… I was doing detective work” Alabama said with a big grin.

“Detective work?”

“Yea, you… you remember Rosy Richards from work. The red-head? The people-pleaser?”

“Oh, the hot one?”

“Ha! Um… not my type personally. I like my women… when they gain more weight in 4 years than they did in the first 26 years including conception and birth” For a woman so brutally honest, Alabama was a very adept liar.

“Well, that’s a coincidence, because, and you know the funniest thing… I happen to have gained that much in that amount of time. What are the odds?”

“I guess you’re my type then” Alabama slipped into a sexy smile, confident that the lie had been bypassed.

“So what about Rosy Reynolds?”

“Hmmm… interesting. Richards. Her name is Rosy Richards. Now was that a double-bluff I wonder?”

“Are you going to tell me or are you going to communicate in glyphs forevermore?”

“Fiiiine. Jeeez! So, Rosy Reynolds had some crazy eating thing happen to her a few times. She just went absolutely bonkers and ate madly for five hours non-stop...”

“What’s bonkers about that? I don’t call that bonkers, I call that Saturday” And now it was Matilda’s turn to deliver a sexy smile.

“Oh, I do love you Dr Matilda O’Shea. I picked right”

“And?”

“And… does it sound familiar? Eating the same thing, fixatedly?”

“I’m kinda sure there’s no such word as fixatedly… oh, you’re talking about cupcakegate? Shit, she’s been cupcakegated. Poor fecker, nobody deserves to go through that whole cupcake thing. Wait, so what are you detecting? Are you… do you think somebody’s doing it to her?” And Matilda’s eyes bulged as much as the rest of her at the thought.

“Yeah, so we’re drawing up a list of suspects and we’re going to work out who our mystery… writer, I guess… is. And you’re on the list, Matty”

I’m on the list? I barely know her” As Matilda said this, Alabama crawled across the bed naked, and booped Matilda’s nose.

“That’s why I wondered if you getting her name wrong was a double bluff. After all, you do think she’s hot. Are you cheating on me with her?”

“Don’t joke about that kinda stuff Bam” Matilda said, her mood immediately souring.

“Oh. It was… sorry. Anyway, the point was you had access to the book so you were a suspect. It sounds silly now I say it out loud” Alabama tried to read Matilda’s expression after that sudden mood shift.

“That book? The one in the university library? It got stolen ages ago. I thought you knew that. Now look, I’m going to work so I’ll see you later” she said, and she walked out. Alabama heard the front door bang as her girlfriend left.

“But you haven’t even had breakfast” she said quietly, to nobody in particular. Nothing said that Matilda’s mood was serious like her missing a meal. She very rarely missed Alabama’s meal, let alone her own. It was one of the reasons one of them was so thin and the other so resoundingly not. Alabama began fearing the worst, and headed for her phone.

 

HEY, HOPE UR OK LOL AFTER YESTERDAY

AND MATTY IS A SUSPECT

 

SHE KNOWS

 

And Alabama curled up into bed and began to cry.

 

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

 

Rosy was walking into work. She had been toying with hitting up the gym, given the monsoon-like deluge of carbohydrates that had made their inescapable migration towards her petite self, but she reasoned that her work deficit trumped her calorie deficit and she better put in those additional hours at the office. She had gone absent without leave halfway through the past few days without a word of justification to anyone else, and she had so much to catch up on.

She’d gotten this job, essentially reaching the uppermost pinnacle of a medium-sized multinational corporation by the age of 30, with such outlandishly ambitious ideas that it all felt such a damp squib to be fending of a phantom feeder and sequestering herself in her office while she chows down on chocolate. She and the board had bold plans, plans to be bought out by an investment firm who would provide the short-term capital relief to fulfil Jack Gielgud’s lofty expansion plans. He didn’t want EatWell to be some niche Irish store front, he wanted to be veganism’s answer to Amazon. But, to appeal to investors involved a lot of financial reporting and, unfortunately, consolidation. Nobody knew but the main body of directors but EatWell was contemplating making job cuts. Major cuts. Including all store fronts, and accompanying staff, as they focus on the growing market of online sales. And Rosy’s first major project was overseeing this brutal employment genocide.

She had to present the data next week to the directors, and it would be the biggest presentation of her career. Part of her wanted to sink the entire thing, sacrifice her career and let the entire initiative burn. Jack Gielgud was rarely amenable to change but if she could report the data as being a massive hit, he might back-track. Or, he might fire her and ask Ianto to come up with better data. Ianto, who couldn’t be trusted with his own finances but apparently could with the company’s. Ianto who had been really fucked over being overlooked for the directorial position, having just bought a house with the expectations of a golden handshake and bumper pay rise that Rosy had received instead. That Ianto.

Rosy had to work on the basis that today was just going to be a normal day. No bizarre cravings or unusual yearnings ruining her routine. Just a normal Wednesday after two weird outliers that were in no way representative of how the rest of her time would be. But there was always that potential. After all, the past two days should have been normal too, and they were many furlongs from being so. Somebody, somewhere, Ianto or otherwise, was sabotaging her time here.

She walked into her office and almost shrieked as she entered, jumping out of her skin to see somebody already in there. All the pressure, all the paranoia had left her on edge, and then she walks into her office at 4:30am to find somebody in there? DIY Dick jumped out of his skin too, banging his head on the vending machine as he did.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the absolute living shite out of me!” Rosy gasped, her heart pumping. “Oh wait, are you okay Dick?”

“Fuck! I’ve been better. God almighty that hurt! What, and I mean no offence by this, the fuck, seriously no offence, are you doing in here at this hour Rosy? I thought I had the building to meself”

“Yeah, got some catching up to do at work. And what are you doing rummaging in my office?”

“Rummaging? Pull the other one, flower. I was restocking the vending machine. You must have been hungry yesterday, I’ve seen a bin so full of wrappers. Thought you might want a top-up” DIY Dick explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry for acting paranoid. It’s just the shock, truly. And thanks. Though I have no intention of eating any more chocolate. Not after yesterday, though I’m pretty sure I’d have said the same thing this time yesterday. And we all saw how that worked out. So thank you. It’s very kind” Rosy offered a smile, part-apology and part-gratitude.

“Oh, and would you be able to sign off on replenishing these? As you can imagine, it’s over our budget”

“I can’t… justify that” Rosy protested with worry.

“You don’t have to. You’re the CFO. Don’t justify it, just do it. You’re one of the big bosses now, flower. Sign it and nobody will question it. And it’s all sorted as if yesterday never happened”

“Yesterday never having happened sounds good. Come on then Dick, pass the invoices over and I’ll sign them”

“I honestly don’t know how a girl who eats like that can stay so thin, I gotta say. You one of them runners or cyclists or something?”

“No, just yesterday was a… a cheat day”

“Well, you sure got your moneys-worth out of cheating that particular day. It clearly works for you, ye skinny arse” DIY Dick said, and a smile was on his face. And for what it’s worth, a smile was on Rosy’s too. It had been far too long since those two had found themselves with time to chat. This bingeing had brought the two closer together. And with that thought, and the fact that he had sneaked into her office at an ungodly hour, Rosy wondered if that was reason enough to add him to the suspect pool. She would reconvene the discussion once Alabama arrived at work.

It was over two hours later, still too early for anybody else in the office, when Rosy received a text from Alabama.

“Matty knows? Oh dear god” Rosy sat back down at her desk and waited for the dizziness to stop. Matilda knew? Matilda knew. She knew about the affair. Was it an affair? A liaison perhaps? A mislaying of the boundaries? Was it an illicit affair, or do those require the couple to be married? You don’t often hear about licit affairs, that’s for sure. And gay marriage had been around in Ireland now nearly as long as Alabama had been with Matilda. She remembered Alabama telling her the story. The “and one day, that will be me and Matty” story, the “party in the street with the woman she knew she’d love forever” story, because she apparently knew that she was the one, even back then. But they never married, for whatever reason, so was it cheating? Is that the word when they’re not married, because Rosy was sure that adultery was only if they were married. Whichever way you phrased it, it didn’t sound good to be the woman responsible for that.

She rang Alabama. She had to. They needed to talk. She put her mobile to her ear and listened to the percussive strum of the phone not being answered. The phone didn’t even go through to answer machine, cut off prematurely, presumably, by Alabama not wanting to be disturbed. That worried Rosy. Alabama’s text didn’t sound like she was struggling, but she never didn’t answer the phone. And to actively cancel the call? Either way, Rosy could not have these worries circling in her head. She text Alabama instead.

 

I’M COMING OVER

TO YOURS

 

ARE YOU OK?

 

WE NEED TO TALK

 

 

There was no response between that text being sent and Rosy knocking on Alabama’s door. No answer meant Rosy used the spare key that she had. Because nothing said having an affair like having a spare key for her place.

“I’m coming in Al, are you okay?” Rosy asked, looking in tentatively around the flat.

“Yeah sure, fine. Sorry, didn’t answer, I was in the shower. You really didn’t need to come round, I’m fine” Alabama said with a towel wrapped around her and a smile on her face.

“You were in the shower?”

“Yeah, that was all”

“Then why is your hair not wet?”

Alabama paused at that one.

“Okay, I didn’t have a shower. I’m not okay. Happy now? She fucking knows, Rosy. She knows I cheated on her” and so Rosy realised that ‘cheating’ was the correct term.

“I know, Al. I know” and Rosy reached over to hug her friend. “Hey, are we aresholes?”

“I think we might just be. I think we might just be arseholes, Rosy. Which is a shame really, I don’t really much wanna be an arsehole. Fuck, I hope she’s the one making you fat so at least I don’t feel quite as guilty” Alabama said with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, I know. It does feel karmic… like I feel happy that it’s happening, almost. Is that weird? I actually am happy that it’s happening cos I feel so guilty… about everything, the promotion, the affair...”

“It’s not an affair, you have to be married for that” Alabama corrected.

“Oh, I didn’t… I wasn’t sure to be honest. Anyway, I’m glad I’m getting punished. I deserve it”

“Yeah, I forgot this was all about you” Alabama said quietly but sharply. “Fuck, girl. I’m sorry. I really am an arsehole. I shouldn’t talk to you like that. You’re my one good friend and it was not your fault. I was the one in the relationship and I was the one who… instigated it”

“That… you didn’t instigate it Al. I did. I just let you think I did. Fuck. Look at us, Arseholes Incorporated” Rosy sighed, and they both sat down and stared out the window into the middle distance. They looked out and hoped that a nuclear holocaust or an asteroid impact or some global catastrophe would wipe them and their indiscretion off the face of the Earth. But it didn’t. The world just carried on obliviously. I guess it was a long-shot.

“Oh, I’m fucked Rosy. Properly fucked. Matty didn’t even have breakfast, that’s how serious it was, Rosy”

“Oh shit, I know how much she likes breakfast too Al”

“Yeah, it’s in her top three favourite meals of the day. I tell you for what, how about we get pissed, I mean properly ossified, before we go to work?” Alabama suggested.

“You know, if you want to do something self-destructive… have you tried eating chocolate for five hours straight? I hear it does wonders for a guilty conscience” Rosy said with a weak smile.

“Ha! Can’t argue with you on that count, girl. So, plan B, just go back to work as if nothing happened and hope my girlfriend is waiting for me when I come home?”

“Plan B sounds good. Well, less shit than the other ideas and that makes it the best idea we’ve got” “Wait, talking of eating chocolate, you said you’d weigh yourself this morning. So… how did it go?” Alabama said, redirecting the conversation to a cheerier topic.

“Dunno...”

“You… oh, come on, use our scales, or my scales if Matty leaves, I dunno. Either way, they’re mad scientific scales that I got. It’ll read out the number for you, just in case you need assistance seeing your toes, and everything”

“Fiiine”

They walked off to the bathroom and Alabama took a close look at her good friend to see if she could discern any physical changes now the bloating had gone down. After all, she had an eye for spying change. Matilda may have been the relationship that had taken, but Alabama’s life had spent the 21 years previous to that doing the same thing to anything she could find with a pulse. And, over those years, she had becoming quite the discerning observer.

Unfortunately, Rosy’s insistence on wearing dresses shielded her bottom half from Alabama’s judgemental gaze, the flowing nature of the green and black tartan dress meant any deposits on her bottom half were veiled. Fortunately, the top half was more form-fitting, and more form-fitting than Alabama remembered it, also. Her face had looked the same, her arms looked their usual dainty selves. Even her chest, never unimpressive despite the rest of her being pint-sized, didn’t seem especially swollen. But her stomach showed change. It showed tightness. It showed itself wrestling against her apparel in a way that was most un-Rosy-like. Alabama quietly chastised herself for ogling her friend. On today of all days.

Rosy took a deep breath and, once calibrated, stood on the scales, to read the number 115lb.

“Is that good?” Alabama asked tentatively, though fairly sure that it wasn’t.

“Is putting on 9lbs in 2 days good?”

“From my perspective or yours?” Alabama teased, hint of humour returning.

“Well, I’m hoping that’s the end of it, so hopefully… it won’t matter either way”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the end of it. Unless Matty’s behind it, in which case expect hunger pangs in about… an hour and a half, cos she will so take it out on you Rosy”

I know, Al. I know. Come on, let’s not linger and make the place untidy. I need to get back in the office before anything bad happens. I’d actually like to do some actual work today” Rosy suggested, a little deflated at the extent to which she’d inflated.

“You go on ahead, I’ve got something to do first” Alabama said, leaving Rosy to walk on ahead.

 

 

The same hand gripped the same pen, leaning over the same book.

 

Rosy Richards – Doughnuts

 

 

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Apologies for the chapter length, it's a long one but it has some good bits hopefully

 

Chapter 4

 

 

 

“Would you mind if we push the meeting back til this afternoon? I’m thinking, what time did it start… 10 so… is 3pm this afternoon good for you Mr Gielgud?” Rosy said, trying her very best to disguise her chewing. Her maths were her strong suit and she was confident that the problem would have passed by then. It kicked in at 10am, and each bout that she had experienced, had previously lasted between four and five hours, a figure supported by Matilda’s flirtation with this apparent Japanese chronicle. And all this was just as well because she was about to have her first one-to-one meeting with the CEO who only hired her out of a beleaguered admiration for her appearance, something that Rosy’s newfound habit seemed to be sabotaging. Doughnuts aren’t a girl’s best friend.

John Gielgud would have been under impression that Rosy had answered her phone. Why would he think otherwise? He rang her extension and then, four seconds later, he heard her voice. That Rosy had redirected her phone to her mobile so that she could dart to the bakery would not have crossed his mind. That she was spending her late morning eating one doughnut after enough in a sticky fingered mess, with jam and sugar marking her fingers like ink from old newspapers, would seem downright impossible. But here Rosy was, scoffing doughnuts in varying forms and combinations to gut-busting degrees while fending off the one person in the company more highly ranked than she and skiving from an immensely senior and pressuring position in a large and growing company.

The virtue of doughnuts being this particular insta-craving, that had side-swiped Rosy, were manifold, however. One was there relative prevalence along the many streets of Dublin’s centre, with supermarkets, bakeries and other places all selling their sugary confections to Rosy in vast quantities, but not so vast as to be bizarre for she could always move onto another confectioner for the next batch that her appetite required. The second virtue lies in their myriad forms. Some glazed, some not, some filled, others holed. After yesterday tiring of the mechanical bombardment of the same dish ordered ad infinitum, this seemed a sweet, so excessively sweet that it numbed her gums and tongue, reprieve. It was far from ideal, but she felt like she was surviving the onslaught.

“You havin’ a party there?” asked yet another person at the counter as the latest wave of the doughnuts were purchased, Rosy desperately hoping the sugar on her lips and fingertips wouldn’t reveal the same lie that she continued to trot out each time she was asked.

“Yeah, office party thanks” with a sheepish smile. I mean, it wasn’t that far from the truth. She was an office worker and she was having a (one-woman) doughnut party so was it really that much of a lie? A white lie at worst. Although, with a flinch of embarrassment, Rosy realised that a doughnut party could euphemistically be the female equivalent of a sausage fest.

Rosy had found a park bench at the National Botanic Gardens, some way from her starting point not far from the centre of the Joycean city. She placed the carrier bags beside her and reasoned she had enough ammunition to last her for an hour or so, permitting her to rest her arms from lugging the stuff around and rest her feet that had been zigzagging across Dublin for nearly two hours straight in low-heeled work shoes. Plus, the botanical gardens were as nice a place as any to take a break.

She tried not to rush. Keep the pace steady, regular. The last thing she wanted was to eat more than necessary, especially after her 9lb discovery this morning. So she tried to drag out each bite as best she could to conserve both her supplies and the also shallow grave where her dignity lay.

“Oh my god, Rose? Rose Richards? Is that you? Well if it isn’t Rose Richards! Oh my god, how are you? And nice handbag by the way. Oh my god, I haven’t seen you since I left on maternity back in April. April, meet my little boy Leo” a blonde woman with a cheesy smile showed her a baby in a pram looking gormless.

“Oh hi Leo, how are you? So Siobhan, you called him Leo… after Di Caprio?”

“No, not after him. Dating teenagers at his age, I think it’s disgusting. No, after Varadkar”

“Oh, really Siobhan? That fecker! Sorry, that was rude… but c’mon!”

“I thought you’d like him, you being a bit of a… y’know homosexual yourself” Rosy went as red as her name upon hearing this, but quickly regathered her calm.

“Yeah, we don’t all share a Whatsapp group. Or TikTok, since that is probably gayer” Rosy replied, trying to hide her offence with humour.

“Shhh… she’s a bit too young to hear the… y’know ‘g’ word” and Rosy bit her tongue. She knew exactly how Alabama would have responded to this. ‘I don’t think just hearing the word ‘gay’ once is gonna send her buggering bitches up the arse with a dildo… Siobhan’, probably. But Rosy wasn’t that person. Her filter was sturdy. She just smiled and laughed lightly. Let Siobhan the accidental bitch be accidentally bitchy.

“By the way Rosy, are you… are you joining me on maternity leave?” Siobhan gestured towards Rosy’s well gestated food baby. Rosy had always been in pristine physical condition so it wasn’t really that unreasonable a mistake to make. And, as if to rub the point in, Siobhan was already back to her skinny pre-pregnancy weight.

“Pregnant?” Rosy replied, shocked. “Ummm… yeah. Pregnant. With a… with a human baby. Just got knocked up and now… I’m incubating”

“Really? That’s amazing Rosy! Cos, the girls, we were beginning to wonder, cos of your age, cos you’re 30 now, right? We were wondering if you weren’t going to bother. Time was ticking and all that. I didn’t want to say anything, it felt rude, but now I know you’ve finally gotten around to having one yourself! Well I’m just so fucking happy for ye. It’s so great. You know, it really completes the human experience”

“Right”

“Yeah, it completes you. It really does. Not in a… brokeback mountain ‘it completes you’, g-a-y way but… anyway… how did you… artificial insemination or?”

“No, just a one-night stand, Siobhan”

“With a man?”

“No, Siobhan”

“No?”

“Nope, her name was… Pandemonium. Do you know her? She’s a goth. You’d love her. Yeah, she got me pregnant, Siobhan”

“And didn’t know girls could get each other pregnant?”

“Of course they can. Happens all the time Siobhan. Happens. All. The. Time. Lesbians, sorry… homosexuals, just mean double the fertility. We get pregnant really easily” Rosy continued to keep a straight face as she said all this while Siobhan listened in shock.

“Well, I didn’t know that. And the doughnuts? Are they a celebration?”

“No, cravings. Pregnancy cravings. I’m just craving… literally bags full of doughnuts”

“That’s an unusual one. That said, I craved bread”

“Bread? I’ve not heard that one before. Although I think I remember reading that bread cravings mean the child will turn out to be… a homosexual”

“Really? You’re saying my daughter might grow up to be a… lady-lover?”

“I mean, it’s what I read. But maybe it’s nothing. Maybe they’ll end up proper and straight” Rosy scythed with sharp deadpan cynicism, while reaching in for another doughnut and without losing eye contact.

“Oh… well I better be off then. I guess. See you… around, I guess” and Siobhan hurried off, looking kinda worried. It put a smile on Rosy’s face, though that smile quickly turned to guilt. She really shouldn’t have lied like that. It was a bad habit to get into. Still, all alone, she could now eat her doughnuts in peace. And all would be steady.

 

It was around 1pm that it became obvious that things were far from steady. Steady as jelly down rapids. Playing buckaroo on the San Andreas fault levels of unsteady. She was tearing shreds off a glazed doughnut with hundreds and thousands atop it, and not for the first time in the past three hours whatsmore, when she suddenly felt an inkling that cheesecake would go well with her doughnuts. It was a weird inkling, one perhaps you might associate with a pregnancy craving even, given that anybody wielding a fully-functioning set of tastebuds would take the contrary stance. Cheesecake is a pleasant meal, make no mistake about it, but it was far removed from being a typical companion the already sucrose-laden treats that were make their way through her digestive system. And this weird inkling slowly trickled, like a faulty faucet, into becoming an urge, then that trickle turned into a flurried desire, before finally settling as a tidal wave of insatiability. Because, for all Rosy’s need to eat doughnuts, she found she needed to eat cheesecake too.

It made no sense. After all, the source of her doughnuts cravings were fairly obvious. As ridiculous as it sounded, it had been generally agreed by Rosy and Alabama that there was some weird Japanese chronicle, and whoever’s name was written within, along with the incriminating food stuff, would see a five hour binge. It was fairly ludicrous, but it had been accepted. But this? A second craving? This was not part of any plan or theory that the two girls had devised when bashing their heads together in thought. Unless...

She picked up her phone. It was time to give her best friend a call.

“Al. I think I’m in trouble here. I’ve got two hours to go before my big meeting with Jack Gielgud, two hours before my doughnut desire passes and… I think someone’s written my name in that book again. A second time. I think somebody’s making me crave cheesecakes. Wait… are you laughing Al?”

“Oh girl, yeah. I’m laughing. That’s so funny. You have two cravings? At once? Running simultaneously? Oh girl, you’re really up the shitter without a spank paddle. I’ll sort out Jack for ye, don’t worry about that. You just work out how you can eat enough cheesecake and enough doughnuts at the same time” Alabama laughed back.

“Thanks Al. For the favour that is, not for the clearly absent moral support. You know, it’s weird, but it’s happened two hours after I met… sorry, give me a sec, I’ve got me mouth full… two hours after I bumped into Siobhan”

“Pregnant Siobhan?”

“Formerly pregnant Siobhan. Now new mother Siobhan”

“Oh, I hate Siobhan”

“Same”

“Please tell me she got fat”

“No, sorry”

“Not even a little bit? She was pregnant. It’s common courtesy for pregnant women to get pleasantly enplumpened”

“Not even a little bit. No, she wasn’t the pregnant looking one”

Rosy paused to hear Alabama stopped in her tracks at this cryptic comment.

“Care to elaborate, girl?”

“She thought I was pregnant”

“Oh my god, classic Siobhan, the accidental bitch. How did you respond to that?”

“I told her I was. Then I told her that her kid was gay. It was fun”

“You did what? Oh, I didn’t know you had it in you to lie so well”

“But the thing is.. woah, hold on… just buying these cheesecakes at the minute… and eating a doughnut… I do kinda feel guilty. But she was asking for it. Anyway, how are you, back at base?”

“Fine. No message from Matilda. I hate the silent treatment. There is nothing that can’t be fixed by communication. I am so dreading leaving the office and dealing with the aftermath tonight. Oh, and I found out from Trinners that this Japanese notebook really was stolen. So, doesn’t look like it was Matilda behind this. Unless she really is cunning. Actually, she’s easily cunning enough to steal it, to divert attention elsewhere. Wait? Hang on girl… when did you start getting your cravings?”

“Umm… about 10 minutes ago… sorry, I just… oh fuck, that cheesecake tastes good”

“So, it takes two hours for it to kick in...”

“So, around 11-ish. So that was when Siobhan left. You don’t think she’s not as accidental a bitch as we thought, do ye?”

“Maybe. Though, is she smart enough to be that duplicitous. Plus, scheming and being a mother is some impressive multi-tasking. No, I asked because Matty takes her lunch break at 11am. Well, her first lunch break anyway. One of three, if you must know. And you had cravings at around 1pm yesterday too”

“So, Matty is now prime suspect. Ahead of Ianto, ahead of Jack Gielgud? Ahead of you?” Rosy added the last one for some light hearted teasing.

“Great. I am really not looking forward to tonight with Matty. I’ve got to accuse her sabotaging the woman I sabotaged my relationship with her with. Or something. Does that even make sense? Anyway, I’ve got to distract Jack Gielgud to get you out of jail, again. So, see you post cheesecake binge”

And without even waiting for an answer, she hung up on Rosy. But Rosy wasn’t offended since she had been friends with the endearingly abrupt Alabama for many years now. When they first met at EatWell over four years ago, each in relatively lowly administrative management roles, it was one of the first things that Rosy noticed about her. It wasn’t an instantly endearing trait, but grew to be part of what Rosy always liked about Alabama in the passing years. And the other reason Rosy was happy for the call to end was her hunger was causing such pain that she was practically keeling over.

Back at the bench where she’d bumped into her former colleague Siobhan the accidental bitch, she could remedy all of that. She sat down, to her pained relief and then took out all the food that she had self-scanned at the nearby Tesco and was free to feast once more.

First came the cheesecake. She ripped it from its cardboard constraints, paying no mind towards littering and recycling the cardboard that went flying as she tore through it to her prize. A whole own label plain vanilla cheesecake. She didn’t care to delicately cut slices off and daintily place them in her mouth in such a ladylike manner. She was more like a pack animal, ravaging it. Quarter of the way through, however, and she pivoted back to placating the doughnut-induced pain that she had previously had a handle on. Taking multiple deep bites until her fingers were again just sugar. But she couldn’t rest, or even pause for breath, because whilst the pain from her desire for doughnuts dimmed, the cheesecake one sparked up once more. And so she was back with inelegant hunger, holding the entire cheesecake and biting chunks from it like were a sandwich. Another quarter and back to the doughnuts.

It took only 8 minutes to clear the entire cheesecake and the corresponding four doughnuts. A ridiculous rate of unabashed gluttony, made further worse that this was a pace that she would have to sustain for at least two further hours. And then three after that of just more cheesecake. It was going to be a long afternoon, and an expensive one too. That new payrise of hers was going to come in very handy.

And what would most the passing by people of fair Dublin thought to see a pretty and ostensibly slender girl gorge like this on a park bench? A girl in a nice summer dress with red hair and cute freckles alternating between eating disgusting amounts of doughnut and disgusting amounts of cheesecake. The sweetest girl eating the most sugary food. And if they weren’t passing, if they took time out from whatever they were doing to simply observe her, the sight would shock them more. It was the unending nature of it, the patient probing of each dish until it was time to ready the next one, turning cheesecakes to crumbs and doughnuts to dust each time. And the smears and stains on her face getting more pronounced as she ran the gauntlet from hand to bag and from bag to mouth and back again, each instance running the risk of further spillages and stains.

By 2pm, she needed another sprint to the supermarket to replenish supplies. More cheesecakes, whole, but in different flavours to stem the ennui. More doughnuts, though not for much longer, just enough to withstand another hour of their indulgence. Straight to the self-scanning section, because she didn’t want to be confronted by someone on the tills whilst buying this veritable ode to diabetes. So she scanned these various items herself, still getting perplexed looks and disgusted reactions from other customers, but it meant that she didn’t have to confront anybody directly at least. She needed the path of least resistance at this point.

Until her debit card didn’t work. It must have been rejected. Thankfully she had a credit card with her and could put it on that. But she made a note to herself to call the bank, it seemed like they had suspended her card due to suspicious purchasing activity. And it was pretty suspicious, and she didn’t look forward to explaining to them that it wasn’t fraud, it was just hunger. She also made a note to pay of her credit card, she didn’t want to accrue interest on her doughnut and cheesecake debt.

Once 3pm arrived, Rosy breathed a sigh of relief. The pace was less frenetic as the desire for doughnuts evaporated like a warm breath in cold air. It wasn’t like she wasn’t still continuously eating, steadily munching on artery-thickening food while staring off absent-mindedly into the distance, but rather that she didn’t have to eat with such a hurry. Not having to juggle two cravings at once. It was nice. It was less exhausting. Rosy was utterly drained after five consecutive hours of it, and three of them at a pace she would previously had considered impossible. Just a couple of hours of constantly scooping cheesecake into her seemed like a calorific relief at this point.

By 5pm, she finished off her final cheesecake and sighed. And the sustained barrage left her war-torn and calorie-stricken. Everything was messy, everything was sticky, everything was stained. Hair clumped together by strands of cream cheese, sugar circling her mouth like the rings of Saturn, providing velcro for the cheesecake base to stick to. Unable to wipe her hands anywhere else, she had settled on rubbing them on her dress, leaving tear stains of grease on them in a most undignified way. And that wasn’t the only issue that had befallen her dress, her food baby, no more akin to a sideways camel’s hump of distended agony and excessive contents.

And the great agony that it caused made her long walk back to the office a slow and steady one, her posture made elderly as she cradled her pained gut. In her famously large handbag, easy enough to fit in A4 pads of paper and such like, she took the cheesecakes and doughnuts that she didn’t need in the end, back to Alabama as a thank you for all she had done. She had no idea how Alabama had convinced Jack Gielgud to reconvene the planned meeting that she had with him, but a few remaining packets of doughnuts and a couple of cheesecakes was the minimal reimbursement really. Plus, they would make a decent ‘sorry’ gift to Matilda from Al, given Matilda’s sweet tooth. And her savoury tooth. And just her appetite generally.

She stopped in a cafe’s toilets and tried to clean herself up as best she could. A lot of water and a bit of make-up, to repair the damage inflicted. She didn’t look as good as new, but she looked a lot better than before. Damage limitation after an afternoon of discovering that fullness is just a state of mind.

She walked into the office, wary that eyes were on her. Even spruced up a little, she couldn’t fix the distended stomach that she had, pressing against her dress’ inhibiting material in a way that felt as uncomfortable as it looked. She walked quickly and unobtrusively to Alabama’s desk and sat down, grateful for the office partitions to allow her a sliver of discretion.

“Jesus, I need to sit down. That was a long walk and my feet are aching” Rosy exhaled as she placed her bum on a swivelly office chair to the side of her good friend and one-time fling.

“Fuck girl, you even talk like a pregnant woman. Siobhan the accidental bitch was right about you. Come on girl, take a load off your feet. I guess you’ve had a stressful day” Alabama said with a sarcastic smile, but Rosy seemed grateful anyway.

“It has been a stressful day, thanks. You don’t know what it’s like getting fat against your will. It’s tough, Al. And tiring.”

“But hot though”

“Coming from a girl as inclined as you, I’m not sure that’s the compliment you think it is” Rosy replied, and they both snickered.

“I’m just glad you’re okay Rosy”

“Ahh, shit Al. Why did you let me do that? Why did you let me make it all about me? How are you? Has Matilda replied to any of your messages yet, or are you still getting the silent treatment?” Rosy asked, and Alabama’s face sunk.

“No. Heard nothing from her. Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?”

“Fiiiiine. But just cos I’m a good friend. Okay, we’ll talk about how much I ate, cos I know that’ll cheer you up” Rosy said, and indeed Alabama’s face lit up.

“So what was it like, two cravings at once?”

“Tiring. My jaws tired. My back aches from leaning into a carrier bag as often as I did and opening another pack of doughnuts. All these stomach exercise, the crunches as I reach in for more food, I half-expect abs”

“You look great”

“Ouch”

“No, seriously, you look great Rosy. It looks cute on your diddy frame. Like, how are you single, girl?”

“Thanks, Al. It’s nice to hear that. And as much as I always like it when you flirt with me, maybe not today of all days...”

“I wasn’t flirting. Why are you single?”

“Oh, stop it Al”

“No, tell me. Cos...”

“You know why...”

“No. I really don’t”

“Don’t make me say”

“Say. What?”

“That I like you, Al. I like you. And that’s why I’ve felt guilty ever since. Because I don’t want to be the person that ruins relationships, but I do want you. And I hate myself for it. You have no idea how much I hate myself for it. How angry I get every time I look in the mirror, for what I’ve done, for what I want. For trying to do the right thing and be a good person, but continuously worrying that I’m not, that I’m always being selfish. And I’m so tired of it. Like, exhausted. I just don’t want it any more. I like you Al, how can I not? But I am not ruining your relationship with Matilda. I’m sorry if you had me down as plan b, but...”

And Rosy started crying, and Alabama looked around to see a decent number of the staff were listening in on the conversation, causing Rosy to stifle her tears awkwardly and walk off.

“No wait… oh come back Rosy” Alabama walked after her, turning back to the ear-wigging Ianto and giving him the universal hand gesture for ‘wanker’. He returned with the universal hand gesture of a raised middle finger oh so very wittily.

Alabama hurried after Rosy, whose emotional departure’s emphasis by the slightly keeled-over waddle of a woman who had enjoyed an over-abundance of gastronomic excess for some of the morning and nearly all the afternoon. Alabama, longer-limbed and lighter-footed, caught up with her fairly quickly as they reached the lift down to the ground floor.

“I’m sorry Al, I shouldn’t have said that” Rosy looked down sullenly at the floor while the lift doors opened.

“Yeah, you can fucking say that again. Of all the days to say that, this wasn’t the one Rosy. Look, you know I like you. I do. But I can’t. I like Matilda. A lot. And I want to be with her. Maybe there’s an alternate universe where we’re together, but it’s not this one. You understand that, don’t you Rosy? You understand that I’m going to fight for my relationship with Matty”

Rosy’s eyes welled up again, and she nodded silently.

“Look Rosy, ye daft bitch, you need to find someone like I did. Someone who’ll be there for you. Somebody who’s not me. Can ye do that for me, Rosy?”

“I’ll try”

“That didn’t sound much like a yes”

Rosy glared at her friend while the lift brought them down. “I’m not gonna lose her, Rosy”

“Well, then use these as a gift for her. It’s some left over doughnuts and cheesecake. That way, I get to apologise to her as well, without her having to know” Rosy handed over the carrier bag of food. Many people would baulk at such a large bag of sucrose infested goodies for anything less than a party, but, for Rosy, it was simply margin for ever. And for Matty, maybe it would be a fitting apology.

“Thanks girl, I mean it. I tell you what, I’ll catch you later” And Alabama walked off back to her place to see if she had a girlfriend waiting for her. And Rosy went back to her place, partly heart-broken and partly exhausted. She needed a good night sleep tonight if she was going to get through the horror of two more days at work.

And it was as Rosy walked home that she realised that Alabama never told her how she got Rosy out of having that catch-up meeting with Jack Gielgud.

 

 

Alabama walked into her apartment tentatively. She could feel the clamminess of her palms as she twisted the door handle to get in. The door was unlocked. Presumably Matilda was back then? Right? Why else would the door be unlocked. And if that was the case, was that good news or bad news? Alabama wanted to be hopeful. She wanted her girlfriend to be there as if nothing had ever happened. Where she could walk in with a smile on her face, a tender kiss to mark her return and then an evening of lying on the couch watching shite television and feeding her more crisps than any human should ever consume. But she also felt a bubbling cauldron of fear at the base of her stomach as the nightmare in her rearview mirror finally caught up with her.

She walked into the kitchen, to see her girlfriend busily bustling about in the kitchen. It gave Alabama hope.

“Hey. You’re back” Alabama said with a hoarse voice.

No response came, not even the acknowledgement of eye contact.

“You cooking?” Alabama asked, beginning to sense the static in the air. There was not warmth emanating from Matilda, but rather a tempestuous bitterness.

Still no response.

“So, you’re not going to say anything? That’s how this is going to be?”

Matilda just picked her plate of food and took it to the kitchen, walking past her with passive-aggression.

“Really? The silent treatment? That’s your response to all this?” it needled Alabama and her need to clear the built-up clack in her soul and in her relationship.

“Yes, you have a problem with that?”

“Oh, so you can talk then? You haven’t lost your voice?”

Matilda went back to silence and sat in front of the television, turning on RTE and watching it with the volume turned right up.

“You going to keep this up for what? All evening? Tomorrow? Come on, you can’t hide behind silence forever Matty!”

“I can if I want” and Matilda started eating her food.

“Oh real mature!” Alabama said with snarling sarcasm.

The two sat down in the living room and pretended to watch the television, but really were spending their attention watching the other pretending to watch the television. The silence lasted for nearly six minutes until Alabama heard Matilda’s fork scrape the bottom of the plate. She used that as her opportunity to pry some conversation out of her.

“You’re eating salad? I thought you hated salad?”

“No I don’t”

“Yeah you do. You hate salad!”

“Well, maybe you don’t know me very well. Who knows what each of us gets up to behind each other’s back?”

Alabama didn’t retaliate, not taking the bait. And so the room fell back into an awkward quiet. But she couldn’t leave it for long, it just wasn’t in Alabama’s nature to let the topic of salad pass.

“No. You hate salad, you told me. You said it tastes like green and green is the worst taste. Those were your words, back when you used to talk that is”

“Yeah, sorry for not telling you everything. I should be an open book like you… oh wait. No you’re not, you’re a liar and it’s not your book that you spread open”

Alabama’s eyes raged at this. She knew she’d done something wrong, she knew she shouldn’t have cheated on Matilda. But this was her response? This petulance? This childishness?

“So, if you hate salad, why are you eating salad?” Alabama said with patronising aggression.

“Because I’m on a diet”

“You’re… you’re not on a diet, Matty”

“Yes I am. And you don’t get a say in the matter. Apparently neither of us get a say in what the other does with their bodies” Matilda replied, her tone never shifting from venomous.

“So this is what… payback? You getting back at me by eating leaves? Is that what this is?”

“No, you…” Matilda sighed. “I gained weight for you. I’ve gained so much weight for you. I sacrificed my body for you. And then you cheat on me with some skinny slut...”

“She’s not a slut, don’t take it out on Rosy!”

“Whatever, but after what you did with her, give me one good reason why I should continue sacrificing my body for you. I’m going to do what I want. I’m going to look after myself. If that’s okay?”

“But...” Alabama said, feeling that distant drum of emotion and vulnerability beat its tattoo beat. “But I brought you doughnuts and cheesecake?”

“Well if you think cheesecake is such a good idea, you eat them then!”

“Matty… you love cheesecake?” Alabama’s voice was getting thinner at the thought of her girlfriend doing the same. Salty water strained at her tear ducts.

“Not really. I don’t actually like it. I just ate it to make you happy, that was all. Now, I’m going to do things that make me happy. And what will make me happy is losing some weight and looking after myself a bit more. I’m not just something you can feed and fuck from time to time. So I’m going on a diet, and if you love me, you actually love me. If you love me, you’ll accept that”

“Of course I will, of course I will. I’ll do anything. Please Matty” Alabama blubbed.

“I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight. Sleep on the couch, we’ll talk about it in the morning”

Alabama nodded weakly to the back of Matilda’s head as she walked away from her and to the bedroom on her own. Alabama could only watch on, with tears dripping from the end of her nose like a leaking faucet.

It took at least ten minutes of Alabama standing still facing a closed door before it truly dawned on her the situation that she had found herself in. Ten minutes frozen stiff and just staring at a door and praying to a god that she didn’t believe in that it would open. But it didn’t open. Alabama had been relegated to the couch.

She sat there and the same thoughts and questions circled in her head. How long had Matty known? How did she find out? And why didn’t she say anything until today? Alabama sat on the sofa stewing on these thoughts to avoid the more obvious questions. Questions like was Matilda ever going to forgive her? Did Alabama want her to forgive her? Could she be with a woman on a diet? Questions she didn’t want to answer.

And, as if taunting her, the bag of doughnuts and cheesecake sat next to her bed, never to be eaten by Matilda. And the thought made Alabama feel sick. Fucking doughnuts and cheesecake. What was she thinking? She leant over to pick them up and throw them in the bin, grabbed them in her hand…

 

 

Two hours later, Alabama was woken from her sugar coma thanks to the sound of vibration on the couch-side table. She shook off the empty doughnut wrappers and the cheesecake tin, and pulled her phone towards her. The room was dark, so the screen lighting up temporarily blinded her. Her eyes didn’t want to open, the warm feel of her slumber railed against her need to stir. Eventually her mobile phone’s screen came into focus. It was a message from Rosy

 

HOPE EVERYTHING WENT OKAY WITH MATTY

JUST LETTING YOU KNOW I’VE BEEN STRUCK AGAIN

PIE THIS TIME

IT’S GOING TO BE A LONG NIGHT

ROSY xx

 

Alabama closed her eyes again and groaned. A hundred and one thoughts flew threw her mind as she groggily stared at a ceiling she couldn’t see in the darkness of the room. While she thought, she grabbed the last uneaten doughnut from the packet and began chewing it, while deciding what to do. Once the doughnut was finished, she reached for her phone to type her reply.

 

PIE? SOUNDS FUN

CAN I COME OVER?

I’VE GOT SOMETHING I WANT TO TEST OUT

ALABAMA xx

ALABAMA

 

 

 

And she grabbed her stuff, put on a coat and snook out of her flat to find her friend. It was just gone midnight, so, if the five hour rule holds, she’ll be back by 5am, before Matty knows she’s gone.

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The story should start picking up now. And you can start guessing who you think is behind this mysterious fattening

 

Chapter 5


 

Alabama tip-toed into the kitchen and opened the drawers under the sink, and pulled out the ‘bags for life’ that she and Matilda had accumulated over the years. And given the amount that Matilda had eaten in the years that they had been together, that was quite a lot. These bags had been filled to the brim so often in an attempt to keep Matilda filled to the brim also, with the sweet fare like cheesecakes and doughnuts that she adored. They’d carried cream cakes and sponge cakes and packs of those little chocolate cake bars. They’d been filled with Haribo – Tangfastic to be precise – and they’d been filled with jelly beans, with flapjack and with shortbread. But soon they’d be filled with pie. She crept out the flat, closing the door carefully and quietly behind her, and out to see her best friend. All on the down low, sneaky and surreptitious, so as not to awake her girlfriend with her libidinous machinations.



*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


 

I’m coming” Rosy said through crumbs as she walked to her door, answer the cheery sing-song ding-dong that the bell made. It was just typical of Rosy to have a doorbell when everyone else on her street would just rely on the familiar rapping of knuckles on wood. Rosy was the kind of romanticist who loved all things nostalgic and retro, and she made every effort to express that in her clothing choice and her decor. Black and sleek furniture, art deco wallpaper that ran through the house. All you needed was a murder most terrible and you had yourself the set of a Hercule Poirot mystery.

Hey Rosy, I’ve got some reinforcements here for ye” Alabama said with a smile, lifting up the bags of produce that she had bought, albeit with some difficulty courtesy of their weight.

Oh, you’re an absolute treasure, Al. Thanks for that, I was beginning to run low. Pie is such a weirdly specific… lemme just have another bite… pie is such a weirdly specific food choice” Rosy spat flakey pastry crumbs out as she spoke. It didn't seem in keeping with the glamorous way she had designed the lounge area that we had found herself in. A dark-leather sofa, a stylish, swirling black and white rug, an actual grandfather clock. All designed by someone who had clearly been in a coma since the 1920's.

Well, maybe not… I wanna try something tonight if that’s okay?”

Oooo, mysterious! I like it already” Rosy said with a big grin. “Oh, I forgot to ask, how are you and Matty doing? Oh, and sit down here Al, I’ve made room for ye. Sorry about the food wrappers. I've been sort of caught up in one of my hunger bouts”

You never have to apologise to me for over-eating” Alabama tested the waters with a sneaky grin. “But yeah, me and Matty, we’re great. Back to normal, like it never happened”

Oh my god Al! That’s fantastic news! I was so worried”

No, it’s fine. It’s just water under the bridge and all that. She didn’t even mind me coming round here to help you out”

Oh good, cos I need helping out Al. I’ve been eating pie for nearly an hour and I’m bored of it already. You said you had something you wanted to try?” Rosy looked pleadingly at Alabama. Something about her looked different, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Was it the bed hair? Was that what it was that made Al look scruffier than normal? Rosy figured it was just as a result of the unearthly hour, I mean who looks there best at just after 1am, and didn’t really clock onto the faint circle of sugar that encompassed Alabama’s mouth from her night of finishing them doughnuts, or the unusual outline on he crumpled office clothes she'd been sleeping in of a food baby.

Rosy couldn’t really talk. Not looking like she did. Still in her nightie, which, at nearly 1am, was not an unreasonable item of clothing to be found wearing, she looked every bit the victim of a feeding curse. The nightie was loose. Or, rather, it had been loose, back when she bought it. A week ago. It’s white frilly decoration ran down her like shower curtains, and she wore it like an old boyfriend’s oversized t-shirt. It was never a long nightie, even on a girl as short as the 5ft1 vixen, leaving plenty of her thin legs on display since she had always considered them her best feature. But with her own food baby, jutting out like a rounded rock formation, the nightie was not nearly so flattering. Sat down as she was, with wrappers and plates around her, her stomach was launched forwards until you could see the swell of it against the material. Not only did it press against the nightie, sat down as she was, it got caught underneath the nightie also, snagged in the gap between the underside of her stomach and the top of her thigh, to really frame the bulging belly. Additionally, this spent material meant that the legs that would traditionally be on some display were now in full view of Alabama, almost revealing body parts that Alabama hadn’t encountered since that fateful New Years Day. And the whole image made Alabama’s breath stutter.

Yeah, I have an experiment for you girl. Do you wanna eat this?” Alabama said whilst holding out an apple pie. Alabama suspected that pie had meant flakey pastry with a meat and gravy filling, and the pie cases and the smell of the flat and the quiet hum of the oven told her that she had been right. Steak and ale pie. Chicken and mushroom pie. Leek and potato pie. Chicken and broccoli pie. Rosy had been busy. But the test was to see how specific indeed was the pie requirement? What definition of pie was this dEATh note book using?

Yeah, actually. I think that would be good” Rosy said, relying on some incomprehensible subconscious instinct that told her that it would also qualify as being just the ticket, before grabbing the miniature apple pie that Alabama had brought with her and then ploughing through it with haste. The remaining five in the packet disappeared in a similar rapid manner, leaving next to little crumbs as just a sprinkling of ashes.

So, I think we have proof that we can be a little more liberal with our definition of pie. How about we see how liberal it goes” Alabama said, emptying her carrier bags on the floor. Out came key lime pie, pork pies, shepherd’s pie, cottage pie, and even pizza. Rosy smiled as they set about their little experiment.


 

We can chart this one up as a success also, this tastes so fucking good, Al” Rosy said through her full mouth as she dug into her family sized shepherd’s pie, brown minced beef and potato rolling round her mouth like balls in a raffle drum.

Great news. I think we’re four for four” Alabama said, ticking this one on the list also. It transpired that ancient Japanese notebooks with strange mystic powers were fairly laissez-faire with their definitions.

So then, what did Matilda actually say then?” Rosy said with curiosity.

About what?”

About… you know, finding out about that night? Us?”

Oh, not a lot really. Just that it was in the past, and it shouldn’t affect our future. It wasn’t really a big deal”

Awww, that’s really sweet. You’ve got yourself a keeper there Al, you really do. Most would have hit the ceiling at that” Rosy said, and Alabama smiled weakly in reciprocation, with her eye contact less fixed than normal and her posture not as firm.

Yeah, I do. I really do”

So, did she tell you about how she found out? Or anything?”

No. And I didn’t think to ask. I’ve got no idea how she would know about us though. I mean, we’re the only ones who knew, right? You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

God no. Told no-one. Maybe she saw us?”

No, she was in Tokyo at the time, remember? And you didn’t leave anything incriminating behind, I double checked. No, I’ve literally got no idea how she found out about it” Alabama said, thoughtfully. “I’m going to have to ask her, I need to know”

I wouldn’t. If I was you, that is. I know she’s okay with it and whatever, but it might still be a bit of a sore subject. I’d just let it go, if I were you”

Yeah, fair enough. You’ve always got my best interests at heart” Alabama sighed. Then the timer in the kitchen went off with a shrill trill. “Oh, that’ll be the fish pie. You nearly done with this shepherd’s pie yet because you've another course coming your way?”

I’m only halfway, give me another couple of minutes, would ye? I mean, I know I eat like a woman possessed, but I don’t eat like two women possessed, ye know”

Alabama went and got the fish pie out of the over, with its creamy filling containing peas and prawns and yellow haddock and white fish, all smeared with a top layer of mashed potato and garnished with cheese that had melted deep into the potato topping to lend it the richness it otherwise lacked, while Rosy ploughed through the shepherd’s pie hurriedly to make room for the next dish. It was still not even 2am and they would have over three more hours of this.

Anyway” Rosy shouted while Alabama was in the kitchen. “How did you placate Jack Gielgud? I’m so grateful for that, by the way”

You don’t want to know” came the call back from the kitchen.

Au contraire, mon ami, I’d looove to know” Rosy replied with a giggle.

I sucked his dick”

Rosy burst out into laughter as Alabama brought in the fish pie for Rosy who was getting more and more covered in her late night gastronomic exertions.

Fine, don’t tell me then, you sarcastic fucker. Though that would be some pretty funny office gossip if true” Rosy laughed, still amused by the thought.

Oh, talking of office gossip. God, I can’t believe I didn’t mention this earlier… did you know Ianto is having an affair? He’s cheating on Jilly?”

Oh poor Jilly! She's such a lovely girl! Does she know?”

No, not as far as I know. I mean, I only found out when I caught him yesterday going… ahem… down on Tanni, you know, the temp girl.”

What!? No fucking way!”

Yeah, cheeky fecker. I heard them in the printer room”

On our floor?”

No, the one near Digital on the top floor”

Oh, that is usually quite an out-the-way printer room. If I was going to have a covert affair in one of the printer rooms in our offices, that would probably be the one I'd choose. Or the one near the meeting rooms on the other side”

"Yeah, that's a good shout for a quiet printing room"

"Thanks"

And anyway, I walked past back from Gielgud's and I swear to god, he was down on her like he’d been fasting and she was ice-cream. It was so gross and unsubtle, like a really bad porno or something. And he couldn’t see me standing in the doorway… obviously… but Tanni.... fuck, she just looked at me as I saw them and made like proper eye-contact, and just put her finger to her lips to signal ‘shhhh’. Can ye fucking believe it? Absolutely not one iota of shame between them. And I always thought she was sweet but I swear to god it was so fucking creepy. I half-expected her head to spin around and her say in an Exorcist voice ‘fuck me, Jesus’… though I guess that would be redundant, given that he was going at her hammer and tongue. Tongue, geddit?”

"No?"

"Well, rest assured it was very funny"

You know, I never thought Tammy was the type, she always seemed so nice. I've never seen her get angry or upset with anyone. And she has such pretty eyes. But I always knew that Ianto was a bastard, though. You know how bad he makes me feel about getting that promotion over him? Saying how he needed the money and everything. For his family. And I feel really guilty cos I’m worried it’s going to put a strain on his relationship with poor Jilly, who is the just nicest woman in the world. Like makes-Jesus-look-bad levels of nice. And you’re telling me he’s fucking Tammy from the office! He is such a two-faced bastard. Humans! God, they’re despicable lying cunts at times”

A bit harsh”

No it’s not, he’s an arsehole”

Yeah, I meant the bit where you implied all humans, including me, were a lying cunt” Alabama explained.

Oh, sorry about that” Rosy said weakly.

Though, you do have a point. I bet Matilda thinks I’m a despicable lying cunt”

I thought you said you two were good?”

We are. But still… I’m a lying cunt. It’s only fair if she thinks it”

Oh Al...” Rosy wrapped her arms around Alabama in an endearing hug. “I think you’re a lovely cunt”

You know, that’s really sweet. But it would have been even more touching if you’d have said it with your mouth closed and not eating your ever-increasing body weight in food that ends in the word ‘pie’. Anyway, did you say Tammy earlier?”

Yeah, the temp?”

You know her name is Tanni, right? Not Tammy. With an ‘n’. Tanni”

Oh shit. I’ve been calling her the wrong thing ever since she’s been here then. Oh, she must think I’m such an arsehole. Why didn’t she ever correct me?”

Oh girl, you’ve been calling her the wrong thing all this time? Fuck, that’s some bad karma… Posey”

Rosy laughed at that.

Yeah, I deserve that, Al. You don’t think she could be a suspect do you?”

For getting her name wrong? I think that’s a push. I once called my ex-girlfriend Janet for six months before she worked up the courage to tell me it was Janice. And she didn't put an ancient Japanese curse on me. Though she did throw a brick through my window when we split up, come to think of it”

And I do keep walking into her. Tanni that is, not your psycho ex-girlfriend Janet..."

"Janet..."

"Whatever. But 
Tanni, as we were talking about, have you noticed how she’s always carrying notebooks and things around with her. Like, when I bumped into her those times, one of those could easily have been that dEATh note book”

It's a theory, I'll grant ye that. Still, it would take a special type of arsehole to avenge something as petty as that. And, apart from when she channelled that creepy woman from Shutter Island back then, she’s always seemed so nice”

True. True. What about her and Ianto, in on it together maybe? She’s got the smarts, he’s got the levels of dickishness, they both have a grudge? Maybe they're all in on it together, like in Murder on the Orient Express where it turned out everyone was in on it”

"Thanks for the spoiler warning, I've never watched that movie"

"Oh. Sorry"

Alabama paused before answering, her mind whirring. “Fuck, I think that might just work. I think we have a new number one suspect. Fuck, Tanni and Ianto, arseholes united… what a scary thought. By the way, how’s the fish pie”

Oh Al, it’s so good. Sooo good. I swear it tastes better than sex feels”

Then you’ve had bad sex, girl”

Oooo, a self-burn. Those are rare” Rosy said with a flashed smile.

Yeah, I forgotten I was one of those ‘bad sexes’, ye cheeky fecker”


 

The stomach pains weren’t as pronounced by the time 4am came around. They were still all-consuming, as was Rosy, but they gave her time to breathe a bit more and talk a bit more to Alabama. The night had now receded into its darkness and the first rays of morning were rippling through the sky. The tell-tale signs of birds stirring all signalled that morning was breaking, and it all stood as a reminder that the pie-based onslaught was nearing its tail-end.

Jesus, how am I still hungry?” Rosy whined as she picked up another pork pie in her hand and began eating it like an apple. “I feel like I’m single-handedly causing famine and world-hunger just by eating all the food. All. The. Food”

All the food, except pizza, remember?” Alabama corrected, as she shovelled a slice into her mouth. Of all the ‘pies’ that the girls had tried over the course of that night, and all of their stretched and strained definitions of what might possibly constitute a pie, it was only the pizza that Alabama had brought that didn’t meet it. She'd shown Rosy who didn't have any over-whelming urge to plant her face into it and eat it like a ninja turtle after Ramadan. So that left Alabama eating it while Rosy was eating pretty much everything else at an almost cartoonish rate.

You know what I don’t get, Al? How come I’m not dead?”

Alabama nearly choked on her last slice when she heard Rosy say that.

What, and I can’t stress this enough, the fuck?”

I mean, like, from over-eating. Like the fat bloke from se7en? He died from over-eating. Didn't he like, burst or something? Why haven’t I? I’ve eaten way way more than any human can possibly cope with, that’s for definite”

Alabama stopped and thought. It was, actually, not that daft a point. After all, the human body must have some sort of upper limit or maximum capacity. Right? Or not. Science was the strong suit of neither of them. But there were all those stories of people drowning from drinking too much water, so what about too much food? Was there a point in which Rosy was risking her life by over-eating, and, if so, how had she not already reached that point?

How many calories do you think you’ve eaten in the past 24 hours?”

No fecking idea. Ummm… let me see… the doughnuts, I was eating a doughnut every 3 minutes or so for five hours. Come on Al, you’re the maths whizz, how much is that?”

Well, five hours is 300 minutes, divided by three is 100 doughnuts”

You are shitting me? I ate 100 doughnuts? Fine, okay, and then cheesecakes were about every 10 minutes. So, is that 30 cheesecakes?”

I’m scared that someone with your mathematical acumen is trusted with EatWell’s finances, but yes, it’s 30”

Working out the pies might be a bit more difficult. But we’ve got the wrappers if you want to add it up. Either way, it’s a crazy amount, Al. I should be dead, I swear”

Maybe it’s mystical Japanese voodoo magic curse magic stuff that’s keeping you alive?” Alabama suggested, as she went around the flat putting in numbers into the calculator on her phone as she picked up the strewn pie wrappers and read their calorie breakdowns.

Ahhh, the old mystical Japanese voodoo magic curse magic stuff. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Tease all you want. This book is clearly doing something unnatural and magic-ky, why would that not extend to stopping you from bursting?” Alabama reasoned, still putting in numbers into her phone, and then throwing the wrappers in a pile.

So, I’m in food purgatory? Shite” Rosy sighed as she began throwing empty cartons toward Alabama to help with the adding up.

No, not in that pile, that pile’s the done pile. You’ll fuck up me system here, girl. And I’m not recounting”

What’s the number up to so far?”

Big. I’ll tell you how big in a minute”

Rosy slumped, treating it like a minor scolding.

So… scores on the doors… drumroll please Rosy Richards”

Rosy began to drum the table with the palms of her fingers to create the sound of a drum roll.

We’ll say about 250 calories for a doughnut, and 100 doughnuts, that’s 25000 calories”

Fuck”

About 1500 calories for a cheesecake, multiplied by 30 is 45000 calories”

Oh you are having a laugh!”

And you’ve had 40000 calories so far, in four hours, so 10000 an hour… we’ll say 50000 by close of day”

Are you sure your numbers are right, they seem a bit on the high side?”

So that’s a grand total of… 120000 calories in 24 hours. So yeah, I think it’s safe to say it’s Japanese witchcraft that’s stopping you from eating yourself to death. Also, with each one, you seem to be eating more, interestingly”

Oh god, I’m going to end up a blimp” Rosy said, deflated. But still eating. An eating future blimp.

Maybe, but you’ll be a pretty blimp” Alabama consoled her, stroking her hair.

Awww, a pretty blimp is the nicest thing anyone’s ever called me”

And you know how much I like pretty blimps”

Rosy didn’t say anything. Just carried on eating at her usual pace, slacking ever so lightly as the relentless pull of the ‘old mystical Japanese voodoo magic curse magic stuff’ gradually weakened its grip. And Alabama just sat awkwardly, quietly closing her eyes in self-criticism at her overly-forward line. Rosy gaining weight, Matty losing weight. It was like her worst nightmare and best dream were happening simultaneously, and that she was morally bound to the nightmare.

Talking of Matty, it was drifting towards 5am and Matilda would be up in an hour or so. With that thought Alabama pulled herself up and wiped the pizza crumbs off her top.

I gotta get gone, girl. Gotta get back for Matty”

You… you said she was fine with you being round here?”

Oh. Oh, she is. Yeah, I just… wanna make her a good hearty breakfast before she goes to work”

You really do have a thing for growing girls. Fair enough, I’ll last this final half hour all on my lonesome. I’ll see you dog-tired tomorrow mor… this morning… I’ll see you at work, anyway” Rosy said as she watched Alabama walk out of her place, and then got back to eating.


 


 


 

It was raining outside. The September skies may have shown daybreak, but they were also showing bleak clouds and dagger-like rain. It pummelled down the entire walk home for Alabama, soaking her through to the bone. Normally she would have been grateful for the walk. A girl with as finely attuned a weight-dar as she couldn’t overlook that she herself had been a little liberal with the eating. A girl who would cede most of everything that she would normally eat to her bigger appetited girl had found herself eating through the night for one reason or the other. This walk should have been the thing that remedied that nagging guilt. But, instead, the rain made it feel like a walk of shame.

And it was. Sort of. Because maybe the guilt wasn’t from a pizza and a couple of doughnuts. It was from the duplicity of her actions. Trapped on the left and right side with her own lies and mixed desires. She had lied to Rosy about Matty’s reaction, and she had covertly fled for the night at Matilda’s deception. She deserved the rain.

She got in and tried her best to dry her hair on a cloth usually reserved for drying washed pots. The only bathroom in Matilda’s place was an en-suite that could only be accessed through the bedroom, so Alabama felt it was best not to risk it. So she stayed in the lounge, wringing her hair dry with a cloth and putting her wet clothes straight into the washer. And with her escapade concealed, she went to sleep for the few minutes there were until Matilda would wake up.

And it was only a few minutes too. Maybe she’d been woken by Alabama moving about, but she was up before her alarm clock at 6am, waddling around barefoot on the cold lino floor. It was the sort of sight and sound that Alabama loved to wake up to, though she felt a little reluctant to enjoy it this time, given her current residence in the relationship doghouse.

If you like, I can do you breakfast?” Alabama asked as she watched her girlfriend look through cupboards.

No, I remember the size of your breakfasts. I’ll do myself an egg on toast instead”

Oh. Okay. What with?”

Nothing, Bam. Salt and pepper maybe. I’m on a diet, stop acting like I’m not, okay? If you want someone to fatten, go over to Rosy and her unending appetite”

I’m sorry”

Yeah, whatever”

Matilda waited for her egg to boil and walked off with her generous hips swaying as they did, leaving Alabama to contemplate her guilt. And for the egg to boil. And the former took longer than the latter. Matilda was changed and ready for work by the time the toast had popped and the egg had boiled. She served it up for herself and sat down with a scowl on her face the entire time. Slowly she ate, putting small morsels into her mouth at a time.

How’s your egg?” Alabama asked, trying, just trying, to connect with Matilda once more.

It’s fine” Matilda replied, with barely a change of expression as she said it. She carried on eating it, slowly putting the fork back to the plate to refuel. It was a gruelling watch for Alabama’s conflicted libido.

Do you want some orange juice? That’s calorie free and good for you?” Alabama then offered.

No, I’m good” Matilda snapped back. And then a long pause once more. And then she threw the plate of egg and toast on the wall. “No. No, I’m not good. I’m fucking shite. I can’t believe you did that to me, Bam. And then to make that joke, like it was all just one big joke to you. Haha, I’m fucking someone behind Matilda’s fat back. And she’ll never know cos she’s too fat. And now I’m eating a fucking egg and it tastes like rations and I’m tired and I had a terrible night sleep because it was the first time I’ve had to sleep in a bed on my own since New Year which was… oh, when you cheated on me. And I’ve only been on a diet for 12 hours and I’m so fucking hungry. So no, I’ll pass on the fucking orange juice!”

I’m sorry Matty. I am. The joke was just me being in denial over it. Like, if I could make light of it then that was the kind of joke I’d make if I wasn’t guilty. And then maybe I’d feel less guilty. Because I do, I feel so bad about it. And it was so stupid of me, like I’ve practically ruined everything. I love you Matty. And I’ll do anything for you. I’ll… I’ll go walking with you, do exercise together. Anything. I mean, I love your size, but I would choose you without your size over not you with your size any day of the week. I love you Mat and I’m sorry I fucked it up” Alabama blurted out, her mouth running faster than her brain could think. “I… I’ll go clear up the mess”

And… while you’re doing that… could you make me some pancakes for breakfast?”

S…sure. I could… how many...”

I dunno, eight? No, best make it 10, I’m hungry, and I get cranky when I’m hungry”

You’re… you’re not dieting?”

No, Bam. Cos here’s the real annoying thing. You’ve made me a fatty. Like, who was I kidding, going on a diet? Me? Have you seen me lately? Do I look like a girl who diets? You’ve got me where you want me, Bam. You can cheat on me and I’ll keep on coming back to you because I’m a fat arse with no will power and I’m punching way above my quite considerable weight with you. So congratulations Bam, you’ve made me too fat to dump you”

No. Just no. Oh Matty, you’re amazing. You can do so much better than me. You’re a genius, you’ve got the most impressive career of anyone I’ve ever met, you’re intelligent, funny…. Anyone would want to be with you. Anyone. I mean it”

Thanks” Matilda said, and offered her first smile since the bust up. “I needed that.”

It’s true. Every word of it”

I believe you. And that’s why I think we should start seeing other people”

Oh”

I’m just fuckin’ with ye. I’m not leaving ye. I’m angry with you though, still. Pissed, even. And we are far from even. But I still love you, no matter how much I wish that wasn’t the case. So make me a proper sized breakfast and let’s keep on keeping on”

Yes ma’am” Alabama said with a smile as she walked to the kitchen to do her girlfriend’s bidding.

Plus, I may have blown up about it yesterday, but I’ve known for months”

Months?” Alabama said as she got the pancake mix out.

Yeah, Rosy confessed like to me like two weeks after it happened”

Did she? Oh. Ummm… breakfast will be ready in 10 minutes but there’s some biscuits left in the tin if you want something in the meantime...”

What about those doughnuts? What happened with them, cos I could go a pack of those my lover”

I actually ate them last night”

Really?”

What? I was sad. I was pity-eating.”

Alabama carried on in the kitchen, but her mind was rattled by the revelation that it was Rosy that had told Matilda. But Rosy had said she hadn’t told anybody. They'd spoken about it and Rosy feigned innocence to her. Rosy had lied to her.

“… for me, Bam”

Sorry, what was that, Matty? I was thinking about something”

I said, get fat for me. I’m tired of this relationship imbalance. I’m tired of worrying I’m not worthy of you and you’re too good for me. So if I can’t get thin, then you can get fat for me. And then we’re even. And I’ll forget about you and Rosy. But ye gotta get fat for me”

 

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Think I'll have this story all wrapped up by chapter 9 or 10, so the revelations are going to come thick and fast. Feel free to do the same

 

Chapter 6

 

 

“Hey you”

Ianto woke up with a smile to see a blonde haired girl next to him with a gentle smile and a crinkled nose. The sun rushed in through the blinds and lit her eyes as they stared longingly at him. She parted her hair with soft hands as she looked at him so very adoringly.

“Hey indeed”

“I was wondering if, before you were up for work, you maybe fancied...” she slowly, breathily drew her body over his, his rugged skin against her silky flesh. Both bodies warm from the duvet covers. With a cheeky smile, she slipped her hand down along his chest, then, slowly, crawling towards his navel. And then beyond, like a spider, along his snail trail and towards his dick. And then her smile crumpled.

“Oh god sorry Jill, give me a sec and I’m sure it’ll...”

“Oh”

“Look, my mind’s just at work still. But I’m sure if you get started it’ll perk up”

Jill harrumphed and yanked her hand back out from beneath the covers, and folded her arms sulkily. Even her bottom lip pouted a little, though Ianto actually found that a little cute.

“But this keeps happening Ianto. I can’t even get my own husband’s dick hard. That’s three nights in a row”

“Look, I told you, I’m sorry but I’m just tired from work…”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. I know how many hours you’ve been putting in at that place. EatWell don’t deserve you. How they didn’t give you the promotion, I’ll never know. You’re their hardest worker there. I’m sorry. I guess, it’s just...”

“It’s just what babe?”

“Do you still find me attractive?”

“Are we really having this conversation at… what is it, 6:30 in the morning?”

“Oh my god! You don’t, do you? You don’t think I’m attractive any more. I know I’m not the young, fit girl you married. It’s cos I’ve put on weight isn’t it?”

“No! You’re fine. Sorry, beautiful...”
“Oh, come on! I’m fat. I’m going grey. And I have crow’s feet like my ma. And I look like I ate the girl I used to be. I mean, look at ye. You only seem to get better as you age. And me? I’m fat and old-looking, and I can’t even get my husband’s dick hard any more”

“No. Don’t say that. It’s not true. I think you’re… you’re...”

“Oh my god, you can’t even say it! You can’t even say you find me attractive”

She turned around in the bed and presented her back to him, her arms still crossed and her eyes giving the blank wall daggers.

All the walls in the place were blank. Ianto insisted. He hated the clutter of such things, busying up the room. He hated framed pictures breaking up the lines of a room, he hated posters and paintings making the place look untidy. Jill had always found that trait of his, his minimalism, quite exotic and cultured. But now, staring at a blank wall and feeling angry and guilty, it just felt blank. Like there was nothing there. How could he not even find the words to say he found her attractive still?

Ianto’s problem was that he didn’t. He just didn’t. He wanted to, he really did. But he didn’t. Not any more. They’d been married 7 years, Jill and he, and he’d been so proud when he saw her waltzing down the aisle to him draped in white and carrying a bouquet. She was better looking than all the girls that his mates had pulled. Her was golden blonde and radiated warmth and glow, sweeping down her back in waves. Her smile, so white and wide and gleaming. Her face so sharp and youthful. Her body, so well tended and cared for. He loved that girl. And all his mates down the golf club were all so jealous.

The problems first started last year when Max from the legal team got with some Brazilian girl, with vivacity and hips and ebony hair. And, suddenly, Ianto’s girlfriend seemed pedestrian. This foreign girl made Ianto’s domestic girl seem dull and lifeless. The Brazilian girl knew how to party and do shots, while Jill knew how to snuggle in and drink warm Chardonnay. And that was when Ianto noticed that Jill was dimming.

Truth be told, he should have noticed before. She’d jokingly complained about her first grey hairs the year previous, but Ianto couldn’t see it in the ocean of sunlit yellow. And she’d made grumbling comments earlier that year about going up a size or two. But he’d never really updated his mental image of her with such thoughts. But when he saw Max with this party-loving South American girl, suddenly it all hit home. Every time she tugged at a too-tight t-shirt, he noticed. Every time she skipped her morning callisthenics for more time in bed, he noticed. Was she drinking wine every night, now? Was she ordering dessert every time she he took her out for a meal. Soon, he started seeing his trophy wife as an atrophying wife.

He’d mentioned it to her. Subtly. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, she was still the same girl that walked down the aisle to him seven years ago with vital eyes and the sexy crinkle of her nose. She was there still, underneath it all. So he suggested they go for runs together. As a way of spending more time together. Max and Adriana did that sort of thing together all the time. They’d get up an hour earlier and go for a nice morning 10k or so. Jill, however, was not a fan of early mornings. So he suggested that maybe they should try out the salad bar one evening on one of those meals out. She told him that he knew she wasn’t a salad girl. He told her that she used to be. And their relationship became strained ever since.

She was lifeless after that. And has been ever since. Her eating habits got worse. Out of stubbornness, retaliation or despair, Ianto never knew. And while Adriana and Max did the Dublin marathon together, Jill stayed in and watched Queer Eye, whilst eating Doritos. When Adriana and Max did their morning aerobics routine, Jill lay in bed, snoring after a night of drinking too much wine and eating too many pretzels. Adriana got a sexy tattoo on her lower back. Jill got fat.

The past year had seen her size 8’s and 10’s become 14’s and 16’s and beyond. Softness became fatness. Chins became double. Ianto would here his friends at the golf club saying ‘how married life clearly suited her’ and how ‘comfy and happy she looked’. And then they’d drool of Adriana and her pertness and her joy. And Ianto would come home to Jill who was three glasses of white wine in before dinner time and only wore joggers around the house these days. That wedding felt a long time ago.

He couldn’t stand the self pity, so he left her to sulk and tried to chirp up his own spirits the only way he knew how. His new hobby, the one that restored vitality to him that had been lacking in Jill. He went to see Tanni. Tanni and her single chin and her lack of snoring and her lack of crow’s feet and grey hair and rolls.

“Oh. Hey Ianto. I wasn’t expecting you” she said as she opened the door in just bra and panties. Jill would never open the door dressed in so little. Though it had been a long time since she had such goods to parade. Ianto didn’t even register that she answered the door dressed like that whilst claiming not to expect him.

“I need you, babe” Ianto said, and his hands went down to her waist and his lips drew to hers. And everything he touched was so firm. That youthful tightness of being a 20 year old girl, that Jill’s 31 years had lost to age and laziness and so much ice cream.

“It’s good to feel needed” she said with a smile, as she undid her belt and zipper and thrust her hand down his boxers. “Wow, you’re pleased to see me!”

“Aren’t I always? Oh god, you feel so good” Ianto said as her bra and his work shirt came off.

“Do you have condoms?” she asked, as his trousers fell to the ground.

“I was thinking we have a go without” and that was when they fell to the floor, him on top and powerful.

“Maybe you should just go down on me then?” she suggested, as they began to explore each other’s bodies like this hadn’t been the routine for the past month.

“Love, I was down on you for about 5 hours yesterday”

“Ok, maybe later then. I’m sure you’ll have built up an appetite for me by then” she said, scrunching up her nose adorably as she said it. It looked so much better on her than it did on Jill. It looked youthful, sexy and virile. Not just goofy, lazy and tired.

“Well, in that case, is bareback okay then?” Ianto asked. And Tanni rolled her eyes in disdain, but nodded her head in invitation. And Ianto didn’t need a second invitation. After all his pent up frustration at home, he wouldn’t take very long at all.

 

As time for work came upon them, they stopped their lying next to each other. The sex was great, electric even, though perhaps more short-lived than it should have been. But just lying with one another, two attractive people enjoying the tauntness of one another’s bodies, they felt a satisfied contentment. One that Ianto never felt at home.

“How’s things with Jill?” Tanni asked as she lay on his chest, her head rising and falling as he took his breaths.

“Shite. They’re shite. She’s just giving up trying now. Trying to look good. Trying to socialise. Trying to diet. Every day she’s a bottle of wine to the good and with food wrappers everywhere. This past month especially. She must spend the entire day just eating ice cream. You know, she’s gained 35lbs this month. Just this month!” Ianto ranted, please to have someone he could talk to.

“Wow, she needs to take more care of herself. Like I do” Tanni teased, letting Ianto’s eye drift along her body once more. She really was everything Jill wasn’t. Or everything Jill was, but now isn’t. Skinny, but not scraggly, with a cute bubble butt and a flat stomach and bite-size breasts. Not like Jill, with a saggy arse, a saggy stomach and saggy breasts. Tanni had deep eyes and rich mahogany hair, Jill had tired eyes and blonde hair that was often matted. Tanni’s face was defined and austere, Jill’s face was bloated and chubby-cheeked. Tanni was right. Jill really did need to take more control of herself like Tanni did.

“She doesn’t tell me how much she weighs now, but it’s 212lbs. That’s 100lbs more than when I married her, 65lbs more than the start of the year, 35lbs more than the start of the fucking month” Ianto grumbled, still annoyed. He blamed Jill for his affair with Tanni. If she’d have tried harder, he wouldn’t be doing this. It was her fault. Not his.

“So, when are ye going to tell her?” Tanni asked.

“Tell her what?”

“You know, that you’re leaving her for me, silly”

“Oh yeah. That”

“You are breaking up with her, right Ianto? Cos I love you, my big man”

Ianto looked Tanni up and down once more. Some bright-eyed Trinity College history drop-out with a pert arse and a sultry smile. There was so much to like. If anything, she was prettier than Max’s Adriana. Younger too. All his mates at the golf course would be jealous to know he was banging Tanni. They’d all say they don’t know how he put up with Jill for so long. After what she was doing to herself. Courtney might complain, they only met each other through Jill, who Courtney had known since their school days. And Bazza was loyal to Courtney and probably follow suit. But Max would be annoyed. One-upped. That would feel good. And Johnny boy would be blown away. His girl, Shannon, was better looking than Jill, but she was going the same way. Fading, like wallpaper left in the sun. Oh, he’d be the talk of the office, talk of the golf club. He’d take her everywhere, introduce her to all of them. They’d shake her bony little hand, eye her bony little body and admire the upgrade. Yeah, maybe he did love Tanni after all. Maybe he did want to be with her instead.

“Yes, of course. I… I love… you”

“Awwww, that’s the first time you’ve actually said that to me, big man. And you’ll leave Jill. And tell her about me?”

“Oh. Yeah. Um. Of course I’ll break up with her. I’m just waiting for the right moment, you know?”

“Text her now. No time like the present. Text her now and say ye need to talk. Tonight. And then tell her then. Cos, if you don’t. I will tell her. I’ll tell her everything and then she can leave you instead of you leaving her” Tanni said, in a way that made it sound almost sexy. Threateningly sexy.

“Fine” Ianto said with a roll of the eyes.

 

WE NEED TO TALK. TONIGHT. WHEN I GET HOME. ABOUT OUR RELATIONSHIP MARRIAGE. X

 

“A kiss on the end?” Tanni asked.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not a monster”

Well that’s good to know. Aaaanyway, so then, now that’s over, how do ye fancy maybe… being a bit late for work?” Tanni said, reaching down to find Ianto already erect dick once more.

“Fuck it, why not?” Ianto replied with a smile.

“Just give me a sec first. You’ve reminded me I’ve got something to do first”

 

 

Jill was going for a jog. As she had done every morning for the past six weeks. Being a stay at home wife sounded like a great idea at first for this very reason. A chance to exercise, stay fit, keep thin. Somewhere along the line, it stopped being that. When you do nothing else all day, it’s hard to summon the energy to do anything. Jogging stopped years ago, 80lbs ago.

And the change in difficulty since then was, like her, enormous. It was like doing her exercise with dumbbells strapped to her. Dizziness drew upon her like a lion upon its prey; her legs felt fatigue, not exhaustion but rather the feeling that there’s no power in them to continue; she sweated and everything she wore stuck to her more tightly than ever before. Even at the slower pace, a pace so slow that she didn’t dare bring her phone for fear of being Runkeeper-ed and humiliated by the deterioration, it bludgeoned her innards to pulp. It had been a really tough 500m. And, most certainly, time to turn around and come back.

She wanted to prove herself, to herself and to Ianto that she hadn’t let herself go. That she was still in control, still had sovereignty over her own body and desires. But her body rebelled against her every time, warring with her every step of the way. Just being was getting exhausting these days. Every mirror or glass reflection was a middle finger. Every image felt like a taunt as to how a girl so pretty, so trim, could duffle up so bloatedly. It’s so alienating to not even recognise your own body. No wonder Ianto was losing interest in her. And she couldn’t even run the pounds off. Not with her daily binges.

On the walk back, she didn’t even run back any more due to the incline, she passed a Spar and resigned herself to popping in. Dejectedly, defeatedly, she waddled to the wine section to get her daily bottle. Actually, make that two bottles, she just knew today was going to be a two bottle kinda day. Then, on the way to the till, she passed the ice cream section. She closed her eyes and exhaled. She didn’t want ice cream. She didn’t. She didn’t even like the stuff. Never had. It was the texture that she didn’t like, the ice granules mixed with the creaminess of it. And yet. And yet.

It was buy-one-get-one-free on 1L tubs of ice-cream. Such an offer was a lifesaver for her. Because, just before 11am, without fail, her defences crashed to the floor and she just ended up bingeing herself to smithereens for hour after hour. Until around 4pm, where she then had to tidy up the mess as well as she possibly could just so Ianto didn’t finally reach his limit and leave her. So buy-one-get-one-free on 1L tubs of ice-cream it was. So she bought 16. That way, she got 16 free. She also picked up 3-for-2’s for variety and make her way to the till with a trolley full of food and a heart full of shame. Why did she have such little self-control? The person at the till, and they all recognised her now, they just look at her in shame and pity and sadness. Like she was a lost cause. Maybe she was.

Once she got home, sweating from carrying so much stuff, she saw her phone. A message from Ianto? It was enough to put a spring back in her step. She never got messages from Ianto during the day! He was always so busy, she was always relegated so far to the back of his mind, that he never messaged her. She waddled over to her phone with a rare smile on her face. It was a smile that dissipated quickly. She could read between the lines. She knew what the message meant. She knew that this was the end of the road with her husband of seven years. It felt a long time coming. Maybe she should go back to the shop. Maybe today was a three bottles of wine kind of day. She cracked open the first tub of ice-cream and gingerly made inroads into it with self-loathing and despair.

Come 11am and it had begun in earnest. Poor Jill was headfirst in ice-cream once more. Despite not being able to stand the stuff, and she hated the stuff more than ever now after weeks of too much of it, she always relented and fell foul of its insatiable pull. And it always started off so bad. So cold. So bad for her sensitive teeth. Over time, as the day progressed, the ice-cream would melt and she’d be able to eat it quicker and less painfully. But that initial 30-40 minutes was such a nightmare each time. That time before she could drink it.

And ice-cream wasn’t the only thing she was drinking. Hell, by 11am, she was already tipsy, and by midday she was fully drunk. Her threshold had withered along with all other causes for pride that she had previously held, meaning it didn’t take her very long to get to her inebriated destination these days. So, between the wine and the ice-cream, there was barely any time that something wasn’t sloshing down her throat, drowning herself in anything harmful that she could find. And by 1am, and bottle number three, it was only her hunger that was keeping her cognisant. Today was not going to be a day that she spent on the rails, the allure of going off them was simply too great.

She was pouring ice cream pints down her throat with abandon once they had all fully melted. Sure, some of it trickled down her mouth, running down her chins and onto the running gear that barely contained her, but vats of it went down her neck. Back when she first started eating like this, with depraved abandon, it hurt her stomach so much. Like she was waging a war against it, on the beaches and on the landing grounds, and never surrendering. It hurt so much that it made her cry from the physical pain of it. But, over time, she adjusted. She learnt to cope. She adapted. It never stopped being painful, but it slowly stopped being unbearable. And this was despite her eating more each time, the upward escalation towards an unreachable infinity of grotesque gorging, spiralling out of control in dangerous and dizzying ways. And now?

And now, at nearly 4pm, she finally slowed down. With breaths as deep as her coated lungs could take, she reoriented herself and came to. Her temporary, self-destructive psychosis slowly drained from her and she was left to stare at the damage she had done to herself. And everywhere she looked were ice-cream containers. And normally, she would be rushing around the flat in a panic, picking them up and driving to the tip to recycle them. Normally she would be rushing to get all evidence removed before Ianto got back. But she was too drunk now, far too drunk to drive. And besides, what was the point? What was the point if Ianto was going to leave her and she was too fat to even take off her wedding band?

 

In the meantime, Ianto’s appetite had also returned, it seemed. They had chosen their trusty, secret printer room for their sexual liaison, and he was insatiable with his tongue downstairs while Tanni sat on the table in there and leant back in pleasure. He had been down there for hours, not even letting up for a toilet break, and Tanni, as ever, was having a hard time not turning into a sprinkler system of orgasmic pleasure on her partner in crime. The grunts and groans of pleasure were their only company as she contorted hips and shoulders in a state of hedonistic elysium.

It was only by 4pm that Ianto finally released her from the helter-skelter of back-to-back, wall-to-wall pleasure. They just paused for quite a while afterwards as they got their breath back and marvelled at the fun that they had both managed to have. Ianto didn’t know what had gotten into him, but Tanni was pretty sure what had gotten into her… namely him. And so the respite was a welcome one, and the warm air evaporated at last after so much physical exertion.

So, that good?” Ianto asked, with a smug smile that indicated that he certainly thought so.

“Yeah, not bad” Tanni agreed with a smug smile of her own.

“Still, I better go. I’m getting behind on my work and I’ve not given up on that promotion yet”

“But didn’t it go to that Rosy girl. Cheeky fecker never gets my name right, by the way. Daft bitch”

Yeah, Rosy’s got the job. But Rosy’s unstable, trust me, I’d know. And when she collapses like a house of cards, I need to be able to pick up the pieces. The job will be mine. So I’m gonna have to love ye and leave ye I’m afraid” Ianto kissed her as he began to walk out.

“Rosy’s unstable?”

“Yeah. Have you not noticed the past week? She’s been eating like crazy, for like, hours at a time, when she should be working. Surely you’ve noticed that she’s put on some serious weight the past week?”

“Like, five hours at a time?”

“Yeah, maybe. I dunno. It’s her not handling the pressure. Fucking bitch, stealing my promotion from me. Plus, her and Alabama aren’t talking, and Al’s about the only thing that keeps Rosy sane. Anyway, I gotta get going so I’ll see you around my love” Ianto leant in for another kiss and walked off.

And Tanni leaned back in satisfaction. Life was just so much fun right now. And all it was doing was getting more and more so. And to that end, she reached behind her to her paperwork that she carried around with her, and, from within it, pulled out a book. It was dark and leathery on the outside, worn and aged. And on the front, it said dEATh note on it.

She peeled through the pages with her long nails until she got to the page that she was on. The most recent page only had two entries on it. The first one was

 

Jill Jones – Ice Cream

 

It stood there in blue ink, clear as can be. It had been an entry that had seen a lot of use for a good six weeks now, and she never tired of writing it. Sometimes she wish Ianto would talk about her less, and synapses of jealousy would activate. But, other times, she wanted to hear her handiwork. To know what a girl, once nearly as slender as she is now, looked like 100lbs bigger. What did she think about it? Surely she knew something was behind it? Surely she couldn’t just be putting it down to hunger, could she? Oh, to be a fly in the room while Jill was eating herself to enormity.

And beneath the note was a second one.

 

Ianto Jones – me out

 

This was a fairly new entry, and one she was really proud of. And why wouldn’t she be? She had Ianto’s tongue on demand regardless of how the relationship was faring. And that it was faring well seemed to be clearer and clearer. They had been flickers before she meddled with things, but the book sealed the deal. He was too arrogant to admit that he spent five hours licking out a woman without finding her immensely attractive. Choosing to like her, to be with her, was more to protect his own pride for his sexually aggressive tongue around her. Who knew the book could be used in such a way?

Then, she grabbed her pen and began to write a third entry for the day.

 

Rosy Richards -

 

She paused, deciding on what to write next. Of all the various things, wilfully destructive things, that she could do, what would really tarnish the pretty girl in the polka dot dress. And then, with a smirk across her face, knew exactly what to put.

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Chapter 7

 

 

Thank fuck it was Friday!

Rosy had really been put through the mill of late, and she could do with a weekend just to recalibrate. Everything had been off-kilter and unbalanced through a distorted lens. But, get through one more day, just one bastard day, and then she could find her rhythm once more. Just one more bastard day.

Whatever that one day would entail. Though it was safe to say that it probably wasn’t going to include slimming. And this was a concept Rosy was fast realising as she pulled herself out of bed with a yawn and a stretch. She felt heavier. Which was fair, since she was, but she felt it too. Everywhere. Every limb felt anchored. Every joint felt burdened. And every lean forward caused rolls. It may have been one more day to until the weekend, but the difference between last weekend and this would not be more stark.

She stood with a vocal aspiration of air as she walked to her wardrobe to decide with clothing option would unflatter her the least. Last Friday, she had chosen a sunny yellow dress with an actual ribbon around her waist, giving her almost cartoonish levels of trendiness. It was her favourite Friday choice, with its celebratory colours and general jubilatory joy. And it was a tight fit, something she had always enjoyed. Back when she was in the shape of her life. It coiled around her waist like a body-wrap, outlining every allusion of her flesh. Lower, like all the dresses she wore, it was short and puffier. Another choice she always went for, that celebrated her pins while deflecting from the padded cushion behind her.

Not this time though. The yellow ribbon dress would not even be attempted this week. Just one week later. She looked down at herself, wearing her ethereal nightie, and saw every indication why. Her breasts, always demurely diminutive, not looked padded, like she’d got a bit more support for them. Her legs, still lithe, but not with same pride now. A little mottling and puckering near as they climbed up, a little pillow case of fatness wrapping itself round them. Her arse, always a downfall, now a little wider, a little softer, a little less sleek. But her stomach. There lay the giveaway as to how bad a week it had been. Even in the shapelessness of her nightie, the way it marched out was clearly noticable. It was tight and strained from a week of inhuman levels of bingeing, and it would not squeeze in her Friday attire of choice.

Stripped down, the consequences made themselves more blatant than previously. Her bra cut into her back more aggressively, her knickers slipped between the valley of her arse cheeks more readily. Everything that had spent a lifetime flattering her, now seemed hellbent on doing the opposite. In just a week.

She fished out a dress from the back of her wardrobe, the corner of it that she reserved for emergencies and disasters. Here were all the soulless clothing choices. Dresses that fit her like a glove that didn’t fit. Dresses that sagged around the centre or dresses that drooped with uninspired aimlessness. She picked out a turquoise one, not even this season’s colours, and resigned herself to wearing that. To disguise this fashion faux-pas, a cute red jacket came to the rescue, tighter around the shoulders than she remembered, but, left undone, removed any incriminating signs of her week of overindulgence.

The scales, however, were less forgiving. The right clothing choices could conjure all manner of myths about her appearance, but the scales told no such lies. Instead, it told her that she was 131lbs of woman spread across her thrifty 5ft1 body. That was 25lbs in just four days which, given yesterday, perhaps should not have been such a surprise to her at all. But still, it was a lot, and a lot for Rosy to deal with. At least Alabama would always be there to console her. She dropped Al a text, but didn’t get a reply. Figuring she must have been busy and that they could catch up at work anyway, she carried on her automatic daily routine and grabbed a bagel on her way out to work, forgetting that it wasn’t needed after yesterday.

 

Thank fuck it was Friday!

Alabama had really been put through the mill of late and was glad to see the back of this particular week, frankly. There had always been two constants in her life, her friendship with Rosy and her relationship with Matilda, and both had been threatened by the tribulations of the past four days. She just needed a nice, normal week without the drama and madness to get her breath back after such successive tumult.

Her friendship with Rosy had only frayed last night, when she realised that this girl that she had trusted for so long, had been lying to her since the turn of the year. It was hard for Alabama to be to angry, given that the lie was about their sexual dalliance and that the thing Rosy lied about was her confessing to Matilda about said dalliance, but Rosy just didn’t lie to Alabama. That just wasn’t the type of girl she was. Or thought she was, anyway. I mean, the pair of them had discussed how Matilda knew about their affair, and Rosy had every opportunity to fess up, and all she did was feign ignorance harder. Such deliberate deceit. Such cowardly deceit. It made Alabama’s blood boil.

But, while Rosy’s friendship fraying had been a recent turn, it was the patching up of her relationship with Matilda that had only happened the past night. And Alabama could only feel relief as she lay next to the woman that she loved, and listened to her heavy breathing. They were back together and Matilda was back gaining weight, and, despite everything else, Alabama couldn’t shake the smile off her face at that thought. It had come at a cost, a Faustian pact that served as retribution and rehabilitation. Alabama had been coerced into joining Matilda in the weight gain game that Al so enjoyed inflicting on Matty. Now, two were being taken to this particular tango, and Alabama, who had unintentionally haughtily dismissed weight gain as a sacrifice to a body she held in such high regard, was now to cut loose like the woman next to her.

The first trial of this had been that previous night, and, as Alabama got up and started getting ready for work, she wondered how long it would take for the consequences to take hold. On one hand, gaining weight herself was bucking the habit of a lifetime and railing against an existence forged on the fires of abstinence and projection. On the other hand though, she was a feeder and feeders often make for wonderful feedees.

There was not much in the way of evidence yet, however. Even if she had been far more indulgent that normal for a good couple of days now, just as a consequence of circumstance and distraction, her body still cut through the air like a knife. Her skin still stretched tautly over her stomach like the cover on an ironing board. Her breasts could still be contained in Matilda’s small pudgy hands. Her legs were still marked with sinew. She may have 6lbs above her normal at 118lbs, but she wasn’t having to reach to the back of her cupboard for an emergency work suit. She could pick from her usual array of sleek styles.

“You’re up early, Bam. Early start?” Matilda said as she tried to focus on the blurred screen of her phone to read the time.

“I thought I’d get an early start on doing breakfast for you, now you’re back on the bandwagon. All that dieting probably built you up a hunger”

“You know, I only dieted for two days, and, over the course of that diet, I still managed to gain a pound. It’s not like I’m wasting away. And speaking of wasting away...”

“Yes...”

“How many breakfasts are you doing? Cos you better be doing two, Bam. I’m not the only one over-eating any more my love. Come on over to the dark side… we have cookies”

“Is that from Star Trek?”

“Star Wars Bam! Surely you know Star Wars!”

“You know I don’t do sci-fi, Matty”

“Yeah, and I don’t do vegetables, but I still know what a fucking carrot is. It’s Star Wars for fuck sake. And talking of not doing vegetables, this brings us back round to… you better do yourself a decent sized breakfast. I don’t want my baby girl to go to work on an empty stomach”

“Fiiine. How does a cooked breakfast sound?”

“With hash brown?”

“Yeah, with hash brown. Like I would ever do you a cooked breakfast without a hash brown Matty. It would be as offensive as Yoda’s syntax” Alabama flashed a cheeky smile.

“Ha! So you do know Star Wars! Thank fuck for that!”

Alabama waltzed into the kitchen, and got a couple of frying pans out, ready to do the breakfast to end all breakfast. She would feed Matty, maybe Matty would feed her. Yeah, Alabama like the sound of them feeding each other. She quickly looked at her phone to see a message had arrived from Rosy. Alabama ignored it, not in the mood for her, and instead focused her energies on the woman that she was in the mood for.

 

Alabama got to work a little later than normal, and with a little more bacon in her hair than normal also. A little more tomato ketchup around her mouth. And a little more hunched over with bloating than normal. Rosy spotted it immediately and came to check if she was okay.

“Oh god, Al. You look awful! Did… did you get got by that book too?”

Alabama didn’t reply. Not with words, anyway. Daggers for eyes did the trick, a glowering glare to let everybody know what was what.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Rosy back-pedalled, taken back by the black mood.

“You told her”

“What?”

“I said you told her”

“I told who, what?” Rosy continued, her big eyes wide with innocence.

“Don’t you dare lie to me again. I trusted you. We talked about things, relationship things, things you were lying about” Alabama spat.

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“There you go, lying again. You know what I mean, you just daren’t say cos you don’t want to admit it, in case you’re wrong. But you’re not wrong. You know exactly what I’m talking about”

“Oh. Oh god, I’m so sorry Al. I’m so sorry. You don’t understand. It’s the guilt, Al! It’s just too much for me! And I can’t cope! I can’t cope with all this guilt”

“That’s fine. I get you telling Matty. But you shouldn’t have lied to me”

“Wait, tell Matty what?”

“About New Year’s”

Rosy just sat there, stunned to silence. Chickens that she knew would eventually have to come home to roost at some point. But never like this. Not with all that was happening in her life. Rosy and her defence mechanism of deception, pulled undone like thread from a quilt.

I’m sorry, Al. I am. I’m a coward Al. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m a coward who feels so guilty about the things I’ve done that I… I don’t know how to cope with them. So I… I didn’t lie. I just… pretended that I hadn’t told her. Pretended that I didn’t know. Pretended that the things that I was saying were the truth. And I believed it a little bit too, by the end. I’m so so sorry Al”

This time, it was Alabama’s turn to sit in silence. But it was a different type of silence. The type where you could feel the air rushing along your back and down your spine. A dark, cruel silence. An angry silence.

“Aren’t you supposed to be busy? How about you go back to your office and do your work, and leave me to do mine?” Alabama said, though what she didn’t say was every bit as loud. And Rosy walked back to her office with low shoulders. Ianto, from the other side of the office partitions, didn’t hear what was said, but could tell that they were no longer talking.

 

It was a couple of hours later, during a conference call on the costing of redundancy packages at all of the stores that they were planning on closing, that Rosy got the first crackle of hunger percolate through her. And normally she would have an Alabama to help her. To redirect people’s attention or divert it elsewhere. But Rosy had no such thing. Rosy was alone. And Rosy was craving peanut butter.

Fortunately, DIY Dick was wandering about the premises, clearly bored, with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling Bad Blood by Taylor Swift. Swifties come in all shapes and sizes you know. Rosy waved her hands frantically to get his attention, and his face lit up at the thought of doing something, especially for his favourite employee.

“What’s the craic, flower? How can I help?”

“Promise not to judge me?”

“Sure. And my word is my contract. So, what’s up?”

“I need peanut butter. Lots of it. Like with the chocolate earlier, but with… like, peanut butter instead. And I need it ASAP. And I don’t want anyone to know. Could you do that for me”

“Hey, leave it with me flower. I know just the way”

“Really? Oh, thanks a million Dick. You’re the best” and Rosy flashed her warmest smile to him. At least somebody still liked her.

Twenty agonising minutes later, twenty minutes of Rosy using the vending machine and relying on Reese’s peanut butter cups just to survive the shellacking that this hunger was wreaking upon her, DIY Dick came along with a pump truck, and a new filing cabinet on the pump truck. He closed her door and wheeled it over to the other corner of her office, opposite the vending machine.

“Dick? That’s a filing cabinet. That’s not peanut butter”

“Open it. Open any drawer”

And sure enough, when Rosy opened the drawers each one was packed to the rafters with exactly what she wanted. Industrial sized 15kg tubs of peanut butter, surrounded by smaller tubs, like mini eggs surrounded an Easter Egg.

“They have them in the canteen. They buy in bulk, you see. And the other tubs, the smaller ones? They’re just from our own stock. Apparently peanut butter is a health food, who knew?”

“Dick… thank you so much. How can I repay you?”

“Help me wheel this thing away when you’ve finished with its contents. It’s fecking heavy you know”

And Rosy smiled. But not for long. She had peanut butter to eat.

The group meeting at 11am was unattended by her, she was spooning the sticky mixture straight into her mouth at this point. The 12.30pm catch-up with her team was postponed as she dragged a spoon around the base of one of the tubs. The 2pm interview she was supposed to listen in on saw truancy as she tried to stop the viscous texture from ending around her mouth and stay within it instead. 3.30pm reviews were a bust. The 4pm deadline for submitting the performance breakdown for the board meeting next week was missed. Every deadline and get-together eschewed, every plan and expectation reneged upon. Diary entries forgone for dairy entries as the buttery mixture pummelled the swallowing reflex with sticky uncooperation. Today, like every day this week, had revealed itself to be a calorific bust. Unfortunately, unlike every day this week, she didn’t have her best friend to placate her.

All she had was peanut butter. Heavy, leaden peanut butter. By the industrial tub. Each one was labelled as containing 15kg of the stuff. And there were five of them all together. And yet the observations made by Alabama yesterday were right. Despite the viscosity, the sluggishness of it, she was eating faster than ever. Her hunger seemed to be accelerating with each entry. Which would explain why it took her just over an hour finish each tub. That meant she nearly finished all five by the time the mind-warping hunger abated. Which was fairly substantial given that each container was powered to the tune of 75000 calories. Rosy was finding new limits that no human with a functioning digestive tract ever should.

Alabama, for her part, was fairly sure that something was up involving Rosy. She knew the signs, the profusely apologetic procrastinations and the rearrangements. She saw it all. But she didn’t care. Well, she did care perhaps. But it was legacy compassion, and she wore a coat of righteous dismissal over it. Her energies were elsewhere. They were in trying to catch up with her own work backlog, since she was essentially carrying the financial management team with Rosy’s and Ianto’s respective preoccupations. And then there was Ianto, who had again rushed off like he’d been caught with a weak bladder, but to the same out the way printer room where he could canoodle with the suspicious temp. He was at her for five hours, and it began the same time Rosy had started eating. And finally, there was one last thing to focus upon. Herself.

More specifically, her appetite. She insisted that this was reluctant, that she was dragging her heels, kicking and screaming. But she wasn’t, not really. She didn’t want to gain weight, she kept telling Matty, but recent events had caused her to resist a little less than she let on. Seeing her friend, always so thin and dainty, like a porcelain doll, plump up had removed the peer-pressure element and the self-consciousness of it. To see her Matilda want it made her feel less guilty about her bodily maintenance. And to see both, along with poor, poor Jill, all merrily ballooning had refracted the sexual paradigm for her.

She’d always been a little in denial about how sexually satisfied she had been with Matilda. There was a permanent frustration when the thing you desire is more. Because, like tomorrow, more never actually arrives. Once you have more, then it stops being more, and a new more appears on the horizon. So, even though Matilda was submerging herself under a cacophony of calories on her pervert’s whim, satisfaction always seemed just a day away.

Maybe that was why she slipped that New Year’s Day. Office Christmas and New Year party combined saw libations liberally imbibed and self-restraint ebb away along with 2018. And there was Rosy, always so sweet and perfect, absolutely locked after too many wine refills. This embodiment of class and almost pre-feminist femininity, like a vintage poster about women staying at home and making meals for their hard-working men, letting the mask slip just a little. Not so perfect after all. It was as intoxicating as she was intoxicated. Because, ultimately, Alabama needed more than even Matilda could provide, and Matilda provided one hell of a lot.

But now, Alabama was surrounded by it all. A panopticon of plumpness wherein every owl-twist of her head revealed somebody somewhere somehow gaining weight. Her girlfriend crossing the 400 barrier like there was a prize for it. Rosy eating much more than is humanly possible on an hour by hour basis. Jill, once so thin and pretty, addling herself with rolls and cellulite and a glamorous loss of lustre. It was all fuel to a stoked libido, sparked into life. And suddenly, with all this madness swirling around her, Alabama, trapped in the eye of this storm, felt the urge to use Matilda’s insistence as an excuse to push her preference onto even her own self.

It started with snacking. I mean, everyone did it. Something on their desk to slide their hand into between keystrokes, and then put it into their mouth to occupy it while their mind similarly chewed. Fudge was the vice that gripped Alabama. A specialist shop two streets down sold truffles and caramels and fudge, and it was the latter that tempted the girl hunting to be tempted. Sugary, buttery and creamy, it was not the healthiest snack, but wasn’t that the point? Matilda wanted her to gain and damned if, although she would publicly deny it, Alabama didn’t want it too.

It continued with lunch. Lunch was not a regular feature of the Alabama working day, just as breakfast never was. Coffee was her usual substitute, coffee as dark as her sexual urges. But she could lunch. All the other girls did and nobody batted an eye. She wandered down to the company canteen to see the same healthy eating gubbins that they specialised in and that she was hoping to sidestep. So across the road to the Italian place where the owner saw her and welcomed her with a generous smile. He observed that it wasn’t like her to eat lunch here, she retorted it wasn’t like her to eat lunch at all, and all of a sudden her eating felt clandestine, and clandestine felt thrilling. She opted for a puttanesca dish that was big on flavour and big on olives, which, for whatever reason, Alabama was somewhat partial to. Finished off with a hearty slice of tiramisu and Alabama was eating more like her girlfriend than her normal abstinent self.

And such gluttony inspired her, like a gambler coaxed into better more off the back of a big win. And the afternoon drifted into intentional snacking, concentrated snacking, and, slowly, it took over the focus of her day. She would exchange texts with her girlfriend, letting each other know how badly the other was eating. And suddenly they felt like they were in on it together. Two girls, with a siege mentality, against the world. Matilda suggested it to bring them closer together. She figured there was a power discrepancy in the relationship caused by only one party gaining. She expected this to help, but neither of them expected what a thrill this would be.

 

When Rosy left the office, she had nobody to walk home with. No friend to gossip with, compare stories and regale tales. And nobody to prop open her collapsing stomach, swollen beyond belief and leaving the poor director from walking around like she was expecting her waters to break. With every step she hoiked around her gorged belly painfully until she finally got home. And she had no aspirations or plans for her evening other than to curl up into her bed and pray for a respite. Little did she realise what Tanni had put down for her.

Alabama had already left the office when Rosy waddled home. She’d rushed off with a spring in her step that she hadn’t sprung since the first year of her time with Matilda. She remembered those days, when Matilda was merely chunky. Merely soft. Maybe generously curvaceous. A little extra cushion for the pushin’. Alabama had been open and honest about her preferences, like she was straight-forward and direct about most things. And it was that, the honesty, that enticed Matilda in more than the gaining. That Alabama was so shamelessly unapologetic about wanting it, it was hard not to get caught up into it. And so she did. And that halcyon time when they first got together and it all seemed so new and rebellious was the best time of their lives. And this felt a lot like them days.

“I brought Chinese food” Alabama said as she walked through the door with a smile.

“Same!” Matilda yelled in delight. “Great minds think alike!”

How much?”

“I went for the meal for 8?”

“Jesus, I only went and got the same! What the fuck must Zhao think of us both ordering that?”

“I know what I think of it. I think it’s hot”

And that was how they spent their night, leaving them to pass out around midnight. And that was why Alabama didn’t see her phone and the message left on it by Rosy until the following morning. She woke up late morning and saw the first one with a sense of cynical eyeroll

 

HELP! I’VE BEEN EATING PIZZA SINCE 7PM AND

I’M REALLY STRUGGLING

 

Such a pity-whore. Desperate for attention. This was how she tried to repair the friendship after her betrayal. By emotionally and sexually blackmailing her with pizza feeding. It was petty and embarrassing. Or Alabama thought so until she saw the time stamp of 3am. And then she began to worry for her friend again.

 

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Going to try to finish this story in two more chapters so hang on in there.

 

Chapter 8


 

She still had some pizzas in the fridge. Thank mother above, she still had some pizzas in the fridge. The pizza delivery guy wouldn’t be here for 20 to 25 minutes, but the fresh pizzas that Alabama brought round a couple of days ago to test her ‘pie’ theory took only 10 minutes to cook at 180. So if she cooked it at full heat, maybe even sooner. And she needed it as soon as possible because, and it was undeniable now, each bout of bingeing was more severe than the last. Her grip on restraint, on reality was loosening as the build-up surged inside of her. She needed to eat pizza, and she needed to eat it yesterday.

She had no intention of bleating about it to Alabama. Every thought she had that wasn’t about pizza was about the guilt she had over lying to her best friend. In many ways, the pangs were light relief from her guilt. Alabama had always trusted her, held her to be some paragon of virtue and honesty, and Rosy had betrayed her. She had grassed to Matilda about the affair and then, to top it all off, she feigned ignorance and bare-faced lied when Alabama asked how Matilda could possibly have found out. And Rosy knew that Alabama had always held her to a higher standard than that. Such duplicity. Rosy knew that she was supposed to be the good one, the nice girl who always tried to do the right thing. But Rosy also knew that was a beat she had been one step out on the right thing for a long time now and it was eating her up. Eating up was becoming an increasing problem in Rosy’s life, in general, in fact.

That would have to do. The two pizzas in the oven hadn’t been in there long enough, and they didn’t look fully cooked, but it would have to do. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and Rosy's stomach was currently begging as if for its life to be stuffed with them. The wretched pangs simply provided no further leaway. She pulled them out and put in her last two. Hopefully they would be cooked by the time she ate the first ones. And hopefully one of the pizza delivery guys would be here by the time the next two were done. A conveyor belt of gluttony to placate the implacable hunger that had made her its master. It was 7:07pm and it felt like it was going to be a bumpy night.

She was just eating the final slice of the fourth pizza when the door knocker rat-a-tat-tatted. And just as well too, since she’d begun to get nervous, and physically jittery as the four pizza’s end drew near, and her buffer began evaporating while her reinforcements still hadn’t been heralded, but the sound of some young courier bruising his fist against her wooden front door melted away the worry. It was 7:27pm and she could sigh a heavy sigh of relief. He must have been so confused, the poor courier, dropping off more than half a dozen pizzas to a still small-ish girl all on her own and already eating a pizza, with further remnants of pizza smeared across her top. I mean, I know this is Dublin, but still. And that shock would be nothing to the shock on the faces of couriers 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9, as they all saw the same again, but worse. She hoped such vast numbers would suffice the five hours.

By 9pm, it was looking promising that this would, indeed, be the case. It would be close perhaps, but she had maybe only over-committed by one courier. Nine couriers, eight pizzas each, that was 72 pizzas, and she was hoping to be a solid 12 under that by the end. And, for that reason, she’d save the worst eight pizzas – sorry, Pizza Hut and the shite taste of your pizzas – for last, in the mathematically sound hope that they wouldn’t be necessary and this spate of unbeguiling feasting would reach its conclusion before those eight in question had actually been reached. Not that the taste mattered to Rosy's clogged up palate. She couldn’t even have told you what flavour they were. Just how easily they folded into calzones and how quickly she could swallow them. They tasted of nothing but relief. It felt like scratching an itch and feeling that brief wave of relief wash over you before realising that scratching had only made it itch more. So you scratch it some more, and so the cycle repeats until midnight.

By 11pm and with the light at the end of the tunnel piercing into view, Rosy could recalculate and see how far out her sums were. With an hour to go, there were 18 pizzas left. Which wasn’t quite what she was expected. Mental arithmetic was admittedly a challenge when your mind was addled by the monkey howl of hunger constantly, but she should have had about 24 by this point. She was shooting over her figures by about sixat this stage, hinting, again, that her pace and her appetite, and her waistline, were only increasing. And losing track of six pizzas might just be six pizzas in a vast expanse of pizza dough and tomato sauce, but it was still unnerving to know that six entire pizzas could so easily be misplaced within her mouth over the course of one evening. But not to worry. Even at 12 or 14 an hour, she’d have spares. This was all okay, she was on track. She just had to survive another hour.

The first wave of doubt struck 12:03am, when she felt the irresistible urge to lift yet another slice of soggy pizza from the soggy cardboard and into a soggy mouth so smeared in red it looked like she was cosplaying as Heath Ledger’s the Joker. Had she mistaken the tie when it started? She was always so vigilant these days about the starting times, since ending times depended on them and ending times were always the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe her sums were wrong. Maybe the Chief Financial Officer of a multinational corporation had been flummoxed and fallen foul of basic arithmetic. No, 7pm start, plus five hours, definitely meant a midnight finish. Maybe this slice was the last one then, before it stopped. No? Well, maybe this one then? Or this? Or this?

And then worry scored Rosy’s eyes as the end so clearly in sight melted away beyond an indeterminate horizon. She wasn’t stopping. It was gone midnight. It was now quarter past. She should have stopped fifteen minutes ago. And she wasn’t stopping. Her breath got rickety and ragged as she realised what was going on. Something was going wrong. Something was going seriously wrong. And still more pizza was being eaten. And more. And more. When would this end? It would end, right? It would end? There was nothing for it, Rosy was going to have to call for more pizza delivery.

But she wouldn’t tell Alabama. No, she had to face this on her own. She’d let Alabama down and the consequence was to be alone. It was what she deserved. And it certainly wasn’t fair to rope her best friend – or former best friend or whatever she was – into this. She had to surmount this mountain by herself. She had no choice but to. She was a bad person, but she wasn't that bad a person. Fear and panic and dread and horror be damned, Rosy was all alone.

The faces of the pizza couriers were mild relief as they, like the pizza-toting cavalry they were, arrived almost in red-arrow formation and on cue, dropping off swathes of circular carbs to the girl already drowning in circular carbs. She had previously changed into her nightie, preferring its gliding material not so fiercely straining against the happless ruction of her stomach. But the soft silky clothing choice was now a patchwork of red, the alacrity with which she had been eating being no friend to eloquence and etiquette.

The final courier, number 11 if you must know since Rosy was taking no chances about this extension of her hunger pangs, wasn’t just shocked however. Sure, his eyes boggled in a fairly goofy way, like so many of the others had done just before him, but there was something else in his eyes. A weird familiarity to his expression.

You haven’t been at this for five hours, by any chance?” he asked as he handed over his goods in exchange for a fistful of Euros. It was a bold question to ask, and completely out of the blue too. Had his suspicion, half-baked though it was, not been true, he would have been chased back to his bike by Rosy burnishing pizzas as weapons with which to beat him. But he needed to ask, and, fortunately for both parties involved, he was right to ask, also.

Sorta. Why? Does five hours mean something to you? Have you seen something like this before?” Rosy asked, not have the willpower to have the common courtesy to not open the pizza box there and then and begin stuffing her face as she spoke.

Yeah. But it wasn’t with pizza, it was ice cream”

Oh, you’re talking about Jill. Ianto’s wife. Yeah, I heard about that” Rosy nodded, realising that it made sense that someone might draw a parallel with Jill the former gymnast now drowning in ice cream, and Rosy's pizza bonanza.

No. Not sure who that Jill is, but I was talking about my girlfriend, Aisling”

Rosy nearly stopped in her tracks. She didn’t quite manage to stop in her her tracks. She couldn’t. Her hand wouldn’t stop if it was cuffed to a radiator. But she tried, in shock. She knew of no such incident involving a woman called Aisling.

No, I’ve never heard of her. Sorry, I know you’re busy, but could give me the craic on this Aisling and her ice cream thing?”

And the friendly pizza delivery boy sat down and took his time to tell his story, while Rosy stuffed her face with the food he and so many other boys had brought her.


 

I’d been seeing her about 2 years when it started. This was about, oh I dunno… four months ago perhaps. I’d been seeing her since then she’d always been a really skinny thing. Really hot. She was into, like, martial arts and stuff so she never had any fat on her. It was savage, right yeah? And then, completely out of the blue, she had this ice cream binge. Like, full on, max bastard type stuff. There were just tubs of it lying around like she was doing her fecking best to piss of Marie Kondo or whatever. And I knew, like right away, this ain’t right. This is fucking insane. My Aisling is a lovely little girl, not Taz the Tasmanian Devil, you know? But we figured maybe it was a blip. Or hormone thing maybe. I mean, it was around her time of the month or whatever and you hear stories about how it can drive people just like insane.

And then it stopped and we thought it was over, or whatever. Next day, the same fucking thing happened again. I’m not kidding, five hours straight, just guzzling the stuff. She couldn’t get enough of it. Like it was crack or something. Next day, same again. Four days in a row, we got worried, so we saw a doctor. Of course, they just laughed us out the building didn’t they. Bingeing sessions ain’t exactly a sign of anything other than being hungry. So we tried some other techniques. Meditation. Yoga. She was trying to get her focus sorted. She hated it you know. Hated it. The not being in control of her own actions, her own mind. But nothing worked. Not even close. If anything, each binge got worse, like she was hungrier than the last time.

We tried the doctors again, worried. It had been about 3 weeks of it, every day, sometimes twice a day with just a two hour reprieve between binges. They listened this time, but only on account of how much she’d gained. It had been about, and I’m not kidding here, 40lbs. My skinny girlfriend, in just three weeks, had been a right tubby little thing. She didn’t do martial arts any more, she was embarrassed. University got embarrassing for her. It was all so embarrassing for her. And the doctors were terrified, cos that’s not natural, putting on that much. She was a high-flying History student from Trinity college, with a job lined up ready at the end of it…”

Wait, did you say a History student and Trinners? She wasn’t a student of Matilda, was she?”

I dunno, maybe. Was she the fat one? Wait, is she another victim too? Fuck, do ye think it’s contagious? I hope it’s not an STD cos I’m screwed in that case. Cos yeah, the doctors did all these blood work tests, wondering about her something-or-other but everything was perfectly normal. Thyroid, that was it. But no. All seemed fine. And it was getting worse. After about a month, I got this job just to pay for it all. Three times a day, with two hour gaps. Of just downing ice cream. We just buy ice cream and don’t put it in the freezer, so it melts, so she can down it when the time comes. And she was getting so fat now. Like, ridiculous levels of fat. Over 200lbs.

And it was really fucking with her happiness levels you know. As it would. She had to drop out of university. Job offer gone. Family disowned her, thinking she was acting out. Only one friend kept in touch with her, and she used to tease her so much. I mean, she was a godsend, Tanni was, always tending to her, put she was such a dick at times”

Hang on… Tanni? Brown hair, no waist, eyes like a Pikachu? That Tanni?”

Yeah, you know her?”

Yeah, I work with her at EatWell, she temps there”

Fuck, do you think she’s the one who infected ye? Like Typhoid Mary? Or like in 28 Weeks Later? D’ya think she’s a… whaddaya call it… a carrier for this disease?”

I think she’s doing it on purpose. When this is over, I’m going to have a word”

Fuck, you do that. Cos this thing, this whatever it is, it’s ruined her life. And I’m not exaggerating. Ruined her life. D’you know what she does know, between binges? She eats. It’s like it’s fucked up her appetite and now she just eats between binges. Like she’s got nothing left in her life. And I’m not her boyfriend any more, I’m her fucking carer. She used to be so hot, and now all I do is take care of her. And you’re telling me Tanni might be behind all this? She better not, cos I’ll fucking kill her. Before she kills my Aisling”

K… kills your Aisling? Why?”

She’s getting fat. 640lbs she is, now. And doctors say she’s healthy, like weirdly healthy for her weight, but… c’mon, that’s a lot of weight. In just three months. If it doesn’t stop… how long before… fuck, it doesn’t even bare thinking about. You know, I never liked that Tanni. She always seemed so nice, and Aisling always thought it was funny that I didn’t like her, but there was just something about her, you know? Something in the way she seem so worried for her friend one second, and then cracking jokes the next. Like nothing really affected her. I can’t really describe it, but, like, her eyes don’t smile when she does. It’s… it’s weird. And she was always jealous of Aisling. Tanni dropped out of University. It got too much for her. That’s why she got a job at yer place. And Aisling made it all look so easy. Fuck, it’s probably for the best I don’t know where she lives, cos I’d… I swear, I’d fucking kill her. And then I wouldn’t be able to look after my Aisling. Poor thing.”

Yeah, I’ll sort it for you, don’t you worry about that. Oh, by the way… did the binges ever last more than five hours?”

I mean, sometimes a bit over, by fifteen minutes or so, but that’s all. Why? How long have you...”

30. I’m 30 minutes over”

Shite. That would have me worried, that would. That, honestly, that would shit me up. I hope it stops soon cos that never happened to my Aisling. But, then again, she never ate pizza, so… I dunno. Good luck, either way. And fuck up that Tanni if you have to. How long has it been hitting you?”

Just the week. But it’s been a long arse fucking week”

The delivery guy smiled at that in empathy, he could well imagine, before he bade farewell. He didn't know what she looked like before all this happened, before the onslaught of onslaughts commenced, but he could well believe she was a week or so into it. He didn't know she was built like Tinkerbell and that to gain like she had done required thrusting herself at food with abandon that would have made Aisling blush during that first month. But he left her to eat, with a near year's supply of pizza and a lot of muddled thoughts and theories to digest. And soon, Rosy’s mind began whirring as fast as her mouth, occupied by Tanni as much as her stomach was occupied with digesting.

But, by 1am, she was getting nervous again. An hour overdue. Maybe she wouldn’t stop? Maybe she would just keep eating forever? He did tell her how Aisling’s eating spiralled out of control, how Aisling’s hunger grew exponentially. She was even eating between binges? I mean, how could she fit that in? It terrified her. And the numbers he listed. 640lbs? That's a terrifying level of snowballing. And what would happen if a girl Rosy’s height weighed 640lbs? And she was gaining far quicker than Aisling was. Aisling only gained 40lbs in the first 3 weeks? How does 25lbs in just four days sound? Oh god, this felt like a tipping point. And one side was oblivion, and the other was a loosening grip.

By 2am, Rosy was a frenzy. She was all alone, having pushed her one friend away, and now she was eating indefinitely. Why had she lied to Alabama? It might have seemed irrelevant given the dire nature of her situation, but nothing felt more important. She kept twisting and contorting her actions in her head, trying to fathom them. Why did she keep making bad decisions. Selfish decision. Just another opportunity to let her friend down. She felt like she was doing it more and more, ever since New Year, it felt like one secret after another. She lied so easily now. It used to be so difficult, like a grinding crank shaft, but now lies slipped out of her mouth like butter. Rosy felt lost, so lost, so lost.

By 3am, she painfully relented. She text Alabama. She knew she was asleep, she knew they weren’t talking, but she had been at this for 8 hours without stop now, and it always stopped. It always stopped. Her mind was racing and her mouth was racing and she felt like she was running out of runway. It just wasn’t stopping and she needed Alabama here. She was so sorry. Oh god, she was so sorry. Sorry for the secrets and the lies. They just kept coming and coming out of her mouth to protect the ones she had already told. They, too, were growing at an exponential rate and she saw no way out. She just needed to talk to her best friend and make everything okay.

It was at 10am that it stopped. After fifteen consecutive, unrelenting, breathless hours of non-stop, ceaseless, unabating gorging, it finally untangled her from its pincers and let Rosy go. She’ll remember the feeling of it, as the impulse drifted away like a dandelion’s head in the breeze once it turns to seed, for the rest of her life. A calm, warm peace that tenderly hugged her after wrestling with the bear-clawed malice of an unstoppable desire to consume more food. She took a moment, just to breathe in and out, feel the taste of the air in her mouth, untainted this time by tomato puree and mozzarella. To feel the cool morning sun on a Saturday morning without the loin-curdling dread of her corporate financial duties.

But such placid revelries couldn’t be indulged for too long. A quick glance around the state of Rosy’s place was a rather brash reminder of this, the place buried under a snowstorm of cardboard boxes, each decorated with residue from her night of piggish wolfing. She scooped up as much as she could across several trips to clear up the mess as best she could, before stopping to realise, rather alarmingly, that she was rather ungraciously sweating as a consequence of such exertion. It seems that, burdened by her added bulk, even packing shite up was exhausting.

Rosy, Rosy, Rosy. She just didn’t know what to do. She felt amputated without her friend, having to navigate the world after the sudden removal of a limb she had depended on all her matured life. She shouldn’t be so dependent on once person, it was a little embarrassing really, but they had grown up in that company together and it felt weird to not feel her presence even when she had left the room. God, that seemed pathetic to her. Such puppy-like dependence. No, Rosy would have to pull herself together. No, she was in control. The hunger had faded and she was in control. She wasn't sure for how long, but, at least for the time being, she was in control.

First, she would weigh herself. Now, that didn’t feel like a Rosy thing to do. That felt like an Alabama thing to do. But how could she not, after the day that she just had? What kind of woman, what kind of human wouldn’t step on the scales in morbid, and nervous curiosity. She didn’t know what the numbers would even mean. Presumably the numbers would be inaccurate, as all the undigested food just mulched about in her digestive tract, weighing down on winded organs. But, after such a session, Rosy needed to know. She needed to know the number.

When 155lbs shone back to her, she almost laughed. It was comical really. Even if 10lbs of that was undigested food, and surely that was impossible, then she had still somehow managed to attain 43lbs on her dainty little 5ft2 self. In just a week. In just a week of her life. Anybody over the age of 20 years old has been alive for over 1000 weeks and this was how much destruction she had fallen victim to in just one of them. She had never been anything other than the size of the fairy atop a Christmas tree in all her life, and, after six days, she had managed to rip the roots out of that and leave her plummeting to the almost unimaginable depth of being medically overweight.

She needed to go shopping. I mean, it was obvious really. What else could she really do in her circumstances? Her stomach now pushed out a good 6 inches on its former position and there was not a clothing purchase in her wardrobe designed to accommodate such a protrusion. She needed to take this respite and do something productive, such as buy clothing that regained her modesty. Yes, that was a plan. Forget worrying or stressing about anything else and focus on that. And that was when her phone started vibrating. It was Alabama. Fuck, it was actually Alabama.

Hey” Rosy asked, the tentative edge in her voice clear as anything.

Have you stopped?” Al replied down the phone with cold antipathy.

Stopped?”

Stopped eating. I’ve just seen your text”

Yeah, about 20 minutes ago. 10am. I think it’s over now, Al”

Good. Well, I’ll leave you then...”

Hey, thanks for calling Al...” Rosy said, but the phone had already been put down. Rosy closed her eyes as her phone screen turned to black. So she still cared about her, or she wouldn’t have called. But she hadn’t forgiven her though. And that seemed fair, in truth. That seemed like progress. Painful progress, like cauterising a wound with a flame-thrower, but progress nonetheless. Maybe her relationship with Alabama wasn't done, and that was the kind of thought progress that could buoy Rosy over the course of a day.

She set back out, with a newfound spring in her step, grabbing a remaining slice of pizza as she left, before spitting it back out as soon as it hit her mouth. Nope. No fucking way. That was a bad idea. Her body might have forgotten when it was full under this book’s spell, but it was all clued up now and she couldn’t cope with anything in her mouth after eating all that. Good. That means she wasn't as far gone as that poor Aisling girl had become. That was some consolation.

Half an hour later, and she was at Stephen’s Green shopping centre, scouring for work clothing options. She realised as soon as she got there, surrounded by racks of clothing on either side, that she didn’t actually know what size she was anymore. She did last week. Size 2. Size 4 to accommodate any monthly bloat. But things had changed since she last bought clothes, namely the circumference of her waist, and so she couldn’t help but feel a little bit lost. So her scowl of concern quickly turned into a smile when a helpful lady came up to her with a big grin plastered on her face, ready to impart commission-seeking advice to the bewildered looking customer.

And what size are ye looking for there?” she asked, clearly spying Rosy’s scarcely hidden confusion.

Gotta admit, not actually sure. Not as slim as I was last came here, not sure what size I currently am”

Oh, I must admit, I was wondering. Well, you’ll be pleased to know we have a wonderful range of maternity wear just this way. Some of it slimming, some of it more celebratory, depending on your mood. Come this way and I'll show you around. Oh, and may I ask when you are due?” she asked, as she practically dragged Rosy around. A rather shell-shocked Rosy still rationalising being mistaken for a pregnant lady. Again. And this time, Siobhan the accidental bitch was not the culprit.

Umm… soon. Ish” Rosy defensively replied, any confidence she had now knocked out of her.

I should say. Well, maybe try this...” And the lady showed her an array of clothing items that would flatter her pre-partum figure. And Rosy really didn’t have the nerve to tell the lady otherwise and just went along with it. At least, under the assumption that she was pregnant, she was offered clothes that permitted yet further growth, should the situation call for it.




*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Alabama lay in her bed and let out a sigh. It felt great to be waited on by her girlfriend for a change. Alabama was always there to service Matilda’s every whim and fancy, as an unspoken part-exchange on fattening the woman she loved into a state of gelatinous enormity. Every meal cooked, every room cleaned, every chore done, every trip made. It was always Alabama rushing about with dervish energy to spare Matilda the calories. But not this weekend. Alabama had this weekend off.

It was nearly ruined before it began. Rosy sending that text about a binge going over the allocated five hour slot that had been previously established caused a momentary panic for Al who, despite not particularly wanting to at this moment in time, couldn’t imagine a universe that didn’t involve her caring about Rosy’s welfare. And, in normal circumstances, finding out about her friend being trapped three times longer than they thought possible would be a cause for panic, and would see herself adopted the supportive friend stance. But these were not normal circumstances, their relationship felt frayed, and Alabama wanted to spend her weekend being primped and pampered by her super-sized girlfriend.

You can go round to hers if you like. I won’t mind. It does sound serious” Matilda asked, sympathetically. Despite everything, she knew how deep the relationship between the two of them, Rosy and Alabama ran. Less like a river but rather deep like a trench.

And let you get away with not treating me like a princess? Never” Alabama said, rustling up a side-portion of smile to accompany it. Humour, nature's great deflector.

Thanks, Bam. I know I said I didn’t mind. But I kinda did. I’m glad you’re staying here with me”

You never have to thank me. Ever. For wanting to be with you. You need to know that, Matty. I know I breached your trust, but you are always my number one and anything else in the universe has to make do with a runner’s up slot”

Awww. Well, since you’re being so sweet, I thought you might want some savoury. How about my famous sausage rolls?”

I think they look good on you”

No, you arse!” Matilda threw a cushion at Alabama in mock-anger. “Not my bodily rolls. I meant I’ve cooked some actual sausage rolls. The ones with sesame seeds on the top and mustard in with the sausagemeat that you like”

Oooo, the mustard ones are good. I haven’t had your mustard sausage rolls since… well, since you were 250lbs”

Wait… you measure time by my weight. Cos who the fuck uses the Gregorian calendar? You are one sick puppy, Bam. Maybe, going forward, we should measure time by how big you are”

On that note, Matilda brought in the tray of the still cooling sausage rolls and Alabama lay back and breathed in the aromas. This was going to be a good weekend, Alabama knew it. This weekend was going to be all about Alabama and Matilda, and nothing could ruin it.

 

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Penultimate chapter, and big twist incoming

 

Chapter 9

 

 

New Year’s Eve 2019

 

 

Rosy’s foot kept twitching, lightly bouncing up and down on the floor with nervous energy as she sat. The office was one she had seen just a few times before, but, each time, she noticed just how decorated it was. Academic achievements on the wall, framed, as if they were still worthy of acknowledgement. Clippings of each stage of EatWell’s development from the 100th store being opened, to their online shopping, to their transference to the city centre for their head office. Each one given pride of place in a wall busy with prides of place. Jack Gielgud was certainly a man proud of his achievements.

And maybe Rosy would be too. There had always been a nagging voice in he back of her head saying that this was a man’s world, and that she was an imposter. And that voice was Alabama’s. She’d heard that disgusted diatribe from her so many times, that she had begun to worry that she was correct. I mean, why would Jack give Rosy the promotion over Ianto. He had been at the company longer, he was male, he was even member of the same golf club as Jack. It was as if the world tilted on its axis to hand that man benefits.

Such thoughts were interrupted when Jack walked into the office stridently. He looked at Rosy and could have easily mistaken her for prey. With her always rounding her height up to 5ft2, and weighing a thin sliver over 101lbs, she looked the human equivalent of a toy dog, the kind of woman who could fit in another woman’s handbag. Easily fit, he thought as he looked down at the size of Rosy’s trusty handbag, the Sancho Panza to her Don Quixote. She was dressed no less toy-like, a red and white polka dot dress that gave her a Minnie mouse look. Cartoonishly cute. Which wasn’t traditionally his bag, he was more an Alabama kinda guy, with her power suits and long legs, but he was not so stuck-in-the-mud to not give a pretty girl like Rosy some attention.

“So, what do you think of your chances?” he asked, as he walked around her to his desk.

“I like to believe that I am the candidate best qualified for the position” Rosy lied.

“Oh, please! Stop giving me all that management-speak bollocks. If we’re going to be working together as directors, we need to talk to each other as equals, not servant and master” Jack said with a laugh.

“We’re… going to be working together as directors? I’ve got the job?”

“Well… maybe. I said ‘if’” Jack said, getting up again and pacing. For an man in his late fifties, he sure seemed energetic. “I like you Rosy. I like your positivity. I like the energy you bring to the place. You’re a good employee, and I’d have no problem promoting you. Problem is, so’s Ianto. He’s a top fella. Got more experience too. It’s neck and neck between the two of you. I guess it just depends on how far you’re willing to go to get the role”

“How far? What do you mean?”

Jack, at the point, made it blatantly clear what he meant. Standing up in front of Rosy, he drew down like a castle-bridge, his zipper.

“How much do you want to be CFO, Rosy?” he said

 

Alabama was worried about her friend. The New Year party was starting to vibe and there was no sign of her best friend. Matilda away on another trip to Japan, and her friend AWOl, she was left with all the slimy losers from her office for company, and deplorable music been blasted out too loud for an office party at EatWell’s upper floors. She milled around looking for somebody to talk to, but the only company she could find was a fourth refilled wine glass. She would regret not pacing herself if she wasn’t careful.

“Hey, Al” Ianto said as he came up to her, eyeing her rather blatantly and insidiously.

“Ianto”

“Pretty decent party isn’t it?”

“Yeah, fecking wild” Alabama’s eye roll could have been spotted from space

“Yeah, yeah, totally. Hey, got any New Year’s Resolutions?”

“Spend less time talking to dickheads”

“Yeah, that’s a good one” Ianto said, not picking up the subtle hint. To be fair, he looked as though he may have been replenishing his alcohol levels rather freely. “Mine is to cheat on Jill. An actual New Year’s Resolution! How funny is that?”

“W...why would you do that, you arsehole?”

“Cos she’s getting fat and ugly. You know she’s nearly 30lbs heavier than when I married her 7 years ago. Everyone looks at me with pity. The man who could only get with a woman like her. I’m a joke, Al. And it’s going to change. Ianto will not be a joke in 2019. 2019 will be the year that everything changes. Starting with the promotion, and ending with me getting my own Brazilian girlfriend”

Alabama had walked off halfway during that monologue, though Ianto, engrossed in his favourite subject, himself, hadn’t even noticed that he was now talking to a bare wall. He took another gulp from his plastic cup and thought nothing of it.

Alabama walked around through the trashily decorated room that they were using, when she saw Rosy stagger in, pale as a sheet. She rushed over and gave her friend a hug.

“There you fucking are. I was fucking looking you, ye shitebag. Jeez, what’s up, you look pale as a sheet” she said, pulling away to see a barely compos mentis Rosy with eyes fixed on the middle distance.

“Sorry, I’m just not feeling the New Year cheer” Rosy said, unable to shake what she had done. The good news was that she was fairly sure she was getting her promotion. The bad news was it felt like her soul was trying to climb out of her mouth. Thankfully, Alabama’s affection was just the medicine she needed.

“Hey, I’ll get you a drink. You look like you could either do with one, or you’ve already had too many”

Alabama darted off, to return with four plastic cups, two for each of them.

“Come on, drink up, it’s a party”

They drank, and stuck together like conjoined twins. With all the shithousery and bullshittery going around, they were just grateful to have each other as life-rafts. And Alabama was a tactile drunk, pulling her close and treating Rosy with affection. It was torture for her. Her best friend, but also the only person she had ever fancied, was always in contact with her. Like they were girlfriends. This must be what it was like to be girlfriends with Alabama.

Rosy considered confessing what she did with Jack, back in the office. But she didn’t dare. She didn’t want to look bad in her long-time crush and best friend’s eyes. Instead she just staggered around in half a daze, wanting today to be over, and tonight, with her best friend’s arm draped over her shoulder, to never end.

“I know what your problem is” Alabama shouted rather loudly. Sure, the music was blasting, but Alabama was more than overcompensating. She must have been feeling the alcohol. “You had pre-drinks, didn’t ye, ye cheeky fecker”

Rosy didn’t say anything, but hoped her face told Alabama ‘yes’. Just to divert her attention from the real reason of her haze. She could feign being drunk easily enough, certainly to convince a girl as inebriated as Alabama had become. And Rosy was a short girl, and the few drinks she had drunk were certainly having an effect on her.

“Oh my god, Rosy is fucking pissed. You shitebag, drinking without me. Well, you know what’ll fix you, my bladdered friend. More alcohol! Let’s drink through this and see if there’s another side” And Alabama walked off again for replenishment, leaving Rosy longing for her touch and feeling a little stranded.

“Hey! Rosy! Hey, it’s me, Ianto. I work with you” Ianto said, even worse for wear than Alabama. What was it with office parties and a lack of restraint around alcohol.

“I know who you are”

“Cool, cool. Hey, I’m sorry for taking your promotion. I feel like such an arsehole for that”

“You seem pretty confident I won’t get it”

“Ha, nice one! You know, you’re funny Rosy. I’ve always liked that about you. And pretty, too. So, as my way of saying sorry for being an arsehole, how about we fuck? It is my New Year’s Resolution to cheat on Jill”

“Fuck you, Ianto! Jill’s lovely”

“Yeah, but not pretty any more. It’s embarrassing. I can’t even take her out any more, she embarrasses me. I need someone like you. Or Alabama. Or Tanni”

“Tammy?” The music was making it difficult to hear what he was saying.

“Yeah, she’s that new temp that’s just started. She looks like Jill used to before she let herself go. I’d so bang that. I’d let her shove a dildo up me arse, I like her that much. Truly. I would. I’m a real gentleman like that”

“Well, fuck off, gentleman, and maybe shove a dildo up your own arse!” Alabama said, coming back with drinks and harsh words. Rosy mouthed a ‘thank you’ in gratitude at the intervention. While knowing that the job was hers was some consolation, the thought of yet another man in the space of the same evening have sexual expectations of her made her feel violently ill. Truthfully, it wasn’t Ianto’s fault, he was the one who stabbed her where she was still bleeding. She sucked Jack Gielgud’s dick. No point shrouding it in euphemism. She did it, and she did it simply to further her own career. It was a damned spot on her hand that she couldn’t seem to get out.

She rested her head on Alabama’s chest, not quite tall enough to lean on her shoulder, and closed her eyes to keep the tears in. She could smell him, hear him, and, most of all, taste him. And there was no liquid or solid that would ever wipe that taste away. It tasted like shame and guilt and falling off the pedestal that she had placed herself upon, shattering her own illusion of dignity and morality in which she had wrapped her personality.

“Hey, you okay girl?” Alabama said with worry in her voice.

“No. I’m going to go home”

“But… it’s not even midnight yet? You not staying up for the New Year?”

“No, I just want to not be awake Al”

“Shite, Ianto’s really upset you hasn’t he? Always was an arsehole. Hey, I’ll tell ye what, I’ll walk you home. Cos, and I’ll let you in on a little secret but don’t anybody, I’m a bit drunk too”

Rosy smiled at that. Alabama, whether intentionally or not, always knew the right thing to say. “Al, you’re absolutely shit-faced”

“No. No, I’m just… squiffy. Women get squiffy, it’s the demure thing don’t you know. Women get squiffy and men get shit-faced. So, I’m only squiffy” Alabama argued, with a triumphant head rise that prompted Rosy’s laugh to emerge.

Then an awkward pause landed in their conversation, like a fly in someone’s drink. They never had awkward moments. For as long as either of either of them could remember, conversation flowed as freely as the drinks had been. But here, they were caught looking at each other’s eyes, unable to think of anything to say that might distract them from this focus. “Come on then girl, we’ll get ye home.”

The walk was long and slow, and somewhat meandering. Alabama may have been under the impression that she was the comparatively sober one, but it was her that was struggling with her coordination, drifting along the pavement in sozzled merriment. Rosy played along, leaning into the slim sliver of intoxication that was affecting her system and staggering with her. Songs were sung, mainly of fairy tales and New York, and laughs were had. But Alabama was the first to wilt and let the conversation drift to the solemn.

“I just think we’ve lost our spark, me and Matty. Relationships are different in the first year, where everything’s new and you’re trying so hard to please them. The moment you start taking that for granted, not always but just sometimes, it stops being fun. I miss trying to win her over. How ungrateful is that? And… and, it’s not like she’s not doing her heavy lifting. Literally, heavy lifting. She’s gotten so fat for me Rosy. It’s so sexy. And everytime we lose our spark, we try to rekindle it with feedings. Is that gross? I bet to a non-FA, that sounds rank. It’s not. It’s awesome. I love it. I love her. But the further we drift apart, the more she eats. One day that won’t be enough. God, she’ll be so fat Al. You know that? Have you seen her? Have you seen how fat she is?”

“Yeah, Al. I’ve seen your girlfriend”

“She’s so fat. Like, so fat. Like a big ball of cake. Nearly 320lbs, she is. That’s 140lbs she’s gained in three years. What about in another three years? And another? Fuck, that makes me horny… wait, I remember the last time you saw Matty. She showed you that book. The Japan one. You know, we tried it? The one that makes you hungry for five hours. It actually works. It’s amazing. Fuck, we should use it more often. She’d get so fat. My big fat sexy Matty. Why is she in Japan? I want her here. I miss her. I love her. I love her Rosy. I love Matty. Matty the fatty! Ha. I should write that down so sober me remembers that in the morning”

“I’ll remember for you Al”

“Oh purleaaassse, you’re more drunk that I am. Drunk as a skunk. Skunks aren’t drunk. Why do people say that drunks are skunk, no, the other one. Skunks are drunk. Jesus, that’s hard to say. Twongue-tister. Geddit! Oh, I love you Rosy. If I wasn’t with Matty, I’d make you so fat. You’d look so cute fat. Like a little, short little ball of fat”

It was at that point that they arrived at the flat, and stumbled and tripped as the unlocked the door and worked their way in.

“We’re in! We’re home. Fuck, I’m going to make some food. Rosy, what do ye wanna eat? Do ye have chips? Or anything unhealthy. I don’t wanna make ye fat Rosy, but I do wanna make ye food that makes ye fat. That’s different. A very important distinctio… aha, chips!”

“Al, thanks, but I just wanna sleep”

“Oh. No chips?”

“No. Sorry. But...”

“But what?”

“Could you hold me? In bed. Just hold me. I want to feel safe, Al. I just want you to hold me”

“Oh. Of course Rosy. Sorry”

And, both girls still clothed, just curled up in bed together. Rosy, unsurprisingly, was the little spoon, and Alabama wrapped herself around her best friend.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend, Rosy?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You’re so pretty, and your hair smells amazing, and you’re so pretty. If I was single, and you were fat, I would so have sex with you. So why don’t you have a boyfriend, Rosy?”

Rosy turned around to look at Alabama as she answered.

“You know why?”

“I do. But I want you to say it. I want you to say why”

“Cos I love you”

“Oh, I wish I was single and you were fat, girl. I’d rescue you. Everytime you fell down, I’d be there to pick you up. And I still will. Always. I’ll always be there to pick you up Rosy. Even if you are skinny.”

“Thanks”

“What do you think you’d look like if you gained weight?”

“I don’t...”

“I reckon you’d be pear-shaped. I bet you’d have such a sweet arse on ye, all plump like fruit. Fruit you can bite into. All here would be fat and wobbly” Alabama said, grabbing the anatomical part in question. “And your stomach. You’d look so sexy with a belly. No, seriously, you would. Like, you’d be there and I’d be here and I wouldn’t be able to get any closer cos this balloon of flesh would be in the way. And your legs. Oh, some weight gain would sort them right out. Imagine… these, but thicker”

Rosy gasped as Alabama grabbed onto them, and let her hand drift slowly up, waiting to see if Rosy would show any resistance. But Rosy had no intention of showing any resistance. She had wanted this for ages. But now, after the day she had and the things she’d experienced and done, it felt a break of sunlight interrupting a downpour. She made a determined effort to cherish this moment forever.

 

 

Current Day

 

 

“You make me right round baby, right round, like a record baby, right round round round” Alabama and Matilda sung together as they lay in bed like the missing ingredient in karaoke was that it should be performed lying down.

“This has been amazing Bam. It really has. I think that, in the past, I may have forgotten how much I love you. But I love you so much. And I’ll love you so much more when you’re my size”

“Your size!” Alabama scoffed and her eyes shot out of her head. “You want me to get that big?”

“Why not? I did”

“Yeah, but you were… y’know… a bit more zaftig to begin with”

“Hang on… are you calling me fat?”

“What? You? Fat? Never. You’re barely 400”

“So you admit 400 is small. So you won’t mind getting there?”

Alabama pulled her head back at this question and looked at her girlfriend with a serious expression.

“Is that actually how fat you want me to get?”

“I mean… it seems only fair”

“Forget fair. What do you want? Cos I’ll do it. Seriously, I will. I love you. If you want me to stop at 120, I will. 150, the same. 180, sure. 200, no problem. Yeah, I’d even go up to 400 if that was what you wanted. So what do you want, Matilda?”

“I mean… I dunno. You never put a number on it with me?”

“That’s because I want to feed you indefinitely.”
“Fuck, you make that sound hot, Bam. Fine, I dunno, until… shite, oh, okay… until I’m the only one who finds you sexy. At 120, people will probably just find you hotter than ever, if they even notice at all. At 150, you’ll probably rock them curves. At 180, people might comment, snicker, make jokes behind your back. But they still wouldn’t say no. At 200, some will drop out, I reckon. At 250, you’ll become more… niche. But, at 300, I think I’ll be the only woman in the world for you, and you’ll be the only woman in the world for me and we can just lie back and get fatter together.” Matty listed, clearly having already thought about it.

“Fuck, you’re right, that sounds really hot”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Well, when are those muffins going to be done, so we can go about getting there”

“Shite! Shitting, arsehole! I must have forgotten to put the timer on, they’ll be burnt now. Fuck! Wait, what’s so funny? Why are you laughing? I thought you...” Matilda laughed at her chortling girlfriend lying in bed.

“Thank fuck. I couldn’t eat another thing if I tried. So I switched the timer off”

“Oh your sneaky arsehole! You are a poor feedee. You know, when I couldn’t eat another thing, what you would make me do? Eat more anyway”

“Well, that just makes you a bad feeder”

“Maybe we both need practice at these new roles. And, speaking of new rolls… shall we see what damage we’ve done over this weekend”

As Matilda rushed off to discard the burnt homemade muffins into the ourdoor bin before they set the fire alarm off, Alabama trudged to the scales. Tentatively, she stepped on and looked at the number.

“So… how big are ye?”

“123”

Matilda waddled into the bathroom where the scale was kept with a big smile on her face.

“Really? That’s… a bit good, right?”

“Yeah, that’s crazy. That’s another 5lbs over just this Saturday and Sunday, 11lbs this week”

“You must have previously just starved yourself skinny and this is your body just bouncing back. So when I said earlier that people will start noticing at 120lbs… I wonder what that Ianto will say to you tomorrow. You’ve got a long way to go though, let’s not rest on your laurels, Bam”

“Hey, our laurels. You’re gaining too. You promised me you’d carry on”

“Fiiine, but I’m pretty hefty already. In case you hadn’t noticed”

“Oh, I’d noticed alright...”

“Wait, Bam, you’re phones going again”

Matilda pointed to the phone on the side lighting up like a Christmas tree due to missed calls and unread messages.

“Rosy can fuck off. This is my weekend with you”

“How long has she been eating?”

“23 hours. But she ate for 15 hours yesterday, so it’s not as scary”

“23 hours Bam! Go see your poor fucking friend! That’s insane. You go help her now! Okay?”

“How about this for a counter-argument...”

 

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

 

Rosy almost cried with relief when she saw Alabama was coming over, replying to the latest in a wave of SOS messages that Rosy had sent as the latest binge went even further out of control than the previous one. It had kicked in not too much later than after she had gotten back from clothes shopping, and hadn’t ceased since then. And, more than anything, it left Rosy tired. Physically and emotionally drained. Her body operating at full pelt to appease this inorganic yearning imposed upon it by some mystical scripture, constantly in a heightened sense of alertness and focus was taking its toll. As was two consecutive nights without any sleep. She hoped it would stop soon if she had any hopes of an early night sleep before another gruelling week juggling work and gorging.

The particular gastronomic affliction this time was cake. 17 hours of burying her face in cake. An almost cliché choice for inflicting calorific suffering from a mind clearly running low on inspiration and high on schadenfreude.

Fortunately, from past experience, she knew the definition of cake could be broad. Teacakes, for example, constituted cake. As did Jaffa cakes, though Rosy considered that controversial, along with all the traditional variants. Cakepops, however, did not cross the ‘cake’ threshold, but Rosy didn’t mind that too much. Amazon Prime meant there was always more cake on the way, and at least Rosy liked cake. And the way she was launching into a red velvet cake was evidence of that.

“Jeez Rosy, you should lock the door while you eat… fuck girl, how much have you eaten?” Alabama said as she stepped into the room and saw the mess it had again descended into.

“Al, you came! Oh, and you to Matilda. Umm… hey, come in, sorry about the mess” Rosy said, possibly blushing though her cheeks were already red from exertion.

“Yeah, we’re here to lend support, wait… are those cakepops? I haven’t seen them since I was a kid” Matilda said, wandering off to grab them.

“Yeah, they didn’t qualify as cakes apparently”

“Ooooo, grab me some too then Matty” Alabama asked as she sat down to watch Rosy eat. And she was astounded. She had seen Rosy eat on a binge before, once, in the Italian restaurant. But that was a fair few days ago and Rosy had stepped up the pace since then. It was almost joylessly mechanical, honed to dead-eyed efficiency, as she blitzed through sponge-based delicacy after another with barely time to breathe between mouthfuls.

“Wait, why do you want some? Why aren’t you letting Matilda have them all? What’s up with you two? You seem… different” Rosy said, though she struggled to focus on images when there was eating to do.

“Oh, nothing. Just the usual. Aww, thanks Matty, these look great” Alabama said, as she took a handful.

“I gotta say Rosy, I haven’t seen you since this started and… how are ye faring? You look like it’s been tough for ye”

“Yeah, I’m really struggling now, to be honest. I’m getting kinda scared. When is it going to end? It’s been over 24 hours straight now, and even the maternity wear that I’m wearing is getting tighter on me”

“Shite, Bam! Is this how she talks? Fuck, this is… does she know what those words can do to a woman like you? Everything she says must be like torture for ye, ye poor soul” Matilda sympathised.

“To be fair, this isn’t how she normally talks. We usually spend more time getting our Agatha Christie on. So, Rosy, you got any new theories or are we still liking Tanni for being the one responsible?” Alabama asked.

“No idea who it is. And I don’t want to confront her in case we’re wrong. It might just be a coincidence and she’s innocent” Rosy protested, rather forthrightly.

“Oh. Okay. I thought we were confident, but if you’re not sure then I guess… wait, Rosy… you’ve stopped eating”

Rosy looked down at her hands to see that they were still, and she began crying tears of joy and relief. She hadn’t even noticed, so automated the action had become, but it was finally over. And it was 25 hours that she had been faced with, and 25 hours that she had overcome.

“Well, Matty and I will get you and this place cleaned up. But, first, do you fancy a trip to the scales? I so wanna see the damage, girl” Alabama said, hugging Matilda affectionately, to make clear that they were a pair and they were both enjoying watch Rosy suffer.

“Yeah, you too do that, and I’ll grab a Seltzer or something for Rosy, cos she’s going to have heartburn from all that, trust me. I’ve been there” Matilda said, as she waddled around the flat looking where she might keep them.

In the meantime, Rosy and Al walked to the scales and saw the number as she stepped on.

“It’s 168lbs Matty! That’s… what, over 60lbs in just one week” Alabama called out from the bathroom.

“Ah feck, I’m sorry to hear that Rosy. I know this is hard for you so I’m sorry for all of this week” Matilda sympathised, though her tone seemed like she was enjoying it. “By the way, do you have any heartburn relief in your handbag? I can’t find any in your drawers”

“No, don’t look in my handbag!” Rosy shouted, her eyes erupting in horror as she said it. But it was too late. Too late to stop her, too late for everything. Matilda walked into the room with Rosy’s trusty extra-large handbag and pulled out from it a purple-covered book with Japanese inscriptions on it.

“Rosy, do you mind telling us what the actual fuck is this doing in your bag?” Matilda asked, holding up a book marked dEATh note.

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And here it ends. Got a bit dark near the end, sorry about that. Hopefully I find enough light to at least provide contrast

Chapter 10 – The Cat’s out the bag (dark epilogue)

 

 

“What the fuck?”

Rosy didn’t even know which one of the two girls it was that asked that rhetorical question, her head was tilted towards the floor in guilt and shame and a longing for the world to just open up where she was and swallow her. Tumbling down into the fiery bowels of Hell sounded just the ticket right now.

“Rosy, have the decency to look at me!” Alabama snarled, and Rosy’ head jerked up, tears in her eyes “W...what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry Al, I’m so sorry. I know it was wrong. I know it was. I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry” she cried, looking at her best friend through the refracted lens of tears.

“Fuck off. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it all week” Matilda chimed in, and the two girls stood close to each other in camaraderie and togetherness. In a weird, distorted way, Rosy had brought the two of them back together again.

“Why? Why Rosy? Was this all to… win me over? You thought I’d leave Matty if you got fat for me?”

“No! No! I wouldn’t do that. I… well, I didn’t want to do that”

“Well, then why?”

“Cos I feel guilty!”

Rosy hoped for catharsis, yelling this out, only for the words to catch on the wind and disappear as soon as they left her mouth. Her great proclamation, the admission of the cost of her guilt, drifting away in front of the crossed arms of two unimpressed girls.

“No”

“What do you mean, no? You don’t know what it’s like, Al! You don’t know what it’s like” Rosy squeaked.

“Yeah, I do. I was the one that cheated on Matty. I know exactly what it feels like. And do you know what you do when you feel guilty? You live with it. That’s the point. That’s the punishment. That I have to look at myself in the mirror every day knowing I cheated on my girlfriend with my best friend. I live with it, and then I try to be the best person again so I don’t hurt anyone else. But this… this is just selfish”

“I came onto you, Al”

“No you didn’t. I was drunk, but I remember it was...”

“I wasn’t drunk”

“Yeah you were, you were fucking...”

“I was just pretending...”

Alabama’s eyes lit with rage, and her hand started shaking, before that rage turned to tears. Matilda’s rage didn’t dissipate, however.

“You were pretending to be drunk so you could fuck my girlfriend, and then you came to me, admitted it so you could clear your conscience, while just failing to mention that you were pretending to be dr… you bitch!”

“It wasn’t a scheme or anything. I didn’t mean to. I was just struggling with something from earlier...”

“So you fucked my girlfriend?”

Rosy didn’t know what to say. All her logic, when trapped in the confines of her head, felt foolproof. But as soon as she shared it, it all got shot down. Her words, just swatted away as the bullshit that she didn’t know they were.

“I’d arrived at the party, and I’d just come from Jack’s office where I had… sucked his.. I’d given him a blowjob and… everything was spinning and… you were the only thing that wasn’t. I didn’t mean to pretend to be drunk, it just...”

“You did what? You sucked Jack’s dick? To get the promotion?” Alabama seethed.

“Yeah. I didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t going to get it. But then he… and I… oh god, I’m a monster, aren’t I?” Rosy’s looked up desperately hoping for reassurance in a place that had no intention of providing it.

“Matty? Can I have a second with her?”

“No. Anything you can say in front of her, you can say in front of me. We have no secrets between us...”

“Please” Al insisted.

Matilda rolled her eyes and shuffled out the room begrudgingly, arms folded in a sulking pose. Once she had left the room, Alabama squatted down onto the floor where Rosy was now curled up in tears and hugging herself, and spat fury at her.

“I sucked his dick for you this week!”

“No. What? You did...” Rosy looked up in horror.

“Don’t act surprised. I told you what I did. You were off eating, all by your own design apparently, and you needed me to get you out of a meeting with him. You asked be to buy you some time, and I did. So I sucked his dick”

“Al, I… I thought you were joking?”

“Well I wasn’t. And I did that for you. For what? So you could lie to me some more? Fuck you Rosy. You felt guilty before, you don’t know the meaning of guilt. I hope you feel fucking guilty now. Mat, come back in, I don’t want to even look at her any more” Alabama got back up and gave her girlfriend a hug, tearfully. She had something, one thing in her life now. Matilda and Alabama just held each other in their arms while Rosy sat on the floor feeling sorry for herself. They then began leafing through the book, seeing all of her entries.

“I don’t remember the book’s covers being quite this dark” Matilda said as they inspected. “How did you steal it?”

“What does it even matter?” Rosy whimpered.

“Yeah, you’re right. Oh shite, this is why she was eating for so long. Look at these entries Al”

Al leant over to see the last to additions to the list of self-harm, and read the entry. There was something chilling about seeing Rosy’s handwriting and those words paired together. Any attempt at cognitive dissonance was pulled apart like yanking at a loose thread to see her writing, in her pen, in her words, scrawled in a line like the financial accounts of a weight gain confession.

 

Rosy Richards – Pizza x3

 

Rosy Richards – Cake x5

 

“You… you knew that… you did this on purpose. You text me while you knew I was trying to repair things with Matty, with garbled, panicked messages about eating for too long… and you’d written in here specifically for that to happen? You did it on purpose? You weren’t scared at all, you know what was happening! You selfish whore. I mean, all of it. I spent the whole week protected you, risking my job for you, being there for you as we look for the culprit and reassure you about the mystery… and it was you all along?”

“No, it wasn’t like that”

“You know what Rosy, you say you did all of this out of guilt, but I’m not sure I believe you. Oh, I believe that you think that you’re doing this out of guilt. But it’s just manipulation. It’s cruelty, that’s what it is. You feel guilty, so you hurt yourself? For what? To punish yourself? Because you deserve it? But what about everyone else, Rosy? What about me, about Matty here? All of us caught in your crossfire. No, this self-mutilation isn’t punishing yourself. It’s making you feel better. It’s like the eating. It’s a release. A release from the guilt. This isn’t about making things even, this is about massaging your own sensitivity. If you really hated yourself, if this was really about your guilt, you’d do nothing. You’d suffer. No, this makes it easy for you. This is you getting off lightly for the things you’ve done. The lies you’ve told. The secrets you’ve kept. You think you’re such a martyr, don’t you? You’re just untold levels of selfish and I hate you Rosy. I hate you. I hate you. But, worst of all, I hate the fact that I still worry about you. I hate the fact that part of me still cares.

And I shouldn’t. You’re poisonous. Toxic. Cancerous. Hurting yourself and not caring who gets infected by your proximity. So I’m going to do what’s best for us. For both of us. I’m going to cut you out from my life. Okay? We’re done. I never want to see you again”

“But… what about at work?”

“Oh, you’re going to have to quit your job. We can’t work together, and why should I lose my job for your… whatever this is. No, you are going to resign with immediate effect, say “the job was just too much for you” or whatever, I truly could not give less of a fuck, and never see me again. And, because I care about you for whatever fucked up reason, I’m taking the book. I’m taking the book so you have to sort yourself out. Get help, or whatever. Move on with your life. Be away from all that ‘guilt’ you seem to be using as an excuse for being an absolute arse. Okay?”

Rosy, through tears, slowly started to nod.

“It’ll be a clean break for all of us. I think that’ll be for the best. It’s what we all need. We’ll put the book back and you sort yourself out Rosy. Before it’s too late. Cos you’re a mess. A dangerous mess. Come on Matty, let’s go. Let’s go and never see this woman again.”

They walked out and left Rosy among her detritus, alone and scared and all of her own doing. Alone with only her guilt for company. Just her, guilt and the faint hum of a still overstocked fridge. She looked around the place and saw only landmarks and epitaphs of every bad decision she had made, and suddenly the well of emotions inside her left her borderline incapacitated, letting out only a whimper. She had broken everything. And for what? For the chance to punish herself for breaking everything. Alabama was right, Rosy needed help, and a clean break. But Rosy wasn’t sure if she could give herself those things.

 

 

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

 

“The boys at the golf club loved you Tanni. Oh, the look on their faces!” Ianto boasted as he kissed his official girlfriend now. He’d left Jill. Finally. Left her to her ice-cream. While he got to play with and claw at young flesh. Sure, she was heart-broken, if beached whales even had fleshed. But it was time for Ianto to start looking after numero uno. No more time pandering and accepting second best, he needed to go out and get the things that he desired.

“Yeah, you know what Ianto, I’m not sure this is going to work between us” Tanni said, completely out of norwhere and interrupting his train of thought, but still smiling. Her eyes seemed to be looking straight through him.

“What? No… I just… why?”

“Oh, it’s just not fun any more. And besides, let’s be honest, I can do a lot better” Tanni said, almost flirtatiously. An irrepressible giggle frothed up to the surface after she said it.

“No. No. How dare you?” Ianto raged, half taken aback and half wondering if this was some elaborate joke. Was this how she joked? She had never joked before. Did she even have a sense of humour? How could she, she didn’t even like Derry Girls.

“Oh don’t give me that. We had fun, what more do you want? Now fuck off Ianto, you’re boring when you’re clingy” she said, pushing him out the door that they had just come through, leaving him shell-shocked. He stumbled out into the street, dizzy with confusion, still trying to reticulate the unfurled mesh of thoughts in his head.

Meanwhile, with a hum of cheer, Tanni flounced back into her house, wielding a big smile on her face and grabbing her dEATh note book, so that she could decide what to do next. Choices, choices, choices. On each page were dozens of different names. And, alongside each one, an entry for ice cream. Millie and ice cream. Josephine and ice cream. Aoife and ice cream. Indira and ice cream. She ran her finger along the book, contemplating who she was going to ruin next, before falling back on one of her old favourites. It was good to fuck things up for people. Like watching birds with broken wings, trying and failing to fly while a hungry snake approaches. And some were more fun than others.

“Fuck you Aisling” she said with a kinky smile, as she added her name once more to the book.

She lay back on her chaise-longue (nicknamed Shane Long, being a true Republic of Ireland football fan) and basked in her own twistedness, when the doorbell rang. Urgh! Fucking Ianto. When would he realise that she didn’t like it when men got clingy with her? They always did it and it bored her. He was so boring, like men’s magazine brought to life. The kind of man who thought humour was insult followed by the word ‘banter’. She opened her door and was about to unleash some sharpened bile all over his face like a hissing snake when she saw somebody she didn’t expect. Rosy Richards, the annoying girl from work. The one who always got her name wrong. And she was looking seriously worse for wear. Hair tousled, clothes shredded, stomach sighing outwards.

“You? What do you want?”

“I need your book”

“What? What book?”

“Your dEATh note book. Please don’t play dumb, I left my patience for bullshit at home. Stolen from Matilda I presume, when you were studying at Trinity College? Using it to fatten Jill and Aisling, and to get Ianto to eat you out? Ring any bells?” Rosy said, in no mood for debate.

“What the fuck happened to you? You look a mess Rosy. And fat. Wait, you think I did that to you? Oh no, that wasn’t me. I mean, I do think you’re an arsehole, but you just were never in my thoughts enough to be considered worthy of an entry. Too boring to break. And no, you can’t have the book”

“No, I know you didn’t do it. I did it to myself. With my own book, that I got off eBay. The pay-rise and bonus for my promotion paid for it. But now I’ve lost mine and I need yours. I need it. And if you don’t give it to me, I’ll tell Ianto about what you’ve been doing. And Jill. I’ll tell all of them” the threats tumbled out of Rosy’s mouth with newfound ease. She had convinced herself it was self-loathing that drove her to this door, flagellating herself for allowing her own world to fall apart. But that wasn’t the only reason. The dark bags in her eyes and her hand crawling at her own arm told another story. She needed it. She needed its release. She was jonesing for a hit of self-destruction.

“Awww, sorry Rosy. But you missed your chance. Sorry, Ianto and I are over, so I don’t care, fatty” Jill pouted mockingly.

“But… I need it”

“For what, to do it to yourself?”

“Yes!”

“Wait, really? You intend to do that to yourself. I didn’t even know you could do that. Fuck me, you’re messed up. I’m… I’m almost impressed. Shit, you’ve got a bit more about you than I realised. A bit more fucked up than I realised. I kinda like it. I tell you what, if you fuck off, I’ll add you to the rota. How does ice cream sound?”

“Rota? You have a rota?”

“Well, just a list of people I do it to. It’s so much fun. I’m having such a blast”

“And don’t you feel guilty?”

“No. Why would I feel guilty? They’re all arseholes and… guilt is boring. Wait, is guilt your thing? Oh, this some Catholic self-loathing routine you’ve got. Well, look, I’m writing your name, so, in a couple of hours, you can punish yourself too. Hurray for Catholicism!”

 

Rosy Richards – Ice Cream

 

“Could you… could you put a ‘times five’ by the side of it? Please? If that’s okay?” Rosy asked, eyeing her entry.

“Wait, you can do that? I truly did not know that you could do that. And then what? Do you eat for five times as long? Oh my god, that sounds awesome. Why did I not know this? Did yours come with an instruction manual. Oh I am going to have so much fun with this. Thanks a million for the heads up. Aisling is about to find herself in the abyss. Hey, here you go, will this encourage you to fuck off?”

 

Rosy Richards – Ice Cream x30

 

“T...times 30?”

“Yeah, get your moneys-worth, why not? Go on maths girl, how big a number’s that?”

“Well, it’s… 30 multiplied by 5, so 150 hours. 120 hours is five days so 144 hours is six days… just over six straight days” Rosy said, unable to hide the smile on her face as she realised.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you? That sounds fucking apocalyptic. Oh, I wish I’d known you were a screw loose earlier, we could have had fun. You know I always thought you were boring”

“I’m not boring. I’m anything but boring”

“Weeeell, you are still a little bit boring. But you’re less dull than I realised so credit to ye for being such a fuck up. It’s weird, properly weird. But it’s entertaining, and isn’t that what counts? Hey, I’ve got a fun idea you might like”

“What’s that”

“And what about if I put an extra zero on it?”

 

Rosy Richards – Ice Cream x300

 

“No, that’s too much. No… don’t do that” Rosy panicked.

“Oh, relax. You’re ruining yourself either way, don’t know what your problem is. This just gets you out of my hair for a bit, because you look like the kinda girl who’d nag me about this, and being nagged is boring. Look, you’ve done so much damage on intermittent, why not turn it up from AC to DC a little?”

“But I might die?”

“Maybe. Who knows? Who cares? It’ll be fun. You may even go with a literal bang. Or not. But, let’s face it, your life is a price I’m willing to pay for some idle amusement. So, fuck off with ye and I’ll see you around, hope you like ice cream”

 

 

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

 

“So, you’re interim CFO?” Matilda said with a smile.

“Yeah, well, Ianto’s been missing a lot of work, what with his affair, so his performance has been dreadful of late. So yeah, interim CFO now Rosy’s gone” Alabama beamed with pride. She didn’t mention how fellating Jack Gielgud back when she did it for Rosy might have curried her some favour. But the promotion had been good. Alabama felt like things were finally righting themselves after being made unsteady by the whirlwind of destruction brought about by her former best friend.

“And you’ve not heard anything from her? Rosy?”

“No, two weeks of radio silence. I feel like this is a new chapter in our lives Matty. Just us against the world. Two high-powered girls living their best lives”

“Well, I think it, and you, deserve a reward. How does lamb stew sound?” Matilda said, pressing herself against her girlfriend. Alabama could feel her intoxicating proximity, and an old rush of sexual energy that she had long forgotten she could feel, charged through her like a freight train.

“It sounds delicious. But first, weigh-ins!”

“Fuck, you’re obsessed” Matilda chuckled as she rolled her eyes. Alabama was nothing if not consistent with her priorities. “Well, you first, skinny arse”

“133lbs” Alabama said with a smile. “Ye girl done good”

She looked the part too. Alabama had always presumed that being thin suited her. With her preference for grey power suits over her tall thin body had given her a striking look that Alabama had spent most of her life feeling somewhat proud over. But things had changed rather rapidly, and she was having to find new, different reasons to be proud.

For example, she had been proud of the looks that she got and the whispers that she heard as she walked by with a snack in her hand. Or the way she could lean back on her chair as she worked or spoke on the phone, with her hand comfortably resting on a pooching stomach that she didn’t previously possess. She took pride in the mushroom cloud muffin top in trousers that no longer needed a belt. But, most of all, she was proud to see the amorous way Matilda looked at her when she regaled all these other causes of pride to her.

“My girl sure has done good. but I think I got ye beat. 442lbs” Matilda gloated.

Truthfully, Alabama had known Matilda’s growth had made a charge for the exosphere. Her body seemed to be strained widthways with skin stretched like too thin dough. She looked constantly pressed up against a clear pane of glass, everything bunched up together awkwardly on her frame. From a lesser perspective, you might say she looked terrible, just a juggernaut of blistered blubber smeared like uncooked cookie dough over an already obese body. Fortunately, Alabama knew better. She knew that Matilda was gorgeous and had never looked better.

“Fuck, I don’t know how you’re gaining so fast?”

“You wanna know the secret?” Matilda said, before drawing herself up to Alabama’s ear. “I’ve been using the book. The dEATh note”

Alabama’s face turned to stone, colour draining from it like it was Pleasantville in reverse.

“You shouldn’t. It’s dangerous. I don’t trust it. You saw what it did to Rosy”

“Oh please, she did that to herself. And so what if it’s a bit dangerous? Dangerous can be fun, it’s sexy. And it’s just five hours of eating, what harm can it do? Besides harm to my figure, that is. And you don’t seem to be complaining about that?”

“You do look lovely and plush, I must say. And are those rolls on your arms knew? Okay, so maybe it’s not sooo bad”

“So, do you fancy a try? Go oooon, it’s just five hours? What harm can it do?”

“Go on then, a try. But that’s all it is”

“You’ll love it, it makes bingeing so much easier. And then maybe we can make it a thing. Evenings and weekends, our little sex and food game. The two of us. Together.”

“Together”

 

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14 hours ago, sk8rboy said:

Would love to have read the epilogue of Rosy, but the story was genuinely so gripping! What and ending too, I guess it's better to leave some things to the imagination! 

Yeah, I'm not sure how I'd give Rosy an epilogue tbh. Her story feels like it was told, just a straight line towards fatness from hereon in, no turning back. Thought I'd leave that to people's imaginations!

If I was to come back to it, I'd look at Tanni, cos I didn't explore her much here. And maybe use her to see how the other characters are doing. I daresay none of them will be thinner!

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