1.

I remember the whole beginning; that part was simple and easy. A gentleman on Harley Street had advertised online for a live-in personal tutor for his niece and nephew. Having recently left my teaching job by mutual consent it seemed like the perfect opportunity. He gave very little detail except their ages and that they were used to being homeschooled. I sent in my CV and was surprised to be called to a meeting in his office the very next day.

 

He was a handsome and kindly spoken man; well dressed in a light blue summer suit and matching tie. He described little but got his key points across sincerely. I was to supply his dearly departed brother’s children with a good general all round education, though, he was keen that I focus on maths. The girl had a keen interest in music and the boy in cooking. It was hence a benefit if I could also teach these subjects. I told him that I could. He asked me very little and the brief conversation only turned to me when he offered polite but fleeting compliments about my youthful good looks, smart appearance, and professional demeanour. He gave me an address in Essex and told me that I start Monday. I suggested that I arrive on Sunday night in order to settle in and he agreed that was an excellent idea. He told me that the children would soon grow to love me and I them. We parted company with a friendly handshake and he wished me all the luck in the world. I left his office full of confidence and a new found belief that real gentlemen still exist in the twenty-first century.

 

It was early evening when I arrived at Bly House, an impressive greystone Victorian folly secludedly situated down a tree lined avenue next to a small fishing lake. I exited my taxi and was greeted by a robust but bubbly looking heavy-set woman who introduced herself as Ms Grose - the children’s cook. She welcomed me with a big hand shake and enquired about my age; twenty eight. She asked no other questions and instructed the taxi driver to carry my bags into the house. There was something very amiably old-fashioned about the whole experience that pleased me greatly.

 

I enquired as to the whereabouts of the children and she informed me that we were bound to bump into them somewhere on the tour of the house. I smiled courteously and was intrigued to acquaint myself with my new surroundings.

 

The entrance hall to Bly house was wide and grand with a high ceiling, dominated by a large central staircase that split in two leading to the bedrooms in the separate wings of the house. Ms Grose said that we would go upstairs later. The hallway was panelled in dark mahogany wood and huge portraits of presumably old owners adorned the walls. I really did feel like I’d stepped back in time. We entered a room on the right and suddenly the house felt a lot more modern.

 

Ms Grose informed me that this was the sitting room. It was painted white, with cream carpets, cream sofas, and a giant ninety two inch TV screen. The room was L-shaped and as we turned the corner I took an almighty fright as I first saw the girl playing the white grand piano. At first I thought that she might be an apparition. She was one of the scruffiest, worst dressed, and fattest girls that I had ever had the misfortune to see. Her shoulders were slouched and her posture so appalling that she had developed one of those humps of fat on the back of her neck that you normally only see on unhealthy people over fifty. This hump appeared to have forced her head low and forwards so that she seemed to be permanently staring down at her enormous misshapen breasts. I wondered who on Earth she could be and what business she could possibly have in a house like this.

 

“Miss Flora, this is your new tutor, the one I told you about.”

 

I couldn’t believe it! This poor lump of dishevelment was the little girl that I was to teach?

 

“Nice to meet you, Miss.”

 

Miss Flora stood to greet me and even attempted a curtsy. Her dumpy legs, though, appeared to be uneven in length, so she slightly lost her balance and stumbled as she did so. As she righted herself and lifted her head as much as she could, I noticed her visibly naked stomach rolls (due to the very ill-informed choice of crop top that she wore) unscrunch and reform to become one of the largest stomachs that I’ve ever had the displeasure to see on a girl. Had she not been so obviously flabby, and painful on the eyes of any boy who might just happen to have been unfortunate to take a second glance at her, then you could easily have mistaken her for pregnant. Why is it that such dumplings are often given such pretty flowery names? I thought. Flora? Really? So unsuitable.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Flora. What a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl.”

 

“Why thank you, Miss. You are also very pretty.”

 

At least she was astute enough to notice that. Ms Grose instructed Flora to return to her piano practice and she sat her heavy rear end back down on the piano stool as we exited the room into a large dining area. Funny, I thought, she is supposed to be practicing yet I had never consciously heard any music coming from the room.

 

The dining room was also modern and white. Its centerpiece was a large white table with twelve chairs around it, though, I’m sure it could easily have fit eighteen. We didn’t stay long in this room as Ms Grose was keen to show me her kitchen. The kitchen was once again older looking, classic country in style, it also had a large table at its centre, this time made of pine, and more cupboards than I could count. Ms Grose spent too long explaining all the intricacies of the multifarious equipment, which I began to suspect she used to overfeed both herself and Flora, but she was clearly keen on her job and I saw no doubt to judge her expertise in the culinary field.

 

In the corner of the kitchen was a small set of spiral wooden stairs which she led down to a large basement. I was surprised when we entered an indoor swimming pool and spa area. I asked her when this had been added and she said towards the end of the last century. So surprised was I by such a modern luxury in such an old house that at first I totally failed to notice the boy relaxing on a sunbed at the far end of the pool. Once I took note of him, though, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

 

Miles was reading a book so failed to notice the two of us approaching, giving me a good chance to study him carefully and take him in in all his glory. A more handsome boy I never did see. He was also overweight but wore it much better than his younger sister. Most of his addition clung to his abdomen in the shape of a firm round ball-gut. The sides of and front of which hung heavily over the sides of his tight blue swimming shorts. His damp body glistened under the low phosphorus lights highlighting his silky smooth tan and gentle coating of white hairs that adorned his perfectly formed arms and legs. I noticed a small trail of these hairs climbing from the front of his shorts up to his deep navel. His soft but still well-shaped chest also contained a smattering of light hairs. I wondered if this was a sign of his tender years, but inspection of his face told me that was not the case. Miles was a well groomed and beautiful boy, who took real pride in his appearance. I guessed correctly that he shaved and oiled himself all over - on at least a weekly basis. His brown hair was gelled perfectly into a side parting with a small quiff at the front, despite the fact that he had clearly only recently exited the pool. His eyes were a piercing blue, more tempting than the water by which he sat. He smiled cheekily, pushing his ever so slightly chubby and dimpled cheeks out. I almost felt myself swoon. I was now stood right next to him. Something in his book made him giggle out loud and he broke into an even bigger heart-warming smile. He lowered his book and laid it upside down, pages open, on the top of his belly. It rested perfectly and moved gently up and down with his slow breaths. I read the author's name but not the title; John Kennedy O’Toole. He turned and smiled at me.

 

“Hello,” he said simply; the kindness of his tone reminded me immediately of his gentlemanly uncle.

 

“Hello Miles,” I replied, “I’m your new tutor, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

 

He collected the book from his wonderfully curved belly and placed it face down on the sunbed as he swung his legs over to my side and rose smoothly to shake my hand. As he bent over to stand his belly folded in on itself, and he winced slightly, before it reshaped in a similar manner to his sister’s. It formed a gloriously fat globe as he straightened up fully. It was hard to know which one of them was fatter, and both or either of them could have been heavily pregnant; but I knew which one carried it better.

 

Once standing fully erect his belly flattened out just a tiny little bit and he appeared to be in complete comfort again. I noted his broad but well proportioned shoulders. Somewhere beneath the soft layers of fat, young strong muscles were still flexing in his arms and legs. He was more like a football player than a rugby player in build. It was only his belly that suggested a strong disinterest in either sport.

 

I blinked as I realised that he was speaking to me again;

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. My uncle has told me all about you. Though he never mentioned how pretty you were. I really am looking forward to our lessons and time together.”

 

I have to admit that I blushed slightly and stumbled over what to say. It wasn’t that his uncle knew nothing about me, so I had no idea what Miles had been told - it was his calm and soothing voice, his lush soft skin tone, his plush, thickly swollen abdomen, his startlingly beautiful eyes - his overall appearance of a heavily bloated adonis.

 

“Erm, well, thank you. I look forward to it as well. I, er, see that you like to read?”

 

“Oh yes, it’s nothing serious, just a little comedy that was recommended to me. Do you like O’Toole, Miss?”

 

I had to be honest and admit that I had never read him. Miles smiled at me and showed no signs of displeasure or disappointment. I was worried that my honesty in admitting having not read someone that he had, might already begin to undermine my position as his teacher. If he thought such a thing, though, Miles was far too much of a gentleman to show any sign of it.

 

“Well, if you like, Miss, I could write you a book report on it. I really think that you would like the themes that he explores in the novel. Would you like me to explain some of them to you?”

 

“No thank you, Miles. That’s very kind of you and I would love to hear all about it but it’s a Sunday evening so I wouldn’t want to impose on your personal time like that. I think that a book report is a great idea. I’d be very interested to read your thoughts.”

 

“Very well, Miss.”

 

Miles turned his attention to Ms Grose who had been waiting very patiently for us to finish our little repertoire.

 

“May I ask what time dinner is, Ms Grose? I’m starting to feel a little peckish.”

 

“Eight o’clock in the dining room as always, Miles.” Ms Grose replied.

 

“And will our new guest be joining us?”

 

“That’s very kind of you both but I’m very tired and ate on the train up here. I think I would rather just go to my room and settle in.”

 

I hadn’t even finished speaking when I felt a sudden chill enter the room. Both Miles and Ms Grose were clearly trying to hide their feelings of consternation behind their now all too obviously fake smiles. Knowing that I had somehow offended them I back tracked.

 

“On the other hand, I could maybe manage a light snack. A meal would be an excellent opportunity to get to know you all better before we begin in earnest tomorrow.”

 

The warm smiles returned and an uneasy feeling rumbled in my stomach as Ms Grose led me away from Miles to show me to my room. There was something uncanny about this overfed threesome that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Any subconscious concerns soon left me when Miles spoke once more:

 

“I really am hungry,” he said, holding his right hand over the top of his belly in order to somehow demonstrate this.

 

“Don’t worry, Miles, there will be plenty of courses as usual!” Ms Grose appeased him.

 

He smiled kindly at his cook and gave me a cheeky parting wink as we exited the pool area to head back up the stairs. He really was the most beautiful thing I ever had seen. I wondered how he and his sister could be so different yet so alike at the same time?

 

2.

Ms Grose left me alone in my room so that she could go and prepare the dinner. The room wasn’t at all what I had expected. It wasn’t even a real bedroom. Apparently the living quarters for staff, of which there used to be many, were in poor overall condition, so it was decided that I would be better off sleeping downstairs in the conservatory. This room led off from the library, which was on the opposite side of the main entrance hall to the sitting room in which I had first been led. I could see that real effort had been taken in order to turn this sunroom into a makeshift bedroom but it still felt slightly off. New blinds had been fitted in order to keep the early morning glow out of my eyes and a large four-poster bed had been placed centrally in the room as that was the only part of the conservatory where the ceiling was high enough to accommodate it. The bed was the comfiest that I had ever lay on. I stared up at the slowly darkening sky and remembered that there was one thing I needed to check before changing for dinner.

 

I withdrew my laptop from my bag and paired it to my phone as I had yet to ascertain the wifi password. I opened my emails and searched for the job advertisement. I had sworn that it stated that the age of the children was six and nine. This is why I was so shocked upon first sight of the lumpy teenage Flora. And although Miles’s appearance pleased me a lot more, I had been trying to avoid working with teenage boys after the experience at my previous school. I had been looking forward to working with younger children.

 

I found the right email and clicked on it; sixteen and nineteen. I blinked and read it again, but the numbers didn’t change. Flora, 16, and Miles, 19. I must have been so keen in applying for the job that my brain had blocked this key information out? Or had I willfully misread it? I didn’t want to think about the second option so instead focused on wondering why a nineteen year old was still studying for school? This was a mystery that I would have to approach with the utmost caution.

 

I arrived in the dining room at just after eight o’clock, surprised to see Flora and Miles already sitting and waiting for Ms Grose to serve them. They sat opposite each other at the top end of the table on the long sides. Flora still looked as dishevelled as when she had been practising the piano. Her head flopped forward, her heavy looking eyes bulged down, still seemingly staring at her large wonky chest. Her fat rolls were also still on display as she hadn’t bothered to change out of the ill-advised and ill-fitting crop top.

 

Miles on the other hand was dressed impeccably. His freshly washed hair was fluffier and livelier than when he had been by the pool, yet it was still perfectly combed, and styled to suit his soft handsome face. He smelt of coconut oil and seemed so smooth. He wore a pair of black dress trousers and black leather shoes, alongside a dark blue evening shirt that fit him perfectly. The arms were exactly the right length, as his cuffs reached his wrists even when sitting and leaning forward to reach his glass of pre-dinner sherry. I wondered if it was tailor made, based on how well it pressed against his unusual form. It sat loose, but not too loose on his shoulders, wrapped itself comfortably around his chest, and then most impressively of all, curved out over his arching ball gut, which with his excellent dining posture, barrelled further out into his lap than I had noticed it doing earlier. Yet still at no point did the shirt appear to be too tight or too loose. It was not creased or scrunched up, and Miles was able to move around freely in it without ever risking it untucking from under his overhanging hips; which the shirts of most men with a paunch of his size would almost certainly have done.

 

I took a seat next to him and both of my new students greeted me warmly.

 

Miles graciously poured me a glass of sherry and I thanked him kindly. I took a sip and was pleasantly surprised by just how sweet it was. I was about to ask Flora if she liked the sherry when I noticed that she was slugging from a can of Pepsi. I decided to stay quiet.

 

Ms Grose entered the room pushing a tray full of hors ‘d'oeuvre. I was honestly shocked at the selection and quality on offer. Ms Grose enlightened us all to the delights on offer:

 

“Canapés: Beer Battered Barramundi over pan-fried Brioche infused with hickory smoked crème, chives & fresh Persian mint. And Amuse-Bouche: Short Rib Bao-Bun San Marzano jam, sofrito aioli, charred apples & manuka honey.”

 

“They look wonderful as ever!” Miles politely told Ms Grose, who truly seemed to appreciate the compliment.

 

“Yes, wonderful!” I repeated with a little too much gusto. I wasn’t really hungry and was already starting to dread the amount of food that I assumed to be coming my way based on the size of all three of them.

 

Ms Grose looked at me and gave me a polite nod. To my surprise she laid the hor 'd'oeuvres out on my and Miles' side of the table and informed Flora that her burger and chips would be coming soon.

 

“Gosh!” I said, “There’s enough here to feed ten people!”

 

Miles smiled knowingly at me but said nothing. He just leaned forward and helped himself. I followed his lead but only took one of each kind. Ms Grose disappeared back to the kitchen.

 

I chewed the small aperitifs as slowly as I could. They really were delicious. It was important though that I didn’t fill up on them. Luckily for me Miles ate his own and most of my share. I watched as he impressively munched them down one by one, barely halting for breath. Soon there were only a few left:

 

“Are you sure you don’t want anymore, Miss? They’re important to build up your appetite for the following courses.”

 

“No thank you, Miles. Like I said earlier, I ate on the train so I don't want to ruin my appetite. Ms Grose has clearly gone out of her way to prepare this wonderful meal and I’d hate to let her down by being unable to finish it.”

 

“That’s very gracious of you,” he said, as he unhesitatingly reached for the last remaining bites.

 

Ms Grose returned with the trolley containing Flora’s burger and chips, and pot of Bisque soup with Wild Mushroom fine herbs, Yuzu Truffle & Crispy Onions. She introduced the course in the same manner as the first and expertly laid two large soup bowls in front of myself and Miles. I wondered where she had been trained in silver service but knew not to ask. The pot of soup was placed once more within easy reach of Miles and myself.

 

The soup was rich and flavoursome but I once more knew that I couldn’t eat much of it. Miles, ever the gentleman, offered me the ladle first and I scooped a measly half measure into my bowl. I noticed a slight frown, not quite a scowl, appear on his normally crease-free forehead and guiltily took another scoop.

 

“My you’re really not hungry, are you?” He asked as he tipped multiple ladles full into his bowl.

 

I was so preoccupied watching Miles greedily suck down every spoon full of soup that I failed to notice that Flora had already finished her burger and chips. It was only the reappearance of Ms Grose in order to supply her with an identical second plate that brought the unkempt frumpy ball of fat back to my attention. I lifted my eyes and watched as she gnawed away at the sesame bun like a rat, blissfully unaware that I was watching, due to her constantly low-hanging head.

 

Miles noticed me observing his sister and spoke so as to give explanation:

 

“Flora doesn’t like all of this, what she calls, posh nosh. She says that simple food is better for the soul.”

 

Flora glanced in the direction of her much more elegant brother and said, “Food is food. I just prefer to keep it simple.”

 

Fearing an outbreak of sibling rivalry, I commented, “I couldn’t agree more Flora. As delicious as this meal is and undoubtedly will continue to be, a part of me would have been just as happy with burger and chips.”

 

“I also like burgers and chips!” Miles blurted out suddenly. It was clear to me at this point that although he had the body of a splendid young gentleman, there was still a little boy somewhere inside of Miles - fighting to be let out.

 

I looked down at his expansive gut and said: “I’m sure you do, Miles.” He smiled and seemed very pleased with the underhand compliment.

 

Just as Flora finished her second plate and Miles licked the last of the soup from his spoon, Ms Grose reentered with the trolley. She piled the empty dishes onto the bottom shelf and presented the third course:

 

“Salads: Baby Gem Caesar shaved radishes, garlic & lemon croutons, for your enjoyment.”

 

I was grateful to see the greenery and took a slightly larger portion than I had of the first two courses. This seemed to please Miles who smiled weakly at me as he helped himself to a supersized amount. Flora got a third burger.

 

As I was eating, I must have been unconsciously watching Miles too much. He looked straight into my eyes as if trying to assess what I was thinking and then guessed correctly. This was a relief, maybe I had unwittingly given him a quizzical look, but he saved me the embarrassment of having to broach the subject myself.

 

“It’s important to eat healthily,” he declared, “I enjoy my fruits and salads just as much as I enjoy the rest of my food.”

 

Upon completion of this sentence he gave his rounded out belly a cheeky pat and I watched intensely as the layer of fat on the top of it jiggled slightly. I wondered if he did indeed look a little bit bigger. Surely consuming this much would start to show soon?

 

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said after I’d swallowed a few leaves. “A well balanced diet is incredibly important in order to grow both the body and mind.”

 

Miles gave his distended belly a pat and nodded in agreement.

 

“Hmmph!” Flora said.

 

Worried that I had inadvertently offended the Pepsi swilling, burger munching, swamp monster, I offered her some words of comfort.

 

“The salad on your burger counts just as much, all greenery counts!”

 

Miles laid a large young smooth hand on my knee. Nothing inappropriate. He left it there for just a few seconds to let me know that I was over-reaching and that it was better to say nothing. Flora just kept eating her burgers.

 

Once he removed his hand, a felt like a slightly awkward silence had fell upon the room so I stupidly asked the one question that I had been avoiding since the start of the meal:

 

“How many courses are there, actually?”

 

This question was not only rude but terribly mistimed as Ms Grose heard it just as she reentered with the fish course.

 

“Do you not like my cooking?” She asked abruptly. Her tone taking me by surprise.

 

“Oh, Ms Grose! I’m so sorry! Of course I do! It’s all been simply delicious! It’s just that I am not used to such lavish elegance, and as I stated earlier I already ate on the train. I really didn’t mean to insinuate anything. Everything has been just wonderful!”

 

“Thank you, dear,” Ms Grose said, her tone now much calmer. I was pleased that my words seemed to allow her to recover her composure.

 

“You must tell us exactly what kind of fish it is?”

 

Miles placed his hand on my knee again and gave it a little squeeze. I felt so warm and tingly. He was such a gentleman to discreetly let me know that I had recovered well.

 

“Salt Crusted Sea Bass seared and wrapped in wood paper, with Sauce Velouté over tossed lemon bok-choy.”

 

“My favourite! You really do spoil me, Ms Grose!” Miles declared as his obviously ever diligent cook placed a whole sea bass in front of him.

 

Ms Grose looked exceedingly pleased with this comment and rewarded Miles with a loving pinch and shake of his chubby dimpled cheek.

 

“Nothings too good for my growing boy,” She said before leaving once more.

 

I looked at the whole sea bass on the large oval plate in front of me. In any restaurant this would have been an entrée. I had no idea how I was going to eat all of it and then a main course. My stomach was already complaining at me.

 

In order to save a few seconds before digging in, I looked over to Miles’ plate. He was busy holding the fish up by the tail with his left hand. It hung limp and lifeless in stark contrast to the beaming, jovial, life-filled, young man about to de-bone and devour it. He picked up his fish knife and with a flick of the wrist so quick and smooth that I couldn’t quite work out exactly how he’d done it, he sliced the entire spine and rib cage out of the fish in one movement so that he was holding the bones, totally intact, in one hand and the juicy fish in the other. He winked at me and laid the bones down on a large napkin next to his plate that he must have pre-prepared without my noticing. He lay the fish back on his plate and offered to do the same for me. I graciously accepted. He seemed very proud and happy to be able to help a lady out so. I think that it made him feel like a real fine young gentleman.

 

I thanked him and began to carve small portions out of the fish and move them around on my plate before taking the smallest of tiny bites. Miles of course devoured the entire fish in no time at all. I was still slowly working my way through the main part of the fillet when I noticed that he was greedily working his knife around the inside of the head, desperately trying to cut the tiniest last morsels of salty white meat out from behind the eyeballs.

 

As he swallowed the final remaining parts of the fish’s head, I noticed that he did a little burp. It was only small, and well controlled, and he expertly covered his mouth with his napkin in order to muffle it. It was so sweet to see a young man with such good manners. He noticed me looking and immediately apologised:

 

“Forgive me, that was uncouth, I do apologise, Miss. I must have just had a bit of trapped gas.”

 

I couldn’t help but look down at his belly. There was no question about it now, it was certainly bigger. I could tell this as the once well-fitting shirt was now a little stretched over the crown of his belly and the tiniest bit of overhanging side fat, with the deftest of small white hairs, was just visible where the shirt had begun to rise up out of his trousers. He must’ve noticed me looking because I saw him breath in to try and create the space to tuck it back in. I tried desperately to hide my disappointment.

 

I should mention that during this time, Flora had made her way onto her fifth burger. My question about the number of courses still unanswered, I wondered just how many she was going to eat.

 

As if he could read my mind, Miles nudged me, and whispered: “Seven courses, there are always seven courses.”

 

“Everyday?” I whispered back.

 

“Of course,” he said, “Isn’t that normal? Evening dinner is always seven courses?”

 

“In a very expensive restaurant,” I told him.

 

He seemed to ponder on this for a moment: “I guess this is what people mean by white privilege?” He laughed loudly, causing his chubby cheeks and ball gut to shake.

 

I smiled at his immature joke: “I guess so,” I said.

 

Ms Grose cleared up the plates and fish bones. She gave my half-empty plate a look of disgust but refrained from saying anything. The entrée was presented next:

 

“Hours Prime Rib-Eye pan fried Foie-Gras; topped with sauce Béarnaise, paired with Caramelized Cauliflower Gnocchi with a heirloom tomato and garlic sauce, and charred broccoli.”

 

Much to my amazement I heard Miles’ stomach rumble in anticipation. I guess he really meant it when he said that the early courses were designed to work up his appetite. The plates presented to us were also huge. I had no idea how anyone could ever eat this much food in one sitting, let alone on a daily basis.

 

As the master of the house, despite his young age, Ms Grose waited for Miles to taste the main course and give his approval before she left to once more fetch Flora another burger. I watched him as he delicately cut his steak knife into the thickest selection of the finest piece of meat. He lifted a large chunk up with his fork and savoured all of the flavours as he rolled it on his greedy tongue. “Delectable!” he declared, before launching in to devour the rest of it in double quick time.

 

Despite the speed with which he ate, Miles never once lost control of his good charm, wit, and overall excellent table manners. He reminded me of something that my Granny used to say; “It’s important for a young man to feed well.”

 

Flora, on the other hand, whilst not exactly lacking in manners, certainly lacked charm. She spoke rarely, often only when directly asked something, gave short answers, and showed a general disinterest in everything except for her burgers. Her stomach, flagrantly on display, also appeared to be swollen. This fact was given away by the red patch forming on the top left hand side of it, exactly where, any good biology student would be able to tell you, her stomach bag lay. I wondered if she could literally eat enough burgers to make it burst?

 

Miles engaged me in pleasant conversation as we ate, though I hate to admit that I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what he was saying. Firstly, my own stomach ached something rotten. I was really forcing my way through my foie-gras. It felt such a shame to waste such an elegant and expensive dish, but I really was on the verge of fearing being sick. Secondly, something about Miles’ ever hungry stomach enthralled me. It was so vast and so large, and so out of place on such a good looking boy of his age, that there really was something uncanny about it. I was just thinking this when I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye move past the large bowed window to my right.

 

The sun had now set, and twilight was settling in. Where at the start of the meal there was a gorgeous view of the sculptured gardens leading to the fishing lake, now there was only a dark purple haze, and the outline of a few branches bending in the wind. And a face. I let out a small but sudden shriek.

 

“What’s wrong? What is it? Are you choking?” Miles asked in real concern.

 

I pointed, horrified out of the window. Even Flora lifted her head and turned around to see. But it was already gone.

 

“What was it?” Miles asked again. He even put down his fork.

 

“There was something, someone, out there,” I said through laboured breaths.

 

“No,” Miles said calmly, “There can’t have been. The electronic gate auto-locks at sundown and there aren’t any staff here except for you and Ms Grose.”

 

I looked at Miles, still in shock. He misread my expression on this occasion: “I’m sorry, Miss. That was rude. I didn’t mean to refer to you like that, I’m sure that you will become a valuable part of this family. You seem exceedingly nice.”

 

I was perplexed. How had he referred to me? For the first time that evening Flora spoke without being spoken to first:

 

“He referred to you as ‘staff’. Which is incredibly discourteous, considering your position as our teacher. You are our superior, not the other way around, and I would caution my overly familiar brother to remember that!”

 

I was surprised to hear the frumpy blob of lard speak so eloquently about correct morals and manners. Afterall, it was she who was so incongruously dressed for the dinner table, and she who had refused every fine course offered to her in exchange for Pepsi, chips, and burgers. However, she was correct. Miles should not have referred to me as staff. I gave him a scolding look and he apologised once more.

 

I told him that it was alright and that overall he had been the perfect gentleman host. This appeared to pick his spirits back up and he returned his attention to his knife and fork.

 

The dessert course was: “Volcano Granny Smith Apple coconut crumble crust, strawberry field salsa and refreshing vanilla ice cream simmering in a hot pan.” Or so it was described by Ms Grose. What she neglected to say was that it was the entire pie.

 

Big enough to serve twelve with ease, she sliced it into three enormous but equal pieces and laid them out on dinner plates in front of us. It seemed that Flora was willing to partake of posh nosh when it was full of sugar and smothered in ice cream.

 

I watched the two gluttonous siblings greedily gulp down spoonful after spoonful. I sat and watched the ice cream melt over my delicious smelling warm pie. My insides were now a total agony, and the thought of eating even one tiny mouthful of the pie made me think that I might have an accident of the bathroom nature. I quietly and gently inched my heavy plate a teeny bit closer to the corpulent teen beside me. He looked up and immediately took the hint. His hefty but well-shaped right hand grazed the edge of my breast and as he began to slowly inch my plate towards him.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered, “You are a real gentleman saving me like this, but I can’t possibly eat another ounce, and I really don’t wish to offend Ms Grose again.”

 

MIles just nodded and smiled at me. He lifted my plate and with one swift movement of his spoon emptied my entire third of the pie onto his already empty plate. I watched him dig his spoon into the fresh mound of boiled sugar apples, pastry, and melted ice cream, and took real joy in seeing the young gentleman consume all of it for me. As he indulged I once more noticed that his shirt had ridden up out of his trousers. There would be no tucking it back in this time, though. His immense food-laden gut had swollen significantly since the start of dinner, causing his shirt to rise higher and higher. The bottom of his belly was now exposed from every angle, a full three hundred and sixty degrees. I noticed a small bead of sweat drip down his lower back and down into the crevice of his trousers. It was the only sign that I’d seen all night of him struggling or straining to eat.

 

As he finished an entire two thirds of the pie; I thanked them both for a wonderful night and made my apologies for not staying for coffee and cakes. I really was tired and feeling very sick due to the vast amount that I had eaten, through sheer politeness, and wanted nothing more than to visit the bathroom and go to bed. I think that both of the siblings could see that I was done, as they made no efforts to persuade me to stay. I removed myself from the table and took a quick glance out of the window to convince myself that there really was nothing there before leaving the room. As I did so, I heard Flora snidely remark:

 

“Teacher’s pet! Why have you always got to be the teacher’s pet?” I heard Miles retort something about female teachers, and anyway that wasn’t the case at school, was it? I was confused by this last utterance as I had been led to believe that both children had always been home-schooled. Maybe I misheard? I said to myself. I was so tired and my stomach ached so very much!

 

3.

I don’t know what time it was when I awoke, but it was still dark outside. After experiencing some severe bathroom discomfort, I had quickly fallen asleep without drawing the blinds. I could hence just about make out the form peering in through the conservatory window. It was short and relatively squat. Its eyes burned at the sight of me, and me at the sight of it. I held my breath and lay as still as a corpse, my brain frantically trying to figure out who or what it was? It looked relatively plump and at one point seemed to wiggle its hips. But there were no distinguishing features - just an outline. An uncertain sense of dread overcame me and I held my eyes closed, as tightly as I could, and began to count to ten. I got to twenty before I opened them again and it was gone.

 

I was still lying petrified almost half an hour later when the sun started to come up. In the light of the new day I felt my nerves return to me and I decided to get up and prepare for the first day's lesson.

 

Fully dressed and showered the apparition began to slink from my mind, as my fear eased and my focus fell upon the day ahead. I went into the adjoining library, which was also to serve as my classroom, and busied myself laying out pencils and papers. I searched the shelves and found a copy of the book that Miles had been reading and placed it on the desk that I had prepared for him. Once I was content that everything was ready for our morning introduction I made my way to the dinning room where Flora was already up and eating her breakfast.

 

Flora was dressed in the same awful crop top and shorts from the previous day. I knew them to be the same because they were stained with apple pie. It was hard to say but she appeared to be a few pounds heavier then when we had been introduced, but given the amount of burgers I had seen her consume, that wasn’t really unexpected. As I walked past her I got a whiff of her unwashed hair and body odour. I would somehow have to do something about that. The young lady clearly needed educating in the hygiene department, but that would have to wait until we had built a much stronger rapport.

 

I took the seat opposite her, which Miles had been sitting in the night before, and reached forward to help myself to some toast and jam that was perfectly displayed in a silver rack. As I leant forward I felt a pang in my stomach and winced slightly. I gave my stomach a little poke and felt an extra layer of soft fat that wasn’t previously there. I sighed, and wondered how much weight I would gain if I didn’t find a way out of nightly seven course meals. I munched slowly on my toast. It was still warm and tasted much better than I had expected. Flora was silent so I decided to break the ice and speak to her:

 

“How are you doing this fine morning?” I asked.

 

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said.

 

She offered nothing more so I asked her another question: “Where is Miles this morning? I would have thought he’d be up by now and joining us for breakfast?”

 

“I don’t know. He is usually here by now.”

 

Her eyes shifted around the room in an uncomfortable movement. It suggested to me that she wished that her brother was present so that I would talk to him instead. I then remembered the teacher’s pet comment, that I had overheard the previous night, and thought it best that he wasn’t actually there. Flora was the one that I needed to ingratiate. The affable Miles was too easy.

 

“Does he often miss breakfast?” I enquired.

 

“Does he look like he often misses breakfast?”

 

I didn’t respond. It was a mistake to mention Miles again. I kicked myself. I needed to build rapport with her, constantly talking about her brother would only push us further apart, but I really did have no idea what to ask her.

 

“I really do think I saw someone outside last night, you know?”

 

Flora looked at me with interest. “Are you sure?” she asked.

 

“Yes. I even think I saw the same person outside my room during the night.”

 

Flora leant forward: “What did they look like?”

 

“It’s hard to explain. It’s like they were there but also not there. I was sure that they were looking at me.”

 

“Yeah, but what did they look like?”

 

“Oh, well, I guess, kind of short, not fat, but plump. Kind of pear-shaped.”

 

“Like a curvy woman?”

 

“Yes and no. It wasn’t a woman.”

 

“Was it a man?”

 

“I don’t think so. It really was hard to tell. All I could make out was the outline and the eyes.”

 

“So you were visited by a short, sexless, troll?”

 

“Not a troll, it was more human than that.”

 

“They, you mean, they.”

 

“What?”

 

“If you are unsure of someone’s gender, like if they are trans or non-binary, then you refer to them as they, not it! That’s extremely rude.”

 

“So you believe that I saw a real person, then?”

 

“I think that you may have seen Danni.” She said it so matter of factly that I was perplexed. Last night she seemed not to believe me, yet here she was giving a name to my apparition.

 

“Who’s Danny?” I asked.

 

“You’re saying it wrong. It’s with an i not a y. You need to put the emphasis on the ni, Dan-ni, rather than Dan-y.” Now she was correcting my pronunciation! She must actually know this person.

 

“Sorry, who is Danni?”

 

“It’s Miles’ old room mate from school. They died.”

 

“They what?”

 

“Now then, Flora, how times have I told you not to go around spreading rumours!” Ms Grose interrupted us - just at the key point. “It’s not ladylike to go around telling ghost stories Especially not at the breakfast table.. Isn’t that right, Miss?”

 

I answered in the affirmative, and then went back to eating my toast. It really was delicious. I had six rounds with melted butter and jam, before it was time to begin the lesson.

 

Flora and myself entered the library cum classroom fully expecting to see Miles waiting there for us - but he was nowhere to be seen. Flora said that she would go and find Ms Grose and that it really was unusual for Miles to be late. A few minutes later Flora and Ms Grose came back bearing bad news.

 

Apparently Miles had taken ill with stomach troubles in the night and wouldn’t be able to make the morning’s lesson. Ms Grose said that he would hopefully be down in time for lunch and that I should continue with just Miss Flora. I waited for her to leave and then informed Flora that I was going to Miles’ bedroom to see what was wrong with him myself. Flora insisted that was a bad idea but I was having none of it. Yes, I had already taken to Miles, he was a nice young gentleman; however, I had already been teaching for long enough to know that you have to be clear about expectations from day one and I wasn’t believing a word of this ‘stomach troubles’ story. There was nothing wrong with the boy’s stomach! He had demonstrated that perfectly well during the night!

 

I climbed the large staircase in the main entrance hall and turned to the right, knowing well that the closed off servants quarters were to the left. Unsure which door was his, I felt unable to knock in case I alerted him to my presence, so I gently opened each one. It was behind the fourth door that I got the shock of my life.

 

Miles was sitting up on his bed, cushioned by multiple pillows, his legs splayed open in order to accommodate his insanely large stomach, which he was cradling like a baby. His belly was at least three times larger than it was the previous night when he had left me. I had no idea how it was possible for his stomach, for anyone’s stomach for that matter, to swell that much that quickly? He clung on to his belly as he rocked back and forth, clearly in incredible discomfort. His belly was cartoonishly large and sat on the bed in front of him reaching down to his knees. He looked like he’d eaten a horse; literally.

 

“Miles, what on earth is wrong?”

 

Until I spoke, he hadn’t noticed me. He looked up, tears of pain in his glinting blue eyes. He attempted a smile that accidentally came across as kind of wicked.

 

“I don’t know, Miss. I think I ate too much!”

 

“You ate a lot, Miles, but you seemed fine when I left you after dinner.”

 

“Yes, Miss, I was…” he continued to roll back and forth, clutching onto the sides of his immense abdominal ball of fat. I thought I saw something in his belly move, but he spoke again before I could be sure. “...I continued to eat after you went to sleep, Miss!”

 

“Really?” I was genuinely shocked. The seven course dinner was more than enough for anyone, even a boy as gluttonous as this one. He peered directly at me with one eye.

 

“Yes, Miss. I think I’ve eaten too much!”

 

“I would say so, Master Miles.” I used his title so as to stamp my authority. “This is what happens to little boys whose eyes are bigger than their bellies!”

 

He cringed in pain, which could easily have been mistaken for a smirk, had I not known better.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss. Am I late for class?”

 

“Yes, you are. Now I know that we are only just getting to know each other, but you need to understand that I am a stickler for punctuality. I hate nothing more than tardiness!”

 

“Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss. I think I might be okay in a bit if I can just go to the toilet. Something that I ate really wants to get out, Miss!”

 

“I have no time for lavatorial talk either, young boy. Now you do what you need to do and I expect to see you down at your desk as soon as possible. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss. Sorry Miss. I’ll be more careful in the future with what I eat, Miss!”

 

I knew that the last sentence he spoke was the most obvious lie in all of history! But there was no point in calling him out on it now. He was clearly paying the price for his overindulgence.

 

As I turned my back on him in order to leave he spoke once more.

 

“I was just trying to make a good impression on you, Miss!”

 

I turned and smiled at him: “I know, I know Miles. You’re a good boy really. And I can assure you that you made a very good impression on me last night.”

 

Miles gave another wince or wicked smile; it was hard to tell which.

 

4.

Miles came down from his chamber just in time for lunch. Exactly as Ms Grose had predicted. The change in him was as extraordinary as the one that I had witnessed that morning in his chamber. His belly had shrunk right back down to its previous size, maybe plus a pound or two, and his appearance and demeanour were as calm and clean-cut as they had been the previous day. He wore short trousers of the kind that school boys a few years younger than himself used to be required to, and had on a newly pressed white dress-shirt which like the blue one he had worn the previous night fit him to a tee. He was freshly showered, smelt of pine fresh aftershave, and every hair on his head was once more neatly combed and waxed into place. Quite frankly; he looked like he’d never been sick at all.

 

He entered the dining room beaming from ear to ear and tucked into the tuna sandwiches as if he hadn’t eaten in a month. There was something truly magical and addicting about him. I would have pondered more on his miraculous recovery had I not been so distracted by the tempting array of sandwiches and cakes on display. I hate to admit it, but I also made a bit of a pig of myself during that first lunch, taking enjoyment not only from the tuna sandwiches, but also the ham and cheese, bacon and brie, and cheese and pickle. The selection was exquisitely simple in comparison to the seven course meal the night before, but the ease with which the sandwiches went down made for a nice change of pace. I also have to say that Ms Grose’s Victoria Sponge Cake was the most divine that I have ever tasted in all my life. It was such a shame that Flora and Miles beat me to eating most of it.

 

I allowed Miles to work on his book report for the entire afternoon, not wanting to push him too much after his short bout of ill health. With all those stomach pangs the poor boy probably hadn’t had much sleep. At two thirty we broke for elevenses, enjoying a lovely bowl of creamy trifle between us, before heading back to the books for the last hour of the day. School finished at four pm, and I am proud to say that it was a complete success. I took to my room in order to take a well-earned nap. Flora went to practice her piano, and Miles went down to the pool for his afternoon swim. Ms Grose, I believe, was preparing dinner.

 

I won’t bore you with the exact menu for every dinner that I consumed during my time at Bly House, all that is suffice to say is that each one was equally tremendous in its elegance, quality, and quantity as the previous. I soon became used to the norm of seven courses every evening, just as the children had grown up with, and like them I soon would have questioned anyone who thought it improper for a well mannered family to feed any other way. Miles continued to be the young gentleman of my dreams and even Flora became more receptive. I hadn’t yet managed to work on her appearance but the more we dined together the more she seemed to open up. Through our enjoyment of Ms Grose’s superb cooking we had finally found something in common that we could build upon.

 

During that second meal, I was brave enough to bring up the question of Danni. Miles looked shocked at the mention of the name, but calmed in appearance when Flora explained that she believed that it was Danni that I saw through the window the night before. Miles offered no explanation as to who Danni was and I didn’t push him at that early stage, all he said was that Danni was dead and that I couldn’t possibly have seen them. Ms Grose, overhearing our conversation, was keen to impress the common sense in the words spoken by her rotund master. The matter was hence dropped for the foreseeable future. Until I saw the apparition again.

 

It was once more late at night. Now in my second week of the job. I had snuck an extra slice of Mrs Grose’s to die for apple crumble as a midnight snack. This rather poor turn in my behaviour had been copied from the example of Master Miles, who was indeed, as he had claimed, sneaking food with him to bed every night in order to satiate his post-dinner hunger. It seemed that we both found it difficult to quell our bodily desires after lights out.

 

As I nibbled on my pie like a fat little naughty mouse, I saw the figure once more move past my window. I caught eye contact with it and it stopped. Still indistinct, something about it felt less-threatening than before. Yet, I still couldn’t work out who, or indeed what, it was. It, I mean, they, seemed to stay for longer and examined me exactly like I examined them. And then with a sudden flash of a tail, they were gone. I ate the rest of my pie, and wondered if it really was Danni? I needed to find out more.

 

Ms Grose was really not keen to talk about the children’s past. As far as she was concerned the past was dead and gone. I implored her, though, based on my professional need to know, that she at least explain to me about their previous education. I listened to her whittle on for ages about Flora until she finally mentioned Miles.

 

“Miles did attend a boarding school for a few years until he was sixteen.”

 

“Really, which one?”

 

“That’s of no importance. What is important is that he was a different boy back then. He was still the kind, affable, gentle soul that you know, but he had problems with the other boys, and he had yet to discover the love for food that he has now.”

 

“What do you mean problems for the other boys?”

 

“He harmed them. I don’t think he meant to, but he did.”

 

“That’s very hard to believe. In what ways did he harm them?”

 

“I really don’t know. I was never there. I only know what his uncle told me.”

 

“He must have given you some clue?”

 

“You really are being pushy today, Miss! I promise you I don’t know. All I know is that he went to school a normal healthy boy, and when he came back he had developed that portly belly which he now wears so proudly, and I was told that he had harmed the other boys.”

 

“But he’s so nice! He’s kind, and smart, and well-mannered. I really can’t see him ever harming anyone.”

 

“I only know what his uncle told me. He was to depart by mutual consent and was to return here for homeschooling -which is exactly what he did.”

 

I shuddered internally at the mention of ‘departing by mutual consent’, I knew all too well what that meant:

 

“And that’s when I came?”

 

“Oh no! That was three years ago after his GCSEs. That was with the other, Miss.”

 

“The other Miss? The children have never mentioned another tutor? What happened to her?”

 

“Disappeared.”

 

“What do you mean? People don’t just disappear!”

 

“She did. Maybe she’s dead. I don’t know.” Ms Grose spoke these terrible words with an air of such calmness that it made me feel uneasy.

 

“You mean like Danni?”

 

“What do you know about Danni? Where’d you hear that name from?” Her tone was suddenly very demanding. I reminded her that Flora had mentioned Danni when I first saw the apparition. This appeared to appease Ms Grose somewhat.

 

“Danni was Miles’ roommate at school. They boarded together for about eighteen months, I believe.”

 

“Was it Danni that Miles harmed?”

 

“I have no idea, but I’d really like to think not! Danni was one of them, modern children, you know, confused about their gender. I only saw them once, when they came here to spend the night. You really couldn’t tell.”

 

“Danni was here?”

 

“Only the once, and that was a long time before they disappeared.”

 

“Miles and Flora said that Danni was dead?”

 

“They don't know that for sure. No one does. It’s probably just easier for them to think that.”

 

“You really don’t think that Miles harmed Danni?”

 

“No! How many times? Miles is a nice boy! He was the only one there willing to share a room with them. All of the other boys were mean to them. He befriended Danni when no one else would. I have brought up these children to be kind and tolerant people, and won’t hear any talk of Miles harming anyone!”

 

“I understand. I’m sorry to have pushed you. I agree. Miles wouldn’t hurt a fly. A cow maybe, but not a fly.”

 

My poor attempt at humour was successful and Ms Grose climbed down from her high chair. She insisted that she had to get back to the kitchen and left me there by the lake with as many questions as she had answers.

 

5.

Life continued in the same vein at Bly house for the next few weeks. Spring was turning into early summer and I could feel the sun starting to get to me more and more. Thankfully, Ms Grose, ever fastidious, saw that I was beginning to struggle in the heat, and mixed her menu up to include more refreshing items. Gone were the warm pies and hot pockets, and in came more refreshing ice creams and sorbets. These she would kindly supply to myself and the children whenever they were required.

 

The children were continuing to grow in mind, body, and spirit. They were both academically very smart and I had never quite managed to understand why Miles was studying to repeat his A-levels. He was clearly bright enough to be at university. Their personalities opened up as we got to know each other better and better and before long I could honestly say that I loved them both - just as their uncle had predicted.

 

Both of the children continued to grow in stature, especially Miles, with his tendency to snack late at night, like myself. He was really growing into a fine, stout, young man. His balled belly was still disproportionately large compared to the rest of him, and was only continuing to expand in both diameter and circumference; however, the rest of him was also starting to fill out. 

 

His chubby cheeks grew puffier and his appendages softer. Only a couple of times more did he fail to turn up for school due to his mystery stomach ailment. I had now learnt better, and knew not to disturb him when this was the case. Although I still didn’t understand it, I had become aware that I had interrupted something very private on that first morning, and did not wish to do so again. All in all everything was going fine, until I once more saw Danni.

 

I was again sitting up awake in bed, this time licking at a whippy ice cream in order to cool me down. It was a hot and balmy night, even though the clock had passed twelve. This time the apparition was not outside my window, but passed outside my door - inside the house!

 

I heard no footsteps, but I had left the door ajar just enough to catch a glimpse of that pear-shaped outline and the flash of a tail. Full of adrenaline and trepidation I arose from my bed and slunk out into the library. There in the dark amongst the dusty old books, there was nothing but shadows. I crept quietly past the children’s desks. Miles’ was open. I blinked so as to try to adjust my eyes to the dark and peered inside. It was empty besides the odd discarded chocolate wrapper. I heard a faint scuttling noise in the entrance hall and knew, as the sound grew fainter, that they had headed upstairs. Suddenly afraid for Miles’ safety I ran. My heart beat fast and heavy as I thundered up the stairs. My pace was not what it once was but I made it up the stairs fast enough to glance down the dark corridor and just catch the outline of a wide pair of buttocks and a devil’s tail flash into Miles’ chamber. His bedroom door slammed shut and I swear that I heard it lock. I thundered down the corridor, wanting to scream, but finding myself too out of breath to do so. Like a gorilla was sitting on my chest.

 

I reached his bedroom door and was about to bang on it with all my force when I heard a weird gurgling sound coming from within. At first it sounded like trapped gas, and I thought that maybe Miles was just having one of his stomach episodes again. Maybe I had gone insane and dreamt Danni up, afterall? What was I doing? Half-naked, sweaty and flustered, and about to break into a young boy's bedroom in the middle of the night? What was wrong with me? I paused for the briefest of seconds while I contemplated returning to my own bed - but then I heard it. A shrill high pitched scream. I heard flesh against flesh. I heard the gnawing of teeth. I banged on the door but the hellish noises didn’t stop. If anything, they seemed to intensify. With all my weight, I charged at the door with my left shoulder and was fortunate enough to see it fly open. The lock must’ve been a weak one. As I stumbled through the doorway into his room, Miles was illuminated in the light of a full summer moon. His piercing blue eyes were ablaze with hunger, his gaping mouth pushed wide open, parting his puffed out cheeks wider than one could ever imagine. Pushed out wider by the pair of small podgy feet that I saw disappear into his mouth.

 

I froze in terror as he fixed his villainous crazed eyes upon me. My heart stopped and my breath was deadly still; like a rabbit caught in the eyeline of a relentless fox. For a brief moment I truly feared that he was going to eat me. Especially when I noticed the size of his stomach. It had once more ballooned to more than three times its previous size. It shook with a fierce intensity that one would not think possible. Miles howled in pain and attempted to wrap his fat arms around the still inflating balloon of fat. He was in delirious agony, exactly like on that first morning; maybe even worse. His startled eyes moved away from me and began to study the expanding form of his pulsating and thrashing abdomen. It was clear to me now that someone was inside his belly. He pushed down on different expanding and pulsing parts of his gut and burped loudly every time he did so. It was hard to tell if he was in agony or ecstasy, I suspect that it was a mix of both. I don’t know why but my eyes instinctively moved down to his crotch. He appeared to be completely naked but his manhood was easily obscured but his now literally bouncing ballooned stomach. I looked back up at his face and saw his eyes cross in that wonderful way that boys do when they; you know. I locked my eyes on his, unsure if he could focus on anything, and watched as the pleasure leapt across his fat puffing face. I had never seen anybody this enthralled; taken over, encompassed one hundred percent, by pure carnal pleasure. I couldn’t see his orgasm, but I knew that it was long and hard and incredibly powerful. It caused his immense belly to shake and bounce from side to side with such an intense force that I thought that it might rip away from the rest of his body. Finally, I saw his facial features start to relax, and as his mouth melted back down into a wide and beautiful smile of bliss; his belly did the same. 

 

Whatever, whoever, he had eaten had also finally been subdued. Now all Miles had to do was sleep and digest. I couldn’t have told you then, but I know now; he orgasmed so hard because the devil was literally in his belly punching down at his prostate.

 

He once more looked me in the eye and spoke in his ever so kind and soft gentlemanly tone: 

 

“Let’s never talk about this, okay, Miss?”

 

“Okay,” I said and slunk out of the room.

 

6.

The next morning Miles was already eating breakfast with his sister when I entered the dining room at only seven am. This caught me off step, I hadn’t slept much after the terrors that I had witnessed in the night, and had fully expected to discover that Miles was once again in bed with stomach troubles. Yet, here he was, at seven am, eating pancakes and syrup as if nothing had happened. Yes, his belly was bulging, and he was swelling it even more on a typically large and unhealthy breakfast, but he was him again. He was normal. His shirt was ironed and well-fitting, his hair perfectly styled. His skin fresh and lively, he had scented himself after showering, and a close inspection of his forearms suggested that he had even indulged in his weekly shaving routine before breakfast. He was so clean and perfect in his appearance that he even made me doubt that what I had witnessed had been real. Had I made it up? Had I invented the whole thing? Was it just a way for me to try to distance myself from him? To deny that I had yet another crush on a teenager? Was it all just an ice-cream fuelled perverted heat dream?

 

“Why are you just standing there like a numpty? Come sit down and eat, these pancakes are to die for?”

 

He spoke so calmly, so normally. Neither his voice nor his face belayed any semblance of an utterance to suggest that anything was out of the ordinary. I realised that I was staring at him.

 

“Come on Miss, sit down and eat with us!” It was Flora who spoke this time.

 

I pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. She seemed thrilled. I don’t think I’d ever noticed before but I really do think that it was the first time that I ever sat on her side of the table. She smiled warmly at me and passed me the ice cream, chocolate sauce, and syrup. I looked up at Miles to try to seek out any reaction from him with regards to me choosing to sit next to his sister. I didn’t. He munched down his pancakes and then helped himself to more.

 

Over the following weeks I kept to my promise and never mentioned the night's events to Miles or anyone else. He never brought it up either. There was one thing that I was certain of though, well two things: One, I needed to find out more about what exactly had happened at Miles’ school and why he was expelled. Two, I had gained a lot of weight since moving into Bly House! Boy, these people knew how to eat!

 

Although I'd had no contact with my employer since our first meeting on Harley Street a few months earlier, I felt comfortable sending him an email asking for a meeting. I explained that I was enjoying the job and had a few questions about the children’s records that I wanted to clarify. He responded quickly to my email and said that he would be pleased to meet me at a local coffee shop. I wondered why he didn’t invite me to London or attend Bly House himself? Did he ever want to see his niece and nephew or was he content to let them be brought up by strangers? Either way, that was a question that I certainly wouldn’t be able to ask. It was going to be hard enough finding out why Miles was expelled. This family had so many dark secrets.

 

We met just over a week later on a Sunday afternoon; when I thought that I wouldn’t be missed.

 

The master and children’s uncle surprised me by getting straight to the point before I’d barely had a chance to say hello:

 

“You want to know about Miles’ school, don’t you?”

 

“Honestly, yes.”

 

“That’s exactly what the last girl said.”

 

“The previous tutor? The one who disappeared?”

 

“She didn’t disappear. She quit. Couldn’t accept the answers that I gave her.”

 

“But the children and Ms Grose think she just disappeared!”

 

“Well, I couldn’t exactly tell them the real reason now, could I?”

 

“Which was?”

 

“Are you sure you want to know this? It won’t help anything, you know? It’s just who he is, that’s all.”

 

“Maybe it won’t help his education, that’s going fine by the way, but there is something mysterious about him, something that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

 

“Mysterious? Ha! I’ve heard Miles called a lot of things, but I’ve never heard him called mysterious before! I promise you, this mystery is not as deep or dangerous as you seem to be assuming. He just has a fetish, that’s all.”

 

“A fetish?”

 

“Come on, you know? Like a kink!”

 

“I know what a fetish is, Sir. I was just exclaiming surprise. What kind of fetish?”

 

“Well fat, obviously! He’s a gainer, or a feeder, or both, whatever you want to call it. You’ve heard of that right?”

 

“Well yes, but only, like, as a joke. Or if someone says something like; he or she’s a bit of a chubby chaser. I never really gave it any serious thought.”

 

“Ok, but why would you? Surely that’s the things with kinks and fetishes, you don’t consider them unless you're into them. And if you do they just seem comical, right? All kinks are comedy to the people that aren’t into them.”

 

“I know what you mean, but I feel like we’re going off topic here. So what, if Miles likes being fat or is a chubby chaser? Who cares! I don’t see what that has to do with his school?”

 

“I’m glad to see that you are open-minded about this. The other girl just screamed at me for being a pervert and left!”

 

“Christian?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Anyway, Michael’s school?”

 

“Yes, well I agree with you that a person's sexual predilections are their own business; however, Miles and this Danni didn't keep it private, they made it everybody's business.” 

 

“How? I don’t understand?”

 

“They started feeding up all of the other boys in their boarding house.”

 

“What? Wow! So that’s what she meant by harming the other boys!”

 

“Ms Grose?”

 

“Yes, she told me that Miles was kicked out for doing harm to the other boys.”

 

“She does like to talk in riddles. But, yes, that’s exactly how the headteacher worded it. For obvious reasons she wanted to avoid a scandal. Had it become public knowledge that two students had purposefully been fattening up half of the student population it would have made national news.”

 

“Hence the mutual consent?”

 

“Exactly, all hush hush, say no more. No real harm done.”

 

“What about all the boys that were fattened?”

 

“Oh, they’re all fine. Extra P.E. for a semester and no second helpings at lunch. They’re kids! They’re made of elastic! They’re all fine! … The question is what are you going to do now that I’ve told you all of this?”

 

“I don’t know. Go back to work?”

 

“You want to?”

 

“Yeah, like I said I don’t care what kink or fetish anyone has. It quite frankly explains a lot. I wondered how a boy, who seemed in otherwise great health, had come to develop such a prominent belly, but now it all makes sense!”

 

“I’m glad to have been of assistance.”

 

“I just don’t understand why Ms Grose didn’t tell me about all of this earlier. She could have trusted me, I guess she really didn’t know.”

 

“What? No, of course she knew! She was the bloody school cook supplying them with all the food! Why do you think she cooks seven course dinners every night?”

 

“What? Why would you employ her then?”

 

“Because, Miles insisted on it. She was kicked out alongside him. He insisted that it was his fault - that she had lost her job - and that he needed to make amends. He said that employing her at the house was the only gentlemanly thing to do under the circumstances. I think though that he still just wanted to keep eating her delicious food.”

 

“Do you think?!”

 

I was so flustered by the end of this extraordinary revelation-filled meeting that I left without asking so many more burning questions: What about Flora? Was she also a fetishist? Or had she just been caught up in Ms Grose and Miles’ fat addiction? And what about Danni? I had forgotten to ask what happened to Danni! Did they die? If so, how? If not, where were they? What happened to them? And are they visiting Bly House on the sly and scaring the living shit out of me on a regular basis?! Or did, and I know that it sounds batshit crazy, but did Miles eat them? I still had no idea!!

 

I was so distracted with these, and a hundred more thoughts, that I at first totally missed Miles and Flora entering the coffee shop and embracing warmly with their uncle. I had to turn around and take a second look in order to ascertain that it was indeed Miles’ chunky ass going through the door. I snuck back as best as I could and peered through the window. The three of them were talking. There was no way to tell what they were saying. The only thing that I could make sense of was their uncle pointing at his watch as if to indicate that it was time. He then promptly left. I was forced to waddle away and hide around the corner as best I could.

7.

Haunted by a thousand thoughts, fears, and premonitions, I continued to toss and turn every night. The apparition of Danni, if that’s what it was, had long since ceased to disturb me, now there was a new ghoul in town. The lady was both there and not there, as big as a bus, but somehow as light as the evening fog. She would pass me by in mirrors, and open doorways, sometimes she was reflected on the lake. I tried to call out to her on several occasions: What did she want? Who was she? And what was she trying to tell me? Had I done wrong? Was I being punished?

 

I questioned the children and Ms Grose on multiple occasions as to whether they had ever encountered the large lady, but they all just looked at me as if I was mad.

 

The children’s education was going great and Miles was due to retake his exams in just over a month’s time. I never brought up the kink thing with him, what was the point? It was just another secret between us. We all enjoyed Ms Grose’s cooking, and he was such a beautiful specimen of the young male form, that I settled on the idea that it was clearly doing him no harm. His belly was growing daily, but I couldn’t say anything to him about that, if I did I’d have been a right hypocrite!

 

One day, I thought I saw Danni again. Once more there was a flash of a tale and just the glimpse of a pair of wide glistening butt cheeks. I followed the warm scent and descended down the spiral stairs and into the pool and spa area. I looked around and saw only Miles asleep on his standard sunbed at the far end of the pool; huge balloon belly rising and falling with every peaceful snore.

 

I heard a click; it came from the sauna. I swear I saw the door swing ajar. I approached steadily and peered inside. It was dark but steaming hot. The temperature must have been set to about seventy two celsius. I wondered how Miles could stand it in there? He told me that it was good for his skin, and his skin was lus! However, at his size, at my size, the sweltering heat must’ve been unbearable. The next thing I knew a pair of hands pushed me inside. I stumbled forwards and yelled out: “Miles! Don’t you dare!” Such practical jokes were not beyond the young gentleman yet. I heard the door slam shut and a bolt latch. I turned around and banged on the door: “Miles! Miles! Let me out of here, this instance! Miles! You could kill me! This isn’t funny! Miles!!”

 

But Miles was still on the other side of the pool, splayed out on his sunbed with his eyes closed. I banged on the door and he tilted his head slightly as if to look for where the sound came from. He looked in the direction of the sauna - but didn’t stir.

 

I had only been in the sauna for a minute and I had already stripped off all of my clothes. The sweat was gushing down my face and out of every fat filled pore on my body. Why had I let myself get this out of shape? I leant against the steamy glass window in the door and could just about make Miles out on the sunbed; so close but so far. I banged on the door again and I swear that he looked right at me, but he couldn’t have, could he?

 

I noticed that he was now awake and had raised the back of the sunbed so that he could sit up half-straight. From somewhere he had gained a four litre tub of ice cream and was mercilessly enjoying huge spoonfuls of its delicious sweet coolness as he once more gazed over in my direction. Surely all he could see was the sauna door? Surely he didn’t know that I was in here? He wasn’t taunting me? Was he?

 

I felt my mind go dizzy and I became even more uncertain of what I saw. I thought that I saw Miles put his right hand down his swimming shorts and begin to pull on himself while he continued to eat the ice cream with his left hand. Soft, cool, melted goops, of sickly vanilla trickled down his double chin and puffy chest. They pooled in the now deep dips between his thickening breasts and belly. He looked so delicious; so happy! He was filling his fat gooning face and pleasuring himself; while I was dying! 

 

I swore that his belly grew fatter. I swore that it expanded to three times its original size. I swore that I saw the same chubby feet disappear past his ice cream glazed lips. I swore that I saw him cum. I swore that he saw me. Damn, it was so hot; like a fever dream.

 

Everything went black.

 

8.

The cold water was like being hit in the face with an ice pick. I blinked my eyes open and was shocked to see Miles, Flora, and Ms Grose, standing over me.

 

“Miss, Miss, what happened? We thought you were dead!” Flora’s concern for my wellbeing was palpable.

 

“I don’t know, I was just…I was just looking for something… and the door shut behind me.”

 

“Why did you turn the sauna on?” Miles asked.

 

I studied his face for any sign of lies or betrayal, I saw none. Just his caring blue eyes and sweet gentlemanly tones.

 

“I didn’t, I swear! It was already on!”

 

Miles mused for a second: “Okay, but why didn’t you just turn it off?” He pointed to a thermostat on the wall next to the door.

 

“I didn’t know that was there!” I felt so stupid and useless. In my delirium, chasing a ghost, I had nearly gotten myself killed. I felt so ashamed.

 

“I think I need to go to bed,” I said.

 

“That’s a good idea,” Ms Grose said, “I’ll go and prepare your room and fetch you a nice pitcher of ice cool lemonade, you need to rehydrate.”

 

“Thank you,” I said.

 

“And, I’ll get you a nice big tub of cooling vanilla ice cream,” Miles said, as he wiped a white stain away from his double chin.

 

9.

I woke up the next morning in even more confusion than when I’d gone to bed. I looked around me and the room was still dark. The only light entered through a small crack in the door. I heard footsteps and my heart froze; a large figure drifted past. At first I thought that it was the giant woman, but then the door swung open and Miles entered. I asked him where I was and why I couldn’t move. He said that he had tied to me my four-poster bed and that I was in one of the old servants rooms. I believed him. I couldn’t see anything apart from his outline. He still spoke in such a gentlemanly manner that it was even more terrifying than if he’d been shouting like a loon.

 

“Why am I tied up?” I asked him. He explained that I had taken ill with a fever and that I’d had to be restrained for my own sanity. He said that I had been raving like a madwoman in the night about devils and him trying to kill me. I asked if that was the case why hadn’t they phoned a doctor? He told me that at Bly House they like to keep things in the family. I pointed out that I wasn’t his family. “No, clearly not!” He said. It was the first spiteful thing that he had ever said to me. He retreated and left me alone in the dark.

 

The next time I awoke Ms Grose was by the side of my bed: “Now, now, dear,” she said, “I’m just going to hook you up with this tube, it’s to keep your fluids up, ok? You’ve got one hell of a fever!” I asked her if she was medically qualified to put someone on a drip. She hushed me, and I fell back asleep.

 

I felt heavy and out of breath. A slight hint of sunlight was peeking through the blinds but it wasn’t enough to be able to ascertain my whereabouts. I heard munching coming from the far end of the room. Someone was eating crisps:

 

 “Miles is that you?” Flora’s voice boomed back at me in agitation:

 

“Of course you would assume that I was him! He was always your favourite! Damn teacher’s pet! Sucking up to you all the time! Yes, Miss! No, Miss! Do you think my belly’s sexy Miss? Would you like to stroke it, Miss? I know what you two have been up to! I’ve known all along! Ever since that very first dinner, with all the flirting, and the fluttery eyes! You damn pervert! He’s your student! Well look at you now! Miss!”

 

I tried to speak but struggled to find my breath.

 

“I’m a side character in my own story. You came to Bly House to teach and take care of the children, plural, but you have never focused on me. Yeah, at times you’ve paid me a passing attention; circled back to me when you realised that you’d forgotten about me. The focus has always been on Miles. It always was. You could have me removed to go live somewhere else; literally remove me from the story, and no one would care! It’s always about the boys with you! Why is it always still about the boys?”

 

I’d been taking small sharp intakes of breath in order to build up the strength to speak, now was the right time to help her:

 

“You stink. You need to shower every day and dress better. People may start paying positive attention to you then. Sometimes the answers are much simpler than we think Flora.”

 

Phew! That was exhausting! Why did everything feel like such hard work? One simple sentence; that’s all it took.

 

Flora kept talking:

 

“Well, now you’re the central character in the story. The story’s not about Miles or me anymore. All of the action is revolving around you. Your story from your perspective. How’s that working out for you?”

 

I have to admit that my own perspective had become a little blurry. Was it the apparitions? Or the sheer amount of food? Or was it the infernal heat that had gotten the better of me? Something about Bly House had been very bad for my constitution.

 

The crunching and munching noises continued and I fell back asleep.

 

I blinked several times, the sunlight was almost unbearable. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust. How long had I been kept in the dark? It felt as long as I had been at Bly House.

 

Miles loomed into view. He was wearing a delicious yet slightly evil smile - that told me that everything was going to be okay.

 

“How are you feeling?” He asked me.

 

“Better,” I said, though in all honesty, I had no idea.

 

“Good, you should see yourself! You look fantastic!”

 

I tried to sit up, to raise my head. But I couldn’t move. Every part of me felt like it weighed a ton. “ I can’t move,” I said. “No,” he said, “You’ll never move again.”

 

He was still so beautifully softy spoken that it never even occurred to me to feel threatened by him. 

 

“Why not?” I asked.

 

“Because you were going to tell my Dad about Danni.”

 

“What? No! I didn’t! I wouldn’t! Wait? Did you say your Dad? I thought he was dead?”

 

“You saw too much, you know everything. I told you to keep it between us.”

 

“I never, I promise! I don’t even know what I saw! What did I see?”

 

Miles leaned over me. He must have been standing on a chair or some steps, something that could take his weight, because he seemed like a giant. He loomed above me. His huge swollen belly - a true behemoth of fat. It was now at that triple swollen size that he could somehow achieve. Was he an apparition? Or was it just that beautiful belly that haunted me? I stared at it tantalisingly. He bashed a fist into it and I heard a small camp yelp come from deep within the bombastically large gut.

 

“That’s Danni. He lives in my belly - but you already know that. You just never wanted to admit it to yourself.”

 

“He?”

 

“Danni is a boy… When I want him to be.”

 

“What is Danni?”

 

“I just told you! He’s a boy!!”

 

The giant belly righted itself from above my face and once more stood at my side. I could just see it out of the corner of my left eye, deflating.

 

“Hey!” The voice was both soft and sweet, cheeky yet with a serious edge, male but hugely effeminate.

 

“Hi,” I said, “Are you Danni?”

 

“Yeah,” the chubby femboy replied.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I’m Miles’ old room mate. Come over to visit him. I’m only here for the one night. I’m very sorry to hear that you’ve not been feeling very well. Miles has told me so many wonderful things about you. I was so looking forward to us having dinner together.”

 

“Oh, that’s kind of you. It’s so nice of you to pop by. You really should come and visit more often.”

 

It took all the strength that I had in the world to lift my head just enough to beckon Danni closer to me.

 

He looked in my eyes and I got a proper look at him for the first time. He looked so beautiful. Angelic even; cherubically soft and chubby.

 

“No wonder Miles loves you,” I whispered, thinking that Miles couldn’t hear, “I think that he needs a friend, right now. You know that he’s an orphan right?”

 

Danni looked at me with a confused concern and backed slowly away from my bed.

 

I’m not sure what happened after that. It all starts to get a bit vague. I know that Flora was also there and Ms Grose. She was the one that had been feeding me. I looked out of the window and realised that I was back in my conservatory. Maybe it was the other large woman that they kept hidden in the servant’s quarters? Maybe she was the one calling out to me? Had she been trying to warn me all along?

 

A man I didn’t recognise opened the doors. I’d never opened them myself before. They were wide and swung out into the garden. A man I didn’t recognise was holding a tape measure. 

 

“Yeah they’re wide enough,” he said. Oh, that’s right it was Miles’ Dad, or was it his Uncle? It really did confuse me at this point. I think I fell asleep again.

 

I blinked and there was a policeman, Detective Sergeant Somebody. He wanted to ask me a few questions. Miles looked concerned, his usually vibrant eyes were sullen and staring down at his belly. I’d never seen him looking so sad. It broke my heart.

 

“Do you know who this young man here is, Miss?”

 

“Yes, of course. That’s my Miles!”

 

“And who is Miles to you, Miss?”

 

“He’s my, er…, he’s my..” I looked up at Miles and he helpfully mouthed the word ‘student’ to me.

 

“He’s my student.”

 

“Have you ever had carnal relations with Miles, Miss?”

 

“What?”

 

Have you ever had sexual intercourse, or engaged in any other sexual activities with Miles?”

 

“I understood the question, officer. I was just exclaiming surprise.”

 

“Answer the question, please Miss.”

 

“Yes.” 

 

Miles dropped his head to his chest. He looked so guilty. So defeated. “I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell on you. I kept our secret - just like you told me to,” he mumbled. Tears were rolling from his eyes.

 

“No, son. I have a couple more questions for your teacher first.” Miles nodded sullenly at the policeman and went back to staring at his gut.

 

“Are you aware of a young man by the name of Jake Robinson, Miss?”

 

I looked blankly at the …. policeman?

 

“Seventeen years old, Miss, from Guildford. Where you used to work?”

 

“Oh yes, Jakey! Lovely boy! Dumb as pig shit, but fat as a butterbean! Butterball Jakey! How I loved him!”

 

“Did you ever have sexual intercourse with Jake Robinson while you were employed at Christ’s College, Guildford?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure about that answer, Miss?”

 

“No. I mean, yes, I mean… he had intercourse with me.”

 

“I don’t see the distinction, Miss.”

 

“He loved it! He bragged to everyone! That was the problem. That’s why I had to leave! The stupid lump of lard couldn’t help but boast to all of his mates that he was porking a teacher!”

 

“Miss, I am informing you that you are under arrest on two counts of statutory rape. One count with Miles and another with Jake Robinson. I need to inform you that if you wish to say anything then…”

 

“What? Wait! Statutory rape? But they were both of legal age! Miles is nineteen!”

 

“Miss, both young men were under your legal care at the time of the alleged incidents. That is illegal. As a teacher you really should know that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

“Should I? I’m sorry Jakey!!”

 

Tears began to well up in my eyes. I saw Jakey standing in the corner staring down at his immense belly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at me. He was completely distraught. My heart ached for him. Fortunately his Mum - Ms Grose, and his Dad - Miles’ Uncle, were both there to support him and console him. They held his hands while he wept. I couldn’t see where his older brother or that smelly sister had gotten to.

 

I felt one corner of the bed rise unsteadily. It jolted me painfully. This was repeated four more times. The next thing I knew I was swiftly floating out of the conservatory. They had put castors on the bed! How smart of them.

 

As they wheeled me around to the front of Bly House, I spotted an oversized ambulance parked outside. I cracked my neck craning my head to see what was happening at the front door.

 

Miles was standing there proudly in his black trousers and black leather shoes. He wore a blue dress-shirt, perfectly fit, that hugged every curve of his giant ball belly, accentuating it perfectly in the morning sunlight. He was holding hands with his boyfriend; a chubby little femboy in red hot pants, and a cheap plastic Halloween costume of red devil horns and tail. They looked so cute together. My heart sank. Flora stood next to them looking as flustered and bloated and scornful as ever.

 

Ms Grose stepped forward to welcome their visitor. I’d caught a glimpse of her as she’d walked past my coffin. She was young and slim and beautiful, early to mid twenties, with pert breasts and soft wavy hair. She felt so familiar.

 

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, welcome to Bly House!” I heard Ms Grose say. The children also shook hands with the young teacher. I noticed her taking in their size but holding her tongue - just like I had done.

 

“Is that..?” She was looking over at me now.

 

“Yes, dear. The children’s aunt.” Ms Grose informed her.

 

“Oh dear! She’s not been here all this time, has she?”

 

“Unfortunately so. It took them three days to work out how to remove her from her bedroom.”

 

“The poor thing,” I said.

 

She kind of looked like me; similar age, and size. It could have been me. It wasn’t; but it could have been. It was then that I noticed that my heart, dispossessed, had stopped.