Blackmailed - Part 2

Liam heard a beep and then the security guard in front of him held up his hand. “I’m sorry sir, but your key card didn’t register. Can you please present your ID?”

This was absurd. Didn’t this guy recognize him? He’s the star of the company, for chrissake!

“Here,” Liam mumbled and fished his ID out of his pocket--a pocket that was a lot harder to access than he remembered.

The guard looked at the ID, then back at Liam, then at the ID one more time. “Sir, are you sure this is your ID?” 

Liam nearly threw up his hands in frustration. “Look at the eyes,” he said instead, clearly exasperated.

The guard did, and then a slow dawning comprehension washed over his face. “I’m so sorry sir! I didn’t recognize you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam said as the guard let him pass. He wished this was an isolated incident, but human resources was taking their sweet time getting him an updated keypass and ID card. He’d probably have to endure this charade for another week at least.

It had been nearly 3 months since Liam first received that threatening email. The first few weeks he struggled to scarf as much food as possible to pack on the pounds, but he managed it--barely. Every week the scale read a number that was at least 3 lbs higher than the last. His blackmailer sent words of encouragement in response, but always with the snide threat of what would happen if he didn’t pack on the pounds.

After three weeks, Liam noticed the beginning of a soft roll forming at the end of his pants. Three weeks after that and he noticed how that roll was slowly expanding to the point where his pants were cutting into his waist. Three weeks later and he couldn’t stand the pressure any longer and finally told his assistant to have his tailor size up his waistline. 

After all, what’s the point of being rich if you can’t have comfy clothes? 

Back then people still saw him as Liam, the rising star at his father’s company. But soon after he started noticing “the look”. It said that something was off, that Liam looked… different. Most couldn’t quite put their finger on it, but a few knew, and Liam mentally recorded their names to be somehow transferred out of the building.

They knew he was getting fat. But a few weeks after that it was worse. Much worse.

Liam used to make a show of his presence, going from floor to floor to hobnob and gossip with the workers. It made him likeable, or so he thought. But he was so ashamed of his increasing girth that he’d begun sneaking into the building early and leaving only after the bulk of the peons had left for the day. 

Rumors were beginning to swirl that he was really packing on the pounds. This latest episode at the building’s entrance would surely make those rumors even worse. 

Liam grumbled as he tromped his way to the elevator. The rumors were the worst of it, but almost as bad was the physical sensation. Liam had never felt himself this way before. He’d never felt parts of him rubbing and crashing together, of his thighs chafing and his belly jiggling. He’d never had to worry about his ass hitting something as he walked past or a spec of food getting caught on his double chin. 

He used to enjoy seeing himself in the mirror every morning. Now the angry swarm of stretch marks that adorned his sides and abdomen made him brush his teeth in the dark.

It was Friday, and Liam knew he was struggling to pack on the pounds fast enough to satisfy his blackmailer. At first the weight came easily, but now it seemed that he needed to eat another meal each day just to gain half a pound in a week. He’d taken to quietly stuffing candy bars in his private office before his co-workers arrived, but even with the double lunch, he wasn’t sure it’d be enough to clock in three pounds heavier by tomorrow.

At least he’d found it easier to eat as the months wore on. That had been the challenge at the start--eating more than his fair share was something Liam had never tried and forcing himself to eat just one more bite had been a struggle. Now it almost seemed like a struggle to stop himself from eating just one more chip or just one more candy bar.

He was reaching into his desk drawer for his first snack of the day when his secretary knocked on the door. “Sir? Your first meeting of the day is here.” 

Liam sighed and straightened his jacket--freshly received from his tailor to suit his new stature. He hoped this would be short. He was desperately hungry for some reason.

The next day, Liam received an email. “Tsk tsk,” it read. “Looks like you’re just a tenth of a pound short. You know what that means.” 

Sure enough, another VPN was burned the next day. Liam vowed to redouble his efforts as he ordered an extra large pizza for breakfast.