The Chocolate Man

The Chocolate Man

It all started – and ended, with chocolate

But it started with a bite.

I have always had a sweet tooth, now I have none.

When I was younger, once a week, my parents gave me 10 pence to

spend on whatever I wanted. I loved my pocket money. As soon as it was in my pocket, I would zoom off to the local confectionery and get a bag full of goodies. Within two minutes they were gone – apart from the massive gobstopper that slowly shrunk in size as one sucked at it from the bulging side cheek. It would start off as a giant planet and would end up as a black hole. Of course, you could get a lot more for your money than in the present day.

My bag of sweets was not quite an addiction but awfully close.

The years rolled on, the bags of goodies became smaller and the value of the ten pence became negligible.

Then I was old enough to leave home and gain employment, where

my employers paid me money, money which I could spend on treats. That was when the big change started, and fate played a dirty game on me.

A new café had recently opened in the street where my workplace was. It was a Friday, and I had an envelope with my first week’s wages burning a hole in my pocket. The café drew me like a meteor shower does to a planet.

I found a cosy seat near the corner at the rear and sat perusing

the rest of the clientele while I read the menu. I realised I was the skinniest person in the room. The bloated customers were gorging on various slices of cake while washing the crumbs down with their tea or coffee. They were being served by what looked like the owner, who waddled around to each table, making sure all were satisfied with their orders. Her massive pinny seemed to mould

her wobbling flesh into the shape of a female, albeit a smiling, chuckling jolly lady person.

“And what can I get for you me darling?”

“Erm, I’m not sure, can you give me some advice on what a

well-deserved treat for me would be. I’ve just been paid y’see?”

“Well luv, how about a lovely mug of cocoa and a slice of

chocolate cake that I have just baked?”

“Sounds great”, I replied drooling like a dog eagerly awaiting

its dinner.

“It is.” She winked.

And it was! I started with a bite. I couldn’t get enough.

It was a long week in my office, and I just couldn’t wait for my

wages to sample some more of the ecstatically tasting cocoa and chocolate cake.

As soon as the office closed, I was away like a ferret after a mouse.

My seat was available at the back. I shimmied my way through the

same customers who were gorging on the café’s delicacies and when my chocolate saviour approached in that familiar rocking motion she had last week, I heaved a sigh of expectation, about to ask if I could have the same order as I had previously. I wasn’t sure if she would recognise me but to my relief, she beamed,

“Hello me darling. Same as before?”

“Definitely”, I replied with a grin.

A few minutes later she presented me with an even bigger slice

than before. Man, I wolfed it down yet still savouring the rich, creamy taste of that wonderful cake before swilling the parts that had stuck to the sides of my mouth, with the equally tasty milky cocoa.

The one day a week turned into a full working week. I repeated

the routine for successive weeks and months, that ran into years. The weight I had put on was phenomenal. I had to replace my clothes from the local second-hand shop several times as my wages were being spent feasting on the chocolate.

Most of the original customers had been replaced by newer, thinner versions until they were similarly massively obese and then, themselves replaced. I had no idea where they had disappeared to. I later surmised that I was following in their heavy footsteps, in the direction of a dark chocolate world of the unknown. I shuddered vibrations that rippled through my flesh like the expanding ripples on a lake.

The ripples reached the shore, that fateful day in my house. It slowly encroached like a hidden bacterium taking over my flaccid body. The first symptom was my skin. It started to turn brown. At first, it was not too worrying, until the dark shade became chocolate colour. It was not just the colour; it was soft and sticky to the touch. The metamorphosis happened by degrees.

I had to give up my job as I was secreting brown sweat. I was not a big miss, more an exceptionally large mister and as a bit of a loner, no one was bothered about me or my secret.

I don’t know what I would have done if it had not been for the fact that my chocolate lady was very accommodating. She kept up my addiction by delivering large slices of chocolate cake to my door, even though I could not afford to pay her.

Then one day she never came. I was in total confusion and isolation.

Later that same afternoon, I started leaking out of my clothes,

so I peeled them off. As I did, I noticed trails of chocolate appearing on the floor behind me. Brown footprints patterned the floors and carpets. I tried cleaning the floors by licking up the stains, which was extremely difficult to do because of my blobby size. I was on all fours, scraping up the sweet goo with what was left of my teeth, when my arms melted and thrust my face down

onto my chocolatey stumps. The semi-liquid squelched into my mouth like a jet from an icing bag. I tasted wonderful. After I had stuffed myself with the two ex-appendages, I started on with my toes and feet. It was more difficult than I imagined it would be, as there was the large barrier of my belly blocking my way like an old pit heap. I overcame that difficulty by nibbling away at my stomach, creating a channel for me to flop into. The toes were interesting as

they reminded me of Cadbury’s Chocolate Fingers, with that slight crunchy feel, even though they were actually toes. I progressed up the shins, calves, thighs and even managed my penis and testicles. The penis was like a chocolate roll and the testicles like Cadbury’s Creme Eggs without the silver wrapping paper.

It was at this point I could not greed any longer. It was the rising

temperature of the day that saved it (the day) as more of me was melting.

As what was left of my body liquidised, my mouth sunk lower

until it was level with the remaining pool of brown paste, I gave an almighty suck – and was gone.