Gluttonous Maximus - A Short Story

Chapter 1​

Under the cover of night, Nathan moved like a shadow through the quiet suburban streets. The thrill of the break-in sent a familiar rush of adrenaline through his veins. Picking the lock with practiced ease, he slipped inside the house, his footsteps silent on the polished wooden floor.

He had already made sure this was a pet-free house. He had made this mistake in the past; never again.

He ignored the car keys dangling temptingly by the door and the wallet left carelessly on the kitchen counter. His eyes were set on the stainless steel refrigerator humming softly in the corner. Opening it, he was greeted by an array of home-cooked dishes in food storage boxes. The sight made his mouth water. The quantity of the food amazed him; it was his lucky day. Judging by the size of the storage boxes, he might just have three lucky days.

He carefully opened his backpack and took out Tupperware containers of various sizes. He slowly transferred the leftovers into the containers, stacking them neatly inside his backpack. Lasagna, roast chicken, and creamy potato salad—a delicious gourmet meal. Yet no matter how exquisite they once were, once they had graced the dinner table and entered the fridge, they were all generalized as "leftovers," like a cheap £5 dry pizza and fries. How unfair!

His neck was damp with perspiration, and the only sound he heard was his heavy breathing as he packed. He flung the bag over his shoulders and retreated toward the backdoor. The house was still. Something inside him, not quite a monster but more of a friendly presence, he liked to call it Buzzy, tugged at him, compelling him to pause at the door. It demanded he taste the food now, warned him that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t enjoy it as much later. Every other warning—the owners waking up, getting caught—seemed trivial
compared to the urge from within.

So he walked back to the kitchen island and opened the first Tupperware. His hand shook with excitement as he grabbed a tablespoon from the top drawer. It clinked against the other silverware, but he was beyond the point where fear could stop him.

He dug in, savoring every bite of the lasagna. Before each bite, he told himself it would be the last one. Yet, before his mouth even swallowed the spoonful, his hand was scooping up the next big mound of lasagna. He attempted to slow down when chewing the soggy, cold beef, but impatience overtook him.

He reached for another Tupperware container and opened it. Inside was roast chicken. He shredded a piece of chicken over the lasagna and then moved on to the potato salad. Alternating between the boxes, he gradually emptied them in a matter of minutes.

He had just finished the food he initially thought would serve him for three days. A slight regret washed over him. A burp forced its way out, and he drank some water straight from the tap. The flavors were exquisite, far better than anything he could prepare himself. He told himself the food was the prize for successfully orchestrating the Breaking and Entering. He looked up the ceiling, above which the family has no clue of the happenings in their kitchen.

He felt proud of the achievement, and told himself that he deserved the prize. The same way he did after every such Breakin session.

Nathan then followed his usual ritual. He put the empty Tupperware boxes back inside his backpack and meticulously cleaned up the kitchen island. Ensuring there was no trace of his presence, he placed the empty food storage boxes back inside the fridge. He counted five £20 notes and placed them in the key bowl next to the door. Carefully positioning a heavy key on top to prevent them from flying away, he then slipped back into the night.

(to be continued...)

 

THank you, glad you liked the 1st chapter.

 

Chapter 2​

The next morning, Nathan walked past the luxury cafes and retail shops along Canary Wharf Street and entered the sleek conference room of a corporate office.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour!” exclaimed Dave, shaking Nathan’s hand.

With the confidence of a man who controlled the world, Nathan walked to the head of the table, took his seat, and scanned the room with a critical eye. His team members straightened up, sensing his authoritative presence.

“Alright, let’s get started,” he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs.

One by one, his team members reported their progress with the client’s deliverables. Nathan listened intently, his piercing gaze made them all the more eager to prove their competence.

When it was Anita’s turn, Nathan raised his eyebrows and looked at her sharply with a peculiar interest, more so than he showed the others. Anita seemed aware of this, speaking with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

“We’re on track, Nathan. I’ve managed to incorporate all the client’s feedback into the new design. I think they’ll be very pleased.”

“Good,” Nathan replied, nodding curtly. “Make sure it’s flawless. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

The meeting went on for another hour before everyone dispersed to their desks. Nathan retreated to his office, closing the door behind him. The plaque on the door read “Nathan Martin, Director of Product Management.” He sat down heavily, like a sack of potatoes, finally to be in his den alone.

He removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He preferred to button the jacket to cover the formal shirt stretched tight by his bulging belly. He had gradually increased his clothing size and was very aware that he was due for another upgrade soon.

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. The thought of last night’s meal pleased him. Though the lasagna and creamy potato salad had made his sleep a struggle, he was satisfied with the successful heist. He pulled a notepad from his briefcase and opened it to a page with an A3-sized calendar. Running his pen over the entry for “15th June - 21 Oakwood Close SE23 9HG - English,” he crossed it out and drew a little smiley face in the bottom right corner.

Nathan then scanned the calendar. His next entry wasn’t for another two weeks. He sighed sadly; gone were the days when he had two or three heists per week. As he got older and heavier, his body stopped listening to his desires; now he had to obey its commands. He looked at the next date: “30th June - 96 Laurel Drive WC13 2LM - Mexican.” It was important to spread out the locations of his heists. He let out a low groan, fantasizing about enchiladas and fajitas.

Through the door's view panel, Nathan saw Anita chatting with their colleagues. Even without hearing a word, he could tell what she was saying—he had grown accustomed to her conversations by now.

I made a huge feast for my family last weekend. I prepared biryani with tender pieces of chicken, marinated overnight in a special blend of spices. And for dessert, I made gulab jamun. It took hours, but it was worth it. My kids absolutely loved it.

Nathan could imagine her saying it. It was difficult to listen to all her culinary adventures without having the chance to taste them himself.

Nathan had never targeted the home of someone he knew. That was one of the reasons his heists had gone smooth for so many years without a problem. Though he had never been caught, there were moments of disappointment when the leftovers failed to meet his expectations. He had yet to successfully pull off an Indian or Pakistani meal heist. Whenever he tried, the leftovers were either not tasty enough, not plentiful, or their curry was sweeter than their dessert! Despite managing to consume them all, they were disappointments nonetheless.

However, Anita's vivid descriptions assured Nathan that breaking into her house would not disappoint. He eagerly anticipated the day when he would finally muster the courage, level up his game, and target Anita’s home.
​

(To be continued...)​

 

Thank you... Nice to catch up with all of you... pls Remind me your diff id ( if its still safe to do so... ) ..

 

Thank you Rihana, hope you are well.

<quote>The guy is so likable I wish I could've warmed up that lasagna for him.</quote>
That’s such a warm thought! ..
Hope you enjoy the rest of the story..

 

Chapter 3​

After a long day at the office, the crowd thinned as one after another left for home, leaving behind their plastic smiles and empty pleasantries in the soulless Canary Wharf. Nathan carried his thin briefcase, flung his suit jacket over his shoulder, and trudged along the streets of the Wharf. He had no rush to get to his lonely home. Ignoring the departures board, he wandered to the platform, content to catch the next train, regardless of how late it might be.

During his journey, his eyes misted as his mother’s face appeared in his mind. He remembered his childhood days, getting off the bus after school, excited to be greeted by his mom with her warm smile and delicious meals. She would always ask what he wanted for dinner before he even left the house in the morning. When he returned home, sure enough, the dish he had requested would be waiting for him on the dinner table. Never once did he hear, There’s not enough left or No more sauce. There was always more. There was always enough for an extra serving. The food was as abundant as her love. Her sudden death when he was a teenager had left a void that nothing seemed to fill.

Later, as he grew older, Nathan took Uncle Roger's advice to heart: that a wife could provide the love and care of a mother. He courted a beautiful girl named Sarah from his university and soon asked for her hand in marriage. However, it didn't take long after their wedding for Nathan to realize just how wrong Uncle Roger was.

After their honeymoon period, Nathan expected Sarah to show her skills in the kitchen just like his mother had. He had confirmed during their dating days that Sarah loved cooking, but there was a catch. She loved cooking, alright, but only those fancy, Instagram-worthy dishes that were barely enough for a single person. She served gravy in tiny dessert bowls and presented it with a teaspoon. A TEASPOON!

As the days passed, Sarah grew increasingly concerned with maintaining her slim figure and hardly cooked at all. On the rare occasions she did, the portions became even more meager, leaving Nathan perpetually hungry and unsatisfied. Adding to his frustration, Nathan was prohibited from cooking or bringing home food that might tempt Sarah. He had never been this unhappy in his entire life.

His life took a significant turn when they visited Sarah’s parents. Sarah’s mother was a phenomenal cook, and the dinner she prepared was a feast for the senses, reminding Nathan of his own mom. He lingered around the kitchen, smelling the food under the pretense of chatting with his mother-in-law. His heart fluttered at the thought of dinner when he could finally taste everything he had been eyeing since the afternoon. He hadn't seen potatoes glazed so perfectly in a long time. He had frequented five-star gourmet restaurants, but nothing could compare to the home-cooked food made with love.

At the dinner table, he eagerly awaited his mother-in-law to generously scoop and serve the food, much like his own mother used to do. But to his frustration, Sarah took on the task of serving and limited his portions. Whenever he reached for more, her eyes flicked with disapproval. With hunger and longing, Nathan watched his mother-in-law transfer the leftovers to the fridge—the food he hadn't had the pleasure of tasting properly. The frustration and insatiable craving for the food kept him awake.

In the middle of the night, driven by his longing, he crept into the kitchen and devoured everything in sight. The thrill of tasting forbidden food, coupled with the fear of being caught, was indescribable. That night, amid his unhappy married life and the emotionally sterile work environment, he found a genuine excitement. For the first time in years, his soul felt nourished.

The next morning, his mother-in-law was puzzled by the empty dishes. “What happened to all the food?” she wondered aloud. “Did the dog get into it?”

Sarah was furious on the drive home. “The dog wouldn’t have put the empty casserole back in the sink!” she cried. “How could you?”

Nathan knew that this incident marked the beginning of the end of their marriage, but he didn’t grieve. Instead, he reveled in the newfound freedom to indulge his secret passion. The exhilaration of stealing food became his obsession. He started watching people, observing their grocery shopping habits, walking by their houses to catch enticing aromas, and marking them in his calendar.

Crafting detailed plans, he began breaking into homes. Initially, it was a monthly indulgence, but soon it became more frequent. With each successful break-in, he grew bolder. None of the binge eating from his snack cupboard, fancy five-star meals, or dinner takeaways for five could satisfy his yearning like the stolen food did.

(to be continued...)​

 

Chapter 4​

Anita never skimped on details when describing the meals she prepared for her family. It wasn’t just 'I made biryani,' but rather 'I made biryani that could easily serve 15 people.' Instead of simply saying 'I made samosas,' it was always 'I made like 100 samosas and froze them, enough for a month for us.' She was oblivious to the fact that she was fueling Nathan’s temptation. He would often linger in the breakroom, pretending to check his mobile, while secretly listening to her conversations. Homemade garam masala, sun-dried spices, hand-made snacks, and curry powder made from scratch - All these details fueled his imagination and heightened his craving. He imagined Anita's kitchen bustling with activity, overflowing with food she prepared for three teenage children and her husband. The thought of all that food tantalized him.

On that particular yet another boring Thursday afternoon break, Anita enthusiastically detailed her plans for the Diwali festival feast. "Lamb Biryani, Butter Chicken Masala, Keema Samosas, Fish Pakoras, Butter Naans, Aloo Parathas, Rasamalai, and laddoos," she listed. Nathan felt his heart would burst with yearning as he listened. The image of Anita's home filled with such a spread ignited his desire to experience those flavors for himself, heightening his determination to break into her household next, despite his rule against targeting people he knew.

"It's party time," Nathan said to himself.

(To be continued...)​