PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "Face It. You're Hungry"

Here's another quick hit (a little over 1,000 words) as part of my ongoing "Face It" series of very short stories. There will definitely be a sequel to this one at some point, and don't worry, it will be exclusive to patreon and for all paid patrons as well.

Enjoy!

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We can both hear that tubby tummy of yours rumbling. 

What? Are you just going to ignore it? You hoping that your hunger is just going to go away? It’s gnawing at you. Isn’t it? Every second that passes without food passing between your lips is making your stomach churn more and more. It’s like it wants to eat itself if you don’t feed it. 

You don’t even have a particular craving. You could go for salty. You could go for sweet. But the kind of food doesn’t really matter. Is this lunch? Dinner? A snack? Maybe you should age cookies, or cake. Maybe you should have a great big juicy steak. Do you want a greasy, dripping cheeseburger with fries or an entire coconut cream pie with a whipped topping that you would surely get your chubby cheeks covered in as you shoved slice after slice into your greedy mouth? The thing is, it doesn’t matter. You don’t crave a specific kind of food. You just crave food. Any food. You’re positively desperate for it. You’d eat your way through an entire box of six month old Girl Scout cookies if it was sitting in front of you. 

I don’t blame you. It’s been- what- a whole two hours since you’ve last eaten?

Two hours. 

You’re pathetic. It’s only been two hours and you’re already practically on your fat hands and knees begging me for more food, begging me to feed you. Even babies can go three hours. Pig, literal pigs, eat once to twice a day. You’re worse than a pig. 

Did you hear me?

Worse than a pig. 

It should fill you with shame, how hungry you are, how helpless to your own desires you are. You just watch the seconds tick by and think about food. Your hunger is a ticking time bomb, obsessive. And as the moments go by, food becomes all you can think about. When is your next meal going to be? What is your next meal going to be?

But do you even stop to think about what that next meal is going to do to you?

How much fatter are you going to get?

Just look at you with this Greta big blubbery belly that’s filling up your lap, and what a fat lap it is thanks to these titanic thunder thighs of yours. That’s what all this eating has gotten you, an incredibly obese body instead of the fit one you used to have. Now you’ve just got all this heavy fat weighing you down, the bulbous blubber, big belly, big butt, thick thighs, doughy double chin, the works. 

It took a lot of food to get you this large, and it takes a lot to keep you this. Luckily for me, it takes a lot of food to satisfy you and you’re constantly craving it. So your slim and sexy days are far behind now, and there’s nothing you can do now but eat. Don’t mourn your hot body. Don’t feel sad. Just stuff all those feelings down with another helping of mashed potatoes. There’s a reason it’s called comfort food after all. It makes you feel better. Your big fat helpless piggy ass needs it. And the more comfort food you consume, the more cushion you add to that already fat ass of yours. 

That’s how you end up this wobbling mound of fat, with fleshy foods of fat formed over where muscles used to be. Now you can barely move because you’ve gotten so fat and lazy. So much for being an athlete. Now you could probably win some rating completions, and that’s about it. 

It is an idea though. Eating competitions. Would you like that? Would you like to cram hotdogs down your throat for the adoration of many? How about a pie eating contest? You can just slam your face into a pie and eat the whole thing like a pig, faster than anyone else. I’m sure you’d love that. It’s not like I’ve never seen you out away a whole pie before. You could eat that pie and still have room for an entire sheet cake for dessert. 

Your mouth is watering just thinking about it. Isn’t it?

I like the idea, you on stage, stuffing your face. You’d be a perfect performing pig, a real show hog. Everyone would be in awe of your talent for gluttony and amused by how fat you are, especially all the people that remember you when you were fit instead of being a total fatso. Those people deserve to see how far you’ve fallen, how fat you’ve gotten. They’d enjoy that, especially the ones you used to make fun of.

It’s funny to think about how you used to make fun of fat people back when you were fit, and now you’re far fatter than anyone you ever made fun of. You used to get such a laugh out of making fun of fat people, and I think it’s only fair that they get to make fun of you in return now. They should get to laugh at what a pig you’ve become as you parade yourself onto the stage, waddle up to the table, and stuff your face with food. We all want to watch you swallow your pride as you swallow more and more pride. We want to watch your gluttony proudly on display as you debase and stuff yourself for glory, for prize money, and because you’re such a greedy hungry hog that you can’t stop stuffing your fat face. 

It will be glorious to see you up there, sweating from the exertion of eating so much so fast, gorging yourself while listening to the daughter of others, driven by your need to consume. We’ll watch that big gut of yours bouncing up and down with each new bite. We’ll watch your jowls jiggle and your doughy double chin waddle about as you cram more food into your chubby cheeks with your fat hands. We’ll watch you make a total pig of yourself because that’s what you are now, now a hottie, a fatty, a total hog.

Would you look at that?

There’s a chicken wing eating competition next week.

I think I’ll sign you up.