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It had been a long, long night. The sudden disappearance of her admittedly-alarming buildup of saccharine desserts and hefty meals, while in itself frustrating and illogical, was only the precursor to several hours worth of frustrated, hungry shenanigans; the heavy girl was outright exhausted, and, were it not for the omnipresent rumblings of her soft middle, would likely have dozed off just from the accumulated workout of tearing her house apart on a small scale. The trace amounts of cheesecake she had managed to secure only lasted a few moments as far as sating her ravenous stomach went, and she found herself plopped back in her computer chair, wide ass pressing against either armrest, sleepily letting her half-lidded eyes run over the various meaningless texts she was busying herself with reading in an effort to take her hunger off her mind.

At first, Rose hadn't even noticed the slow decrease in ambient noise. All day and all night the cloudy skies above had drenched her house, the fickle mistresses of weather deciding it was too warm for proper snow, and combined with the typical gushing of the falls beneath her floors left her with a rather pleasant white noise; being surrounded by that much running water would likely have driven any lesser-willed people to catastrophic bathroom emergencies, especially ones as gluttonous as her, but a lifetime of living above a flowing waterfall in a rainy, almost gloomy forest left her numb to the auditory sensations. Still, as she read the latest chapter in her most recently bookmarked digital saga (which wasn't even written that well, but hey, it's something), one hand lifting her shirt and frustratingly clutching at her soft, round middle to try to soothe its aching gurgles, the pale girl suddenly became aware that the frigid downpour outside her window had lessened somewhat. Glancing up, she paid it no mind at first, but moments later the reaching implications sank in and she practically bolted upright, her chair clinging to her meaty bottom for part of the journey.

Shuffling to the window, she peered out, nose pressing against the cold glass; though it was dark, the storm was definitely letting up, and her violet eyes widened slightly. The clock read 11:19 PM, and she knew by heart how long the average trip from her secluded abode to the nearest city took. For a few moments, the gears in her head stalled, clicking and whirring with an almost Striderian cockiness, before she took off towards the living room as quickly as a girl her width could move. It was tempting to vault over at least one table in the process, but part of the reason she never floated in the first place was to keep her weightiness in mind, and she didn't need to add furniture to the list of things she had demolished that evening. On the way, one thick arm lashed out towards a cupboard with her wand, and the phone book practically flung itself at the rotund girl, meeting her grasp without the Seer breaking stride. Her momentum carried her to the telephone, the book was slammed in front of her, and before she even knew what was happening, she was caught up in a whirlwind of queries and orders, confirming and reconfirming the weather had cleared enough to facilitate deliveries and immediately putting a standing order for more food than she probably needed.

Not that her raging tummy minded.

The time between Rose placing her orders and actually receiving her food was a good forty minutes of pacing, brow furrowed and hand wringing as she circled the living room. Waiting would normally be trivial to her, an entire Internet of potentially-smutty distractions floating just out of view, but the fact that she knew her saviours were coming meant the wait became more unbearable with every heavy footstep on the hollowed floor beneath. Sure, she had gone almost an entire day without food in her, but that didn't make the emptiness in her midriff any less frustrating. The hefty young woman even found herself smacking at her gut whenever its cries for sustenance became too overbearing, shushing at herself between gritted teeth and anxiously looking out the window every few minutes. The murky, unlit darkness, while normally somewhat relaxing for her, only made it less clear whether or not her deliveries would make it, and her panging starvation only grew by the minute; she was on the verge of collapsing in bed and trying to sleep off her guttural emptiness when, as if echoing from the very heavens themselves, the doorbell finally rang.

The man at the door was apparently running double duty; from behind him, barely visible in the inky shadows of the night, two cars could be seen, the lucky deliverer who had drawn the long straw waiting inside the relative warmth of his vehicle. Looking up, she could make out brown, curt sidebangs, though his visage was hidden from the shade of his cap. In one arm, no less than three bags from the local burger joint; in the other, an equally gratuitous amount from the girl's preferred hot wing locale. Rose could tell he was slightly confused to find, rather than the bustling house party normally demanding of such amounts of food, a single, short, remarkably pale and rather fat girl at the door of a desolately-lit manor, clad in a tight ex-Squiddles top and skirt entirely unfitting of the dastardly chill seeping in the open door. His confusion washed away, though, when his patronage was met with both loads of food begin swiped from him almost immediately, followed by one chubby fist thrusting almost three times as much money as expected into his own rugged grasp, and with a silent agreement to divvy up the loot with his fellow deliveryman, the starving Seer slammed the door in his face and dashed to the couch.

She didn't even get to spreading her meal on the coffee table before she was eating, her hand fishing into one rumpled bag and pulling out a cardboard cup of french fries that immediately met her plump lips. There wasn't even time for etiquette; the moment the first fry met her tongue, the day's worth of hunger flooded her mind, and any and all hesitation presumably leaked out her ears from the pressure. Rose was starving, tired, worn-out, it was nearly midnight, and she didn't have a care in the world other than getting something edible into her, a care that was rapidly being met by the entire salty mass of shoestring fries being shovelled into her mouth with an entire hand. Several smaller, crispier fries bounced down her curvaceous frame, some of the landing on the floor or couch, but most of them being scooped back up and flung into her mouth, and all it took was one swig of cola to wash the salt out and ready her for a massive, juicy, condiment-slathered behemoth of a hamburger. Every bite sent grease and juice dribbling down her double chin, and not even she could force it all down in rapid succession, but as the rampant glutton worked away at her messy meal with one hand, the other was grabbing the almost pitifully small hot wings from her second order and interspersing massive bites of beef with quick, barely-delicate razings of the chicken, leaving nothing but sauce on her lips and fingers and red droplets on her chest.

It was a short while before her third and final delivery arrived, even though it was the largest; a full sized, no-holds-barred pizza-garlic fingers-cola combo meal scaled for twelve. Once again, the cold, slightly frustrated person tasked with delivering the meal was visibly confused as to the loneliness of the destination, and when Rose opened the door, her orchid gaze met with that of a tall, slender, slightly buxom girl with a damp ponytail and a hastily-donned coat. Unlike the previous encounter, however, the stunned deliverywoman nearly did a double take at the sight of her destination's owner. Whereas past Rose had been slightly agitated yet rather courteous and almost pristine-looking, current Rose was a downright mess, her rosy cheeks slathered with ketchup and grease, her thin, white top very clearly marred from whatever condiments had dribbled down her front from her frenzied eating, and her stomach bulging slightly against the hem of her shirt. Still, even looking like someone who was in the process of messily destroying an entire party's worth of food (which, coincidentally, she was), the look she gave the silent woman staring down at her plump visage was enough to cut steel, and the food-for-money swap was repeated. A generous tip was shoved into the tall lady's hand to make up for the late, cold trip, and the door was shoved closed in her face before she could comment on the tubby girl's appearance.

Back inside, it was barely a few seconds of puffing from the short dash before Rose picked up where she left off; dropping the garlic fingers on the couch next to her, she flipped the box open, peeled off one thankfully-cooled slice as gingerly as could be expected from someone as embroiled in eating as her, and rammed it wholesale into her mouth, opening wide for the delicious slab and moaning happily as her cheeks bulged slightly. A loud gulp was followed up with another noisy slurp of her soda, followed up more french fries, another wing or two, the beginning of the second hamburger...before long, it was blurring together, the doughy girl too enraptured with the sensation of finally, finally, having something to eat to care in the slightest how much of a pig she was making of herself. Still, she had to lean forward slightly, thick thighs spreading under her swelling stomach, and a few brief, introspective moments were spent simply sucking on her plump fingers and zoning out from the bubbling fullness beneath her splattered chest, before she shook the sticky, sauce-stained cobwebs out of her mind and resumed her eating.

Someone had once said to the greedy girl that 15 minutes was the amount of time it took between the beginning of a meal and it's effects catching up to the body. Apparently, they were right. Slowly, the glutted young woman's food-induced rush of energy tapered off, and as she swallowed the last of her second oversized burger, sucked down the last of her fountain cola, and tossed the last remaining hot wing's skeletal remains into the garbage pile at the foot of the table, her unfocused eyes travelled to the clock on the wall. 12:16 AM; she had officially stayed up later than normal in her feasting, though her socially obligated bedtime was the last thing on her mind at the time. As if the graveyard of wrappers surrounding her rather wide spot on the couch wasn't enough of an indicator, the girl was positively, absolutely stuffed to the gills, a sentiment she could barely find any objections to accepting. Reaching forward with one arm, she grabbed a napkin from the pile on the coffee table, lazily wiping at her mouth with it and belching thickly into the brown paper; it wasn't even close to cleaning up her visage, let alone the rest of her torso. Both hands were stained with condiments, her cheeks, lips and chin were messily slathered in grease from the burgers, salt from the fries and trickles of cola, and glancing down at herself, she winced a little at the sight of her plush chest's messy state, the wide, swollen curves of her bosom thankfully catching most of the lost splatterings. On the other hand, her folly in wearing a white top was only emphasized by the multicolored stains surrounding the hem and dribbling down her bloated belly, a belly that defiantly jutted out in front of her and rumbled in a much different way than half an hour before. She pressed one hand to her side, rubbing her own swollen stomach gently, and whimpered happily at the feeling of overbearing, weighty fullness pinning her to the couch.

Still, sleeping on the couch in a pile of napkins and boxes was hardly how she wanted to spend her night, and it was with a surplus of effort and willpower that she pushed herself into a standing position. Standing up, the bloated girl was positively gravid-looking, stomach taut and firm beneath her typical layer of soft, pale blubber, and she clutched it with both hands as it roiled under the strain of how much she had stuffed into herself. Looking back down, she still had one of the three hamburgers remaining, as well as most of the pizza, the unopened bottle of cola, and one garlic finger. The latter was snapped up and nibbled almost thoughtfully; the rest she was more than content to save for the next day, especially with how merely taking a waddling step forward intensified how close she felt to bursting. Still, it was a pleasant sort of pain, a reprieve from an entire day's worth of slowly-building emptiness and frustration, and she couldn't help but give her swollen middle an almost fond pat as she did her best to scoop up the leftover take-out without upsetting her tummy any more than necessary.

With the food dutifully stored away, the trek towards the bathroom was slow and laborious, Rose hiccuping, murmuring and occasionally belching lewdly along the way. The foggy sleepiness addling her mind took off whatever edge she normally would have had about such shameless fullness, and she still had the house to herself, meaning her only reaction to her foodstained top riding up her massive tummy was a dull indifference. Either way, said top was promptly discarded upon reaching her destination, lobbed into the hamper and leaving her pale, soft, swollen expanse free of the splattered fabric, hanging over the hem of her skirt slightly under its own weight and forming a doughy, almost spherical mass. The glutted girl barely had the energy to wash her face and bare cleavage of the accumulated spoils, leaning on the wall for support as she dried herself off with a towel and slowly lumbering back to her room. The last thing she thought of was the mess she had left downstairs, couch covered in crumbs, lost french fries and paper wrapping, and table cluttered with empty, sauce-stained boxes, but by the time it clicked in her mind she was already falling towards the bed, and the heavy, pounding impact of her thick frame flumping in bed was the only thing she registered before she snapped into a serene, dreamless food coma.

The following morning, she would find the living room perfectly spotless, the hastily-stored food meticulously organized in the fridge, and a disgustingly flowery note on the countertop along with a six-pack of antacids. It was still worth the belated embarrassment.