Katia's Adventures in Gluttonous Thievery

You are now Katia.
And- Oh my gods, are you hungry. You haven't eaten in days, and you're ready to chow down, and hopefully pick up a few Septims on the way. You approach a house in the city of Whiterun, lockpick in hand. No guards are out during the night, anymore. Most are content to relax once the dragon threat was dealt with. All the better for you. As you approach, you smell a very, very sweet smell. You are encouraged even further to break into this home, driven by the hunger of your pitifully emaciated body. You approach the door. It looks like novice work, and you hear a satisfying click after only a few seconds of picking the lock.

Sneaking inside, you see a bounty beyond your wildest dreams. The house you thought you were breaking into more closely resembles a feast. A single occupant resides, most likely the owner of the household. They are fast asleep in a single bed across the room, the door left ajar. You slowly close it, recalling that the heavy wood of the doors in Skyrim block out much of the cold... And sound.
On the veritable feast of food, you read a small note attached in front of the table.

It reads: "DO NOT EAT! This is for Harvest’s End!”

You can only hold this thought for so long, though, and the thought of food quickly demolishes any higher thought than "Food. Now." You take a seat at the head of the table, and quickly chomp down the Ediar Cheese Wheel in front of you, barely stopping to catch your breath. Any pretense of civility is quickly dashed in favour of glutting yourself as quickly as your body allows. An entire tray of sweet rolls is almost literally inhaled by you. A bottle of Alto Wine is quickly quaffed to quench your growing thirst. And even as you continue eating, the feast on the table seems to almost never end.

Yet as time goes on, the effects of your gluttony begin to show, both on your hunger and the still plentiful array of foodstuffs before you. As you continue, your motions become more and more exhausted, your already severely bloated belly sending its protests in an urgent fashion. At long last, as you finish off a hunk of venison, your belly stops you. A light belch rises out of you, air pockets a plenty from your previously frantic feasting.

As you sit back in the now surprisingly small chair, rubbing your expanded gut. That was good. Looking about, you see a sizeable collection of valuables lining the walls, which you pilfer as you take time to digest. As you come across a collection of gems, you attempt to collect them, and as you do, an amethyst falls from your grasp, and bounces off your belly, and onto the floor. You try to bend over, but only get a sharp pain in your gut for your trouble. Letting out a whine, you try again, inciting more pain. The third time, you’re forced to get to your knees to finally pick up the errant gem.

Almost every room in the home cleaned of any valuables, you turn to leave, deciding not to tempt fate by going into the home owner’s room. You leave, but not before grabbing much of the leftover feast and taking it along. Letting out one final belch, you go on your way, snacking on a sweet roll.