You awake with that nagging pain in the front of your head and that sunken feeling behind your eyes.  You know that you over did it agin last night. too much of… everything, The booze, the food, the sex, MORE; everything in moderation your ass!  You chuckle to yourself. Perhaps you should start saying “your FAT ass,” as it isnt nearly the round tight muscle you used to have. 

You try to roll over, but a heavy mass tries to hold you in place. Its your gut, round and distended from the gluttony of the night before. It still remains taught, nearly spherical, from the damn near inccessent hedonism you have been partaking in.  

You wiggle (more like roll) to the edge of the bed and sling your feet over. As you lift your heavft upper torso, you feel the pounding in your head. How much did you drink? Two bottles of wine? Not including the shots from lunch or the mimosa in the morning.

Through your haze you can see the gatorade on the nightstand. You reachover. You feel how heavy your arms are; its it from your fatigue or is it the rapidly added apidose tissue jiggly from it? You open the top and chug it down. Chugging liquids is so natural to you that you don't stop to think about the consequence.

The cold drink hits your stomach like a brick. You feel it tighten and your belly feels as it it might reject your needed electrolites. You hold it in. You will it down, just as you did last night with that last bite of dessert. The thought of food brings euphoria and a tingling between your legs. The pain in your stomach melds with the pleasure and re-enforces the connection between your gluttony and your sexuality. You want more.

You stand up. Well, you try to. The first try fails, and you bounce uncerimoniously back onto the bed. You lean back and fling your body forward, shifting your center of mass in front of you feet and heave your body vertical. You can feel the sway as your ears try to find balance. You heart beats heavily from the strain and from the hangover. Your head gets light and you take a deep breath.

Then the smell of breakfast hits you. Heavy in grease and salt... mmmm bacon!

And, sausage? Oh, cinnimon! French toast or cinnimon buns? Mmm, frosting...

You get lost in your mind as you fantasize about the coming feast. Your gentials tingle again, you cheeks flush and your pulse quickens. It so obvious now, how tightly linked sex and food are to your body. You want MORE.

You waddle forward, a large shirt covering your top, but hanging just low enough to cover your ass. You would put on some shorts, but you fear that if you lean forward and try to heft your fat legs up you would simply fall over. Better to just smooth the shirt down and not reveal you lack underwear. Waddle, waddle, waddle. Your chest and belly jiggle with each step, your own ass bounces against itself. Your thighs shift left and right, too thick to slide past each other in the short shuffle you are undertaking.

You arrive to the kitchen. The food is laid out, but no one is there at the moment. You look around. Fuck it, you say, hungry. Need food. Your mind nearly shuts down now that you can see your drug of choice. Simple thoughts take over. You plop down on the wide chair. It has a soft cushion, so your bare ass doesn't have to rest on the cold hard wood. You wiggle you butt just a bit... you can feel it tickle your "special place." You reach forward and grab the nearest morsel. Cinnimon roll. Hot and gooey. It gets on your fingers, but you don't care. You cram it into your mouth. You barely chew, as it melts in your mouth. You swallow. The tingle between your legs grows. Blood rushes down below and you feel your gentials swell in anticipation. Another bite, swallow. Bite. Swallow. MORE.

You feel hands on your shoulders, but you are too busy (and your moth too full) to speak. You grunt an acknowldgement. You shove more into your face. The hands move forward and down your chest. They caress your breasts, feeling their weight and plumpness. The hands go back up to your shoulders and then down your back. The fingers find your developing rolls, pinching and prodding. One hand disappears and the other moves forward to massage your belly. You feel your shirt start to lift, your bare belly exposed ot the air. A head sneaks under your arm and kisses your gut.

"You look great. I can't wait to see more."

MORE.... mmmm

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