To what ends?

it is your moral imperative to make her fatter than she thought she could get. it HAS to be at least a little scary for her.

It’s always amusing and slightly annoying having to make the nightly rounds back and forth to the fridge. No matter how long I’ve been asleep or how tired I might be, my greedy internal alarm clock never lets me rest. My fat fueled brain has a way of reminding me it’s time to eat, no matter what time it is. 1am, and I’ve made my second or third trip to the kitchen for some calorie dense snack to lull me off to sleep. Pizza, ice cream, subs, chips, pasta, cookies, soda. Waddling back and forth to my favorite room of the house, heavy footsteps, fat rolls slapping together, panting breaths, and belly grumbling along the way. Swallowing up whatever can fill me up fastest and leave the sugary, savory, salty flavors on my tongue, lulling me back to sleep.