I shouldn't be eating this late. I know that. But you like me greedy- desperate for food. And I've never been good at denying myself of pleasure- especially when I know you're watching.

I waddle to the fridge in the middle of the night- in lacy sleepwear that does its best to cover this massive body. I'm tired, soft, but eager to be filled. One bite turns into two. The first snack turns into the second and the third. And before I realize it, I'm gorging myself senseless. Strawberries and whipped cream for my sweet tooth. A thick, savory bowl of pork stew. A slice of Oreo cake- for my.. other sweet tooth. And a ham sandwich, hastily assembled out of ham and American cheese. Oh, and I'm washing everything down with nearly a half gallon of milk- gulping and burping throughout.

I eat until I'm breathless. Until my stomach is right and round, and i have to stop- to breathe. To rub my belly. To let loud, unladylike burps slip out. I don't even blush anymore. I don't care. I just keep eating. Because that's all that matters right now. And I know you don't want me to stop.

Fridge Raider II

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