Gorge

Hungry.

So damn hungry.

I tear open the refrigerator door, quickly scouring the shelves for any food I can find. My teeth sink into a block of cheese as my bony hands fumble to open a bag of ham.

Over the cool plastic surface, my fingernails slide in vain until they catch and tear the material open. The cheese falls forgotten to the floor as I pull open the plastic bag and quickly shove slice after slice of ham down my gullet. My fingers find a loaf of bread; my tongue meets it soon after.

My mouth dries out from the sudden feast, and when I struggle to gulp down the next piece of meat, I quickly uncap one of the milk cartons on the top shelf of the fridge.

Hunger pains groan through my stomach as I lift the milk to my lips. I chug the thick drink, slurping down the white liquid as quickly as I can manage, but my appetite lingers until it eventually overpowers my thirst.

I need more.

I let the milk carton drop from my hands, spilling its contents over my emaciated body. My eyes quickly dart up and down the shelves of food. While looking for what to eat next, I gulp the rest of the ham down in one bite. Then I see a filled cherry-bag.

My tongue quickly slithers out over my lips, and I grab the bag of cherries. I toss a handful at a time into my mouth, swallowing the stems and pits without a care. Within seconds the empty bag drifts down to the floor and rests among my other scraps.

In my ravenous gluttony, I clear out the fridge and the pantry, eating every last item on each and every shelf. The final product comes down to the raw eggs, which I bite into and slurp down their goo-like innards.

So damn hungry.

I dig through my scraps, eating the discarded cheese and drinking from the remaining milk in the carton. Blinded by my growling stomach, I rip open the freezer.

My teeth ache and my gums bleed as I chomp my jaw down over the frozen goods. I maul a chicken in a feral frenzy, struggling my way through its cold flesh, and feeling no fuller after sending it down to my gut.

I’ve eaten all the food in the house.

The realization settles over me, and I crawl feebly into the corner. I clutch at my starving stomach, the hunger unbearable.

As my nails dig deep into my skin, I glance down towards my own flesh. I try to distract myself, and look in vain for something else to feed me.

I’ve eaten everything in the house.

No, not everything.

I find the dog cowered in the corner, and stalk up to it slowly. It lets out a frightened whimper. I lunge forward, grabbing the animal and biting into its shoulder. As it feebly tries to fight back, I wrap my fingers around its throat and choke it out.

The dog struggles for air as I take another bite out from its side. I swallow the raw meat, skin, and hair all together, desperate for anything to fill me up.

It’s not enough.

After I’ve gnawed the dog clean, I force myself in a weak crawl towards a desk in the corner of the room. From the desk, I gulp down sheet after sheet of crumpled paper. I bite into an eraser, chewing my way through its tough rubber body.

As I reach towards some tape, I notice my fingers have swollen into thick stumps. Ignoring the observation, I start on the roll of tape.

Its thin, sticky material clings in vain to my mouth and throat. I shove my fattening hands into my throat, forcing the tape down into my gullet.

So damn hungry.

After trying in vain to gnaw into the desk itself, I retreat to my bedroom. In my wardrobe, I find my clothes soft enough to be consumed.

I shred a shirt with my front teeth, gulping down each and every thread. After that, I use my hand to push a sock down past my tongue. After choking on it for a moment, I manage to work it down with my fingers. My hand gets caught in my mouth on the way out, my forearm rapidly thickening.

With a growl, I jerk the hand out, flaying its skin and tearing out a tooth from my gum.

I struggle ungracefully to keep my now obese weight above my feet, as I hobble towards the closet, where I can find more to fill my swollen stomach.

My folds of excess skin and fat barely become lodged in the doorway as I reach to grab a sweater. I try to pull the knit-work cloth apart, but my hands have swallowed up my fingers. With a snarl, I sheer the fabric into ribbons with my teeth before gulping the knitted strings down.

My uncontrolled growth continues, perhaps even speeding up, as layers of my bubbling flesh fill the closet space.

Unable to see anymore, I struggle to breathe beneath the sweaty bulge.

It continues to grow, swelling to occupy every open space of the closet. Outwards it fills the bedroom, rolling out farther yet. It wraps around my limbs and face.

My body consumes me.

Now a parasite within myself, I bite into the ever-expanding wall of flesh, chewing into the eternal supply of cold, fatty meat.

Now I can eat forever.