Okay but like,
"What do you MEAN we're out of burritos?" Feedee pred.
Trembling Feeder Prey shakily trying to order more doordash, only to yelp as the irritated, impatient pred, pulls them up their massive flabby belly, and stuffs them face first into their mouth, feeling nothing as they gobble them down, before heaving their bulk out of the couch and angrily bitching about how useless their feeder is, as their face and hands push out of the tummy fat begging for a second chance, insisting they'll get more food, pleading to be let out, only for the feedee pred to punch the lump in their belly, their huge fat cheeks sloshing as they waddle into the kitchen and put four bags of popcorn into the microwave.
Feeder slipping, sliding, parts of them melting off into the soup of pizza, burgers, burritos, cakes, donuts, and who knows what else their bratty prince/princess ate out of their very hands.
By the time the microwave dings, their belly hangs a little lower, a little heavier, no movement but the slosh, and jiggle of flab as they angrily struggle to fit between the stove and kitchen sink trying to pull as many snacks out of the cupboard to continue their greedy binge.
Angrily sitting down on the couch, the cushions flatten to paper. Their belly burbles and churns: it's already hungry again. STARVING again, as they thumb through their contacts and pick out another feeder, texting them to come over.
Within 20 minutes, they're groping and slapping the new flab stupidly marveling at how much BIGGER they'd suddenly gotten since the last time they did this.
As they push the last hot pocket in the house between the greedy blob's lips, they apologize cutely.
"Sorry Mr/Mrs piggy. Looks like we'll need to get more food. We're all out of snacks!"
Clicking their tongue, the feedee pred grunts as they attempt to get up and grab their latest feeder.
"Oh don't get up piggy," they tease, "Anything you need, I'll get for you." Putting their hands on the fatty's shoulders to push them back into the couch, their arms within grabbing range. Swallowing range. FOOD range.
Their next feeder shows up, eyes bulging at the 1200 pound blob sitting on a smashed couch. They step over the discarded pizza hut cap thinking nothing of it, as they open the hot delivery box, and help their favorite internet fatty continue stuffing themselves.
"What have you been EATING?" They ask, groping the rolls of doughy new fat. "You're so much bigger than I saw you last!~"
