You woke in the middle of the night, the room dark except for the faint glow of the moon spilling through the curtains. Elena, your girlfriend, was curled beside you, her breathing shallow. At first, you thought she was still asleep, soft and peaceful in the quiet.

Then the shadows began to stretch unnaturally. Plates, spoons, and bowls hovered in the air, moving as if guided by invisible hands. Elena’s mouth opened involuntarily, and she began to eat. At first, it seemed like she was just very hungry, but the speed and the amount of food were impossible. Her body began swelling grotesquely, rolls of flesh forming and stretching against the thin pajamas she wore. She tried to pull back, hands waving helplessly, eyes wide in terror, but the food kept moving toward her.

A horrifying realization hit you: it wasn’t her. Something else—something ghostly—had taken control. Your chest tightened as a forkful of meat floated past your lap, stopping at your lips. You recoiled, but the invisible force shoved it toward you, relentless. Your hands shook; your stomach twisted with nausea as more plates appeared, each one heaping with impossibly large portions.

Elena’s voice shook, barely a whisper: “It’s not me… I can’t stop it…” Her wide eyes mirrored your own growing panic. Her arms trembled as she tried to push the food away, but her enlarged body made movement slow and awkward. Every bite sent tremors through her joints, her spine groaning under the strain of unnatural growth. The air thickened with the combined scent of sweets, greasy food, and something tangibly cold—like a spectral frost seeping from the walls.

The room itself seemed alive. Moonlight shifted unnaturally, casting grotesque shadows that danced and stretched along the walls. Floating dishes clattered against each other with a metallic screech, sending plates teetering, bowls spilling, but always landing back in midair, perfectly aimed at your mouths. The sound of cracking bones and popping joints echoed as Elena’s body expanded further, hips widening, thighs pressing against the mattress, her back curving in ways that made her moan from pain rather than pleasure.

You tried to move, to pull her close, but a plate slammed into your chest. The food splattered across your clothes, the weight of it oppressive, suffocating. Elena reached out, desperate, grabbing your hand, and her fingers were slick with gravy and sweat. Her eyes, wide with fear, locked onto yours, silently begging for help. The ghostly force pulsed in the air, a rhythm synchronized with your pounding hearts, relentless and unyielding.

Time became distorted. Minutes stretched into hours as the invisible hands continued their feeding. Elena’s body now dominated the bed, her rolls pressing against you, crushing your own movements, making every breath a struggle. The room seemed to shrink around you, walls closing in as plates of impossibly massive food continued to fly in. Every bite made her swell further, her stomach straining, thighs pressing against your side, her arms barely able to move.

Panic clawed at your mind. This wasn’t hunger, this wasn’t choice. This was control stripped away, a body horror beyond comprehension. The room smelled of decay and cooked meat, the air heavy, every breath a fight. Elena moaned, not in pleasure, but in fear and exhaustion, the sound echoing against the walls and in your chest. Her swollen form was unrecognizable; the human beneath the monstrous mass of flesh was screaming silently in her eyes.

You realized with horror that the ghost wasn’t stopping, feeding both of you with an unholy desire. Your body shivered as another plate slammed into your lap, and you could feel your own form beginning to bloat, your stomach pressing against your ribs, skin stretching painfully. Elena’s hand found yours, slippery and trembling, and you held onto each other, terrified, helpless, as the room pulsed with supernatural force.

A ghostly force makes you and Elena helplessly consume endless food, grotesquely inflating your bodies.