This premise is looking great! I can’t wait to give it a try, the writing is definitely up to your usual high standards.
[quote=“machodummy, post:80, topic:918”]So the general gist is that you play an 18-year-old student who has recently discovered her feedee tendencies - her parents are out for the day and your aim is to stuff yourself with as much food as possible. The catch is that you have a limited budget, some of the food items will be hard to find, and some of them your character is only willing to eat when she’s desperate enough. Everything you eat comes with a calorie value and you’re scored by how many calories you eat in the day. Here’s the opening:
Welcome to Becky’s Binge! You’re Becky Ross, a soon-to-be-university student from the south of England. It’s only a week before you’re due to go off to campus. Most people would have spent the warm, shimmering weeks before term preparing their minds for the rigours ahead by getting a head start on work, or maybe doing the rounds of old school friends before everyone goes their separate ways. But not you. You’ve decided to spend it fulfilling a recently-developed wish.
You’ve been at least pudgy as long as you can remember, and the stress of final exams sent your weight skyrocketing. Eating’s always been a keen pleasure for you, but over the last few months you’ve also begun to love the look and feel of your doughy body. Your developing double chin, your pale, pillowy arms, the way your soft flab undulates as you squeeze it. Could it be that your habitual overeating had a subconscious ulterior motive behind it? Who can say? But since you had your epiphany, you’ve decided that you want to see how far you can go. You’re going to do well at uni, of course. You’re a fiercely intelligent girl with a real aptitude for your chosen subject, English Literature. But you’re going to excel academically while indulging in every pleasure you can muster. Simply put, you want to get as fat as you possibly can, and have an amazing time while doing it.
The summer, with its lack of academic distractions, seemed like the opportune time to do some serious gaining. Unfortunately, your parents are almost always around and control your diet very strictly. In your moments of freedom you’ve done as much gorging as you could manage. Trips into town that you told them were so you could meet friends were actually made with the express purpose of grabbing a burger, fries and a large milkshake at McDonald’s, and then waddling to Burger King and doing it all again! You’ve taken to smuggling dozens of chocolate bars into your bedroom, stashed in your handbag and then furtively conveyed to the safe where you keep your jewellery. Your parents can put two and two together. Your mushrooming figure betrays that you must be sneaking junk food, but so far they’ve not managed to catch you in the act. They still despair.
That’s them at the door. They’re about to become a bit more despairing.
Knock, knock. Your dad, sounding stern. “Becky, can your mother and I come in, please?”
Damn, you were hoping for another half an hour in bed. But you suppose you should admit them entry.
Your belly rumbles. What if your parents have come to give you another lecture on healthy eating? The last one went over half an hour. You’re not sure if you can wait that long for your first bite to eat of the day. Maybe there’s something on your bedside table you can chow down on before you let Mum and Dad in. There usually is nowadays.
In a few fat fistfuls, you shove the snacks into your mouth, taking care to lick the vivid orange dust from your fingers as you go.
“Becky!” shouts your Mum. “Half ten in the morning and you’re still in bed! You won’t be able to get away with this when you’re at uni, you know!”
You don’t reply. You don’t want to talk with your mouth full in case they realise you’re snacking.
“Becky, if we don’t hear signs of life in five seconds we’re coming in anyway!”
Panicking, you lick your fingers again to make sure they’re clean, and cram the empty packet beneath your thin duvet. The door opens as you swallow the last mouthful.
You hear footsteps, and peer up groggily at your parents. They view you with a disappointed look that’s becoming more and more common as you get fatter. It still bothers you, much as you hate to admit it. You wish you could indulge your desires completely guilt-free.
You’re bracing yourself for another lecture, but instead your mum says, “Becky, do you know Colin and Mary? Our friends from the tennis club?”
You’ve met them a few times. An utterly tedious couple who you suspect your parents are only friendly with for the social status it brings - Colin is an Accounts Executive.
“Well, they’ve just called and asked us at very short notice if we wanted to help them out in the doubles tournament today, as both their regular partners have dropped out. So it’ll be your dad partnering Colin, and me teaming up with Mary.” As your eyes focus you see they’re both dressed in gleaming white sports gear.
“Obviously we said yes,” interjects your dad. The more exercise and fresh air you get in the summer the better, as far as I’m concerned." You’re sure that comment’s actual subject is you and not him.
“We don’t suppose you’d like to come and cheer us on?” asks Mum.
You hate tennis with a fiery passion, and don’t relish spending any more time in Colin and Mary’s company than you have to. Luckily, you have a ready-made excuse.
“I think I’ll crack on with my uni work. Best to be prepared,” you smile.
Your parents have always stressed the value of hard work, so they accept your reason unequivocally. In actual fact, you’re going to be spending your time with the house to yourself stuffing your face, which is after all what you’ve been doing all summer whenever you get some time away from Mum and Dad. They’re probably only going to be away for a couple of hours, but that’ll be enough time to order a takeaway or make a fry-up, and then hide the evidence.
“Okay, then in that case we’ll see you tonight,” says Dad as he turns to leave.
“Tonight?” you ask, your heart beginning to pound. You’re beginning to sense a glorious opportunity.
“Yes, it’s an all day thing. And then Colin and Mary have very nicely asked us if we want to come round for dinner, so expect us back about 10 or 11 at night.”
You can’t speak. All sorts of ideas are flowing through your mind, so fast you can’t even grab hold of them to find out what they are or what they mean.
“Darling, we’d better get going,” says your mum anxiously. “They said an 11 o’clock start, and it wouldn’t do to be late.”
“See you, angel,” says Dad, kissing you on your chubby cheek. “Oh, and don’t touch the bacon and sausage in the fridge. That’s not for you, that’s to take to Neil’s barbecue tomorrow.” They both leave. You just knew the last word would be reproachful. Can’t they leave you be?
But you’re only annoyed for a little while. You’ve been blessed with an entire day of the house to yourself. An entire day of freedom! And now you find out there’s bacon and sausage in the fridge. Well, that’s going to be your first port of call. You can always replace it after it’s gone in your belly.
But what then? After all, you’ve got all day to play with. All day. You decide how you’re going to spend it, as if it was ever in doubt. You’re going to stuff yourself with whatever you want, and as much of it as you can cram inside you. You’re not going to count calories, keeping score like you’re playing some video game. You’re just going to fill your face, and let Mother Nature add the pounds.
There’s probably nothing to stop you having another cooked breakfast for lunch if that’s what you want and there’s enough delicious meat in the fridge. But now your mind’s swimming with a multiplicity of images and smells. Stuffed crust pizza, chicken korma, chow mein, ice cream. And the question isn’t which one you’re going to eat, but rather what you’re going to serve up first![/quote]
Seriously, I cannot WAIT for this.
Further extracts available on request!
Just letting you all know that my new game should be finished by the end of the week
So hyped for this!
Awww, you’re all too kind - I just hope it’s worth the wait!
It’s here Let me know your scores!