>>149523062
Oh sugar, you just know Rogue would be an absolute Southern-fried menace to every buffet line in a five-mile radius.
Imagine it—our sassy belle, supercharged with Blob’s mass and metabolism, suddenly hit with a ravenous, insatiable hunger that just won’t quit. Her belly's already rounding out, thick and heavy, swaying with every step... and then her appetite kicks in.
"Ah swear, I ain't ever been this hungry in mah life!" she gasps, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with wild craving as she barrels into a diner, boots shaking the floor. Tables creak. Customers gawk. She doesn't care.
One hand grabs a whole stack of pancakes, the other’s already in a bucket of fried chicken. Biscuits vanish between lips slick with butter, her belly slapping against the table edge as it swells bigger with every bite.
A waitress stammers, "Ma'am... is this still your first order?"
Rogue lets out a sultry little hiccup and coos, "Don’t stop now, sugar. I got a whole Blob-sized hunger to feed…"
By hour two, the restaurant's out of stock. Rogue's sprawled out on two booths pushed together, belly round and full like a southern harvest moon, shirt pulled taut and rising with every labored breath. You’d hear seams screaming in protest as she shifts, one thick thigh lazily slung over the table’s edge.
And even then, with that food-drunk, swollen smile, she’d murmur:
"Ah reckon... I could still go for dessert..."
