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"Just a taste, james," you say as he continues slurping down his gravy. "We both need our breakfast, correct?" Faintly nodding his approval, you get eye level with the yellowed crust flake on his toe. "An appetizer," you say. James eyes light up and he inquires, "where?" Ignoring him, you slide the tip of your tongue up the edge of the flake - a small piece breaks off and becomes soggy. Swallowing it, you tilt your head to the left and align your bottom teeth under the crust, moving slightly forward and shaving off the whole piece. "Mm," James grunts as the flake slides into your mouth, the oniony piece turning spongy. You swallow, but with an audible gulp - as large as it is, it didn't go down easy. "Now for the main course," you say wryly. James' beady eyes dart all over the room past his plate of gravy, looking for a fuller meal. Holding your nose up to the fold of his legs you take a deep smell all the way into your core. Cheese, mayonnaise and the smell of full rot enter your lungs. You gag, but you will not be denied your feast. Taking one of the leg pustules into your mouth, you bite down hard - thick, yellow pus shoots into your throat and strikes your uvula. With the taste of pure rot, your gag helps the half mouthful of disease get down your throat and into your stomach. This feels wonderful, as you haven't eaten in a full day. Finally you pull apart the crux of his legs to reveal half an inch of incredibly thick paste lining the folds. "Laygs" was yelped from the corpulent James, but you barely notice. Sliding a finger across the goop, you happily place your now heavier finger into your mouth and suckle the sour paste down. No longer can you help it and you go hog wild, drinking mouthfuls of what used to be skin and fat down your hungry throat. Stomach full and picking your teeth of bits of stringy flesh, you kiss James deeply through the remnants of sausage and gravy lining his lips. Falling asleep on his huge fatpad, stomach full, well, today was bliss.
