The Feast After Christmas

Chapter 1 - The Feast After Christmas

‘Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, except for young Klaus.

Home from his college, where snacks ruled the scene,
He’d gained far, far more than the freshman fifteen.

His frame, once quite slim, had grown soft and so wide,
A belly that jiggled and hips that swayed side to side.

His cheeks round and rosy, a double chin plump,
With arms thick as hams and his rear a large lump.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
But Klaus had his sights on the fridge over there.

His parents asleep, snug tight in their bed,
While visions of feasts danced through Klaus’s head.

A grumble arose from his belly so round,
A deep, needy hunger, a pleading, loud sound.

He shifted his bulk from the couch with a groan,
But the urge to indulge was too deeply sown.

With each step to the kitchen, his body did sway,
His belly wobbled softly in its own rhythmic way.

His thighs rubbed together, his breath came in pants,
And his shirt rode up high as he tugged at his pants.

Finally, the fridge stood aglow in the night,
A beacon of comfort, a source of delight.

He opened the door, its cool air filled the space,
And surveyed the food with a greedy grin on his face.

A half-eaten turkey sat plump on its plate,
Beside mashed potatoes that whispered, “Don’t wait.”

A pie gleamed with sugar, a pudding stood tall,
And biscuits lay golden—the best of them all.

He licked at his lips, his hands slightly shook,
And he piled up a platter without a second look.

Each layer of food added weight to his tray,
But Klaus stayed by the fridge, too hungry to stray.

He eased himself down with a grunt and a wheeze,
His belly spread wide, resting firm on his knees.

And then he began, the first bite slow and sweet,
Each flavor exploding, a delectable treat.

The turkey was savory, so tender and divine,
The potatoes so creamy, so smooth, whipped fine.

The buttered rolls flaky, the ham rich and glazed,
Each mouthful was perfect! The leftovers amazed.

With each swallow, his belly grew tighter,
But his joy only soared, his grin growing brighter.

The weight of the food pressed his middle so snug,
But Klaus only hiccuped and gave it a rub.

“More,” he half-whispered, his hunger ablaze,
As he shoveled the stuffing with a greed-filled gaze.

The discomfort began, a tight, stretching ache,
But the pleasure was greater with each bite he’d take.

He leaned back to burp, a loud, hearty sound,
Then moaned in delight as he shifted around.

His belly, now massive, rose high like a dome,
A feast-filled companion that felt just like home.

As he reached for more pudding, his shirt finally tore,
Exposing his gut, which jiggled once more.

The cold air hit his skin, but Klaus didn’t care,
He just rubbed at his stomach with a satisfied air.

Between bites, he sighed, his breath short and thick,
But the food in his hands made his heart beat quick.

A pie disappeared, then the turkey, then rolls,
As Klaus ate his fill, his cravings taking control.

When finally stuffed, he reclined with a sigh,
His gut stretched and groaning, too full to deny.

“Oh, that’s the good stuff,” he whispered, half-slurred,
His breathing slow, labored, his vision slightly blurred.

By the time the fridge emptied, he lay on the floor,
Too bloated to rise, his limbs tired and sore.

His moans filled the air, soft, deep, and content,
A testament clear to his night’s indulgent event.

When morning arrived, his mom froze in her tracks,
To see Klaus sprawled out, surrounded by scraps.

His belly was huge, taut, round, and obscene,
A monument clear to his gluttonous scene.

“Oh, Klaus!” she exclaimed, “What have you done?”
But he gave a soft burp, patting his belly for fun.

“Was just a snack,” he said, his voice full of delight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and—brrrp—to all a good bite!”



Inspired by “A Visit from St. Nicholas” by Clement Clarke Moore.