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Bella squirmed in her seat as her cab pulled up to the hotel. She’d had weekends of gluttony in hotels for filming before, but never anything like this: a whole week, luxury suite, no limits on her room service or food delivery budget, all provided by her benevolent feeder. Seven days of unfettered gluttony and indulgence awaited her. High with excitement, she floated through reception, grabbing her key, up the elevator, down the hall, into the lovely, spacious suite. A bottle of champagne was on ice on a room service cart, alongside several trays of beautiful appetizers and a note reading “Dive in, let go, no limits ❤️“ Bella squealed with delight, dropping her suitcase, stripping her jacket off and kicking her shoes into a corner, then grabbing the bottle and a tray and plopping down on the couch. She raised the sweating bottle to her lips and took a long gulp, letting out a small belch and grinning before stuffing two pretty appetizers in her mouth, reveling in the delicious roast beef and caramelized onion tartlets’ perfectly balanced flavors and textures. “No cheap filler for you this week, you incorrigible thing” she said, directing her attention towards her soft belly, already pressing over the waistband of her jeans like dough, but empty to her greedy eyes. “Only delicious, irresistible delicacies and libations, as far as the *uuuurp* eyes can see!” The bottle was lifted to her lips again, and she pulled at it, glugging and chugging down over half it’s contents in a single go. Letting out another long, rich belch, she grabbed tartlet after tartlet, slug after slug of champagne, until the tray and the bottle rested empty on the coffee table before her. “UUUUUURRRHIYP!” She let out a rich belch ending in a hiccup, and heaved herself to her feet, pulling the room service cart to the couch and plopping backwards. She noticed two extra bottles of bubbly on ice in their own buckets on the lower level of the cart as she did, and moaned in anticipation. She grabbed another bottle and popped it, reaching for more treats with one hand as she brought the fresh bottle to her lips. Slug after slug on the bottle were interspersed with ravenous devouring of delicious bites, punctuated by rich burps and moans, and the occasional sigh of relief as she unbuttoned her pants or unsnapped her bra to gorge herself in total comfort and freedom. Not 20 minutes after entering her room, two bottles of champagne lay empty on the floor, and five large trays of appetizers were empty, stacked haphazardly on the coffee table before a woman transformed. Her pants lay open, stretched tightly against her fupa, her gut bulging up in a churning hemisphere, her shirt and bra had been discarded, and her fat tits rested on either side of her bulging mass of stomach, and she teased a nipple with one hand while rubbing the lower part of her gut with the other. “Uuuurp! Helluva start.”