Pete Ramos was notorious for his insatiable appetite. The tales of his eating prowess circulated like urban legends among the students, each story more outrageous than the last. He wasn't just a big eater; he was a voracious one, capable of consuming not just food but nearly anything in sight
With a physique that reflected his gluttony, Pete stood out in a crowd, his frame rounded and imposing. He was a towering figure, and his hearty laugh often drew attention—though, as it turned out, he often used it to distract from what he was truly capable of. Friends and classmates would often bet on how much he could eat in one sitting, but even the wildest of wagers paled in comparison to his real-life feats.
In the cafeteria, his presence was like a storm. Plates vanished under his hands before others even had the chance to sit down. He would inhale trays of spaghetti, entire boxes of fried chicken, even an entire pizza folded like a sandwich. His classmates told stories of the day Pete swallowed a whole cupcake—paper liner and all—just to win a dare. Some swore they saw him chew through an apple core, seeds and stem included, without flinching.
But Pete's hunger wasn't just for food. He thrived on attention, on being the outrageous spectacle people couldn't look away from. His hearty laugh covered his selfishness; his exaggerated gestures disguised the cruelty of taking more than his share. His classmates tried to laugh with him, but deep down, they resented how he turned every meal into his personal conquest.
But it didn't stop there. Those who dared to challenge him quickly learned that he wasn't just about food. The boldest among them would put random objects in front of him as a joke—an apple, a shoelace, even a plastic toy—and to their horror, Pete would munch on them like they were snacks. His friends, laughing at first, soon realized that he was quite serious.
Everything came to a breaking point during the school's "Healthy Lunch Day." The cafeteria workers unveiled trays of glistening red watermelon slices, piled high and waiting for eager hands. Students whispered excitedly, hoping to taste the sweetest wedge.
At the front of the line, as always, stood Pete Ramos. His reputation guaranteed him the best pickings.
"One slice each," the server warned, pointing at the sign taped to the counter. "We need to be fair."
Pete chuckled, his belly shaking. "Fair? Please. Look at me. One slice isn't enough. Give me five."
"Rules are rules," the server said firmly.
Pete's smile sharpened. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled bill and tossing it onto the counter. "Rules are for the weak. Money talks. Hunger talks louder. Now give me my five."
The server hesitated, then reluctantly slid over the fattest wedges. By the time the line dwindled, the trays were bare. Some students gnawed on rinds. Others left hungry.
Pete strutted to the middle of the cafeteria, his tray stacked high with glistening red wedges like trophies. He made a performance of it, lifting the juiciest slice and letting the juice run down his chin as he bit into it.
"Life," he declared loudly, his voice carrying across the room, "is about taking what you can before it's gone. Don't hate me for being smart enough to claim what I deserve."
His classmates muttered bitterly. Some glared. Others simply looked away, tired of his selfishness. But Pete didn't care. He basked in their resentment, tearing off a small corner of a slice and tossing it to a friend, making sure everyone saw.
"See?" he said with a smirk. "I share."
To Pete Ramos, gluttony was not a flaw but a weapon, a declaration of dominance. The watermelon feast wasn't just about hunger—it was about power, about proving that in a world of rules and fairness, he alone would always gorge himself first.
And as his classmates sat with empty hands and hollow stomachs, Pete laughed—his appetite sated, his greed sharper than ever.
One fateful day at the school's cafeteria, as Pete Ramos lounged in the cafeteria, a fellow student named Marissa approached him, a mischievous grin on her face. In her hands was a book,
"Hey, Pete! I dare you to eat this book!" Marissa laughed, teasing him with the challenge.
For a moment, Pete's instincts kicked in, and he contemplated the ridiculous notion. But as he glanced at the cover, something about it intrigued him. The intricate designs and the unsettling allure of the title sparked a curiosity he couldn't ignore. Instead of devouring the book as he might have done with a sandwich, he found himself wanting to read it.
"My, my - what a beaut!" he replied, surprising Marissa and himself. "What's it about?"
"Oh, it's a weird story," she said, shrugging. "It's about this kid who's always hungry and ends up in bizarre situations. Who knows? You might relate to it."
Pete took the book, flipping through the pages, the smell of the paper filling his nostrils. He could feel the weight of the stories contained within, an unexpected promise of adventure and discovery. As he settled into his usual spot at the cafeteria table, he began to read.
The story unfolded around a character named Geremiah, a boy who could never seem to satiate his hunger. The world around him was filled with temptations and strange objects, much like Pete's own life. Geremiah turned into a watermelon and ate himself afterwards, all while grappling with the emptiness that his insatiable appetite left in its wake.
As Pete delved deeper into the pages, he was struck by how closely he resembled Geremiah. The parallels were uncanny -Geremiah's hunger was not just for food; it was a deeper longing for acceptance and meaning, a need to fill a void that felt unquenchable. Pete felt a knot forming in his stomach as he recognized himself in Geremiah's struggles.
Distracted - a loud splat and a watermelon slice soared through the air, hitting Pete square in the chest. Juice exploded everywhere, soaking his shirt and the pages of the book. Laughter erupted from his friends at the nearby table, who were clearly behind the prank.
"Looks like you've found a new snack, Pete!" one of them called out, snickering.
Without missing a beat, Pete instinctively grabbed the piece of watermelon that had landed in his lap. Despite the chaos, he couldn't help but be drawn to the sweet, juicy fruit, a delicious and vibrant contrast to the eerie world he had just been exploring. Distracted by the fruity allure, he took a big bite, the cool juice spilling down his chin as he chewed.
Pete wakes up in the morning, feeling the effects of last night's revelations. His dreams fade, replaced by a lingering unease. As he goes to the bathroom, he notices an unsettling tension in the air. He splashes water on his face to shake off the feeling. A vivid image from PROGGS flashes in his mind, depicting Geremiah, a character who succumbed to hunger. Pete sees him lying in bed, vines creeping out of his nose and ears, his body a battlefield of decay. The horror feels too real now.
Suddenly, he was struck by a wave of nausea. The vividness of Geremiah's plight clawed at his mind. Wasn't he just like that character? The boy who couldn't control his appetite, who went too far and became a shell of his former self, trapped in a cycle of consumption and decay?
With a sudden rush, Pete rushed to the kitchen, his heart racing. He poured himself a glass of water, desperately trying to ground himself. As he took a sip, the world around him began to distort. The walls seemed to shift, and he could almost hear the echoes of Geremiah's laboured breathing, feel the weight of the vines slithering over his own skin.
"Stop it! That was just a book!" he muttered, shaking his head. But even as he said it, the sensation of something creeping beneath his skin made him freeze. A deep breath left his lungs, and he braced himself against the counter, feeling lightheaded.
The air was thick with decay, and he could hear the sound of something wet and slapping against skin. His body twisted in agony. Vines burst from his nostrils and ears, choking him slowly, while his fingers and toes had sprouted tiny roots, digging into the mattress. But the most horrifying sight was Geremiah's own hands, which were clawing at his arms, tearing into the flesh with desperate hunger, the blood pooling beneath him. he boy's eyes were wide with terror, pupils resembling dark watermelon seeds—unseeing yet full of despair. The air around him felt electric, charged with the palpable fear and desperation that hung in the room.
He continued to gnaw at his own flesh, the frantic desperation evident in every motion.
"No! This can't be happening!" Pete thought frantically, heart racing. He felt the weight of the character's hopelessness pressing down on him, suffocating him. He had wanted to break free from the cycle of consumption, yet here he was, trapped in a dark fantasy that mirrored his fears.
Pete, still haunted by his dream, experiences a strange hunger that differs from his usual cravings. Despite his desire to change, he finds himself drawn to the kitchen, drawn to the vibrant colours of fresh produce and enticing snacks. As he opens the fridge, a haunting memory of Geremiah, the vines crawling from his body, and the desperation etched on his face resurfaces, causing him to gnaw at his own flesh.
"Just one bite," Pete thought, dismissing the chilling memory.
"It can't hurt."
With each bite, the insatiable hunger transformed into a grotesque cycle of consumption. The once-vibrant world around him began to dim, shadows creeping in at the edges of his vision. He felt the ground beneath him shift as though the very earth were pulling away from him, drawing him into its depths. The taste was foreign yet oddly satisfying—a blend of salt and iron that ignited a primal urge deep within him. It was intoxicating, and as he chewed, he could feel the roots of his choices taking hold.
He falls against the kitchen counter, struggling to remove vines that encroached on his face. The vines tightened their grip, blinding him to the world around him. The darkness encroached further, making it difficult for him to hold onto reality. The vibrant colours of his kitchen dulled to grayscale, and shadows mocked him. As he falls to the floor, his vision fades into a haze of darkness, and the pain he once felt becomes an agonizing reality, consuming him entirely.
As consciousness fades, darkness envelopes him, causing a cycle of pain and loss. Pete Ramos, once a chaotic figure, becomes a ghost, lost in a narrative of consumption and despair. His choices echo in the silence, causing him to feel the horror of his past. He is trapped in a cycle of his own creation.
In his final moments, Pete felt the overwhelming grip of despair tighten around him, a suffocating embrace that stole away his breath. The chilling realization washed over him: he had become the very monster he had read about in Proggs, succumbing to the relentless seeds of hunger that had taken root within him.