Angela scrabbled for the last bits of food that were in her kitchen, then frantically started opening cabinets looking for more. But no matter how hard she looked, she had to face reality: there really wasn't anything left to eat.

Panic set in as her hunger rose. She felt a fever descend upon her and a weakness overcome her body. She felt like fainting. Was she starving to death? How was that possible?

Her stomach growled again and she gasped in pain at the cramps that seized her gut. She could feel her gut slowly shrinking as her stores of fat drained away. She needed more food, and quickly!

That was when she smelled it: a sweet, cinnamon-like smell coming from somewhere nearby. Food! But where?

Like a dog on the hunt, she sniffed the air as she walked. Leaving the kitchen, she found the source of the smell was her dining room table. But there wasn't anything there.

The table.

She looked at the round oak table, an antique inherited from her mother when Angela moved into this house. It was heavy, and two grown men struggled to carry it in. She never ate at it, but kept it clean for appearances sake.

And here it was, emanating a scent that Angela found irresistible. But it was wood, not food.

Not food.

Tentatively, she bent down to get a closer look. Her big, heavy breasts kissed the cool surface. Her mouth watered. She stuck her tongue out and licked the wood, realizing just how crazy she must have looked while also desperately driven to try it.

She pulled back in surprise. It tasted amazing! She squatted down immediately and faced the edge of the table. She opened wide and went for a big bite.

There was no way. Her mouth closed around the edge of the table, and she could feel her saliva coating the wood, but her teeth couldn't even make a dent. Still, the flavor was an incredible blend of spice and sweetness, and she raked her tongue across the underside in order to scrape as much of the flavor off as she could. If she could just get a little bit more . . .

Another cramp shot through her gut, and she involuntarily clenched up tight. As she winced, she felt the wood in her mouth splinter slightly. She bit down again, feeling the wood flex just a little and the splinters raising up more and more. She pulled away, seeing if she could get some of it to come off.

Sure enough, there was a crescent moon of splintered wood where she had worn away at it. As she chewed the fibers and sucked on the juices, she knew she had to have more.

Her second attempt went even better. The wood was coming away easier now, and she even managed to break off a piece from the very end. She eagerly swallowed it, then went for another bite. Little by little, she was eating away at the table. Not only did the insanity of this go unnoticed, she actually felt a sense of pride in her accomplishment. She wouldn't go hungry after all!

Meanwhile, her body was undergoing stranger changes. Not only was she still slowly growing bigger, but she was adapting to her new and unconventional diet. Her teeth were somehow getting bigger, too, and harder. She was also growing stronger, stronger than even her intimidating form would warrant, and she began to break off pieces of the table and shovel them into her mouth.

She had eaten halfway through the tabletop before she paused. Her jaw hurt from chewing, but more than that, she stopped because of the pain in her back. She stood up to stretch.

And up.

And up. The destroyed table looked small now, worryingly small. As she cracked her back, she realized that her head was almost at the ceiling.

How big am I going to get? she thought.