Glutton Boy Bound Me to a Food Transfer System

I made it home deep into the night, but rest was out of the question.

As long as I stayed in the dark, my life remained at risk.

I lay in bed, tossing restlessly, when a sudden wave of nausea twisted through my gut.

I gagged hard, but nothing came up. The feeling reminded me of being a kid, forced to choke down greasy meat that made my throat tighten.

I staggered to the fridge, grabbed an ice cream bar, and hoped the cold would settle the queasiness.

It didn't help at all.

Then it hit me.

I grabbed my phone and opened Daniel's stream. Sure enough, he was live again.

"For tonight's show, I'm eating nothing but thick-cut bacon. Gifts up, folks."

He held up a slab of glossy, quivering fat and bit into it like it was candy. Even through the screen, the sight was nauseating.

I immediately typed into the chat.

"Stop eating! That's disgusting!"

Daniel glanced at the comment and smirked.

"Who do you think you are? I'm not stopping just because you told me to. Let's see if you've got what it takes."

The nausea intensified. I quickly sent several expensive gifts, hoping to get him to quit.

The gifts went through, but Daniel didn't stop. Instead, he hauled out a giant mixing bowl filled with mayonnaise.

"If bacon's not your thing, I'll go for something lighter."

Mayonnaise was practically pure grease. He shoveled it in by the spoonful, and I nearly vomited blood from the revulsion.

"What are you doing to me? Why am I the one paying for it every time you eat?

"Stop, Daniel! Don't eat another bite!"

He only laughed harder as he read my frantic messages.

A stabbing pain ripped through my abdomen. I used the last of my strength to dial 911.

Thankfully, the paramedics arrived fast enough to drag me back from the brink. Just like in my previous life, I had gone into acute pancreatitis from sheer stomach overload.

The doctor looked over my chart, baffled. "With how thin you are, I'm surprised you can put away that much food."

I stayed silent, signed the discharge papers, and headed straight to Daniel's place. The moment the door opened, I pressed a kitchen knife to his throat.

"Ryan, what the hell are you doing? Calm down!"

I didn't bother with pleasantries. I glared at him and said, "I'm done with this. Tell me why I'm the one suffering every time you eat."

Daniel blinked, pretending to be clueless. "Dude, what are you even talking about? I seriously have no idea."

My grip tightened on the knife. "Drop the act. Talk."

His face was drained of color. "Okay, okay! Calm down, I'll talk!"

Then he suddenly shrieked, "Chloe, help!"

I hadn't even realized she was behind me. She kicked me hard, knocking me to the floor, and wrestled the knife out of my hand.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

She turned on Daniel's stream right there, then dumped 30 burgers onto the table.

"Didn't you say you're the one who gets sick whenever Daniel eats? Fine. Let the viewers decide if that's true."

The viewers had no idea what was happening. Comments flooded the screen.

Chloe addressed the camera. "Everyone, my boyfriend's lost it. He claims everything Dan eats transfers into his stomach. You're all witnesses tonight. If he keeps acting crazy, I'm breaking up with him."

Daniel grabbed a burger and took a huge bite without hesitation. The overwhelming fullness hit me like a hammer. My stomach couldn't take another bite. Pain ripped through me, my knees gave way, and I collapsed to the floor, shaking.

Someone in the chat tagged Chloe and wrote, "He's faking it. Smack him a couple times, and he'll shape up."

She stared at me coldly. "If you're still going to put on a show, I won't hold back."