Not that it was difficult. He was a person of strong willpower.
But the thing was, he could never quite let go of that nagging urge to always fill himself. Doing nothing but gorge like a Gammorean male in mating season had given him time for introspection.
He'd never had luck with the Jedi way. Peace had always eluded him. Eating, seemed to fill the void within him. the void literally and emotionally.
He belched as he shook himself awake. Clothes were, scandalous to say the least. By now he'd outgrown pretty much everything except his robes, which hung off of his corpulent form like a tent on a full grown Bantha. As he sat up in his cell, is large, white belly pushed his mammoth thighs aside. Behind him, his impressive, shelf of a bum spread out large enough to fill two seats
If eating was mediation he was fast on his way to becoming one with the universe.
the dreams bothered him though. Even as he started using the force to lift food into his mouth, brought while he was asleep, he still rembembered the dreams.
It was always the same. His mother preparing a large bowl of soup for life day. He ate so much it hurt his tummy.
As he ate, a tear ran down his chubby cihpmunk cheek.
He'd never actually had enough as a child. A slave's life was brutal and most of what they ate was some kind of strange remixed protein that Watto said fell off the back of a trucker ship. The stuff tasted like sand and could barely keep a human being in good health.
He wondered what it was he wanted. The force felt . . . easier. He'd always been gifted, but he'd always been reacting. His immense talent gave him a leg up. But now it felt natural. The force felt warm and gentle.
Eeating like a hutt, ironically gave him the peace the Jedi code had always promised.
Eating on Autopilot, a few food scraps fell between his voluminous man clevage. He was going to need a bra when this was all done. Or was that unmanly? Hutts didn't need bras, but they weren't mammals. He tried not to think about it.
But he might need to leave the Jedi order. It didn't matter if he was the chosen one. If he wasn't happy, or at least content with his life, then what was the point. He would be forever grateful to Master Obi Wan and Qui-Gon. But he hoped that at least they'd understand.
He let out a belch and patted his belly. "Easy boy, you'll get your fill."
At the rate he was going, he could still be mobile, but his mobility would have nothing to do with his muscles.
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