Food and Death: Horror/Fairytale

Small children could be lost in her folds of fat, smothered to death in her ponderous embrace. She smelled faintly. It wasn't a fat-person-doesn't-bathe-enough smell, like cheese and old socks. Her smell was less ordinary. It smelled like clean death and salt and fries. There was a little smell of a pork chop, and a little of somebody's tears. She smelled a bit like chocolate and a bit like vomit. A bit like artificial cherries and a bit like fresh blood. Just sitting too close to her made him hungry and scared at the same time. He wanted to ask her what was in her bag and if she'd brought enough to share, and he wanted to run away very, very fast.

Inspiration: Well, I'd just been eating.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: There's something here, yes there is.