The Insatiable Collector

Maya Chen's apartment was suffocating under the weight of things she didn't need. Unopened subscription boxes stacked in the hallway. Clothes with tags still attached crammed into every closet. Beauty products forming towers on every surface. Books she'd never read. Craft supplies for hobbies she'd never started. Kitchen gadgets still in their packaging.

Her credit card statements told a story of compulsive consumption: three streaming services she barely watched, monthly subscription boxes delivering surprises she didn't want, impulse purchases from targeted social media ads, next-day deliveries of items she'd forget she'd ordered.

"I'll use it eventually," she'd tell herself each time another package arrived. "I deserve nice things." But the pleasure of purchasing lasted only moments before the familiar emptiness returned, driving her to open another shopping app, scroll through another feed, search for the next thing that might finally fill the void.

It was during one of these late-night scrolling sessions, finger hovering over "Buy Now" for a designer bag she couldn't afford and didn't need, that her apartment's atmosphere changed. The air grew thick with the scent of sugar cotton candy, chocolate, caramel so strong it was almost nauseating.

The figure that materialized in her living room was unlike anything Maya had ever seen. They appeared to be made of pale, smooth material, but their form was almost entirely obscured by sweets candy canes, lollipops, gumballs, chocolate bars, rock candy, licorice whips, all stuck to their surface in a chaotic, overwhelming display. The effect was simultaneously beautiful and horrifying, colorful and grotesque.

"Hello, Maya," the figure said, their voice carrying a strange hollow quality. "I'm Gluttony. And I think we need to talk about your shopping cart."

Maya's phone slipped from her hand. "What... who..."

"I'm one of the Seven," Gluttony explained, gesturing to themselves and causing several wrapped candies to shift and resettle. "We appear when people become trapped in the patterns that destroy them. My particular specialty is overconsumption the endless appetite for more that can never be satisfied."

"I don't have a problem," Maya said automatically, though her eyes involuntarily swept across the cluttered chaos of her apartment.

"Don't you?" Gluttony moved closer, and Maya could see that the sweets covering them weren't just decorative they seemed to be part of their curse, weighing them down, restricting their movement. "Every piece of candy you see represents something I consumed but never savored. Every lollipop is a meal eaten without tasting. Every chocolate bar is an experience rushed through rather than enjoyed. I am a monument to mindless consumption."

"But you're talking about food," Maya protested. "I don't overeat. I actually skip meals because I'm too busy"

"Gluttony isn't just about food," they interrupted gently. "It's about the insatiable appetite for anything possessions, experiences, validation, stimulation. It's about consuming without appreciating, accumulating without using, always reaching for more while ignoring what you already have."

Gluttony gestured to Maya's apartment, and suddenly she could see it differently. Each unopened package glowed with a faint light, and she could feel the weight of it all not just the physical clutter, but the emotional burden of things purchased to fill an emptiness that possessions could never satisfy.

"How many of these items have you actually used?" Gluttony asked.

Maya's throat tightened. "I will use them. I just need to find time"

"You won't." Gluttony's tone wasn't cruel, just matter-of-fact. "Because the pleasure isn't in using them. The pleasure brief as it is comes from the acquisition. The dopamine hit of clicking 'purchase.' The anticipation of delivery. The momentary satisfaction of opening a package. Then emptiness returns, and you need another hit."

"That's not..." Maya started, but the words died. Because it was true. She could barely remember what she'd ordered last week, let alone last month. The joy was in the buying, not the having.

"Come," Gluttony said, extending a hand coated in sticky sweets. "Let me show you what you're building toward."

When Maya touched their hand, her apartment dissolved. They stood instead in a vast warehouse filled with endless rows of storage units, each one stuffed floor to ceiling with possessions. Gluttony led her to one unit and opened it.

"This was Marissa," Gluttony said softly. "Compulsive shopper. Started with online deals, escalated to credit card debt, then to stealing from family. Lost her relationships, her home, everything. Died alone in a storage unit very much like this one, surrounded by things she'd bought but never used."

The unit was heartbreaking designer bags still wrapped in plastic, electronics never unboxed, enough shoes to outfit a small town, all gathering dust while Marissa's life fell apart around her.

"I don't want to scare you," Gluttony said as Maya wiped away tears. "I want to help you understand what you're doing before it goes too far. The pattern you're in? It's the same one that destroyed Marissa, just at an earlier stage."

They moved to another unit. "This was David. Not shopping, but experiences. Had to try every restaurant, visit every destination, photograph every moment for social media. Spent so much time consuming experiences that he never actually experienced anything. Always moving to the next thing before appreciating the current one."

The unit contained thousands of photographs, restaurant receipts, travel souvenirs a life documented but never truly lived.

"And this," Gluttony said, opening a third unit, "was me."

Inside was a smaller figure made of the same pale material as Gluttony, but this one was barely visible under an avalanche of Victorian-era possessions fans, gloves, jewelry, books, clothing, trinkets.

"I was a merchant's daughter," Gluttony explained quietly. "Had access to beautiful things and no self-control. Collected everything, savored nothing. When I died, I became what I had been in life a hollow vessel covered in unconsidered acquisitions. Now I exist to help others avoid my fate."

Back in Maya's apartment, she looked at her possessions with new eyes. "I don't know how to stop," she admitted. "The feeling of wanting is so strong. And buying things makes me feel better, at least for a moment."

"I know," Gluttony said with deep compassion. "The addiction to 'more' is powerful because it's culturally reinforced. You're marketed to constantly. Algorithms study your behavior to show you exactly what you'll crave. Your worth as a person gets measured by what you own. Breaking free requires more than willpower it requires understanding what you're really hungry for."

Over the following hours, Gluttony helped Maya explore what lay beneath her compulsive consumption. The shopping filled time so she didn't have to face loneliness after her breakup. The subscription boxes provided the excitement her routine job lacked. The endless accumulation created an illusion of progress when her actual goals felt too overwhelming to pursue.

"Each purchase is a tiny hit of control and possibility," Gluttony explained. "You can't control your life feeling stuck, your loneliness, your unrealized dreams but you can control clicking 'buy.' Each item represents a fantasy version of yourself: the person who does crafts, who cooks elaborate meals, who has an enviable wardrobe. But you're collecting fantasy selves instead of actually becoming anyone."

The observation stung because it was accurate. Maya had imagined herself using every item she'd purchased, but those imagined futures never materialized.

"So what do I do?" she asked helplessly.

"Start by practicing satisfaction," Gluttony suggested. "Choose one item you already own just one and actually use it. Really use it. Pay attention to the experience. Let yourself feel pleased with what you have before reaching for what you don't."

They guided Maya to her bookshelf, where dozens of unread books waited. "Pick one. Not the newest or the most impressive. Just one that genuinely interests you."

Maya selected a novel she'd bought months ago. As she held it, Gluttony placed a hand on her shoulder, and suddenly she could feel the weight of all her other unread books, all her unused possessions, all the potential experiences she'd purchased but never explored.

"You already have so much," Gluttony whispered. "More than enough. The scarcity you feel isn't real it's manufactured by the part of you that's afraid satisfaction means stopping, and stopping means facing what you've been avoiding."

Professor Barnabas Ravenwood had been tracking reports of a new spiritual manifestation in Manchester's shopping districts people experiencing sudden clarity about their consumption patterns, unexpected encounters that led to major life changes. When he arrived at Maya's building a week later, he found Gluttony sitting peacefully in the apartment lobby, their candy-coating somehow looking even more oppressive in the fluorescent lights.

"You're one of the Seven," Barnabas said, immediately recognizing the pattern from his research into medieval morality traditions.

"The first you've met, I suspect," Gluttony replied. "But not the last. We've been dormant for centuries, but modern excess has awakened us. My siblings are beginning to stir Pride, Envy, Wrath, and the others. Each will appear where they're needed most."

"You're not encouraging the sins," Barnabas observed, noting how Gluttony seemed weighed down by their burden. "You're warning against them."

"We embody what we became consumed by," Gluttony explained. "We're trapped in the patterns that destroyed us, cursed to carry the weight of our excesses eternally. But from that curse comes purpose we can help others see the trap before they fall completely into it."

Barnabas made careful notes as Gluttony described their work. They appeared to people at tipping points those whose consumption patterns hadn't yet destroyed their lives but were headed that direction. Shopping addicts before they hit bankruptcy. Binge-eaters before they damaged their health irreparably. Digital addicts before they lost all real-world connections.

"The modern world makes my work both easier and harder," Gluttony observed. "Easier because the patterns are so clear, the excess so obvious. Harder because overconsumption is built into the entire cultural structure. How do you teach moderation in a society that equates success with acquisition?"

"By showing people like Maya what they're really hungry for," Barnabas suggested.

"Precisely. Most overconsumption is misdirected need. Maya wasn't hungry for possessions she was hungry for connection, purpose, the satisfaction of progress toward meaningful goals. But those things require vulnerability and effort, while clicking 'buy' requires neither."

Over the following months, Barnabas documented Maya's transformation as she worked with Gluttony's teachings. It wasn't a simple linear progression there were relapses, moments of panic when the old urges resurged. But gradually, she learned to sit with wanting without immediately consuming. She started using what she had before acquiring more. She donated bags full of unused items and felt lighter rather than deprived.

Most importantly, she began addressing what lay beneath the consumption. She joined a community group and made actual friends. She started pursuing a creative project she'd been avoiding. She learned to find satisfaction in experiences rather than possessions, in depth rather than breadth, in quality rather than quantity.

"The strangest thing," Maya told Barnabas during one of his check-ins, "is that I have less now, but I feel like I have more. When I actually use and appreciate what I own, when I savor experiences instead of rushing through them, I feel... abundant. Genuinely abundant, not the fake abundance of my overflowing closets."

Gluttony appeared one final time before moving on to help others. The sweets covering them seemed slightly less oppressive, as if helping Maya had lightened their own burden marginally.

"You've learned the lesson," Gluttony said approvingly. "That true satisfaction comes not from having everything you want, but from wanting what you have. From consuming mindfully rather than compulsively. From quality of experience rather than quantity of possessions."

"Will I ever see you again?" Maya asked.

"I hope not," Gluttony replied kindly. "My presence indicates a pattern that needs breaking. If you never need me again, that means you've found balance. But if you find yourself sliding back into old habits, I'll be there not to judge, but to remind you that you already have everything you need to be satisfied."

As Gluttony faded, Maya noticed they'd left behind a single wrapped candy on her table. She picked it up, and rather than immediately eating it, she held it, really looked at it, appreciated it. Then she slowly unwrapped it and placed it on her tongue, actually tasting it rather than mindlessly consuming.

It was the sweetest thing she'd ever experienced.

In his research notes, Barnabas wrote: "Gluttony represents the first of the Seven Deadly Sins manifestations adapting to modern context. Where medieval tradition saw gluttony purely as excessive eating, this entity recognizes that the underlying patterninsatiable appetite leading to mindless consumption manifests across all areas of modern life. They serve not as punisher but as teacher, showing people the emptiness of accumulation without appreciation. As society grows increasingly consumption-focused, Gluttony's work becomes ever more essential. The other six sins are awakening. Their appearance suggests we face a cultural crisis that requires supernatural intervention to address."

And in apartments, offices, and homes across the world, people began having unexpected encounters with beings who would help them recognize the patterns destroying them starting with the curse of endless wanting, and the hollow satisfaction of having too much while appreciating too little.