"You're not even reading that report. You're staring into your cleavage. Leah, you're just about the least subtle person I know. What were you thinking going braless in that blouse?" Marie chided her bustier co-worker. The two women had started off as enemies, but over time they learned that despite all their differences, they had a mutual fondness for ribbing each other.
"If you must know, I was thinking that it was after hours with nobody around to see except for a humorless scold and I wanted to troll the shit out of them with a little jigglefest." Leah put an exaggerated bounce in her step that caused her heavy, ill-restrained breasts to slosh up and down. "I can't coop up these lovelies all day- it'd be inhumane."
Marie rolled her eyes. "You look like a model for the cover of an office romance novel who's let herself go."
"Ooh- good imagery! She's the fiery, independent redhead with a heaving bosom. Tragically unfulfilled by her many sexual partners, she found that her true passion was the free donuts in the break room." Leah paused to think, then added mock-wistfully: "just like real life."
"You've got a body only a cruller could love."
"So in your little book, how big would the heroine get by the end?" Leah wondered out loud.
"What?" Normally they'd go back and forth with their barbs, but Leah was apparently stuck on the last thing and it threw Marie off her rhythm. "Uh, I dunno. Bigger than you are now I guess." She tried keeping the Banter Train rolling, but lamely. "If that's possible."
"It'd be cool if she was dating her billionaire CEO boyfriend and he was into it initially because she's got these rockin' tits out to here, but she's getting quite a tummy and finally he's like: 'Baby, I love you, but you've got to lay off the sweets, or we're a done deal.' And she's like: 'you're my boss but you ain't gonna boss me around.' She keeps eating out of spite and also because by this point she's addicted to pastries."
"Leah," Marie hinted. The Banter Train was derailing.
"And it only picks up once she gets dumped and she sits around in her apartment and gets to be like six hundred pounds. Then of course she falls into the arms of the hunky baker who's poor but he's had a thing for her all along. And then she just like, blows up with him always there to feed her and call her his Lil' Lovemuffin."
"Leah!" Marie squeaked. All the passengers aboard the Banter Train had cancer and were on fire and the train itself was plunging into a jagged gorge.
Words kept spilling out of Leah's mouth. As her rapt expression and her very erect nipples could attest, she was way into it. "And she has the best sex of her life with him plowing her from behind while her face and her huge boobs are white from the absurd amount of powdered sugar donuts she's cramming into her mouth, because she's found out that that's the only way she can come: the stimulation of her taste buds combined with the feeling of filling her ever-increasing stomach to the bursting point. Plus you know, the fucking bit. Yeah! Yeah... Uh." As if waking from a fever dream, Leah blinked a few times, red rushing to her cheeks at the realization that she had provided Marie with enough ammo to win a thousand verbal battles. Could she maybe spin that like it was one elaborate joke instead of a filthy, completely true, and once-deeply private fantasy? She wracked her brain but couldn't find a way. Silence prevailed.
Luckily, Marie seemed similarly embarrassed. She tugged on her collar. "Y-you want to pretend that that never happened ever?"
"Yes. I'd like that very much, thank-you," Leah said robotically. She wanted to self-destruct. Change the subject. Give Marie something easy to work with. Do it fast. She coughed, turned her chunky butt towards her co-worker. "New topic: does this ass make my skirt look fat?"