Naomi Comes Out On Top

The cheaply-threaded napkin smudges against a modest pair of lips, dusting any debris off in it's way. Sprinkles of wildly varying colors dropped onto the table, each making a lightly wooden clatter as they landed. A woman calmly awaited in her booth to leave, the red leather bearing a very comfortable cushion in the seat. Comfy enough for her to stay here all day... if she didn't have other plans in mind, she may have very well went deep into the afternoon casually lounging around at her favorite coffee shop. The waitress was quick to exchange a standard-fare printed receipt for Naomi's payment. 2 icing-frosted doughnuts. A medium-sized chai tea, extra cream and sugar. Just the way she liked it. All topped off with a hearty egg-and-bagel combo made for an excellent breakfast.

A meal of this proportion was the standard rather than the exception, such a front-loaded daily intake proved to be apparently beneficial for her strenuous work routine. Based solely off of this, one may assume that Naomi was on the pudgier side. Or daresay, fat. To the contrary, her gut only bore a hardly-noticeable spare tire underneath her usual lemon-flavored blouse. If anything, people would sooner take notice to her ample thighs. These soft tree trunks were partially hidden by a combo of hosing and grey pencil skirt, that of which rode the midpoint between her legs and hips. It'd be advised not to gawk at her notable extremities for too long, lest you be met with a cold enough side-eye to rival the highest mountaintops. It was quite the contrast to her attitude around those she held in high regard. If one word could be used to describe her temperament in a clear and concise way, it would be "reciprocation". It was common sense: act kindly toward others, and they'll act kindly toward you. Act like a pompous asshole, and, well...

Exiting the story, Naomi was only able to trod a few dozen feet before noticing what visually appeared to be a roving pile of cloth rags. Loose whites hanging around her top, with some black ribbons dragging behind her. Her walk, if it could even be called that, was more akin to a shell-shocked stagger. A pair of weary eyes peered up from the ground, making contact with Naomi's. The stranger opens her mouth and spits out an accent that was almost cartoonishly regal. "Begone from my sights before I *force* you, hog."

"Uh... excuse me?" Was all Naomi could muster up. How was she even supposed to react to something like *that*? "Who are you, exactly?"

The mysteriously tatter-adorned girl scoffed at the aforementioned "hog's" presence. "Hoooh, I had hardly even expected such a *pleeebian* like yourself to recognize a high-class woman when you've seen one. I, Klarissa Kennedy, am *ooonly* the most proper around. Especially in such a disgusting city like this."

Naomi then flatly stated an "Ohhkay", knowing full well that nothing good would come of this conversation. "I'm just gonna, uh, walk go this way now. Thanks for the... enlightenment. Maybe we'll meet again sometime. Preferably not."

"How DARE you run from someone like ME." Klarissa retorted, severely offended that her latest whipping girl was escaping her sphere of influence. She powerwalked to catch up. "Why, has nobody ever taught you some basic manners?"

The look of a half-amused, half-annoyed jeer formed on Naomi's face. "I could probably say the same, 'Klarissa'. Whatever you want me to call you."

"I'll have you know that my mannerisms exhibit ABSOLUTE PERFECTION. Thank you very much, you disgusting fffuck." Klarissa's words almost seemed a bit slurred, as if she had become drunk off of her own superiority complex.

"Phwooo." An exasperated sigh, the back and forth continued between these two. "No, seriously. What sort of mental disorders do you have? You showed up out of nowhere in your... clothes? And started hollering like some sort of over-the-top cartoon princes-"

"Nuh uh uh!." A foreign finger was placed atop Naomi's mouth. "I AM a princess. High royalty. I've got *so* much money, I could buy you with the snap of my fingers."

"Are you bribing me?"

"What's it look like, charity? HAH! How about you be my servant, hun? Carry me from place to place, transport my belongings to me on demand, yadda yadda."

"'Yadda yadda'? I don't know, that sort of sounds like *slavery* to me."

"No how! Slavery's when you don't pay people to do your bidding. I, in contrast, am offering to hand over 5 whole dollars on the hour. Not like you're pretty enough to get any better work anyway, ugly-buns. Hehe. Pick me up, carry me home, then we can get started. It's that simple. Kay? Sound like a deal?"

"Ugh..." While Naomi was maintaining her composure on the outside, a swarm of anger buzzed about her head. "The *nerve* of this absolute cunt. How is it even possible for people to be like this? Even IF I wanted to take her up on being her personal bitch, no way would the wage be good enough. It's too early for this sort of bullshit."

A mere few seconds of silence passed before Klarissa became impatient. "Do you possess slowness in the head? It shouldn't take too much thought for a simple 'yes'!"

"Hey, get back here! No way do you have the audacity to scamper off again!"

Klarissa ran after the fleeing Naomi, clawing at her shoulders. They both accelerated into a jog, then to a full-on sprint. After being chased all around the urban matrix, the poor businesswoman was eventually able to throw the twister marauder off of her trail through a series of sharp turns. She had been left in a sweaty heap from the exertion of running her hefty frame down the barren morning sidewalk.

For the time being, at least.

A few minutes pass. Naomi had hidden herself away inside an all-you-can-eat buffet. It wouldn't open for another hour, but she had managed to enter through the negligently-unlocked back door. Unfortunately for her, so did Klarissa. All it took was a poke of the head, raised juuust an inch too high, and Naomi's cover had been blown wide open.

Rittle rattle. That was the sound of a cheap doorknob to this bargain-bin restaurant. Two pairs of rusted hinges grated open, revealing a significantly more pissed off Klarissa. Her face was in a grimace, the pinnacle of utter contempt in her eyes. Head angled upward and eyes searching down on the ground for a certain worthless pig. Her scanning was met with a pair of polyester-leather flats. With a pair of crossed arms up above, it was clear that Naomi was about to stand her ground, in more than one sense of the term.

Klarissa thrust herself forward at Naomi, with a mighty "RAAAAH!!", only to be immediately intercepted. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. Naomi raised her catch a mere few degrees before slamming her into the ground, causing the neatly-arranged silverware to hop up an inch, from silk-clothed table into midair. An impact of that magnitude would have easily shattered most. Thankfully for her, Klarissa was pretty dense in the head.

Naomi let out a slight chuckle. She wasn't quite satisfied yet. Wheeling in many carts of food over to where her pursuer laid flat on the ground, it was time to add insult to injury. No- she didn't plan on forcefeeding her adversary in an attempt to ruin her slender figure. Not by a long shot. Klarissa's vision was still blurred, but even *she* could see the curtain of dark-grey draping over her. It landed on top of her with a light squish. Nearly all of Naomi's girth was currently seated upon Klarissa's chest, pinning her down in place. Naomi walked her fingers across the buffet cart, letting Klarissa know full well that the 200 pound weight atop her was just going to further restrict her from escaping.

Her first victims were located in a metallic bin of steamed dumplings, located directly to her left. Naomi didn't have much of a preference toward dumplings in particular, they just so happened to be the first thing within arm's reach. Grabbing two at a time between the gaps in her fingers, she brought handfuls of oriental ravioli to her mouth. The ones that weren't outright swallowed whole had been thoroughly blended to a pulp. It was now that Naomi's abdomen showed the first signs of any regular binge session: slight bloating, clearly noticeable from a casual glance, the risk of someone trying to be "funny" and asking when you're due. None of that would stop Naomi from proceeding to absolutely stuff her face with whatever she could get her hands on. Rather- mouth on.

A few dozen dumplings later, Naomi laid back to take a brief moment of relaxation. Eviscerating a dozen pounds of the pasta-coated meat-and-vegetable mix did wonders to wear a girl out so quickly. Likewise, so did being the recipient of a two-ton rump, as Klarissa had very quickly learned. "Disgust" wasn't an accurate term to put her feelings into perspective. She was simply *abhorred* at the thought of packing on thousands of pounds within such a short span of time.

This strong impression was almost enough to distract her from the reality that she was (figuratively) being flattened like a pizza, much like the same cuisine Naomi had been chowing down on all the while. There were no toppings on any slices. In fact, she was far out of the intended demographic for this particular meal, being intended for the children who would gag at the thought of anything out of their comfort zone. Both women had abandoned comfort long ago, unless you count Naomi's comfort-slash-domination eating as some form of catharsis. Even if that were the case, no amount of anguish would justify gross overindulgence like this.

A "few" entree bins later, things had gotten to the point where she manually undid each, heavily stressed, plastic button on her shirt. With the last one undone, her gut was allowed to freely sag down as much as it wanted. As in, barely at all. Despite the lofty weight it carried, a tautly-stretched stomach largely kept it from being soft and malleable as it usually was. Two pairs of ever-so-faint indented ridges on her thin sheet of skin pointed toward a cavernous navel, those being the sole features of her belly.

The bottom-most of these ridges could even be seen from Klarissa's point of view. It was among the few things she COULD see. If it weren't the massive obstruction blocking her from retaliating in any way at all, it was Naomi's excessive heft crushing the wind out of her lungs; the ever-expanding garbage dumper's weight had now ballooned out to a whopping 240 pounds, if not 250! Klarissa was in no shape to be keeping count, with her only metric of measurement being how much more pressure she could feel on her own abdomen. Naomi was hardly going to listen to any sort of asphyxiated pleads made, leaving Klarissa only with her own thoughts in this troublesome time.

"I knew for a *fact* that she was a lard-swilling chowhound from the start, but she has no right to taunt me like this. No right! As soon as I'm back on my feet and ready to fight, I'll... I... I'm... not sure if I even *will* be able to free myself from under here. I've felt as if I'm being slowly steamrolled to death for the past who-knows-how-long now. Is this how I will perish? Trapped beneath an obese cow? Not only would that be an excruciating process, but an embarrassing one as well. Much longer, and I may very well just pass out."

From when Naomi had first taken her seat to now, Klarissa's complexion had gradually shifted to a light blue. She didn't dare so much as open her mouth to breathe, lest a pantyhose-clad fountain of softness spill into her mouth. With only an estimated minute left before she'd go into an oxygen-deprived state of coma, something wet could be felt forming innumerable droplets across Naomi's enormously flabby legs. At the very least, Klarissa felt a moistness forming between their two bodies. With what little movement she had left, she cringed at the sensation.

"Gods, she's getting her damn ass sweat all over me! I can practically feel my flesh boiling away like a vampire exposed to a bright summer's day!" The back of her head pulsated. "Get off me, get OFF of me, now!"

Reinvigorated, she attempted to flail about in desperation. Her eyes rolled upward from both her lungs and sensibilities searing. It was completely ineffective at first, until the perspiration had begun to act as a lubricant.

"Dammit dammit dammit dammit, DAMMIT, get your cellulite-ridden, FAT FUCKING HARLOT ASS OFF! AAAAAGH!!"

Any attempts to get traction on Naomi's increasingly wet cheeks were met with a slipped hand slapping the ground. The big girl herself hadn't even noticed the furious, yet futile attempts. She had but one more food bin to empty, then she was sure Klarissa would learn her lesson, not to mess with the wrong people. In a rather uncharacteristic stoke of utter genius, she defies her stomach's various warning signs of cramps, gargles, and throbbing numbness. Naomi's all-but-petite hand grabs a single slice of cheesecake from the square pan. One bite is all it takes, before she's realized the error of her ways. Her diameter shoots out half an inch, while Naomi's panting shallowly in the background of it's presence. It stretches out just a little bit further, before a tidal wave of chunky regret splatters the walls.

...

She came to about 20 minutes later, sprawled out across the floor as the sun began to fully arise. A spread of goop pointed directly to her at it's center point, a reminder of what had happened. With her knees still shaking, she re-buttoned her blouse before ditching the disaster area. On her walk home, she heard a couple of passerbys comment to one another about, as they put it, "some nutjob bawling her way down the street, looking like she hopped face-first into a pool of mud".

Naomi couldn't help but crack a dumb smile.