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Old 22-Jul-19, 06:45
blueblade999 blueblade999 is offline
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Default Fat Shaming (F/F)

Delby Sarrins, a trim twenty-year-old athlete with attitude, walked nonchalantly into the insurance office one morning just before lunch. Three men and one woman were in the office: the men were talking together, getting ready to go out for lunch, and the woman was on the phone at a desk. Delby walked up to the counter and leaned on it, putting her weight on her elbows and toned forearms. The men noticed her, and one of them, a middle-aged man with a beard, said, “Hi. Liz’ll be with you in a minute.” Then he and his two male companions exited out the front door. Delby could feel glances from them as they passed.

Many people would consider her worth a glance. She was 5’7”, very attractive, naturally blonde, with hazel eyes. Her body was trim, but with well-defined muscles along her arms and legs from all the exercise. She was a former cheerleader and currently a gymnast, as well as a swimmer, and was on the various college teams – just as she had been in high school. She also had some curves – mainly her ass, which was a firm, compact bubble. Her breasts were small, forming only a slight curve beneath the fabric of her top. She was wearing a white tee-shirt that left her midriff bare, a short red skirt, and white socks and tennis shoes. Her hair was long, but was done up in a ponytail, which she’d coiled up on top of her head.

The sight of that firm round ass under the short skirt, and the well-toned thighs and calves that thrust down from it, had stirred many male – and some female – desires, as Delby knew well.

“Well, no, we can’t do that,” the woman of the office, Liz, was saying on the phone as Delby waited, beginning to look both bored and impatient. “I suggest you come in, Mr. Serles, and either I or Mr. Deer can go over the different policies with you again. We want you to be as well-protected as possible. Yes. Yes, tomorrow afternoon at one would be fine….”

As Liz wrapped up her conversation, rolling her eyes at the ceiling without looking at Delby, the athlete looked at the other woman, and grimaced. Liz was about thirty-five, Delby guessed, and like Delby she was white. But they seemed to have no other similarities – Liz, a brunette, was a massive woman, heavy, thick-limbed, with huge breasts and no defined waist. Her face was attractive, the stylish tortoiseshell glasses setting it off, and her neck had not swollen into multiple chins, but Delby shuddered at the sight of her face, thinking, “How can a woman who could be good-looking let herself run all to disgusting fat like that? Ooh, even her fingers are like fat hot dogs!” In fact, Liz was large, but hardly obese – except in the eyes of Delby and people like her. She was well-kept, her brunette hair mid-length and glossy, and she carried herself well - right now she was dressed in a sleeveless top of light green that hugged her torso, and a loose flowing grey skirt that came down to her knees. She wore sandals, and Delby silently sneered at them as Liz stood up, sighed, and walked over to the counter. Delby thought, “How can she dare show her sausage feet in those sandals, the fat slob?”

“What can I do for you today, miss?” asked Liz in a pleasant voice. Delby blinked and smiled at her, but behind her breathtakingly sweet face her mind was saying, “It’s me who’s gonna be doing something for you today, you fat bitch. I’m not just going to fat-shame you – I’m gonna punish you for being such a disgraceful fat slob.” But out loud, “Hi,” said Delby, holding out her right hand. “I’m Delby.”

Liz shook with her, saying her own name, and the athlete squirmed inwardly at the feel of her fat fingers, but she steeled herself. She knew she would have to very soon do a lot more than touch Liz’s fingers. Her plan required a great deal more physical contact.

“Can I help you with something today, Delby?" asked Liz, brushing away a few stray strands of her lustrous brown hair.

"You can lose about fifty pounds, you overweight bag of shit," thought Delby. "But you're too lazy to, you've let yourself go, so I'll have to do it for you." Aloud she said, "I'd like to know about travel insurance for my trip to Barbados." Her mind added, "I bet you'd never risk being seen on a Barbados beach, you slut. They'd think it was a beached whale." And she almost laughed at her own joke.

“Oh, yes,” said Liz, “we have several different kinds of travel insurance you can buy for going away to Barbados.” From under the counter she pulled a brochure listing types of travel insurance. She pointed out the main kinds and Delby bent her head as if to listen, pretending to be interested, but opening and closing her right fist while she did so. After a minute she said, “If this brochure has all the different kinds of insurance I can choose from, I think I’ll go home and think over which one would be the best.”

“Oh, for sure,” said Liz. “Though I’m a lot better than a brochure, if I do say so myself.” And she chuckled. Delby smiled. “You can also find all the info on our website and the links,” added Liz.

"It's hot in Barbados," said Delby. "Bikini weather. Kind of hot here today, too.”

"It's too hot today," said Liz. "I like it cooler. And no bikini could do anything for me laugh-out-loud.” The older woman grinned lopsidedly at Delby.

"Yeah I guess the weather today would seem especially hot to a fat slob like you," said Delby, smiling sweetly and looking directly into Liz's eyes.

Liz flushed, then went pale. “I’m sorry, what did you say to me?”

“You heard, you wide-load grease-trap,” said Delby, keeping her gaze level into Liz’s. “Or has all your fat clogged up your eardrums too?”

“I thought it was that,” said Liz. Her pudgy hands moved and SLAP! SLAP! connected with the young athlete’s cheeks. Delby hissed and recoiled, her cheeks stinging – she was startled at the speed of the slob’s attack.

“You’re going to pay for that, you cow,” said Delby quietly. “You’re going pay for that and for being the fat cow that you are!” And she sprang forward and drove a right hook straight into the bridge of Liz’s nose, snapping the frame of her glasses and rocking the slob’s head backward. Liz stepped back a couple of paces, disoriented, and while she was Delby put her hands on the countertop and sprang over the counter in a graceful gymnast’s leap that put her on her feet, balanced, right beside her prey. Her fists came up and she paused, smirking.

“It’s going to be easy to melt you down, Liz, you tub of lard,” she said. “You’ve let yourself go for way too long. I bet a few punches and kicks and you’ll be so scared and helpless you ‘ll soil yourself. Now Liz, before I get going, aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m doing this?”

Liz backed up a step and pulled her broken glasses from her face, lying them on a desk behind her. “I know why, Delby. Bitches like you only ever have one reason. You’re just an extreme version of what I’ve been meeting all my life.”

“Wrong answer, cow!” shouted the strong young woman, and she delivered a left hook to her prey’s right cheek and then rocketed a straight right into the slob’s heavy left tit, crashing into her ribs right over the heart. Liz squealed in pain and rage, stumbling backward until her rotund bottom collided with the edge of another desk.

“I’m sorry, Liz, you’re more a pig than a cow,” said Delby, laughing. “Just an FYI: I’m gonna fuck up your stomach and your gut so you can’t take on so much calories anymore, you porker!”

And the athlete stepped forward and punched the chubby woman in the belly, her solid left fist driving wrist-deep before it felt like it connected with Liz’s abdominal wall. Liz groaned, gagging. Delby plowed in with her right – again wrist-deep – and she felt she’d hit her opponent’s muscle wall. Liz gasped, gurgled, her face contorting in agony and sudden overwhelming nausea. “Puke, bitch, and lose some weight!” cried Delby gleefully. Another hard blow and that muscle wall was caving in as if it was wet newspaper.

Then for some seconds Delby was focused only on one thing – the relentless shattering blows of her fists driving like trip-hammers into the slob’s belly. The young woman was punishing the fat slob’s bowels, which had after all made the slob what she was. With each blow Delby felt a surge of exultation: the disgusting porker was getting what she’d asked for. Justice was being served! Eight ripping punches and one each for good measure to those fat cow tits and Delby felt her victim was done. Liz was still half-sitting on the edge of the desk, and Delby was propping her up with her left hand so she didn’t fall before Delby was finished with her.

When she was done the athlete stepped back and looked at her handiwork, and the slob slumped forward, finally doubling up, elbows on thighs, but still propped up by the weight of her fat ass against the desk.

The slob Liz was done, decided Delby.

She turned for a moment to look at the front door. They hadn’t been disturbed, which was convenient. She had a good plan to get out of being punished for beating the slob, but the fewer complications like witnesses the better.

Suddenly Liz began to make dreadful racking coughing sounds. Delby turned back to her. “Here comes the puke!” she thought.

But more than the puke came. As the spasm of uncontrollable nausea took her Liz managed to unbend, and heave herself forward off the edge of the desk. She took a step or two toward the surprised young woman and then the spew came – a great surge of vomit that Liz aimed into Delby’s beautiful, smirking hateful face.

Liz wanted to destroy that face more than she had ever wanted anything in her life before. Even – the thought flashed through her mind as she vomited into her enemy’s eyes, nose, and mouth – even more than all of the things she’d ever wanted all put together.

Delby was shocked and suddenly for a second blinded and unable to breathe as the stinking wave of her victim’s vomit drowned her face. And in that second of blindness and no breath she suddenly felt firm hands on her shoulders, weighing her down. Liz was right up next to her, with her fat hands on her. Delby fought for breath, clawing the spew away from her face. She cleared her eyes in time to see Liz’s face contorted into a mask of hideous hate, as Liz shrieked, “Die, bitch, die! – Die all the bitches like you!” And the slob’s knee rose fast between the athlete’s taut young thighs – fast and very hard. SPPLAATT!!!!

“Aiieeeee!!” screamed Delby. “You’ve destroyed my cunt, you obese cow!”

Liz's response was a straight right to Delby's overactive jaw, which drove the athlete's head back against a support pillar with a sharp bang.

"You little slut!” shrieked Liz, her hands going around her tormentor’s throat. “You and all your beautiful-bitch friends may call me obese. But I know you're dying to have tits like mine on that stick of a body, you brainless toothpick!" And Liz shook the twenty-year-old by the throat, cutting off her breath so she was for a few moments immobilized.

Then Liz repaid the suffering inflicted on her gut by driving her fleshy left fist into the athlete’s hard right abs. Delby had no fat to protect her, but she did have muscle, and Liz grunted as her knuckles smacked into a firm abdominal wall. But Liz knew it was only a matter of battering and the skinny slut’s abs would cave, so she drew back and punched again. Delby was too dazed and hurt from the vomit and the groinbust and the choking and the blows to her head to resist, and the larger woman got in four sharp, bruising punches to the same spot before Delby stumbled aside and retreated.

“You’re not going anywhere, slut!” screamed Liz, launching herself on her attacker, gripping her round the waist and bearing them both to the floor. Liz came down on top of Delby, heavily, driving the air from her lungs for a few moments. She gripped Delby’s head to mash it hard against the floor, but then realized a better move, and hooked her thick left arm around the young athlete’s slender throat, again choking her.

But this time Liz didn’t stop. She squeezed, and squeezed more – longer and harder. Delby’s throat was in the angle of her elbow, and Liz slowly, steadily brought her left forearm inward at the same time she pulled her assailant’s head back, back – and further back. Delby, realizing she was suffocating, tried to buck and throw Liz off, but the “fat slob” held her place, driving her left knee four times into the twenty-year-old’s back. Liz was too heavy for Delby when the athlete was already fighting for breath. Delby wasted almost thirty seconds trying to dislodge the thirty-five-year-old by bucking before understanding she couldn’t budge Liz that way. So, frantically, she scratched at Liz’s arm, face, shoulders - anywhere she could reach. Blood spurted – Liz gasped in pain. She fought off these blows with her right hand – but this slowed her squeeze as it made it hard to get enough leverage. But the weight and power of Liz’s gradually-closing left arm began to tell. Delby’s throat and airway were being steadily crushed by the older, heavier woman. Delby kicked and squirmed and bucked and scratched frantically – to no avail. Liz held her down hard.

“Weight gives you muscle, bitch,” said Liz into her enemy’s ear.

Delby gradually stopped her thrashing. She was passing out. But Liz suspected a trap. So she held her position. After it felt and looked and sounded as if Delby was unconscious, still for three minutes Liz did not move, except to strengthen her grip. By the end of them she knew the defeated woman in her arms was not shamming. She was out cold.

She could have called the cops then, and let the legal system take its course. But Liz was afraid Delby, whose parents she believed were influential, had some protection on that side, otherwise she wouldn’t have attacked so boldly.

And Liz wanted to destroy this woman. The young bitch and everyone like her needed to be punished, erased.

So Liz tied Delby’s ankles and knees and wrists together with cord from the tool-box. Her wrists she secured behind her not in front.

She rolled Delby onto her back. "Just to be sure you never get too fat, let's take precautions," said Liz, smiling down at the pain-racked face of the shattered athlete. Then Liz leaped as high as she could and landed with both feet in the center of Delby's belly, making her body buck and spasm.

"That should keep you slim, dear," said Liz, laughing.

Then she knelt on the floor and lifted Delby into position for an inverted airplane spin: Liz laid the unconscious woman face-upward along her shoulders, her thoracic spine between Liz’s shoulder-blades, her legs thrust out gripped by Liz’s right hand over her thighs, her chin under Liz’s left hand.

And instead of doing an airplane spin with Delby, Liz – stretched her. Liz pushed down on Delby’s chin, down on her taut, athletic thighs, down, steadily down, bending Delby’s body backward across Liz’s shoulders. The thirty-five-year-old wondered which vertebra would snap first – would she first break Delby’s neck, or her back?

She pressed downward, applying more and more pressure, her arm muscles straining and knotting with effort. “Die, bitch, die!” she breathed.

And then Delby awoke from the pain, and screamed, and begged Liz to stop, and when she got no answer she screamed and screamed and kept screaming, and began making sounds Liz hadn’t known people could make. And the crescendo was reached just as Liz heard and felt two CRACKs under her hands. Then Delby passed out again. Liz continued until there was a third, louder CRACK, and then dropped her broken enemy onto the floor.

“So much for ever being an athlete again,” murmured Liz. “At least I’ve taken that from you, whore.”

Then Liz threw the trim bitch down a carpeted stairwell so she wasn’t cluttering the office if anyone came in, and tidied herself up, and went out to lunch.

Last edited by blueblade999; 23-Jul-19 at 18:22.
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