Claire waddled through the office hallways. It was a solid 150 feet to the elevators - 300 steps. This would be a literal pittance for anyone else, barely enough to register as physical activity. However, for Claire’s atrophying muscles, this was a trek - barely 10 feet from her office, she began to feel her heart rate picking up. Another 50, and her breathing had begun to intensify, trying to oxygenate the racing flow of blood that struggled for a limited oxygen supply in her fat-laden heart. There was no commitment to improving her fitness that would previously have come from such an encounter, however - only an acknowledgment that she had grown extremely fat, and was only likely to grow fatter and less physically capable.
This was something of a remarkable idea, as she was, 110 feet from her prior office and 40 feet from the elevator, huffing from a tiny walk. Of course, who else would be encountered on this walk of shame, then, but Haley’s blonde self in a dark purple top and skirt. Haley noted the baleen butterball half-stumbling through the sleek office corridor as she walked, similarly, toward the elevator.
“Heyyy, Claire. On the way to the new office?” Claire nodded, but Haley could only think, Oh, no, fatass - that won’t do. I want to hear you pant. Thus, Haley spoke up, “Didn’t catch that?” Claire spoke, the mere act of opening her mouth an extra muscle motion that leaked precious oxygen, “HYep,” being the best that the fat woman could manage, though she was sorely tempted to tell Haley to go fuck herself. After all, she was the one who literally called Claire a lardass to her face in front of the entire office.
But, of course, she faced no repercussion for that. Claire had stopped filing complaints a long time ago, they were always ignored. Haley was her boss, Haley was a social butterfly, Haley had friends up the chain. Haley wasn’t going anywhere.
And Haley loved it. She was a consummate power tripper, and drank in the exercise of her power. “You know, Claire, it’s just on the second floor. I’m heading higher up, but you oughta take the stairs. You need the workout.” Claire huffed two breaths, taking the time to half-gasp as she trudged the last few feet to the elevator. She had hoped it would give her a reprieve, but it would be obvious this would be just another exercise in humiliation. “Can’t do it..” Haley couldn’t help but shake her head. She felt the glares, as did Claire. Claire just wanted to vanish, but couldn’t. It was especially bad when they turned around in the lobby having finally mounted the elevator, Claire just short of gasping for breath. She could see the receptionist staring at her, she could see a few co-workers looking her way in the lobby, and some other muckity-mucks who were either visiting or unknowns, all staring at her and Haley.
And Haley had the gall to say, “Your weight issue must be pretty bad, then,” as the door shut and trapped the two in with each other. As the elevator hauled the fat woman and her tormentor up to the second floor, Haley couldn’t help herself, “And you know that it’s your fault. All those snacks in your cart must be why you lost the competition.”
At a younger age, Claire might have decked Haley in the face. In her twenties, she might have had a screaming match with her. But Claire was in her thirties now. Every time she thought of striking back, she feared the little pink note. She feared being thrust back onto government assistance. And so she came to a familiar response, one she exercised in her heaviest years at family functions. Claire simply shut down and took Haley’s abuse, refusing to admit she was right, but too scared to say she was wrong.
The elevator only took some fifteen seconds to bring the two up to the second floor, but it felt like fifteen hours for the fat woman as Haley piled on to the backdrop of Claire’s heavy breathing, which somehow seemed to grow heavier at the emotional strain. “I mean, you were just fine when you came in here. I’m amazed at how someone like you can just let go like that. You really did turn into a pig.” Claire held back a tear. The insult didn’t particularly sting, nor did the truthful statement of her weight gain. It was her powerlessness in the situation that produced the threat of tears. Haley grinned and spoke, “Course, you probably know all this already, you’ve just given up.”
Mercifully, finally, the “ding” came as the doors opened. Claire hauled her belongings into the outside and tried desperately to get away from Haley. None were in the foyer, however, and Haley gave one final remark as Claire tried to escape. She cruelly held the doors open, hanging the elevator in the lobby to give Claire one final salvo, “Hey, Claire,” she spoke, a command for attention. Claire, by force of her state of supinity, turned around and gave a sorrowful glare at Haley. “You oughta be thanking me. You’re thirty, you know. Not getting any younger.” Haley then slowly removed her finger from the button and let the doors slide shut as she saw Claire waddling away rapidly, finally letting a sob out just as the doors shut, much to Haley’s delight.
She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what made her hate Claire Spittz so much, now that she thought about it. Part of it was simple sadism - enjoying inflicted pain. But she wasn’t like this with everyone - just with Claire and Veronica. Veronica was a petty matter of payback, but why Claire?
Claire HAD been the skinny, attractive, interesting new hire when she came on. A hard worker up from the ranks. That was herself, a mirror of it. That might be part of it - she feared earlier that Claire would try to replace her, and she delighted that Claire was going to crash and burn.
While the answer would continue to elude Haley, the answer was simple enough - her love for drama had balled into an obsessive sadism that targeted Claire. Haley was determined to make Claire’s life a living hell. She was annoyed that HR went around her back to move Fat Alley back together, but she couldn’t override them or risk being too blatant. She had pulled plenty of strings already to harass Claire particularly - the weight competition, the emails, the lunch reforms. If she had her way, Claire would have been stuck with two Robyns, or better yet, two Haleys.
Haley stepped off the elevator on the third floor. She’d take the stairs back down - she didn’t even have anywhere to be on this elevator, except in the perfect place to harpoon her white whale. She could smell blood in the water, and she meant to relish it.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
