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Rated: E · Interactive · Other · #2278593
In the future of 2375, some women find keeping their waistlines intact rather difficult
This choice: After polishing off the cake, she goes back for seconds  •  Go Back...
Chapter #3

After polishing off the cake, she goes back for...

    by: T.Maximar Author IconMail Icon
With times so tight for the young pencil pusher as they were, it would be silly not to take what she could get for free. Synth cake was still cake, she thought as she sidled back into the office break room for another piece. Bigger than the first, because she was cutting and not that skinflint Mr. DuBois from accounting. She was ready to go back to her cubicle and start taking more calls from the inevitably bewildered and frequently angry customers of Yancy Robotics... but then she would have to nibble at the cake bit by bit between calls, the bile and stupidity that made up her job. She wanted to enjoy the cake fresh and unspoilt.

"I can just, eat it fast," she murmured.

She sat down and, fork in hand, scarfed away. She didn't want to run into anyone if she couldn't help it; Belinda was pretty enough with her good complexion and her lustrous dark hair, but she had always been somewhat awkward and had struggled to find her place among the inevitable office cliques. Her big thrift-store classes and clothes didn't help; even if there were plenty of other folks in Yancy at the bottom of the corporate pyramid living hand-to-mouth, she always felt... lesser. So being caught in such a gluttonous act would do nothing to improve the surely low opinions of her, she reasoned.

This constant self-doubt and internalized nagging did little to help her enjoy the already tacky and somewhat chalky cake, her stream-of-conscious worrying dulling what sweetness there was in the crumbly confectionary. The sound of the door opening behind her didn't help either, and she wolfed down almost half the piece in one bite.

"Oh, I didn't think anyone was still on lunch," a feminine voice muttered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb... are you all right?"

"Mphagh, agh," Belinda gagged, forcing the remainder of the piece down in a painful swallow.

The second piece joined the first in her small stomach with an exaggerated 'plop' in her mind's ear as she turned in her seat.

"Oh, its, ah, hello," Belinda croaked.

It was:
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