[$] Naruto Office AU: The Waddle of Defeat (Patreon)

Sakura Haruno looked at herself in the mirror. It was her usual noon ritual. She’d stand up from her desk, waddle out from her office, and go to the manager’s only bathroom. Once there, she would inspect herself diligently and mark the signs of her aging. Sakura was 36, hardly a young woman anymore. Small wrinkles had started to form around her eyes which were not as bright as they once had been. Her lips, though plump and full, had lost a little of their color. Her cheeks, full and fat, did not quite have the same blush. All signs pointing to her entering a less-than-fun stage of adulthood. Yet, that was why the gods had invented makeup. The second part of her ritual involved fixing all of her issues with man-made beauty products. Thick, red lipstick was quickly smeared across her lips. Blush applied to her cheeks with a practiced, though heavy, hand. Creams and balms spread across her face, arms, and legs. She tugged at her bra, hefting her large, full tits up. It took 45 minutes, but the corporate manager was once again ready to enter the world. To celebrate, she hoisted her massive ass onto the sink ledge and did her best to snap some cute photos to place on her dating profiles. “Ooooh, this one will be good.” She mumbled to herself, selecting the best photo of the lot. The light caught her body perfectly, reflecting off the sweat and makeup to make her glow. You could hardly tell how fat she was in the photo.

“Pfff, you know what they say about putting makeup on a pig? Right?” Ino Yamanaka said as she waddled into the bathroom. She was here to complete the same ritual as Sakura. It was a plea to the gods of middle aged vanity to spare the two unmarried, career women from further aging. Ino shoved her body next to Sakura’s like a pig dueling for space at a trough. Ino was more daring with her makeup. Purple lipstick and matching eyeshadow gave her a sexy, cougar look. She favored low cut tops and excessively unbuttoned tops. They were hardly appropriate for work, but who was going to tell one of the highest ranking senior managers that? “But I guess it’s good that a fat, old hag like you keeps trying.” Ino sniffed, her own chins and breasts bobbing. The walk from her own office had made her tired and sweaty and she fought to keep from panting. With practiced delicateness she took her pinky and dabbed away some of the beads of sweat which gathered on her chins.

“You’re late today. Was the buffet running a special?” Sakura returned, though her stomach growled at the thought of food. Sakura was a large, heavy woman. 650 pounds of succulent fat filled her pantsuits, skirts, and dresses. Ino was every bit as fat, out of shape, and heavy. The two were pear shaped, predominantly bottom heavy beauties. They were the twin tanker-assed women of the Senju Corporation. They had spent their post-college lives working here and climbing the ladder, each rung correlating to an explosion of weight. Of course, the roots of the problem had begun in college. Foolish party girls who thought that their metabolisms would last in perpetuity. Semesters of drinking piled calories on like nothing else for a young woman, but it had only gotten worse as they had graduated and started working. Sitting at her desk all day long, grabbing small treats from the breakroom along with nights carousing through bars in search of a husband had compounded the problem. By the time the women realized what was happening, it was far too late to change. They were stuck fast and married to a life of excess and bitchiness. Sakura heaved herself off of the sink ledge as Ino finished touching up her makeup. The two stood almost belly to belly. Their warm, soft fat poking through their carefully constructed outfits at key places. A tension that was almost sexual burned through them as they stared at one another, two cougars ready to tear each other to shreds for no reason other than pent up and ill used femininty. Ino finally broke away, turning fast enough that her ponytail whipped Sakura’s chubby, fat face.

The two slowly waddled out of the bathroom, their hips and buttocks falling heavily. Sakura felt her panties sliding up and between her wobbling asscheeks, Ino had long since foregone wearing panties. The two meaty women waddled down the hallways, sniping and bickering about their appearance, the work they did, and their love lives. It was not until the pair reached the stairs that they paused their constant fighting. The stairs were the bane of the fat woman’s existence, so much for two women whose hips regularly smashed into door frames and crushed weaker chairs. Despite the width of the stairwell, The combined tonnage of Sakura and Ino filled it easily. Their fat shook the foundations of the stairs, the reverberations shaking the floors that they passed by. “Are you trying to stomp as much as possible?” Ino shot over to Sakura between wheezes. “Try to keep your hooves under control.” She spat, dabbing her forehead with a napkin. Sweat quickly built between the two, filling their rolls and staining the dark fabric of their clothes. Both women tried to ignore their bodily degradation. Their lives were built on heavy foundations of denial, which was thickest when it came to the negative aspects of their flabby bodies. It was all well and good to brag about bursting a bra or having an ass squeezed while in a club. The two had become romantically desperate enough that even that kind of physical attention had become welcome. The tiresome journey continued until they reached the bottom most floor. Their last ritual of the day, grabbing mail from Hinata.

“God, where is that whale?” Sakura said, cocking her hips such that a large portion of her immense left cheek rested on the walls of the secretary desk. “How does she have a longer lunch break than I do? It’s been hours!” Sakura gritted her teeth, thinking about the Hyuuga secretary.

“An hour and a half for lunch and another 45 minutes to make sure the boss is feeling good.” Ino made a, frankly, disgusting slurping noise by pressing her fat lips together. Sakura couldn’t help but notice how practiced Ino was at using her lips, even comedically. She chose not to mention it so that they could focus on Hinata’s proclivities. . .and so that her own weren’t mentioned. “She probably doesn’t even know if the mail came in yet.” Ino sighed, fanning her open chest with her sausage fingers. Her breasts bounced and bobbed, shaking heavily in her damp shirt. “She doesn’t even use a computer anymore. All she does all day is sit here, try to look attractive, and eat.” Ino and Sakura’s jealousy reached full force as they discussed their coworker. Hinata had not gone to college. Her family had refused to give her the money, instead doting on her sister. The timid woman had searched for work, bouncing between low paying job until reaching Senju Corp. It was here, under the tutelage of CEO Tsunade,  that she had truly blossomed.

“Oh. . .BBBUUUURRRRRRRRPPP. . .hello ladies.” A clear, soft voice called out from behind them. Despite its surface sweetness, there was little love beneath it. “Come. . Bbblllluuurrrappp. . .for the. . .whew. . .mail?” a mechanical whining and grinding filled the lobby as Hinata Hyuuga entered on her mobility scooter. Hinata was fully twice the weight of the two other women. Her mass spread across the new, yet inadequate, scooter and out into open air. Soft, pale, undulating fat poured cascaded down. An ass fat enough to crush cinder blocks, a gut which reached down to her knees, and breasts that were fat enough to flop over the handlebars of the scooter were all tucked into a pitifully small, revealing dress. Hinata was the golden goose of the Senju Corporation, constantly doted on and spoiled by Tsunade. Her fat ass was driven to work in a sports car, the suspension of which had been ruined by Hinata’s weight. Diamond rings decorated her sausage fingers. Golden, glittering, $1800 earrings sparkled from her ears. A necklace that had once belonged to a queen rode her neck rolls and disappeared into her canyon cleavage. Her nails were done with such intricacy that they could be displayed in a museum.

Her scooter rolled around to the backside of the desk. She smiled, hefting one watermelon breast and then the other so that they could rest on the desk. They landed with heavy thuds, making Ino and Sakura wince. Hinata no longer had a keyboard because of those breasts, instead writing everything down on notepads. . .in the rare moments that she felt like doing work. “Lady Tsunade needed to. . .hee-hee. . .speak to me about private matters. You know. . .” she rubbed her massive stomach, her bingo-wing biceps slapping against her love handles. “Very hush, hush stuff.” she couldn’t help but blush, thinking about the thorough work she and the CEO had just finished.

“Great.” Sakura said, her eyes narrowing. “Is our mail in yet?” She asked flatly, trying to keep her eyes from getting sucked into Hinata’s breasts. They were just so huge and out there. It was impossible to ignore the fact that they took up an entire desk by their own mass. Harder still to believe that Hinata had once been a 110 pound waif, hardly more than a stick figure when Tsunade first hired her. Meanwhile, despite their own size, Ino and Sakura were never selected by the CEO for private “chats”. Things had truly changed when Hinata was hired and then again when she began to gain weight. The workplace, which had been hostile to Ino and Sakura’s fat, had quickly become body positive and even encouraged hedonism. Soda, first in cans and then in two liter bottles, was kept in full stock in the breakroom. Cake, donuts, chocolate bars, and caramel treats spilled from the shelves. The company tread-desks were removed and the quarterly weight loss challenges were suddenly stopped. This all happened as Hinata’s weight rose meteorically. And, suspiciously, thumps, moans, squeals, and belches could be heard from Tsunade’s spacious office every morning when Hinata arrived on site.

“Yeah. . .” Ino wanted to tack an insult on to her sentence, but she knew that would only get her sent to the HR director: Shizune. Few things were worse than making Hinata upset within earshot of Shizune or Tsunade. Hinata simply tilted her head at Ino, her thick chins wobbling, and waited to see what she would say. “. . .is the mail in yet?” Ino managed to stammer.

“Oh, shoot. . .I haven’t. . .oof. . .got a chance . . .to check.” Hinata said, once again hefting and slapping her massive breasts back onto her belly-plateau. She wheeled her tank-like body around and scooted towards the mail room. Sakura and Ino were once again treated to a view of Hinata’s spreading asscheeks, mountainous and very animated. While a ball of dough and fat, Sakura and Ino would quickly change places with Hinata so they could experience the good life. Here was a woman who wanted for nothing. Her life was spent eating, fucking, and pretending to work. She merely had to sit back, fatten up, and let Tsunade spoil her. It was exactly what the twin management hogs had always dreamed of. It was a pain deeper than any other to see this everyday but come no closer to reaching the goal. Hinata was in, they were out, and there was little they could do to change that. Despite constantly getting fatter, Tsunade only seemed to have eyes for Hinata; her lazy hippo. The scooter slowly pulled back towards the two women, Hinata rasing her pillowy arms in mock confusion. “Gosh, I don’t think it’s. . .ugh. . .come in yet.” She licked her lips as she felt her immense breasts again, the desk cracking slightly beneath their weight. “Maybe come back later?” She smiled, eyes inclining towards the stair again.

Sakura and Ino sighed, turning slowly and waddling back towards the stairs. It was going to be a long climb up and each step they would hear Hinata giggling.