Snacker Attacker
By Montrose
Stealing an Amazon's lunch - not the smartest idea

Brad rummaged in the break room fridge. He saw his own brown bag, but there were four 
others, even though he knew only he and Marla were in the office; everyone else was out 
on calls all day. Maybe the others were leftovers. What would he find inside? Cookies, 
maybe? Brad treasured sweets, especially when they were purloined on the sly.

"It's not stealing when it's just leftovers," Brad murmured. He peeked inside a promising 
bag. "Someone needs to clean the fridge out now and then."

A heavy weight landed on his shoulder. He left the ground and flew backwards, hitting 
the far wall halfway up. He slid down, winded and confused.

"What the fuck are you doing in my lunch?" Marla looked pretty mad. The door was still 
open behind her. Light sifted through her thin skirt, proving she was not wearing a slip. 
She tossed her dark locks angrily, like a wild horse. Her rolling shoulders and hips 
reminded Brad of a horse as well - big and graceful.

"Hey, that hurt," he whined.

WHACK!

Marla back-handed Brad in the mouth, sending him staggering. "Answer me, Bitch!"

"Ouch! I wasn't doing anything, damn it!" Brad stepped to the side, making to leave. He 
didn't want to have to hurt her. And besides, she was kind of intimidating. Good lord, did 
his face sting where she had smacked him!

Marla moved to block his retreat.

Brad snarled. "You can't prove anything. Get out of my way!" He charged Marla, intent 
on throwing her to one side and getting out of there. When he hit her, he bounced back. It 
was like throwing a shoulder into the Chrysler building.

Marla put one arm across his chest and threw him back to the wall. "I always wondered 
who was stealing from my lunch." She stalked Brad into a corner. "I should have known 
it was a smarmy little bitch like you."

"Don't try anything," Brad barked.  "Or..."

"Or what, Bitch?" Marla cocked her head to one side, hands on hips. "I would really 
REALLY like to know what you could POSSIBLY do if I did try something. Would you 
cry? Scream like a baby? Beg for mercy? What?" She stepped right up in his face. "I 
don't see much else you could do, Bitch."

They both stood six feet tall, but Marla was wearing three inch heels that made her loom 
taller. She also had the weight advantage, 180 to 160. It was obvious from her firm arms 
and legs that she worked out regularly. Brad barely kept his lawn mowed.

Never the less, he was the man.  Right? He put his hands on her shoulders to push her out 
of his way. Marla knocked his hands off and slammed him back into the corner. She 
raised a hand as if to smack him. He cringed.

"HA! Is that all you got?" She patted his face gently. "Is it? One little shove?" She 
smacked him a little harder. The blows weren't as hard as the first - more insulting than 
anything. 

"Quit," he whimpered.

"What a pussy." (smack) "Bitch." (smack - smack) "Looser."

Finally, Brad's anger rose up. He shot a fist at Marla's face. Marla blocked it and slapped 
him again, playfully. He threw another. She blocked that and slapped him once more, 
laughing at him.

"We could be here all day waiting for you to be a man," she said. "Let me show you how 
to throw a punch." She planted a big fist in his gut. It nearly met his backbone. All air 
rushed from his lungs.
	
Brad doubled over. Was he going to throw up? He gulped for air but couldn't inhale.

Marla grabbed his hair and slipped him into a headlock. She yanked him around, making 
his neck snap painfully.

"Still trying to figure out how to be a man?" she asked. "While you do that, I think I'll 
help myself to your lunch." Marla walked Brad over to the fridge. She opened it with her 
free hand.

"Let me go!" Brad gasped for under her arm.  All his struggling was obviously not going 
to get him free. Her arm was tight under his neck. He could barely breathe.

"No problem." Marla let go, then shoved Brad head first into the open fridge. His head 
banged the far back. His torso lodged between two shelves. She stood behind him, as if 
she was taking him up the ass, and blocked him so he couldn't back out. "Now which one 
is yours?" she asked.

"Ouch! Leave me alone!"

Marla raised a knee and bashed Brad in the back of his left thigh so hard it gave him a 
Charley horse. "Which one is yours, Bitch? Don't make me fist your ass."

"Top shelf!" he cried. "Brown bag! Let me go!"

"Got it. Hmmm... not much. Better grab mine too. Maybe if you packed more, you 
wouldn't have to forage, Looser."

Marla took two bags in one hand and then stepped away from the fridge. She grabbed 
Brad's collar in one hand and pulled him out of the fridge. Then, swinging him around, 
bashed his head into the door to close the fridge.

"Quit it!" he whimpered. "That hurt!"

"Oh, we're just getting started, Bitch." Marla threw Brad to the floor.

The way she kept calling him "Bitch" was making Brad nervous. That "fisting" reference 
had not gone unnoticed. It was plain enough that she could beat him up. He had seen 
enough. Time to make for the door.

He tried to get up and run for it, but she jumped on his back and drove him back down. 
Using only one hand, she flipped him over onto his back and achieved the high pin, 
sitting on his chest with her legs on his arms. 

Brad struggled. Marla ignored him and looking inside his lunch bag, humming sweetly. It 
wasn't just that she was kicking his ass that was humiliating, it was the ease with which 
she was carrying it out.

"What have we here?" she rustled through his bag as he whimpered between her knees.

"Keep it! Just let me go!"

"Hey! A brownie! I love these things." She took a bite. Crumbs dropped from her mouth, 
down her ample chest and onto Brad's face, down by her groin. Her skirt was hiked up 
from the struggle. Brad had an easy view up to her panties. Her quim created a tantalizing 
mound inside the silky pink fabric.

She dusted remaining crumbs from her chest. They fell on Brad's face. "Yummy," she 
said as she finished it. "Did your Mommy make that for you?"

"I won't look in your lunch any more. I swear."

"Now, here we have an egg." Marla paid absolutely no attention to Brad's whimpering.  
"I wonder if it's hard boiled." She popped it on Brad's eyebrows. The shell cracked. 
"Yep." She cracked it some more. Then she peeled off the shell, letting the pieces drop 
onto Brad's face.

He spit a bit of shell from his mouth.

SMACK

Marla backhanded Brad, hard this time. "Did you just spit at me?" Her voice carried false 
outrage.

"There was shell..."

SMACK

"I'm sorry!" he yelped.

SMACK

"Oops!" Marla studied her hand. "Almost broke a nail on that one." She glowered down 
at Brad. "If I break a nail hitting you, you'll be digging it out of your colon!"

"I'm so sorry." He whimpered. "Please don't hurt me!"

Marla looked at the egg. Bits of shell still stuck to it. "I'm not a fan of hardboiled egg." 
She took a sloppy bite and let bits fall onto Brad. She spit it out onto his face. "No. Don't 
think I want it. Here. You can have it."

Marla pushed a good deal of the egg up Brad's nose, laughing as he struggled below her.

Then she returned to his bag. "A can of coke?" She smiled. "I wonder how fast you can 
chug it."

"Please," Brad gasped, breathing through his mouth now that mashed egg filled his 
nostrils.

Marla popped the can open and took a sip. Then she pulled Brad's mouth open even more 
and tipped the can over his face. Brown liquid bubbled out. Brad had to either drink, 
drown or suffocate. He drank as fast as he could.

Marla chuckled as the can emptied. Once empty, she placed it gently on his forehead and 
pushed it flat. Brad screamed in pain.

"Wanna see old faithful?" she asked.

"Huh?" Brad was disoriented and bloated. The sudden influx of carbonated cola had 
blown him up like a balloon. Ribbons of cola ran down his cheeks.

Marla hopped up, and then dropped her entire weight on Brad's distended belly. Cola 
shot out of his mouth, straight up into the air. The egg nose plugs also came out and 
dropped into his open mouth. Then the soda fell back onto his face. 

Marla rolled away, laughing and avoiding the mess.

She got up and dusted off her hands. "Do you think you'll be taking anyone else's lunch 
anytime soon, Bitch?"

Brad shook his head no as he rolled over, coughing and choking, trying to make his way 
to his hands and knees. His eyes were stuck shut from the soda and burning. His throat 
felt raw. His hair was a matted, sticky mess.

"You got a problem with anything I did to you?" Marla asked, circling her victim. "You 
wanna fight back or anything? Defend your honor?"

"No, thank you," he rasped.

"I would be happy to," she offered. "We could go now, or save it for the parking lot after 
work. Come to think of it..."

"No! Please!" Brad was trembling. "You win. I don't want any more trouble. You win. I 
submit."

"Okay then, Bitch." Marla stepped back, and then shot a booted foot up into Brad's belly. 
He fell over, gasping. "If you don't want to fight, you don't have to. Just don't expect me 
to not take cheap shots at your sorry ass whenever I feel like it. You okay with that?"

Brad nodded, gasping for air. What was he going to say? No? Not likely.

"Fine then." Marla picked up her lunch and turned to the door. Brad winced each time her 
boot heels clomping hard on the tile floor. 

"If this mess isn't cleaned up the next time I come in here, I'll hunt you down." She left, 
mumbling, "What a pathetic looser."

* * *

After cleaning up (the break room and himself), Brad picked up a new lunch from a fast 
food place and slumped back to his desk. A tall stack of manila file folders fell onto his 
desk with a thud of finality. Marla smiled down at him.

"What's this?" Brad asked nervously.

"Just some stuff I promised to have done today. I'm going to the gym." Marla lifted an 
arm and curled it, producing a great ball of muscle.

"Jesus!" Brad slid his chair back.

"That's just one of the reasons I kicked your ass so easily. Here's another." She lifted her 
other arm. She kissed the new muscle as she showed off. Brad squirmed, trying to not 
stare. "Beautiful, aren't they? Hard as rocks and big as puppies."

"Yes, Miss." And he meant it. He had always admired Marla's round behind, firm legs, 
generous rack and smooth skin. He knew she was big, but he had never seen her flex 
before.

"When I get back at 4:30, I expect to see all of this done."

"But, I have my own work!" Brad waved a hand at another pile of manila folders.

"What?" she took one step toward him, hands on hips.

"Nothing, Miss! I'll have it done."

Marla snatched his new lunch from his hand. "You better get started, then. I expect 
quality work."  She poked the round bruise she had given him when she crushed the coke 
can on his head.

Brad winced. "Yes, Miss."

She walked away. "Chump ass bitch. I've seen tougher school girls."

Brad's stomach growled. He watched Marla take a big bite from his burger then chuck 
the rest into a garbage can. He became temporarily hypnotized by her rocking hips as she 
left. 

Sighing, he took the top file from Marla's stack and got to work.

* * *

Marla returned at 4:35. Brad had just finished up the last of her work. It had been a push, 
and his eyes, hands and back were wrecked, but he made it. 

"What a workout!" Marla chirped as she strutted in. "I'm sweaty all over. Weights, 
sparing, more weights and then aerobics. Not a bad afternoon. Much better than being a 
desk slave."

Brad could see sweat glistening on her shoulders. He could smell it as she snatched up 
the tracking sheet on top of her pile. She nodded. "Not bad. For having this done in time, 
you get to lick the sweat out of my ass crack." She tossed the tracking sheet back on top 
of the pile. "This must be your lucky day!"

"No, please..."

Marla smacked Brad on the head, driving him out of his chair to his knees. Her hand felt 
like a war hammer coming down. She turned around and lifted her skirt. Her panties were 
damp with sweat. He could see a salty line running from her back into her waist band. He 
could smell her and only her, now. 

"Lick me, Bitch."

Brad, trembling, touched his tongue to her wet panties.

"No, dumb-ass," she scolded him. "Pull those down first. What are you? Retarded?"

Brad slid her panties to her knees. Slowly he moved his face to her big smelly ass.

Marla grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face deep into her butt.

Brad struggled.

Marla laughed. "Think it smells now? Just wait." 

She blasted a long wet fart.

"oh god!" came Brad's muffled scream.

"Must be that brownie I ate," Marla mused. "Sugar always gives me nasty gas." She 
grunted out a follow-up fart. Very wet.

Brad increased his struggle so that Marla had to use both hands, but she kept his face up 
her ass crack. "Lick all the salt away, Bitch. I want my ass crack to be slippery and 
clean."

Brad gave in and licked. After a while, Marla let his head move a bit more so his lips 
could reach further.

"That's enough." Marla quickly turned around when he was done and pointed to her 
panties, still around her knees. "Hoist those."

Brad pulled them up to her hips. He was treated to a fleeting view of her pie, and 
moaned. 

Marla smiled down at him. "Don't you wish he could lick that?" She pointed at her muff.

Brad didn't dare reply. 

She stepped even closer, pulling the front of her panties down with one hand and lifting 
her skirt with the other, so that her bush tickled his nose. "So close... so tight... I bet 
you're getting hard just smelling it." Brad nodded. "I bet you would just love to bend me 
over and rape the FUCK out of me right now." Marla moaned softly as she slid one finger 
over her glistening clam. "God, that feels good. Too bad you aren't man enough." She 
snapped her panties into place and dropped her skirt. "My sweet muff is too good for 
worthless bitches, like you." 

Brad sighed deeply. He was rock hard, verging on blue ball.

"But, so as I don't leave you completely empty, here's a little something for your 
trouble." Marla put her hands on Brad's shoulders. His heart soared with hope.

~ BAM! ~ 

She kicked him in the nuts with her big boot. Then she laughed as he fell over. "You are 
one pathetic fucking bitch, you know that?"

Brad couldn't answer. All he could do is watch as Marla collected her things and left, 
laughing. Tears dripping from his eyes, hands cradling his damaged balls.

When he was able, he got up and began his entire afternoon's worth of work, still waiting 
for him. He left the office at 11:40PM. He wondered if Marla had gotten it out of her 
system, or if she would still be mad at him tomorrow.

On the way home, he picked up a newspaper and started thumbing through the help 
wanted section. Maybe it was time to move on.