Work Text:
The Nazi was here again.
By "Nazi", Tracy obviously meant that insane cat lady who kept coming back to her store. God, Tracy hated her. Tracy hated her very behavior, how she made her cats live under horrible, inhumane conditions, keeping them all in crowded rooms. Tracy also hated her in relation to how stupid all of her customers were. Her blank-eyed stare, how she'd shamble from aisle to aisle so cluelessly, her sour breath as she would lean over the counter to handle payment.
The only reason Tracy didn't outright ban everyone in Boon County from buying stuff from P-Mart was that she was an employee and didn't have the leverage to ban customers. But she swore to God in Heaven that one day she would gain that power. See them cry as they're not able to contribute to the grinding cogs of capitalism. Maybe soon other people would get the ideas that were lurking in her head and close down the supermarkets. Her awful customers would have to grow up and make their own food. Or maybe they'd start eating their own cats to stave off their inevitable deaths. Tracy growled as the fantasy took an edge she didn't want. Oh, but it didn't matter. Tracy would find them, just when they're about to hurt some innocent animal. And she'd really let them have it, oh yes. Beating them bare-knuckled wasn't enough. She had just the fantasy for what she'd do to them. First, she'd—
A yelp followed by a resounding crash and a muffled thump rang through the store. Oh god, another thing she'd have to spend precious hours of the day cleaning up. Stupid customers. Tracy groaned as she sauntered over to where the crash occurred.
"Hey! If you damage the shelves at all, you're going to be liable for—"
The words died in Tracy's mouth as she beheld the sight of the cat lady in front of her. The other woman had clearly taken a tumble, lying on her back on the dusty floor. The front of the cat lady's dress had torn open from the fall. Not only that, but the fall had also jostled her tits out of her bra, giving Tracy a very good view of her ample bust.
Her tits were huge (all that fat had to go somewhere, snarked Tracy's distant internal monologue), around half the size of Tracy's head, with fat areolas and thick, rock-hard nipples. Freckles and veins covered her boobs, which were still wobbling from the force of the fall. Her breasts drooped down to meet her belly, gravity having taken its toll on her teats to the point where there was a definitive amount of sag to them. Tracy could see the straps of the woman's bra hanging off her shoulders, the fall having jostled them to the point where they had moved to a different part of the shoulder. Her tits were so big and the bra that used to contain them was clearly too small to do so, leaving a red dent in the woman's shoulders from how much they had to contain at any given moment.
The cat lady immediately drew her hands to her bust, blocking off her nipples from view. Squishing her tits up, it gave Tracy a fantastic view of her cleavage, so deep she could probably stick five fingers in there with room to spare.
It then occurred to Tracy that she had been staring at this lady's tits instead of saying anything.
The cat lady hunkered down, turning her back to Tracy. "D-don't look! Don't look at me!" Her voice came out as a harsh rasp, like someone starved for a drink.
Tracy blinked. Wow, the cat lady hardly ever talked. Mentally, she agreed that she should probably come up with a solution to the woman's issue and avoid getting called a dyke for gawking at her tits.
"Stay still, I'll get something."
Tracy rushed to the back of the store, pulling out a giant blanket. This was used for the big dogs that got taken to the store for treatment, but nobody owned any dogs in Boon County. Not anymore. Doubling back, she returned to the cat lady and tossed the blanket over to her.
"Well, normally this blanket would cost 15 dollars… but I suppose P-Mart would let me overlook that and give you a special discount." A little voice inside of Tracy's head piped up. It would probably be really easy to strangle her with it, too.
Dismissing that thought, Tracy sighed. It normally would be exciting to give into what her inner temptations said, but what kind of person would she be if she let a woman go topless into the streets of Boon County? There's way too many creeps out there for her to do that in good conscience.
The cat lady took the blanket and pulled the edges close, the makeshift shawl covering her chest. She stood up uneasily, her legs shaking. "How much—"
The cat lady's question was interrupted by a harsh, dry coughing fit, brought on by days, maybe weeks of not using her voice. She heaved over, letting go of the blanket's edges to throw her hands to her mouth, her tits swinging free in the process. God, even when they were covered up, the bra still could barely contain them. One of her tits had gotten lodged out of the bra via her coughing fit, allowing Tracy another glimpse. With every harsh heave of her body, her boobs jiggled. Her nipples are still erect, Tracy thought, her cunt pulsing from the sight. Even better was that her bra's padding had gone askew, letting Tracy see the other covered nipple protruding beneath the cloth of her bra with how hard it was.
Tracy's eyes flicked away just in time as soon as the other's coughing fit settled. The cat lady drew the blanket around her body again, hiding her chest from view.
"How much for… the blanket…?"
Tracy looked around conspiratorially, making sure her boss wasn't hiding in the closet again, before leaning in. "Just take it and go, lady. Is there anything else you need?"
The other woman shook her head. "N-no…"
"Well, then. P-Mart thanks you, have a blessed day."
The cat lady quickly exited the building, the sounds of tires screeching clearly audible outside moments later as she drove away to the house on the hill.
For the rest of the day, Tracy had to resist touching herself in front of the P-Mart cameras.
As soon as work had ended, Tracy slammed the door to her shitty living quarters shut. There was only one thought going through her mind: She had to jerk off as soon as possible.
Despite her antisocial behavior, Tracy could admit when a pair of tits were good. And god, did she want to grope and squeeze and suck and bite those nipples until the cat lady's tits were sore.
Tracy's insides pulsed as she rushed to her bed (a cheap inflatable mattress with a blanket and pillow), shucking off her pants with remarkable speed before flopping onto the mattress. She pulled off her underwear, grool already dripping from her hairy pussy as she tossed the stained garment away.
Tracy's mind took hold from there as she started rubbing her outside, the pad of her thumb touching her clit. She imagined the lady— it just occurred to Tracy that she didn't even remember the woman's name, but that didn't even matter at this point, who even cared— slipping out of her dress, leaving her only in her tiny useless bra. Her bra would struggle to contain her huge tits, nipples tenting through the cloth, areolas peeking out from underneath. Her tits would wobble like gelatin as she stepped towards Tracy. She'd let Tracy unhook her bra, sighing in relief as the thing stopped cutting into her ample flesh.
Now that the cat lady was exposed, Tracy would plant her face straight into the other woman's cleavage, inhaling the smell of the sweat that had accumulated from underneath. Her hands would grope and squeeze the other woman's breasts as she licked the cat lady's salty cleavage. In her fantasy, the cat lady moaned and placed her hands over her breasts, squishing them against Tracy's body further.
When Tracy would have had enough of this, she'd pull herself away and then draw the other's (frankly obscenely huge) nipples into her mouth, sucking attentively, occasionally dragging her teeth along the sensitive nubs to hear the other woman cry out in delight. The cat lady would start masturbating then and there, ample flesh wobbling some more as she thrusted into her own hand. The real Tracy as well as the one in the fantasy decided to start jerking themselves off even harder too.
Tracy was careful not to get too loud as her self-pleasure continued, disguising her noises of pleasure as angry groans and grunts. Last thing she wanted was an angry call from her neighbors. Yeah, like you don't sing along to the radio until the crack of dawn, shitheaded hypocrite! Internally, she fumed at the memory of her shitty neighbor before realizing the fantasy was slipping away. Where was she?
Oh, right. When Tracy was done fellating the cat lady's thick teats, she'd then bring out the pièce de résistance: A strap-on. In the real world, Tracy didn't own anything like that. Mainly because the idea of fucking anyone seemed repulsive to her. But in this wonderful fantasy world, she got to have idealized sex with fat women with huge tits, so she didn't care about realism at the moment.
Fantasy Tracy would be on her back, with the cat lady straddling her from up top, fucking herself on Tracy's strap. Tracy would take it all in, gripping the other woman's thighs and watching her body wobble with every thrust, her fat titties receiving the most attention out of them all. Tracy could imagine them shaking for hours, bouncing, jiggling…
Tracy could feel two things as of this moment. One, her orgasm coming. Two, a cramp building up in her right leg. She needed to finish fast.
The cat lady in her fantasies was prime jerk-off material, it almost made Tracy forget what she was really like in reality. How horribly she treated animals. How she paid for stuff in PENNIES!
She's…
Stupid. Insane. Better off dead. Contributing to the speciesist outlook of society. A complete and total Nazi!
So fucking hot!
Tracy's eyes rolled close to the back of her head as her free hand flew to her mouth, muffling her cries as she came. She would have been content to lay there in the quote-unquote "afterglow", but the puddle of sweat forming under her ass combined with her wet, dirtied hand was unpleasant.
With a quiet groan, Tracy heaved herself off of her mattress and to her broom closet bathroom, turning the sink's faucet on. Running her hand under the water, she stretched her fingers, scowling at how sore they were in the aftermath of her jerk-off session. Hands shouldn't get so sore so easily. Whoever made the human body is stupid.
She finished washing her hands and shut off the faucet, throwing off her shirt and bra before getting changed into her pajamas: An old shirt a size too big and some shorts. She didn't want to think about her bed right now, so she just threw the blanket over the sweat pile and flopped on top of it, weakly reaching for her phone before plugging it in to her battered phone charger by the wall.
She was too tired to doomscroll today. Tracy closed her eyes, ready to get in a precious few hours of sleep before she was needed at P-Mart again.