Free Giving The Billionaire Curves (BBW, billionaire breeding erotica) by Roxie Feurouge

Today is my birthday.
     
    I'm turning 25. I guess today would normally be an amazing day for most people, filled with parties and cake and presents, but I'm just shaking with anxiety and considering calling off from work. No, that'd seem suspicious though.
     
    See, I guess most people wouldn't mind getting cake and having a short party at work for their birthday, but I do. Because I'm fat. And I work at a gym. This wasn't an issue until a new manager was hired in who promptly fired most of the people that liked me and replaced them with assholes who mock me for being overweight. The manager either joins in or just lets it happen, and even yells at me when I have to go to the bathroom and compose myself or cry afterward!
     
    I have to go in, though. If I call off on my birthday I might get fired, and I've been looking for another job since my manager was hired. There are none out there for me, or for anyone really. So even though they abuse me, I need to pay for my apartment, so I have to work.
     
    I brush out my long, brown hair. The waves reach down to about the center of my back. The oils I put in my hair on occasion keeps it shiny and healthy, and I'm proud of that. Brushing some brown mascara over my thick eyelashes, I flutter my green eyes a bit. Even just looking at myself in my mirror, I can see that I'm trying to hold back tears. I take a second and try to compose myself enough to not give away how upset I am. They're like hyenas, and my emotions are a juice steak. I can't let them eat me alive.
     
    I blast pop music on my drive to work. The pink blouse I put over my khaki pants looks slimming, in my opinion, even though it's a little tight around my waist and you can see a hint of my muffin top. I arrive a few minutes early, but it looks like everyone's already there. Sighing and adjusting my hair and checking my makeup, I get out of my car and head inside the tall building. The front of the building is mostly windows, tinted slightly to give our patrons some privacy. I head over to my desk, the front lines of the gym, where every new member or visitor checks in and pays before heading to the machines.
     
    I open my bottom drawer and stuff my purse in there, pull a pen out from another drawer, and set to work filling out the paperwork for some new gym members. Best to keep myself busy- if everyone sees me working maybe they won't bother me with taunting.
     
    Of course that hope goes right out the window as I hear the clicking of Maria's high heeled shoes. She helps with the phones and does personal secretarial work for the manager, typing his letters and getting him food most often. She's an absolute bombshell, her long blonde hair and Nordic features awe inspiring even while she's insulting me. Today she's wearing what looks like a very expensive red dress with black heels, her cleavage shaking a bit with each step toward me.
     
    “Happy birthday, Sarah! Why don't you join us in the break room for some cake!” Her cheery voice has me on edge. This is always how she sounds when she's about to do something extremely mean to me. I try to gulp down the knot in my throat and smile, but I know I only come off as pathetic. I set my pen down on my desk and stand up.
     
    Following her, my hands begin to shake again. Trying my best to prepare myself for what's to come, I take deep breaths, in and out, as I watch her hips sway back and forth with her movements.
     
    The break room is decorated, colorful streamers and confetti placed here and there. The white board on the fridge even says “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARAH”. As I enter the room, I'm greeted with smiles and pats on the back.
     
    The warm welcome actually calms me down, and I smile and thank everyone. There's a cake on the table, but I can't quite read it before Maria moves in front of it. There's a flick of a lighter, and the candles that read 25 come to life. My coworkers push me towards the table.
     
    I bend over and blow out the candles, my eyes closed.