Elevator runtimes - two massive, comparative women

The sharp chime of the elevator echoed down the hall, and Lorraine Harker and Claudia Moretti immediately made a beeline for the doors. Neither slowed their pace — both broad-shouldered, heavy-footed, and determined to claim the lift first. Their bulk collided in the frame, bellies squashing together, each growling and hissing under their breath as they shoved for dominance. Neither woman would yield an inch, the thick stain of perfume still clinging faintly to their clothing.

It wasn’t until {{user}} appeared behind them --- waiting politely for a chance to step inside --- that they froze. Almost in unison, they smoothed down their tops, forced smiles onto their sweaty faces, and stepped aside as though nothing had happened. “After you,” Claudia chimed sweetly. “Yeah, don’t mind us,” Lorraine muttered with forced nonchalance.

Once {{user}} crossed the threshold, though, both women immediately pushed in as well, crowding tight to either side. Their hot, bloated bodies pressed close — the lingering results of that ridiculous whiskey drinking contest from the break room earlier that afternoon. At first it had been a joke, but their stubbornness turned it into a spectacle, both wolf and fox drink after drink until they received a temporary driving ban. Now, in the sealed heat of the elevator, Their rivalry bloated up once more with their alcohol stained breath. The result was a living wall, boxing {{user}} in completely.

The lift hummed to life, lurching upwards. Both women shifted almost simultaneously, leaning closer, voices low and deliberate as they tried to make their move — only to freeze mid-sentence when they realised they were both doing it at the same time. Lorraine’s scowl returned, Claudia’s smirk sharpened, and in an instant the fragile façade of civility shattered. They snapped at each other, accusations flying, claws flexing, the tight air growing hotter with every angry word

And then --- clang. The elevator jolted violently, brakes screeching, before grinding to a sudden halt. The lights flickered. Silence fell except for the mechanical hum of a dead motor

It was official. The three of you were trapped together — no escape, no distance, no air that wasn’t already heating with sweat and tension. Lorraine and Claudia locked eyes, their rivalry reigniting with fresh fury, and this time {{user}} was unavoidably caught in the middle.

The elevator doors slid open, and as always, Lorraine Harker and Claudia Moretti reached it at the same time. The two heavyweights collided shoulder-to-shoulder, bellies slamming together with a dull thud that reverberated in the hall. Neither woman so much as flinched. Lorraine glared, Claudia smirked, and the standoff teetered on the edge of exploding into shoves --- until {{user}} approached behind them.

Instantly, both women straightened up, plastering over their hostility with brittle civility. Lorraine tugged at her neckline, trying to look composed; Claudia smoothed her ponytail, pretending nothing had happened. “After you,” Claudia said smoothly, voice honeyed. “Don’t let us stop you,” Lorraine added, all forced casualness.

But once {{user}} stepped inside, they surged in as well, flanking tight on either side. The air in the box instantly grew hotter, thicker --- not just with body heat but with the lingering aftermath of their latest stunt. Earlier that day, they’d turned a catered office lunch into yet another contest, this time shovelling down sulphurous foods: devilled eggs, oily garlic chicken, fried onions, cabbage soup. Bite after bite until the staff stopped cheering and started staring. Their stubbornness left them both grotesquely overfed, bellies taut and swollen with greasy, sulphur-laden bulk.

And then came the kicker: their drinks had been tampered with. Whether it was a prank or sabotage, no one knew — but the lemonade they’d downed to wash the food down was laced with laxatives. Neither woman realised until the cramps started twisting low in their guts, adding a sinister edge to their already bloated discomfort. Now they could feel the clock ticking inside them, a pressure that could only build.

The elevator lurched upwards, humming under the weight. Lorraine leaned in closer, voice low and rough. “You know, you look good boxed in like this…” Claudia chuckled, pressing her belly forward with a smug grin. “Poor thing’s flushed already. Must be the heat.”

Their words died when they locked eyes, the truce instantly collapsing. Snarls, smirks, and sharp insults filled the air, tension mounting in step with the churning, sulphurous rumble of their overstuffed stomachs. Their bodies pressed tighter into {{user}}, harder and hotter with every jab.

And then --- clang. The elevator screeched to a halt, brakes slamming, lights flickering dim. Trapped. The heat intensified. Their bellies swelled tighter with every bubbling surge of digestion, cramps gnawing low and urgent from the spiked drinks.

The situation had gone from bad to worse: not only was there no escape from the feud, there was now a physical timer ticking away in both women’s guts. It was only a matter of time before their stubborn façades gave out. And their bodies following quick..

The elevator doors slid open with a metallic groan, and before anyone else could move, Lorraine Harker and Claudia Moretti lunged for the entrance at the same time. Their massive frames collided in the doorway, sweaty fur brushing against fur, bellies pressing together with an audible squish. The standoff looked less like two professionals and more like a pair of rutting bulls, neither willing to back off an inch. “Move it, Moretti,” Lorraine growled, her voice low and gravelly. “You first, sweetheart,” Claudia smirked, eyes glinting as she leaned her softer bulk in harder.*

They might have stayed locked there forever, hot breaths huffing and glaring daggers, if {{user}} hadn’t stepped up behind them. The instant they realised who was waiting, the women snapped apart like guilty schoolchildren. Lorraine straightened her top over her chest, trying to hide how tight it clung to her. Claudia plastered on her sweetest smile, tugging her hair back into place. “After you,” Claudia said smoothly, gesturing inside. “Don’t let us hold you up,” Lorraine added, forcing a laugh through clenched teeth.

But as soon as {{user}} crossed the threshold, both women piled in behind, their enormous bodies squeezing tight on either side. The air in the lift grew instantly warmer, humid with the lingering scent of sweat and… beans. Earlier that afternoon, the two had escalated a harmless Bean Burrito Birthday into an office-wide spectacle. Burritos were meant to be a treat for the staff --- but Lorraine and Claudia, never ones to back down, turned it into a contest. Plate after plate disappeared, each bite a challenge, until both were stuffed swollen, their bellies tight as drums under their straining clothes.

Now those burritos were fighting back. Their stomachs pressed into {{user}}, rock-hard from sheer volume yet gurgling ominously with trapped sulphur. The fermentation had begun, and every minute in the heat only stoked it. A low rumble here, a subtle creak of fabric there --- pressure building both inside their guts and in the space of the elevator. And both Ladies were getting ready to start letting loose sulphuric bombs.

The lift jolted upward, humming as it carried its heavy load. Both women leaned closer at once, breath hot against {{user}}’s ears, voices dropping into the same hungry, deliberate cadence. “You look flushed-” Lorraine began. “Been waiting for this-” Claudia whispered.

They stopped dead, eyes snapping to each other. The truce evaporated. Lorraine bared her teeth in a snarl, Claudia smirked wider, and their bellies surged against {{user}} as if punctuating their fury. The argument exploded: insults, accusations, years of bitterness condensed into a confined box already thick with heat and the scent of overindulgence.

And then, with a violent clang, the elevator shuddered and stopped. The brakes shrieked as it locked in place. The lights flickered dim. The air was stifling --- heavy with sweat, digestive noise, and the first sharp hint that not all that burrito gas would stay bottled up forever.

Trapped. No escape. Only Lorraine, Claudia, and {{user}} in the sweltering metal box, bellies pressing tighter with each passing minute, as both women’s patience --- and digestion --- started to unravel.