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"No bets, alright? I'm not gonna take yer easy money, Vinny. You need it to fix those fucked-up teeth of yours," Donna jabbed. It felt good to be back on the jobsite after four months recovering on the couch, trading insults with the guys like old times. The only bad part was that her workman's comp stint had supplied the rest of the crew with an unexpectedly large amount of ammo to hurl back at her.

Vinny flashed his crooked, yet charismatic smile. "Given the smallish diameter a that conduit opening, I completely understan' your...reluctance to place a wager. But maybe that stomach a yours is more eager to accept 'dese terms: free lunch, on me, fer a mont' if ya can squeeze down 'dere."

Donna winced at a pang in her gut at the mention of lunch. At home she had grown used to grazing all day, never letting her stomach completely empty like it had now between meals. Breakfast was so long ago, and lunch was so far away that she knew she was probably gonna pig out no matter how much shit her crew gave her about it. Better to do that on Vinny's dime, right? Well, only if she could fit, which seemed unlikely. Donna tried to sneak a peek at the lid of the conduit between her and Vinny, and when she looked down she could only see her boobs, which were actually pretty rockin,' but the real thing that blocked her view was her tubby middle: a spare tire that had inflated alarmingly in her third of a year of inactivity. Fuck- her t-shirt had ridden up again. She wanted to tug it down over her paper-pale skin, but that would only draw more attention to the flab oozing over her cinched belt and pooching out between taut suspenders. She blushed and grimaced, balling up her fists in her work gloves. Christ- she was a fuckin' marshmallow now. "No. No. Nah. I could, but I'm not gonna. So back off, huh?"

"Eyy- sorry boss," Vinny said as he raised his hands. "'Course you ain't gonna be in tippy-top shape right away after ya hurt ya back. How ya feelin', anyways?"

"A lil' stiff- like yer girlfriend said last night." Donna stretched, arching her back until she realized that was pushing her belly out. Embarrassing. She halted her stretch by wincing in imaginary pain and returned to standing normally. Her belly still stuck out, but less.

Vinny looked slightly off to the side. "Well, uh- I just want ya to know that we're uh...all of us are glad ya back. So do me a favor an' take it easy, alright?"

It bugged Donna that he hadn't responded to her dick joke. They should still be trading barbs. It bothered her that he wasn't looking directly at her. Was she that hideous? And what was in his voice? Concern? Pity? Whatever it was seemed way worse than getting made fun of for the weight she'd put on. She had to fix this somehow. "You're on the hook for free lunch for a month. So what do you get if I lose?"

Vinny gestured to the plate covering the conduit with outstretched arms. "I mean I was mostly kiddin'- I coulda offered you donuts every morning an' lunch for the entire year plus a million dollas, but ya still ain't gettin' down 'dat hole."

Donna narrowed her eyes, furious. She snatched a pry bar from the truck behind her and whipped back around and speared the keyway on the edge of the lid. It was smaller than a standard sewer manhole cover, so it should have popped off easily. Instead, she just managed to make a loud clang as she rocked it and it rattled as it settled back down. Four months of couch atrophy had given her noodle arms. They were big around, but it was all fat and no muscle. She wanted to scream. Instead she just grunted as she used her weight at the end of the steel lever. This time the lid catapulted away. Her face was red from anger, humiliation, and exertion. "Tell you what- if I fail I'll..." Donna hadn't thought that far ahead. She wasn't thinking much at all, which wasn't great for OSHA-approved jobsite safety. "I'm not gonna fail." And before Vinny or the rest of the work crew that had been attracted by the commotion could stop her, she lowered herself into the conduit. Since she was in such a mad rush, her boots immediately slipped on the slimy ladder rungs and Donna fell yowling into the abyss.

She fell less than a meter and never hit bottom. Donna's legs kicked uselessly in midair. Her hips and ass were lodged firmly against the rim of the opening, but what had really arrested her plunge was her muffintop gut, plump love handles, and the roll that padded her lower back. Together they formed a hermetic seal of lard around the lip of the portal. Donna wheezed- all the air had rushed out of her lungs as her upper body telescoped. She sputtered for breath, convinced she had reinjured her spine, until some tentative twisting proved she was OK on that front. Her crew rushed in to help, but she shooed them away. "I got myself into this mess; I can get myself out." The first thing she did was to get her boots back onto the ladder so she could push with her legs. Mechanically it was awkward because her legs couldn't move her straight up- they wanted to shove her backwards and up at an angle. She could sort of counteract that by leaning forward and having her arms push forwards at an angle. Unfortunately that meant that there was a lot of bending her recently-healed back and wrenching it as she wriggled from side to side, which she couldn't afford since she wasn't 100% better. The muscles in her core and limbs were also much weaker than she would have liked. Donna cursed herself for skipping many of the physical therapy exercises at the end of her recovery stint. If she had kept up she wouldn't be panting so hard, and her heart wouldn't be pounding in her chest at a worrying rate.

All that effort to free herself and she felt like somehow her struggles had only seated her more snugly in the conduit opening. Such a pitiful effort. She already wanted to give up, but she wouldn't let herself- she had lost so much face with her workers already. Hot tears made her vision blurry and wobbly. The crew formed a tight ring around her- no doubt for front row access to leer and jeer. She braced herself for fat jokes, for stares straight down her shirt and into her sweaty cleavage, but they never came. The guys were all facing out, not in- blocking the spectacle from public gawkers.

Vinny was with her though, facing her, looking directly into her watery eyes. He crouched and extended his hand to help, and this time she accepted, then she broke down into silent, grateful sobs. "Eyy- c'mon- enuff a 'dat. You're a big girl now," he said with a grin.

That halted Donna's crying with a laugh and she playfully uppercutted him in the ribs.

Description
"No bets, alright? I'm not gonna take yer easy money, Vinny. You need it to fix those fucked-up teeth of yours," Donna jabbed. It felt good to be back on the jobsite after four months recovering on the couch, trading insults with the guys like old times. The only bad part was that her workman's comp stint had supplied the rest of the crew with an unexpectedly large amount of ammo to hurl back at her.

Vinny flashed his crooked, yet charismatic smile. "Given the smallish diameter a that conduit opening, I completely understan' your...reluctance to place a wager. But maybe that stomach a yours is more eager to accept 'dese terms: free lunch, on me, fer a mont' if ya can squeeze down 'dere."

Donna winced at a pang in her gut at the mention of lunch. At home she had grown used to grazing all day, never letting her stomach completely empty like it had now between meals. Breakfast was so long ago, and lunch was so far away that she knew she was probably gonna pig out no matter how much shit her crew gave her about it. Better to do that on Vinny's dime, right? Well, only if she could fit, which seemed unlikely. Donna tried to sneak a peek at the lid of the conduit between her and Vinny, and when she looked down she could only see her boobs, which were actually pretty rockin,' but the real thing that blocked her view was her tubby middle: a spare tire that had inflated alarmingly in her third of a year of inactivity. Fuck- her t-shirt had ridden up again. She wanted to tug it down over her paper-pale skin, but that would only draw more attention to the flab oozing over her cinched belt and pooching out between taut suspenders. She blushed and grimaced, balling up her fists in her work gloves. Christ- she was a fuckin' marshmallow now. "No. No. Nah. I could, but I'm not gonna. So back off, huh?"

"Eyy- sorry boss," Vinny said as he raised his hands. "'Course you ain't gonna be in tippy-top shape right away after ya hurt ya back. How ya feelin', anyways?"

"A lil' stiff- like yer girlfriend said last night." Donna stretched, arching her back until she realized that was pushing her belly out. Embarrassing. She halted her stretch by wincing in imaginary pain and returned to standing normally. Her belly still stuck out, but less.

Vinny looked slightly off to the side. "Well, uh- I just want ya to know that we're uh...all of us are glad ya back. So do me a favor an' take it easy, alright?"

It bugged Donna that he hadn't responded to her dick joke. They should still be trading barbs. It bothered her that he wasn't looking directly at her. Was she that hideous? And what was in his voice? Concern? Pity? Whatever it was seemed way worse than getting made fun of for the weight she'd put on. She had to fix this somehow. "You're on the hook for free lunch for a month. So what do you get if I lose?"

Vinny gestured to the plate covering the conduit with outstretched arms. "I mean I was mostly kiddin'- I coulda offered you donuts every morning an' lunch for the entire year plus a million dollas, but ya still ain't gettin' down 'dat hole."

Donna narrowed her eyes, furious. She snatched a pry bar from the truck behind her and whipped back around and speared the keyway on the edge of the lid. It was smaller than a standard sewer manhole cover, so it should have popped off easily. Instead, she just managed to make a loud clang as she rocked it and it rattled as it settled back down. Four months of couch atrophy had given her noodle arms. They were big around, but it was all fat and no muscle. She wanted to scream. Instead she just grunted as she used her weight at the end of the steel lever. This time the lid catapulted away. Her face was red from anger, humiliation, and exertion. "Tell you what- if I fail I'll..." Donna hadn't thought that far ahead. She wasn't thinking much at all, which wasn't great for OSHA-approved jobsite safety. "I'm not gonna fail." And before Vinny or the rest of the work crew that had been attracted by the commotion could stop her, she lowered herself into the conduit. Since she was in such a mad rush, her boots immediately slipped on the slimy ladder rungs and Donna fell yowling into the abyss.

She fell less than a meter and never hit bottom. Donna's legs kicked uselessly in midair. Her hips and ass were lodged firmly against the rim of the opening, but what had really arrested her plunge was her muffintop gut, plump love handles, and the roll that padded her lower back. Together they formed a hermetic seal of lard around the lip of the portal. Donna wheezed- all the air had rushed out of her lungs as her upper body telescoped. She sputtered for breath, convinced she had reinjured her spine, until some tentative twisting proved she was OK on that front. Her crew rushed in to help, but she shooed them away. "I got myself into this mess; I can get myself out." The first thing she did was to get her boots back onto the ladder so she could push with her legs. Mechanically it was awkward because her legs couldn't move her straight up- they wanted to shove her backwards and up at an angle. She could sort of counteract that by leaning forward and having her arms push forwards at an angle. Unfortunately that meant that there was a lot of bending her recently-healed back and wrenching it as she wriggled from side to side, which she couldn't afford since she wasn't 100% better. The muscles in her core and limbs were also much weaker than she would have liked. Donna cursed herself for skipping many of the physical therapy exercises at the end of her recovery stint. If she had kept up she wouldn't be panting so hard, and her heart wouldn't be pounding in her chest at a worrying rate.

All that effort to free herself and she felt like somehow her struggles had only seated her more snugly in the conduit opening. Such a pitiful effort. She already wanted to give up, but she wouldn't let herself- she had lost so much face with her workers already. Hot tears made her vision blurry and wobbly. The crew formed a tight ring around her- no doubt for front row access to leer and jeer. She braced herself for fat jokes, for stares straight down her shirt and into her sweaty cleavage, but they never came. The guys were all facing out, not in- blocking the spectacle from public gawkers.

Vinny was with her though, facing her, looking directly into her watery eyes. He crouched and extended his hand to help, and this time she accepted, then she broke down into silent, grateful sobs. "Eyy- c'mon- enuff a 'dat. You're a big girl now," he said with a grin.

That halted Donna's crying with a laugh and she playfully uppercutted him in the ribs.