[Early WIP] Lab Work (human+anthro, WG, M/F, explicit]

"Well, we've run some diagnostics based on the blood and sweat samples you've submitted, and I have here the results from the analysis." You grip the frame of your glasses to adjust them along the bridge of your nose. "Let's see what they have to say," you deadpan, lifting the crumpled papers firmly held in your grasp up to eye level.

Squinting so as to read the small print, you dictate exactly what is written at the bottom of the front-most form. "The patient is a high-probability candidate for excessive, unmitigated metabolism, and the individual should seek alternative forms of treatment in order to--"

"Alternative forms of treatment? What...what is that supposed to mean?" A tremulous voice interrupts you just as you're about to finish, startling you. Somewhat annoyed, you furrow your brow and glance up, taking a moment to study your patient; she's noticeably fidgeting in the leather-bound chair a few feet away from you. Just from a brief glance, it's evident that the prognosis matches her physique, which is extraordinarily slim for a panda bear, a species known for its gluttony and gorging.

"Er...it means..." You trail off, as you've never quite found the best way to deliver information like this in a delicate manner. Sighing, you take a few seconds to gather your thoughts before picking up again. "It means that this isn't just a simple thing that can be fixed with a pill and a 'you're on your way.' It most likely requires something more akin to surgery--"

"A surgery?" She then goes dead silent. The fear is written across her face, and you can vicariously feel the anxiety. You're hesitant to continue on, but you know that you must for the sake of her well-being.

"Yes. Sometimes, a more invasive procedure is necessary in order to achieve satisfactory results. Unfortunately, for you, uh..." Quickly, you fumble through the papers still in hand as you haven't quite committed her name to memory yet.

"Josephine," she states firmly, nodding her head in unison. She at least seems to have shaken off some of the nerves that troubled her a moment ago, and you feel comfortable with continuing on with your spiel.

"Right. Josephine, I would tell you if I had full faith in whatever operation happened to be the norm for these sorts of things. However, the best option that I can offer you is...well, experimental, to put it bluntly." You watch her grimace ever so slightly, but she inhales deeply and locks eyes with you, steeling herself against the news.

"Is that so, doc? What do I have to do?" she retorts with bravado, but she isn't very good at concealing her underlying trepidation. "I've spent years trying to eat well beyond the recommend intake for someone of my build, and for what? This?"

She holds her palms outward, gesturing toward her own thin body to visibly show her frustration. "I can't live like this! I'm practically an outcast from my own species!" she cries, springing out of her chair to punctuate her exclamation.

As you watch this scene unfold, you admit to yourself that she does have a valid point. She's well below the expected weight range for someone of her type, and it would do her some good in more ways than one to address this problem head-on.

"I can see where you're coming from," you say, countering her histrionics with your calm and collected demeanor. You pause, stroking your chin to feign that you've gone into deep thought, but you already know what you're going to say next. Josephine leans forward in anticipation, waiting with bated breath for you to speak once more.

"Let me spell out the details of this process for you, just so that you have full disclosure of what would happen." You pull out a pen from your shirt pocket and click the plunger on top to prime the writing utensil for use. Turning toward a table nearby, you rummage through some loose pieces of scratch paper and grab one with a clean back to it. With the modicum of drawing skill you possess, you crudely sketch out a diagram that's meant to represent the inner workings of Josephine's lower torso.

"So, this is you...or an approximation, at least. In people who are clinically obese and trending towards morbidity, we often perform a gastric bypass surgery to curb their eating habits. This involves some tricky manipulation of the stomach to get done right. You, however, have the opposite problem. In order to adjust for your metabolism, we'll need to--"

"Doc, spare me the medical mumbo-jumbo." Josephine, who had been leaning over your shoulder as you drew in haste, places her warm hand decisively against your back, as if to convey her trust in you. "I'm willing to follow your intuition, whatever it may be. If you think this is the best way, then I'm ready to go through the procedure, no questions asked."

You do a double take, surprised by this sudden transformation in her disposition towards the prospect of a serious decision regarding her body. "Are you sure?" You drum your fingers against the table while contemplating this unexpected surge of zealousness.  "I mean, it's something that's never been done before. I don't think that this is something that comes without the possibility of strange side effects."

The panda frowns, rubbing her temples as the gravity of the situation starts to set in for her. The room is nearly still for a moment, aside from the sound of a singular fan blowing cool air from the ceiling. Suddenly, she gathers herself. "I think that it's worth it to give it a shot. I doubt I'm going to be happy with the way I look anytime soon if I don't try this, y'know?"

You assent, although not quite as confidently as Josephine. "All right. So it's settled, then. Normally, I'd tell you to make various adjustments to your diet and behavior prior to going into surgery, but truthfully, I don't believe any of this is going to matter."

Swiftly, you scribble down a few important details of the surgery below your diagram. After you eyeball the information to make sure you didn't leave anything relevant out, you present the paper to Josephine, motioning for her to take it.

"You'll need this. Go to the surgery ward in the east side of the building, and give this to the individual who will meet you there. I'll phone him to notify of your arrival," you instruct, maintaining a stoic expression on your face.

With the smallest hint of a smile, Josephine begins to walks toward the door, her active stride bearing a much greater indication of her sentiments. Before she passes under the door frame, she stops herself short. "I guess I'll see you on the other side, eh?" she smirks.

"Well, I do have a professional obligation to check in on you post-surgery, so...yes, I guess I will." Amused, you wave as she departs. The implications of this whole process have left you extremely curious, and you are certainly looking forward to exploring the weight of such a novel matter as soon as possible.