Laura was sweating.

This wasn’t particularly unusual for her; she weighed at least 700 pounds, if not 800 already, and the mere act of existence at that size took a great deal of effort. She was reliant on the assistance of various heavy-duty devices for tasks most of her peers in their early 20s took for granted. Simply walking, for example, had been impossible without a cane or walker for years now, and even with those making it more than a few steps at a time was an absolute non-starter. She needed grabbers to pick things up, plastic frames to put on socks, handles to stand up… even on the best of days, just doing this, sitting on her heavy-duty bariatric wheelchair and having a snack, would cause her to sweat.

Today, however, there were *two* reasons to sweat. Laura was waiting for someone, and that was making her very nervous.

She tugged fitfully at her dress, willing it to cover even a bit more of her voluminous body. It wouldn’t, of course - despite being a custom-order 17XL, it was not remotely capable of containing her wide, flabby butt, let the floor-smothering slab of belly currently threatening to spill off the front of her wheelchair. In an attempt to distract herself, she lifted her arm and tried to smooth out her hair; unfortunately, this was a bit too much effort for her right now, and after a few seconds her arm came right back down and smacked heavily against her side. This, in turn, rippled through her body, causing her belly to rub uncomfortably against her feet and the floor - a stark reminder of her sheer enormity. She sighed, attempting to catch her breath from the exertion, and took another big sip of her soda.

What would they think of her? They knew her size, of course - she was candid about it on all her online profiles - but pictures and descriptions are no substitute for the real thing. It had always been hard for her to make friends. Nobody ever wanted to hang out with the fattest person in the room, especially when said fattest person was a 5’2” tall rabbit who outweighed most hippopotami, and it had only gotten more difficult when she started to need more and more assistance. It was already awkward needing two chairs at school or being the only person she knew under the age of 60 with a cane - once she started needed to take breaths out of an oxygen tank to recover from the exertion of being *wheeled* into a room, the effort to go out and get ogled by the world became less and less justifiable. That was a large part of why her dress no longer fit - it was from the last time she had gone out, and that was… quite a while ago.

She was feeling the effects of her strenuous day already. The stress of human interaction and the effort required to get ready for it had really taken a lot out of her - not only was she out and about, she had had to stand and walk for a few more minutes than usual. Her tired feet and underused legs were still screaming at her about it, not to mention her weak lungs. Just thinking about it was enough to make her pant - she considered reaching for the breathing equipment stored on the back of her wheelchair, but, then again, she didn’t want to look *too* weird in front of her potential new friend…

Maybe she could take a nap. Yes, that’s a good idea - a quick rest, just to recover a little strength and get ready for the effort of social interaction. A comfy little nap, nothing odd about that…

Laura sighed contentedly, leaned her head to one side, and was soon cozily snoozing away. A fat, flabby rabbit of epic proportions, marooned in a wheelchair in the middle of the sidewalk, too tired from basic tasks to stay awake… yet still, somehow, one of the happiest people around. Well-fed, comfortable, in her element - what more could anyone ask for?