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She steeled herself, gathering the needed strength and focus. Her objective was before her, a steel handrail coming out of the pool (more recently installed than the rest of the luxury pool, out of necessity). Pricilla dawdled, disliking the prospect of effort. She turned her head to a previously ignored figure who sat nearby reading a book and "supervising" her. "Denise. Get Lorenzo. I'm getting out of the pool."

Pricilla's body servant lifted her head, whiskers twitching. She was a european Mountain Weasel by breed, though her stock was purely American (and watered down besides, as Pricilla's mother would oft mention). She was also a licensed nurse and saw more of Pricilla than anyone else in the house; and probably more than she herself would want to, given half a choice. She set her novel aside and briskly nodded her head. "I'll be back."

"No need to rush." Pricilla half sighed, again measuring the distance up the stairs with loathsome eyes. Reaching under the crease of her belly over her thighs, Pricilla hefted upward just enough to clear the heavy weight of the pool floor. Then she began to walk forward laboriously on her knees.

Her belly was actually so heavy that out of the water, Pricilla could not lift the incredible weight of it. As it was, it was still an awkward burden. At the last step, her knees scuffing roughly against the floor with the increasing weight, she lurched forward to grab the rail, letting go of the mammoth tank of adipose affixed to her front. It dropped to rest heavily on the ground two feet below the surface of the water. Now an even greater challenge loomed.

Hauling her massive frame out of the water was never pleasant. It hadn't been pleasant when she weighed 350 lbs, nor when she weighed 500, 700 or 900 lbs. It was trebly unpleasant now and, in fact, only possible because of the sturdy handrail. She needed to transfer from knees to feet, lifting with her back and the strength in her stocky legs. Her body flowed and rippled around her. Her hand was tight on the smooth metal, at arm's length from her side because her torso was just so thick. The loss of leverage was just as much of a hassle as the increased weight. Finally she stood on locked knees, the only way her legs would take her incredible weight. And even then, only for fleeting periods of time.

Before she could begin the painful trek up the four steps, her assistants arrived, showing how long this ordeal was starting to take. She looked up at strong Lorenzo, taking in his straight - though overlong - black mane, his long face and short chestnut fur. He was a strong horse and he'd been a loyal employee to the Blacklake family for many years. He was even willing to provide a brace for Pricilla to lean on as she trudged her way back into the comfort of the large house in front of her.

They stared down so expectantly at her... It grated on her short temper. Pricilla had just begun to move her foot to the first step when Denise asked, "Would you like some help, Pricilla?"

"No." said the stoat tersely. She grunted as she leaned forward, pushing up against the increasing pull of gravity. Her breasts collapsed down to sag heavily atop her broad shelf of white belly fur. The red cloth maintaining a figment of modesty strained, the straps behind her tightened into her back flesh, making divots at her shoulders. Her nipples were soon perked by the cold breeze despite her fur coat. "I'm fine, just..."

She grunted again on the second step. Creases at her sides were closing shut, the weight pulling down the skin on her shoulders as her skin was some sort of sodden, baggy coat. Her gut fell more into place and the weight on her feet made the rough texture of the pool floor painful on soft paw pads. "Just gimme a sec, alright?" Pricilla's tone might be described by some as "bitchy" and "ungrateful." She preferred to think of herself as resigned cynic. Waistdeep, then knee deep. Merely standing had become difficult in the last year. Pricilla was breathing hard with the effort which was almost - but not quite, thankfully - too much for her poor leg muscles to take. Her thick feet were turned outward, the result of thighs thicker around than most people's waists and a habit of sitting with a gut forcing her legs even further apart. The last two steps out of the pool were always the hardest. She gripped the handrail with a death grip and planted her foot.

She strained, but it almost seemed that she was going to stall, the weight simply too great for her leg to lift. Life-threatening embarrassment loomed. Then there was a hand in front of her. Lorenzo, always faithful had put a hoof in the water and offered his hand. Wordlessly, Pricilla took it. With his great strength, he helped her up the last two steps as Pricilla pushed forcefully down on the rail with so much weight Pricilla sometimes imagined she felt the metal bending under her hand.

"Um, thanks." said Pricilla mechanically.

Lorenzo bowed his head.

The horse provided balence as Pricilla waddled her way back through the wide double doors of the manor her father owned. The stoat had to walk with knees locked or her leg might literally give way under all the weight pressing down on it. She had a bowlegged stance and her belly had a tendancy to sway as she moved. All of this combined to make walking unsupported into something of pipe dream. She needed someone strong to steady her as she slowly shifted her legs under her, or else a cane. Pricilla refused to even consider using a cane. Besides, there was something about the feel of tight, hard muscles under her flabby arm...

She was panting by the time she managed to shuffle into her abode. Pricilla all but collapsed into a three person sofa in front of a huge, plasma television, filling it almost completely. Her fur was still soaking wet from the pool, but the fabric of the sofa had been chosen to withstand moisture (the previous one having been ruined the first time this happened). Besides, who would expect Pricilla to stand around long enough to towl off?

"I'll get you a towel." said Lorenzo after having his arm freed, then disappeared up the stairs to a portion of the house Pricilla would only ever see again if someone installed an elevator (and perhaps reinforced the foundations).

Denise spoke as Pricilla panted, one arm resting on her more than generous chest, "Is there anything you would care to eat for dinner, Pricilla?"

Oh, she knows me well. Thought Pricilla with a grin. "Yes, actually." said Pricilla between puffs. "Tell Fredrick to fix some..."