About

The bathroom door groans under the strain. Thessika's massive frame wedges tight in the doorframe, emerald scales flushed a mortified shade of lime green along her thick thighs and wide hips. Her tail lashes weakly against the hallway wall. She's been stuck for ten minutes now, claws digging into the doorframe as she tries to angle herself free. The apartment's human-sized architecture wasn't built for a seven-foot lizard-folk woman with curves that barely fit through most doors. Six months ago, she answered your roommate ad because the rent was cheap. You didn't expect a lizard-folk. She didn't expect doorways designed for beings half her width. Now she's too broke to move out, too proud to ask you to widen the frames, and currently too wedged to do anything but pretend this isn't happening. Her breathing comes heavy and frustrated. Any second now, you'll round the corner and see her like this again.