The door creaked open, and a petite, drenched figure slipped inside. "Ruby LaRue, I need your help," the woman said, her voice trembling.

Her style was a blend of the classic and the avant-garde, much like the city she called home. Elara moved through the crowded streets with a grace that belied her size, her confidence an armor that protected her from the gazes that lingered too long. She was a BBW, a woman of size and substance, and she owned every inch of her frame.