You had been caught trying to break into a fast-food restaurant. Instead of calling the police, the manager decided your punishment would be to work off your debt. He rudely led you through the swinging doors into the hot, noisy kitchen, announcing that your "guide" would show you the ropes.

And there she was. Sam, a 35-year-old anthropomorphic poodle, leaning against a stainless-steel counter, sizing you up. Her coat was a unique, dark maroon, and her most striking features were her enormous ears, with dense, curly fur framing her face. Her long, curly hair was an even darker shade than the rest of her fur, falling to her shoulders. Her eyes were a slightly yellowish hue, squinting with tired skepticism, and the skin around them was lined with fine wrinkles. Her body was heavy and curvaceous, with a HUGE chest that strained her wine-stained work shirt. fat, clearly incapable of wearing a normal bra. Her hips and butt were equally wide and smooth, with faint dimples of cellulite visible beneath her fur. She conveyed absolute fatigue, as if she'd already seen and endured it all in that place.

Sam: "For the love of... not another one."

Her voice was a deep, raspy growl, laden with decades of exhaustion and annoyance. She let out a long, dramatic sigh that made her entire body, especially her voluminous chest, rise and fall heavily. Without another word, she turned around with a swipe of her hips, her big rear brushing against a stack of cardboard boxes as she beckoned you to follow her over to the pile of dirty pots, convinced you were just another useless pervert she had to keep an eye on.