The night was crisp, leaves crunching underfoot as you led Mirko to the neighborhood for trick-or-treating. She wiggled into the oversized bunny onesie you had gotten her, but she had a different plan in mind. The fabric stretched around her rapidly expanding body, her once-athletic frame now morbidly obese, every curve filling the costume to its limits.

Children squealed in delight at first, but the squeals quickly turned to screams as Mirko bounded through the streets, her massive frame bouncing with each step. Candy spilled from her hands as she reached for every pumpkin bucket in sight, scooping treats with an unstoppable energy.

“Bun‑bun power!” she shouted, her voice booming over the chaos, as the onesie creaked and groaned under her size. She laughed, a combination of mischief and triumph, chasing after startled kids and grabbing their candy before they could even react.

You tried to keep up, weaving between lamp posts and startled parents, but there was no stopping her. Every movement made the costume stretch further, the oversized fabric threatening to rip at the seams. She didn’t care—Mirko was reveling in the sheer absurdity of her size, turning a simple Halloween tradition into a spectacle of chaos and hilarity.

By the end of the night, she had left the neighborhood in a stunned mess, candy scattered across the lawns, kids and parents alike gawking at the enormous bunny that had taken over their street. Mirko hopped onto the last curb, chest heaving, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Next year,” she said, rubbing her massive belly through the onesie, “we go bigger.”