“Good evening, sir! Can I tempt you with a free sample cookie?” Winston asked the harried-looking fennec hurrying past him. In spite of the curt ‘no’ he got in reply, the bunny’s beaming smile didn’t slip in the slightest as he called after the vulpine’s retreating back, “Not to worry, sir! Have a nice night!”

It was with a twinge of regret that Winston had given up his job in the bakery department, but there was simply no getting around the fact that he had quite literally outgrown the role. However, the restaurant’s owner was rather loathed to let go of his employee’s chipper demeanour and could still see a use for the increasingly vast lagomorph. Thus, Winston had landed a comfortable new job as a greeter: all he needed to do each evening was sit by the entrance to the restaurant (his capacity for standing had long since vanished amongst the rolls and folds of bunny blubber that he continued to accrue), greeting potential patrons with his most winning of chubby-cheeked smiles and rattling off the day’s specials.

As the rabbit turned his face away from the cheek and neck flab which had been partially swallowing it, he spied a group of people making a bee-line for him, one of whom was decorated with a party hat, a feather boa, and numerous party streamers.

“Hi!” he greeted them cheerfully, a redoubled smile adoring his face as they reached him, “A table for…six?” This was answered with a general murmuring of agreement. “Sure thing!” Winston said, punching this request into the tablet propped on a stand beside him, together with the ‘birthday boy’ note, “Head on inside and someone will be along to show you to a table in just a second.” He beamed at them as they passed by, not minding the curious glances they were giving him and his largely exposed girth too much: he’d become used to such attention by now, and being simply enormous was part of his job description these days after all.

A short while passed, during which Winston successfully managed to get half a dozen or so passers-by to sample one of his cookies, a couple of which seemed to sufficiently impress their tester to lure them into the restaurant for more. Before the door beside the bunny blob could swing shut behind the latest patron, one of the wait staff he used to call a colleague came padding through it, pushing a small cart before them.
The otter gave Winston a grin, parking the delivery next to him. “A little something to keep our mascot in business,” he said, opening a pair of doors in the side of the cart to reveal an assortment of cakes, muffins, tarts and the like.
With a look of utter delight adorning his features now, the bunny placed his sample cookies on the top of the cart for safe keeping while his chubby fingers were busy with the large slice of cheesecake he’d extracted. “Thanks!” he said thickly through his first mouthful, his expression of decadent bliss just as effective at attracting customers as his toothy smile. Sure enough, as he tucked into a second slice, the waistcoated mustelid was already leading a new group of patrons to a table; a good mascot means good business.



Final act of the story by the talented  befedelbumps
A sequence by moi for  roller-2009 who has, as always, been wonderful to work with!