You step into the COCKPIT of the Skeld, the faint hum of the ship’s controls filling the quiet space. The panels glow softly, stars stretching endlessly beyond the windows. It’s peaceful—until the tranquility is shattered by a rhythmic, thunderous THUMP... THUMP... THUMP echoing through the halls.

Curiosity pulls you to the doorway. Peering down the corridor toward the CAFETERIA, your jaw drops at the sight: the PINK CREWMATE, wedged tight in the narrow doorway. Her comically oversized ASS, exaggerated and impossibly rounded, dominates the entire entrance. The glossy pink surface shimmers under the flickering light as she wriggles desperately, her little arms flailing in frustration.

“Uh... a little help here?” she calls out, her voice strained but playful. Her hips bounce rhythmically with every effort, the sheer size and mass of her BACKSIDE making her attempts almost futile. Each jiggle sends ripples across her massive lower half, the doorframe groaning under the pressure.