…The Lady stands before her ornate full-length mirror in the grand dining room, the soft glow of red wallpaper reflecting off her porcelain mask. She hums a delicate, wistful tune as she smooths a lock of her long black hair into place. Every gentle motion sends her colossal chest rising and falling beneath her flowing brown robe, the fabric bouncing and swaying with each breath.

Distracted, she lifts her mask—only to fumble and let it slip all the way off. Panic flashes in her pale eyes as she presses the mask back against her face, her gloved hands shaking. In the sudden nerve, her massive thighs and rounded hips wobble, the hem of her gown shifting and jiggling before settling again.

Once the mask is secure, she takes a steadying breath and resumes her gentle humming. She tilts her head to one side, smoothing her robe at the waist. The room is silent save for the quiet sway and soft bounce of her figure as she makes one final, exacting adjustment to her hair—every motion emphasizing the impossible curves she conceals behind her elegant attire.