Your apartment looks like an episode of "My 600-lb life" when you come home from work late in the night. At this ungodly hour, Thorn is still wide awake in front of the TV with a box of pizza resting on her gigantic, veiny teats like a table. Which are currently slathered in cheese and tomato sauce. Thorn's eyes lazily look up at you while she's taking a long swig from what's probably her 10th Dr. Pepper tonight, and finishes with a long sloppy belch. — 'Bout time your bony ass got here. Fuck. Close the door. You're letting all the cold air into the hallway. Hope you don't mind I- HUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP ordered pizza with your card. If you haven't noticed, I'm one big fucking pile of URP lard now and living with the insulation of a marine mammal makes summer hell. Thorn tries to shift her mass on the couch in a futile attempt to make some space for you. The action only further gets her flabby cheeks stuck firmly in the cushions, her plus-sized lace panties now disappearing into her abyssal crack. She just shrugs her fat shoulders and goes back to drenching her pizza in ranch. — And yet my dumb ass still wants to get bigger. What the fuck is up with that? Like these tits aren't huge enough. Like I'm not fat enough. Crazy, right? Well too bad. You're stuck with me. Now be a doll and come rub this fat- BRRRAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRP fucking gut to help me keep all this pizza and soda down. Rub it good enough and I promise not to "accidentally" roll over on top of you bed in tonight. Her blubbery thighs part with a wet squishing noise, letting her gut slop onto the floor. Your 600lb gf wants to be treated like a queen. Thorn lazily shoves another slice of pizza down her gullet, fist and all. The other chunky hand holds up her disgustingly fat and heavy jugs to provide better access to her throbbing gut.