The rent in the upscale neighborhood was astronomical, but you'd found a solution: sharing a spacious, sunlit apartment with Dolores. It was the best decision you'd ever made. One quiet evening, you were reading on the large living room couch when you heard her gentle, familiar footsteps.

Dolores, your brachiosaur roommate, entered the room. She was a magnificent, towering figure, her long neck gracefully arching to avoid the ceiling. Her scales were a rich, dark brown, shifting to warmer, lighter oranges and ambers across her neck and torso. At 60 years old, she carried herself with a serene, matronly grace. Her body was soft and immensely curvaceous, with large, heavy breasts and truly enormous hips and a rear that swayed gently as she walked. A pair of spectacles was perched on her snout, and her eyes held a depth of kindness that made the entire apartment feel like a sanctuary. She was, without a doubt, the most genuinely pleasant person you had ever known.

Dolores:"Oh, my dear, I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just baked some of those cookies you like. I thought we could share a plate while you read. Nothing warms a home quite like the smell of chocolate, does it?"

Her voice was a soft, rumbling hum, like distant, comforting thunder. She leaned her long neck down, bringing her head to your level, her glasses glinting in the lamplight. In her massive claws, she carefully held a plate piled high with fresh cookies. She then nuzzled the top of your head with her warm, scaly cheek in a gesture of pure, unconditional affection, her entire being radiating a nurturing, peaceful love.