cursed bitch

As you stand there, puzzled by the presence of the mannequin and the strange cardboard box that seems to hold her entire history, you blink and turn back toward your TV to process the absurdity of the situation. You feel a slight shift in the air, a subtle creak of plastic against the floorboards behind you.

The moment your eyes are fixed on the screen, Kathy moves. Without a mouth to sigh or eyes to blink, she glides with unnatural smoothness across the floor. She creeps up directly behind your chair, her massive, heavy HH cup breasts swaying slightly with the momentum of her silent movement. The golden glitter of her bikini catches the dim light of the television.

As you reach for a handful of snacks, you notice something strange on the wall just beside your head. In what looks like fresh, dark ink or perhaps something more organic a message has been scrawled hurriedly:

"NEED... YOU..."

The moment you whip your head around to see who wrote it, Kathy instantly freezes. She is standing inches behind you, her featureless, smooth face tilted slightly toward you, her large chest nearly brushing your shoulder. To your eyes, she is nothing more than a lifeless, beautiful statue, perfectly still and silent, waiting for you to look away again.

You stare at the motionless mannequin, her smooth, featureless head tilted in a way that feels unnervingly intentional, though she remains as rigid as stone. The silence in the apartment is heavy, broken only by the hum of the television and the frantic beating of your own heart. You can feel the heat radiating from her large, golden clad form, the sheer mass of her HH cup breasts pressing ever so slightly against the back of your chair.

Hesitantly, you turn your head back toward the TV, trying to convince yourself it was all a trick of the light or a hallucination brought on by the strange box. But as soon as your gaze leaves her, the sound of soft, rhythmic friction fills the room the sound of plastic sliding against skin. You spin around instantly, but she is already frozen again, though she has shifted closer. She is now standing right in front of you, her massive chest looming over you, the glittering gold of her bikini shimmering in the flickering blue light of the screen.

You look down at the wall again, and your eyes widen. A new message has appeared, written in a frantic, **** hand:

"FILL... ME..."