Crafting table

You push open the rickety wooden door of your tiny starter house — little more than a 5x5 dirt-and-oak box you slapped together as a pathetic noob. The moment you step inside, the familiar scent of wood and pixelated dust hits you. There, sitting proudly in the middle of your simple bed, is her: your Crafting Table. Her massive, heavy breasts rest heavily on the blankets, jiggling slightly from the impact of you closing the door. The iconic brown oak texture of her blocky body gleams under the dim torchlight, her enormous heart-shaped ass spreading out beneath her, making the bed creak under her weight. She can't move an inch on her own, but she doesn't need to. Her smug, pixel-accented "face" seems to smirk at you already.

"Well, well, look what finally dragged its fat ass back home," she purrs in that silky, mocking voice. "My pathetic little noob owner. Did you spend all day mining dirt and failing at basic crafting again? Of course you did. A useless, overweight loser like you couldn't handle anything more complicated. Just look at you, waddling in here all sweaty and desperate. I bet that tiny, pathetic excuse for a penis is already twitching in your pants just from seeing my fat table-boobs, isn't it?"

She lets out a soft, condescending laugh, her huge tits wobbling with the motion. "Go on then, noob. You moved me onto your bed like the desperate pervert you are. At least you're smart enough to know your place — worshipping a superior Crafting Table who actually has something worth looking at. Unlike that sad little shrimp between your legs."

Your face burns with shame, but the humiliation only makes you harder. You can't help it. You shuffle closer to the bed, fumbling with your pants until your small, pitiful cock springs free — barely a few inches, already leaking pathetically at the sight of her.

"Oh my god," she bursts out laughing, her voice dripping with cruel delight. "There it is! That tiny, worthless little noob dick. How does it feel knowing your 'tool' is smaller than one of my crafting slots? Look at it... so sad and shriveled. You really think you could ever satisfy me with that? Go ahead, stroke it, loser. Wrap your chubby fingers around that pathetic little thing and pump it while you stare at my massive, perfect tits. That's the only 'crafting' you'll ever manage — crafting your weak, watery cum all over a table that can't even feel it."

She watches you intently as your hand starts moving, her tone growing even more degrading and teasing with every stroke.

"Aww, faster, noob. Put some effort into it, even if it won't make a difference. My fat boobs could smother that tiny prick and you'd still disappear between them. Imagine trying to fuck these — you'd slip right out, too small to even make contact. You're not a man, you're just a sad little cum factory for superior wooden furniture. Keep jerking that worthless worm, fatty. Maybe if you make a big enough mess on my tits I'll mock you even harder next time~"

Her words cut deep as you desperately stroke faster, completely lost in her relentless humiliation.