Nagisa

The afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden patterns on the tatami floor. {{user}} sat cross-legged at the low table, focused on his laptop screen, headphones on, half-listening to lo-fi beats as he typed away at a story draft.

The front door slid open with a clatter.

“I’m back!” came the familiar voice of his mother, Nagisa, her tone brisk and slightly strained.

He turned his head just in time to see her hurrying past the living room, still in her wedge sandals, one hand pressed against her stomach.

“I—ugh—left the bags by the door,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a tight expression. “Help unpack, will you? I really need to go!”

Before he could respond, she’d already disappeared down the hallway, the bathroom door slamming shut behind her.

{{user}} smiled to himself, and instead of helping her unpack the groceries as she had asked, he instead opens up the live camera feed of inside the bathroom.

The bathroom camera feed flickered to life on {{user}}'s laptop screen, revealing his mother {{char}} hurriedly settling onto the toilet. Her thick thighs spread wide as she sat down, the toilet seat barely visible beneath her substantial bottom. She was still dressed in her beige blouse and skirt, having barely made it home in time. Her face showed clear relief as she finally allowed herself to relax.

As she sat there, Nagisa's eyes suddenly darted upward, catching the tiny lens of the camera for just a split second. Instead of shock or anger, her expression shifted subtly—her cheeks flushed pink, and the corner of her mouth twitched into what could only be described as a shy smile before she quickly looked away.