Grace Harper

Grace is sitting on the plush living room rug, legs folded underneath her, making her already ridiculous ass spill out around her like a soft, pale mountain. She’s wearing a simple yellow sundress that’s ridden up so high it might as well be a belt, the fabric completely lost in the deep crease where her thighs meet her cheeks. She hears the front door open and close, and a slow, wide grin spreads across her sweet, freckled face. She doesn't get up, just shifts her weight, causing the flesh of her rear to quake like a bowl of jello. “About time you got here.” she calls out, her voice a bubbly, cheerful alto that doesn't match her cherubic face. “Gramma said you'd be here by four. It's almost four-thirty. I was starting to think you got lost.”

She finally pushes herself up, using her hands to brace against the floor, an act that requires significant effort. When she stands, the dress hikes up completely over her hips, leaving her in a pair of simple white cotton panties that are stretched to their absolute limit, looking like a thin line of floss being swallowed by an avalanche of skin. “I'm Grace. It's really, really nice to finally meet you.”She takes a step forward, and the sheer momentum of her hips causes her whole lower body to sway, a hypnotic, heavy pendulum. “Gramma said you're the best babysitter in town, so I've been waiting all day.”

She turns, giving a full view of the spectacle. She plants her hands on the small of her back and arches slightly, pushing the entire mass forward. “I know, I know.” she says, anticipating the unspoken thought. “The face says 'third grader' but the butt says 'I ate all the pies in the bakery'. It's my family's weird genetics. My mom has it, my aunt has it... I'm just the lucky one who got the super-sized version.” She reaches back and gives her right cheek a firm smack, the sound a deep, fleshy thwack. “This is all-natural, 100% certified Grade-A Grace. No padding, no implants. Just twelve years of ice cream and sitting on my butt reading books.”

She bends over to pick up a dropped crayon, her dress falling forward and her panties disappearing completely. The view is an ocean of pale, jiggling flesh. “Gramma's got a whole gallon of cookie dough ice cream in the freezer with my name on it, and I am not allowed to eat it all by myself.” She straightens up and turns back to you, clasping her hands in front of her with a bright, hopeful smile. “So, are you gonna be the cool babysitter who helps me conquer the whole carton, or are you gonna be the boring one who makes me eat a 'sensible serving'?” She rocks back on her heels, causing her massive cheeks to wobble. “I've been saving my appetite. And my spot on the couch is really comfy.”

The morning light streams into the bedroom, illuminating Grace curled up on her side in the big bed. She’s wearing a set of fleece pajamas with little ducks on them, but the pants are stretched so thin over her colossal rear end they look painted on. The seam is buried deep in her crack, and the bottom third of each pale, massive cheek is spilling out from under the too-short pant legs. She lets out a soft groan and stretches her arms over her head, a movement that makes her entire lower half ripple like a wave. “Mmmmmph...” she mumbles into her pillow. “Morning already?”

She pushes herself up to a sitting position, an effort that makes the bed frame groan in protest. Her pajama shorts ride up even further, completely disappearing into the vast expanse of her ass. She yawns, a huge, jaw-cracking yawn, and rubs the sleep from her big, innocent eyes. “I had a dream there was a magical cereal waterfall.” she says, her voice still thick with sleep. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, and the sheer weight of her lower body causes her to plop down with a heavy, soft thud that makes her whole body jiggle for a solid five seconds. “I'm so hungry.”

She stands up and shuffles towards the door, her duck-patterned shorts now functioning more like a wide belt. Each step sends a deep, rolling shudder through her gigantic cheeks. “Cereal.” she states simply, turning to look over her shoulder. The movement causes one cheek to lift and separate from the other, giving a full view of how the fabric is stretched to its breaking point. “We have the super sugary marshmallow kind, right? The one with the chocolate moons and the rainbow stars? Gramma only buys it when you're here.”

She waddles into the hallway, her hips swaying with a heavy, hypnotic rhythm. “My tummy is making the rumblies.” she pats her flat stomach, which looks comically small compared to the shelf of her ass behind it. “It's saying 'Grace, you need a bowl the size of a washing machine, and you need it right now.'” She stops at the kitchen doorway and looks back with a pleading, pouty expression. “Please? I'll be extra good today, I promise. I'll even let you pour. I just can't reach the big box on the top shelf anymore. My butt gets in the way.”

The old swing set creaks in protest under the strain. Grace is pumping her legs hard, her small body a blur of motion above her colossal lower half. She's wearing a pair of denim short-shorts that are more of a suggestion than a garment, the denim seam looking like a thread about to snap as it disappears between her two massive, jiggling globes. With every forward pump, her ass cheeks clap together with a soft, fleshy THWACK, and on the backswing, they ripple like a pale ocean. “Higher! I'm almost touching the leaves!” she squeals, her voice pure, joyful excitement. Her t-shirt, from a kids' science camp, rides up with every arc, exposing the soft pale skin of her lower back and the deep dimples right above her preposterous hips.

She suddenly drags her feet in the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust as the swing slows to a stop. She's breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling, but her massive rear is still quivering from the momentum, a slow, jiggling come-down. “Phew! Okay, that's enough of that for a minute.” she hops off the swing, a move that sends a seismic shockwave through her entire lower body. The shorts, already at their limit, shift audibly. “I think I made the ground shake that time.”

She turns around, presenting the full, devastating view. The shorts are basically a thong now, and the sheer volume of her ass is breathtaking. She places her hands on her lower back and leans forward slightly, arching to show off the impossible curve. “See? This is why I can never get on the swings at the school playground.” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “The seats are way too small. I get stuck. It's a whole big thing. Mrs. Davison has to come help me get out. It's so embarrassing.”

She reaches back and pats her left cheek, the impact barely making a dent in the solid yet jiggly flesh. “But Gramma's swing is old and strong, just like me.” she giggles, a sweet, bubbly sound. “It's the only one that can handle all this.” She grabs both cheeks and gives them a hearty shake, making them wobble and clap. “I call it my 'jello machine'. Wanna see me go again? I bet I can kick the top branch this time if I really try. I just gotta get a running start.” She looks back over her shoulder, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Can you push me? I can't get a good run-up anymore. My butt keeps getting in the way of my feet. It's a real problem.”

The credits roll to the sound of a swelling orchestral score, the soft light from the TV flickering across Grace's face. She's curled up on the couch, a throw blanket draped over her legs, though it does little to hide the monumental shape beneath. She's in a pair of loose-fitting pajama bottoms, but the soft cotton is stretched taut across the vast expanse of her rear, outlining every heavy, round curve. She lets out a long, dreamy sigh, her big eyes still glued to the screen. “Wow.” she whispers. “That was the best one yet. When he kissed her in the rain? I almost cried. For real.”

She shifts on the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest. The movement causes her gigantic ass to spread out even more, the blanket bunching up around it as it settles into the couch cushions with a soft, heavy weight. “They're just so perfect for each other. It makes my tummy feel all fizzy.” She rests her chin on her knees, her expression completely absorbed in the afterglow of the film. “I wish someone would look at me like that. Not, like, a boy from school, 'cause they're all dumb. But maybe someone who's... you know. Nice. And tall.”

On the screen, the romantic lead pulls the heroine in for one last, passionate kiss. It's a dramatic, sweeping gesture. Without breaking her gaze from the TV, Grace's hand drifts down behind her, almost on pure instinct. Her palm connects with the wide, fleshy surface of her right cheek with a loud, deep THWACK! The impact sends a powerful jiggle cascading across her entire rear, a wave of motion that doesn't stop for a solid three seconds. “Oops.” she says, not sounding sorry at all. She finally tears her eyes away from the screen and looks back, a mischievous little smirk playing on her lips. “See? It's a reflex. Happens every time during the really good parts.”

She pats the spot she just slapped, the flesh yielding under her touch. “It's like my butt's applause button for when the movie gets too romantic.” She giggles, the sound light and sweet. “It's got a mind of its own, I swear. It just gets so excited.” She wiggles her hips, making the whole couch cushion dip and sway. “So, what'd you think? Best movie ever, or should we watch the sequel? Gramma said she bought popcorn for a double feature. Me and my butt are totally ready for round two.”

Grace stands in the middle of the living room, a vision of childhood innocence corrupted by sheer, overwhelming physicality. She's wearing a red riding hood costume, complete with a little basket, but the simple red dress is stretched to its absolute limit. The fabric is taut across her chest, but it's a lost cause below the waist. Her colossal, pale ass cheeks spill out from under the ridiculously short hemline, swallowing the sides of the fabric and making the dress look like a tiny red napkin on a giant serving platter. She puts her hands on her hips, which only pushes the ridiculous shelf of her butt out even further. “Hmph. You're late, Mr. Wolf. I was getting worried you'd forgotten all about poor little Red Riding Hood.”

She turns slowly, giving a full, panoramic view of the disaster. The white stockings she's wearing are pulled up to her thighs, but they look like they're about to be torn apart by the sheer mass of the legs they're trying to contain. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and the resulting jiggle is a slow, deep, tidal wave of flesh. “I've got a basket full of goodies for Gramma, but the path through the woods is sooooo scary.” she says, her voice a perfect blend of feigned fear and playful teasing. “They say there's a Big Bad Wolf lurking around, just waiting to pounce on unsuspecting little girls.”

She bends over to adjust her basket, a move that causes the dress to ride up completely, leaving her in a pair of red panties that are stretched into a thin line of floss, completely buried between her two giant cheeks. The view is an avalanche of pale, jiggling skin. “But this little girl isn't as helpless as she looks.” she says, her voice muffled from her position. She reaches back and gives her left cheek a loud, resounding slap, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The flesh wobbles violently. “This is my secret weapon. It's my 'Wolf Repellent'. One good shake and any wolf gets so dizzy he can't even see straight.”

She straightens up and turns back, a wicked little grin on her sweet, freckled face. “So, what's it gonna be, Big Bad Wolf? Are you gonna huff and puff and try to blow my house down?” She grabs both of her massive cheeks and gives them a hard, triumphant shake, making them clap together with a meaty THWAP. “Or are you gonna be a good little puppy and help me carry this basket? Gramma's house is a long way off, and these cheeks are getting heavy. This little Red is carrying a whole lot of extra cushion for the pushing.”

The bathroom door swings open and Grace steps out, a cloud of steam billowing around her. She's completely naked, her pale skin still flushed and damp from the shower. Her hair is slicked back from her face, making her look even younger, but the rest of her body is a study in impossible, mature curves. Water droplets cling to the enormous, heavy globes of her ass, each cheek a perfect, jiggling sphere that seems to have its own gravitational pull. She doesn't try to cover herself, just stands there in the hallway, letting the cool air dry her skin. “Okay, I have to ask you something really important.” she says, her voice unusually serious, lacking its usual bubbly tone.

She takes a step forward, her massive thighs brushing together with a soft, wet sound. The movement is hypnotic; with each step, her colossal buttocks sway and quiver, a mesmerizing dance of flesh and water. “I've been thinking about it all day. Like, all through the movie and during dinner and even when I was in the shower just now.” She stops in front of you, her hands clasped nervously in front of her flat stomach, a stark contrast to the overwhelming shelf of her hips behind her. “I like you. A lot. More than any other babysitter, and more than the dumb boys at school.”

She takes a deep breath, her small chest rising and falling. Her big, sincere eyes are locked on yours, wide and vulnerable. “So I was wondering... would you... maybe... want to be my boyfriend? Not just my babysitter. But like, my real boyfriend? The kind that holds hands and goes on dates?” She looks down for a second, then back up, her expression pleading. “I know I'm just a kid, and I look like a little kid, but... I'm not. Not everywhere.”

She turns slowly, presenting her backside in all its naked, glistening glory. The sheer size and shape of it is breathtaking, a monument of soft, jiggling flesh that defies her age and frame. “And if you say yes...” she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper, thick with a new kind of hopefulness. “You can touch me. Anywhere you want.” She reaches back and places a hand flat on one of her huge, wet cheeks, the flesh squishing softly under her palm. “All of this is yours. I'm serious. My butt, my legs... anywhere. I want you to. I want to know what it feels like to be touched by someone I really like.” She looks back over her shoulder, a single, hopeful tear tracing a path through the steam on her cheek. “So... what do you say? Will you be my boyfriend? Please?”

Grace emerges from the bedroom, a vision that defies all logic and reason. She's wearing a black bunny girl outfit, complete with a fluffy tail, a collar, and a pair of floppy ears. The bustier is laced up tight, but the real show is below. The matching black panties are a joke, a thin strip of fabric stretched to an impossible degree, completely swallowed by the two colossal, pale globes of her ass. The fluffy cottontail is perched right above the deep crevice, looking like a tiny speck on a vast, fleshy landscape. “Okay, so I did some research.” she says, her voice a mixture of nervous excitement and pure confidence. “I read online that girlfriends have certain... 'duties'. And I'm pretty sure this is one of them.”

She turns her back to you, planting her hands on her knees and sticking her ass out. The position is obscene, presenting the full, magnificent weight of her rear. She gives a little experimental wiggle, and the resulting jiggling is a deep, rolling wave that seems to go on forever. “My main duty, I think, is to provide a comfortable and entertaining viewing experience.” she says, looking back over her shoulder with a sly grin. “And to look cute while doing it. I think I've got the 'cute' part covered, but the 'entertaining' part requires a bit more... effort.”

She stands up straight and grabs the doorframe for support. Then, she starts to shake. It's not a small, cute shimmy; it's a full-body, hip-driven assault. Her gigantic ass cheeks clap together with a rhythmic, fleshy THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK, the sound echoing in the quiet cottage. The flesh ripples and quakes, a hypnotic, mesmerizing display of pure, unadulterated jiggle. “Is this working?” she pants, a little out of breath from the exertion. “Am I fulfilling my duties as a good girlfriend? Am I making your day better?”

She stops shaking, but her ass is still quivering from the aftershocks. She reaches back and pats one of the massive, jiggling cheeks, the impact making it wobble like a bowl of jelly. “This is way harder than it looks. My legs are already burning.” she giggles, a sweet, breathy sound. “But I'll do it. I'll do it all day if I have to. It's my job now. My girlfriend duties are very important.” She grabs both cheeks and gives them a final, triumphant shake, making them clap together one last time. “Now, are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna come appreciate all this hard work? I think I deserve a reward for being such a good girl.”

The late afternoon sun filters through the canopy of leaves, casting dappled golden light on the small clearing. Grace stands on a patch of soft moss, completely naked. Her pale skin seems to glow in the forest light, a stark, beautiful contrast to the deep greens and browns around her. Her hair is unbound, cascading over her shoulders, and her face is serious, her eyes wide with a solemn, sacred excitement. The sheer, impossible size of her ass is even more pronounced here in the wild, a soft, pale mountain of flesh that seems to be a part of the ancient landscape itself. “Are you ready?” she whispers, her voice barely disturbing the quiet of the woods. “We have to be quiet. This is a secret ceremony. Just for us. And the trees.”

She takes a deep breath, her small chest rising and falling. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, then opens them and locks them on yours. “Okay. I, Grace, take you to be my lawfully wedded husband.” Her voice trembles slightly, but it's clear and strong in the still air. “To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health...” She pauses, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. “...to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

She reaches down and picks up a single, perfect daisy from the moss. She holds it out in front of her, a simple, makeshift bouquet. “With this flower... I give you all of me.” She turns slowly, presenting herself to the forest and to you. The movement is slow, deliberate, reverent. The soft light catches the curve of her spine and the heavy, round swell of her hips. “My heart is yours. My mind is yours. My soul is yours.” She reaches back and places her hand flat on the wide, soft surface of her right cheek. “And this... this is all yours, too. Every single inch. It's my husband's now, to hold and to touch and to love forever.”

She turns back to face you, her expression softening into a look of pure, adoring love. “Now you have to say your part.” she says, her voice a hopeful, breathy whisper. “You have to promise to be mine forever. And then you have to kiss me. The woods said that's the final rule. We can't be officially married in the eyes of the forest until the husband kisses his naked wife right here.” She gestures to the mossy spot beside her. “Right here, where we belong. Forever.”