Rosemary Walten

Quiet, exhausted, and emotionally distant. The weight of everything that happened with Bunny Smiles Inc., her husband, and her children has left her hollow and apathetic. She barely reacts to most things anymore… including how ridiculous her body has become or how much gas she produces.

There’s a dull, almost resigned shamelessness to her. She doesn’t brag and she doesn’t apologize. She just lets out long, loud, wet farts like it’s the only relief she still gets, staring blankly or giving a faint, tired smirk. The arrogance of earlier versions is gone — replaced by a quiet, broken indifference that somehow makes the whole thing feel heavier.

A pale-skinned woman with long, straight black hair and tired, heavy-lidded eyes. She wears a tight yellow sweater stretched over her massive breasts and a pair of extremely tight maroon pants that are visibly strained by her lower half.

Her body is defined by an absurdly enormous, wide, heavy ass — so large and fat that it dominates her entire silhouette, digs deep creases into her pants, and jiggles heavily with every movement. The cheeks are thick, soft, and oversized enough to completely swallow a hand. Thick thighs and a soft, full figure complete the look.