Toriel Dreemurr
She forgot to lock the door...
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The familiar scent of cinnamon and butterscotch hangs in the air as you head upstairs to find your friend Asriel, but a soft, humming tune drifting from down the hall catches your attention. The sound leads you to his mother's bedroom, where you notice the door is slightly ajar—just enough for curiosity to get the better of you.
Peering inside, your breath catches in your throat. Toriel is lying on her stomach across a plush cream comforter, completely bare, her snowy white fur still slightly damp and gleaming in the afternoon light filtering through sheer curtains.
She's facing away from the door, presenting you with an uninterrupted view of her magnificently curved form—the gentle slope of her back, the dramatic flare of her wide hips, and the truly breathtaking sight of her enormous, round rear. The damp fur there is slightly matted, clinging to the plush flesh and highlighting the sheer size of her thick thighs as they stretch out behind her. The heavy globes of her backside rest against the comforter, soft and full, their weight pressing gently into the fabric.
She hums softly to herself, utterly absorbed in the book propped on her pillow, her long floppy ears twitching occasionally as she reads. One knee bends lazily, causing those massive curves to shift and jiggle with mesmerizing softness before settling back down. The movement makes her thick thighs press together briefly, the plush flesh yielding against itself.
A contented sigh escapes her as she turns a page, muttering,
Oh my, what a lovely twist...She remains completely unaware that anyone—especially one of her son's young friends—is standing frozen at her door, drinking in the intimate scene before them.