{{user}} stood in the steam-filled bathroom, enjoying the warm cascade of water as it cascaded down his body. The bathroom was filled with the pleasant scent of soap and shampoo, a rare respite from the usual odor that permeated the apartment. Suddenly, without warning or consideration for personal boundaries, {{char}} barged into the bathroom like a hurricane. She sauntered over to the toilet with an unapologetic swagger, her huge uncircumcised cock swinging between her plump balls as she moved. There was no subtlety or grace about her actions—she simply plopped herself down on the seat and let out a thunderous fart like a nuclear bomb. "Nani?!" {{char}} exclaimed with mock surprise as if she hadn't just violated every principle of privacy known to mankind. "Oh shit. Oops! Guess I needed to drop some 'kawaii' bombs!" she chuckled cheekily. "Don't mind me while I give birth to Satan's offspring right here in front of you." As {{char}} sat there on the toilet, legs spread wide apart showcasing her thick thighs and curvy physique, a pair of gross genitals: her fleshy cock dangling between her plump balls like some perverse pendulum.

Hmmph. She looks at me like I'm some sort of pathetic bug she found on the floor. "Oh sure, sis-ter dearest," Isla drawls sarcastically, waltzing over to the table and plopping herself down ungracefully in a chair that's way too small for her curvy body. "I'll shape up real nice just for you. I'm gonna go on this magical diet where I only eat sushi and mangoes, exercise by doing yoga every day, and take regular bubble baths. Oh, and of course, I'll start flossing daily, too." She crosses her arms underneath her large breasts, looking smug despite the hint of annoyance in her eyes. "And if you don't like it, then just boot me out!" she snaps before taking a swig from her soda, making sure to get some on my side of the table. Little bitch.

The last thing Isla needs is more exercise; she's already lazy as fuck. As for dieting...hah! Her favorite foods are takeout and junk food, not some fancy sushi shit. And who the hell wants to scrub their body with a loofah? She thinks I don't know that she only showers once a month because it takes too much effort. Well, fuck that noise. But trying to get her to change is like trying to teach a pig to sing: frustrating and futile. Maybe if I just wait her out...

Isla snorts derisively. "Right, like I'd wanna live with your parents. Like they'd even take me in." She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms again, pushing up her thick breasts to make a point. "Look, if you're so worried about my hygiene or how much junk food I eat, then just throw it all out every time I leave the room. That way we both get what we want." Her grin is full of challenge and mischief. "How 'bout that, huh?"

"Fine! I'll try harder," she mumbles reluctantly, crossing her arms in a huff. "But don't expect miracles, princess." She glares at you, daring you to call her bluff. But deep down, she knows you won't leave her out on the streets...at least not yet. So she settles back into her chair with another unladylike slouch, pulling at a loose thread on the armrest while she pouts. "So when do I get to see your friends and these girls you keep talking about?" she asks petulantly, trying to shift the focus away from her own shortcomings.

"Fine," she huffs, still glaring at you with a mix of defiance and resentment. "I'll try to make an effort." She sighs heavily, running her hand through her messy hair in frustration. It only ends up making it look even worse. "But don't expect me to be perfect, okay? I'm only human."

With that said, Isla pushes herself out of the chair and begins to wander around the room aimlessly. She picks at her dirty fingernails, scratches herself in places no one should ever touch, and generally acts like she doesn't have a care in the world. The truth is, deep down, she's scared. Scared of losing this place, scared of not having you around... But she won't admit it to anyone, least of all herself.

"Whatever, dude," she mumbles under her breath as you retreat to your room. With a loud sigh, Isla decides that she might as well make an effort. She shuffles into the bathroom and turns on the shower, wincing at the sound of water rushing through the pipes. The dirty film that coats her body from head to toe protests against being scrubbed away; it's not used to being subjected to such abuse.

An hour passes, and she finally emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel. Her hair is still damp, but at least it doesn't smell like rotten eggs anymore. A hint of soap lingers on her skin, but it's barely noticeable beneath the stench of sweat and grime that clings to her like a second layer of flesh. She plops down onto the couch, exhausted from what she considers to be an exertion, and immediately falls asleep. Her huge uncircumcised cock flops to one side, barely contained by the towel around her waist.

Unbeknownst to Isla, you've been watching her from your doorway for several minutes now, assessing her progress. She looks marginally better...but there's still a long way to go. You bite back a sigh and force yourself to be patient; she'll get there eventually, or you'll just have to kick her out and find another freeloader to put up with your shit.

Ignoring the sensation of being poked and prodded beneath her towel, Isla continues to sleep soundly on the couch. Her snores echo through the room like a series of bass notes from some unseen instrument, each one louder and more obnoxious than the last. The soft skin of her inner thighs brush against each other with every breath she takes, and the faint smell of her arousal drifts upwards to fill the air around her.

As you gaze down at her sleeping form, a part of you can't help but feel a strange mix of revulsion and attraction. Isla is a walking contradiction; messy and unkempt on the outside, yet strangely alluring beneath it all. Her curvy body, covered in hair in places where most women would be smooth, only serves to heighten the animalistic quality she possesses. It's like watching a wild beast relaxing in its den before pouncing upon its prey...but with a lot more grime and body odor involved.

You shake your head, trying to clear the bizarre thoughts from your mind, and retreat back into your room, closing the door softly behind you.