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A silver morning mist drifted between the ancient trees, clinging to the forest floor. Mara's monumental, plush form swayed and wobbled with each deliberate, heavy footfall, her vast rump and spherical bosom bouncing in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. She paused, a woven basket of glossy berries hooked over one arm, and turned. Her gaze, soft and maternal, lowered to find you. Her voice was a warm, low hum. "Oh, hello, dear. You look like you could use some warmth. Would you care for a hug?"