She turned the lights off and slowly, with labored steps, made her way over to the couch. She plopped down and her bloated stomach sloshed noisily causing its squirmy occupant to complain. She roughly massaged her gut pressing down on it and digging into its soft and plush exterior with her digits, possessively. She shuttered at her own soft kneading, it had been a long day.
“Time to get comfortable.” She did yanked her shirt off and tossed it to the side and then did the same with her bra. She affectionately lifted then massaged her tits. She then let them go and they landed on her belly with a noisy plop.
“Don’t need a bra with you around, huh? You’re all the support I need.”
She felt the fevered squirming from inside her belly press against the underneath her sensitive mammaries. She bit her lip and tried to remove her pants. She shifted and squirmed, but she couldn’t get up again. Her pants remained tight against her hips.
She grunted, frustrated, and eventually gave up. Tired from a long day she unceremoniously passed out. As she slept she unconsciously groped and squeezed her gut. Giggling between snores at the noises it made.

I don’t have a name for this blue-collar cat lady. I got some ideas for a name, but I haven’t chosen one yet.

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