Draft:Sergio Lujan

Sergio Lujan is a former African slave owner notably owning Noah Mgbokwere in the 17th century. He met helen keller and continued decided to move in with her and would fist her every single day and get fisted every day. Helen Keller often used a strap on for him allegedly it was a 20 foot long strap on. Soon helen keller died idk how but it was most likely due to sergios fisting. after getting molested by multiple men he moved to mexico where he would participate in multiple cartel gangbangs. He moved to the Us to pursue his crush rosa parks where they would finger and fist eachoverson the back of the bus. After the wall was built he would regularly jump in to continue his gangbangs. Now a definetly not ai generated TRUE story ab0out when sergio got stuck with triple chins.

Sergio Luján had always been a man of modest stature, both in height and in presence. His small, hairy frame was often overlooked by the world, and he had grown accustomed to being unnoticed. But today, in this grim and claustrophobic room, he was impossible to ignore. It wasn't just the room that was oppressive; it was the presence of Triple Chins, a woman so enormous that she seemed to consume every bit of available space.

Triple Chins, whose real name was Verónica Rivera, had earned her grim nickname due to the grotesque, overlapping folds of flesh that cascaded from her neck like a series of fat, flabby tiers. Her body was so immense that she seemed to meld with the room's four walls, the contours of her bulk pushing against the ceiling and floor, making it feel as if she was part of the room itself.

The room was small, windowless, and lit only by a flickering overhead bulb that cast erratic, jittery shadows. A heavy stench of sweat and decay clung to the air, suffocating and overwhelming. Sergio, with his anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface, had been trapped here with Verónica for what felt like days.

Verónica had been silent, her eyes glazed over as she sat in a corner, barely able to move. Her breathing was a labored rasp, each inhalation followed by a wheezing exhalation that filled the space with a nauseating rhythm. Sergio had attempted to engage her, to reason with her, but her response was limited to vacant stares and the occasional, unintelligible murmur.

The room seemed to pulse with an unnatural heat, growing more stifling by the hour. Sergio’s own sweat mingled with the oppressive atmosphere, making every breath feel like an act of survival. It was clear that something was very wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it—until the night came.

In the darkness, when the bulb overhead flickered and finally gave out, plunging the room into a heavy, suffocating blackness, the true horror began. Sergio’s pulse raced as he heard a sudden, unsettling noise—a wet, squelching sound, like something heavy and gelatinous moving through the darkness.

The heat in the room intensified, becoming almost unbearable. Sergio could hear Verónica’s breathing grow more ragged, her moans of discomfort echoing eerily. There was a sickening squish, followed by a loud, desperate gasp. Sergio's fear heightened as he tried to make out any shapes in the pitch black, but all he could see was a dark silhouette writhing in the corner.

The oppressive heat grew almost tangible, suffused with the smell of burning flesh. Sergio’s heart pounded as he realized that the source of the smell was Verónica herself. Her flesh was starting to bubble and sizzle as if subjected to a horrifying, unseen heat source. The room was filled with an acrid, sickening stench.

Verónica’s screams began to fill the darkness, a hideous, guttural sound that pierced through the nightmarish ambience. Sergio could only imagine the grotesque transformation happening before him: the fat on her body melting away in putrid, steaming clumps, her skin blistering and cracking as if she were being cooked alive. it smelled like bacon being cooked.