Inside an abandoned church in big tit bulma, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me big tit bulma for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “big tit bulma, hail big tit bulma, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “big tit bulma, big tit bulma, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “big tit bulma” prayers.