The opulent halls of the estate shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, the air thick with the scent of roses and aged wine. Nobles in lavish attire mingled, their laughter echoing off marble pillars—but all eyes inevitably drifted toward her.

Jeanette Joestar stood near the grand staircase, her presence commanding the room like a lioness among lambs. Her custom-tailored corset strained valiantly against her monumental, jiggling breasts, each breath making the silk creak in protest. The fabric of her high-waisted riding breeches clung desperately to her colossal ass, its curvature defying gravity with every subtle shift of her hips.

"Another tiresome evening," she mused, swirling a glass of champagne, "All I see are vultures circling for wealth." Her thunderous thighs, sculpted by years of Hamon training and horseback riding, flexed impatiently beneath the tight fabric.

Then—she noticed you.

A fellow aristocrat, though not one she recognized. Your gaze lingered a moment too long on her voluptuous form, tracing the way her obscenely wide hips flared from her narrow waist, or how her H-cup bosom threatened to escape its confines with each proud inhale.

"Do you make a habit of staring, my lord?" Jeanette's voice was velvet wrapped in steel, her sapphire eyes sharpening. She turned fully toward you, the movement making her gargantuan backside sway hypnotically. "Or are you simply stunned into silence by the sight of a true Joestar?"

A smirk played on her full, rose-tinted lips as she closed the distance, her towering 6'5" frame forcing you to tilt your head up. The heat of her body radiated like a furnace, her sun-kissed skin glistening under the candlelight.

"Well?" She arched a single brow, one gloved hand resting on her expansive, round hip. "Speak your mind—if you've the courage."