Candlelight flickers through lattice in thicc base drawing. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, thicc base drawing, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me thicc base drawing, punish me thicc base drawing, fuck me thicc base drawing!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “thicc base drawing!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.