The warm, sweet smell of vanilla and fruit surrounded me as the spoon ascended towards her mouth. Her breath washed over me, warm and sweet like freshly baked bread, as I stared into the cavern of her mouth—her soft tongue resting like a plush carpet, the glistening surface of her teeth, and the darkness beyond, hinting at depths I did not want to explore. Panic surged through me, and I screamed, my voice barely a whisper against the massive, open maw that loomed ahead.
"Vanilla!" I cried out, my voice cracking with fear. I waved my arms frantically, hoping against hope that she’d see me.
The spoon’s journey continued, and I felt the rush of her breath as I was mere inches from her mouth. The glossy, pink walls seemed to pulse with her every breath, and the sight of it made my heart race. Then, just as I thought it was too late, her eyes flickered—she hesitated. I screamed one more time, and her eyes locked onto me. Confusion flickered across her face, her brow furrowing as she stared down at the spoon.
“What…?” she murmured, her eyes widening as she finally registered the tiny figure on the spoon. She gasped, and the spoon, along with me, passed into her mouth for just a moment. I could feel the humidity envelop me, the warmth intensifying. My world was momentarily darkened, surrounded by the velvety walls of her lips.
But then, the spoon pulled back suddenly. Vanilla’s eyes were huge, her expression one of shock and concern. She lifted the spoon to her face, her massive eyes inspecting me closely. I clung to the edge of the fruit slice I had been holding onto, still trembling and trying to process what had just happened.
“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with alarm. “What are you doing on the spoon?” Her concern was evident, her tone shifting to a motherly softness as she tried to keep me calm. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”
She placed the spoon carefully on the counter, her giant fingers gripping the handle with such grace that, even as she moved quickly, she made sure not to jostle me too much. I felt the spoon settle against the cold, hard surface of the counter, and I dared to look up at her.
Her expression was one of deep concern as she bent closer, her eyes focusing on my tiny form. “You poor thing… you must have been so scared.” Her voice was soft, soothing. She grabbed a nearby handkerchief, its fabric flowing like a blanket as she brought it towards me.
Her gloved fingers, delicate yet enormous from my perspective, lifted me gently from the spoon. I felt the rough texture of the handkerchief against my skin as she wiped the batter off me with great care. “There we go… let’s get you cleaned up,” she cooed, her voice a gentle hum that made me feel a little less frightened.
I watched her face as she worked, the way her eyes softened and the way her expression showed genuine care. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful.” Once I was clean, she placed me down on the kitchen table, far from the food. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” she said, smiling down at me.
I nodded, still trying to regain my composure. From my new vantage point, I watched as Vanilla resumed her task of making the fruit tarts. She moved gracefully around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and working with a practiced ease. As she whisked, mixed, and poured, I couldn’t help but notice the way her dress swayed and hugged her figure, her hips swaying gently as she moved.
Her large form loomed like a giantess over the kitchen, her back turned to me as she worked. The long lavender dress, fitted snugly at her waist, accentuated her curves. Every time she reached for an ingredient, her hips shifted, and the fabric of her dress stretched, outlining the generous shape of her figure. I couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious as I watched, but the mesmerizing way she moved kept my eyes glued to her.
Finally, she placed the tarts in the oven, and as she did, she casually tossed her oven gloves onto the table. I didn’t have time to react as the massive gloves landed with a heavy thud, the impact sending a shockwave through the table. The force sent me tumbling off the edge, and I plummeted towards the hard wooden floor.
I hit the ground with a painful thud, the air knocked out of me. Dazed, I lay there for a moment, the world spinning around me. I could hear Vanilla humming to herself in the distance, unaware of the chaos she had just caused. As I tried to get my bearings, a shadow loomed overhead, and my eyes widened as I saw the enormous shape of her dress-covered form moving towards me.
I was on a chair. Panic gripped me as I realized where I had landed—right on the seat of one of the kitchen chairs. And Vanilla, oblivious, was turning towards it, preparing to sit down. I looked up in terror as her massive dress flared out, the fabric catching the light and the curves of her figure looming above me like a wall of cream and lavender.
I screamed, hoping she’d hear me, but her attention was elsewhere. The weight of her dress stretched tightly against her hips and backside as she began to lower herself. The massive curves of her butt loomed closer, filling my entire view. The soft fabric stretched taut, and I could see every detail as the dress hugged her body tightly, forming a silhouette that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
“Vanilla!” I screamed again, my voice desperate as her form descended. The chair creaked under her weight as she bent her knees, her backside filling the air above me like a descending mountain. The fear was paralyzing. I tried to scramble, but my body felt frozen, trapped by the sheer enormity of what was coming towards me.
“Vanilla, please!” I yelled, my heart racing as the fabric drew even closer, the massive curves of her backside pressing against the dress, showing off every detail as it came down. I was right in its path.
I looked up, frozen in place, as her dress-covered form descended upon me, the air filled with the sound of her humming and the creak of the chair as she bent her legs further. Her massive figure blocked out the light, and I could see nothing but the lavender fabric and the outline of her curving form, tightening as she prepared to sit.
I screamed again, louder than ever, as the enormous mass of her dress-covered backside fell towards me, praying desperately that she would hear me in time.
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