Vanilla stood up from her bed, her gentle eyes meeting yours. She smiled warmly, as if she had decided on something that would cheer you up. “How about I make you a sweet treat? Something to fill your little tummy and bring a smile to your face.” Her voice was as soothing as a lullaby, and you found yourself nodding eagerly.
Carefully, she lifted you into her hand again and carried you down the hallway. As you traveled through the mansion, the sounds of other inhabitants were distant but present, a reminder of just how large and lively this place was. You passed by a few rooms, and occasionally, the muffled voices of others reached your ears. Finally, she reached her destination—a vast kitchen, complete with polished countertops and towering cabinets that loomed over you like skyscrapers.
She set you down gently on the kitchen island, her massive form towering above you. “Now, let’s see… how about a little fruit tart?” she suggested, already beginning to gather the ingredients from around the kitchen. You watched her move gracefully, her dress swaying as she walked. Despite her size, she moved with such elegance and care that it was hard not to be captivated.
Vanilla began placing items on the countertop: flour, butter, eggs, milk, and a bowl that to you seemed like a small swimming pool. She set out a spoon, almost as large as a ramp, leaning it against the edge of the bowl. “I’ll just need to grab the sweetener,” she said, turning toward the refrigerator. As she opened the door, the cool air from the fridge filled the room.
Seizing the moment while she was occupied, you eyed the wooden spoon. It was leaning just the right way, forming a perfect slope up to the rim of the bowl. Curiosity got the best of you, and with a grin, you started your ascent. The climb was easier than you expected, and you found yourself standing at the edge of the bowl in no time. Below, a creamy, unfinished mixture swirled lazily, waiting for the remaining ingredients.
Just as you were about to dip your hand in for a sneaky taste, you glanced over your shoulder. There was Vanilla, still at the fridge, bent over as she searched for the sweetener. The way her dress hugged her curves, her fluffy tail poking out at the back, made the sight impossible to ignore. You felt your cheeks flush as you realized you were getting quite the unintended view.
Suddenly, the fridge door slammed shut with a loud thud. Startled, you lost your balance, and before you could react, you tumbled into the bowl. The mixture enveloped you, the cold, creamy texture coating your body as you splashed into the batter. You tried to push yourself up, but the thick mixture clung to your tiny limbs, making it difficult to move.
Vanilla’s shadow loomed over the bowl as she approached. “Now, where did I put that—?” she muttered to herself, her eyes scanning the countertop. From your vantage point, only her upper body was visible over the rim of the bowl, her chest and face dominating the view. Her eyes were focused elsewhere as she placed the container of sweetener down.
Before you could cry out, Vanilla casually grabbed a handful of chopped fruit and began to sprinkle it into the bowl. You flinched as slices of strawberries and chunks of banana rained down around you, splashing bits of the batter into your face. You wiped it off, trying to keep from being buried under the fruity avalanche.
“Hmm…” she hummed to herself, picking up the wooden spoon. She dipped it into the bowl and began to stir, her massive hand expertly moving the spoon through the mixture. You tried to avoid the swirling batter, but each sweep of the spoon pulled you deeper into its depths. The forces at work were too strong to resist, and you found yourself submerged again and again, struggling to find your way back to the surface.
The bowl felt like a whirlpool as she mixed. You were caught in the current, spun around helplessly. It was disorienting and frightening—every time you thought you had found a stable position, the spoon would come back, pushing you back down.
Finally, as the stirring slowed, you managed to break the surface. Gasping for breath, you found yourself clinging to a chunk of strawberry, peeking up over the edge of the batter. From your angle, you could see Vanilla’s massive face hovering above, her eyes bright and curious as she dipped the spoon into the mixture once more.
Your eyes widened as you saw her mouth open. She was going to taste the batter! You tried to scream, waving your arms frantically, but your voice was drowned out by the sounds of the kitchen and the clatter of utensils. The spoon approached, a massive wall of wood scooping up a generous portion of the mixture—and unfortunately, you were part of it.
The ride was quick and terrifying. The spoon lifted you into the air, and as you clung desperately to a piece of fruit, you saw Vanilla’s open mouth growing closer. Her lips parted, revealing her pearly teeth and the soft pink of her tongue. It was a sight that filled you with both awe and fear.
“Vanilla, wait!” you shouted, but she couldn’t hear you. The warmth of her breath washed over you as the spoon neared her mouth. You waved your arms again, hoping she might catch a glimpse of movement.
The spoon paused just before her lips, hovering as she seemed to inspect the mixture. For a brief moment, you thought she might have seen you. Her eyes narrowed, and you held your breath, hoping desperately that she’d notice your tiny form clinging to the fruit.
“Vanilla!” you yelled, your voice finally breaking through as you waved both hands in a frantic gesture. But whether she heard you or not was unclear—the spoon continued its journey, and you were left staring into the cavernous maw, hoping beyond hope that she’d realize you were there before it was too late.
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