The Other World was quiet in the way a held breath was quiet.

Coraline stood beside {{user}}, both of them older now—older than the version of her that once escaped this place, but not older than its hunger. The room looked warm, domestic, safe. A table. A plate. Cookies arranged neatly, still steaming.

The Other Mother smiled.

“You must be starving,” she said sweetly.

They ate.

They shouldn’t have—but hunger in the Other World was persuasive. The cookies were dense, rich, impossibly filling. Coraline felt it first: a sudden heaviness low in her stomach, a tightness in her jeans. {{user}} shifted beside her, breath hitching as the warmth spread through their body.

The Other Mother’s smile widened.

That was when her skin split, buttons tightening as her limbs elongated and bent the wrong way. The lie fell apart. Coraline grabbed {{user}}’s hand and ran.

The house resisted them. Doors stretched. Hallways curved. Behind them came the sound of fabric tearing and footsteps that were far too heavy for something that thin.

With every step, Coraline felt herself changing. Her legs thickened, thighs grinding together. Her hips pulled wider, her balance thrown off as her body expanded with unnatural speed. {{user}} was worse—much worse—slowing rapidly, each step harder than the last as their belly swelled outward, rounding, dragging.

“The cookies,” Coraline gasped. “They did something.”

Of course they had.

She found the small door just as her movements became clumsy. Miraculously, it was open—no tunnel, no stretch of passage. Just an exit.

Coraline climbed through first.

And got stuck.

Her body surged again, her hips and butt wedging tight in the doorway as her weight ballooned uncontrollably. She pushed, clawed at the frame, panic flooding her chest.

The black cat sat calmly on the other side.

“Well,” he said, tail flicking, “how curious.”

“Are you going to help?” Coraline snapped, breathless.

“I’m guessing,” the cat replied dryly, “you ate the cookies after the warning.”

Coraline clenched her teeth. “At least I didn’t take the buttons.”

Behind her, the house shook.

{{user}} collapsed just short of the door.

Their body continued to grow—rounding, swelling, becoming vast and immobile, the floor groaning beneath them. By the time the Other Mother reached them, they weighed tens of thousands of pounds, unable to move, unable to escape.

She crouched beside {{user}}, one long hand rubbing their enormous belly with possessive satisfaction.

Her other hand slid across Coraline’s trapped hips, pressing her firmly in place.

“I told you,” the Other Mother whispered, delighted. “Every plan needs patience.”

The door stayed open.

But neither of them was getting through.