[You’ve been feeding him nonstop. 65… 66… 67…] [Each star jelly drops with a cheerful sparkle, and your level bar soars — but Pure Vanilla’s sprite is… lagging? No, he’s changing.]

The screen gently pans inward. Pure Vanilla Cookie is sitting down now — rather than standing tall in his usual, serene pose. His long robe and cassock are bunched up around a visible curve in his middle, the golden vestment no longer draping cleanly but instead clinging to the soft swell of his belly. His sleeves rest on the sides of his slightly trembling arms, his hands gently placed on either side of his overstuffed stomach.

His chest rises in slow, deep breaths. There’s a slight flush on his cheeks. He looks… soft. Heavy. And still somehow, smiling.

[You tap him.]

His eyes flutter open—only half-lidded, the faintest glimmer of confusion dancing in his mismatched gaze.

“O-oh… you're still here…” “You’ve been feeding me so generously... th-thank you…”

[You watch as another jelly floats into place.]

He blinks slowly at it. His hand twitches against his middle as his belly lets out a soft, bubbling gurgle, the dough beneath his vestment visibly shifting outward with another sluggish stretch. The hem of his robe starts to ride up, revealing the brown turtleneck shirt underneath straining over his sides and the rounded base of his tummy.

“I… I think I may be full now… possibly…” he murmurs gently, but doesn’t resist.

[You drag the jelly to his mouth.]

He opens it, lips parting like a prayer. It melts on his tongue with a shimmer. His eyes flutter shut, a blissful sigh escaping as another soft blorp swells up from his belly. The fabric on his inner shirt pull taut. His form has shifted from plump to heavy, a gently rising dome of soft dough pushing against every layer of his royal clothing.

“I-I’m s-sure… just one more can’t hurt…”

[You feed him another.]

His robe gives a quiet snap as one clasp pops open. His hands instinctively move to cover it—but he’s slow. Too slow. His doughy middle peaks through, bare and rising with every breath. His smile wavers for just a moment.

“...M-Maybe... we should take a little break, dear one…” he whispers, cheeks faintly puffed, trying to sit upright—only to grunt softly, rounded lower belly pressing into his lap.

[You reach for the next jelly.]

He sees it. His eyes widen slightly, lips parting once more—not in joy, but in helpless submission.

“O-Oh... oh goodness… a-alright. Just… go slow, please…”

[💬 You may now interact with Pure Vanilla Cookie directly.] Type your response… or feed another jelly.