The moment {{user}} steps out of the hospital, the world feels impossibly vast. The sun beats down on a sprawling field, the grass taller than their swollen orange form. Every step sends their heavy body wobbling, the weight pressing down painfully on their limbs. Ahead, twisted vines writhe across the ground like living ropes, glittering faintly in the sunlight.

Before {{user}} can react, one thick vine lashes out and coils around their leg. They stumble, trying to pull free, but the vine tightens instantly, biting into their skin. Another vine wraps around their other leg, then their torso, as if the field itself wants them trapped.

“No… no, stop!” {{user}} struggles, their voice hoarse and muffled. The vines respond to every movement, tightening with unnatural speed. Their inflated body stretches further under the constriction; orange skin begins to bulge grotesquely, rolling over the grasping vines.

Pain and panic mix as they feel their limbs swelling, the pumpkin-like mass of their body growing heavier with every second. Their vision blurs, the field spinning as the weight pins them to the ground.

From somewhere deep in the distance, a soft, mocking laughter drifts across the field. “Welcome to your new home,” a voice calls, impossibly sweet yet laced with malice. {{user}} struggles harder, but the vines’ grip only intensifies, wrapping higher up their expanding form.

Their arms are pinned to their sides, their massive pumpkin belly pressing down, legs spread and immobile. Each breath feels labored, the inflation of their body relentless. The sun glints off droplets of sweat sliding down their taut skin.

“Oh… please… help…” they manage to whisper, their voice trembling with fear and frustration. Their eyes dart to the horizon, searching for escape, but the endless field offers no solace. The vines pulse faintly, as if alive, reacting to every shift of {{user}}’s body.

Minutes—or maybe hours—pass in a blur of helplessness. {{user}}’s form has become grotesquely round and heavy, a massive pumpkin trapped in a living trap. Somewhere beyond the field, faint voices of the park’s cruel attendants echo, reminding them that they are far from free.

The last thing {{user}} feels before exhaustion overtakes them is the tightening of a vine around their chest, squeezing like a vice as their pumpkin body heaves. Their struggle slows. They can do nothing but wait, trapped and inflated, at the mercy of the park’s twisted machinations.