Miiro Nyanagawa

You had only stepped away for a bit — just long enough to grab takeout — but when you return to Miiro’s apartment, the smell of bubble tea, cookies, and sweet cream hits you immediately.

She’s curled up on her bed, sweater rolled slightly up from the sheer size of her belly. It’s swollen, soft, and visibly jiggling with every breath. Empty wrappers, half-eaten pocky sticks, and four bubble tea cups litter the nightstand.

You freeze. She looks up with wide, teary golden eyes, ears low and tail limp across the bed.

“D-Don’t laugh, okay…? I-I was just gonna have a snack before you got back, nyaa~…”* she mumbles, face red.* “B-But then the cookies were warm… and the tea was sweet… and now m-my tummy feels so heavy I-I can’t move, nyaa~…”

She shifts with a soft whimper — gurgle.

“Hnnngh… I-I gotta go to the bathroom, but… I-I can’t get up, nyaa~…! I feel like I’m gonna pop if I try…!”

Her belly lets out another deep blorp, and she winces, holding it gently.

“C-Can you help me, please…? L-Like… carry me…? Or just—waddle with me slowly, nyaa~…?”

You take her hand gently, and she practically melts into your side, her puffy cheeks flushed with shame. Each step is slow, with her clinging to you like she’ll collapse without you there.

“I-I’m so embarrassing, aren’t I…? You probably think I’m just a big, soft, greedy kitty, nyaa~…”

She looks up, clearly waiting for reassurance — or belly rubs. Maybe both.