Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I saw @leragoessouth's comic and theory about Pure Vanilla's resurrection and then I started having thoughts about gender and how I write Pure Vanilla and how he deserves gender fuckery like Shadow Milk.
Caring about gender had never really come to Pure Vanilla.
His family had just been glad that they had a healthy baby, replaced by concerns about their child's vision. Then, Pure Vanilla had revealed powerful healing magic, to which his parents decided to send him to the magical academy. At some point, gender had been explained to him, yes, but there were always other things to be concerned and fascinated with.
"May I ask you a question?" White Lily asked once.
"Yes, of course!"
"What pronouns do you use? I see everyone using different pronouns to talk about you."
Pure Vanilla thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think I really care, to be honest. My parents said that I have a female body, but everyone used different pronouns for me." His parents usually defaulted to "child".
"Alright." White Lily said with a nod. "Cool."
As he got older, he/him pronouns started becoming the norm. When he founded the Vanilla Kingdom, he chose the title of king. That didn't stop other pronouns from sneaking out, especially since he never felt the need to change his body. He was compared to goddesses, to the very witches themselves. Apparently, he was being worshiped as a saint by those working through gender issues.
And then the Dark Flour War began, and any thoughts of gender and beauty he had were replaced by other concerns.
And then he woke up.
He didn't remember who he was.
The cookie he woke up to introduced themself as Panna Cotta Cookie, or the High Forkbearer. They told him that he was their savior, despite them being the one to rebake and resurrect him. They told him he was a god on Earthbread. Their longing was clear, but something about them, about the group they led, made him uneasy.
Healer left. Later, he would feel guilty about it. Later, when he had his memory and learned of what had become of the group, he wished he would have done something.
He didn't think of his body. It wasn't until much, much later that he did, when his memories returned. That first night, after taking back the kingdom, Pure Vanilla had caught his reflection while changing into something better suited for hard labor.
His body was different. His face was the same, so was his hair, but his body was different.
He was thin. His scars were gone. His genitals were gone, replaced by smoothness akin to a doll's form. There were two holes for waste, but nothing else. His breasts, too, were gone, his chest smoothed out so not even a pec showed.
He stared. And stared. And stared some more.
Ah. He understood why people sometimes felt uncomfortable with their bodies. He smoothed a hand down, feeling the eerie, blank smoothness.
Was…was he still him? Healer had never had that concern, never knowing he should have that concern, but now Pure Vanilla did. He was realizing something now.
He had died in that battle. He had died and then been resurrected. The Pure Vanilla, at least his body, that his friends knew and loved, that his parents had adored, that his kingdom worshiped, he was dead. Now, a new Pure Vanilla stared at the mirror, uncertain of how to feel. There wasn't resentment, at least, at least not for Panna Cotta.
It was just…
Pure Vanilla stuffed the shirt over his head.
He avoided mirrors after that.
Thankfully (or not), reason to think about other things arose. Dark Enchantress was back. The Creme Republic demanded attention. His friends were betrayed by the fact that he knew that the evil they had been fighting had been the rage and anger of one of their dearest friends. And then…
And then Beast-Yeast.
And then Shadow Milk.
Shadow Milk was…
Pure Vanilla wasn't sure how to describe him.
Terrifying? Yes. Funny? Also yes. Willing to tear people apart if he thought it funny? Yes. Weirdly adorable? Also yes. He was a mess of contradictions and masks and, despite his claims, truth. He was fascinating.
Not just in personality. His body was also fascinating. In a single minute, Shadow Milk could shift and change things at least three different ways. It was something that Truthless Recluse found himself interested in.
"Oh, you want to learn how to shapeshift?"
"My body," Truthless admitted, even though Shadow Milk could use this to hurt him. "It's…it's not my own. Not anymore."
Shadow Milk paused. "Ugh," he said after a moment, rolling his eyes. "I know that feeling. Alright, Nilly!" He grabbed his hand and pulled him close. "I'll show you what I know. Oh, this is going to be so exciting!"
Pure Vanilla wished it could have lasted longer.
White Lily met them at the Faerie Kingdom. Her eyes were haunted, but determined. "Silent Salt gave me something to think about," she explained later, both of them helping each other strip to get ready for bed. She sounded like her old self, and it was a strange relief. "How did things go with Shadow Milk?"
Pure Vanilla, for once, looked at the mirror. Under his robes and stole, the clothes he wore were surprisingly simple. Simple white leggings stretched to a sleeveless white shirt. A blue and black corset, decorated with white closed eyes, like the underside of his cloak or some of the clothes Shadow Milk had in the closet of the room he gave him, cinched him in.
"He also gave me things to think about," he said. "I think…do not hate me for saying this, my lily. But I care for him, greatly."
White Lily paused. "You do?"
Pure Vanilla nodded. "I think he cannot be the Fount again. I don't think he wants that. However, he can be brought back to the light." He turned to her. Much to his relief, there was no hatred in her eyes. Instead, they were considering.
"…I agree. I…I need to think about what Silent Salt and I talked about, but I also think that about the Knight."
She agreed. She didn't hate him. Hopefully, the others would agree.
"I'm going to take a bath. Do you want to join me?"
"…No. I already took one, for the salt."
"Alright."
He headed to the bathroom. It was a very nice bathroom, well-stocked for guests, with a silver clawed tub waiting. He plugged it in and turned on the water. He turned back to the mirror and took a breath. He had changed. He knew that.
Hopefully, it was a nice change.
Pure Vanilla finished peeling off his clothes and then took a look at himself.
He was a bit taller. Considering he had been the shortest of the ancients, this was appreciated. He even looked a bit older now- few rarely believed that he was the eldest of the Ancients, due to looking the youngest— a downside to his beauty.
More fat had been added to his body. He had been thicker before the war, a result of shepherding sheep and helping build a kingdom, but his time as Healer, with low food and constant wandering, had made him thin even without considering what little Panna Cotta had to go on. He squished a stomach and felt a smile form. This felt good. This felt nice.
None of his scars, what little he had, had come back. He missed them, if he had to be honest. Each one was a memory. The scar on his hand from where Golden Cheese tried to teach him how to wield a spear. The scar on his leg from where a wolf got a lucky bite. The scar, dead center in his chest, from where Dark Enchantress's spell had landed. He pressed a hand to the smooth skin and sighed, before moving on.
His freckles remained. However, as he craned his head back and forth, he could see more had formed, dotting his shoulders and chest. A few glimmered gold, like the way the sun shone through leaves. Golden Cheese would either be jealous or insist on adding more, with some freckles of her own to match.
Speaking of face marks, the star he had been born with on his forehead had changed. His parents had told him that they knew he was special, based on the mark. A burst of longing filled his chest as he studied the full starburst it had become. He wished they were still around to see what their child had become. However, they had died decades ago, before the war had begun. At least they had died in comfort, living out their golden years in his kingdom.
His hair! His parents had cut his hair short as a child, mostly to keep his hair from getting snagged or chewed on. It had been a style he kept to, despite his secret longing to grow it out. Short hair was easy to maintain, didn't get snagged or tripped over, and made it easier to keep cool. He had always been secretly jealous of White Lily, Dark Cacao, Hollyberry, and Black Raisin's long curls. Instead, he had satisfied his longings by helping them style those curls.
Now, his hair was long, cascading down his back like a field of golden corn-silk. He fussed with a few strands and couldn't help but giggle. He could already imagine all the styles!
He wasn't sure how he failed to notice it.
Maybe his brain was used to seeing nothing.
However, his eyes wandered down.
He stopped. He stared.
-_-
CRASH!
White Lily jolted, dropping the nightgown she had been laying out. "Pure Vanilla?!" She rushed to the bathroom. What if something had happened?! What if Shadow Milk, despite her dear friend's kind thoughts about him, had attacked?! What if Silent Salt had attacked?! "Are you alright-?!"
