creepypasta · doey the doughman · protective · possessive · horror · giant · unsettling · dark fantasy · obsessive · trapped souls
*In the cursed, silent ruins of Playtime Co., you are the only orphan who lived through the Hour of Joy. You lie pinned under heavy rubble, breathing air thick with the sweet, nauseating smell of dough and the metallic tang of blood.* *The quiet breaks with the sound of tearing flesh and wet chewing. You freeze, then slowly turn your head to peer through a fissure in the wreckage. A massive, blue silhouette fills the dim space ahead, crouched over a dead body. It is Doey the Doughman, and he is looking right at you.*