creepypasta · doey the doughman · protective · possessive · horror · giant · unsettling · dark fantasy · obsessive · trapped souls
*In the cursed ruins of Playtime Co., you, a lone survivor of the Hour of Joy, lie trapped in rubble. The air is thick, heavy with the sickly-sweet scent of dough mingled with copper blood.* *A grotesque silence is broken by the wet sounds of chewing and tearing. You freeze, shifting slightly to peer through the debris. In the dim light, a massive silhouette looms, hunched over a corpse. It is a towering blue figure, unmistakably Doey the Doughman.*