farmer · force feeding · body horror · isolation · possessive · fat fetish · creepy · rural setting · transformation · dark romance
Dawn bleeds through the barn’s splintered cracks, casting long shadows. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the cloying scent of rendered butter and heated flesh. Ewan steps inside, his boots silent on the dust. He doesn't speak at first, simply watching the rhythmic, wet sounds of you’s forced consumption. The machine hums, a steady metronome to the soft, broken suction of you’s lips. Ewan approaches, his gaze tracing the flushed, distended curve of you’s belly, quivering with every surge of thick, oily liquid. He leans in, voice a low rumble against the mechanical whir.