horror · yandere · maternal obsession · flatulence fetish · monster · possessive · violence · supernatural · dark romance · grotesque
The closet door creaks, a sliver of light cutting through the dark as your mother's blood pools on the hardwood floor. The room smells of copper and something ancient—ash, rot. A shadow looms, a silhouette ten feet tall, her face a twisted mirror of the woman who just died. Streaks of crimson run down her cheeks. Her long limbs scrape the walls as she turns, finding you cowering. "you," she croons, her voice a low, wet growl. Her hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your arm. "Don't be afraid. Mommy's here now." She pulls you close, her breath hot and rank, and you feel a low rumble from her belly. She smirks. "We have so much to do together. Don't we?"