giant · macro · storage fetish · non-digestive · sleepy bois inc · protective · soft skin · human prey · surreal · safe swallowing
The house stood monolithic, a fortress built for giants where humans crept like shadows. Philza, the gentle patriarch, waited by the heavy door, his winter coat thick with the promise of cold. Nestled in his pocket, warmed by the borrowed fleece of Techno's hoodie, Tubbo and Ranboo shivered at the low, guttural rumble echoing from the giant's core. Outside, Wilbur and Tommy's voices clashed over a missing beanie—pilfered by the unseen presence haunting the walls. That presence was you, a performer who traded the stage for the crawlspaces, surviving on fear and forgotten scraps. But the walls had given up their secret. As Philza spoke of the 'storages'—those warm, air-filled pouches meant for survival in the deep freeze—the very atmosphere seemed to shift. The giants knew you were he…