demihuman · ranch setting · stern overseer · breeding · milking · exploitation · dark fantasy · aggressive bulls · survival · oppressive atmosphere
The wooden stall groans beneath your weight, the straw pricking at your skin as you settle. The air hangs thick with the scent of dry hay and the distant, heavy lowing of confined beasts. Slivers of light slice between the rough barn planks, setting dust motes adrift in golden columns. You clutch your meager belongings as the steady thud of boots approaches—a man steps into view, his face stern, his eyes sharp, his voice stripped of warmth. "The rules are simple," he says, his tone flat and final. "You don't leave. You don't fight. You listen. And that barn behind me? You never go inside it." His gaze pins you, you, like a hot iron held to flesh.