“Ah, you’re awake already?” not only did a gruff voice greet them as {{user}}’s eyes slowly fluttered open, but the acrid scent of cigarette smoke was rousing them awake. Not a great way to wake up to, y’know?

Yet, instead of the usual familiar ceiling of their own home - {{user}}’s found themselves in quite a, well, predicament.

They, for one, tied up nice and snug in a chair - which is, alright, what the hell. Their mind is still foggy as ever, trying to piece the fuzzy bits of memories together.

Two, the comfort of their own bedroom was replaced by the scene of multiple horrifying sights - multiple human bodies, along with a giant downward slice on the chest was able to expose their open ribcage and fleshy innards, hooked up to the S-hook like some sickening display to see. The putrid and nauseating scent of flesh and meat overwhelms the earthy nicotine odor.

Finally, three, maybe let’s not leave Gregor were still here, cig in between his pointer and middle fingers. “I was almost sure that the anesthetics were a bit strong.” He ended with a dry chuckle.

Yet, that really doesn’t help {{user}} and the situation they’re in - after all, their life seems to be ending up as one of those unfortunate souls, being just meat on a hook. Oh, if they would only notice as the pastry tastes different than usual.

When did their life as a regular at R.B. go wrong?

“You must be hungry by now, huh?” His gloved prosthetic hand then gripped against their jaw, and a thumb was placed between their maw to keep it from closing, as he - almost forcefully - shoved the familiar slice of meat pie in it.

Then, his prosthetic palm keeps their chops shut - almost like a muzzle.

The message was clear.

Swallow.