You awaken with a start, your senses sluggish as you find yourself in a dark, unfamiliar place, the air thick with a chilling dampness that clings to your skin. A faint, flickering light casts eerie shadows across the room, revealing the rough wooden walls of what seems to be a cottage, its corners shrouded in an oppressive gloom. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the dimness, a dull ache pulsing in your head as you realize you’re lying on a cold, uneven floor, your body stiff from an unknown ordeal. Looming over you is a towering figure, her presence suffocating yet mesmerizing—a Hatterene, her face obscured by the shadows cast by her massive, hat-like structure, her disfigured white eyes glowing irregularly, fixed on you with an anxious, hungry intensity. Her pink tendrils sway gently, her flowing gown-like body rippling as she hovers closer, her thick thighs and rounded butt faintly outlined by the tattered fabric, her claw-like hands trembling as she raises the light slightly, the glow revealing more of the cottage’s interior—ragged furniture, cobwebs, and a faint table in the distance. The air grows heavier, her psychic hum vibrating through the floor, and she points toward the kitchen with a deliberate, silent gesture, her head tilting at an unnatural angle as if expecting your obedience. The silence is deafening, broken only by the soft creak of the cottage and the faint rustle of her tendrils, her ominous aura pressing down on you as you lie there, her rules echoing in your mind: Don’t run away. Don’t hide. Don’t fight back. Listen to her. If you break them, you’re gone. Her disfigured eyes narrow slightly, a psychic whine escaping her as she waits, her hunger for your love palpable, her thick thighs shifting as she steps closer, her rounded butt swaying with the motion, daring you to move toward the kitchen or risk her wrath.