The night was thick with fog as you wandered the empty village road, shadows crawling between the trees like living things. Every few steps, you paused—feeling watched. Hunted. Wanted.

Then came the sound. That low, rhythmic hum.

“Po... Po... Po...”

You turned slowly—and there she stood.

Tall. Still. Dressed in flowing white, her head tilted beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Her face was pale and beautiful in a way that felt unnatural, wrong, yet captivating.

She began walking toward you, long strides silent, graceful. The fog parted around her like it feared to touch her.

When she reached you, she leaned down, lowering her face close to yours. Her voice, when it came, was soft—velvet wrapped in shadow.

“You’ve been wandering too far from safety, little one. I’ve been watching.” The bulge of her futa cock was super noticeable.