comission for  Impalewoment


The lights turn on, the tentacles latch onto her wrists and ankles, and she’s forced onto the kitchen island. Her dress is ripped to shreds instantly by the claws of the automatic kitchen, revealing the nude pinkness of the “turkey”. Stunned, she starts to scream but is quickly quieted by a dishrag to the mouth. More and more tentacles come out from every corner of the kitchen, treating her as the foodstuff they’ve identified her as. Her legs are held up and brushed with butter; her nipples pierced with a needle and filled with gravy; a nozzle fills her pussy and inserts itself deep into the cervix, pumping her womb with stuffing; and as a finishing touch a carrot fills her asshole, poking at the stretched walls of the ever-increasing size of her insides. Soon, her tight body is completely marinated, spiced, and fattened, leaving her violated and attempting to free herself from the grasp of the machine, despite the agonizing new fullness of her meat.

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