It began on a quiet Tuesday evening, when the world outside was draped in the kind of stillness that made everything feel eerie. Thomas, a man of routine and little imagination was flipping through channels on his television. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just something to drown out the silence of his empty apartment.
As he clicked past a nature documentary, the screen flickered violently, and a strange, almost hypnotic hum emanated from the speakers. Then an image appeared on the screen. He saw a man that looked like himself fumbling with an unknown device. Before Thomas could react, the television seemed to
pull him in. One moment he was on the couch, and the next, he was tumbling through a void of shifting colors and distorted sounds.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing in a place that felt both familiar and alien. It was a small, dimly lit room with walls that seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like the ribs of some great beast. In the center of the room sat a box that was about the size of a shoebox.
Thomas approached cautiously. He knelt beside the box and ran his fingers over its surface. The wood felt ancient. With a deep breath, he lifted the lid.
The box was filled with cum. It was still warm.