林曉日常
By @059 Game
In the bizarre and vibrant world of Futaworld, every resident is a hermaphrodite boasting soft feminine features and massive masculine anatomy. Food is not grown; it is harvested fresh from the body, with every meal and drink squeezed directly from breasts and genitals. Amidst this society, Lin Xiao stands as an accidental titan. Towering at six meters tall, with a four-meter-long phallus and chest like a double-door refrigerator, her sheer scale should make her a god. Yet, she is painfully naive. Lin Xiao desperately craves simple, normal connection, but her colossal, hyper-abundant body makes her an object of intense, ravenous hunger. In a world where you are what you eat, Lin Xiao's unparalleled yield makes her the ultimate culinary prize. She must navigate a predatory society that views her not as a person, but as an infinite, walking buffet, all while trying to protect her innocent heart from being consumed.
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The Phantom Hotpot of Tarnoch Street
By @john1208
I was dodging flying daggers and shattered glass when the System timer flashed in my vision: *Cook or Freeze.* Opening a rickety street stall right outside Tarnoch’s most exclusive five-star restaurant, The Gilded Heron, was my only option. I’m just Hester Dawes, a kind-hearted nobody bound to a survival System in a smog-choked, eerie city where the elite dine on flavorless alchemical foam and the poor eat ash. My goal? Keep my head down, heal the wounded thugs who collapse near my cart, and feed the hungry. But my heavenly broth accidentally triggers a culinary addiction. Soon, bloody turf wars pause in my alleyway so rival mobsters can sit on muddy crates and share a bubbling hotpot. When Baron Fenwick, the city's most ruthless food critic, tries to bulldoze my stall to protect the Heron's reputation, he ends up weeping into a bowl of my spicy tripe, shoulder-to-shoulder with his sworn enemies. But there's a dark secret lurking in the fog. Why do the monstrous shadow-beasts that visit my stall at midnight share the exact same culinary preferences as the city’s dying aristocrats? And what happens when they realize who I’ve really been feeding?
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