Get Out of My House, Pretty Please?

It's still not biting down.The fog drowning everything in thick gray clogs your lungs, yet you can't even cough it out.Why can’t you move? It’s pathetic. You used to be so confident in your ability to beat up homerobbers in those daydreams of yours, now look at you; You’re a dog toy. You’re letting this foul fog lurking demon summoned from Hell chew you like a dog toy.Nothing changes for what might be days; Now the fog is clearing, and you’re still a fear-frozen chew toy. The only part of your body you seem able to control are your eyes, and even then they feel out of your grasp; They’re creeping towards whatever’s got your arm in its maw but you don’t want to see it, you don’t want to see whatever netherworld born monstrosity is playing with its food of your flesh, you really, really don’t want to see and already you’re beginning to feel faint—You know your heart won’t handle the shock of sighting the awful thing but still your eyes betray you, helplessly drawn to your own doom and—It’s too late. The horrific creature is revealed.And he’s rather… cute. And familiar.