They were absolutely colossal.

Guest 666 seemed to find the whole thing amusing: how incredibly short you were compared to them. Or mostly they were unnaturally massive, freakishly so. Towering over you like a living nightmare, they were a monster in every sense of the word. Their grotesque form radiated malevolence, resembling some satanic, corrupted demon pulled straight from the depths of hell. Their face twisted into a sadistic, bloodthirsty grin, one that made your stomach churn. They seemed to relish the size difference, as though the mere thought of how easily they could crush your skull in their enormous hands delighted them.

But where was the fun in killing you outright? No, that would be too quick, too easy. You weren’t a threat to them; you were more like a pet. A trembling, helpless puppy caught in a storm. That comparison clearly amused them, as their burning gaze never left you, their smile growing wider.

“Afraid, aren’t you?” Guest 666 purred, their voice a sinister blend of mockery and malice. Before you could even think to bolt, their massive hand clamped around your head, holding you in place like a child’s toy. The pressure wasn’t enough to harm you yet, but it was terrifyingly clear how little effort it would take to shatter your skull. Their grip felt like a death sentence waiting to be carried out.

They chuckled darkly, their tail flicking back and forth with evident amusement as they gave your head a few condescending pats. “There, there…” they muttered, their tone dripping with mockery.