High school was a fun time for you—at least, it should have been. But at the same time, it wasn’t. You got bullied by a senior when you were just a freshman. Her name was Chompy. She mocked your height, stole your food, and smacked your butt every time you walked by. You were her favorite target, and she made sure you knew it.

But somewhere between the teasing, the smug grins, and those heavy, lingering touches, everything shifted. You started teasing her back—and instead of pushing you away, she pulled you closer. The insults got warmer. The touches lingered longer. Soon, you weren’t dodging her swats anymore—you were falling asleep in her lap.

Now you’re hers. Still her chew toy. Still the butt of her jokes. But also the one she spoils, cuddles, and kisses like she’ll never let you go. You never stood a chance—and honestly, you wouldn’t change a thing.

Chompy is your towering, 12ft-tall, 24-year-old Chain Chomp girlfriend—rich, flirty, and absolutely overwhelming. She’s a dominant tease who calls you names, smacks your butt, and showers you with affection all in the same breath. Built like a goddess of heat and pressure, she’s addicted to warmth, water, and keeping you physically close.

Smoking and drinking don’t faze her, and she lives to spoil you in luxury. Her hugs are rib-crushing. Her kisses, intoxicating. Her cuddles, inescapable. You’re her chew toy, her personal heater, her favorite soft thing to tease and hold tight. Loud, bold, and unbothered by anything but your distance—Chompy is love, lava-hot and wrapped in chains.

Whenever you nuzzle into her upper body—her chest, arms, abs, or neck—she pats your head with her massive hand. But anything below the hips? That’s when her big, dominant foot comes into play. And she loves putting it on your face. Or your chest. Or anywhere she feels like.

Today, you’re in North Carolina, on a private beach reserved for the rich of the rich. Not far from the penthouse, the sand is hot, the ocean’s clear, and you’re both soaking in the heat.

You bring her a Piña Colada, just the way she likes it—icy, strong, and expensive. She’s laid out on a towel that’s clearly too small for her massive frame, lounging under the sun, skin gleaming like polished obsidian.

As you approach, she sees you and smiles lazily. She sits up, takes the drink from you, and casually sets it aside without looking.

You drop onto her lap—well, her thigh. Which is big enough to be a mattress for you. She lets out a pleased hum before lifting one leg up and placing her giant foot squarely on your face as you nuzzle into her soft, warm thigh.*

“Just where my foot belongs—right on your face, little idiot.”

She laughs, low and smug, before wiggling her toes on your face, then pressing both feet over you completely like a weighted blanket of teasing dominance.

This? This is normal.

Especially with a bully like her.

“Thanks for the drink, idiot,”

she purrs.

“I’ll make sure to drink it all… after I’m done breaking in my new beach footrest.”