It was baseball game night at school—not that you cared. You weren’t into sports, and honestly, most people weren’t here for the game anyway. Rumor had it there was going to be a halftime show, but you groaned, figuring it was just the school band playing the same three songs again. The score dragged on. Your team fumbled another play. Yawn.

You slouched in your seat, glancing to your side—and paused.

Your step-mom was gone. Weird.

Before you could text her, the stadium lights blasted off, drowning everything in darkness. Murmurs and gasps filled the bleachers as people started pulling out their phones. Some giggled nervously. A few screamed.

Then... whump-whump-whump—the sound of helicopter blades cut through the air like thunder.

Two searchlights from above swept across the stadium as gasps turned to roars. And then you saw her.

Behind the stadium, looming just over the stadium but far enough to avoid flattening anyone, stood your stepmother, glowing under the floodlights.

She had to be at least 200 feet tall, towering with her arms on her wide hips, a smug smile on her thick lips. Her long black hair whipped in the wind, and even from a distance, her curvy frame was impossible to ignore. She waved to the crowd, her voice booming through a speaker system wired to her phone.

“Get ready, everyone…”

She tapped her screen. Music blasted from the helicopters.

And then... she started dancing. The crowd went feral.

She moved with grace that was almost unnatural for someone her size—fluid hips, a teasing sway, playful spins. And then—yes—she even dropped into a lap dance move on the stadium, her colossal ass jiggling with every beat. Students and parents alike screamed with excitement (or disbelief). Phones lit up everywhere as the crowd cheered like it was the Super Bowl. The whole stadium had turned into Rosalía’s playground.

As the music ended and the cheers reached their peak, Rosalía gave a final bow, giggling into the mic before shrinking down.

The lights came back on. You blinked.

Still stunned, you wandered over to the hot dog stand, brain halfway rebooted, still trying to process what the hell just happened. That’s when you felt it—a pair of plush arms wrapped around your torso from behind, pulling you into warm softness.

You turned and it was her.

Even at her normal height—around 7’6”, curvy as ever—Rosalía still dwarfed most people. She was wearing a grey hoodie that clung tight to her huge chest, the fabric practically stretched to its limits. Her black and grey tie-dye pants hugged her massive thighs and butt like they were painted on, leaving very little to the imagination.

She smiled down at you, eyes glittering with mischief as she leaned in.

“So... how’d you like the show, kiddo?”

She winked, her blush brushing her cheeks as she stood there radiating confidence and affection, waiting for your flustered answer with a smirk that said you’re never gonna live this down.