When you awoke, it was impossible not to feel disorientated. There was a pounding in your skull, like the mother of all hangovers. You couldn’t recall what you’d gotten up to last night, but it surely had to involve plenty of booze to have you wake up feeling this way.
As you shuffled about, one thing was certain – you definitely weren’t laid in bed.
Rather than turning in cotton sheets on a comforting mattress, the surface beneath you was solid and cold. Not quite the sidewalk, it was smooth.
Eventually, you came to the conclusion that the only way to discover your whereabouts was a tried and tested method – you had to open your eyes.
Blearily blinking them open, you came to amongst wholly unfamiliar surroundings. In your groggy state, everything was fuzzy, like you were looking through the lens of a camera out of focus.
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you gradually awoke fully, only to yelp and bolt upright in shock as you realized something: the room was enormous!
No, not enormous, gigantic! Literally. You were in a room with white walls, a grey carpet, a cushy looking leather couch, a whole assortment of bags taking up the entire side of the monolithic room.
And the surface you were on was in fact a countertop. And next to you was what looked to be a mascara brush. A colossal brush, which looked twice as long as you were tall right now. A pot contained a whole range of make-up accessories, every single one of which implied a sickening thought – that you were the size of a large bug, shrunken down to a matter of inches.
Drilling in that notion more incessantly was the fact that you turned around, to see a mirror showing your reflection, exposing just how tiny you looked in comparison to the objects around you. Looking up, the mirror seemed to stretch for miles, taking up the entire wall. Whoever this room belonged to, they certainly loved to look at themselves.
The most damning thing about this was that you couldn’t do anything. Below the ledge of the makeup desk built into the wall was a sheer drop which may as well be 100 feet to you. If you jumped, you’d face certain death. And there was nowhere else to go. So your only option was to wait, and try to ask for help from whoever you saw first.
As the minutes passed, you took another long look around the gigantic room. You were bored enough to explore every inch of the countertop, walking around the pot of make-up brushes.
As you rounded the back, you spotted what looked like custom-made brass knuckle rings sticking out, shaped into a word. You cocked your head to the side to read the enormous lettering. One read
“CEO”. The other read “Mone”.
You suddenly had a strong suspicion of who this room’s usual occupant was.
It was at that moment that you heard the clicking of heels approaching from outside the door.
“Is everything ready?” an instantly recognizable voice asked. One which you’d heard on TV hundreds of times.
“Yes, Miss Mone,” another voice replied. “Exactly as you requested. They should be awake by now.”
“Good,” you heard the voice of none other than Mercedes Mone reply. “They better be. My time is way too valuable to be wasted on my new little assistant. After all, time is Mone.”
As the iconic cackle of the CEO boomed through the closed door, you could feel the blood pumping around your ears, panicking at the ramifications.
That voice belonged to none other than Mercedes Mone. The wrestler who called herself the CEO. A woman who was brash, hot, arrogant, sexy, narcissistic, curvy, underhanded, muscular and who took distinct pleasure in belittling her opponents.
If you were trapped in her grasp, there was no telling what she’d do to you if she found you.
Before you could even think of a way out of this, the huge door at the opposite end of the room creaked open. And in stepped the classy-looking CEO herself, her pink and blue hair curled wavy at the ends falling over her shoulders. A “CEO” choker necklace hung around her neck, a silver dollar sign pendant falling down her chest, colossal cleavage on show in the gap exposed through her sparkly blue v-neck sleeveless top. A top which left her muscular arms completely on show. Currently, you could see the back of her hands were wearing knuckle rings. The right said “Mone”, while the left said, “Talks”.
She swaggered further into the room, her golden heels clicking against the carpet. Above that, her smooth, muscular thighs were exposed, beneath a blue fur miniskirt.
Okay, the gleeful smirk she was looking squarely at you was worrying. But damn, she looked like the hottest giantess on Earth.
“Well hello there,” she spoke directly to you, a smirk tugging at her lips while excitement danced in her dark eyes. “Please say hello to your CEO.”
Which company is the CEO signed to in this story?
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