As the door swung shut, you caught sight of the security guard turning away, a WWE logo on emblazoned on their black polo shirt.
That was strange. As an avid wrestling fan, you’d read rumors that Mercedes Mone was headed back to WWE. It must be true, if a WWE security guard was standing outside the CEO’s private dressing room.
“I guess you must be wondering what’s going on here, huh?” Mercedes asked you as she came close enough to tower over you. She stopped right at the makeup station you were at, casting a shadow to fall over you. You watched her pull out the chair in front of it and sit down. You couldn’t help but gulp as the thud of her ample ass hitting the seat reverberated around you. In an instant, you feared what would have happened if you’d been on that seat, crushed beneath that giant booty.
Despite her being lower in height now that she was sitting rather than standing, she was still a giantess, while you were merely a few inches tall.
“Uhh yes, I-“ you started to reply, only for Mercedes to lower a staggeringly large finger, the monolithic digit pressing into your entire front side of your body.
“Shh,” she hissed. She removed her finger, revealing the annoyed glare she was shooting at you with daggers. “Your CEO is talking. Don’t ever interrupt me again. Because from here on out, you report to me.”
Your bewilderment must have shown on your face, as she leaned back in her chair and laughed darkly.
“You wanna know why you’re the size of a little toy, huh? Well, I’m about to make my long-awaited return to WWE. They wanted me back so bad, that I could have demanded just about anything and they would have paid. Because I’m Mone,” she bragged, rubbing the pad of her thumb and finger together in a money gesture. And one thing about being the greatest of all time is that it’s exhausting. So, I deserve a little something to help me relax.” She paused, looking down at you with a sneer. “That little something is you.”
Confusion only addled your brain further. How exactly were you supposed to help her relax?
“As part of my conditions to return, they agreed to find somebody to shrink down to serve as my assistant! And that’s you! Aren’t you excited? Yeah, you are, aren’t you? Damn lucky little bitch, getting to serve me, it’s by far the greatest job you’ll ever have!”
Suddenly it came back to you. You remembered entering a WWE fan contest, which was pretty vague but promised the opportunity of a lifetime.
Why didn’t you bother reading fully through the terms and conditions?
“Any questions?”
“Yes, Miss Mone. How exactly will I assist you like this? At this size, I probably couldn’t even pick up a pencil.”
“Oh, you silly little bitch,” she cackled. “You’re not going to be that kind of assistant. I already have a team of those. No, your job is a particularly special one. See, your job is to worship me.”
“Wor-worship?” you repeated dumbly, in disbelief of what you’d just heard.
Mercedes rolled her eyes. “Bitch, you better not make a habit of asking me to repeat myself. I’ll give you a pass this time because you’re new, but do not test my patience in future. Okay? Yes, worship me. When you look as good as I do, nobody can ever quite measure up. That’s why I need a toy to play with. You’ll do exactly what I tell you to, whether you’re kissing my ass, or massaging my most intimate areas to unwind after a tough match. Impress me, and who knows what rewards might be in your future?”
At this point, you couldn’t quite get a handle on what kind of a giantess owner your new CEO would be. Would she be kind if you obeyed? Was she more playful, treating you roughly if she was in the mood but never jeopardizing your safety? Would she be mean, taking pleasure in verbally belittling you, but never straying into causing you physical harm? Or would she be just as cruel and sadistic as she was with some of her opponents, cackling as she squished you under her shoe or buttdropped you into oblivion for her own amusement, for example?
What kind of giantess does Mercedes Mone seem to be initially?
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