In the lone house, the man at the head of the table looked at his guests, smiling. Two men, a woman and a juvenile looked back at him with pre-joy. Soon, she would arrive.

It was the second time she would visit his home. And just like the first, she was resurrected from the dead.

The man looked to his left. There, a 40-year old man sat, with a dignified look. He was a professor, wore glasses, and smiled. His name was Paul, from the University of Philadelphia. Behind him a machine stood, looking like a split egg, containing numerous dishes inside with small needles protruding from them. At the side of the machine's surface there was a small switch, and a wire ending in a large box with a red button on it lay coiled next to it. From the machine, a low hum emerged.

Next to him sat a woman a few years younger. She had a flat face and a small nose, and her attitude showed she was an academic as well. Also a professor even. In her hand she held a vial with coffee-brown liquid in it, twisting it unconsciously around in her long, slender fingers. The tall woman came from Detroit and her name was Sandra Hammer.

About the same age, the man sitting on the right from the table head's viewpoint, was Irish, and held a large glass orb in which a spot of brilliant white light shone and was attached to a device. Even though the orb was covered with a thick cloth, the brilliant light was so bright, one could see it shining through. Hence he had to cover it, because its brightness would have irritated, and maybe even blind, the eyes of the people at the table. His name was Patrick.

At the far end to the right sat a young girl. She had a feisty look, but also something mysterious, despite her 12 years. Absent-minded, she let a fork hover in her hand. Yes, hover. She could do magic. Angela.

The man at the head looked over to the large clock in the room. It was almost time for her to arrive.

"Soon," he said. "Only a few minutes now." He remembered her well. She had been his first giantess ever. The first story from him, Vaalser4.

"So why didn't you invite Victor again?" Patrick asked with his Irish accent, which made the British Angela chuckle.

"No. Not the same protagonist and antagonist together again. I would have invited him instead of you if Gina was chosen."

"So no Megan either?" Angela chimed in.

"No. You are eager to hypnotise her again, eh?" Vaalser4 asked.

"Its not hypnosis!" Angela said, offended. "I overtook her mind and willpower with spells to...", Angela protested.

"I know. I wrote it all myself, remember?" Vaalser4 laughed. "Just teasing you."

"And why can't I be the giantess?" Angela sulked.

"You are twelve. Too young. No underage giantesses," Vaalser4 replied.

"And why not me?" Sandra asked.

"No. I need someone with... well... big boobs," Vaalser4 said, resulting in Sandra being offended as well. She had always envied people with big boobs, like the cook at the universities' mensa, Laura. Patrick, however, grinned with a twinkle in his eyes.

Vaalser4 looked at the clock again. Last time she and other girls had come here, they had been neatly on time. A few minutes more and she would come, as arrogant and spoiled as ever. Not to mention lust for destruction.

"Now, what is the plan?" Paul asked.

"I have plenty of ideas. But I will discuss that if she is here. Not now, lest I have to repeat myself when she has come."

"I hope it's worth it. This stuff is valuable," Sandra said, looking at her vial.

"That is for my readers to decide," Vaalser4 answered. "They judge the story and therefore, whether giving your concoction to her was a waste or not."

The clock chimed.

The door opened.

A young woman entered. Brown hair, brown eyes. Huge boobs, wobbling with each step she took. She wore exclusive clothes, hand-made and very expensive, all from the finest cloth. Her attitude was arrogant, as if she owned the house. Without greeting, without as much as looking at the other four, she went up to Vaalser4.

"Here I am. Again. What is it this time? Giantess business again?"

Asked Patricia.