"Hello!" an overly cheery voice on the other side of the line said brightly. "You are cordially invited to the annual SizePlay meet and greet, on July 18th, in the beautiful Badland Fairgrounds! Rub elbows with the biggest names on the scene- figuratively and literally! And, for you, beloved contributors, we're offering a cash settlement of fifteen million dollars! See you there!"

Isabelle's mouth ran dry. This was . . . something. She had known the macrophiliac community had grown in notice, what with the fact that it was their deep pockets that kept the "fetish cities" from government intervention year after year, but that kind of money . . . that was considerably more than a human-sized VR helmet and connection ticket would cost. More importantly, it was just a hair over what a titan-sized helmet and ticket would cost.

Isabelle now had a birthday (when was Ally's birthday, anyway?) or Valentine's Day present that would knock Allison's massive socks off.

"Tho . . ." the blonde in question interrupted Isabelle's thoughts, trying to talk with her tongue sticking out, "what'th goin' onm?"

Isabelle shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. "Nothing. I'm just gonna be gone for a couple of days, a few weeks from now. A little business out of town, I'll be back before you're bored of me and find a titan girl to fuck around with," she teased.

"Ah wood'eh-" Ally started to say indignantly.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Isabelle soothed, standing to run a hand over Allison's nose, digging her boots into her titanic sub's tongue and earning a squeak. "I know you'll be faithful while I'm gone, and I will, too. Now," she purred, reaching for the remote for the collar and flicking it back on to Level 1, "where were we?"

Returning to straddling her sub's tongue, Isabelle grinned- it seemed life was falling into place for her, and everything was going great.

*** *** ***

Gray eyes gazed into the mirror. Long brown hair was groomed to absolute perfection. A suitcoat and pencil skirt maintained to be without flaw or wrinkle.

Lillith Jameson had gone to every effort, spared no expense, to look exactly like her crush, Titanic Goddess Eos. After all, two beings of physical perfection would be more likely to stay together forever. The brown hair dye had been easy to come by, if somewhat expensive due to needing to purchase so damned much of it- it had been titan-sized iron-gray color contacts that had stretched the young woman's resources and patience.

Life as a 72-foot titaness with money to spare wasn't exactly difficult, but . . . it was hard to find someone who related. Lillith had no one she could call her friends, and it was painfully easy to notice when people- both normal and titanic- lied to her, to try to get at her resources or in her pants.

But then, while browsing the Internet, she'd found an ask blog, someone who held power and wasn't afraid to use it. Someone comfortable being sexual. Someone who answered all of the titaness's questions with an earnest sensuality to her.

It had been child's play to find the videos, and only slightly harder to discover the woman posting them: Isabelle Strauss, 5'3", a corrections officer with a thing for taking taller women and breaking them with her insane force of will, her exceeding willingness to push the limits of her subs until these women were trailing behind her with desperate need. A major power fetish, and sharp as a razor if admittedly kinda soft where blondes and brunettes were concerned.

Lillith had become smitten, but stopped herself from crossing the country to find the woman she wanted. Isabelle apparently enjoyed the hunt, if her offhanded posts on her dating profile were concerned: enjoyed teasing, working up the girls until they asked her out. Apparently, the taller or more powerful the girl, the longer the relationship lasted, with a six-two bank manager holding the current record at a little over half a year. And while Isabelle had been teasing Lillith over the Internet for years, she probably didn't know it.

No, Lillith would need to be more cautious. Would need to draw Isabelle close. The perfect bait had been set: yes, there was a meet and greet to allow the fans, the directors, and the actresses to have civil discussions and set up requests, but no one else was getting such a huge cash settlement. That was Lillith's personal gift to the woman who'd unintentionally ensnared her so perfectly.

"Three weeks," the young titaness sighed happily, running a single hand into her panties to masturbate to the thing of beauty she'd turned herself into. "Just three weeks. Then, Goddess Eos . . . you'll be my Goddess, and mine alone," the titanic heiress said breathily.

*** ISABELLE ***

Upon returning home, the gray-eyed brunette smiled- the whole way back to Ally's place, the blonde had been walking with the most self-satisfied, goofy grin in the world, not helped by her hair standing on end due to how much raw electricity her new dom had poured into her.

But, internally, Isabelle was nervous. Ally had agreed to help keep her secret, and Isabelle was keeping another from the beautiful titaness: her own reputation.

It hadn't really been earned the right way: Isabelle did have a thing for making taller women submit, yes, but it was always the other girl who broke it off. Always her subs who decided that Isabelle had pushed them too far in her mad quest for a position of power in the relationship, who got fed up with how demanding she was, who wanted someone less possessive. But because Isabelle was the kind of woman who bounced back from a breakup by immediately rushing into a new relationship . . . a few bad rumors that the short woman couldn't defuse sprung up, and she'd gotten nicknames.

Isabelle the Amazon Slayer.

Strauss the Lion-Eating Mouse.

The Shock Mistress.

The Titaness Tamer.

The Bitch.

She worried that this beautiful thing she had going with Allison would vanish the moment the blonde titaness heard but one of these nicknames. So, naturally, she avoided any mention of her prior relationships, of her friends, of anything that the blonde might follow. Isabelle herself had learned that Allison had a friend named Natasha who was dying to meet her, but hadn't informed Ally even of where she lived.

Isabelle sighed to herself, wondering how long it would take for Allison to hate her, too.

*** ALLISON ***

The blonde stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep with her anticipation for being under Isabelle's gaze tomorrow. She decided to use the wall-mounted computer to look up Isabelle's ask blog, Titanic Goddes Eos . . . 

And found six years' worth of videos where Isabelle tormented and killed tiny things, mostly somewhat (up to extremely, with the newer videos) convincingly edited-in people, in increasingly sexy ways. She talked down to them, sat on them, crushed them between her breasts, stomped on them, crammed them up her ass, ate them, made them kiss her feet and ass. . .

Allison Verbantzki did not get a single wink of sleep that night.