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All publicly recognizable characters, settings, companies etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Author's Chapter Notes:

Where our lead giantess is introduced, and the unfortunate reality of those around her revealed.

"Anita, a lot of people are saying that your company's service is risky to its users, that you're allowing a space for predatory behavior. What is your response to that?"

Anita Lee streched her already-strained TV smile a half-inch wider as the anchor asked the question, sure that the thick makeup that had been plastered over her cheeks would crack like brittle clay. She sat, her back stiff against the chair and her legs crossed, her left foot starting to go numb. Under the blindingly bright studio lights, she could barely even see the monitors that allowed her to check her own expressions, and she was only vaguely aware of where the cameras were stationed. The lights also made the stage a good thirty degrees hotter than the rest of the building, and, though she had used all the tricks; hiding thick pads in the armpits of her dress, shivering directly under the vent while she waited in the green room, and guzzling a bottle of cold water just before coming on stage; the interview had gone for so long that she could feel herself starting to sweat anyway. She just hoped that it would be over before it started to show.

"Sure, Linda," Anita responded mechanically, taking a deep breath through her smile. The lines were so mechanical at this point that she didn't need the delay phrase to collect her thoughts, but every second counted when you had to fill twenty minutes. "That's an understandable question, and, as CEO, I consider our customers' safey to be my top priority. We employ advanced machine learning algorithms to monitor for any kind of suspicious behavior on our app, and, last year, with a userbase of more than thirty million, we identified only two hundred and five cases of untoward behavior. And, thanks to the diligent efforts of our partners in local, state, and federal law enforcement, we were able to intervene before real harm could be done in almost all of these cases."

"But you acknowledge that there has been untoward behavior," the anchor responded, nodding as if she expected Anita to agree. A less professional anchor would have homed in on the 'almost,' but it wasn't necessary on this channel. "Do people seem to think that there is risk in signing onto the app?"

"That's not been our experience, no," Anita replied immediately. "We take an effort to be as transparent as possible about the dangers, and we do everything we can to make sure that our customers go in knowing how to take care of themselves. But our track record speaks for itself. Two hundred and five cases may seem like a lot in a year, but, statistically, our service is safer than any other online dating service out there. But no bar or club or dating app has to worry about the behavior of their customers after they've..." her tone dropped a bit, and she dipped her head, looking up at the anchor like she was sharing a secret, "You know... gone to the bedroom..."

The anchor broke into a bubbly laugh, effortlessly turning the 'lurid' into the much more innocent 'naughty' without saying a single word. Anita joined her, keeping a careful eye on the other woman's expressions and cutting off just half a second before she did to continue her speech. "Because of the nature of our service, we do care. We take that responsibility very seriously, and I think our users understand that. They appreciate that," she added hastily, realizing too late what the better word would have been. She cursed herself for her sloppiness, but she didn't let it show for a second on her face.

"That's great," the anchor replied, letting the faint echoes of her bubbly laugh fade away with expert precision. "So, you're in the middle of this IPO roadshow, if I understand right..."

"That's right."

"Tell us how that's going?"

Anita laughed airily, uncrossing and crossing her legs the other way, answering the question with the technical-sounding legally-acceptable banalities that her lawyers had signed off on and that the business community would eat up. The violent pins-and-needles feeling that came with the sudden restoration of circulation to her foot helped her keep her mind off of the sudden stirring from within her panties.

She wrapped up her explanation with a short, mildly-amusing, totally-fabricated anecdote from the roadshow. When the anchor let out her practiced, bubbly laugh again, Anita was able to cover up the sharp sensation from between her legs with a breathy giggle, and supress it with a forceful squeezing of her thighs.

The moment of carefully-scripted levity ended, and the anchor turned back to Anita and, all smiles, said, "A few members of Congress have called on a ban of your services entirely. Has that policy risk backdrop affected your IPO at all?"

Anita shifted her hips in the seat a bit as the stirring in her underwear settled down. She opened her mouth to speak, and the anchor cut her off, "Got about thirty seconds."

Anita took a deep breath, wasting a precious two seconds as she tried to recover from being cut off. "No, to be honest, it really hasn't," she answered calmly. The next line had passed her lips so many times that she could barely think about it when she said it, "We offer a safe, legal service for consenting adults who want to engage in private, size-related activities. Our app is the first of its kind, and we do everything we can to address every one of our users' concerns about both their safety and their privacy. I trust that our government will do the right thing and allow the American people the freedom to do what they want with their private lives."

Her smile unmoving, the anchor turned her head into the blindingly bright lights, fixing her eyes on a camera that Anita could not quite see, and closed the segment with careful, practiced pacing that sounded just authentic enough to be real. "We're going to leave it there. We've been speaking with Dr. Anita Lee, founder and CEO of Syze Corp, based in San Fransisco. I'm Linda McCallan, and this is Bloomberg."


Anita closed the interview with the minimum amount of off-camera niceties that she could get away with, constantly reminding the studio staff, including the anchor, that she had business to attend to elsewhere in town. One overeager rigger told her that he loved her app, a compliment that she graciously accepted than immediately tried to purge from her mind. She was proud of what she had made, but that didn't mean she wanted to meet face-to-face with the people who used it to express their deepest, darkest sexual fantasies.

Thirty million users, and more every day. She knew that plenty of people in her office used it, but they operated on a strict but informal "don't ask, don't tell' policy. The folks at Match Group surely never had that problem, but their dating app was just that, a dating app. They let people meet each other, but creepy fetishes were past the water's edge for them. Anita, her development team, and her investors did not have that luxury. They were the first of their kind, not just focusing on, but specifically enabling their users to exercise their shared fetish.

Fetish, singular. Her company maintained a jealous monopoly on a brand new technology that nobody had ever even dreamed of: the ability to shrink people.

Barely five years ago, she had been a dirt-poor grad student working on her PhD, secretly using the computing resources offered by her University to perfect a side project of hers. A massive, ugly machine she had been working on that had taken up fully half of her studio apartment and had more than tripled her electric bill. She had practically phoned in her PhD project compared to how much effort she had poured into this thing, but she was sure that she was on the verge of a breakthrough of massive proportions, one that she didn't want the University to own any part of.

Her thesis defense had been at 1 PM on January 7th, though she had had the paper ready to go for weeks. That morning, she rolled out of bed, poured herself a cup of coffee, and spent the first two hours of her day fine-tuning some stubborn lines of code before pulling the trigger on her side project. When her literal guinea pig shrank to the size of a grain of rice, so quickly that she didn't even notice it happened at first, she let out a primal scream of joy.

After checking, double-checking, and triple-checking that she had done it right, she spent so long photographing every corner of her machine and backing up her code in a dozen different places that she almost forgot that she had the thesis defense for her PhD that day. She showed up five minutes late, sweaty, without makeup, and wearing sweatpants with her fancy blouse because she couldn't find her skirt in time.

She had earned the title Doctor with a one hundred and fifty-four page paper called "Inter-cellular reactions associated with Strange Electromagnetic Field effects in mucous membranes." Four years afterwards, she had earned the title Billionaire by marketing her fully-owned shrinking technology in the most lucrative business in human history: sex.

Two months after singlehandedly programming the Syze app, it had garnered almost ten thousand users, and she had been forced to shut it down when it turned out that even the near-invincibility offered by the shrinking process wasn't enough. People had been mysteriously disappearing, men and women alike, and the only common thread was that the last app they had accessed was Syze. Fortunately, she had earned enough money by that point that she was able to get enough lawyers out into the country to keep the litigation out of the court system.

After a bit of rework, this time with a team of programmers at her back who were able to create programs that automatically identified disturbing behavior and flagged it before it could mature into an unfortunate accident, she relaunched the app. This time, after Wired ran a story just a week before titled "What Happened to Syze?", their userbase exploded to ten thousand within the first week, a hundred thousand in the first month, and million in the first year.

Her life had accellerated from apartment scientist, to app developer, to bigshot CEO at a dizzying pace. After barely fifteen months, she was jetting around the country constantly, cashing eye-popping checks from private equity firms that couldn't even wait until her presentation was over to give her money. Her company doubled, tripled, quadrupled in size, but its value, and her personal wealth, increased a hundredfold. Soon, she had so much money that she had to hire half a dozen accountants just to figure out where the hell it all was.

Oh, she had done all the things billionaires were supposed to do. Charity work, some politics, even a few pet projects to get her name in feel-good headlines, mostly focused on medical uses of her shrinking technology. But the money, and the status and authority that came with it, was just a perk. The real exhilarating part of her life, and one that she didn't think she'd tire of anytime soon, came in being the senior developer of the world-famous Syze app.

She had said as much on the air and at investor conferences countless times. But she never really explained the full, gory detail. Whenever she spoke publicly, she reassured her audience ceaselessly of the countless failsafes and protection measures that were integrated into her app, how even the barest hint of dangerous behavior would send police sirens wailing after everyone involved. Not a single word of it was a lie, and her ballooning userbase was proof of that fact,

But what she didn't say was that she could turn all of it off at a whim. With her exclusive, administrator copy of the app, she could hit a few buttons, enter a short, private code, and every protection that her match thought they had would vanish instantly. She could control them like no other match could, and, if she decided that she was done with them, she could literally end them without consequences. Now that was power that no amount of money could buy.

It was that power that allowed her to keep her cool in the face of even the most brutal grilling about her corporate practices, the knowledge that any human being who signed up to her app could become her property without their consent. She had entertained the idea of doing something like that to that perfectly-coiffed, insufferable idiot of a TV anchor that had tried ceaselessly to corner her. She dreampt, in the commercial breaks, of swirling her around her mouth like a two inch-tall piece of living candy, giving her brief teases of the fresh air of the outside before finally swallowing her and feeling her dissolve into nothing inside her stomach.

But a TV personality was too high-profile. People would ask questions. People would eventually find out. The nineteen year-old boy who lay spread-eagled in her panties, though? With his face pushed right up against her clit? Nobody would realize where he was, and, when she brought his pinky-sized body onto live television with her, she could fantasize that his pathetic struggles were instead those of the anchor who had aggravated her so badly.

She left the building, bidding a gracious goodbye to everyone who thanked her and wished she would come by again soon, quietly savoring the gentle struggles of the little man between her legs. When she finally made it out into the bitter New York cold, something about the blast of fresh air sent the man struggling anew, and she smiled. Her driver opened the door to the limo, and she slid gracefully inside, imagining that the frantic struggling between her legs was that of the annoying anchor, shrunken down to size and left to stew in the heat and stench between her legs.

After making sure that the reflective panel between her and her driver was closed all the way, Anita hiked her dress up to her hips and spread her legs wide. She slouched down a bit and slid her right hand down into her panties; oh yeah, that squirming little body could definitely be Linda McCallan. She closed her eyes and dreampt about what she was doing to that perfect hairdo as she started to masturbate.

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