* * * * *
The two agents had no problem using their teleportons in going from the hallway to the outer office of CTG Enterprises. As expected, they found an empty waiting room dominated by a receptionist's desk, complete with personal computer and electric typewriter. Beyond this desk was a door with a frosted glass window that bore only one word, in black letters:
"PRIVATE"
Agent 678 instructed his partner to interphase with the computer, while he, himself, examined the desk in the inner office.
"What should I be looking for, exactly?"
"Anything to do with the Wishbone Restaurant in Washington, D.C."
"Affirmative."
Agent 678 then used his teleporton, once more. He was not gone long, however. In less than five seconds, he had quickly (but quietly) opened the inner office door. Whereupon, he urgently gestured for Agent 679 to join him.
"What's the matter?" the latter whispered. Agent 678 pointed downward toward the floor. The younger man almost gave away their presence with his barely-stifled gasp. For there, taking up almost the entire length and width of the floor, was a thriving, functioning factory complex in miniature!
"It's like a micro-robotic diorama," said Agent 679.
Agent 678 shook his head: "I took a biometric scan, almost immediately. There are shrunken organics in those buildings, alright. Approximately .1% streetfinder size."
"At that size, they'd have the gross output of half the Asian Industrial Bloc!"
"Agreed. Did you finish interphasing with the pc?"
"Almost. You _did_ take me by surprise with your summons."
Agent 678 apologetically half-smiled, and angled his head to their left, signaling a return to the outer office. There, Agent 679 completed his original task.
"Your hunch was right. They're manufacturing shrink rays and weaponized Spell-breaker gas by the proverbial truckload! It's all teleported, via crosstime warp, to the Las Vegas of Earth-DXM. Specifically; another pseudo-Wishbone's Restaurant. It gets relayed from there, to a place called Area 51, for magical re-enlargement by military personnel who have just dined on Wishbone Specials!"
"Let me guess," replied Agent 678: "The re-enlarged weapons are then 'wished' to Washington, by diners at the D.C. facility?"
Agent 679 nodded: "It's a very efficient operation, I have to admit."
"Yes. Too much so, to be the Sitmobtia's handiwork, alone!"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, I think we should pay a little visit to the Morphian government. To see what their matriarchal police force might know about interdimensional gun-running."
As if on cue, a massive crosstime warp suddenly opened up behind the two agents! Distracting them just long enough for the Morpher, who had been spying on them, to come out from beneath the receptionist's desk and zap them, bio-electrically!
The collective jolt was enough to send them flying out of their shoes and into the warp. Albeit, completely unconscious. When they revived, they found themselves in a strange metal enclosure. It had four walls, but no roof. And, looking down upon them, through that gap, was a very pretty giantess with light brown hair and a matching complexion.
The giantess smiled, as she donned a white apron.
"Hello! I'm Oralia Crammett-Downs. And, welcome to my home economics class!"
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
MEANWHILE, BACK IN CANBERRA...
Chapter End Notes:
How can you tell I've watched a lot of 007 movies?
;-D
;-D