The campus of Universidad Simón Bolívar was relatively quiet, although the research facilities were always busy. Ingrid and Gregorio weren’t visiting the labs, however; Dr. Pandemonium’s office was in the Theoretical Physics department, academic country with nary a Bunsen burner to be seen.

A short dark-haired woman sat behind the department’s reception desk.  She looked up when Ingrid entered, her purse over her shoulder.

<”May I help you?”> the receptionist asked in Spanish.

<”Yes,”> Ingrid replied. <”I’m meeting someone at Dr. Pandemonium’s office.”>

<”Dr. Rodriguez?”>

Ingrid nodded, perhaps too quickly.

<”He’s reading in the library,”> said the receptionist, pointing to a door down the hall.

<”Thank you,”> said Ingrid, heading for the door.

Inside she found a long narrow room, the walls lined with books and journal collections.  A long wooden table dominated the room, at the far end of which sat a man in an ill-fitting suit who was identical to the file photo of Dr. Kaspar Figura.

“Dr. Rodriguez?” called Ingrid, closing the door behind her.

Figura looked up expectantly, without verbal response.

“Dr. Figura,” she began, “I’m Ingrid Avellan.  I’m with the O.S.S.”

Figura’s expression remained blank.  “What’s the O.S.S.?” he asked.

“The Office of Strategic Services.  I’m here to get you out of the country.”

“I don’t know who you think I am,” said Figura, “but you better start making sense before I call the police.”

Ingrid set her purse down at the near end of the table, then reached in an withdrew Gregorio’s capsule.  She walked over to Figura and laid the capsule on the table before him.  Figura kept his eyes on her, and she directed his gaze to the capsule, which proceeded to open.

Gregorio climbed out onto the table and raised an arm.  “Hello, Dr. Figura, I’m Gregorio Cortez.”

Figura leaned down and goggled at Gregorio.

“You’re Cortez?!” he gasped.

“Yes, Doctor.  Agent Avellan and I are here to secure your extraction.”

Figura ran his hand over his face and stood up, then crossed his arms and stared at the books on the wall.

“Is something wrong, Doctor?” asked Ingrid.

“Do you have any idea who is after me and how dangerous they are?” exploded Figura.  “I insisted on the O.S.S.’s best agent, and you did this to him!” gesturing at Gregorio.

“Doctor,” Gregorio shouted up, “please sit down.”  Both Figura and Ingrid sat down next to the three-inch-tall spy.

“Ms. Hormel said you had been approached by something called Matador Productions,” continued Gregorio.  “Can you tell us about that?”

Figura looked uncertainly at Gregorio, then relaxed his shoulders.  “They sent a slimy movie producer to get me to sell out.  I denied knowing anything and told him to get lost.”

“Was his name Sid Brown?” asked Ingrid.

“Sounds about right,” said Figura, nodding.

“Agent Avellan here neutralized Brown herself,” said Gregorio.  “You have nothing to fear.”

Figura brought his giant face down next to Gregorio.  “If you think they’ll let something like that stop them, then you’re not smart enough to get me out.”

The scientist turned to Ingrid and scoped her up and down.  “There’s no way I’m going with you.  No offense.”

“None taken,” said Ingrid.  “Tell me Doctor, can you reverse this effect?” she asked, gesturing at Gregorio.

He sat up arrogantly.  “Absolutely.”

“Good,” she replied, triggering the portable miniaturizer she had trained upon Figura under the table.

The tiny Figura lay stunned in the middle of the chair.  Then Ingrid’s enormous face loomed over him framed by waves of light brown hair, and he was lost in the hazel spotlights of her two-foot-wide eyes.  Her ten-foot-wide smile wasn’t unkind, and he offered no protest when her gentle-but-irresistible giant fingers scooped him up and stood him on the table next to Gregorio.

Momentarily relieved to see someone on the same scale, Figura shuffled over to Gregorio, who shook his hand.  “Congratulations, Doctor,” he said.  “You won’t regret joining us.”

The library door opened, and Ingrid reflexively snatched up the two tiny men from the table and slipped them down the front of her shirt.  Gregorio and Figura slid over the slopes of warm flesh until their feet halted their descent at the base of Ingrid’s bra between her C-cups.  To minimize further jostling, Gregorio embraced her mammoth right breast, and Figura hugged her equally massive left breast.

“Does she do this often?” asked Figura, his face half-buried in boobflesh.

“Only with people she likes,” replied Gregorio.

Ingrid stood up to see the receptionist poke her head inside the door.

<”Excuse me,”> said the receptionist, <”but there is a phone call for Dr. Rodriguez.”>

<”He said he was going to use the restroom,”> replied Ingrid.  A perplexed expression came over the receptionist, who probably had been situated to observe any such errand.

Ingrid headed for the door, collecting Gregorio’s capsule and then her purse.

<”I’m sure he’ll be right back,”> said Ingrid.  The receptionist remained suspicious, but she did not obstruct Ingrid as she smiled and hurried out.

After she exited the Theoretical Physics department, Ingrid took a shortcut across a grassy quad, preoccupied with determining the next flight out of the country.  She therefore didn’t notice Isabella Mastica get up from a bench at the corner of the quad, fall in behind her, and press a taser against her kidney.

Ingrid slumped to the ground, but Isabella easily lifted her into a nearby panel van.  After binding and gagging Ingrid, Isabella got behind the wheel and slowly drove the van off campus.

When Ingrid came to, the first thing she noticed was that she was bound spread-eagle by leather straps.  The second thing she noticed was that she was wearing only her bra and underwear.  Looking around, she guessed she was strapped to a table in the disused part of the Matador offices.  Her purse lay on an adjacent table with all its contents—including the capsule and portable miniaturizer—neatly spread out.  The rest of her clothes had been cut off her and piled in shreds in one corner of the table.  Her pistol had been taken from its cache and laid on the table next to her waist.

A look of alarm escalating to horror came over her face, and she had to stifle a scream as she regarded with dread the outlines of movement beneath the fabric of her panties.  She was not visibly relieved to see the tiny heads of Gregorio and Figura emerge from the top of the waistband.

Figura drew a large breath.  “I’d hate to see what she does with people she doesn’t like,” he sputtered.

“Quit complaining,” responded Gregorio.  “At least you got to ride up front.”

The two miniature men climbed out of Ingrid’s underwear, scurried across her abdomen and up between her breasts.  Meeting Ingrid’s eyes and putting a finger to his lips, Gregorio led Figura over her shoulder and disappeared onto the table top behind her head.

Less than a minute later, Isabella entered the room and grinned at Ingrid.

“Ingrid Avellan of the O.S.S.,” she gushed.  “What an honor it is to have you here.”

“Who are you?” Ingrid demanded.

“Who did you think I was when you sent your little partner in here?”

Ingrid blinked and said nothing.

“He was just as uncooperative with my inquiries—at first,” said Isabella, smiling and approaching the helpless Ingrid.  “I think I’m going to have even more fun persuading you to cooperate.”

Isabella leaned over and grappled each of Ingrid’s breasts with her wide hands and started fondling.

“I hardly think anything’s hidden in there,” said Ingrid.

“Oh, really?” retorted Isabella, letting go of Ingrid’s boobs and standing straight.  “A woman keeps all sorts of secrets close to her heart.”

Isabella reached one hand into her own cleavage and withdrew a three-inch-tall figure, which she stood on Ingrid’s sternum.

Ingrid blinked several times, then her jaw fell open.  She recognized this tiny man, but her mind refused to accept it.  With her head still shaking, she finally whispered, “Ernesto?”

The tiny man crossed his arms and leaned against her titanic tit.  “It’s been a long time, Babe,” he said.

“Not that long.”

“Long enough.  Back then you used to believe in something.  Now you’re a whore for the imperialists.”

“And now you’re smaller than the roaches that infested that dump you used to rent.”

“Indeed,” he said, smiling.  “With a fraction of the resources available to your sweet Francesca, I have surpassed her achievements.”

“Surpassed?  Let’s see you reverse it, then.”

Ernesto shook his head and looked up at Isabella.  “I told you they couldn’t do it, Bella.  That’s whey they’re looking for Figura.”

“I’m no whore,” growled Ingrid.  “I’ve simply grown up.”

Ernesto turned back to Ingrid.  “Bella, dear,” he said, “Shears.”

Isabella lifted a pair of heavy shears from the table and snipped through Ingrid’s bra, first at the middle of the band and then at the shoulder straps.  Her fleshy mounds sagged to the side a bit, exacerbated when Ernesto started climbing a tit that to him was eight feet high.  He pulled himself up by her eight-inch nipple and gave it a kiss.

“Tell me,” he said, reclining on her giant boob and looking into her enormous eyes, “Did you feel grown up when they made you work with the man they sent to kill you?”

Ingrid seethed at the tiny man on her chest, stunned at how easily he could still push her buttons.

“Tell me it didn’t make you feel dirty,” he said.

Ingrid looked away, and Isabella half-suppressed a chuckle.  With a disappointed sigh, Ernesto let himself slide off the truck-sized breast and started walking away from Ingrid’s face.  Isabella snipped through Ingrid’s panties and added them to the pile of mutilated clothes.

When he saw the tuft of hair at Ingrid’s crotch, Ernesto gave a dismayed “Ay-ay-ay.”  Walking to her mons, he ran his fingers through her bush and brought them to his nose.  “Is this the way Cortez liked it?” he asked, turning to face her.

“He’s not as delicate as you,” said Ingrid sneeringly.

“Would you like to know how he died?” taunted Isabella.

“Some other time, perhaps,” said Gregorio.

They all turned to see Gregorio standing on the adjacent tabletop, next to the portable miniaturizer that he had trained on Isabella.  He triggered it.

The miniaturizer emitted a blinding flash and Isabella disappeared from view.  Ernesto leapt down from Ingrid’s hip and raced over to her pistol, already pointing approximately at Gregorio.  He disengaged the safety then grabbed the trigger with both hands, trying to slightly correct the weapon’s aim before firing it.

The pistol discharged, and the recoil spun it over the table edge and onto the floor.  The bullet struck the miniaturizer, shattering the crystal.  The impact also spun the miniaturizer, one end of which collided with Gregorio and catapulted him towards Ingrid’s table, where he landed sprawling in her gaping armpit.

Ernesto climbed back up onto Ingrid’s belly, and she squirmed against her restraints to deny him secure footing.  She relented, however, when she felt Gregorio climb out of her armpit onto her shoulder.  Unseen by Ernesto, Gregorio scaled Ingrid’s eight-foot boob to the summit, then pounced on the disoriented Ernesto.

Ingrid tried to keep a professional perspective as she looked down past her unsecured breasts at the two tiny men grappling and rolling around her naked body.  Ernesto seemed to be benefitting more from the uncertain terrain, so she flexed her diaphragm to bounce both of them over her pubic bone and onto the table between her legs.

The valley of Ingrid’s crotch was flanked by her taut fifteen-foot-high thighs and legs that extended to the horizon.  Her gargantuan ass cheeks spread against the table top, heaving about and permitting flashes of light through her crack, but promising to pulverize anyone caught between them.

Above the miniature men loomed the rippling mouth of Ingrid’s pussy.  Seven feet high, her engulfing outer lips were overgrown with light brown hair.  Despite herself, Ingrid had been aroused by the contest between Gregorio and Ernesto, and the top of her giant slit had begun to glisten.

Gregorio recovered first and he threw Ernesto up against Ingrid’s thigh.  He landed two solid punches to Ernesto’s head.  To Ingrid’s alarm and dismay, Gregorio then pulled her giant pink inner lips open and shoved the unresisting Ernesto head-first into her cunt.  When only Ernesto’s legs remained outside, Gregorio shouted to her, “Grab him!”

“How?” she cried.

“With your...you know...” he said, gesturing at her cavernous pussy.

“With my what?” she said, unable to see his tiny gestures.

He threw up his hands and gave an exasperated sigh.  “When we get back,” he said, “we’re going to have a long talk.”

Ernesto’s foot shot upward and caught Gregorio squarely beneath his jaw.  Gregorio jerked back against her thigh and fell to the table top.  By the time he had recovered, he saw Ernesto running down toward Ingrid’s feet.  Gregorio raced after him and tackled him just after they passed her boat-sized foot.  Both tiny men tumbled over the table edge.

After his many miniature misadventures, Gregorio was unsurprised to find that the fall to the carpeted floor only knocked the wind out of him.  Standing up, he saw Ernesto about thirty subjective feet away under the other table, still on his hands and knees.  Loosening his neck and cracking his knuckles, Gregorio walked toward his foe.  Just after he passed one table leg, however, something flashed over his face and he only barely got his fingers between his throat and the garrote with which Isabella was trying to strangle him.

“I am going to send you to a deep dark place,” she hissed in his ear, tugging the wire tight, “and I am going to have fun doing it!”

Ernesto had gotten to his feet, and he smiled when he saw Gregorio struggling to breathe.

“Bella tells me your stamina and tolerance for pain are extraordinary,” said Ernesto.  “That’s good.  I want this to last a while.”  He started to unsling his belt.

Gregorio’s vision dimmed and he thought he was about to pass out, but a shadow fell over them all, and an immense white wall crashed down in front of Gregorio.  Isabella’s garrote slackened, and they both looked up to see the titanic form of Ingrid towering over them in her terrible, naked glory.

Ingrid grinned at the tiny people at her feet, then slowly lowered herself onto her colossal haunches.  Isabella and Gregorio lost all thought of their conflict as they watched Ingrid’s gigantic crotch descend, her pussy lips spreading as it came.  Her juddering boobs swayed over them like pink-tipped hot-air balloons as she leaned forward and became the roof of their heavens.

Gregorio hadn’t seen any sign of Ernesto since Ingrid’s obliterating foot came down, but now she reached down with a tree-sized arm and plucked the tiny Ernesto and brought him to her enormous, smirking face, his belt dangling loosely after him.

“Keep your pants on, Ernie,” said Ingrid mockingly.  “I’ve misplaced my magnifying glass.”

Her smirk widening to a grin, she lowered the tiny Ernesto between her legs and pushed him into her giant hairy twat until he disappeared and then deeper still.

Isabella recovered from her shock and started to flee.  “Where do you think you’re going?” thundered Ingrid, snatching the tiny woman up in her fist.  Isabella screamed when Ingrid brought her before her immense predatory eyes.

“You experimented in college, right?” taunted Ingrid.  Isabella cried in terror as she descended, but her screams were cut off as Ingrid’s nether lips swallowed her whole.  Ingrid collected Gregorio and stood up.

“Can you hold them for good?” he asked his giant partner.

“Oh, they’re not going anywhere,” she said, patting her abdomen just above her mons.  “Figura explained it to me,” indicating the tiny scientist standing beside one of the unbuckled wrist straps, where he clearly had been busy.

“I call dibbs on the capsule,” shouted Figura.