* * * * *

Tomiko Phan had been born in Seoul, South Korea, as the only daughter of an ROK marine officer and his Vietnamese war bride. But, from the age of one onward, she had been raised in Japan, as a result of her father's transfer to the South Korean embassy in Tokyo.

She had been a nineteen year-old freshman, attending Doshisha University in Kyoto, when her parents' marriage finally broke up. Consequently, she had been forced to drop out of school and work alongside her mother, as a cleaning woman, at the Vietnamese embassy. The bitter resentment this fostered in Tomiko prompted her to legally change her surname, to her mother's maiden name, on turning twenty-one. Following which, at the urging of her Zainichi boyfriend, she had joined a militant student organization-- called the Chongryeon--composed entirely of Zainichi who were pro-North Korea!

It was as a result of her arrest for assaulting a police officer (from whom she had technically been defending herself during a somewhat overzealous crack-down on a riot between the Chongryeon and their anti-North Korean counterparts, the Midan) that she first encountered Park Kim Jung.

The latter had spent a good deal of the Cold War serving as a North Korean operative of the KGB. He had even studied with a Japanese ninja cult, known as the Heikegani-ryu, on their behalf! Nowadays, however, he worked strictly for the Vladivostok branch of the Russian Mob. Serving as an intermediary between them and the Okada Clan of the Yakuza.

Or, at least, that was what he had led most people to believe.

In reality, following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the North Korean government had reassigned Park to Beijing. There, he would now be working, on behalf of the Chinese Ministry of State Security, to set up a martial arts school in Japan. A martial arts school that would cater exclusively to Zainichi! And it was only to the worthiest of those students that he would personally teach the secrets...

...of Heikegani-ryu ninjutsu.

So were born the Am Jha Hwa Rang. Literally, "the Flowering Youth of Darkness!" But, often more alliteratively referred to as "the Knights of the Night." Yet, by whatever name they were talked about, the talking was invariably done in hushed whispers.

There was no whispering, however, when the chunin of the sub-sect asked their surviving trainees...The Question.

"Do you now swear eternal loyalty to the Am Jha Hwa Rang above everyone and everything else? Including family, friends, and any and all laws of the outside world?"

"Hai!"

Those few who had shown even a second's hesitation in answering in the affirmative were summarily executed. In her case, though, Tomiko had meant it when she said "yes!"  Whereupon, Park Kim Jung had stepped forward to congratulate her. Adding, as he did so, that he already had her first assignment.

"A businessman named Nakafusa wishes to cleanse his company of perverted capitalistic filth. Lovers of child pornography who go by these aliases!"

He presented her with a computer print-out with six names.

STARGATOR
HAPPY CAMPER
DEE W.
YAOIFAN91
SPACERANGER321
EL CAZEDOR

"We have traced their web-surfing activities to an American West Coast branch of his corporation," the seventy-something North Korean told her: "You will infiltrate that company; discern their true identities; and eliminate them, accordingly."

"Hai, Park-sensei."

tbc

* * * * *

Peter "Flash" Gordon (an inevitable--if highly unoriginal--nickname derived from his glory days as a high school track star) had been the founder of Gordon Technological Services back in the 1980's. The so-called "good old days" when speculative investment seemed to have the blessing of President Ronald Reagan, himself! But, by the early 1990's, he (like a lot of other independent businessmen) found himself forced to declare bankruptcy and sell his business to a Japanese conglomerate. In his case, the Nakafusa Corporation. As a result, Gordon was reduced to being a mere Senior Executive Vice-President instead of a CEO. His former company subsequently renamed "GTS, Inc."

It was nearly midnight when he finished the progress report Old Man Nakafusa had asked for, via webcam conference call. Whereupon, he got up from his swivel chair and stretched the kinks out of his upper torso for about five minutes. He then grabbed himself a cup of coffee, from his personal coffee maker, before sitting back down and turning on the computer. When he tried to access his favorite erotica site, however, something strange happened.

He found himself staring at a screen-saver photo of someone wearing a kabuki mask fashioned to resemble the face of a long-eared owl!

"What the frig...?" he muttered half aloud.


"Peter Gordon?" an electronically garbled voice seemed to inquire in response: "Aka SpaceRanger321?"

The former CEO gasped.

"How the frig...?!"

"I am the Phantom Miko. Avenger of innocent children. And you have been judged guilty of victimizing them through your high praise of stories depicting them as nothing more than shrunken sex-slaves! Therefore, let the punishment...fit the crime."

Before Gordon could utter another expletive in astonished disbelief, he suddenly found himself hand-gagged from behind! Following which, a wave of vertigo swept over him. His last conscious thought being:

"Is this what getting chloroformed feels like?"

When he came to, he found himself on a smooth black surface that had a faintly familiar smell. It took him a moment to recognize it. Then, he sat bolt upright, in full realization. That was the smell of his aftershave! But, why was it so overpowering? He was sure he never put on that much in the morning. And, yet, right now, it seemed to be coming from all around him.

That was when she stepped into view from behind the swivel chair. A seemingly one hundred foot-tall giantess with long black hair wearing nothing but a loin cloth...fashioned out of the white shirt he had been wearing all day.

That was when he had his second realization.

"Holy Shit! I'm stark naked!!"

"Do not worry, Mr. Gordon," replied a decidedly female voice: "You will not die of embarrassment. Of that much, I can assure you!"

He looked up at the giantess.

"That voice. I know that voice! You're..."

She flicked him in his lower jaw with her tremendous left index finger. In his current state, of course, that blow possessed enough proportionate force to send him flying straight back. Making him ricochet off the backrest of the swivel chair like a racquetball! And, then, landing face-first, like a wide receiver making a belly-flop catch.

Naturally, that knocked the wind out of him. But, he still had enough strength and stamina to push himself up on his elbows and tilt his head upward. Just in time to hear the last thing he would ever hear anybody say...in this world.

"You like stories about children used as living butt-stoppers? Try stopping the descent of this butt!"

Whereupon, her shirt-enshrouded derriere descended like a pile driver. Instantly crushing the shrunken businessman into a blood-soaked pancake. Just to be sure, however, the owner of that shapely posterior moved it back and forth. As if she were an elderly paraplegic doing The Twist!

Only then did the giantess stand up and remove the shirt from around her waist. Gazing at the smear of blood on the back of it, before draping it across the arms of the swivel chair.

"One down; five to go," she whispered to herself with a smile.

tbc

* * * * *

Jeremiah Chadwick--B.S./Poli-Sci and D.Jur from the University of Florida, with an MBA from Harvard--had gone to bed an hour earlier than usual because he had an important meeting in the morning. David West, in Human Resources, was concerned about the legality of some of the lay-offs he had been ordered to implement. So, naturally, Chadwick was quite disoriented during the first two seconds after he was awakened by the ringing of his V-tec cordless telephone on the night stand to the left of his bed.

Picking up the pencil-thin receiver, he looked at the caller I.D. through semi-bleary eyes.

" 'PhantomMiko 1.0?' What the frig is that supposed to mean? Probably one of those frigging Third World telemarketers! Up at the crack of their dawn to try and sell us stuff we used to make. Screw them all...and the camels they rode in on!"

The politically incorrect attorney slammed the receiver back on to its cradle before lying back down. Only for the phone to start ringing, again! So, Chadwick sat up again, twice as fast as the first time...and twice as angry.

"Listen, you son of a...!"

"Jeremiah Chadwick; alias Stargator."

That electronically garbled reply not only froze him in mid-sentence. It also chilled him to the soul! There was only one place, in all of cyberspace, where he used that screen-name. And there was no way anyone should have been able to call him, on this particular telephone, using it!

"I have found you guilty of praising stories that depict the sexual exploitation of underage children. Therefore, let the punishment fit..."

Chadwick slammed the receiver down a second time. Following which, he ran to his bureau, and started rummaging through the top drawer, with frantic urgency.

"Looking for this, Stargator?"

The corporate attorney spun about...and gasped in fright.

There, he beheld a nightmarish figure dressed in black and standing on its right leg. With his burner cellphone in its right hand! The former defensive tackle did not even waste words in asking how that had happened, or demanding its return. He simply charged forward. Whereupon, that nightmarish figure hopped off its right leg, to deliver a powerful crane kick to just below the waist band of Chadwick's pajama pants (while simultaneously landing on its left leg)!

It then delivered a left-handed tiger claw strike to the right side of Chadwick's face. Knocking the corporate attorney out cold.

When he finally regained consciousness, the first thing he did was to feel his lower jaw. Miraculously, it did not feel broken! He then sat up in order to see if his gonads had been even more seriously damaged. That was when he realized two things. First; that he was stark naked. And, secondly; that he was staring at the head board of his bed.

The latter now looked to be the size of a Times Square billboard.

Chadwick had read enough on-line macrophilia stories to recognize what had happened. Somehow, he had been shrunken! But, how could such a thing be possible, in real life?

Unfortunately, he would never live to learn the answer.

"As I started to say, before you so rudely hung up on me," declared a female voice he recognized almost immediately: 'Let the punishment fit the crime.' "

Chadwick craned his head upward, and over his left shoulder. Thereby spotting his pajama pants wrapped around the ass of an otherwise naked giantess! An ass that quickly crashed down on top of him, blacking out all his surroundings.

And, of course, ending his life.

When Tomiko Phan stood back up, she placed the bloody-seated pajama pants on top of Chadwick's bed. She then used her own burner cellphone to call "911" and anonymously report a break-in at Chadwick's address. All before using his burner to access a certain X-rated website...and then leaving that phone right next to the pajama pants.

tbc

* * * * *

Janice Dean--Director of Marketing for GTS, Inc.--was in the middle of a wet dream when she heard the noise.

She had been dreaming that she was a giantess chasing a bunch of elementary school-age spoiled brats. Each one that she crushed beneath her sandals causing her to have an almost orgasmic response! But, just as she had cornered the last of them, her left foot raised above their crying-and-pleading faces, she suddenly heard a familiar "thunk" from the skies over head. This, in turn, made her eyes fly open. Naturally resulting in a moment or two of disorientation.

She sat up in bed, looking at her surroundings. Nothing, however, looked out of the ordinary. Not, that is, at first glance. It was only as her head passed the sliding glass doors to the balcony, overlooking her expensively maintained backyard, that her head snapped back. Noticing how a sudden gust of night wind made the translucent satin curtains blow inward.

Positive she had closed and locked the left-hand door, she got out of bed and anxiously tip-toed over to make doubly certain it would be secure, this time. But, even as her right hand reached out to grasp the handle, someone else's left hand grabbed hold of her wrist!

Janice immediately tried to scream. She was silenced, however, by a pair of of right-hand fingers planting themselves atop her carotid artery. Fingers that exerted just enough pressure to knock her out. In short?

A real-world version of the Vulcan neck pinch.

When Janice reawakened, the first thing she saw was what she first took to be a giant lingerie ad. Then, she realized something.

"Those look like a pair of...wait a minute. They are! Those are a pair of my panties!! How...?"

"You have been shrunken, Janice Dean. Alias Happy Camper!
And I compliment you on keeping such a svelte figure at your age. Because this pair are a perfect fit on me, as well!"

Janice involuntarily gasped at hearing her computer screen name used by this giant (yet plainly female) intruder. For there was only one website where she used it and only a handful of people who knew that. Because they subscribed to it, too!

"Who are you?" she demanded (despite her small size): "And how do you know my secret? Which one of those bastards...? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

That last part was screamed in terror as she saw the giant, shapely posterior descend upon her like a pile driver. When the Phantom Miko was sure the little pervert was no longer among the living, she stood back up and removed the blood-stained panties.

"Three down," she muttered: "Three to go."

* * * * *

WILLOW GLEN,
SAN JOSE, CAL.
(2:30 A.M./PDT)

The owner of the intrusive fist pounded four more times on the front door before it finally opened to reveal the groggy-but-indignant face of the houses's owner.

"Who the frig...?!"

"Mr. David West? I'm Deputy Michael Pfeiffer; Santa Clara County Sheriff's Department. This is my partner, Deputy Elizabeth Drummond. We need you to come with us, please."

"At this hour??? What the frig for?"

"We need to ask you some questions concerning the disappearance of Jeremiah Chadwick...and kiddie-porn."

tbc

* * * * *

Sheriff Julio Maldonado sat down at the only table in the interrogation room. The chair opposite him occupied by an increasingly nervous man.

"Mr. West? Are you familiar with a website called 'Liluns?' "

"Uh, no," replied the Director of Human Resources: "Can't say that I am. Why?"

"Because, the deputies who brought you here, responded to an anonymous tip, earlier tonight. A tip about a break-in at the residence of your co-worker, Jeremiah Chadwick. When they got there, they found the front door half-ajar. But, after thoroughly searching the house, the only traces they found of Mr. Chadwick, himself, were a blood-stained pair of his pajama pants. And a cellphone opened to the aforementioned website!"

"A kiddie-porn website...featuring a story called 'Plugged In.' And with one of the reviewers calling himself 'Dee W!' Now, correct me if I'm wrong. But, those sound an awful lot like your initials. Wouldn't you agree?"

"W-W-Wait a minute," West stammered: "Are you implying that I'm some kind of closet p-p-pedophile?!"

"You mean, you're not?"

"Of course not!!!" West shouted, the palms of his hands slapping the table top in perfectly synchronized emphasis.

A second later, however, he realized how that made him look to the sheriff, as well as whoever else might be watching from behind the one-way mirror. So, he instantly inhaled and reiterated (in a much-softer voice):

"Of course not. I mean, it'd be really stupid of me to use my initials for a screen name. Especially, if I were someone perverted enough to patronize such a site. Which I'm most definitely not!"

"In that case," replied the sheriff: "...which one of the other reviewers are you? Stargator? Happy Camper? SpaceRanger321? Yaoifan...?"

Sheriff Maldonado didn't even have to read the complete screen name. Not after seeing how rigid West's posture suddenly went. True, it was only for a second! But, it was a very tell-tale second, nonetheless.

"So, you are a reviewer! Did Mr. Chadiwck know? Is that why he's missing?"

"W-What?!"

"Was he blackmailing you? Is that it? Or, did he simply threaten to out you to the high mucky-muck of the company unless you resigned voluntarily? "

"Are you kidding me?" West exclaimed: "That glorified, over-educated redneck was an even bigger pedophile than me! Why do you think he called himself 'Stargator?!' Now, either let me go or arrest me. Either way, I'm not saying anything else without a lawyer!"

Sheriff Maldonado opted to do the latter. Getting up from his chair and personally handcuffing the scumbag before him! But, it was not until West had been fingerprinted and photographed that Maldonado allowed him to have his one phone call.

* * * * *

ALVISO, CALIFORNIA
(3:30 A.M./PDT)

Joseph Hunter--head of internal security for GTS, Inc.--reluctantly woke up from his sound sleep.

"What the frig...?" he muttered, as he finally recognized the sound of his bedside phone ringing. So, even more reluctantly, he sat up and put his bare feet on the floor before reaching out to pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Joe? It's Dave! I'm under arrest...for suspicion of murder."

"What?!"

"They think I killed Jerry! Call the boss. Tell him to get his pet shyster out here, from Frisco, to bail me out. Toot-sweet! Or, I swear to God, I'm gonna out him, you; and everybody else!"

"Whoa! Whoa!! WHOA!!!" exclaimed Hunter: "Slow down, Joe. Don't do anything stupid. I'll call Pete, soon as we hang up."

"Tell him he's got till sun-up, Joe. I mean it!"

All that followed was a click and a buzzing noise. So, Hunter paused to shake his head. As he leaned forward to keep his (somewhat extorted) promise, however, he heard a female voice softly call to him from the other side of his bed.

"Joe? Is there anything wrong?"

"Yeah, Sugar Buns. An emergency has come up at work and they need me at the plant. Right away!"

"Can't Yaoifan91 handle it?"

"Nah! He..."

It took him a second to realize what his voluptuous bedfellow had said. He then spun about...coming face to face with the owl-faced oni mask.

"Hola, El Cazedor!"

tbc

* * * * *

No matter how deplorable his taste in reading matter, Joseph Hunter had two things to his credit. His courage and reaction time. They had helped him to survive Operation: Desert Storm. They had helped him through twenty years as a vice-cop with the LAPD. So, surely they would help him deal with this bizarre bullshit!

Well, that and the .357 magnum revolver in his nightstand drawer.

Yet, even as he withdrew it, and spun about to aim it (in less time than it takes to tell), the thirty-something woman he had been taking to bed for the last four months proved even faster. She threw a hard-boiled egg down at his feet. The hard wood shattering the shell and thereby allowing the combustible chemicals within to ignite. Resulting in a flash of light that momentarily blinded him; a cloud of acrid white smoke that made him start coughing and gagging; and a bang that temporarily half-deafened him. Preventing him from seeing and hearing his seductive assailant as she sprang from the bed...

...and stabbed him in the navel with a drug-tipped acupuncture needle.

"UHHHHHHHNH!" he groaned as he fell to the floor face-first. His paralyzed fingers becoming unable to hold the gun. Fortunately (or, perhaps, unfortunately, depending on one's point of view), she caught the dropped revolver with her right hand. Thereby preventing it from probably going off on impact with the floor!

"You do not get off that easy, El Cazedor. I have questions that must be answered."

Hunter was in no condition to reply. Not until an unknown amount of time later, when he felt himself being lifted out of whatever dark, dank, and smelly place he had been stowed away within. What he saw subsequent to that, however, immediately made him wish he was still hidden inside there! For what he beheld was like something out of a Lovecraftian pastiche.

A stark-naked giantess with a giant-sized owl perched on her shoulder. Well, giant-sized to him, anyway! Yet, comparatively smaller than its apparent master.

"Vickie, please!" he exclaimed (finally able to open his mouth, again): "I don't know what's happening, here. But..."

She cut him off with a flick of her left foot's big toe.

"Victoria Fukuda of Tech Support is no more. Baka! She was merely my way of infiltrating your company, six months ago. With the first two months spent attracting your attention. After all; what better way to get access to all of the employees' computer pass words? Imagine my mixed feelings at discovering that you were one of the half-dozen I sought! Pleasant surprise that you had made my job so much easier. And amazement that you would use the Spanish word for 'hunter' as your screen name. Even David West was not so arrogant as to think that was good enough camouflage!"

"Which brings us to my first question; who is the real Dee W.?"

"And if I co-operate, what do I get in return?"

The nude kunoichi grinned and bent down--with sensuous slowness--to gently pick him up with the the thumb and forefinger of her left hand. She then moved him to her right, so that his left foot now dangled over the little owl...

...who promptly bit off Hunter's little toe.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She waited until he had stopped screaming before speaking again, herself.

"Answer my question, truthfully, and you will die with merciful quickness. Try to bargain for more lenient terms? And Tatarimokke will dine on all nine of your remaining toes! Trust me, Hunter. As the author of such Dark Web filth as 'Plugged In,' you would highly deserve the latter. But, I wish to leave this decadent waste of a nation as soon as possible! So, I ask once more. Who is Dee W.? And where I can find him (or her, as the case might be)?"

Hunter told her. And, for just a second, she let her emotional guard down. Thereby displaying a shocked facial expression that Hunter sensed was completely genuine. The next moment, however, her face was back to its stonily impassive self. Whereupon, she placed him down atop a wooden chair...and then sat on him. Hard!

To Be Concluded

* * * * *

It was a one-story building made of brick. The rooftop ledge of which was dominated by a large white sign with black lettering.

"OOWASHI DOJO
D. Washio-Prop."

Below that notice, hung a slightly smaller sign bearing the likeness of a Steller's Sea Eagle.

Officially, this dojo taught a substyle of uechi-ryu karate based on eagle-claw kung fu. In reality, it was a front for a spy ring that Washio Daiwa had been placed in charge of only five-and-a-half years following his recruitment and training by the Am Jha Hwa Rang! And, so far, everything was going better than he had originally planned. Yet, even as the Zainichi spy opened the dojo, in preparation for that day's first class, he immediately sensed that something was out of the ordinary.

His instinct proved correct.

"Widaehan Doksuri."

The thirty-something ninja in the black hoodie, matching sweatpants, and white sneakers stiffened at the sound of that female voice. He slowly turned around to look behind him. For there was only one woman, currently visiting the United States, who knew his North Korean code-name (which meant "great eagle" in English)!

"Tomiko-chen?"

"Only my friends may call me that. You...will address me as Torafuzuku."

Washio smiled at the dual hook-sword-wielding kunoichi standing in his office doorway.

"The Tiger Owl? I like that! It suits you."

"And I know the truth about you," she countered: "Joseph Hunter told me everything...before I crushed him out of existence between my ass cheeks!"

"Oh, really! And what is it you think you know?"

"I know you used the martial arts lessons you gave his security guards to befriend him. And thereby eventually learned his secret! A secret you promised you would never reveal...so long as he periodically supplied you with classified information relating to American government contracts."

"But, as time went on, you developed the same proclivity. Even to the point of reviewing his stories using your initials (written in the American fashion)!

Washio chuckled: "A rather clever touch, if I do say so myself! Although, admittedly, nowhere near as clever as the pun on your own little name. Phan Tomiko? Phantom Miko?"

His ex-girlfriend refused to be distracted as she persisted with her questioning.

"The only thing I don't know is why. Why would you debase yourself in such a fashion?"

He simply shrugged: "What can I say? What began as morbid curiosity...became a forbidden pleasure. One for which I offer no apology, whatsoever!"

"You are a disgrace, Washio," Tomiko replied: "To yourself; to the Am Jha Hwa Rang; and to the Chosen People's Republic."

Washio now laughed maniacally.

" 'Chosen People?' Now, that's the funniest pun of all! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Cumulative hormone imbalance," muttered Tomiko: "It must be. You've been driven insane by one too many size fluctuations; and you refuse to admit it! For that reason, and because of our past relationship, I am willing to let you commit seppuku..."

She threw the hook sword in her right hand on top of his desk.

"...with me as your kaishaku. Your only other alternative is being killed by me in single combat. After which, I shall feed your corpse to my little owl!"

Washio looked down at the hook-sword.

"I choose...Door Number Two! Kiaiiiiiiiiii!"

Whereupon, he grabbed up the hook-sword and vaulted over the desk!! Shrinking away to virtually nothing as he did so. To not be outdone, Tomiko did the same thing at the same speed.

Shouts and clangs soon came wafting upward from the carpet.

* * * * *

KYOTO, JAPAN
(2 WEEKS LATER)

"My condolences on your loss, Tomiko-chen," said Park Kim Jung: "It's a shame it had to end this way for him. Washio-san had great promise!"

"Domo arigato, Sensei," she replied.

"Did he die relatively quickly?" Park now asked: "Or did he babble like a lunatic to the last?"

"He did seem to have one lucid moment," Tomiko admitted: "He said something about the Am Jha Hwa Rang not having been formed, by Pyeongchang, to compete with the Heikegani-ryu. But, rather, to blame them for any assassinations, committed by us, on behalf of advancing the cause of world socialism! At least, that is what Pyeongchang believes."

"In reality, the Knights of the Night are allegedly controlled by the Heikegani-ryu! Part of their master plan to control the North Korean government the same way they control the Earth Tiger Tong of China."

Park shook his head in all-too clear pity.

"Washio-san was farther gone than I thought. Which makes your 'euthanasia' of him all the more commendable."

"Arigato, sensei," she replied: "For I would hate to think there was any basis to what he said. I would therefore hate to learn that the Am Jha Hwa Rang are simply puppets. Rather than puppet masters!

Park laughingly nodded, before asking Tomiko-chen to kneel upon the bare floor, which she did. Whereupon, he withdrew a bokken from a scabbard across the small of his back. He then used it to melodramatically tap the kunoichi once on each of her shoulders.

"Arise! You who will now be known, permanently, as Torafuzuku."

* * * * *

EPILOGUE

ISLE OF THE GOD-TEACHERS

Mr. G leafed through the entire manuscript.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked (with an ever-decreasing hope he could change his fellow author's mind).

Aryc Omcic nodded.

"It was a pleasant experience, initially. But, now, there's no joy in it. Not only do I have more works in progress than I do completed efforts. But, to add insult to injury? Asukafan has let this website go to hell! At least as far as the original concept goes. Instead of restricting the stories to interactions between normal-sized men and giantesses, or shrunken men and normal-sized women, he's permitting the posting of stories about slash, incest, and molestation of kids under the age of ten!!!"

"So, unless and until he rectifies that, I'm out of here. But, I won't be impulsive about it. In fairness to him, I'll delete only my incompletes. See you around, G."

"It's been nice knowing you, C."

The two authors then shook hands before going their separate ways.

THE END