CHET NORTHFIELD'S P.O.V.
* * * * *
As you've no doubt already guessed, her handcuffs snapped apart like a paper chain. While, at the same time, the blazer that had modestly been placed over got torn to shreds. But, her cream/orange leotard? Not only did that remain intact. It also grew to giant-size with her!
And Laura Petrie didn't _stop_ growing until she had reached a height of one hundred feet.
After that, she headed towards the civilian side of Billy Mitchell Airport. Hopping, skipping, and jumping like a humongous ballerina...until she reached the control tower. There, she smiled and curtsied while two RC "flying saucers" suddenly materialized directly over her head!
The one hovering over her left shoulder then fired a pencil-thin beam of white light that shrank her back down to normal size...and probably beyond. Because, the second saucer then fired a similar beam of light! Only, this one was of slightly longer duration. Making me wonder if this might be the real-life equivalent of a STAR TREK tractor beam. Gravitationally attracting our former captive aboard before departing, with its "sister ship," while the rest of us just stood and watched from just outside the front doorway of what had once been a glorified guard house.
Yet, which now lay in ruins.
Thirty minutes later, we were all of us airborne, on a Lockheed Hercules, eastbound for M.A.C.H.O. Headquarters. Naturally, the loudness of the plane's engines forced us to wear foam rubber-padded headphones. But, thanks to Captain Stone and his cyber-telepathy, we were now able to converse with Myron Meriwether via the lap top that my cousin Sam's daughter, Naomi, had brought along with her.
* * * * *
MILES STONE'S P.O.V.
"A hundred feet tall?!" Meriwether exclaimed.
I grimly nodded.
"And, in full view of the public?" he added.
I shrugged: "Well, in full view of everyone in the control tower, at least."
He gave himself a double face-palm: "Oh, shit."
"Don't worry," I hastened to reassure him: "I already circulated an anonymous tip, via social media, that it was an elaborate publicity stunt for a new sci-fi flick! A three-dimensional image projected by experimental lasers attached to some of those new toy-sized drones with the fan-like rotor blades."
"Quick thinking, Captain," sighed Meriwether with a grateful nod: "I'm afraid, however, that plausible disinformation is only half the battle."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"The last time Uncle Sam dealt with a true giantess was in December of 1962. And she was the result of an accidental biochemical mutation!* One that somehow negated the usual limitations of a human skeleton's ability to support only so much weight in relation to height. Yet, here we are; now faced with a segment of the female American population that can be enlarged, en masse, on purpose!! Solution 62 is, therefore, not a viable first defense against such forces. Not in a wide-scale _open_ battle, anyway."
I nodded again, adding: "Especially, when you consider how bulletproof these girls appear to be at this size. Laura Petrie was fired upon by every member of the Wisconsin Air National Guard, present, who was any good with an M-16. Yet, not one bullet seemed to affect her any worse than a mosquito bite!"
That's when my partner, Naomi, chimed in.
"Maybe we can give ourselves an edge by reverse-engineering that nano-parasite Uncle Chet managed to skewer."
Whereupon, a smile reappeared, on Meriwether's face, faster than you can say "Holy Shit."
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN
(AUGUST 2014)
(AUGUST 2014)
Chapter End Notes:
*See "WHAT PRICE, VICTORY?".