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Author's Chapter Notes:
AUGUST 17, 2009

"It was certainly great the way you came to our rescue, at the last minute," said Deborah Miller-Law. She and her husband were hosting a private get-together with Ray Venn and Dana Schorr-Geraghty. With the latter two alternating with Deborah in updating Steve about the climactic battle at Alice Springs, Australia.

"I agree," he now replied: "But, at the risk of looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth; how did Dana know where to find you? Let alone, crash that nightclub act, like she did?"

"Well," the Sizeloan actress began: "Ray's folks were becoming worried about him. His mom, in particular. So, his dad decided to use his contacts with the Size Island Constabulary to arrange for a rendezvous with Kathor South!"

"What?!" Deb exclaimed.

Dana nodded: "Rodney reasoned that the Sitmobtia might be unaware of how the Doomsday Society was exploiting it. And, if they _were_ made aware of it, they might dislike that enough to help do something about it!"

"Makes sense," declared Ray: "If the Doomsday Society achieves their seemingly impossible goal, the Sitmobtia's human-trafficking days are over. And, they wouldn't appreciate losing that big a source of revenue."

"Exactly!" continued Dana: "So, Kat used her own connections to do a little digging. If only to confirm that Rodney wasn't feeding her a line. When she got that confirmation, she...was...PISSED!"

Consequently, Kathor outfitted Dana (who had volunteered for the rescue assignment) with the equipment and clothing necessary to rescue the real General Michaelsen, while posing as a member of S.E.T.H. Including a Grolex watch with built-in crosstime-warp activator.

"So, what does that mean for Jerktor Bigla and his accomplices?" asked Steve.

"Frankly?" replied Ray: "I couldn't care less. But, it's bound to be something poetically just. You can bet on that!"

* * * * *


"No, please! Not that, Ms. South. Anything but that!"

Jerktor Bigla squirmed, as he tried to free himself from the stagnatanium chains he had been wrapped in, from head to foot, after being shrunken by the high-ranking Sitmobtian. The forty-something platinum blonde looked down at him (literally and otherwise) with contempt.

"It's either this, or a one-way trip down her gullet. And, personally? I'd rather see the latter! But, your father wouldn't like that. He's lost too many sons, as it is. And, I wouldn't like him expressing that dislike through his political influence! So, we've compromised; a year of community service for you. As part of Zavia's act!"

The Sizeloan bellydancer stepped forward, her face blushing with guilt.

"I'm sorry about this, Jerktor. Really! But, this was the only way they'd show me any leniency."

And, with that, she used the free end of the stagnatanium chain to bind the frantic fanatic to her right ankle. Whereupon, she began to do her most energetic dance for Kathor. A dance guaranteed to make her bare feet very, _very_ sweaty.

* * * * *


"So, what are you going to do now, Rog?" aske Ray.

The sizehu private eye had picked up his client from Sizae-oni and (after shrinking both of them to an inch tall) rode Edgar Allen Crow back to "Jolly Roger's" hometown.

"Well, you've certainly given me an interesting story for my website!" exclaimed the conspiracy theorist: "Although, even my biggest contributors probably won't believe one word of it."

"Hey!" admonished Ray (half-seriously): "Just remember; just because because you're paranoid doesn't mean that nobody's out to get you."

"I'm not worried," replied J-Rog: "Sizae-oni said that the next time somebody tries to get me, I can teleport to her place with this."

He held up what looked like a scallop.

"What's that?" asked Ray.

"A clamshell teleporter! Whenever I want to visit her, I just have to wish to do so. And, the clamshell will magically enlarge itself; protectively engulf me inside it; and, voila! I'm enjoying her undersea hospitality, again."

Ray grinned and winked, suggestively: "Sounds like you had a nice time, during your stay with Sizae-oni."

J-Rog developed an even bigger grin: "It was a...whale...of a nice time."

* * * * *


Thare looked around them in bewilderment. One moment, he and Mark Blefescu had been discussing how extensively they had been set back by the failure of their scheme. The next moment, they were in front of a wooden table and chair in what looked like a scaled-down replica of the Athenian Parthenon! Only in much better shape than the original.

Sitting in the aforementioned chair was a being who looked very familiar to the demon.

"Where have I seen you, before?"

"I used to be known as Jake Thiessen. And, you might have seen me sitting in the backrow, at that Council of Thirteen hearing in Iraq."

"Council of What?!" exclaimed Mark.

"Never mind!" snapped Thare: "I know what he's talking about. And, it doesn't concern you."

"Yes and no," replied Jake: "The Doctrine of Limited Interference was established at that hearing. And, the Treaty of Harrisburg is the manifestation of that doctrine on my former homeworld. You two violated that treaty with your Byzantine plot. The only mitigating circumstance in your favor is that you were partially under the Co-Ed's influence. So, I'll let that slide (just this once!), if you tell me where she transmigrated to."

The sizevamp and the demon looked at each other. Their internal debate clearly visible on their faces.

* * * * *


Every single boy in the class gazed raptly at their new English literature teacher. The green-eyed redhead smiled as she introduced herself.

"Greetings, gentlemen. My name is Ms. Anderson. And, today, we'll be reading and discussing...GULLIVER'S TRAVELS by Jonathan Swift."

The End?
Chapter End Notes:
So ends a two-part story that I initially envisioned as being like a Giantess World version of Writing.com. Where I set up the premise, and D.X. and Mr. G (the real "idea men") collaborate on the rest of it. Once again, however, Sir Pix is proven correct: some stories virtually write themselves. I just hope that this one was enjoyed by both reviewers and lurkers, alike. ;-)
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