Part II

Michelle had felt fine when she'd gotten on her plane three days earlier, but as the long hours of the cross-country flight dragged on, she began feeling worse and worse. When she'd first started coughing, she thought there might have been some irritant in the air recirulating inside the plane, but her symptoms grew worse, becoming flu-like. In her mind, the specter of anthrax contamination reared its awful head.
    By the time she arrived in Las Vegas, she was so tired and achy that she could think of nothing else but climbing into a bed and sleeping forever. She barely managed to drag herself and her luggage to the Montgomery Hotel, and then paid dearly to have her bags carried to her room.
    She labored to pull the clothes from her body and put on her favorite nightshirt, but before collapsing into the bed, she unplugged the phone so she wouldn't be disturbed. She'd wait until morning to call in.
    Getting into bed was the best thing she had felt since she'd hugged Kerp good-bye at the airport, and as she closed her eyes, they burned behind their lids. Sleep was upon her in mere seconds. As the fever was deep-frying her brain, the synapses began making improper connections, and delirium set in.
    She'd sleep deeply for an hour or two without moving a muscle, and then toss and turn for a while in the heat of fever dreams. Her body shut down as many functions as possible as it fought against the invasion, and she slept for the rest of that day, through the night, and most of the next day before groggily opening her eyes. As much as she hated leaving her warm cocoon, she had to relieve herself, so she staggered to the bathroom for a brief excursion into the land of the living.
    She steadied her enormous aching breasts with her palms as she lowered herself onto the commode. They felt so tight and heavy. And her pee was hot coming out. She consoled herself that at least her stomach felt okay: she hated throwing up.
    It seemed to take forever to finish but eventually she did, and after a small drink of water she climbed back into bed. The digital clock by the bed said 3:33, but her weary mind assumed it was displaying a row of backward E's due to a malfunction of its computer chip. It was daylight outside already. As she huddled beneath the covers trying to regain her warmth, she considered that she ought to call and report in, and wondered if it was late enough yet for Kerp to be up and about. Her eyes slowly closed and the digital readout on the bedside clock changed to 3:34 in the afternoon.
    She plumbed the depths of slumber, remaining ensconced in that shadow land until well into Monday morning. The fitfulness of her sleep brought her to the edge of consciousness for a moment, and she reached for the telephone to make her call, thinking it was still Sunday morning. When she heard no dial tone, she assumed the phone was dead, having forgotten she'd unplugged it. She had her cell phone with her, but it was across the room in her purse and she didn't have the energy to get up.
    The room was pitch dark the next time she woke up, and she forced herself to rise out of the bed and get her phone, even though she was shivering with a chill. Kerp would kill her for waiting so long to call in. She turned on a light and shielded her eyes as she stumbled across the room to her purse. The low-battery light on the cell phone was flashing, and she cursed herself for not having the presence of mind to recharge it before she left.
    She got back into bed and covered herself up again before dialing. As she listened to the first ring, she craned her neck to look at the time, wondering if it could really be two in the morning. Kerp answered after the second ring.
    "Hello!" a voice demanded. It must be that late. He sounded pissed.
    "Kerp," she tried to say, but her voice sounded thin and spotty. She hadn't spoken in quite a while.
    "Mich? Mich!" At least he sounded glad to finally hear from her.
    "Got a problem here," she began to explain, trying to organize her scattered thoughts.
    Kerp had started to say something when her phone beeped and went dead. Shit, she cursed. Well, at least he knows I got here okay.
    She turned off the phone and slid it onto the nightstand mere seconds before sleep engulfed her again. Her fevered brain kept her consciousness from sinking into the deepest sleep where rest is found, instead holding her suspended in the wanton insanity of diseased nightmares where time drags sluggishly and endlessly on.

As the taxi drew nearer to the Montgomery Hotel, Kerp took out his phone and called the hotel security office. It rang a number of times, but his instructions were to let it do so and be patient. Finally someone picked up.
    "'Lo?"
    "This is federal Agent Louis Kerpalscheiker. Who am I speaking to, please?"
    "This' Bob Cooperman. What can I do f'r ya?"
    "I'm on my way in from the airport, and I was told I'd be expected by on-duty security."
    "Well, 'at's me. Dick of the Day," he chuckled, delighted with his wit. "Yer lucky you caught me. I'm normally out walkin' my rounds. Hardly ever in here. Did you say you was a federal Agent?"
    "Yes, sir. I am."
    "Oh yeah, I remember. Right. Federal Agent, huh? Well, where do you want me to meet you?"
    "I'll have the taxi drop me in front of the hotel."
    "Meet you there. How will I know you?"
    "I'll be the guy getting out of a taxi, wearing a dark suit, white shirt, dark tie, and sunglasses. You know — a federal Agent."
    "Okay, I gotcha," he said, and hung up.
    Kerp closed the phone and mumbled, "Nice talkin' to you, too — I'll see you later."

The elevator doors opened and Kerp followed Cooperman down the hall. "What's the room number again, there?" the dick asked.
    "It's 1522," Kerp said for the third time.
    "Fitt-teen twunny two," he echoed. He drew a huge cluster of keys on a long chain from his pocket, and jingled them in his hand irritatingly.
    Kerp watched the room numbers ascend as the two of them progressed, until finally they came to Michelle's room.
    Cooperman stopped and knocked on the door loudly. After waiting several seconds for an answer, he turned to Kerp and tilted his head back authoritatively, asking, "Now, you sure you a federal Agent?"
    Kerp took his sidearm out of its holster and chambered a round, answering, "Unlock the door, Bob."
    Cooperman unlocked the door immediately, then pushed it open and stood back.
    Holding his pistol at the ready, Kerp peered into the room, noting a human form in bed under the covers. After checking through the crack behind the door, he crept to the bathroom and looked in there. "All clear," he called, not knowing if Cooperman even knew what that meant.
    He put his gun away and strode quickly to the bed where the figure lay. It was Michelle, and she was alive! "Mich!" he said as he gently shook her. Her fever was so high he didn't have to feel her forehead to know she was burning up. He looked at the security officer and pleaded, "Can you get her a doctor?"
    "Yes, sir. I can have our doc-on-call up here in about 20 or 30 minutes."
    "Thank you. Please hurry!"
    Her eyes fluttered momentarily as she raised up slightly and tried to focus. "Kerp!" she exclaimed weakly. She began to cry and reached for him. He leaned over and hugged her at an awkward angle, holding her tightly in his arms and breathing a prayer of thanks.

While they waited for the doctor to arrive, Kerp gave Michelle some Tylenol and dabbed her brow with a damp washcloth to bring her fever down. About 45 minutes later, Kerp answered a knock at the door, and a woman introduced herself as Doctor Cheryl Rambert. He let her in and she sat on the side of Michelle's bed, setting her bag on the floor. After asking Mich a few preliminary questions, the doctor turned to Kerp and announced, "I need to ask you to leave the room while I have her undress."
    Before Kerp had a chance to obey, Michelle opened her eyes slightly and feebly uttered, "It's alright, he's my husband."
    "I don't mind stepping outside," Kerp told the doctor, surprised by Mich's statement.
    "Please stay." Michelle whispered.
    Though the doctor saw no sign of a wedding ring on either of them, she honored the patient's wish and nodded for Kerp to stay. She pulled the covers back to reveal Michelle's gigantic naked breasts lolling on the linen. Though surprised, the woman nevertheless maintained her professional demeanor and commented, "That's quite a case of hypertrophy. Sit up, please."
    Kerp looked at Mich's exposed boobs and was stunned. Her tits had swelled up to about half again the size they had been when he'd last seen her! He knew this swelling was too rapid and extreme to be a normal result of the bureau's enlargement regimen. It was far more likely that this was a rare phenomenon known to occur with a small percentage of women undergoing the growth stage of the process: a temporary complication usually brought on by a bad chest infection. A civilian doctor, however, would have no way of knowing this.
    Doctor Rambert examined her briefly, and then had her lie back down under the covers. As she made some notes to herself, she said, "Well, you'll be happy to know this has nothing to do with anthrax." Kerp heaved a sigh of relief. "This is a 48-hour bug that's been going around for about a month here. If I'd seen her earlier, I could have made her much more comfortable, but at this point the worst is over. I'll give her a shot of antibiotic, and then I want her to get some more rest. In the morning she should feel much better.
    The doctor gave Michelle a shot in her lovely derri�re, ordered her to sleep, and then left. Mich was snoring again within a minute. Kerp settled into a chair and watched TV with the sound off while she rested, drifting off a couple times himself.

"Just please look at my boobs, for pity's sake!"

In a few hours, she began to stir. Kerp was speaking on the phone as softly as he could so as not to wake her, but the sound of his voice drew her consciousness to the surface.
    "Kerp?" she called weakly.
    He hung up the phone and went over to her. "Hello there," he said sitting down beside her on the bed. "You sure had me scared."
    "Kerp, it's so good to see you. You really are here! I thought I'd dreamed it. C'mere, I wanna give you a big hug."
    He gladly went to her bedside and embraced her, saying, "I just now ordered some herbal tea. It'll make you feel better and put something in your stomach." Feeling the skin of her naked back caused his mind to begin to wander, so he eased her down onto the pillow again.
     "How long have you been here?" she asked.
    "A few hours."
    "Really? I'd been dreaming about you so much I couldn't be sure." Kerp nodded, savoring the fact that she'd dreamt of him. "Why does my right butt cheek hurt?"
    "Must be the shot."
    "You gave me a shot?"
    "No, a doctor was here."
    "Oh, yeah! I remember her now. What day is it?" she asked, coughing.
    "It's Tuesday the 18^th at exactly 8:47 in the evening," he read from his watch.
    "Really? Feels like I've been in here for weeks! Kerp, I was so sick..."
    "I know. You seem to feel a little better now."
    "I do. I've been delirious with this fever, too. I somehow became convinced that I was in the World Trade Center right before the attack! I was so afraid. And I also thought my boobs had swollen up super big."
    "Well, that part was real."
    Perplexed, she looked at him a moment as if he too might be a hallucination, and then she threw the covers back. She gasped as she saw the extreme size of her breasts.
    "Don't worry, Mich," Kerp assured her, looking away. "It's just a temporary swelling brought on by the infection in your lungs: the bacteria are interfering with the enlargement process. As long as the cells in your breasts are 'switched on' and undergoing mitosis, they're somewhat more sensitive to invasion by microscopic organisms, and for some reason those cells fill up with water, maybe as a defense of some kind. We're not sure. But your boobs should return to about the size they were."
    "The size they were when?"
    "Before you got sick."
    "Oh. Good. Hey! You're not looking!"
    "Huh?"
    "This is no time to be a darn gentleman, I need you to look at my tits with me."
    "Excuse me?"
    "Come on, Kerpalscheiker, if they're gonna be shrinking back down soon, then we need to get a good look at them while we can."
    "Uh, frankly, Michelle, you're probably a little delirious still, and it wouldn't be right if I took advantage of that."
     "I'm not delirious. Not any more than usual, anyway. I just want you to see them with me. It's okay; after all, you're my handler."
    "'Handler'? That's a CIA term — where'd you pick it up?"
    She shrugged. "Seems appropriate. It is what you do. That's why I told that doctor you were my handler."
    Kerp chuckled. "You told her I was your husband."
    Michelle paused. "Really?" she asked, smiling sheepishly with just a slight blush.
    "Yep."
    "Oh! Anyway, never mind that; just please look at my boobs, for pity's sake!" she pleaded. He reasoned he'd better, just to keep her calm.
    They had grown radically larger over the past two days. She was sitting up in the bed with the great bulk of her bloated mammaries resting on top of her thighs. She lifted them slightly and shifted their substantial weight back and forth from one hand to the other, watching them in fascination as she played. "They're so darn big!" she exclaimed exuberantly.
    Kerp stared at her in awe and wonder, silently agreeing. His penis was about to poke its head up out of the waist of his trousers for a look-see.
    Michelle lowered her enormously swollen bosom back down onto her thighs. "They've become so huge that they rest in my lap! See?" She patted the sides of her tumescent boobs and they quivered ponderously. "I have to check something out." She leaned over, her gigantic boobs wobbling heavily, and picked up her nightshirt from the bed covers. "I want to see how I look wearing a top with my tits this big," she announced, sounding like she was starting to feel better.
    Sometime during the last two days she had taken off her nightshirt in the heat of fever, and had tossed it to the foot of the bed. It was like a tee shirt, but made long so it came down to her knees (except in the front, where her fleshy bust lifted the hem to her thighs). She slipped her head and arms into the nightshirt, and pulled it down over her titanic breasts with some difficulty. There was a picture of Sylvester the Cat on the front of the garment, with his head now stretched out of proportion by the swell of her expansive bust. She stood up to look at herself in the mirror.
    He stepped to her side to steady her as she began reeling like a drunk. Her gigantic breasts swung around, bumping heavily into each other and once or twice into Kerp. "You okay?" he asked.
    "Uh, yeah. I guess I stood up too fast."
    "Uh-huh, you took a little vacation. Are you back now?"
    "I think so. You'd better not let go. Help me over to that mirror, please?"
    He escorted her across the room and watched her preen as she examined her reflection. Gathering the material of the nightgown that hung beneath her stupendous bosom, she clutched it close to her torso, as if it were all tucked in. "My hair looks like a fright wig. Would you be a sweetheart and hand me my jeans, please?" she asked him.
    He picked up the pants and gave them to her. It was a good thing he held on to her as she put them on, because in addition to being woozy from her illness, she also had a considerable amount of added weight up front that she wasn't used to. She pulled the jeans on and fastened them.
    "Look at that," she commented. "My tits are so big they hang down over my waist!" She turned from side to side, bumping into Kerp with the broad flank of her colossal bosom. "Excuse me, hon. It's hard to gauge how far they stick out." Cocking her head, she muttered, "I wonder what my bust measurement is now?"
    Kerp was mesmerized, unable to take his eyes away. I'd guess it's pretty close to a hundred inches. Upper 90's."
    Michelle knew that Kerp had a knack for guessing bust measurements, and that his estimate of her upper girth was likely to be pretty accurate. "My, my, my. These are some big boobies."
    She then proceeded to take off her nightshirt and jeans, and stood looking in the mirror wearing only her panties. She presented a riveting sight with her bombastic breasts hanging out naked before her. "My skin is really tight here," she observed, sliding her hands across the wide expanse of her bosom. The epidermis of her colossal breasts was indeed so taut it gleamed from the extreme and sudden expansion, looking as if it couldn't possibly contain another single cubic centimeter of additional flesh. They both stood transfixed by the sight of her mammoth bare tits, dreamily gazing at them in silent awe.
     "Kerp, are we crazy?"
    "Probably. What do you mean?"
    "Is it fanatical to be so obsessed by incredibly big boobs?"
    Kerp considered the question a moment and then answered, "It may be fanatical, but I don't think it's unreasonable."
    There was a knock at the door. He walked over and peeked through the peephole and saw it was room service with the tea. He was about to open the door when he saw that she was still standing there gawking at her bloated mammaries, so he motioned for her to hide in the bathroom.
    After the steward left, Kerp called Mich back out and made her sit down and drink some hot herbal tea. After consuming half a cup, she stood up and began looking in the mirror again, playing with her super enlarged breasts.
    Kerp looked up and saw her. "Now look — the doctor said you needed rest, so why don't you put your jammies back on and get some sleep?" he suggested strongly as he guided her toward the bed.
    "Okay, but I don't wanna wear jammies. It'll be too hot in bed," she whined.
    "Alright. But let's put them right here, in case you get chilly during the night."
    He tucked her into the bed and stroked her head tenderly. She smiled at him and commented, "You'll make a good daddy some day, Kerpalscheiker."
    He returned her smile, saying, "You go to sleep now. I'm gonna go check into my room, and I'll see you in the morning."
    As he headed toward the door, she called after him, "Kerp?"
    "Yeah?"
    "I — I'm afraid," she confessed, propping herself on an elbow. "It's silly, I know, and if I was with anybody but you, I'd put on a stiff upper lip and be the tough girl; but that fever made me feel like I've been alone and abandoned here for weeks. I don't want to spend another night like that. Please stay with me. I don't mean like that... you know. I just need you to be with me. I need to know you're here."
    "Oh. Well — uh, sure. I'll stay." What an odd feeling. It had been a long time since he'd been needed. Setting his suitcase back down, he went to the sofa and began unfolding the hideaway bed.
    "Kerp?"
    "Mmm?"
    "Not there. Here with me."
    He straightened up and looked at her questioningly. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on.
    "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be weird; I'm not asking for sex," she said, even though she'd have made love to him all night if he'd asked her.
    "Alright." After slipping off his shoes, he lay down beside her on top of the covers, and switched off the light. Michelle felt around until she found his hand. Giving it a squeeze, she whispered, "Thanks, Kerp. Have a good sleep." He squeezed back and their hands remained clasped as they fell asleep.

Lights bounced this way and that off the gleaming ceramic tile walls. The examination rooms had curtains instead of doors, and each room was the same, containing only two chairs. Kerp walked down the hall until he came to the one where Michelle sat waiting. He pulled the curtain aside, stepped in, and slid it back in place.
    She had on a white hospital gown that laced up the front instead of the back. Her immense tits jutted out toward him imposingly, creating wide horizontal wrinkles in the material stretched between them.
    He picked up the other chair, positioned it facing her, and sat down as she began undoing the ties that held her gown together.
    "You're gonna wear those?" she asked, nodding toward his hands. He looked and saw that he was wearing a pair of latex examination gloves.
    "I don't have to," he replied. "It's up to you."
    "Then, take them off please," she instructed as she loosened the final tie and let the gown fall open, exposing her shamelessly enormous boobs. They looked even bigger than the last time he'd seen her. "After all, you're my own personal handler," she said confidently, leaning toward him and thrusting out her spectacularly bosomed chest.
    Kerp tossed the gloves away. Placing his hands on her gigantic breasts, he squeezed them together firmly but gently, and began giving her a thorough mammary massage. His deep strokes continually reshaped her massive boobs, sending shudders and quakes through their heavy flesh. She sucked in air between her teeth, and with eyes shut, raised her face toward the ceiling in an expression of great pleasure.
    Her nipples started becoming erect, distending to a profound degree. Even when they were 'at ease' they were extremely full and prominent, but now they virtually popped out from her wide areolae, as thick as a mop handle and growing more proud by the second.
    Her immense, firm tits were wonderfully smooth and pleasing to his touch. Their volume was so unwieldy that now and then one would slip from his grasp and drop, bobbing and wiggling frantically until he scooped up its creamy weight once more. He wondered how he ever got such a great job.
    Michelle was moaning with delight as he worked diligently on her enormous boobs. "Kerp," she cooed, "you know just how to handle me!" It seemed her tremendous breasts were getting even bigger as he massaged them, which pleased her all the more. Putting her hands on top of Kerp's as he kneaded her expansive bosom, she slowly stood, leaning into his caresses. He saw her move one hand to her crotch, and at the same moment noticed that she wasn't wearing anything at all! She began fingering herself and her low moans turned to louder moans.
    He became aware that he too was naked, and that Michelle was fondling his engorged erection with her other hand. She moved closer and closer to him until, from his vantage point seated on the chair, he could not see her face anymore: only the undersides of her overwhelmingly huge breasts. She straddled him with her crotch against his chest, and slowly lowered herself onto his lap, guiding his penis inside her with her hands.
    Kerp's head was now between her breasts, and he clutched them against his face blissfully and kissed her soft skin. He had never felt such ecstasy before; they were such a perfect fit together! Michelle moved up and down his shaft lovingly, groaning with pleasure as she clasped his head into her gigantic bosom.

As the orgasm coursed through his body, he woke up startled and confused. He couldn't remember where he was or why, and he didn't know what was lying on top of him. Oh, right, I'm in a hotel room, he thought to himself as he looked around. And this is an enormous breast on top of me.
    He carefully slid his body over to the side, letting Mich's huge mammary roll off his chest and onto the mattress. He remembered the dream. Shit! he spat silently. At least I kept it inside my pants instead of all over the sheets. I'll go clean up while she's still asleep and she'll never know. He could imagine nothing more embarrassing than her finding out.
    The clock said it was 6:34, time to get up anyway. He crept out of the bed and gently covered Mich back up. Taking his suitcase into the bathroom, he removed his soiled clothes and put them in the laundry bag he always took along when he traveled. After he had showered and dressed, he decided to go check into the room reserved for him. As he was about to leave, he realized that he ought to tell Michelle so she wouldn't wake up and wonder where he was.
    "Mich," he whispered, shaking her slightly. Why am I whispering? he asked himself. "Mich!" he said a little louder.
    "Huh? she inquired through squinty eyes, raising her head.
    "I'm gonna check into my room. I'll be back in a few minutes."
    "Check into — okay."
    "How do you feel?"
    "Fine," she mumbled as she put her head back down. Half muffled by the pillow, she piped up, "Actually, I think I feel pretty good. Much better, in fact."
    "I think your swelling has gone down some."
    "Swelling? Oh, yeah. Has it? Okay. I think I'll get up and take a shower. I might even start to feel like a human being again." Saying this, she continued to lie there with her eyes closed, not moving a muscle. Suddenly she smiled and said, "Hey!"
    "'Hey' what?" he asked her inanimate form.
    "So how do you know the swelling's gone down, buster?"
    By her wide grin, he knew she didn't really mind, but he felt morally obligated to explain. "You were somewhat disheveled when I got up, so I covered you."
    "Ah," she said sleepily. So now I have little bitty titties?"
    "No, dear. I'll be back in about a half-hour. After your shower maybe we'll get breakfast, if you feel up to it."
    "Kay."
    He closed the door behind him and the room became silent again. Michelle tossed the covers back and sat up on the edge of the bed, looking down at her enormous boobs. They were no longer the same super-swollen ninety-some-odd inch tits that she'd been playing with just a few hours earlier. Yet, they were not the size they'd been before she'd gotten sick: the swelling had not completely subsided. It never would. Unbeknownst to Michelle, her enormous, still-growing breasts had been quick to permanently assimilate some of the swelling, and would remain the equivalent of a few cup sizes bigger than before. In spite of this, all she could see was their recent decrease in size.
    Flat as a darn board! she thought, gazing down at her immense bosom.
    She stood up and gingerly removed her panties. Holding them in her fingertips, she took them to her suitcase and put them in the laundry bag she always took along when she traveled.
    "Wow!" she sighed. "What a great dream!"

After a long, hot shower she felt like a new woman, and was humming a little tune as she dried off. Kerp heard the strains reverberating from the bathroom when he knocked on her door. She wrapped the towel around her torso and attempted to tuck it in at the front to hold it closed. Her immense tits, however, presented a greater volume than the towel was capable of covering, so she held it shut at the side and went to the peephole to see who was there.
    As she thought, it was Kerp, so she let him in, hiding behind the door and grasping the corners of the towel together. He carried a plate of bagels and cream cheese in one hand, and in the other were two Styrofoam cups of coffee, one balanced atop the other's lid.
    "Did you get checked in?" she asked, shutting the door after him.
    "All set. Like your outfit."
    "The towels here are too small to do the boob tuck," she explained. "Pardon me." She padded back into the bathroom and started dressing just out of sight through the open bathroom door.
    "Well, keep in mind your boobs are still a little swollen."
    "No, they're not."
    "I definitely think they are. They look that way to me."
    "They seem so small now, though!"
    Michelle was making little effort to protect her modesty, and Kerp caught a glimpse of her bare back and the bobbling sides of her enormous breasts. "Trust me, Mich; small they're not. You're easily a few inches bigger than you were before you got sick. You probably got used to seeing them the size they were last night, and now they look smaller in comparison. But you can't call your boobs small."
    "I guess you're right."
    "I am? You're agreeing with me?"
    "Yeah. Look at this." She came out of the bathroom wearing one of her form-fitting silk blouses, which had bosom bulging out at every gap and whose seams were ready to split. The garment was packed so full of Mich's huge tits that it could have been spray-painted on. Kerp wished he could take a picture as he watched the heavy jiggling and swaying within the tight blouse. "This fit me fine the last time I wore it: now my boobs are way too big for it."
    "Yep. Is that blouse adjustable?"
    "Nope. Custom fitted."
    "Too bad. Well, it had to happen sometime. Those things are gonna keep getting bigger and bigger until you take the final shots."
    Gazing down at her sprawling mammaries, she patted their quivering sides happily and whispered, "Yeah! You go, girls!"
    Kerp liked that. Checking his watch, he said, "We'd better get moving — we need to scope out this facility and come up with some kind of plan."
    "Okay, boss. Should I change my blouse, or do you want me to go looking like this?" she asked whimsically.
    "Yeah, right. Wait!" he interrupted himself. He leaned back in the chair and studied her tremendous bust. "Seriously, Mich. Wear it."
    "Why? Is this Tacky Day here at the Montgomery Hotel?"
    "Tacky is chic in Las Vegas."
    Cocking a curvaceous hip and folding her arms atop her bulging bosom, Mich stared at him blankly for a moment and then responded, "Assuming you're not pulling my leg again, I'll wear it like this if you really think it'll help."
    "Mich, Christmas is Tuesday. I don't think we have enough time for subtlety, and believe me, that blouse is a real attention-getter. Besides, when did I ever pull your leg in a situation like this?"
    "Beijing."
    "Well..."
    "Buenos Aires."
    "Okay."
    "Minsk."
    "Alright! But I'm absolutely serious now," he promised with raised hand.
    "Well, in that case, I guess I'm ready!" she announced, doing her best to straighten her blouse.
    "Good. Let's have some bagels and coffee first."

They wandered around all the public areas of the hotel, learning the layout. Mich's ultra-tight blouse, wrapped around her super-enlarged boobs, drew attention everywhere they went. At first, by-standers wondered if such an enormous pair of breasts could possibly be real; but then the unbrassiered animation and indisputable nipple evidence, combined with glimpses of wiggling flesh as seen through the yawning gaps between her buttons, dramatically testified to the authenticity of her startling bust.
    A young assistant manager named Carol gave them the grand tour of the hotel, showing them all the ins and outs of the building. A handsomely curvesome lass herself, she couldn't help but do a double take when she first saw Michelle, but she maintained her composure and was very helpful and polite. The young lady, in awe of Mich's astounding voluptuousness, took every opportunity to glance her way in an effort to comprehend the incredible size of the Agent's breasts. Buoyed by the excitement of working with a federal investigation and meeting a woman whose boobs were so much bigger than she'd ever imagined possible, Carol chattered non-stop.
    They learned that the area of highest traffic was the atrium, which encompassed the pool and spa area, an 'open air' cafe, and several retail shops. Many of the rooms overlooked the atrium as well, including the second floor security office. Its mirrored windows provided a clear view of a number of critical areas. They drew layout diagrams of various locations, and found out what times of day were busiest.
    After a brief lunch break, which consisted of coffee and sandwiches from a machine, they spent the early afternoon fast-forwarding through security tapes to see if they could recognize al-Madini. There were several individuals that might have been him, but the tapes were too grainy and blurred to make a positive identification. The work was so tedious and unproductive, Kerp decided they should quit early and let Mich rest.
    "Kerp," Michelle protested, "I'm fine."
    "You should go take a nice nap."
    "I don't want to take a nap! I've spent the better part of three days in that stupid bed, and I'm sick of it." A little inner voice urged her to agree, on the condition that he go to bed with her and give her numerous orgasms. "If I take a nap now, I'll be there until supper, and then after supper you'll probably send me right back there again for the night."
    "Must have been a hard couple of days you had."
    Mich stared at the floor. "Yeah. They were."
    "You could take a nap in my room. That'd be a break in the monotony of being in the same bed, at least. And I promise I..."
    "Good idea, I'll do that," she interrupted, cutting him off before he could assure her of his honorable intentions: she wasn't interested in those.
    They stopped by her room on the way so she could pick up something to wear during her nap besides the tight top she had on, and then they adjourned to Kerp's room. She nonchalantly started unbuttoning the silk blouse without making any provision for modesty except to turn her back partly toward him. Once she was free of the restrictive garment, she vigorously rubbed the skin of her huge tits to aid decompression.
    As Kerp tried his best not to watch her massage her gloriously abundant bosom, he mused, What does she think? That I'm made out of iron or something?
    Stroking herself sensually, Mich wondered, He's not even looking! Is he made out of iron or something?
    She changed into her nightshirt and crawled into Kerp's bed. She wished he'd slept in it the night before so she could smell him in the sheets, but she did draw comfort from the fact that it was his bed that he'd be sleeping in that night. Kerp closed the blinds to darken the room as much as possible and sat in a chair to peruse the Washington Post. Lying in bed on her side, she peeked at him through slitted eyes, watching him read for a while. Soon she drifted to sleep.
    In a few minutes she started snoring lightly, drawing Kerp's attention away from the paper. He needed a break from the news anyway. He studied her form lying there in his bed, admiring the various curves of her body under the covers: the way her waist sloped steeply upward to become her hip, the meandering topography of her shapely legs, and the swell of her mountainous bosom.
    She shifted around as she slept, unconsciously pushing the covers aside and maneuvering her enormous breasts into a more comfortable position within her nightshirt. They had been sort of stacked one on top of the other, but they now lay side by side. With the covers pulled back, only the thin cotton shirt hid her enormous sprawling boobs, which flowed bounteously from her chest with their ends hanging over the edge of the mattress. He wished he were an artist so he could draw a sketch of her sleeping form, so beautiful and sexy. He sat watching her for a long time, never tiring of the sight.

Mich opened her eyes that evening, feeling refreshed and rested. The first thing she saw was Kerp, watching her from the same chair he'd been in when she went to sleep.
    "Good morning, little sunshine," he greeted her.
    "Please don't tell me I slept all night through," she pleaded.
    "No, that's just something my mom used to say to me when I woke up. Actually, your timing is perfect. It's a little before 5:30, and I thought we'd go somewhere nice for dinner. If you want to."
    "Yeah, that sounds good," she said as she sat up and stretched, thrusting her protuberant bust forward imposingly. It really wasn't fair for a woman with tits that size to arch her back and inhale like that; not without some kind of warning, like when a truck backs up. "Where'd you have in mind?" she asked.
    "Well, I thought we might go downstairs to the Desert Room."
    "Yeah! That looked like a nice place when we walked through it this morning."
    "I read a review that had good things to say about it. Besides, if we eat in the hotel, we can charge it to our rooms as a business expense. How much time do you need to get ready?"
    "It's a dress-up kind of place, isn't it? I guess I'll need about an hour."
    Kerp stood and looked at his watch. "Okay. I'm gonna go to my room and change clothes, and I'll be back at around 6:30 or so."
    Running her fingers through her jumbled hair, she said, "Six-thirty. I'll be ready."

When Kerp returned to Michelle's room an hour later, she came to the door putting in an earring. "Come on in, I just need about five more minutes to finish fixing myself."
    "Wow!" he commented as she preceded him in. "You look so..." he searched for a word worthy of describing her, but unable to come up with one he settled for, "...totally beautiful!"
    "Thank you, sir!" she responded, delighted to receive his stammering compliment. "You look good yourself. Before you sit down, do me a favor and zip this dress up?" She turned her back to him and held her hair up out of harm's way.
    Kerp was eager to perform such a husbandly task. The dress was open nearly down to her butt, revealing her luscious bare skin underneath. He grasped the zipper and began pulling it up. Whenever he did this for her, seeing her naked back so close and handling the clothes she was wearing, he felt as if he were inhaling and exhaling her presence. It made him want to take her right then and there. He pulled the zipper about halfway up, where it began to bind due to the huge swell of her bosom.
    "The material at the bust of this dress is elasticized, so even though it wants to stick, just be firm with it and it'll zip up all the way," she advised.
    He wiggled the zipper a little as he tugged on it, and it finally began to move again, clearing the obstruction.
    "Thanks, hon," she said.
    The bureau-made dress she'd chosen was a dark blue skintight semi-formal that was hemmed about six inches above the knee, made of a fabric that produced shimmery highlights emphasizing the wondrous curves of her body. The elastic threads that were interwoven into the bodice served two purposes: to accommodate her continuing expansion, and to allow the dress to hug the contours of her huge breasts yet allow some latitude for a bit of bounce and jiggle. Though the garment's neckline was not low-cut, it nevertheless presented a riveting display of Michelle's profound endowment.
    As she stood brushing her hair in the mirror, the act sent exquisite shock waves rippling through her imposing bust. Kerp watched transfixed as her fleshy breasts shuddered deliciously.
    After Michelle finished getting ready, they left her room. The walk to the elevator was fascinating for Kerp to watch, as her enormous bosom bounded and quaked with each footstep. When it came to boob jiggling, Mich was a virtuoso. Every bounce and swing of her lavish bosom was the deliberate brush stroke of a gifted artist in complete control of her medium.
    They boarded the elevator after the customary wait for its arrival, and the car began descending. They were discussing their respective preferences for assuaging their appetites when the car stopped and two dark-complected, mustachioed men got on with them. Both ran their eyes up and down Michelle's body as they took their places. Though the agents maintained their outward composure, a powerful rush of adrenaline surged through both of them. Kerp was quietly reaching to unsnap his holster for readiness' sake when the men began speaking to each other in a foreign language. It didn't have the sound of a Middle Eastern dialect to Kerp's ear, and he looked at Mich to see if he could tell what she was thinking. Just then she hooked her arm through his and patted it with a grin.
    Kerp raised his eyebrows questioningly at her, and she subtly shook her head no. Then he realized that the language the men were conversing in was Spanish. While he snapped his holster back, wishing there was somewhere constructive for all that adrenaline to go, he noticed Mich was doing her best to discreetly stifle some sort of mirth. The men got off, and as the elevator doors were closing behind them, she called to them, "Caballeros, les aseguro que a pesar de su glorioso e impresionate talla, estos grandes pechos son naturales, me he encargado personalmete de que crezcan hasta este tama�o." The men stood looking at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the doors shut, after which Mich broke out in a hearty laugh.
    "Okay, Myers, what's the deal?" Kerp asked with a grin.
    "Well, I think you've figured out that those guys were Hispanic: Venezuelan or Colombian by their accents. Apparently they assumed that a couple of Anglo tourists like us wouldn't be the type que habla Espa�ol, and they had a very lively discussion about my big boobies." She had to get some giggles out before continuing. "One of them was convinced I've got water balloons stuffed inside my dress, but the other guy desperately didn't want to believe that. So I couldn't resist straightening them out."
    He chuckled. "What'd you tell them?"
    "I assured them that in spite of their glorious and improbable size, I personally grew these big breasts of mine entirely of my own flesh."
    "Yep," Kerp said, nodding appreciatively. "You made their day."
    The elevator exerted additional G-force on its occupants as it delivered them to their chosen floor, creating a lovely, heavy bobbling effect within Mich's bodice, and the doors opened directly onto the foyer of the Desert Room. The restaurant occupied its own entire floor of the hotel, one level below ground, and was strategically designed to overwhelm the senses with its grandeur. A smiling host and hostess team waited behind a lectern to greet them, but their timing was thrown off completely by the sight of Michelle's gigantic swaying bosom. After a brief exchange of glances, they nervously welcomed their guests and showed them to a table.
    It was a smallish round table, just a bit lower slung than normal, and tucked nicely away in a secluded corner. Kerp held Michelle's chair for her as she sat, and then he took his seat opposite her. After they had situated themselves, Kerp noticed that Mich had a subtle smirk on her face, and he studied it, trying to discern why. "What's up," he finally asked.
    "I don't usually have to tell you to do this, but — look at my boobs." They were resting entirely upon the surface of the small table, taking up most of its real estate.
    Kerp gazed down appreciatively at her enormous tits sprawling across the tabletop in front of him. "Cool! When our food comes," he asked, "can we just set our plates on top of them?"
    It struck them both funny, and Mich's breasts shook as she laughed. "I apologize, hon," she sighed, raising herself up in her chair and lifting her immense bust off the surface of the table.
    "For what?"
    "Being so crude."
    "No way! Listen, if this table is too small, we'll get a larger one."
    "No, I like this one. It's nice and ro — cozy. I can manage by sitting kind of side saddle like this," she explained, turning enough for her overhang to clear the edge of the table. Little hot pricklies ran up and down Kerp's spine as tried not to stare at her voluminous bosom.
    The waitress came, and after recovering from the shock, she took their drink order and left. Mich absently traced her finger on the tabletop. "I was wondering about something. You left the stub of your airline ticket in my room and I noticed you took an earlier flight than we'd planned. I'm not complaining, mind you, but how come?"
    "Oh. I never told you. Gee, uh — well, we received information Monday about a body in the Las Vegas morgue: no head or hands. The bureau was flagged because the deceased had extremely large breasts. When we learned this after not hearing from you for a couple of days, we assumed — um, we wondered if..." Kerp's voice cracked with emotion and he couldn't speak for a moment, hanging his head in embarrassment.
    "Oh no — you thought it was me!" She reached over and took his hand.
    He nodded, trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry."
    "Don't ever be sorry for showing me how you feel, Kerp." The strength of his feelings touched her deeply. "I would have been worried sick."
    They continued holding hands. "Anyway, after you called... Oh, by the way, what happened with that? We got cut off."
    "Yeah, my battery went dead. I forgot to charge it. Sorry."
    "Oh, okay. So we traced your call to this local cell. Your room was the first logical place to look, so I came out here on the next available flight."
    "I feel terrible that I let so much time go by without calling you!"
    "Don't. I know you would have gotten in touch if you could. You were pretty sick."
    "Yeah. But what about that body with the big breasts?"
    "Right. I called Hudson after I found you to let him know you were okay — well, alive anyway — and he told me that the victim had been identified as Amy Craighead."
    "Amy? Oh, no!" Mich felt terrible for having berated the woman behind her back after meeting her. "I'm so sorry, Kerp. Were you close to her?"
    "Not really. I mean, we knew each other well enough, dated a couple of times, but it was nothing."
    "Nothing? She seemed awfully friendly toward you when I met her."
    "I know," Kerp moaned, rolling his eyes. "She was always coming on to me — or at least it seemed like that. But then she did that with a lot of guys, so it didn't mean anything. I could never figure out if she liked to sleep around or if she was just a tease."
    "Did you ever sleep with her?"
    "No."
    Michelle silently approved. "But how'd Amy end up here in Las Vegas?"
    "She must have linked up with somebody in al-Madini's group down in Florida and then gone with them when they relocated to Vegas. She probably came voluntarily, because if they found out who she was, they'd kill her instead of bringing her along as a hostage."
    "Cause of death? I assume the mutilation was post mortem to hide her identity."
    He nodded. "The Medical Examiner said there was nothing internally or externally to indicate the cause of death, and he concluded Amy was most likely killed by a head wound of some kind."
    "Do you think they found out she was a federal Agent?" Mich asked.
    "Possibly. I don't know."
    "And if they did, do you think they might suspect me if I make contact? I mean, since we're both — big girls?"
    "I've been thinking about that a lot, and I'm hoping they won't make that connection. One thing the Bureau of Gigantic Bosoms has going for it is its own improbability. Our enemies aren't likely to suspect that we'd field a group of lady agents on the basis of extreme breast size. Still, we need to be very careful. You need to be very careful!" he said emphatically, wagging a finger at her. "Killing means nothing to these people. I thought I'd lost you a few days ago, and I don't ever want to go through that again."
    Kerp's intense concern for her safety made her feel warm and loved. "Well, you'd better be careful too, buddy boy. I'm not particularly keen on losing you either!"
    At the other end of the restaurant, two men sat eating together. One suddenly stopped chewing his mouthful and stared intently across the room. His companion noticed and followed the man's gaze, but couldn't determine what he was looking at.
    "What you see?" he said in a low voice.
    The other spoke a few words in Arabic through the food in his mouth, spraying grains of rice across the table.
    "English, Ahmed!" the man hissed.
    Ahmed quickly finished chewing, and then whispered, "Very big charms!"
    Hasan again looked to find the focus of Ahmed's attention, and finally noticed Michelle in the far corner booth. "Ah! Yes, very big." He took a cell phone out of his coat pocket and punched in a number. The conversation was brief and cryptic, and after he'd hung up, he said to Ahmed, "Watch her and tell me if she leave."
    Ahmed nodded. He didn't understand their commander's penchant for such out-of-proportion women, but the man was a hero of the Jihad. He deserved to have whatever he wanted.
    The waitress stopped at Mich and Kerp's table to see if they needed anything.
    "I think we're fine right now, thanks," Kerp told her. After the woman was out of earshot, he said to Michelle, "Now, if we're going to snag al-Madini, we'll have to get his attention big-time. So what's the sexiest outfit you brought with you?"
    "How about that real tight, low-cut... No! The bikini! Oh, it's perfect for this. You'll like it: it hardly covers anything, plus it has a surprise," she said with a grin.
    "What kind of surprise?"
    "You'll just have to wait and see." She dabbed her lips with her napkin and knitted her brow. "You know, we should have asked that waitress to bring us a couple glasses of wine."
    "Yeah, that'd be nice," he agreed, turning to see if she was still nearby. "Let me just get it from the bar instead of waiting for her to come back."
    He excused himself and made his way across the sea of tables. He motioned to the bartender for service, and the man responded by raising a finger to indicate he'd be with him in a minute. Kerp leaned against the bar, feeling like an extra in a cowboy movie.
    After a wait that wasn't quite as long as it felt, the bartender came up and took his order. Kerp watched as he uncorked the wine bottle, poured a small amount into a glass, and handed it to him for approval. Pretending as if he knew what he was doing, he swished it, sniffed it, tasted it, and then nodded his consent. As the bartender poured two glasses, Kerp noticed someone slipping into the seat beside him.
    "Good evening," a voice said.
    Kerp turned and responded, "Evening."
    "Is this first time you and your wife come to Las Vegas?" the man asked with a nod of his head toward Michelle at their table.
    Kerp chuckled. "Actually, my wife is back in Kansas City," he confessed, keeping his ring finger out of sight. "If she knew I was wining and dining some bimbo, she'd skin me alive."
    "Oh!" Hasan exclaimed jovially. "I see. Well, I must say, your date is very beautiful."
    Kerp nodded. "She's got a set of boulders on her, doesn't she? But I tell you, all the bitch is interested in is how much money I can spend on her. Frankly, I can't afford her."
    The bartender set the glasses in front of him, and with a nod to Hasan, Kerp returned to their table.
    "Bingo," he said, handing a glass to Mich before sitting. "You have caught the attention of a Middle Eastern gentleman I just met at the bar. I had to say nasty things about you, too — how you're nothing but a gold digger."
    "You cad," she said sweetly, raising her glass in salute.
    He touched his to hers and took a sip. His eyes searched among the many wall mirrors until he found one in which he could observe Hasan clandestinely. "He just left the bar, and it looks like he's going — yeah, he's sitting down at a table with another Arab-looking guy. They're talking and looking this way."
    "Good! It seems things are developing rather nicely."
    "That's probably what they're saying about you right now."
    "How do you want to proceed with this?"
    "If they are who we think they are, they'll probably follow you to find out where your room is," Kerp predicted. "Let's make sure they don't come knocking at your door tonight, and then we can approach them on our terms tomorrow."
    "Alright. How do we keep them away in the meantime?"
    "We'll pretend like we're going to your room for the night after we finish eating. That way they'll be less likely to try making a move on you."
    "Alright. We ought to do something other that just eat and then go to my room, shouldn't we?"
    "Ah, a little foreplay you mean?"
    "Absolutely."
    "Good idea. For the sake of safety, we ought to stay inside the hotel complex, so how about if we visit the casino for a couple hours and then go to your room," Kerp suggested.
    Mich agreed. They finished eating their meal in a leisurely manner, and lingered at their table for a while before paying the exorbitant bill and moving on to the casino. They mostly watched other people gamble, rather than lose too much money on the bureau's expense account. They wagered only enough to blend in with the crowd, because they both knew that the more money they lost, the more difficult it would be to convince Hudson that the expense was necessary.
    They stayed on the sidelines cheering on the real gamblers and keeping a discreet eye out for those who were watching them. Al-Madini's men were very good, staying out of sight most of the time, but Mich and Kerp were able to spot them often enough to keep track of them.
    Michelle's huge rollicking bosom was quite a hit at every gaming table they visited. At one of the crap tables, a rather inebriated lady, whose deeply cut dress displayed a generous portion of her own impressively large breasts, announced loudly and good-naturedly that she had been 'out-boobed'.
    As they played the role of a couple on a date, they freely made the kind of body contact that lovers make: holding hands, cuddling, linking arms. Kerp loved having his arm around Mich. With his hand on the side of her trim waist, he could feel the way its curvature flared out so sensually at her hip. Mich kept him as close to her as she possibly could, hip to hip and thigh to thigh, though it only made her want to devour him all the more. They inwardly rejoiced in this familiarity and made the most of the opportunity while it was available, each one assuming the other's conduct was more pragmatic than their own.
    The hour rapidly grew late, and this delightful opportunity to be so physical with one other proved to be as short-lived as it was welcome. Though their fellow revelers would likely continue partying for hours to come, Michelle and Kerp had important work to do the next day, and they needed their rest.
    They strolled out of the casino arm in arm and made their way to the elevators in the hotel lobby. As they waited for an upward bound car, Mich pretended to check her makeup, using the mirror of her compact to see if they were still being followed.
    "I don't see anybody, Kerp," she whispered. "I know we want to put them off until tomorrow, but I hope they haven't lost interest altogether!"
    He took a lingering deliberate look at her enormous boobs, and then raised his eyes to meet hers, saying, "I seriously doubt it, my dear."
    A bell sounded as the elevator arrived, and the doors opened for them. They stepped on and waited, discreetly checking around for anybody who might be following, but they saw no one before the doors closed again.
    On their way up, another couple about their own age got on. Both of them were athletic, attractive and well built. When they saw Michelle's outrageously bosomy figure, the undisguised looks on their faces bespoke their honest astonishment and fascination. Standing beside them as the elevator continued its ascent, they eyed Mich's enormous bust and exchanged glances with one another. After some unspoken agreement had apparently been reached between the man and woman, she turned and said, "I don't want to be rude, but would you guys by any chance be interested in a foursome tonight?"
    They smiled at the invitation and squeezed each other's hands. Mich answered, "That's really flattering, but I'm a one-man girl. I couldn't ever be with anybody but him. I'm sorry."
    "Yeah, I feel the same," Kerp agreed, even though he knew that if he'd been alone in that elevator, they wouldn't have looked at him twice. The bell rang, indicating they'd arrived at Mich's floor, and they exchanged good-byes with the other couple. A sign on the wall pointed the way to her room number, and they headed in that direction.
    They neither saw nor heard anyone behind them as they walked the long trek down the corridor, and Michelle became convinced that they weren't being pursued. As they rounded a corner, she stopped and pulled Kerp aside, into the recessed doorway of a utility room. "I don't think anyone's following us," she whispered in his ear. "Suppose our man doesn't find me attractive! How are we going to complete our assignment if he..."
    Kerp heard the faint but unmistakable sound of thick carpet being crushed by slow, careful footsteps. He knew if the footsteps were audible, then they were extremely close, and he cut Michelle off mid-sentence by grabbing her and placing his lips firmly over hers. Elated and giddy in that first half-second, she was about to close her eyes when she saw a man's shadow rise on the far wall, and she comprehended what Kerp was doing. Mich had been kissing him in earnest from the start, so when Hasan suddenly appeared, they were sucking plausibly deep face.
    Though the man was startled by their presence, he didn't allow it to show, but instead walked past them casually. As he continued down the hall, he cast an occasional furtive glance at the two lovers behind him.
    As Mich and Kerp kissed torridly, she hooked her leg around behind his knees and rubbed her groin against his. Their tongues wrestled furiously and their hands were all over each other. They did a very good job of convincing any onlookers of their sincerity.
    My goodness, he sure got hard fast, Mich marveled. She reveled in their subterfuge, savoring every moment. It was wonderful to have his body pressed against her, to feel his hands on her, even though they weren't being applied to the places she most wanted them. Their tight embrace pushed her massive breasts firmly into his chest, and she moved them around against him to reinforce that sensation for the benefit of both parties.
    Kerp felt a little uncomfortable about having such a raging erection jabbing his partner when they were supposed to be on company business, but he was helpless before the flood of sensations and urges that overwhelmed him. He was amazed at how natural it felt to kiss her, and how comfortably their bodies intertwined together. Mich's tremendous boobs assaulted him with their magnitude and mass, and his hands wanted to explore them fully as she pressed them against his chest.
    Both were disinclined to end the moment, but they were obligated by the pretense of it being only a ruse. By the time they did stop, the man had disappeared into the stairwell at the end of the corridor.
    With a nod, they resumed walking down the hall, at a somewhat quickened pace. When they came to her room, she unlocked it and they went inside. Kerp latched the deadbolt and kept his eye to the peephole for a while, as Mich went into the bathroom to remove her sopping underwear, closing the door behind her.
    She didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she threw her panties and pantyhose into the sink and ran water over them. Turning the fan on to vent the aroma of her passion to the desert sky, she sat on the edge of the tub and sighed deeply, shaking her head. What a bizarre situation to be in. Sometimes Kerp seemed to be as crazy about her as she was about him, but at other times he was a stone wall. She'd never wanted a man so badly, but this was the worst time for something to happen between them, if it was ever going to. They couldn't afford that kind of distraction when so many lives depended upon their ability to remain alert.
    Through the peephole, Kerp saw Hasan walk back by the door, stop, and jot down the room number before moving on. After watching the man leave, he stepped back from the door and ran both hands through his hair.
    The way he felt at that moment, he wondered if his erection would ever flag. He simply wanted to grab her, throw her onto the bed, and make love to her all night long, but he knew that would not do in any case. Their job performance would suffer grievously at this critical phase, with possibly fatal results. He moved to the bathroom door and knocked gently. "Michelle?"
    "I'll be out in a sec."
    "Listen, I think I'm going to go back to my room, now: our tail just wrote down your room number and I'm pretty sure he's gone."
    As if to bring herself closer to him, she put her cheek and the palm of one hand against the door and reluctantly answered, "Okay. Be careful. Hey — what's the plan for tomorrow?"
    "Go ahead and sleep late, Mich. I'll be back here at about ten in the morning, and we'll think things through then."
    "Alright. See you then."
    "Goodnight."
    They slept in the loneliest beds at the Montgomery Hotel that night, but not until they had each brought their unresolved personal business to an imperfect close.

After Kerp showed up at her door the next day, they ordered brunch from room service and relaxed until it arrived. Neither of them mentioned the intense make-out session they'd had the night before, but they both thought about it a lot.
    Soon a tray of toast, juice, coffee, and fruit was delivered, and Kerp was glad to see Mich virtually inhale the food after being so sick just the day before. Not a crumb was left on the tray when they were done — she even drank the little pitcher of half-and-half.
    As they sat sipping their coffee, they discussed how they should approach their task of making contact with the al-Qaeda cell, taking possession of the 'Egg' device, and if possible, apprehending or eliminating al-Madini. It seemed like an impossible task, but they had learned long ago to bite off one piece at a time when an assignment was that daunting. They decided to start by having Mich lure him into making the initial contact himself, and then she would try to win his confidence enough to be allowed to hang out with him and his circle of followers.
    "The Egg may be here in the hotel, or it may be in a rented locker at a bus station or the airport," Mich said, thinking out loud. "I hope you brought a big bag of luck with you inside that equipment case of yours."
    "Hey, dumb luck is the underlying principle behind my professional and personal success."
    "Kerp."
    "We just have to watch for a break to come our way and be ready when it does. What I do have in that equipment case is a wire, and I want you to wear it all the time during this operation.
    "Oh, that reminds me," Michelle said, standing up and opening her suitcase. "We were talking last night about what I should wear to attract al-Madini's attention, and I told you about the bikini I brought."
    "Right, I remember. You indicated it was the sexiest item of clothing you had on hand."
    She held up what looked more like a wad of string than a swimsuit, and said, "I think it is, but we need a man's opinion. Let me model it for you, and tell me what you think."
    Kerp wasn't about to argue with that. After she disappeared into the bathroom to change, he picked up the remote control and tuned in CNN Headline News to occupy himself while he waited.
    In a minute or two, Michelle came out of the bathroom wearing the bikini. It had been psychologically designed to emphasize the enormity of her breasts. The top was a lot of string attached to two triangles barely big enough to cover her areolae, and the bottom was a little thong that left no questions about her gorgeous fanny.
    "This is a special item the bureau made up for me," she explained, turning this way and that. "What do you think?"
    What he saw made it difficult to think rationally. Her side profile fully displayed the extraordinary degree to which her tits stuck out, an eyeful so seductive that it was almost painful to look at. Then, as if to add insult to injury, she struck an exaggerated pose that thrust her hugely bulbous chest out to an amazing extreme, like some fantasy porn queen. Kerp adjusted his pants. When she turned to exhibit the view from behind, he could see her immense bosom bulging well into view on both sides, with nothing of the bikini visible except for some string.
    Whenever she moved to a different position, Kerp watched Michelle's colossal boobs rocking and rolling heavily within the tiny top. Her wide areolae played peekaboo behind the bikini bra as her tremendous mammaries swayed back and forth. For display purposes, the swimsuit was made of a material that clung to her big nipples like a second skin. The woman could not have looked more erotic if she were stark naked.
    "So, is this bikini sexy enough to make the sale?" she said as she adjusted the straps, hoisting her immense bosom up a bit higher. She then placed a hand under each enormous breast and pushed them both up, letting them drop back into place.
    As he watched her in rapt fascination, he managed to reply, "Oh, our man's gonna buy, alright — but it ain't the bikini that's doin' the selling."
    "Ooo, that sounded like a compliment."
    "It was, and it's also the truth."
    She smiled at him with a loving look. "Thank you, sir! Oh — let me show you this!"
    She stepped toward him, leaning over as she grasped the bikini bra by the string between the cups. He wondered what the heck she was doing as he eyed her enormous dangling boobs. She walked right up to him, seeming to almost thrust her nearly naked breasts in his face. Up close like, that her huge tits looked even more enormous, and he felt the blood leave one of his heads and make its way to the other.
    "See this little clasp? It's actually a time-delayed explosive device."
    Kerp's face took on an expression of deep consternation, and he began shaking his head in protest. Explosive devices had no business being anywhere near those big wonderful breasts!
    "No — not a big explosion like a bomb," she said, straightening up. "It only makes a teeny little pop — just enough to make the two halves of the clasp fly off in different directions so my top comes off."
    "Oh! Well, that ought to liven up any party. Is there a purpose for that, besides good prurient fun?"
    "It'll provide a momentary distraction."
    "Momentary?"
    "Hopefully enough time to gain some advantage in a tight spot. It's activated by a switch concealed inside the strap behind my neck. I pretend to scratch my neck like this, and then in a few seconds..."
    She paused, raised her arms, and soon there was more of a click than a pop. Her top suddenly flew open, exposing her magnificent tits. In spite of the fact that Kerp was expecting it, he was still stunned by the event, and sat gazing helplessly at her immense bare breasts as they bobbled from the sudden lack of restraint.
    "See? It works," she announced, proud of the effect it'd had on her partner. With her boobs still hanging out and wiggling furiously, she walked across the room toward her travel bag. "Let me replace the charge now so I don't forget." As she bent over the bag to find a new explosive pellet, Kerp watched her enormous boobs from behind as they danced and frolicked heavily.
    She located the small plastic box containing the tiny charges, opened it and picked one up. It was encased in a thin ceramic coating and was about the size of a grain of rice. The little pellets were easy to break and she had to handle them carefully. She tapped on the casing of the bikini's 'clasp' to remove any residue from the previous charge, slipped the fresh one into the cavity, and clicked it shut. Still leaning over, she slipped the miniscule bra over her giant boobs and gave them a good shaking for placement. Then she straightened up and hefted each one individually so it dropped comfortably into position.
    Kerp needed a distraction from this boob opera, so he got up and opened his equipment case, saying, "I guess the next item on the agenda is to get you wired up." He took out a tangle of wires and tried to organize it into the semblance of a communication device. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing. "Wait a minute. How are we going to do this?"
    "Huh?"
    "You can't wear this wire when you've only got that little thing on," he whined, motioning to her miniscule attire. "There's nowhere to hide it."
    "Oh! No, don't use that one. I've got another one that was made to be used with this bikini," she said, rummaging through her travel bag. She pulled out a plastic sandwich bag that contained some sort of technology, but nothing that looked capable of two-way communication. She emptied the contents of the bag onto a table and picked up a small rectangle of silvery material, from which a short wire hung. "This is the microphone. It gets taped directly onto my breast under the bikini top."
    "But the bad guys will see it if your top comes off."
    Mich patted his cheek briskly and admonished, "Well, we won't let him get that far, will we?"
    "What if you have to use that exploding bikini top thing?"
    "By that point, the jig is up anyway. Now this, of course, goes in my ear," she explained, putting the mic down and pointing to a conventional-looking ear piece, "and this is the transmitter." She picked up a black plastic capsule about the size of a man's finger, and having two thin wires hanging from one end. "I call this a 'tampon module', because, um," she paused and chuckled, "well, it goes into my vagina."
    "It does, does it?" Kerp uttered soberly.
    "Yes, indeed. It was the only place to hide something this size. Well, not the only place, but it was my preference of the two."
    "Is it sanitary?"
    She motioned to a packaged condom lying on the table with her little collection of communication hardware. "That's what the rubber is for. The module goes inside that before it goes inside me."
    "What about the wires? You can't hide wires on your body when you're wearing almost nothing, so how do these little components talk to each other?"
    "No wires. The signal actually uses the conductivity of human skin."
    "Wow! No shit?"
    "No shit."
    "So how does it talk to me at the master unit?"
    "This wire from the 'tampon module' is taped to the skin of my abdomen, concealed behind the bikini's crotch piece. It reads the signal from the boob mic, and the other wire is an antenna for communication with the master unit."
    "Girlfriend, don't you dare give me a hard time about my 'spy toys' ever again!"
    "Pretty cool, huh?"
    "Yep, as long as it works. Go in the bathroom and put it on — let's make sure. Then we'll go down to the security office and set up the master console."
    She came out a few minutes later, and Kerp inspected her closely to be sure none of the device was visible: a delightful task. Then, after a quick test to prove its functionality, Kerp picked up the case containing the master unit and they headed down to the hotel security office on the second floor.
    The office was not being used that afternoon, but Carol had given them a key. They left the lights off so they would remain unseen behind the mirrored windows that overlooked the atrium. Kerp scooted a table over to the window and set the case on it so he'd be able to work there and see Michelle once she was in place. After extending the antenna and powering the unit up, he put the headset on and said, "Give me a check again before you leave."
    "Hello, talkin' to the tit," she spoke into the mic.
    "Loud and clear. Okay, go ahead and strut your stuff on down to the pool area and pick out a nice conspicuous spot — someplace where I can see you. I'll give you a call on your wire in a couple minutes. And please be careful!" he added sternly.
    "Yes, sir."
    "Wait — we need a code word in case you get into trouble. Umm..."
    "Okay; something harmless. How about — lemonade?"
    "Lemonade? Alright. If I hear you say that, I'll come a-running."
    "Well, here goes."
    With a towel over her arm, a book in one hand and a can of Pepsi in the other, Michelle bobbled out of the room and headed for the elevator in her tiny government-issue bikini. Even if she hadn't had such an extraordinary figure, she still would have attracted attention walking through the halls of a crowded luxury hotel wearing such a microscopic swimsuit, but with boobs bigger than basketballs, she caused mouths to drop open all along the way.
    The elevator doors opened onto the lobby, and as she walked across the atrium toward the pool, her huge breasts bounced and wobbled grandly. Every eye followed her in awestruck disbelief. She put her book and drink down beside a full-length reclining lawn chair that was in a prominent location, and spread her towel out on it. As her immense tits hung dancing merrily, one of them wiggled free of the bra, and she pretended at length to have trouble wrestling it back inside. She appeared as if she was trying to be discreet about fixing herself, but it was all deliberately designed to draw the stares of onlookers, particularly those of al-Madini's group. After finally getting her exposed boob all tucked away, she finished by hefting up her huge bosom from beneath and letting it fall back into place. Her massive breasts shuddered impressively.
    As she reclined in the chair and held her paperback up high enough to be able to read it over her mountainous breasts, Kerp's voice crackled in her ear. "Mich, do you copy?"
    "Sure do, sweetie," she quietly responded into the hidden mic. Gazing down at her tremendous breasts lolling on her belly, barely covered by the brief bikini top, she commented, "My boobs have gotten so humongous now, they're like two big udders."
    "Ten-four," Kerp answered with an appreciative smile.
    "Have they gotten too big, Kerp?"
    "Uh, that's a negative. You're doin' just fine, Agent Myers: right on schedule."
    "That sounds like a company opinion to me. What's your own personal feeling? Have I turned into a freak?"
    "Negative again, there. The bigger they get, the prettier they are, my dear."
    Michelle felt something relax within her. "Ten-four."
    After several minutes of uneventful waiting, Michelle radioed, "I see three Arab-looking guys standing near the elevator doors across from the front desk."
    "Is one of them our boy?"
    "Can't tell. They all look the same from this distance: unpleasant swarthy faces with big mustaches. Eenie, meenie, al-Madini."
    "I see them." Kerp brought the binoculars to his eyes and reacquired them. "Alright, let's find out if any of you boys are on our list," he muttered. He studied their faces momentarily, comparing them to a hot sheet of terrorist mug shots. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There were plausible matches for all three, and one of them was Yazid al-Madini! "I think it's them! Stand up, Mich. Stretch — or do some jumping jacks — try to get their attention."
    She got up from the lawn chair and bent over it, pretending to make an adjustment, while her immense tits dangled down within the bikini top, jostling heavily as she moved. After devoting as much time to that as was reasonable, she straightened up again and walked across the pool area toward a trash receptacle, sipping the last of her Pepsi before throwing the can away. Her stride was designed to cause maximum jiggle up front, a technique perfected as a young teenager discovering the power of an unusually large pair of breasts.
    "That's got 'em," Kerp announced excitedly in her earpiece. "One of them saw you and now they're all looking. Stay cool, babe." When he called her that, she suddenly started becoming aroused. She strode back to her chair and settled in, hoping the moisture would not interfere with the operation of the wire.
    A minute or two later, a voice said, "Pardon me, Miss?"
    Michelle turned from her book and looked up at him coolly. "Yes?"
    "Do you have the correct time?" he gargled. "I have lose my Rolex watch."
    "Aw, that's too bad! I hope it turns up. Well, I'm not wearing a watch at the moment myself, but that big clock on the wall over there says it's 4:35."
    "Ah, yes. Thank you," he said, looking at her enormous tits. They were trying to roll to either side of her reclining body, but were restrained by the industrial-strength bikini top. Aware of his gaze, Michelle turned slightly in the chair so her far boob rolled over heavily on top of the other, sending lovely shudders rippling through both.
    "You're not from around here, are you?" she asked with her warmest smile.
    Watching through his binoculars, Kerp felt a jealous heat rise in him as Mich turned on the charm. As the feeling crossed the threshold of his awareness, he quickly set the issue aside and refocused his concentration on the drama unfolding below.
    "I am from Spain, here on vacation."
    "Oh!" Michelle exclaimed. "�Cuanto tiempo estar� de vacaciones aqu� en Am�rica?"
    With only a trace of hesitation, he answered, "Gracias, but I prefer to use English. I must work on it always to speak better."
    "Certainly, Se�or. I hope you have a good visit in our country." She slipped her thumb under a shoulder strap as if to adjust it, hoisting one of her huge breasts high on her chest and creating a wide sweeping arc of deep cleavage.
    Kerp trained his binoculars on the incredible bumping and rolling of Michelle's massive boobs, thinking, Good grief, that woman is sexy! She's got everything and knows how to use it. Lord have mercy on poor me. If old Yazid is half as hard as I am right now, we've got him in the bag!
    "My name is Juan Vasquez. And you are?"
    "Lydia Martin. Pleased to meet you."
    "And also to meet you," the man said. "I am wondering, would you like to dine with me tonight?"
    "Well, that's very sweet of you! Yes, I'd love to. When and where shall we meet?"
    "My dinner is being prepared exactly now, to be served to me in my penthouse suite in not many minutes — about five o'clock. Come with me now and we have appetizer," he said, offering her his hand.
    Kerp keyed his mic and whispered, "Don't do it, Mich. Too dangerous."
    "Well, as you can see, I'm hardly dressed for dinner, Se�or Vasquez," she replied coyly.
    "The penthouse has many fine bathrobes of the hotel. You may wear one at dinner and keep it after. Do not fear to be alone with me, Miss Martin. I have five, em, employees — who will be nearby at all times."
    "My! What is it you do for a living, Se�or Vasquez?"
    "I am importer and exporter of goods."
    "I see. Well, I don't see how I can resist such an invitation," she said, surreptitiously addressing the remark more to Kerp than al-Madini. "I'd be happy to go with you, sir."
    Kerp's heart fluttered as he watched him help her to her feet. Speaking quietly into the microphone, he said, "You be careful! I'll try to stay close by."
    He set aside the binoculars and lifted the master transceiver out of the equipment case. It would be far less conspicuous to simply carry the unit by itself without the case, and it would be lighter as well. It was about the size of a hardbound novel, and could be easily concealed in a shopping bag. There was a bag of recently purchased electronics parts on the desk, and he took the liberty of emptying it out. He'd made a point to charge the unit's battery before leaving, so when he removed the power cord, communication continued uninterrupted. After cramming the transceiver and microphone into the bag, he telescoped the antenna down until it no longer protruded out of it. Mich's signal became faint and peppered with static, but that would improve if he could get closer to her, or if he could find a place to raise the antenna discreetly.

Michelle stepped onto the elevator with al-Madini, and two other men fell in behind them with a rather military flair. It made her a little more nervous than she already was. Al-Madini inserted a key into a lock on the control panel marked 'Penthouse', and turned it. As the elevator began its ascent, her enormous bosom dipped under the extra g-force, and then bobbled gravidly. Al-Madini and his compatriots took note.

Kerp hustled across the floor of the atrium toward the row of elevator doors. Glancing over at the front desk, he spotted a young woman working at a computer, and recognized her as the assistant manager that had been with them the previous day. Though he wanted to run, he forced himself to keep his pace to a hurried walk, so he wouldn't attract attention to himself.
    "Carol!" he called to her as he reached the counter.
    She looked up and recognized him. "Agent, uh...
    "Kerpalscheiker. Call me Kerp, but leave out the 'Agent' part right now, okay? I've got a situation."
    "A situation? Is there any danger to the people here in the hotel?"
    "Only for Miss Myers at the moment."
    "Yes. Miss Myers," she said thoughtfully.
    "Do you have a passkey you can lend me for a while?"
    "Well, I do have one, but I'm not supposed to give it to anybody."
    "Consider this an emergency, then."
    "Even so, I can't just lend it out!"
    "Carol," he pleaded, "I'm a federal Agent — you saw our credentials. The man we're after is staying in the penthouse of this hotel. He's very dangerous. My partner is with him as we speak, and I need to have free access to every part of this building if I'm going to keep her safe. This man is an al-Qaeda terrorist who may even get his orders from Bin Laden himself. He was involved in the attack on September eleventh. He was even supposed to be on one of the planes that crashed into the World Trade Center, but he got called away on some other nasty business that he's working on right now!"
    Carol took the key off a hook, walked over to him and set it on the counter in front of him, saying, "Too bad he missed his flight."

The elevator doors opened onto the opulent Presidential Suite of the Montgomery Hotel, revealing two men who were reaching for their weapons. They stood down as soon as they saw al-Madini; Michelle pretended not to notice. The men ogled Mich's extravagantly busty form as she entered the luxurious quarters wearing only her scanty bikini.
    "This is absolutely gorgeous," she gushed, admiring her surroundings.
    "Yes. Bring this lady a robe." A man jumped to obey. "Our dinner will be here in a few minutes. You would like some appetizer? We have sticks of fried cheese on the table, you see them there; also Buffalo wings. Or if you wish something else, I will order from room service."
    "That won't be necessary, thank you — what you have here will be just fine."
    The man emerged with a thick white terrycloth bathrobe with a monogram of the Montgomery Hotel on the front. Al-Madini took it and held it up for her to put on as if it were a mink coat. Mich slipped her arms into the sleeves and wore it hanging open so it wouldn't obscure her goods.
    "Please, sit," he said, motioning to a stuffed chair.
    She sat down as appropriately as she could, while still letting her tremendous bosom jiggle from the impact, and conspicuously crossed her long shapely legs.

Kerp took the elevator up to the floor just below the penthouse, and snooped around until he found a stairway leading upward. He unlocked it with the passkey and quietly climbed the stairs. The signal from Mich's listening device had returned as soon as Kerp had left the shielding of the elevator, and now grew stronger with each step he took. He extended the antenna to full length again. At the top of the stairway was a small landing with another locked door, and Kerp stood looking at it, trying to decide what to do next. Since he was now on the penthouse level, he didn't want to open the door without knowing what was on the other side, so he took off his headset, pressed his ear to it and listened. He heard nothing. Then he knelt down and tried peering under the door. He didn't see anything, but the cold air blowing against his face through the gap smelled and felt like outside air.
    He stood up, and as quietly as he could, slipped the passkey into the knob and unlocked the door. As soon as he cracked it open, however, the greater pressure on the other side of the door created a loud whistling wind that threatened to give away his presence. Kerp was sure enough about what was beyond the door that he took a chance and jerked it wide open to stop the howling.
    What he saw was not exactly what he expected: instead of a graveled utility area, he found a long, narrow, tiled walkway with a blank exterior wall on one side and fifty stories of sky on the other, guarded by a steel railing. He realized he was on a balcony belonging to the penthouse suite: al-Madini's headquarters.
    Blundering into it could have been good luck or it could have been bad, depending upon how you chose to look at it, and upon how things turned out. Kerp tried to ignore the irritating fact that things rarely turned out well for the enemies of Yazid al-Madini.

"I do some modeling," Mich explained between bites of chicken wing, "but other than that I don't really work. But I always seem to make ends meet. With a figure like mine, there's always an opportunity opening up."
    "Indeed," al-Madini agreed. One of the men tentatively gestured to get his attention. "Ah, yes," he said, looking at the man. "My friend, eh, Manuel has a question he would like to ask you."
    "Go ahead, dear; I'm all ears." For a moment, they pondered the fact that she was not.
    "I am curious," Abdullah began. "These wings of the buffalo — how is this? Buffalo is cattle, no? Cattle not have wings!"
    Mich smiled, trying not to laugh. "Buffalo wings are named after the city of Buffalo, New York, where that method of preparing chicken wings was invented."
    "Ahh! Chicken!" he exclaimed. He then said a few syllables to one of the others in a language that was not Spanish.
    "Manuel!" al-Madini barked. As Abdullah's smile quickly faded, his commander continued in a more subdued tone, "Take my suit to be cleaned. Now." The man disappeared.
    Hasan turned the television on and punched in CNN. He pointed to the TV and explained, "Five o'clock. Wolf Blitzer."
    There was a loud buzz from the foyer, and al-Madini's huge bodyguard walked across the sitting room and pressed a black button. "Yes?" he spoke into a speaker.
    "Room service," a tinny voice answered.
    Al-Madini waved and the big man pressed another button that opened the elevator doors. Two stewards wheeled in carts heavily laden with food. They were directed to the sitting room, and they pushed their burdens in, coming to a stop where Michelle reclined with her enormous tits apparently ready to burst out of her tiny bikini. The first steward didn't see her until he was right in front of her, and was dramatically taken aback. The other steward then noticed her and nearly gave voice to his wonder. Neither one was able to regain his composure until they were dismissed without a tip. They trudged back into the elevator, and Mich saw the eat-shit-and-die looks on their faces as the doors closed.
    Al-Madini served himself and then motioned for Michelle to do the same. As she filled her plate, the others descended on the food carts like vultures. She spread a napkin on her lap just to be genteel, fully aware that it would never serve its purpose, protected from spillage by her huge overhanging bosom.
    The room was silent except for the voices from the television. All conversation had stopped as the men lounged on various pieces of furniture, feeding themselves and staring at the screen. Michelle watched as well, but kept one eye on al-Madini as she ate.
    A voice in her ear spoke softly, "I'm right outside on the balcony, Mich. Not sure where in relation to you, but I'm close enough to hear muffled voices inside without my headset. If you're okay, clear your throat." Swallowing a mouthful of chicken, however, she was not immediately able to reply.

Kerp sat on the floor of the balcony next to the door, with his back against the exterior wall of the building, listening for her answer among the brief snippets of conversation. Panic began to rise inside him when she didn't respond right away, but soon she cleared her throat for him.
    He was over 500 feet in the air on a December evening in the desert, and it was cold. As the last remnants of daylight painted pink and purple swaths across the horizon, he hugged his knees against his chest to conserve body heat, wondering how long he'd have to stay there and whether he could take it. He could always duck back inside the door to get out of the cold, but it was not much warmer in there than where he was. Besides, in spite of any discomfort, he preferred to stay out on the balcony so he'd be as close to Mich as possible in case of trouble.
    At least the TV was tuned in to something decent, and he was thankful for that. The time would pass much faster if his mind was occupied. As he listened to CNN reporting on the struggle against worldwide terrorism, the incongruous notion suddenly struck him that his audio signal was originating from one of Michelle's big, beautiful breasts, transmitted along the skin of her torso, and then broadcast to him from inside her vagina. It was a stimulating thought.

Michelle looked around at the men she was dining with. How odd to be listening to news of recent military actions against al-Qaeda and the remnants of the Taliban, while sitting peacefully amongst those very enemies. She didn't know how long that peace might last.
    She wondered if the Egg was there in the suite, and if so, where it was hidden. There appeared to be a wing on either side of the spacious main sitting room, each having an unknown number of bedrooms, but she couldn't tell much more than that from where she sat.
    "Se�or Vasquez?"
    Al-Madini didn't look up from the television.
    "Excuse me, Se�or Vasquez?" she said a little louder.
    He realized he was being addressed, and grunted as he chewed, "Mm?"
    "May I use your bathroom, please?"
    He slapped the shoulder of his bodyguard sitting next to him and barked, "Show her a bathroom."
    The man rose without even a glance at Mich and began walking away. She got up and followed him out of the room and down a hall, where he opened the bathroom door and entered. She came in to see him standing in the middle of the large room, gesturing toward the commode.
    "Thank you," she said, intending to dismiss him, but he didn't get the message. Michelle dropped the smile from her face and asserted flatly, "I can handle it from here, thank you. Please go now."
    The dull expression on his face didn't change as he walked out.

"Kerp, can you hear me?" her voice whispered in his ear.
    His microphone was still in the paper bag, and he scrambled to pull it out. "Ten-four," he finally said. "I can hear you, but there's some sort of noise in the transmission."
    "That might be the vent fan. I'm in the bathroom, and I just turned it on."
    "Good idea. It wouldn't do for them to hear you carrying on half a conversation in there."
    "Well, yeah..."
    "But I've got some other noise here — a higher frequency thing."
    "How about now? Is it gone?"
    "Yeah, that was it. How'd you fix it?"
    "It was me peeing. I just finished." She smiled when she heard him quietly laughing. "Kerp, I have to ask a favor of you."
    "Sure. What is it?"
    "I have to poop and I'm embarrassed for you to listen," she explained, close to laughter herself. "Would you mind taking off your headphone for a few minutes?"
    "So, you think it might be a loud one, huh?" he teased.
    "Kerp, please?"
    "Sure, hon. I'll check back in after — what, five minutes?"
    "Give me ten."
    "Back in ten. Headset off."
    He stood and went back inside to get warm while Mich was busy.

After she had finished, she tried raising him before shutting off the fan and leaving the bathroom, but there was no response. She stepped back out into the hall, taking a quick inventory of the layout of that wing before returning to the main room.
    As she resumed eating, the news broadcast was reporting a story about one of the leaders of the Northern Alliance, a hero in fighting against the Taliban, being assassinated within the last few hours. Everyone in the room except Michelle and al-Madini cheered at this news.
    Mich froze. They had just given themselves away and she needed to figure out how to handle it. She calmly turned to al-Madini to ask him what the news story was about, and was surprised to see him pointing a 9mm semi-automatic pistol at her.
    "Is this a robbery?" Mich asked, playing dumb about their blunder.
    He didn't answer her, but turned to his bodyguard and spoke to him in Arabic.
    "Y'know, I could really use a glass of lemonade about now," she commented.
    The bodyguard got up, grabbed Mich by the upper arm and dragged her away forcibly — or so she allowed it to seem. She protested loudly but did nothing to escape the man's hold on her. He hauled her into one of the bedrooms and flung her onto the bed so hard her tits popped out of her bikini top. She turned away from him as if in modesty, but she was much more interested in keeping the silver patch on her boob hidden. Pointing at her, the man growled with a thick accent, "Stay here in room," and left.
    She fixed her top back, hoping he hadn't noticed the wire. "Kerp?" she whispered. "Kerp!" There was no answer.

Kerp zipped up and flushed the urinal with a new outlook on life. While giving Mich a little private time, he had realized he ought to pee too while he had the chance, and so left the stairwell on a quest to find a convenient restroom. As it turned out, the nearest public facility was in the lobby, however, requiring him to ride the elevator all the way down, stopping at every other floor to let people on and off.
    Relieved, he now faced the return trip all the way up to the top again. He looked at his watch while waiting for the elevator to arrive. He was giving her a little more than the ten minutes she'd asked for, but that couldn't be helped at this point. A bell rang and the elevator doors parted, allowing a carload to get off. When the car had emptied, he clutched his paper bag full of communication gear and followed a family of four inside.

Mich was making the most of her time by silently going through the room from top to bottom, looking for the Egg. She knew it wasn't likely to be there, but she had to make sure. Searching gave her something to do, anyway. The dresser drawers proved to be full of only innocuous personal items, as was the suitcase beside the bed.
    She searched the closet, patting down the few hanging garments on the off chance of finding a weapon, and then took a moment to stand on her toes to peek at the overhead shelf. She saw only some sweaters at first, but when she noticed a shopping bag tucked behind them, a light suddenly came on in her head as she recalled what the diner waitresses had said about seeing the men carrying such a bag. She couldn't quite reach it, so she hopped and grabbed until she managed to catch a corner of it. It was from a sporting goods outlet, as both witnesses had described.
    Mich opened it, but was disappointed to find it was only a football. No, something told her. What was wrong? She took the football out of the bag, and though she had never held one before, common sense told her it shouldn't be so heavy. Guys threw those things hundreds of feet, and this one weighed far too much for that.
    She turned the ball around in her hands, inspecting its surface, and noticed a long split in a seam. Upon prying the seam apart slightly with her fingernails, she spied something hidden inside it. She pulled the split open wider and saw an elliptical object within, painted olive green and lettered with bold yellow warnings and instructions. It had to be the Egg!
    Her moment of exhilaration turned instantly to fear when she heard the doorknob click. She hurriedly laid the ball and shopping bag on the closet floor and shut the doors, sitting on the edge of the bed just before an evil, grinning face appeared. It was the man who'd thrown her in there, the one she now mentally referred to as Grizzly: al-Madini's bodyguard. Shutting the door behind him, he slowly announced, "Full body cavity search."

Kerp hiked down the long hall toward the access stairwell rattling the paper bag under his arm. He reached inside it, fished out the headset, and put it on just in time to hear a man's voice say, "Full body cavity search." He quickened his pace, desperately wondering if it was possible for those words to be spoken in a situation that was not threatening to Michelle. It didn't seem so. He could hear over his headset that the wire was still working, but nothing had been said since that alarming phrase. Kerp was afraid to open his mic and speak to her for fear of it being heard by her captors.
    He arrived at the stairway door and fumbled with the passkey until he dropped it. Cursing himself, he picked it up, jammed it into the doorknob, and unlocked it. He took the stairs two at a time and upon reaching the top, unlocked the outside door and yanked it open. No one was in sight.
    He took out his sidearm and crept slowly forward along the walkway, until the wall against his back met a full-length picture window. It was now dark enough outside to render him invisible through the glass from within the well-lit apartment. He peered around the edge of the wall and could see through the gauzy drapes into the interior, where Yazid al-Madini and three other men sat, still watching TV and eating. He did not see Mich.
    Suddenly, a heavy bump sent vibrations through the concrete slab underlying the floor: just the kind of sound of a human body makes, falling hard. All four men turned and looked in the same direction when they heard the sound, and then smiled at each other malignantly.

Grizzly approached her with a lecherous confidence that was unnerving. Nevertheless, Michelle kept her wits about her. If this goon strip-searched her, he'd find the wire and she'd be dead; but if she was able to kick the man's ass, then al-Madini would suspect she was a professional, and she'd be just as dead. Then there was the possibility that she was dead in any case.
    He moved toward her to grab her super-stuffed bikini top, but she smacked his big hand aside at the last second. The man was confounded. He had never encountered such behavior from a woman before. This one would have to be taught a lesson in respect. He closed in again, this time meaning to seize her around the throat, only to have his arms knocked away by movements that were so quick, he wasn't sure what she'd done.
    Infuriated, he leaped headlong at her. She deftly sidestepped him, however, and he landed hard on the floor with his face in the carpet. He stood up, shaking with fury, and pulled out his pistol.
    Mich shook her finger at him and raised her eyebrows, quietly adjuring him, "No, no — Boss's woman!"
    "Boss say search!" he growled, putting the weapon away and moving toward her again. He grasped at her, trying to seize a hand, arm, shoulder, breast, head, or any other body part, but no matter how often he tried or what angle of attack he used, Michelle countered every attempt with a deflecting blow. This went on for what seemed to her like hours, but finally the monotony penetrated through his dim wit and he realized he was faced with a draw.
    He stood looking at her in disbelief, this time not because of the enormity of her breasts, but because she, a degenerate American and a woman, was handily matching him. His mind was at an impasse.
    "Okay, mister," Mich intoned, keeping her defensive stance. "Here's the deal. You go ahead and tell your boss you strip-searched me, and I won't say a word otherwise. It'll be our little secret. That way your friends will never know that a woman got the best of you. Understand?" She had no idea if the man spoke enough English to comprehend the truce she was proposing.
    After a long moment he sneered and then stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Mich exhaled a sigh of relief as she readjusted the little bikini top upon her immense tits.

Kerp heard Mich's voice over the headset, saying, "No, no — Boss's woman!" He was relieved that she sounded well, though harried. The same gravelly voice responded to her, "Boss say search!" Although he couldn't help but worry about her, he almost felt sorry for the guy: He had no idea that those righteous tits were attached to such a bad ass.
    He then heard a long-running series of grunts and slaps that began to sound like a Three Stooges episode. Finally the peculiar struggle seemed to be over, and after an interval of nothing but panting, Michelle spelled out her proposition to her attacker. Clever lady. He heard no response to her offer except the slamming of a door.
    Kerp peeked through the curtain and saw a huge man coming from one of the wings, chattering incomprehensibly. He had seen him earlier in the lobby with al-Madini.
    He took a couple steps back, took out the microphone and whispered, "Mich, are you okay?"
    "Kerp, where've you been?"
    "I had to pee. But I've been here for a couple minutes. I didn't say anything 'cause I didn't want to risk giving you away."
    "They're holding me prisoner!"
    "What? What happened?"
    "Some of al-Madini's boys blew their cover. I tried to play dumb, but it didn't work."
    "Do they know you're a federal Agent?"
    "I don't think so, but at this point it doesn't seem to make much difference. But listen, I found the Egg!"
    "The wh — the Egg? You did? Where?"
    "It's here with me in this bedroom."
    "Terrific! If we can just get you and the Egg safely out of there, we'll be home for Christmas." Kerp's attention was diverted as the chatter in the main room turned into loud arguing. "Wait a minute, Mich. Something's going on in there. Let me look."
    He slipped back to the window and peeked inside at the men, who were now all standing. Al-Madini and his bodyguard were having an animated conversation, waving their arms frantically. Finally, al-Madini slapped him and shouted something at all of his men, who then quickly went to the foyer and rang for the elevator. They stood waiting nervously for a minute or two until the doors opened up, providing them with escape from their leader's wrath.
    Once the elevator doors had closed, al-Madini took a pistol out of his pocket, readied it, and started walking toward the bedroom where Mich was. Kerp grabbed the mic and hissed, "Mich! Trouble's comin'!"

"Suddenly Michelle's bikini top burst open and her enormous breasts fell out into view, bouncing and shuddering impressively."

He couldn't believe it! This American whore — this cow — had virtually defeated his own bodyguard in hand-to-hand combat! The man was too stupid to be properly ashamed, so he helped him to understand with a slap in the face. He assuaged his fury with the fact that the oaf would be someone else's problem in a few days.
    The Americans had a saying: If you want something done right, do it yourself. They were quite correct. He would have to take action himself if this loose end were to be properly addressed. No woman could successfully defend herself against one of his soldiers unless she was a soldier as well. That alone was reason to kill her, but the issues of honor and vengeance cried out even more loudly for satisfaction.
    He ordered his men out of the apartment immediately. For their sakes as well as his, it would be best if there were no witnesses. Besides, this kind of killing was something he enjoyed doing in private.
    As soon as his men were gone in the elevator, al-Madini took out his gun and strolled over to his bedroom where the prisoner was being held. He pushed the door open and turned on the light, but saw nothing. Scanning the room from corner to corner, he found no sign of the bosomy woman, which disturbed him fiercely.
    He took a cautious step into the room, and was surprised when the door suddenly swung toward him, slamming into his right forearm, knocking the gun out of his hand, and hitting him painfully in the side of his head. He kept himself from falling by clinging to the doorframe, and as his vision filled with stars, he saw a figure rush past.
    Kerp was trying to open the sliding glass doors when he saw Michelle run out of the bedroom clutching a football under her arm. That had to mean that either she had completely lost her mind, or he was hallucinating. She saw Kerp out on the balcony and rushed to let him in. She flipped a small lever, and as the door slid open, she exclaimed, "The Egg's inside this football!"
    Before he could respond, al-Madini appeared, scrambling out of the bedroom doorway brandishing his pistol. Kerp raised his own and fired, but missed. Al-Madini then fired back, sending a bullet whistling past Mich's ear and impacting against the barrel of Kerp's gun. The force knocked the weapon painfully out of his hand, and it flew spinning onto the balcony, clattering across the paving bricks and off the edge into the night.
    "Freeze!" the terrorist barked, having learned the term from American television. He stopped six feet away from them with his semi-automatic pointed at Mich's heart. She held the football up in front of herself, in the path a bullet would take from the gun's muzzle. He raised the pistol and aimed for her head, but she matched his move, keeping the ball in his way.
    With the football blocking her view, she didn't see al-Madini wind up for a roundhouse kick that smashed into her fingers and knocked the football out of her hands. He whirled back around, pointing his pistol at them again, and snarled, "You are CIA, yes?"
    Michelle and Kerp raised their hands, somewhat surprised that they weren't dead yet, but certain it was next on the agenda. "No. Not CIA," Kerp answered, trying to pique the man's curiosity for the sake of a few additional seconds of life.
    "FBI then," al-Madini guessed.
    "Not FBI either."
    "You lie."
    "You wouldn't believe us if we told you, Yazid."
    Mich scratched the back of her neck, but when al-Madini thrust his pistol out at her, she raised her hand back up.
    "So. You know your enemy, eh? But it is, how you say, too little too late. You will watch your whore die, and then you will follow her. I am going to..."
    Suddenly Michelle's bikini top burst open and her enormous breasts fell out into view, bouncing and shuddering impressively. The man stared in amazement at her wiggling glory for a brief moment, until Mich returned his roundhouse kick with lightning speed, smacking al-Madini's weapon out of his hand. He yelled in anger and pain. Then, taking a step back and facing Mich in a defensive posture, he began inching his way toward the place where his gun had landed.
    Michelle swung around to kick him in the opposite direction, but he ducked and her foot only grazed him. She continued her spin, however, bringing her other foot through a bit lower and squarely into his nose, causing its cartilage to crack audibly. He staggered back, blood splashing down the front of his shirt, grimacing in fury. She took the opportunity to kick off her high heels and throw her bikini top aside.
    He threw another kick at her and she stepped back to avoid it, though not far enough. The blow connected solidly with one of her huge breasts, and Michelle reeled back, crying out in agony.
    Al-Madini stooped down and took a knife out of a sheath that was strapped to his ankle. He stood back up with a hideous grin and moved toward Mich, who was clutching her injured boob to her chest in pain.
    Kerp had been watching the fight in abject frustration, unable to help his partner because he was grievously out-classed by their knowledge of martial arts. He'd kept track of where al-Madini's firearm had fallen, and as the man seized Mich, he dove past them after it. He landed badly against the edge of a coffee table, but he managed to grasp the butt of the weapon and bring it to bear on al-Madini.
    The man had hold of Michelle from behind, using her as a shield. He was pulling her head back by her hair and had his knife pressed menacingly against her jugular vein. She was unable to break free because he had kicked her feet out from under her and was keeping her off balance with an outstretched leg. The two men faced each other in a standoff, neither one making a move.
    "Drop the gun, or I kill her," al-Madini ordered.
    "You do, and I'll blow your head off!" Kerp shouted.
    Such a terrible smile spread across the terrorist's face that Kerp knew he'd seen the Devil. "How much slow death can you watch?" he spat. Mich gasped as a rivulet of blood ran down her neck.
    Holding the knife to her throat, al-Madini's right arm was angled straight out, the only part of his body that was not too close to Michelle to target. Kerp said a quick prayer and fired. The bullet hit the terrorist's elbow, blowing off a hunk of bone and flesh, and jolting the knife out of his hand. The man cried out, releasing his grip on Michelle.
    She quickly regained her stance, reached behind her head and grabbed al-Madini around the back of his neck. In one fluid motion she yanked him forward on top of her back, bending sharply at her waist to bring his feet off the floor, and then, using her butt as a fulcrum, launched al-Madini gracefully over her head. Ordinarily, such a maneuver would have caused her opponent to slam the floor flat on his back several feet in front of her, but they'd been standing much too close to the full-length window.
    Instead, Yazid al-Madini burst through the plate glass, sending shards spinning out into the dark Las Vegas sky. Five hundred feet below was an area that until recently had been an outdoor caf�, but that section of the hotel was now closed for renovation. The construction area was fenced off and brightly illuminated for overnight security with temporary halogen lights.
    As al-Madini plummeted, he was not prepared for the sudden horror and certainty of his imminent death. This was not as it was supposed to be! There was no glory here: no assurance of entry into Allah's presence as a martyr of a Jihad. He was dying a fool's death, overpowered by a mere woman!
    As he watched the rapid approach of the concrete deck, he noticed the green top of a portable outdoor toilet speeding straight toward his face. There wasn't much time for him to truly appreciate the pain of the fiberglass tearing through his eyes, or the incredible smell of the mire into which his body suddenly splashed, collapsing into a heap of bones and flesh. The toilet really should have been emptied two days prior, but the truck had suffered major engine trouble and had been taken in for repair.
    Mich stepped next to Kerp, who was peering through the broken window at the spectacle below. "I — I didn't mean for that to happen!" she stuttered, horrified. "I killed him."
    "Watch the glass with your bare feet, hon," Kerp said as he gently led her back, away from the window.
    She turned and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. "I've never done that before, Kerp," she said quietly. "I'd always hoped I'd never have to take a life in the line of duty."
    He stroked her hair and said consolingly, "It's okay, babe. You didn't take a life: you just saved the lives of 30,000 innocent people."
    She held him that much tighter for his tender comfort.
    They stood there embracing for a moment, unconsciously swaying in each other's arms. Kerp's gaze drifted across the room, coming to rest on Mich's bikini top that she'd thrown off. "Uh-oh."
    "What," she inquired.
    "You're not wearing anything but a thong."
    "So?"
    "Well, you're, like, almost naked here. With me holding you like this, I mean."
    "It's okay. You've seen me before."
    "Yes, but I've never held you like this before. It's not that I don't like it, mind you, but it makes me feel like not much of a gentleman."
    She rubbed his back with the palm of one hand as she hugged him, saying, "You are a gentleman, Kerp. That's one of the things I love about you."
    He stored that in his heart for reflection at a more convenient moment. "Let me see your neck. Is it still bleeding?" he asked, touching the wound lightly.
    "It's superficial. Otherwise, there'd be blood all over me. Kerp, we can't linger here. With all this commotion, al-Madini's men will be back any second."
    "Right. Your room is closer than mine — let's go call for some back-up."
    "No, Kerp!" she warned, looking at him sternly. "Al-Madini's men know where my room is, and when they find out what happened, they'll be looking everywhere to kill me! Let's go to your room and call from there."
    "Alright. But you'd better put that bikini top back on first. You kind of stand out in a crowd — so to speak."
    Retrieving her top, she said, "I think I can be a little more discreet than that. Wait a sec." She trotted to the closet, her huge naked breasts swinging back and forth heavily. "While I was searching this room for the Egg, I came across this." She took from the closet a floor-length garment on a hanger. It was a thobe, a traditional embroidered robe worn by Arab men. She tossed the hanger aside and held the thobe against her mammiferous front, saying, "This will be a just little less conspicuous than the bikini. I think it's large enough that I might be able to..."
    A bell rang in the foyer. "The elevator!" Mich hissed. Kerp grabbed her hand and jerked her into the main room, where he picked up the heavy football, tucked it under his arm like a running back, and scrambled out the patio door. He closed it and pulled her out of sight just as the elevator arrived. With her boobs caroming wildly, they fled the penthouse complex using the stairwell access door through which Kerp had come.
    As they began running down the steps, Mich held the railing with one hand and used her other arm in an effort to keep her massive breasts from bouncing out of control. They proved to be too big to be wrangled by just one extremity, however. "Kerp! Not so fast! My boobs are bouncing too much! I can't hold 'em. Besides, I'm cold. Let me put this on."
    "Go ahead." he said, stopping and turning to her. Her giant naked boobs were still wobbling grandly when he turned to address her, catching him off guard. Her nipples had distended into great sausages in the chilly night air. "You do need to be dressed. You might get sick again. Or give somebody a heart attack."
    In a few seconds she was wearing the garment. It was too long, but it did stretch around her bust, not only covering her immense mammaries, but also keeping them more or less restrained. She lifted the hem up with one hand and said, "Let's go."
    The Agents ran down a few more flights of stairs before venturing out into a hallway. They strolled casually to the elevator and pushed the button, waiting what seemed like hours for it to arrive. "Shit!" Kerp mumbled. "I left the stupid communication deck up there!"
    "Well, look on the bright side," said Mich. "You won't have to explain that to Hudson if we get killed here tonight."
    The elevator finally arrived and they got on, relieved to see that no other passengers were on board. Kerp pushed the button for his floor, and in a couple of seconds the machine responded, slowly pushing its doors together. After a brief ride, the doors opened again, but before the agents could step out, they saw Hasan walking briskly down the hallway toward the elevator.
    He glanced up, doing a double take as he recognized them, and quickly reached under his jacket for his weapon. The agents leapt to either side of the car to take cover. Kerp frantically jammed his thumb against the button to close the elevator doors, as he grabbed al-Madini's pistol from his holster. When he raised it in readiness, Michelle whispered, "Kerp! Don't shoot unless you have to! These rooms are full of people, and a bullet will go right through the walls!"
    Hasan released the safety and aimed to shoot through the sheet metal to where Michelle was standing. Upon squeezing the trigger, however, there was no report or recoil — only a disappointing click. He knew it was loaded: he'd checked it just a minute ago. He ejected that round and chambered the next, but again nothing happened. He threw the gun down and bolted suddenly into a sprint, racing toward the elevator to stop the doors from closing around his prey.
    When they heard his running footsteps, Mich and Kerp peeked through the slowly closing doors to see a madman rushing angrily toward them. It became apparent to both of them that the doors were not going to shut before he arrived. Michelle put her hand on her partner's chest, gently pushed him back against the wall, and stepped out of the car. She gauged her timing, watching Hasan's rapid approach.
    As he drew near, he yelled out a battle cry that was abruptly cut short by Michelle's foot rocketing out and punching into his chest at the expense of a few ribs and the man's ability to breathe for the next several seconds. Having neatly laid him down, gasping and writhing on the floor, she slipped back through the elevator doors without interfering with their closure.
    "Nice," Kerp commented with relief. "That was the guy who talked to me at the restaurant. He looked like he was coming from the vicinity of my room, so they probably know where it is."
    "Let's use a pay phone in the lobby, then."
    "Okay. No, wait — we can call in from the security office instead."

"Damn!"
    "What?" asked Michelle as she scanned the atrium from the mirrored security window. They'd found the office still vacant.
    "The phone's messed up. There's no dial tone — just static," he informed her as he banged the receiver down. "Can you believe it? A security office with no telephone!"
    "Their people all have walkie-talkies; they probably don't depend on phones that much. Forget the lobby, too."
    "Why?"
    "I recognize one of al-Madini's men down there. By the elevators: see him?" she asked, pointing. "He can see the whole lobby and atrium area from there."
    "Shit. They're probably watching all the other exits. Okay, we need a plan. How do we get past them with this football?"
    "Kerp." She began solemnly. "You can get out with it by yourself. They won't be looking for a lone man. They're watching for a woman with humongous boobs. I'll never get by them. These things are a dead giveaway," she said, gesturing to her bulging chest. "As soon as they see a pair of monster boobs, they'll be all over us. Let me wait here and you get out with the device."
    Kerp was shaking his head. "No, I just can't do that. I'm not going to abandon you here."
    "Kerp, we don't have a choice! Our duty is to get that bomb out of this hotel and safely away!"
    "Now wait, I think I have an idea. You said they'd be looking for big boobs, and you're right. But I'll bet they wouldn't recognize your face. I doubt they ever took so much as a second look at it after they saw the way you're built. So if we could somehow disguise you..."
    "How are we gonna disguise a 77-inch bust?"
    Kerp looked around the office. "Work with me here. Let's see what we have at our disposal and go from there."
    She decided it was better to humor him than resist, so she helped him prowl the room, hoping something would occur to them. She opened the closet and found a security uniform hanging in a dry cleaner's bag. "Well, it's not much, but these clothes would attract less attention than this thing I've got on."
    "True. Go ahead and see if any of it fits." She whipped off the thobe and her enormous breasts bounded free, wiggling vigorously. Kerp averted his eyes.
    "I've got to get this wire off first. It's driving me crazy!" She peeled the silver patch away from her breast, and then slipped her fingers behind the bikini's crotch to pull the tampon module out. She tossed the condom into an empty waste can and commented, "That ought to generate a few questions when it's found." She laid the paraphernalia next to their equipment case on the table and picked up the uniform again.
    As she removed the plastic wrapping from the hanger, Kerp picked up the components of the wire and put it in the case, which was now missing most of the electronic components that had been packed inside. In the event they might need it, he'd brought along Moe's Capcam, stuffed into a square void in the black packing foam that filled the interior of the case. He took it out and set it on a nearby chair, and proceeded to enlarge the biggest hole in the foam by pulling out hunks of it and dropping the scraps on the floor.
    "Actually, this shirt wouldn't be a bad fit if it weren't for my boobs," Mich announced. "It's a woman's uniform, even."
    Without thinking, Kerp glanced and saw her wearing the shirt, buttoned at the top and bottom, with her tremendous breasts billowing out of the gap in between. "Oops, sorry!" he apologized, turning his head.
    "Kerp, I told you before, I don't mind if you look!"
    "I know, but I just..." his voice trailed off as he focused his attention elsewhere. His gaze had gone to a corner of the office where a half-empty carton of copier paper sat, and a smile made its way across his face. Chortling gleefully, he set upon the box and dumped out the remaining reams of paper.
    "Got an idea?" Mich asked hopefully.
    "I hope so. And I will have to take you up on your offer," he answered, taking out the little Swiss Army Knife that hung from his key ring.
    "What offer?"
    "To look." He began sawing a large hole in the side of the box, occasionally casting his eyes to her giant boobs. It took him less than a minute to finish, after which he presented the box to her, saying, "Can you get 'em through there?"
    "Huh? Through the — oh, I think I see where you're going." As Kerp held the box up, she grasped her huge tits together and started stuffing them into the hole in the box's side. It was a tight squeeze, and she had to shake her immense mammaries a couple of times to help them slip through, filling the box to overflowing with her feminine flesh. He then grabbed the lid from the corner and put it on top.
    "Now hold the box close to your chest," Kerp instructed. After a few adjustments to her shirt and some modifications on the box, he was satisfied. "Okay, see if those trousers fit you."
    Michelle let go of the box, which comically stayed hovering at her chest like some magician's trick, and put on the uniform's pants. Kerp picked up the Capcam and ripped the wires off the baseball cap and sunglasses. Raising her eyebrows, Mich commented, "Moe's gonna kill you."
    "He'll have to wait in line." Handing her the cap, he said, "Tuck your hair up under this. The more we can get you to look like a man, the easier it'll be to get out of here unnoticed."
    She spent a moment fixing her hair beneath the Orioles cap, and then stood straight for his inspection, holding the bosom-filled box in her arms and saying, "How do I look?"
    He nodded approvingly, and advised, "Just hold your elbows in close to your sides and try to cover the place where your boobs go in the box. Yeah, good." He stepped back and walked around her. "Excellent. I'm happy to say I've never seen you looking less beautiful."
    "Never thought I'd be glad to hear that."
    "Now for the final touch," he said as he picked up the sunglasses. "Let's just slip these on you..."
    "No, Kerp, you should wear those. They've seen your face. They'll know you!"
    "No, you've spent more time with them, they may recognize you without these."
    "I won't wear them," she said sternly.
    "Mich, come on! Just let me put these on you."
    "Kerpalscheiker," she growled as she grabbed his arm in a painful hold, "you've got a choice: you either wear 'em in your present state of health, or you wear 'em with a broken arm. Now, what's it gonna be?"
    "Hey! That hurts!"
    "You bet it does! Just wait until I crack that radius of yours!"
    "Ow! Mich!"
    "I'm serious, mister!"
    "Alright, alright! I'll wear the shades!"
    "That's my boy," she said, lovingly rubbing the pain out of his arm.
    "Damn! You're mean!"
    "No, just hard-headed when it comes to the safety of people I love." She soothingly stroked his hair and asked softly, "Forgive me?"
    Sulking, he conceded, "I guess. You're still mean, though."
    "I'm not mean."
    "Yes, you are."
    "No, I'm not."
    "Are."
    "Not."
    "Are."
    "Not." The twinkle in his eye told her all was well. "So what were you doing with that equipment case there?"
    "Oh yeah. I thought I'd carry the Egg in it. It looks enough like an regular suitcase to go unnoticed."
    As he knelt down and began gingerly wedging the football into the hole in the foam filler, Mich ordered, "Before we leave here, put some water on your hair and slick it back. It'll darken it and give it a different style."
    "Okay. Good idea. So you do care?" he teased.
    "Of course I care, you dummy," she answered, poking him.

They found a service stairway and followed it down to the ground floor, where it led to the hotel's kitchen. Before opening it, they peeked through the window at the bustling scene beyond. "I don't see any of our friends. Plenty of dark skinned faces in there, but they're all in uniforms, working. I don't see anyone standing watch," Kerp said quietly.
    "I don't recognize any faces from the penthouse, either," Michelle added.
    "Let's go through and head over there. There seems to be more traffic in that direction, and I'll bet we'll find an outside door. How many men were in the penthouse?"
    "Five, including al-Madini."
    "So they can't be watching all the exits. Maybe we'll get lucky and find a door nobody's keeping an eye on."
    "Let's hope."
    Kerp pushed the door open and held it for his friend carrying the big box, and they walked amongst the busy workers toward the opposite end of the kitchen. No one gave Mich a second look as she carried along her immense naked breasts in a cardboard box.
    A man approached pushing a hand truck loaded with stacks of canned soft drinks, and as they past him, Kerp asked nonchalantly, "Hey, bud — which way's out?" The deliveryman pointed with his thumb in the way he'd come.
    They walked as quickly as they could without seeming to be in a big hurry. Finally they saw an exterior door several yards ahead of them, and felt the cold air it was letting in as traffic passed through.
    "Shit!" Mich hissed.
    "What's wrong?"
    "See that man standing there by the door?"
    "The big guy?"
    "Yep. Al-Madini's bodyguard."
    "Shit!"
    "He's never seen you — maybe if you sort of keep yourself in front of me..."
    Kerp quickened his pace and tried to place his body between Michelle and the goon guarding the door, but it was hard to maintain that position without constantly checking back to see where she was.
    Mich began planning in her mind how she might handle Grizzly if he confronted them. Her initial urge was to walk casually up to him and proceed to kick his testicles up into his throat. When she saw that Kerp's hand was slowly moving toward his weapon, she mumbled, "Don't get itchy. This one's not too bright. Just stay cool."
    Kerp relaxed his arm and tried to focus only on the doorway and beyond. It was hard for him to avoid looking at the big man standing almost directly in his way, but he kept his face resolutely forward as he walked.
    As they approached, Michelle began to wish she'd agreed to wear the sunglasses. Of all al-Madini's men, Grizzly was the one most likely to recognize her: their little encounter would surely have left an impression of her face in his mind.
    Out of Kerp's peripheral vision, he saw the man's body language change suddenly. He risked a quick peek, hoping the sunglasses would hide his eye movement, and saw him staring intently at Mich. Grizzly took a step toward her. Kerp pretended not to notice, and continued walking on by until he was out the door.
    He turned around and saw that the man had stopped Mich. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he knew he had to act immediately, so he set down the equipment case with the Egg inside, and drew al-Madini's pistol. As the door was slowly closing, he grabbed it and quietly slipped through behind Grizzly's back.
    A simple arrest might have been the proper thing to do at that point, but there was no assurance that the brute didn't have accomplices nearby. Kerp just needed to get Michelle and the Egg to safety as quickly as possible with the least amount of complication. He stooped down behind Grizzly's feet, gently placed the muzzle of the gun on top of his big right shoe, and jammed it down hard as he squeezed the trigger.
    The concussion of the shot was primarily absorbed by the man's foot, especially after the bullet began opening up the flesh, which has splendid sound-absorbing properties. The remainder of the blast was directed at the concrete floor, and the sound of the gunshot was mostly lost amid the boisterous noise of a working commercial kitchen. Grizzly immediately forgot about Michelle and fell rolling on the floor, holding his foot as he screamed in agony.
    By the time people turned to look at him writhing, Kerp had already put the weapon away and was escorting Mich out the door.
    "Did you rent a car when you got here?" Kerp asked her as they walked the back alley.
    "No, I took a cab."
    "Maybe we ought to do that now, just to get away from here as quickly as we can."
    "All the taxis are out in front of the hotel. The man watching the lobby would see us," Mich advised.
    "Let's just find a phone, then," he said, checking behind them to see if they were being followed.
    "If I don't get this box off my boobs soon, they're gonna be permanently square!"
    The alleyway emptied out into a busy street, and they both stopped when they got there, looking one way and the other for a public telephone or idle taxi.
    "Here we go!" Mich exclaimed happily. "Come on!" She started walking off.
    Kerp looked ahead and saw where she was going. A police cruiser was stopped about a block away, and the cop was writing a ticket for a double-parked car.
    "Officer!" Kerp called out as they drew near. He held up his badge for the patrolman, who looked at them curiously. "We're federal agents and we need a little help."

The next day was the Friday before Christmas weekend. Kerp had gotten in late after the long red-eye flight from Las Vegas, and realized he was one of just a very few people dumb enough to come in to work that day. Mich wouldn't be in either: she was flying to her parents' house in upstate New York for Christmas.
    While he sat at his computer, trying to get as much paperwork done as he could before the holidays, he listened to seasonal music from a radio he had turned on at a neighboring desk. At the top of the hour, the news began with a report about a man identified as an al-Qaeda terrorist, who had jumped to his death from the roof of a Las Vegas high-rise hotel, after being cornered by federal officials. Kerp wondered if this was some kind of cover story or just another inaccurate news report. The account brought the awful events in that hotel room to his mind. He stopped typing and thought about Mich.
    Knowing she would be gone for the next twelve days made him feel like someone had pushed the PAUSE button on his life, and everything had come to a standstill, waiting for her return. He got up and wandered over to her desk, and after gazing at it for a minute, sat in her chair. It was the closest he could get to her at the moment. Kerp scooted the chair in and picked up a photo of Michelle with her parents. It was taken before she had started the breast enlargement process, though in the brief and lightweight summer clothing she wore in the photo, it was plain to see that she was still very busty. It was also evident where she had inherited her buxomness.
    He stared at the image of her face for a long time, thrilled by her beauty. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chided himself. Falling in love with your partner is about the dumbest thing a cop can do. It's a psychological trap: spending all that time together, depending on each other, knowing each other so well. Then throw in the fact that Mich is so gorgeous and sexy, and you can call me one dumb field Agent.
    Wow... It's really true: I've fallen head over heels in love with Mich! What would she think if she found out? She's a drop-dead gorgeous babe who's got a brilliant mind, and is built like nobody's business; and what am I? Just another guy who's fallen for a beautiful woman. Mich trusts me, and she'd probably feel betrayed if she knew I think about her this way. And I think about her every minute of every day! What am I going to do about this?
    He considered his situation for a while and finally formed a resolve. I'm going to do the only thing I can do: nothing. Nodding to himself, he affirmed his course of action. I'll just stuff this down and sacrifice my feelings so I can keep my job and my best friend. It certainly sounded workable, at least. But how was he going to live his life that way, with all these pent up feelings? He decided to try something he'd heard about, and write his feelings down as a means of therapy. That way he will have given vent to his emotions, but no one else would have to know.
    He got up and moved back to his own desk, closing the files on his computer and starting a new one, naming it 'Confession_Dec01'. He began typing:

    His fingers tapped away as he unreservedly poured out his heart to her, and it was as if he were laying aside a great weight. Tears came to his eyes, but he wouldn't let them flow. He didn't want to be caught blubbering on company time if someone happened by.
    After he'd finished recording his feelings, he read it back and changed a few words around. Then he read it again and nodded. It was good. He read it again and almost printed out a copy, but stopped. No, that was stupid and he knew better. The purpose of the exercise was simply to keep his emotions under control, not to publish them. Leaving a hardcopy lying around was just plain sloppy and amateurish. The same could be said about leaving the word processing file on his computer, too. Things like that were eventually found, and if he really wanted to keep his secret, he'd have to get rid of it. He quit the word processor and deleted 'Confession_Dec01' from his hard drive.
    He felt cleansed but drained. He wasn't going to be much good the rest of the afternoon anyway, so he decided it was time to go home.

As he unlocked the deadbolt on his front door, Kerp noticed a package lying in the corner of the doorway, where it would be unseen from the hall. Taking the key out of the door, he stooped down and picked up the package. It was a brown envelope stuffed fat and hefty, with his nickname written on the front in a sloppy but familiar hand. He entered his apartment, tossed his briefcase on a chair, and opened the package.
    It was his camcorder and an envelope with Moe's handwriting on it. Inside the envelope were a photograph and a simple note from Moe: "Thanks for the mammaries!" The picture was the one Moe had taken of Michelle and him (wearing the Capcam) at Moe's apartment.
    He smiled as he studied it, walking into the next room. He pocketed the note as he walked to his media center and stood the photo up on the top shelf, leaning against a row of CDs. He gazed at it for a while, basking in that frozen moment of togetherness. Though his eyes occasionally strayed to Michelle's huge boobs, it was her face he kept coming back to: he knew none more gorgeous. Her joyful smile radiated as they stood together.
    With a sigh, he stooped over and felt around behind the television for a special cable that connected the camcorder to the TV. After locating it, he plugged everything in and turned it all on. The tape of the Christmas party was in the camcorder, and good old Moe had rewound it to the beginning. Kerp pushed the PLAY button, and the video opened with close-ups of every pair of swollen knockers at the party. After several non-stop minutes of nothing but yawning cleavage, Moe had trained the camera on the dance floor to capture the frolicking of one woman in particular. She was one of the younger field agents, wearing a tight, off-the-shoulder dress with a neckline that nearly exposed all of her ponderous bosom. The footage of this woman went on for a long time as she bounced her watermelon-size boobs around. She eventually noticed Moe taping her, and actually put on quite a show for him, shaking and bouncing her giant tits, and at one point even pulling the top of her dress down and flashing him. The scene abruptly changed right after the part where her boyfriend walked resolutely toward the camera.
    Then there was a conversation between Moe and three lovely girls with huge boobs. He had taped it unbeknownst to them, holding the camcorder low at his side as if it weren't in use. All the shots were looking up in crazy angles at the undersides of three enormous bosoms. None of their faces were visible on the screen, which explained why they never saw that the little red light was on.
    The next scene was back on the dance floor, where Mich was shaking all that incredible stuff of hers with wild abandon. The video continued without a cut in the action as Moe captured every possible second. She certainly was spectacular. After a few minutes, the slow dance number came up. Kerp stood there with his hands in his pockets remembering. He was glad Moe had gotten this. He laughed as he watched Mich pull him in between her enormous breasts. Watching her lips, he remembered what she'd said. "I've got you surrounded now, Kerpalsheiker. Surrender peacefully or I'll have to use force." Savoring the memory, his smile was as wide as it could go. When the video started moving on to the next scene, Kerp wound it back again to where the slow dance began.
    On the third time through, his reverie was disturbed by someone rattling a key in his front door lock. Unalarmed, Kerp turned to look. It had to be Mr Walters, the caretaker, who would let himself in to maintain this or that when he thought the tenant was away. He was the only other person who had a key. He really ought to knock first. Well, actually, he had given Mich a key recently, but she was with her folks in New York by now, or on her...
    The door swung open and there stood Michelle. Though mystified, he was elated to see her and pleased that she felt comfortable enough to let herself in like that. It made him feel very familiar with her. "Well, hello there!"
    "Hey, Kerpalscheiker. I hope you don't mind," she said holding the key up. "I thought I'd try it out."
    "You're lucky I'm not standing here in my underwear."
    "Yeah; danger is my middle name. Whatcha watchin'?" she asked as she walked over to him and stood beside him looking at the screen. "Ooh! I know those two people."
    "I thought you'd be on your way to your parents' house by now."
    "Plane leaves tonight," she explained as she watched the two of them dancing.
    "Oh, okay."
    "Hey! That was at Moe's place, wasn't it?" she exclaimed, picking up the photo from the shelf and contemplated it with a broad smile. "I want a copy of this," she demanded.
    "I'll ask Moe. I'm sure he'd bend over backwards to do anything for you."
    "I'd appreciate it if you would," she said, carefully setting the picture back in place.
    "How are you feeling?"
    She returned to his side and answered, "I think my cough is gone. But I've got a bruise the size of your head on my left boob." Not many women could boast such capacity. "That's going to postpone my centerfold shoot." He looked at her askance and she added, "Kidding. Oh, you were right, by the way."
    "About?"
    "The swelling in my breasts never completely went away; it did leave them a bit bigger. I measured my bust this morning, and it was exactly 80 inches. Turn the sound up so we can hear."
    As Kerp meditated on his partner's expansion, he worked the remote control, causing echoey music to fill the room. They stood in front of the TV, watching as if they were hypnotized. Mich made a comment when Moe zoomed in on her big boobs, but apart from that they didn't speak. Without taking her eyes away, she removed her coat and tossed it onto the couch. She was wearing a red sweatshirt with the FBGB logo emblazoned across the bulbous front.
    When the slow-dance segment of the tape had ended, Michelle asked, "Could you run that back, please?"
    He smiled. He'd already zeroed out the counter, so all he had to do was push a button and the slow dance began once again. When the part came where she pulled him close to herself, they both chuckled. As they gazed at the screen, they held hands, and it felt so natural that it almost went unnoticed. Almost.
    Kerp turned to her and asked, "Miss Myers. May I have this dance?"
    She grinned and answered, "Why certainly, Mister Kerpalscheiker. I thought you'd never ask!" She hauled him up close against her and held him tight with a grin. He felt her great firm breasts slip to either side of him under her sweatshirt, and he put his arm around her. Mich laid her head on his shoulder and they danced lazily to some tempo other than that of the music.
    "Kerp?" she said after some time.
    "Mm-hm?"
    "I came here because I wanted to ask you something."
    "Sure."
    She raised her head and looked at him. "I don't want you to spend Christmas here all by yourself. I came to invite you to come with me to my parents' house for the holidays."
    "Are you serious?"
    "Of course."
    "Can you get another plane ticket this late?" he asked.
    With an embarrassed smile, she explained, "Don't have to. I bought two when I booked the flight a month ago."
    "You did? For who?"
    "You, dummy!"
    He laughed. "So you decided to wait until the last possible minute to ask me, then? Why? So you could watch me try to pack for a twelve-day trip in two minutes?"
    "She grinned and poked him. "No! You've got plenty of time. The flight doesn't leave for another seven hours. I just — I was nervous about asking you, and it took me this long to work up the courage."
    Befuddled, he asked, "Why?"
    "You know. I didn't want to frighten you."
    "Frighten me? Oh, I get it — you mean the stigma of bringing somebody home to meet the parents? Yeah, well, you don't scare me, Myers. Not this time, anyway. Actually, I'd love to go to Willow Grove with you. That'd be fun! But it could be dangerous, you know."
    "How so?"
    He winked at her and said, "If we're not careful, this could get serious."
    She smiled and put her head back on his shoulder. "We'll be careful."

The End