Internal Affairs: Part One
By CCJ
	Mary Chang watched out of the corner of her eye as the last of the 9-5 analysts in the China division of the CIA building left for the day. “Hey, don’t work too hard now, Mary,” said one as he passed. She waved him off with a smile. “Just finishing up a few things.” It was almost time.
	Chang had been recruited out of Harvard for her computer and language skills – fluent in Mandarin, English and most major computer languages, not to mention a Mensa level I.Q. Double major in mathematics and computer science. Fast track to a law degree until she had been approached by a man in a federal-looking suit. “Have you ever thought about government work?” 
She had passed the entry tests and rigorous background checks with flying colors. She was also a spy for the Chinese government.
	Mary stood up from her cubicle, steeled herself with a deep breath and headed for the women’s restroom. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she thought.
	Her background actually was clean. Born and raised in the U.S. by second-generation parents. Never been to China. Hard working, spotless record. But shortly after she had been approached by the fed, a Chinese man in a similar suit found her in a café near the Harvard campus.
	It was simple economics, really. She wasn’t even considering taking the CIA position; the pay wasn’t nearly what she’d make in the private sector. But the Chinese agent had promised to sweeten the pot … a lot. Of course, she still had to pretend she was living on a first-year analyst’s salary. But back in her apartment …
	Over the past six months, whenever she had thought about backing out, telling the connection the deal was off, she thought about the safe back in her apartment – the safe with stacks of hundred dollar bills. After she pulled this job off, she would have enough to retire, if she wanted. Enough to pay off the mortgage on her parents’ house. Enough to pay for her little brother’s college tuition. Hell, enough to buy a summer bungalow in Maui even after all that.
	That’s what Mary Chang thought about as she walked down the hall and entered the women’s restroom. She opened the door to the farthest stall from the door and stepped in. Once inside, she dug what looked like a small makeup kit out of her purse. It was not a makeup kit, though. Inside a secret pocket were two syringes and a very small, doll-like briefcase.
	Mary checked her watch. It was 5:05 p.m. The cleaning crew came through at 5:45. That gave her forty minutes. Enough time. She quickly began taking off her clothes.
	Mary had a classic Chinese look – petite, small but full breasts, gentle s-curves, shoulder-length black hair and full, expressive eyebrows. She was cute and modest. Honestly, who would suspect her of being a spy? That’s what she often told herself. She carefully stacked her clothes on top of the toilet until she was standing naked. And then she took the tiny briefcase and set it on the floor next to her feet.
	Removing the syringe from the kit, she located the big vein on her forearm and plunged the needle in, pushing down the stopper. It would be about a minute before the shrinking serum took effect. She threw the empty syringe in the toilet and flushed.
	The serum had been developed by the Chinese government specifically for spying purposes. Once activated, it would shrink Mary Chang down to about an inch high. From there, her plan was to infiltrate the main computer bank of the China division. In the doll-briefcase were a pair of miniature black overalls and two tiny syringes filled with an agent to counteract the shrinking serum. The extra syringes were backups. There was also a last-resort cyanide pill, if she somehow became permanently shrunk.
	Earlier in the day she made up an excuse to visit the computer bank. Normally, one needed card-clearance to get in, but because of her specialties she often had to talk with the IT boys in the main bank. While she was there she carefully forgot a briefcase under one of the tables. The boys had all left now; she had counted them from her desk.
	In the briefcase was a change of clothes and a thumb drive. Once back to normal size, she would use the thumb drive to install a program she had developed, nearly undetectable of course, that would slurp information and send it through an anonymous proxy back to China.
	And after that, she would return to the bathroom, pick up her other clothes and leave like nothing had happened. Mary waited to become small and thought about the safe in her apartment.

	Elizabeth Myers, head of the China department, was just leaving her office. She was meeting another mid-level supervisor for drinks after work. In fact, he was standing at the end of the hall, grinning, almost sneering, at her. “God,” she thought, “I don’t know if I can go through with this.”
	Elizabeth was, in physical terms, almost the exact opposite of Mary. She was tall, curvy, Amazonian. She wore professional but provocative dresses that clung to her wide hips. Her strawberry blonde hair fell down to the middle of her back in long tresses. In the boys club that was the CIA, she had advanced using her looks and a series of Machiavellian power plays, including one threatened discrimination lawsuit. Let them hate, so long as they fear, the Prince had once said, and Elizabeth had taken the advice to heart.
	She walked down the hall and gave him a smile. “Ready to go?” he asked.
	“Hold on, I’ve got to go to the bathroom and freshen up.”
	“Well, hurry up. We don’t want to miss happy hour!”
	She passed by him, and the smile disappeared just as quickly. She turned left down the hall and into the bathroom. “Fucking douchebag,” she muttered under her breath. Elizabeth moved down the row of stalls and tried the one farthest from the door, but it was locked.

	Mary, now standing an inch tall on the bathroom floor, felt her heart momentarily stop and her mouth go dry as the door to the bathroom swung open. She instinctively grabbed the suitcase next to her and darted behind the toilet. She listened as the footsteps thundered along the tile, coming closer and closer. Even though she knew she had, Mary was panicked by the thought that she hadn’t locked the stall door.
	She stifled a scream as the handle jiggled. Maybe they know, she thought. Maybe they’ve known all along, and they’re coming to get me. But then the footsteps retreated two stalls down. She heard the door open, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Carefully, oh so carefully, she peered around the toilet.
	Mary immediately recognized the pair of shiny, black high heels and shapely calves. Only one woman in the office dressed like that. Fuck, she thought. It’s Elizabeth. Of all the people to walk in, why did it have to be her boss? She waited, as silent as she could. Finally, she heard the flushing of the toilet and the stall door swinging open. The feet moving to the sink. The faucet turning on. Turning off. But instead of hearing the feet moving towards the exit, Mary heard nothing.
	She peered out again and saw the feet standing by the sink still. Christ, she must be fixing her makeup, Mary thought. She didn’t have her watch on her. She wondered how much time she was wasting. There was no choice. She had to go now.

	Elizabeth peered into the mirror intently, dabbing blush on her cheeks. She turned her head side to side, leaning in closer to the glass. The more time she killed in the bathroom, the less time spent in the bar with her date. That was her thinking.
Satisfied, she grabbed a tube of lipstick out of her purse and tried to pull the cover off, but it slipped from her fingers. The tube landed on the counter and rolled off, clattering to the floor and rolling towards the stall that Mary Chang was currently sneaking through.

	Mary's heart truly did stop for a brief second when the giant tube of lipstick crashed on the ceramic tile. It sounded like a gunshot. Not only that, but it began rolling towards her. She realized that Elizabeth was about to turn around, bend down and pick it up. She stood there, frozen with fear – the fear so intense, momentarily short-circuiting her fight-or-flight response. It was the same feeling as hitting a patch of black ice in a car or the brief second when you lose your balance on a flight of stairs and feel yourself hanging over nothing, with nothing to brace the long fall.
	She watched as Elizabeth, tall as a skyscraper, turned and stooped down to pick up the lipstick. Still, there was a brief moment of hope. Maybe, maybe, just maybe, Mary thought.

But as Elizabeth’s eyes tracked down to the tube, they stopped at the small figure standing just underneath the stall door in front of the lipstick. There was a brief, heavy silence as the two regarded each other with equal amazement. Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open. There before her was a miniature person, clad all in black. She leaned in to look closer.

	Neck craning up, Mary's mouth dropped open as well. Elizabeth's face appeared as large as one of the reliefs on Mount Rushmore. Her features, magnified as they were, were mesmerizing. From her vantage point, Mary could see mostly Elizabeth's open mouth – the big, off-white teeth, covered in a thin sheen of saliva, and behind them the pink hump of Elizabeth's tongue and behind that the glistening back of her throat.
	Perhaps it was the sight of a mouth that large, open and looming over her, that triggered some ancient evolutionary holdout in the deep recesses of Mary's brain and finally activated  her flight response. In any case, her feet became unglued, and she sprinted for the bathroom door.
	Elizabeth, acting without thinking, dove after the tiny person. It wasn’t hard to catch, her arm swooping around to cut off its escape route. She plucked the little figure firmly at the waist between her thumb and index finger.
	She brought it up to her face and stared at it. It looked like … Mary Chang? “What the fuck?” Elizabeth murmured to herself. The words boomed in Mary's ears, and she felt hot breath blow over her.
	Still on her hands and knees, Elizabeth looked down the stalls. The locked stall was empty. She got up and walked over to it. Carefully, she shimmied underneath the door – quite a feat in her dress – and pulled herself up inside. Elizabeth's eyes roved over the folded clothes and the tiny bag. She picked up the bag and inspected it. The secret pocket was only meant to withstand the sub-standard scrutiny of the average security guard, and Elizabeth soon found it.
	The CIA had gotten vague reports lately about some new Chinese spy-tool. A big breakthrough. Something scary.
	“You little commie bitch,” Elizabeth said, turning her attention to Mary. “You’re in for it now.”
	Elizabeth walked out of the stall and back to the sink. She put the makeup kit into her purse and pulled out her work phone. She was about to thumb the emergency quick dial, but she paused.
	Sure, she could take credit for catching a spy, but on the other hand, she would have to take responsibility for letting a spy infiltrate her department in the first place. She glanced back and forth between Mary, still squirming in her grasp, and the cell phone.

	Elizabeth startled at the sound of a loud knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, you fall in or something?” God, he's still out there, Elizabeth thought.
	“Just … fixing my makeup!” she yelled back. “I'll meet you down in the parking lot, OK?”
	Fuck, she thought. What am I going to do? She couldn't put the little bitch in her purse. Security scanned everyone's bags on the way in and out. And she could only imagine the hours and hours of emergency meetings she would have to sit through if she turned Chang in.
	Elizabeth walked back in to one of the stalls and, pulled down her skirt and panties and sat on the toilet. “We’ll figure out what to do with you later,” she said to Mary. “But for now … I’m sorry, but this is the most secure spot I know.”
As the hand holding her began moving downward, Mary Chang realized what Elizabeth meant. Oh, please no, she thought. But the hand kept drawing her down, towards Elizabeth’s groin. As the hand slipped between the thighs, Elizabeth’s pudendum filled Mary’s field of vision.
	Mary could only watch and struggle weakly as the other hand came down and carefully spread the labia. The thick, outer lips separated, and the inner lips peeled back just enough to reveal the delicate opening they hid.
	The hand holding her swooped underneath; Mary was briefly framed by the twin pillars of Elizabeth’s thighs. Above her she could see not only the vagina but also the twin globes of her buttocks. She had but a brief second to consider this, however, because the hand rose up, too quick to react, plunging her into the orifice.
	She only had time to brace herself as her head slipped in between the meaty lips – the rest of the world disappearing from view. Mary felt the warm flesh give way before her, accommodating her. At first she didn’t think it would work; it was a tight fit. But the force underneath her kept pressing, and her shoulders sank in as well. Then the rest of her body easily slid in.
	The vaginal walls closed in, forming around her. She felt the finger disappear beneath her, and then she was trapped. Oh god, she thought, I’m in her pussy. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
	But all her senses told her it was. The fleshy walls rippled around her, slightly slippery, and Mary was overcome with the thick, feminine odor – musky and familiar, yet ten times stronger than it should be. It was hard to breathe. The air was thin and humid.
	And then Elizabeth stood up, and Mary felt the world shifting around her. As Elizabeth stooped to pull up her panties, Mary was pitched forward. And when Elizabeth walked out of the stall, Mary was swung left to right with every shift of those ample hips. Yet the walls held her tight. She was encased, and whatever way those hips swayed, so did Mary.
	Always a bit claustrophobic, Mary began to panic within the confines of Elizabeth's vagina. She twisted and turned, trying to bring her arms up to push the walls away from her and give her space to breath. But the flesh sprang back every time, pressing in on her face and coating her in a thin film of mucous. 
	In the darkness, Mary could hear nothing but her own struggling, the heavy vibrations of Elizabeth's heels hitting the ground, and from somewhere above and behind her, the low rumblings of Elizabeth's guts.

	Striding down the hall, Elizabeth began to have a very pleasant sensation between her legs. She could feel Mary moving inside her, rubbing up against her G-spot. She tried to act casual as she passed by coworkers, but she knew she was walking funny. And every now and then, when Mary really hit the spot, her breath would involuntarily hitch, and she would let out a panting little sigh.
	Elizabeth moved through security and out the doors as fast as she could. Her date was standing outside, with his arms crossed.
	“Hey, there you are! What's the matter?”
	“Oh, I'm … not feeling so well,” she said. “Think I'm going down … er, coming down with something.”
	“Yeah, your face looks a little flushed.”
	“Really? Jeez. Listen, I'm going to have to take a rain check on that drink. Maybe next week?”
	He nodded and walked off, looking sullen. Elizabeth made a bee-line for her car.

	To her relief, Mary had more room to maneuver and breath now. The walls were expanding around her, filling out like a balloon being inflated. They were softer and more pliant now, too.
	But something else was happening to Elizabeth's vagina as well. From all around Mary, but especially above, the walls began to secrete a thick, viscous liquid, altogether different from the lubricant she had first encountered. It slid down in gobs from above, coating her hair and soaking through her overalls.
	Christ, Mary thought, this sick fuck is getting wet. Stories went around the office about Elizabeth, and now Mary understood why. She sputtered and tried in vain to keep the liquid out of her eyes and mouth.
	Suddenly Mary noticed the constant and maddening back and forth sway had stopped. And then there was a jarring crash as Elizabeth sat down.

	Elizabeth plopped down in her car seat and turned the ignition. She wasted no time in pulling out of the parking spot, almost peeling out as she left. Christ, she thought, I'm worked up. She could feel herself starting to soak through her panties.
	Driving down the freeway, Elizabeth couldn't help but touch herself. She had loosened her skirt and had her hand just underneath the hem of her panties, fingers gently massaging her clit. She felt like cumming right then but decided to hold off until she got home -- really rub herself down good. Besides, she had a feeling it was going to be a big orgasm, and, driving 70 miles per hour, that just wouldn't be safe.

	The walls had become loose enough that Mary began to slip down. They expanded in out now, breathing like a lung. Beneath Mary there was a tight, muscular ring that had kept her trapped, but now it was starting to get loose enough where she just might be able to squeeze through.
	It was hard, if not impossible, to get any leverage using the slimy walls but between gravity and grit, Mary started to worm her way back out of the orifice. She was almost retching from the awful realization of where she was and what she was surrounded by. 
	Before she had been too panicked to even consider her situation, but now Mary had a little room to breathe and think. Her re-enlargement syringes were in a pouch on her belt. No use doing it now. It would just kill her and Elizabeth. But if she could just get free long enough to use it ...
	
	Elizabeth felt Mary's feet working their way out of her and moaned – a husky, deep moan from the back of her throat. Her pussy was red hot, and every time she touched it, it felt like a live current running through her groin. She was having trouble paying attention to the road.
	“Oh no you don't,” Elizabeth said, reaching her hand down and pushing the tiny legs back inside her. The sensation sent a carnal jolt up her spine.

	Mary could feel the cold, normal air against her ankles and the damp silk of Elizabeth's panties as they wiggled their way out. And then a force thrust her back inside, farther up than she'd been before. Her head struck the hard plug of Elizabeth's cervix, and the walls around her quivered in response. Mary could feel and hear the blood pounding through Elizabeth's sex organ, and the walls now oozed with lubricant. The air, hot like a sauna, was thick with the pungent smell of arousal.
	Mary resigned herself to being trapped inside Elizabeth. She briefly considered the cyanide pill but pushed the thought out of her head.

	Elizabeth pulled in to her driveway and jogged up the steps to her house. Walking into her bedroom, she threw her purse down and kicked her heels across the room. She shimmied out of her skirt and practically tore her blouse off. As she sat down on her bed she unsnapped her bra, and her breasts fell free – nipples coral-pink and erect.
	Elizabeth fell back on her bed. She lifted her ass in the air to slide her panties off. They were sopping wet and clung at her crotch as she peeled them off. Her fingers ran down the cleft of her pussy, briefly pausing at the entrance of her vagina before running back up, bringing with them wetness and excitement.
	She rubbed her clit slowly with her index finger, while her middle finger worked her vagina. Elizabeth could feel Mary with her finger, and she pushed the miniature woman back and forth inside her.
	Elizabeth, digging her heels into her bed, arched her back – face lost in pleasure, eyes closed, smiling and biting her lip.

	Mary, still dazed from the sudden change in orientation, became lost to all but the physical sensations she was experiencing. The finger pushed her back and forth along the posterior wall of Elizabeth's vagina, slick as a slip-and-slide. She was moved along effortlessly. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism, but this did not feel entirely unpleasant to Mary anymore. The walls had dilated to the point where it felt like she was in a small cave – a woman cave. She almost liked the idea.
	In fact, Mary reached down and began touching herself. Woman touching woman, woman touching herself, both touching themselves. It was very meta in a way, she thought. These were the kinds of thoughts that went through Mary's head as the finger pushed her along in the balmy darkness. In any case, she was along for the ride; there was nothing else to do.

	Elizabeth felt the tingle of the approaching orgasm long before it came – a building pressure from somewhere deep inside her. She used her free hand to spread her lips while the other rubbed her clit – now swollen and exposed – faster and faster. 
	And finally, the dam broke. It felt like a bomb exploding between her legs. She reached out and dug her hands into the bed, back arching up. She let out a load half-moan, half-scream. It lingered and modulated on her lips for a long time. The orgasm was rolling over in waves, almost until the point where it was continuing uncomfortably. She writhed back and forth on the bed as the spasms wrenched through her. Finally, they subsided enough where Elizabeth could lay still. She laid there splayed across the bed for some time, breath coming out in long, whistling sighs, eyes still closed.

The experience was much more violent for Mary. Suddenly the walls around her contracted sharply, clenching from all sides in tight, rhythmic contractions. Elizabeth's hips bucked sharply in time with the contractions, sending Mary crashing against the spasmodic cervix. At first she was worried Elizabeth's pussy was going to squeeze her to death, but every contraction was weaker than the last.
	There was one final tremor that ran through the vagina, and then Mary felt Elizabeth collapse onto the bed. 
	The finger that had been manipulating her was removed now, and Mary started slide down – down and out. She slowly slithered out, like so much of the fluid now dribbling out of Elizabeth. The tight, muscular ring that previously held her was loose and open. It was still a somewhat tight fit, and as her shoulders and head passed through – her arms caught above her head – Mary was slathered one more time in that supremely feminine concoction.
	And then Mary was free, deposited in a damp spot on the mattress directly between Elizabeth's thighs. The vulva in front of her was huge, agitated and red.  She collapsed and lay there sputtering and panting.

	Without thinking, Elizabeth reached between her legs, picked up Mary and casually began licking her. She had always loved the taste of herself. She did not like, however, the texture of Mary's overalls on her tongue. Stopping for a moment, she took hold of Mary's collar and ripped it down the side without effort. Throwing the shredded overalls beside her, she resumed licking the naked figure up and down, running her tongue over the soft skin and tasting her sex.

	Mary, now delirious, let her head loll back and forth as the giant tongue ran over her naked flesh. At least she was in the cool, normal air, she managed to think. But the tongue was pleasant, in a way. It felt like a warm, wet air mattress pressing against her – soft and firm at the same time. It moved up her abdomen and over her breasts, lapped against her face. And then the tongue dropped down between her legs, the tip forming into a hard nub as it rubbed against her sweetness. Mary let out a soft sight and reached out to wrap her arms around that moist muscle.
	The tongue began to draw her in, into Elizabeth's waiting maw. The hand nudged her along as she dipped down into the mouth. Below her, Mary could see the undulating tongue and the saliva dripping down from the roof of Elizabeth's palate.
	Elizabeth's lips closed down on Mary, and she felt a strong sucking motion from beyond them. She was powerless to resist as she slid between the glossy, red lips head first. The world once again plunged into humid darkness.
	The tongue pushed her up against the roof of the mouth, and Mary felt more suction around her as Elizabeth savored the taste of her pussy, drawing the juices from Mary. And then there was a loud, wet smack as Elizabeth swallowed. Mary almost slid back into the throat and down Elizabeth's gullet, but the throat closed up at the last moment, and the tongue held her back.

	And suddenly Elizabeth had a novel idea of how to solve her problem. She pulled the naked, sopping wet woman from her mouth. “You know what I'm going to do to you, my little spy?” she said, holding Mary in front of her face. “I'm going to eat you. Yes, I'm going to swallow you up.” 
	Elizabeth's breath was still coming out in ragged pants, and it washed over Mary in humid bursts, misting her with saliva. Mary watched as Elizabeth's tongue snaked out and ran over the surface of her glistening, red lips. And those lips smacked in anticipation of their coming meal.
	Elizabeth, though, was drowsy. A great post-orgasmic tiredness was coming over her. Even as she spoke, she could feel sleep approaching fast.
	“Aw, but I'm about to take a nap,” Elizabeth said. “And I want to be awake so I can feel you digest in my tummy.” Elizabeth yawned and set her hand, still grasping Mary, down on her belly. “You just stay here until I wake up from my nap.”
	Elizabeth eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted to sleep within the minute.

	Mary was pinned against the soft surface of Elizabeth's abdomen by the giant hand. The belly rose and fell in great swells with Elizabeth's breathing. Mary gradually came out of her delirium. Beneath her, Mary could hear the loud gurgling and churning of Elizabeth's bowels – guts she would soon be moving through unless she could escape and reach her shredded overalls. She didn't doubt Elizabeth's threat in the least.
	Exhausted, but filled with grim determination, Mary began trying to free herself. It was a careful balancing act. She didn't want to wake Elizabeth, but there was also the element of time. She didn't want to still be stuck when Elizabeth woke up.
	Mary began army-crawling her way out from underneath the hand, shifting her weight and pushing against the fingers ever so carefully. It was tense, arduous work. At one point, Elizabeth snorted loudly in her sleep, and the hand clenched down on Mary again, erasing all her work.
	But one didn't graduate summa cum laude from Harvard by being a quitter. Mary didn't know how long she struggled under the hand. Half an hour, maybe an hour. But eventually, sweat standing on her brow, she pulled herself free from the hand with one final burst of energy.
	She rolled over on the stomach and allowed herself one moment of rest. Looking back, she could see Elizabeth's face between the hills of her heaving breasts. Still sleeping. And then Mary felt a sensation she had never felt before in her work-focused life: red, murderous rage.

	Elizabeth felt a sharp sting on her ass and woke with a start. “Ow!” she yelled and reached instinctively towards the source of the pain. Turning over in bed, she saw Mary Chang standing over her, holding a syringe in one hand. Mary was naked and looking at her with cold, hard eyes.
	For a brief second, Elizabeth, still half-asleep, did not understand the scene, but then the cobwebs cleared from her head. She looked again. The syringe was empty.
	“Fuck you,” Elizabeth said. She tried to jump out of bed, but Mary, anticipating her move, slammed her back down on the mattress with surprising force and leaped on top of her. Mary, pinning Elizabeth by the shoulders, sneered at her captive and licked her lips.
	“We're going to have some fun, you and me,” she said.
	Elizabeth, eyes wide with fear, could only watch as Mary Chang seemed to loom larger and larger above her.
	To be continued.