Purple Haze #2: Dessert Counts
by Unknown
Casey decides to have dessert with Dan. Or maybe to have Dan for dessert?
Update: 20/10/1997 to giantess


Dan Peters sat across from Casey Lott in the restaurant.  The management
had a table arrangement in the corner with a chair on one side that faced
what is best described as a balcony attached to the opposite wall.  From
his perch, Peters gained his first good perspective of the fantastically
gigantic woman.  She was tremendous.  She was also the most beautiful woman
he had ever seen.  A set of radiant cheekbones underscored her impossibly
blue eyes.  Beneath them, her full lips formed something between a teasing
pout and a devastating smile.

"I'm impressed," she said after the Ucan waiter had left for their drinks.
"I don't know what I'd do if some colossus scooped me up and plopped me in
a pocket."

"I have no idea what I'd do, either," Peters said.  "The whole thing is
still a blur."

"I'd say you're handling it pretty well."

The waiter brought their drinks.   She raised her glass and said, "Cheers."

With a don't-be-silly smile, she encouraged him to clink his glass with her own.

"Okay," she said after the toast.  "I know you're bursting with questions.
Shoot."

He tried to stop replaying how huge her hand was next to his and gather his
thoughts.

"You know," she offered.  "Like how did a nice girl like me get to be King
Kong's big sister?"

"Actually, I was wondering how you knew where to find me."

"Ohhh," she said. "That.  Let's just say I might have a spy in your camp."

Peters became alert, which prompted her to laugh.

"The plot thickens, eh?"

She hesitated a moment, watching him fight back his desire to learn more.

"Your leading lady told me," she finally said.  "But she's not a traitor.
Pricilla and I worked on a production five or six year ago and became
friends.  She beamed me to say she was coming here on location.  No big
deal.  She just wants to get together and catch up."

Peters began to relax.

"Then again, maybe it will be a big deal," she said and drew herself up
straight.  "Wait'll she sees me now."

"Anyway, I figured that you didn't know the planet Gerania from a hole in
the wall and that maybe there'd be a gig.  So I began checking the likely
hotels when the long-haul ships were scheduled to arrive, and yesterday the
good folks at the Inter-Galactic told me you were checking in today."

Once again, Peters found himself smiling.

"So you weren't always so, um . . ."

"Exceedingly statuesque?" she finished.  "No.  Actually it happened a year
after shooting with Pricilla.  My father ran an outfit specializing in
light control and sound capture.  We were on location.  Some nowhere
planet.  The place was as barren as a meteor, except for the oxygen.  There
was a freak explosion.  I missed it because I had gone back to the shuttle
for a part.  When I returned everyone was dead.  Including my father."

She turned away for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Thank you."

She continued, "The planet was covered with spit holes - like geysers.
Apparently, that's what exploded.  When I got back, some kind of purple gas
was steaming from one of the holes.  At the moment, I barely noticed it.
Turns out the purple haze wound up giving me a more . . . elevated look on
life."

Before he could reply, a waiter came to take their order.  When they
finished, Peters asked, "And how do you feel about it?"

"A little long on bazaar propositions, a little short on meaningful
relationships," she said.  "That's not a bad thing.  I think I needed time
for my head to catch up to my body.  So I'd say that things have worked out
fine."

She chuckled.  "Actually, I kind of like it.  I've been in some howlingly
funny situations.  And a couple of situations that would have turned ugly
if my size hadn't prevailed".

The waiter returned with their dinner.  They continued to chat during the
meal, but Peters mostly listened.

"Aren't you curious about my business proposition," she asked.

"Done," he said.

"What?"

"The job's yours.  What ever you want, you got."

"Still feeling impulsive?  That's how you landed in my pocket, you know."

"That's one way to look at it."

"The other?"

"I acted decisively."  He looked up and waited for her eyes to find his.
"And wound up having the best evening I've ever had with the most wonderful
woman I've ever met."

She laughed.

"I can see how you got where you are in this business."

"No, scout's honor."

He continued to look her straight in the eye, holding her gaze with his
own.  She set her chin in her hand and smiled.  That's when he realized it
was her gaze that held him.

"Are you sure you want to start something, " she asked.

"I think it already began."

"Well take a good look at me, and be sure.  Because if you keep it up,
there's no way I'll be able to say no."

"So you feel the helplessness too."

"I feel something," she said.

She leaned closer, so close that her eyes passed beyond his field of
vision.  Then her nose and ears were gone too.  All that remained were a
pair of lips.  They hovering so near that when she spoke again, the air
around him was driven away and replaced by her moist, warm breath.

"But it's definitely not helpless."

The lips came closer and delivered a soft, lingering kiss that fully
consumed Peter's face.  As the kiss continued, he could feel himself being
pulled half way out of his seat.  Then the lips slowly parted and he
plopped into his chair with an audible thud.  He looked up as the lips
receded and the rest of Casey Lott's features returned to view.

"Care to come to my place for dessert?"

"Love to," he said breathlessly.

"Good.  Because you're it."

They left the restaurant and arrived at her home twenty-five minutes later.
She carried him in and placed him on a padded platform that was larger
than a football field.

"First things first," she said.

She sat down at the edge.  The entire platform moved, nearly bouncing
Peters off his feet.  The action-reaction made him realize that he must be
standing on her bed.

"Why don't you get undressed?"

Peters didn't move.  She kicked off her shoes, rolled over and scooped him
up in her open palm.  Then she sprawled across the bed and rested on her
elbows, holding him as easily as she would hold a can of spray paint.

"Oh c'mon," she said.  "You can't possibly be comfortable like this."

Her opposite hand reached toward him and a finger as big as his leg rubbed
softly against his pants, stroking his long-erect penis.

"You've been bulging out of your pants ever since I put you in my pocket."

Peters said nothing, and hoped the terror he was feeling didn't show on his
face.

"Hey, it's up to you" she said softly.  "This isn't a rape situation.  I'm
not going to tear your close off or anything, so just relax."

He looked up as she ran her finger down the length of him.

Peters slowly took several deep breaths.

"No.  I know.  I'm fine."  He took several more breaths.  "Sorry.  I don't
know what happened.  I think getting raised and lowered so quickly must
have shaken me up."

"Is that it?  Here I thought it was because you were at the mercy of some
impossibly big chic and had no idea what to expect next."

The blunt assessment made him laugh.  Cautiously, Peters sat up to survey
the situation.

"Phew.  This is. . .different," he said.  "Tell me again what you had in mind."

"I want you to do whatever is comfortable," she said.

"Well, what you suggested sounded pretty good."

He looked down at the buttons of his shirt and glanced back at her.  Then
he began unbuttoning, pausing for a few deep breaths along the way.  After
removing the shirt, he unbuckled his slacks and slid them off.  When he was
fully undressed, he felt her fingers tighten around him.  Holding him, she
tilted her hand and his clothes fell away to the bed below.  She winked,
then shifted onto her back and propped herself up against the pillows.  She
raised Peters until he was even with her enormous breasts.  Even under the
pullover, they commanded his full attention.  She relaxed her grip and let
him lie freely, slowly elevating him until he was level with her eyes.

"So Mr. Producer, how does it feel to undress in the palm of a woman's hand?"

"Like nothing before," he said, his embarrassment yielding to the evident
anticipation of his erection.

"I enjoyed it too," she said.  She brought a finger to her lips and wet it,
then lightly stroked it down his chest.

"Especially when I find something like this."  Her finger stopped at his
penis, testing its resistance to her gentle touch.  She flicked it as
effortlessly as if it where a light switch, forcing the stiff shaft
downward, then letting it snap back on it's own accord.

"Oh, that's great," she said.

She chuckled at the effect and flicked him several more times.  Then she
drew her finger over the tip and brought it to his thighs.

"But I think I'm going to need you to help me out here."

She pushed two of her fingers between his thighs and spread them apart,
forcing Peters' legs to open wider and wider.

"Much better," she said.

Her finger ran up the inside of his thigh and slipped under his testicles,
exhibiting them as if they were a pair of match heads resting on the pillow
of a sofa.  She gave them a gentle bounce, sending an urgent wave of
ecstasy racing through his body.

"I bet you get off before I count to ten."

With a smile, she started to count.

"One. . . two. . ."

On three, Peters convulsed and exploded, shooting burst after burst of
semen higher than he had ever seen it go.  He felt like he'd never stop.
Just as he was beginning to subside, Casey's thumb and finger encircled his
still-erect organ, consuming the full length of his manhood in a mere
pinch.

"Four. . . five . . . "

By six, Peters ejaculated again.  Less semen came out, but what did shot as
high as his initial burst.  He was nearly hyperventilating from the climax,
but she still didn't release her hold.  Instead, she began moving his penis
as if she were stirring a cup of coffee.

"Seven. . ."

"No, please no," he shouted.

The magic number was nine.  Peters came again and again as he thrashed
around in her enormous hand.  He tried to push her fingers off his
hypersensitive member, but it was futile.  He twisted wildly, screaming at
the top of his lungs as Casey Lott held him in orgasmic frenzy.

"Let go.  Let go.  Oh God, stop.  Please stop."

"Almost there," she said, squeezing his penis tighter.  Then she tugged,
prompting his rear to lift from her hand.  She kept pulling, leading his
thrusting hips higher and higher until he formed a shaky, spasmodic arch.

"Ten," she continued.  "E-lev-en.  Twelve!"

He produced another offering, pumping out every bit of liquid that remained
in his engorged shaft.  She finally released him, and his spent body
collapsed into her hand.  All he could do was lie there - spread eagle -
until his rapid panting slowed to heaving breaths.  Several minutes later,
his heart rate settled to about 150% of normal and he opened his eyes.

"Better?"  There was no concern on her face.  Just a mischievous smile.

"That. . . . That. . . . That," he gasped.  "Oh shit."

"So how's it feel to be dessert?"

"Huh?  What?"

She brought him closer and delicately licked away the thick liquid melting
on his stomach and thighs.  She devoured every drop, finishing with a
resounding smack of her lips.

"Mmm, just like having a personal yogurt dispenser," she chuckled.  "Tell
me, my little treat, what's it like to serve up a quart of your delicious
semen right in the palm of my hand?"

"Like nothing ever before.  Oh my God, Casey,  like nothing I could live
without."

"That's exactly what I was hoping to hear."

Her fingers tightened around his body.  She held him at arm's length and
examined him anew, her firm grip leaving Peters with little doubt that a
big change in his life had only begun.


#  #  #


(The night is still young.  So don't miss Part 3.)