The Casting Couch
By Montrose
The girl from Kansas accidentally rapes Mr Plank

---------------
Send comments, ridicule, and story ideas to montrose@cyberbabies.com
---------------

I have a reputation among the ladies in Hollywood. But despite this I manage
to continue to make a living. I direct movies you ain't never seen. I don't
get to decide what goes in my movies, I just direct. If I had the money, I'd
direct fuck films for the rest of my life. As it is my movies got way too
much talking and not enough blood and flesh. Well, fuck that.

The reason I keep doin' it is because I got a business card and an office
that says I'm a Hollywood director. Like I said, the local broads already
know about me and steer clear. That's why I hang out at the bus depot. Every
lost waif and starry eyed farm girl who gets off a bus sees me before she
sees the corner of Hollywood and Vine.

You'd be surprised how stupid these chicks are, and how eager. They just
spent hours on a bus tellin' themselves that they were not gonna let an
opportunity slip through their fingers. And when they disembark there I am,
Mr. Opportunity.

One day I see a tall, stacked, breeder hipped blonde stomp on off the noon bus
from Kansas. Her cloths are screaming "girl next door" but her figure is
screaming "Norma Jean". You know... Marilyn Monroe?

I stroll up right away and offer to help her with her bag. She must be 6'
tall with a 40 DD rack at the least! Like a babe in the woods she flips her
suitcase into my hands, and it slams to the floor (what she got in there,
brick?). She asks me who I am, I show her my business card and wa-da-ya-know?
She wants to get into pictures!

Of course she's stuck to me like glue now (carryin' her own damn bag) and
beggin' for a chance. I hem and haw and finally allow that if she takes me
out for dinner I'll see what I can do.

So here we are at a dark little bar I like to hang at and this stacked amazon
is buyin' my drinks. Not a bad life, I'm thinkin'.

"I can't believe my luck, Mr. Plank!" she gasps between gulps of her
Margarita. "They told me it could take months or years to make the right
contacts, and yet here you are! I'm soo excited!"

That makes two of us, sister. She's wearin' a low-cut, form fittin' number
that showcases her cleavage real nice. And the high hemline and heels let me
know that there weren't nothin' wrong with the way her legs held up her ripe
round ass. I'm all puffed up. Check me out with the major piece a meat, I'm
thinkin'.

So we never order dinner and she downs about four Margaritas before I decide
she's ripe. I tell her we're going back to my office to work out the details.
She can hardly walk, but I don't mind. She is leanin' on me so hard I can
hardly keep my knees straight, but everything's cool. I'm scorin' more cheap
feel action out the door than I get off a paid professional.

We get back to my office and I offer her a glass of water.

"Ash a pood... idea." she says. I get it and drop in my magic pill - date
rape drugs they call 'em. I don't want Norma Jean here gettin' any noble
ideas at the 11th hour.

She sucks it down like a camel.

"Fanks. You're feet. I mean, tore seat.. I..." and then she busts out
laughin'. I mean a full bellied horse laugh complete with foot stomps and
snorts! Whatever. She'll shut up soon enough, I figure.

But she doesn't. She just keeps on laughin' and trying to talk, which makes
her laugh all over. Maybe she's too big for the drug to take effect, but I
don't want another OD on my hands so I don't give her seconds.

Then she grabs the glass and lurches to her feet. "Ima glip mmmm waaaater."
she mumbles and starts staggering all over the room. I throw myself in front
of her to push her back to the couch. Bad move.

She rams into me like I ain't even there and mashes me into the far wall. Her
laughin' is muffled for a moment as my head is engulfed by her chest. I'm not
sure whether to fight or enjoy myself until the air starts gettin' low. So I
try pushin' back. Nothin'.

Now I'm getting nervous. I'm seeing spots in the darkness. I make a fist and
punch her in the ribs a few times as hard as I can. I figure to drop this
bitch right here and take her ass. She seems to think I've started a tickling
contest because she starts laughin' all over and digging her fingers into my
ribs. Only her touch don't tickle. She's bruisin' the shit out of my ribs! It
feels like she's tryin' to pull one fuckin' free!

I start yellin'. Beggin' her to stop. I don't know if she hears me or what
but she finally backs up a step and I drop to the floor.

Before I finish suckin' wind she grabs me around the neck and lifts me up to
her eye level. I'm dangling off the floor, chokin' to death. Her eyes ain't
even open any more. She must be runnin' on fumes. But she's holdin' me 6" off
the ground and ready to kill me without even breakin' a sweat.

"Mfff sleep. wheressss bed?" she says.

I manage to use both my hands to pull her thumb away from my throat so I can
cough out, "Couch... behind you."

"Show mmme." she says and throws me across the room. I hit the far wall and
slide down to the couch. I see her staggerin' my way and try to roll out. She
trips on the carpet and turns, waves her arms and legs around the place
whooping like a crane, and finally lands on me, on the foot stool, in front
of the couch.

My head, shoulders and some of my back are buried under her firm, wide ass
cheeks. I'm face down sucking funky foot stool dust. Even havin' my head
stuffed up her rectum would have been better!

And what's she doin? Laughin'! You think she ain't never seen nothin so funny
as a mans lower body stickin' out from between her legs before! I'm yellin'
up, "Get yer fat ass off my head you stupid cunt!" and she can't hear a thing
over her own horse laugh!

So I try to fight my way out. I get my left arm free between her legs and
start pushin' against her upper thigh. I'm pushin' and pushin' and getting
nowhere. Then I notice she aint laughin' anymore, she's moanin' and rubbin'
her box on my shoulder! I can feel the heat turn up around her crotch.

"You fuckin' giant! Stop gettin' off and get off!" I yell, but she just
starts humpin real hard and fast. She's bouncin' on my head now, and that
foot stool don't got enough give, I gotta tell ya. I can feel the skin on my
face rub away into the cheap coarse fabric.

I try putting my arm down - you know, remove the stimulation - but she wont
have it. She grabs my arm and holds it straight up, rubbin' it where she
wants it with no concern over where it belongs and how it's attached!

Now I'm experiencing real pain. I feel the grind and pop of cartilage ripping
away from bone. I hear the sickenin' suck of my arm bone slithering from it's
socket and roaming free up and down my side. I'm wailing. I'm crying. I'm
beggin' her to stop.

She's just getting started. I don't know how many times she came that night.
It felt like the entire left side of my body was on fire. All I could taste
was blood and all I could see was tears.

In a matter of hours she got tired, or satisfied and rolled off of me onto
the couch and fell asleep. I stayed there, pressed into the foot stool until
she awoke around noon. I couldn't move.

When she finally sat up she looked down at me and screamed. "God don't pass
out!" I thought, but I couldn't speak. She didn't. She just dialed 911 and
followed to the hospital

I found out that my jaw was broken along with the stuff I expected. They
wound up putting me in a body cast with my mouth wired shut. It was getting
to the end of visitin' hours so my giantess was gonna have to leave.

"I'm so sorry I got so drunk last night Mr. Plank. I can't remember a thing!
I can usually handle it very well, being so big and all. I hope you'll give
me another chance when you get better." Then she leaned forward and whispered
in my face. "I'm really sorry we didn't get to have sex last night. I would
have done anything for you. Anything. But now we'll have to wait till you're
all better." she winked. "I get a little rough when I get going, you see. I
couldn't trust myself to take it easy on you in your condition."

She slipped her fingers under my robe and up to my sack. My rod sprang to
attention. Maybe she was gonna suck me off before she left! God please yes!
After last night I needed it bad!

"What's this?" she asked with her hand around my crank. She slid it up and
down a few times. YES YES YES! I could feel the thrill mounting already!

Then she stopped. "How did I get the idea you were hung like a horse? I
mean..." and she held her hands apart the distance of my left arm. "Like
that?!" She looked puzzled. "Oh well. I'll still be out there for you when
you get better Mr. Plank. Don't forget me, promise?" She gave my throbbin'
knob a pinch before she left.

She wouldn't be back. In the months that it would take me to heal and get out
of the hospital someone would warn her about me and she would stay away.

I tried to look down at the pup tent my hard-on was making under the covers.
I couldn't even reach it to beat off with the damn body cast on. It would be
months before I had direct access to my own cock.

I don't have to die to be punished in hell. Here I am.