Jack and the Beanstalk

by Lubrican

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Chapter Two

One must, at this point, view this from two very different perspectives.  We'll start with Jack's.

By the time he realized he was about to be captured, those very impressive and, as it turned out, very warm and soft breasts were clamped around his head as she leaned forward and picked him up with a hand on each side of his waist.  Imagine being a five year old, being picked up and hugged by a naked Dolly Parton.

His world jerked and swayed as he was carried to a chair, where the giantess holding him then sat.   He felt like a child being picked up, and it was only normal for him to expect to be plopped down on the giantess' lap.

What actually happened was that, instead of being sat upon them, he was pulled between her thighs.  Then something deliciously soft and warm surrounded his enormous penis, and Jack stopped thinking about what it was like to be a little boy being picked up by a big person.

His teeth rattled in his head as he was violently shaken.  It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn't being shaken, so much as jerked toward her and then pushed away again, over and over.  By gripping her wrists with his hands he was able to stabilize himself a bit.

That's when he had the time and room to think about the surprising fact that he was no longer a virgin.

He looked down to see his gigantic penis slicking in and out, between those tasty looking pussy lips he had seen.   It blew his mind.  In fact, it blew more than his mind.  It blew his nuts too.

From Dinah's perspective, it was a dream come true.  Dinah was a hot blooded giantess and had a libido that went with the size of her body.

The problem was that the male to female ratio in the land of giants was two to one...in the wrong direction for the females.  She lived with her brother, who was a good provider, but her older sisters, who lived several clouds over, got the pick of the litter, so to speak.  What was left over didn't appeal to Dinah, and her prospects for finding romance...or just sex, for that matter...were pretty dismal.

Healthy young giantesses had literally gallons of hormones rushing through their veins, though, and she still got horny on a regular basis.

It was for that reason that she didn't look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes.  And what she was sliding in and out of her now thoroughly happy pussy was bigger than what would be on a horse anyway.   It had all the advantages.  It was long and thick.  It was warm and hard.  And it was attached to something that could even talk!  Talking would be for later, of course, but it was very important.  She had it on good authority that her sisters’ husbands never talked to them after making love.  They just rolled over and went to sleep.

Some things are the same in any culture, as it turns out.

Everything was going quite nicely, as far as Dinah was concerned, and she was a very happy giantess indeed.  She got even more excited quite soon.

"It even spurts!" she sighed.

Then she got less happy, because after it spurted, it did the same thing her sisters complained about.

It got soft.

"No, no, no!" she scowled angrily, looking at Jack for the first time since she’d started using him to try to soothe the ache in her loins.  "You're not done yet!"

Jack, somewhat dazed by all this, knew what it felt like to squirt, and he also knew what happened to his penis when it did so.  That was, after all, why his mother sent him outside...to make it soft and small again.

"I believe I AM done," he gasped, quite honestly.

"This will never do!" said a very unhappy Dinah.  "You're magic.  Make it get hard again!"

"I'll try," sighed Jack.  What had just happened to him had felt SO good that he was very motivated to do it again.

There was much discourse in the minutes that followed.  It might be of interest to scholars, concerned with conversation between giants and humans, but we won't repeat it all here.  Suffice it to say that, while Dinah waited for Jack to become useful again, she got his story out of him.  When it became evident that the thing that had been so impressive before, and had promised to give her so much pleasure, was now doll sized again, she put her giant brain to work.  She believed in magic.  She'd seen many things magical.  All she had to do was figure out the formula needed and she could solve the problem.

She set Jack on the floor, which put his face right in front of her wide spread pussy lips.  Those lips were glistening and the maw between them was full of pearly white liquid.  Jack stared in awe.  He could usually get three or four nice spurts out of his prick, but this...this would fill a drinking mug!

He was distracted from thoughts like that, though, as she put her dress back on.  Then she questioned him closely about his actions, while she fed him stew, which she dripped into a thimble.  He ate ravenously, drinking it like soup, but answered her questions patiently, describing the whole series of events that had led him to her door.

"Show me these beans," she said.

He fished the three remaining beans out of his pocket, staring at the shredded front of his pants.  It was hard to believe that what he thought had happened had in fact happened.  The pants were the proof, along with an astonishing sense of well being.

"You said there were five," said Dinah.  "One grew the beanstalk you climbed.  I see only three now.  Where is the fourth?"

"I ate it," said Jack.  "I was hungry."

Dinah thought.  If the beans were magic, and produced giant bean stalks, might they not make other things giant as well?

"Eat another one," she said.

"But I only have three left," complained Jack.  "And your stew is much tastier than the beans."

"Don't go anywhere," commanded Dinah.

She strode from the room.  Jack expected the floor to shake and shudder, but it didn't.  She was, after all, not quite twice his size.  She was gone for but a few moments and came back with one hand held in a fist.  She opened it to show him a dozen or more beans.  Other than the fact that they were a bit greener, they looked exactly like the three he still had.

"Try one of these," said Dinah, pinching one between her finger and thumb and holding it out to him.  "I got them off of your beanstalk."

Jack's stomach was full, but he ate the bean anyway, to please the woman who held his fate in her considerably large hands.

They waited.  She peered at the hole in the front of his pants.

"Nothing's happening," she complained.

Jack's mind had calmed and he put it to use.

"I have an idea," he said.

"What's that?" asked Dinah.

"Well before, when I first saw you, you were naked," said Jack.  "I found that to be an exceedingly pleasant sight."

"Why thank you!" Dinah preened.

"I was particularly entranced with your teats," he said.

She frowned.  "Young man, I do NOT have teats.  COWS have teats.  GOATS have teats.   I have breasts, and don't you forget it!"

"Well, whatever you call them, I'd love to see them again," said Jack.  He felt a stirring in his groin at the thought.  "I think that might help."

Dinah looked at him appraisingly.  Small he might be, but his tastes were those of a male.   She opened her dress and let her breasts hang out.

Jack's eyes sparkled.  "I think it might be working.  I don't suppose you'd mind if I tasted those delicious looking tea...um...nipples?"

Which is how Dinah and Jack found out that the beans were indeed responsible for his gigantic erection, which was faithfully reproduced as he labored to suck at a nipple that was easily as big as a well grown strawberry.

Dinah, being quite interested in taking up where she had left off,  simply lifted her dress and plugged him in again, as she had done before.

"You must last longer this time," she murmured, enjoying the feel of his massive prick pushing her pussy walls apart.

"I-I-It m-m-might b-b-be bet-t-ter if-f-f m-m-my f-f-feet could t-t-touch the f-f-floor," he stuttered as she energetically fucked herself with his penis.

She stopped.  "Do you think so?" she asked.  She was panting.

"You seem in such a hurry," he gasped.  "It tends to make me be in a hurry too."

"Well, we don't want that!" said Dinah.

Soon they were situated on Dinah's bed.  She was lying comfortably back, with her head and back propped up on pillows that would have made a whole bed for Jack, who was standing on his knees.  That put his prick at the perfect height and he slid it in with no help at all from his hostess.

"Ahhhhh," she purred.  "That does feel nice, Jack."

Her hips made excellent handles for Jack, which he used, which allowed him to lunge forward, which he knew she liked.

"Mmmmm," she said appreciatively, her eyes smoky with lust.  "Soooo deep."

And, he had but to lean forward, and there were those cherry nipples, so stiff and tasty.  He set up an unconscious rhythm of lunging forward as he sucked mightily, and relaxing his cheeks as he withdrew for another lunge.  He felt something poking him in the stomach, and took time to look down to see what it was.  He was somewhat amazed to see something that looked decidedly like a penis, such as he’d had when he was first adopted.  I suppose, these days, a young man might have characterized it as a "joy stick."

"You're a man!" he gasped, stopping to stare at the lump of flesh that was protruding from between the folds at the top of her split.

She looked down and laughed.

"That is my clitty, silly little man.  I do love it when your stomach rubs it well."

It was a little creepy, as far as Jack was concerned, to be rubbing up against something so male looking, but she was indeed appreciative when he did so.  Soon there was a sloshing noise from their joining, and Jack felt his lower body getting wet.  He decided that the obvious conclusion must be wrong.  Strange though she might be, she surely wouldn't piss on him.  Not wanting to offend her by asking if she was, and being a very practical young man, he wiped his hand through the wet mess and sniffed it.  It didn't smell like piss.  It smelled quite tangy and nice, in fact.  It was impulse to taste his wet fingers.  He recoiled instantly, until the taste registered.  He was distracted by her hoarse and quite loud, "Faster, Jack, faster!"  But he would remember that taste later.

He did go faster, and was soon going as fast as his young body was capable of, ramming his oversized prod into her as violently and quickly as he could, and sliding his stomach wetly sideways with each lunge forward.  She seemed to be in a hurry again, which brought sweet pain to his enlarged testicles, and he knew that he'd feel the sweet soothing rush through his prick any second now.

"I need to spew!" he gasped.

"NOT YET!" she bellowed.   

The pain in his ears required that his hands be used to cover them, which meant he couldn't pull himself forward so violently any more.  The only thing he could do was to dig in with his knees and lean forward.  He latched onto a thick nipple and sucked hard, using the suction to pull himself up and wiggle his stomach across her clitty.  He felt the tip of his cock dig into something spongy and firm.

Then he was punished.

At least that's what it felt like to him, initially.  Her legs clamped around his sides, forcing his breath out in a rush.  Her screech was like that of a locomotive, blowing white steam through the brass whistle.

Those were the bad parts.

But there were good parts too.  Something very powerful began massaging his penis, squeezing it everywhere at once and nowhere in particular.  With a pitiful squeak, which was all his empty lungs could produce, he felt that sweetly painful rush through his prick.  He felt himself being propelled out of her by the force of his issue, and had to suffer her cries of ecstasy while his hands gripped her hips and he lunged forward to regain the ground he'd lost.

He became lightheaded as his cock continued to gush in a way that felt like some kind of overlarge hose had been attached to his body and was emptying him of every drop of liquid in him.  He expected to see his skin shrivel and dry up as his prod bucked and his life essence flowed from his body to hers.

Of course he didn't shrivel up.  The story would have ended right there if he had.  And we all know there is more to the story.

Instead, he flopped almost senselessly forward, to lie on her belly, which made a wonderfully soft bed, as her bounteous silky breasts made equally wonderful pillows for his head.

She recovered first, as often happens when a man and woman are involved in something like this.  She looked down at the little man draped across her front.  Her pussy was still giving luscious little squeezes to the thing that had brought her more pleasure than she could remember.

"Magic he may be," she thought, letting one large hand stroke his tousled hair.  "But definitely a man.  He lies there spent, just like I've heard."  Her next thought was fortunate for Jack.  "Small though he is, he's a lot more fun than a carrot.  I believe I'll keep him."

She was distracted by the faint sound of a male voice, singing so off-key that she wasn't sure what the tune was supposed to be.  There were the even fainter vibrations of his feet hitting the ground hard.

"My brother!" she thought.   She looked at the cuckoo clock, just in time to see a bird that, had Jack seen it, he might have thought was a hawk, pop out and sing "cuckoo" five times.

Where had the time gone?  While she was engaged in such a lovely pastime, the sun had moved much more than she knew, and now her brother was coming home!  Frantically she scooped up the little man.  His penis was once again a wee little thing.  She looked around quickly.  There was no place to put him!  She spied the oven.  It would be warm, but there was no help for it.  She opened the door and stuffed him inside.  She left the door open a bit, so that he wouldn't cook.  At least not right away.

She was dressed when he tromped into the house.  He stomped everywhere, like a little boy.  It was something she hadn't been able to break him of.  She was glad this time, though, since it had given her warning of his arrival.  She was stirring the porridge as he walked in, her voluminous skirts blocking his view of the partially open oven door.  The last thing she needed now was him looking in the oven to see if there were rolls there.  There should have been, but she had used the time it took to make them for other things...delightful things.

Jack roused himself and his mind cleared.  He heard a horrible racket, that sounded like tubas and saxophones all playing off-key.  He felt a rhythmic vibration that went with loud thumps, as if an elephant were jumping up and down, somehow.

He looked around.  He recognized both the appliance he was inside and the skirts of the giantess he had just fucked blocking the opening of the door, through which he could probably crawl, if he got the chance.

He hoped he would get the chance.  She had been quite happy with him, but who understood the sensibilities of giants?  She might be just as happy filling her belly with his flesh, through her mouth, as filling it with his spunk, via her pussy.  There were stories about giants...and they weren't very pleasant ones.

"FEE FIE FOE FUM!" came a loud growling voice.  "I SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ENGLISHMAN!"  Jack peeked past Dinah's skirts.  He saw a very ugly, very tall, very fat and quite bald giant.  He cringed.  This HAD to be Dinah's brother.

It got worse.

"Be he 'live, or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread!" roared the giant.

Jack paled.  This wasn't looking good at all.

 "Oh Mortimer!" sighed Dinah.  "You're always so theatrical about the English.  Why do you hate them so?"

"If you'd had arrows shot in your arse you'd hate 'em too," growled the giant.

"Mortimer?" though Jack.  He grinned.  As scary as the giant looked, with a name like Mortimer it was practically impossible for Jack to think he was really that fierce.

"Well, if you hadn't gone down there and tromped through their gardens, and squashed their cabbages, they might not have shot at you!" said Dinah.

"Maybe," grumbled Mortimer.  "But I knows what I smells.  There's one of them fuckin' Englishmen in here somewhere.  Where are the mouse traps?  I'll catch the little bastard."

Jack tensed.   He hadn't thought of mice.  In this setting, they'd be as big as a dog!

"There's no Englishman, Mortimer," Dinah lied flatly.  "It's just some new spices I'm trying out in the stew.  Sit down.  I want you to try it.  I worked on it all day.

Jack fanned his face.  He had to stand to the far side of the oven, because the fire box was on the other side.  He was roasting, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.  When Dinah moved, to feed good old Mort, he could see better, and more air got into the oven through the partially open door.  He took a chance while her body blocked the view of her brother and clambered out, to hide behind one of the legs of the stove.  He had to crouch down, but it was cooler.

"Bread!" growled Mortimer.  He got up and came toward the stove.

"NO!" squealed Dinah, her face going pale.

Mortimer turned.  "No?  You always make me rolls, Dinah."

"Not today!" she gasped.  "It took too long to make the stew.  Isn't it tasty?  I'm sure it has ground Englishmen's bones in it.  I got it from Hazel and she hates the little folk too."

"Not even one left over from yesterday?" complained Mortimer.  He bent over, opened the oven and peered inside.  "Guess not," he sighed.  He stood and slammed the door closed.

Jack could see Dinah's eyes, which were as round as the saucers his mother served tea on at home...when there was tea to brew.

"The porridge is good," admitted Mortimer, sitting back down.  "But your old porridge is good too, and I do like my rolls."

"Certainly, dear brother," squeaked Dinah, relaxing.  She looked around, trying to spot Jack.  He didn't want her to give his location away, so he crawled back against the wall at the rear of the stove.  He was a little amazed to find that Mort was her brother, instead of her husband.

They didn't look a thing alike!

Jack woke with a start.  He must have fallen asleep.  He wasn't too surprised.  His belly was full, and it was warm under the stove.  He crawled forward to see what the lay of the land was like, so to speak.

At first he thought it must be raining.  There was thunder.  Then he realized it was too regular a sound, coming at even intervals.  He peeked from under the stove and saw Mortimer, with his arms on the table, and his head on his arms, fast asleep.  He was snoring.

Jack looked around.  Dinah was nowhere in sight.  This was his chance.  He crawled out from under the stove and stood, which put his head just above the height of the table.  The glint of gold caught his eye, and his breath caught in his chest.  There was a pile of golden coins on the table.  Mortimer had apparently been counting them...stacking them up...and had fallen asleep while doing so.

Jack's eyes glittered just like the gold.  There was more there than he could have imagined.  There were two leather bags lying on the table, too.

He couldn't resist.

He crawled up onto the chair Dinah had been sitting in earlier.  Stealthily he reached for one of the bags.  It was about the size of a small gunny sack.  Carefully he began reaching for coins, taking one at a time, and putting them gently in the bag.  Each coin was about the size of a largish tomato slice, and by the time he had twenty of them in the bag, he knew it was about all he could carry.  The bag would hold much more, but he knew he already had what must be a king's ransom, so he climbed down off the chair.  When he picked up the bag the coins shifted and there was a soft clink.

He froze.

But the snoring went on.  He tiptoed to the door and set the bag down gently.  He wished he could say goodbye to Dinah.  She had made him a man, after all, as ironic as that seemed—what with her being so big, and him so small.  With something like bravery, he tiptoed towards the bedroom.  He could hear her heavy breathing too, indicating she was asleep.  He saw the handful of beans she had harvested, lying on the night stand.  If he woke her, she might exclaim and wake Mort.

He stuffed his pockets with beans, tiptoed back to the front door, retrieved what he now thought of as his bag of gold, and slipped out.  He left the door ajar, rather than chancing the sound of the latch waking Mortimer.

His climb down the beanstalk went much faster than his climb up had gone.  A lot of that was caused by the weight of the leather bag, which was slung over his shoulder, using the ties as a strap.  The rest of it was giddy terror that he'd be caught.  When he got to the bottom, and looked around in the moonlight, everything appeared completely normal.

He thought about things.  He had enough gold to last his family forever.  He had more of the magic beans.  He didn't know what he'd do with them, but they were obviously worth a lot.  He looked up at the beanstalk.  What he could climb down, Mortimer might be able to climb down too.

He went to the shed for the axe.

Jack was pretty sure his mother wouldn't believe his story.  He'd heard lots of stories about witches and giants and fairies and such, but he'd never seen any real evidence to support them.  And, while he now had such evidence, even that might not be enough to convince his mother about the truth of his adventure.

So he added the beans in his pocket to the gold, tied it all up, and hid it in the shed.  Then he went in the house.  A whole day seemed to have passed, since he’d been thrown out.  He took the chance that all was forgiven, took off his clothes, and climbed into bed beside Coreen.  She murmured, and moved, but didn't awaken.

For once, he didn't get a stiffy.

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