Purple Haze
Part 1: Soft Landing



Dan Peters entered the lounge in the Gerania Inner-Planetary Hotel. It was late afternoon and the place was nearly empty, which suited him fine. After the long haul on the Stellar Liner, he wanted uncrowded space and a cold Lixturn beer.

As with most space lounges, the actual bar was a trapezoid island centered in the room. Each side served a different quadrant. While the bar surface was level throughout, the floors were staggered two to fifty feet below the bar to accommodate galactic travelers of almost any stature. As an Earthling, Peters fit most comfortably in Section C, which bordered Section A - home of the largest creatures, and Section D - an area reserved for the diminutive.

Peters had come to Gerania to scout locations and contract local suppliers for his next production. Despite a boom twenty year ago, the local economy had fallen on hard times. Peters believed that bringing the key players here and farming out the rest locally would reduce expenses by 18% or more. Tomorrow, he would begin screening crews. For now, he wanted to review his notes and enjoy the beer.

"Mr. Peters?"

He looked up and found the woman who belonged to the voice. He was glad to discover that she was a fellow Earthling.

"Mr. Peters, I am exactly the person you're looking for."

The woman sat at the corner of the bar, about twelve stools away. She was attractive, auburn-haired and in her late twenties. She wore an oversized black jacket over a lose black pullover which combined to reveal very little of her figure. It never goes away, he thought. No matter where you are, people in the Biz always have to dress in black.

"That's amazing," he said. "Even I don't know who I'm looking for yet."

"You may not have a name - mine's Casey Lott by the way. But if you're planning to shoot a production here, you need someone who knows the local players. And if you don't want to get burned, you've got the only name you need to know."

He smiled.

"Is that so. Okay, tell me a good place to eat"

"Depends," she said. "You looking for pricey, casual or rowdy?"

"I'm looking for good, Ms. Lott. You hungry?"

The question caught her off-guard, but she managed to get out a "Sure."

"Great. I know it's early, but I'm starved." He rose and settled his tab. "You pick the place."

"You're sure about this," she asked. A wide grin crossed her face.

"Hundred percent," he replied.

"You're on," she said. "Before we go, though, I have something for you to see."

She gestured for him to come over, and, as he moved toward her, it finally registered. She wasn't sitting on his side of the bar; Casey Lott was seated at the corner of Section A. By the time he reached the railing dividing the two vastly different sections, her grin had become an uncontained chuckle.

"Ta da," she said.

She spread her arms in mock ring-master fashion, then rose. And rose. And rose. Peters was not only looking up, he was leaning back by the time she reached her full height. He could only speculate at how many feet she added up to. Fifty? One hundred? She was beyond tall. He stepped back to regain his balance, then took a step forward and peered over the rail. The floor of Section A lie far below him. At least thirty feet down, he guessed. And yet - he looked in the direction of Casey Lott - his six-foot, two-inch frame barely reached above her knee. Her knees were lowering, though, and the scene before him was giving way to a descending wall of black as her skirt fell into view like a stage curtain lowering at the end of a play.

"Actually, what I wanted to show you is this."

The curtain kept descending and started to gain definition. Riding on top was the long neck and big-screen face of Casey Lott. She had knelt down, and was pulling open one side of her jacket. The figure that wasn't revealed before became monumentally apparent. Peters now faced her breasts, or at least part of a breast, because what bulged from beneath her pullover was considerably larger than his entire body.

"I never thought to bring a sleeve pouch," she said. "You won't mind riding in here, will you?"

Peters stared at her breast. Yes, he thought, it's probably possible.

"No," she said. "Over here."

He turned. Her hand was pointing to the inside pocket of her jacket.

"You know," he said, "maybe it would be better if . . ."

"Oh, no. I definitely intend to take you up on dinner."

A flesh-colored field passed quickly through the wall of black. He felt something tighten around his body, holding him from knee to chest. There was a slight tug as his feet left the ground, then the floor began falling away. The black curtain seemed to be in motion again, passing beneath his view to reveal Casey Lott's smiling face.

"And I have a feeling you're going to enjoy it."

Peters was too distracted to respond. He was looking down at the thick barkless logs pressed across his chest. No, he realized, they were the fingers of an enormous hand, and they were transporting him toward a sea of black. The pressure around him suddenly released and he slipped off the hand landing on uncertain ground. Only the fabric behind him kept him from falling back. Peters turned to examine it. It couldn't be, he thought. Was he actually standing in her pocket? A moment later, he felt himself sway and had his answer. He was in complete darkness, but there was no mistaking the enormous mass pressing against him. It was Casey Lott's softly heaving breast.



# # #



Part 2: Dessert Counts



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.



# # #



Part 3: Booby Traps



So what do you do after the best sex in your life? Dan Peters would have preferred a good night's sleep, but the gigantic woman holding him had other ideas. Casey Lott carried him from the bedroom and set him down in the adjacent room. He remained naked, even though she had yet to remove more than her shoes.

He took in the huge furnishings of her living room, and wondered why they weren't towering over him like skyscrapers in a city. He looked at his feet, and realized he was standing on a table.

"I'll get us something to drink," she said.

"Wait." He looked up at Casey. "I haven't been on solid ground since I met you. Mind if I get on the floor and look around?"

"Sure."

She set him on the floor, where a 12 x 12-inch pillar immediately caught his attention. He took a step toward it and nearly lost his balance. His trailing foot had caught in one of the piles of the thick carpet. As he shook it lose, he spotted another pillar identical to the first. He followed it up, and, seeing a pair of matching columns behind it, realized the set formed the legs of the table he had just left.

"How goes the adventure," boomed a voice from above. "You didn't get very far."

Looking at Casey Lott from the floor was like gazing at the high-noon sun. Peters had to look straight up before he found her face. He offered a wave, and followed the shape of her body down to the floor. There, he found a foot as wide as an old-town street. He walked up to it in increasing awe. The ankle was even with his hip and her shin rose out of the anchoring foot like a massive oak. Standing next to her, he barely reached the base of her calf.

"Don't move," he heard her call out from above. "Just stay right there."

Like an old, solid-fuel rocket, the foot lifted off. It rose straight up, crossed over him and landed with a thud twenty feet away. Then the other foot rose and turned into a blur, not regaining its shape until it landed twenty feet further out. She was walking, Peters realized, toward the row of two-story townhouses at the end of the room. No, it was the couch he had seen from the table above. She stopped before the sofa and set something down, then turned and retraced her steps.

"I'm not sure this floor thing is such a good idea," she said.

"Hold it," he cried, raising his arms. "Just stand right there."

She could barely hear him, but his raised arms made her stop. "What's wrong, Dan?"

He cupped his hands to his mouth. "Nothing. "This is the first time I've really seen you. All of you, I mean. All at once. My God, you must be a hundred feet tall."

She laughed. "No, not quite."

"Not quite? What do you mean not quite? You're a goddamn goddess, Casey."

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you very much. But Dan, I'm not actually a goddess." She stepped closer, knelt down and continued in her best conspiratorial tone. "I'm just a really big girl."

"Yea, but I'm just your average guy. I mean Casey, look at you. Why even bother with me?"

"Because you're a producer, dummy," she said with a laugh.

She reached out and scooped him up.

"And because you can't stop staring at my breasts," she teased. "Believe me, a good boob man is so hard to find.

"But mostly, because I think you're kindda cute. No, I think you're really cute. Okay?

With that, she took him to the couch, set him on the cushion and gave him a glass of wine. Then she removed her jacket, peeled off her top and plunked herself on the floor in front of him. At the sight the exposed brassier, Peters nearly choked on his wine. Each of the twin cups was the size of a gazebo.

"Oh? Not to your taste," she asked with a wicked grin she knew he wouldn't see.

Peters swallowed. Hard.

"I was wondering," she said. "Mind helping me out again? There's a clasp down there, think you can undo it for me?"

Peters suddenly found himself standing in the shadows as she leaned closer and swung the daunting brassiere over his head. Centered on the base of the garment, tight against her chest, was not one but a set of three old-fashioned, interlocking metal clasps. Unlike the merely annoying connectors of old, these booby traps were enough to inspire celibacy; each one of the U-shaped links was nearly the size of a snowshoe.

"She's gotta be kidding," Peters said to himself. He reached up, spread his arms wide and grabbed the fabric on either side of the clasps from hell. He pulled until his arms shook, but nothing budged. His next assault centered on a single clasp, but the outcome was virtually the same. Finally, he pulled himself up by the top edge of the fabric between the breasts. He gained a foothold on a link attached to the underlying layer of fabric, then grabbed the overlapping flap, which caused him to lean outward until he looked like a waterskier, sideways, on her calm torso.

Pushing with his legs and pulling with his arms, Peters started gaining enough slack for the clasps to release. It took a do-or-die effort, but the three guardians began to slip their hold. As the last two links were ready to part, the bra exploded open and swung out like a sail on an unsecured boom. Peters went flying and crashed into the seat of the couch, with Casey's unleashed breast following close behind. It slammed down and buried him deep in the cushion. The massive breast settled on top of him, easily pinning him from head to toe and side to side under its staggering weight. Peters attempted to slide free, but it held him in place. Then he felt it quaking. Slowly the weight released, emitting the sound of Casey's full-tilt giggle.

"Nice job, Matie," she said.

He sat up as she leaned back, her unrestrained breasts now bounding in full display.

They were huge. Period. They weren't just huge to him, they were huge on her - expanding geometrically from her chest in every direction. Casey was so well-endowed that if she were a normal-sized woman, the sight of her would compel Earth's largest-busted stripper to hang up her bra. In fact, the nipples alone were larger than most womens' breasts. For some reason, though, Peters found himself comparing the twin planets to the large, walk-in closet in his hotel suite. If Casey were to lift off its eight-foot-high ceiling (as only she could), and lower just one of her fabulous breasts into the compartment, she would overwhelm the space and burst the walls without even taking a breath.

While Peters watched, she slipped off the shoulder straps and let the bra fall away. Even unsupported, her womanhood jutted outward in a clear challenge to gravity. Casey ran her fingers through her hair and leaned back on her arms, lowering herself until the top slope of her breasts were level with the seat of the couch. Then she angled closer until her nipple nearly brushed the side.

"Care to hop on?

Peters continued to stare. The top plane of her awaiting orb was larger than a king-sized mattress. Nearly twice as long, in fact, and half again as wide. As it gently rose and fell, he became entranced in its rhythm.

"Ahem," she said.

Peters stood and started for the edge of the couch. As he did, her heaving mass loomed up too, rising until the protruding nipple was level with his face.

"Oh Dan," she said. "I just can't wait any longer. I need you to touch it."

Cautiously, he reached a hand toward the center of her aureole, its diameter equal to the size of an open umbrella.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "Use both hands. And squeeze. Really squeeze hard."

Peters complied, and almost immediately he heard a soft moan.

"Oh, that helps," she said. "Do it again."

Peters responded by kissing the tip and massaging the great nipple. Within moments, there was another long moan and the burgeoning knob began to expand in his hand.

"Don't stop," she pleaded from above.

He began licking and squeezing until he heard a powerful grunt and the nipple lurched from his grasp.

"Oh, that was great," she said as she caught her breath. "Phew. You can't imagine how much it turns me on to have someone undress me like that."

She dropped her head back and stretched, oblivious to the fact that her pose was the most spectacular vista Peters had ever beheld. Eyeing him, she swung her breast back to the couch and beckoned him to board.

"Are you kidding about this," he asked.

"Trust me, Dan. Just jump."

He let, landing in a crouch that caused him to fall forward as the soft flesh gave way under his feet. Even fully extended, he barely spanned half the length of the giant's ample breast, which also provided enough room to roll twice in either direction with little danger of slipping over the side.

"Home at last, eh." She chuckled. "Now hang on. We need more wine, and this time I'm not leaving you on the floor."

He rode to the kitchen and back sprawled across her warm, bounding flesh. The journey stirred new life into Peters' dormant penis, a development that did not go unnoticed by Casey. As she settled into the couch, she asked, "Is that for me?"

He rose to his knees and extended his arms, palm out, in a bid for mercy.

"No way, Casey. I'm done. After what you did to me tonight, I should be on the fifteen-day disabled list."

She said nothing, but her face took on an innocent pout.

"Oh c'mon Casey," he said.

The pout stood pat. Then she gave her breasts a little shake, which registered as a low-grade earthquake by the time it reached Peters.

"Cheap shot," he protested as he rocked from side to side.

She chuckled. "I know. But look. You're harder."

He saw she was right, and realized he was losing his case.

"Not the best defense, is it?"

She gathered the underside of her breast and lifted, bringing it - and him - closer to her lips. She leaned in and kissed him, letting her teeth rake lightly across his pecs.

"Looks more like the sincerest form of flattery to me," she whispered.

As she slowly released her breast, Peters realized there was little to do except throw up his arms in surrender.

"You're such a doll," she said. With a sudden breath, she send his weight forward, plopping him penis-first into her yielding flesh.

"Mum," she moaned. "That feels good. Slide down. Let me feel you rub against me."

Peters began to push himself along her. He had barely slid back a foot when he heard another moan.

"Keep going," she whispered.

He slid down the length of her breast until his legs hung over the edge. He curled his arms around the yielding flesh and pushed further, not stopping until his testicles rested on Casey's giant nipple.

"Just a little more," she said.

Peters took another grip and descended further, her hardened knob pressing against the backside of his penis.

"While you're there," she said with a shudder, "why don't you come in?"

"In your nipple?"

"Go ahead, you'll fit"

She was right, of course. He angled his erect member against her much larger one and probed the dimple on its tip. It admitted him readily. He thrust deeper until he was consumed within her. He drew back and penetrated the enveloping warmth again and again. The thought that he was having intercourse with her nipple brought him to ejaculation in moments.

"No, no, don't stop," he heard her say.

Suddenly, she gave out a deafening moan and held him to her breast.

Casey rolled over and kneeled on the sofa, her hand pressing Peters deeper and deeper as she caressed her heaving bosom. She let out an involuntary moan and stretched into an arch, letting her hands fall away. Both breasts soared in arousal, the taught flesh prying open Peters' grip. He slipped slowly from the face of the breast until a sudden heave cast him into a free fall. He dropped, but no more than a few inches. The giant nipple that contained him had tightened, too. It was firmly clamped around his stem and Peters was dangling - hands free and helpless - from Casey's tip as her mighty orgasm whipped him back and forth into the forgiving walls of her swinging breasts. Her screams filled the room, but Peters barely heard them; his own predicament was inducing him to ejaculate again and again.

Finally, Casey gave out a deep powerful moan. Almost instantly, her nipple relaxed and Peters slipped out, plunging toward the couch forty feet below.

The landing came quickly, and softly too.

"It's okay," he heard her say breathlessly. Then he felt her fingers close around him as he started to ascend the route of his fall.

Casey was gulping, trying to regain her breath.

"Oh my," she said at last. "That was good for me, how 'bout you."

Peters felt for his heart. "Holy shit," he said Then he fainted.

Casey smiled at the collapsed body in her hand. She stroked it gently as a hazy, purplish mist began to surround her.

"Dear, dear Dan," she whispered to herself. "Now you know what it's like to pass out in my hand too."