Jack and the Beanstalk - Adult Version (A twisted fairy tale)

Jack and the Beanstalk

A Twisted Fairy Tale

by Robert Lubrican

zbookstore Edition

Copyright 2010 Robert Lubrican

2^nd edition 2025

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to zbookstore.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Table of Contents

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen

Fourteen | Fifteen | Epilogue | Afterword

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Foreword

Most of the Lubrican fractured fairy tales reside within three volumes. This one, however, turned out to be too long to put anything else with, and it is for that reason that it is presented alone. Like the other tales, though, it goes way beyond the original story in terms of presenting an alternative view of events ... a view that makes a lot more sense to the author than the original story, passed down all these years. Of course there are many who feel the author might benefit from his very own rubber room. In any case, here, for your enjoyment is the fantastic (real) story of Jack, his magic beans, and what those beans are actually responsible for in the world we all live in today.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter One

You've all heard the tale. You heard it as a wee child, no doubt, about how some beans got dropped on the ground and there grew from those beans a giant beanstalk, which Jack climbed up and so on and so forth.

And some of what you heard was true. But there was much you didn't hear, because the goodwives of the little village where Jack lived suppressed it ... censored it. They forbade that it be told.

Those frowning women enforced a ban on talking about it. They didn't mind using the rod to enforce it either, which is why no one knew the whole truth of the matter ... until now.

You see, the only person they couldn't control was Jack himself. And Jack, as it turned out, kept a journal of his exploits. That journal lay hidden in a clay pot sealed with wax drippings until, quite by accident, it was dug up by the plow of a farmer. That was many, many years later, after the land Jack had lived on changed hands many, many times.

That farmer had no idea that the ground he was plowing had once been the foundation of Jack's house, now long gone. He was a simple man, who hadn't learned his letters. When he found the pot, with the book inside, he thought only to keep the pot, which was fine work, and use the pages of the book to start his evening fire in the stove in his house.

How that journal was saved would make a story of its own, but we'll skip over that part. Suffice it to say that the traveler who sheltered in the old farmer's hut that night and who saw the journal and glanced through it, took action. He would not allow it to be burned and paid a full copper penny to procure ownership of it.

Now I, your humble author, have possession of the journal. And I paid much more for it, so listen closely to the whole truth behind Jack and the beans that changed his life forever.

An admission is necessary, before we begin. Jack was a smart lad, but spare with the stub of pencil he had to write with and the few pages he had upon which to write. Some small license has been taken to flesh out his comments.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

At the time his journal begins Jack was a lad of but eighteen summers. He lived with his mother, Elizabeth, and his sister, Coreen, who was one year older than Jack. They resided in a small village in England, far off the beaten path from anywhere, it seemed.

Jack's father was a farmer by necessity rather than choice, which is to say his parents told him he was a farmer and that was that. Apparently he became less sure they were right over time because about the time Jack was ten, Farmer Spriggins announced that he was going away to find his fortune, which he apparently thought had been lost somewhere. Since he never returned, it is unlikely that he found more than he left, but of that nothing is known.. The point is that Jack was left to become, at the tender age of ten, the man of the family and since then Elizabeth had eked out a spare living by doing the laundry of those in the village who worked from dawn to dusk in the fields and had neither time nor energy to wash their own clothes.

Now Jack had all the interests of any young man. His problem, as it turned out, was that he had no way to pursue those interests.

For example, both of the women living in the house with him were quite comely. His mother had dark, almost black hair that hung clear to her heart-shaped buttocks when it was down at night. She had been blessed with full, firm breasts, upon which lay brown nipples that were stiff and erect at all times. Her skin, save that of her hands, was as pale as cotton. That her ribs showed was only because there was so little to eat in the house, and not a result of breeding.

Coreen inherited her mother's body, if not her looks. Coreen's hair was as yellow as barley ready for the harvest. She didn't wear it up, like her mother, but gathered it behind her and tied it with ribbons, every six inches or so. Like her mother, she had wonderful, large breasts, but the nipples that graced them were of shocking pink. Her skin was darker by a few shades than her mother's, and her ribs did not show, because Elizabeth, while she would deny her own hunger, tried never to give her children less than was needed for strong bodies.

That Jack knew these things is not so odd, by virtue of the fact that their hovel had but one large room, with one large straw mattress upon the old wooden bed frame. All in the house bathed in the big tub beside the stove and modesty was a luxury they couldn't afford.

The Spriggins women were, in fact, so beautiful that they were virtual outcasts in the village. The myth of lost fortunes was pervasive in that village, as evidenced by the fact that the young men always went off to find their fortunes, usually in a city. A few went adventuring, perhaps. The point is that the only men around were those who were married and anchored to the home, where their hardworking and well worn wives were their companions. Many a man's eye wandered toward the hut of the Spriggins women, which raised the ire of their wives. An angry woman can make the life of her man a living hell and it wasn't long before men no longer looked at ... nor talked to ... the Spriggins women.

Jack, of course, was exposed to the two beauties all the time and could do nothing about it. He didn't go to school, which meant he rarely got the chance to engage girls his own age in anything resembling normal social interplay, so it is understandable that when his thoughts drifted to things amorous they became incestuous as well. At the same time, being raised in a normal world, he also felt it was uncouth to dream of doing the things with them that a young man often dreams of doing with a woman.

Jack, himself, was as uninteresting as his female relatives were spectacular. Though not slight of frame, the muscles he had were a gift of birth rather than from using them often. He was of average height and average build with an unkempt shock of brown hair that his mother cut at with a knife, every so often, but usually gave up on when he wouldn't sit still.

And Jack never sat still for long. His mother and sister thought he was just full of energy and bemoaned that fact on numerous occasions when Jack got into trouble. He did his chores, but somehow seemed always to be able to find trouble while doing so, whether it be stealing an apple from Mr. Brimley's orchard, trying to sneak a pie from the cooling shelf of the baker's window, or chasing the girls and lifting their skirts.

But Jack wasn't simply full of nervous energy. Indeed, the lack of modesty in the house left him full of energy of a different kind. As he grew and viewed the private treasure that was so openly displayed in the house, he found that it caused ... difficulties.

Such difficulties began one night when he climbed into bed with his mother and sister and, to his unending surprise, the thing that usually hung limply between his thighs grew strong and straight, like a stick of wood. It being summer, and none of them having on nightclothes, this surprising development was impossible to hide.

Not that he would have hidden it. He was fascinated by it, actually, and placed his hand upon it as a natural result of examining it.

"What are you doing?" asked Coreen.

"Look at my pecker!" gasped Jack. "It's gone stiff!"

"What?" yelled his mother, who was on the other side of Coreen.

She sat up and viewed the subject under discussion.

"You stop that this instant!" cried the poor woman.

"Stop what, mother?" asked Jack, his hand gripping the stiff column of flesh that jutted from his loins.

"Stop touching it!" she wailed. "You'll go blind as a bat!"

"Keep that thing away from me!" shouted Coreen. "It's bad enough there are no men to marry in this horrid place. Be careful where you aim that, lest it get me with child and I remain unwed my entire life!"

"Go outside and make it go down!" ordered his mother, who, truth be known, had not removed her eyes from it since she first sat up. It had been many years since she had seen a thing such as had brought her the only pleasure she could now remember in her sad, hard life.

Poor Jack. He had no idea of how it had gotten this way, much less how to make it return to normal. He did get up, and he did go outside, but his penis remained as rigid as ever. Finally, he went back in.

"Mother, I don't know how to make it go away," he moaned.

Elizabeth covered her eyes with a hand. "Well I certainly can't help you. Coreen! Help your brother!"

"Me?" squealed the girl. "I'll not touch it. I've never touched one in my life!"

"Well, then," said her mother, "it's high time you did so you'll know what to do with one should you be so lucky as to find a man."

"But I don't know what to do with it," moaned Coreen. "All I know is that you told me how dangerous they are!"

"Oh all right!" snapped Elizabeth. "I'll show you, but one time only!"

What transpired then was to change Jack's life in many ways. He was made to stand beside the bed, where both women knelt in front of him. The first touch of his mother's hand on his newly stiff member was electric in its intensity. Then he almost swooned as that hand slid ... inward, stretching the loose skin around the tip until it seemed almost to break. Surprisingly, it slid effortlessly past the crown, before she pulled it back toward them, covering the tip again.

She did but three short strokes in the time it took Jack to suck his lungs so full of air that they felt like they'd burst. Then she turned it over to Coreen.

"Like that," she said, somewhat breathlessly. It had been some time since she'd touched one herself, and she found it entirely too much to her liking.

Coreen's hand had a completely different feel. Coreen's hands had not yet suffered from repeated immersion into harsh, soapy water like his mother's, which were rough to the touch. Coreen's hand was soft and warm. She gave the thing three or four tentative strokes.

"This isn't so bad," she said softly. "I rather like its feel."

"You'll like it a lot more in another ..." Elizabeth's lips sealed tightly, before she could utter the final word: "place."

"When will it stop being so long ... and warm ... and hard?" asked Coreen, as her hand seemed to get the hang of stroking smoothly.

A long stream of white jetted from the tip of the organ, splattering all over Coreen's pale breasts. One nipple all but disappeared in the deluge, as another spurt followed the first, and then two more followed that one.

"About now," sighed Elizabeth, who had not had a man, nor seen sperm in more than five years.

Jack sat down hard on the dirt floor, which hurt his naked buttocks quite a bit.

"Oh my!" he sighed, ignoring the pain in his behind and concentrating on the delicious feeling in his penis.

Elizabeth's hands darted to press against her daughter's chest and came away thick with white spunk. She rubbed her hands together industriously.

"Tis excellent for the skin, as I recall," she said, wiping her hands against her breasts for good measure. "Rub it in, dear, but keep it away from between your legs."

"Ooooo," complained Coreen, who looked down at the mess on the front of her body. "It's warm, but looks loathsome."

"That, my dear, is what makes a woman's belly swell until it fairly bursts with a child in it." Her mother's voice was heavy with the gravity of her warning.

"Seems a messy way of making a baby," complained Coreen, who was trying to wipe the stuff into her skin, with little success.

"It's not messy at all, when a man spurts it up inside you," said Elizabeth, remembering the feeling of that.

"I don't see how that could be." Her daughter sounded unconvinced. "Surely that thing wouldn't fit inside a woman."

"When the time comes, daughter, it will fit. Believe me. You'll find that it fits well ... and often, if you're lucky."

Then they all went back to bed, and finally to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

That incident changed things in the household. Not that there was any increase in modesty. Things went on as usual in that way and Jack was exposed to the naked bodies of his mother and sister regularly.

What changed was that his reaction to that, which was just as regular, got him tossed outside, where he was expected to deal with the problem himself. Coreen said it was too messy and his mother refused to touch him. He was told to handle things himself ... quite literally ... threat of blindness or not.

And so Jack learned to get himself off, which some scholars credit as the original basis for the term "jack off," though this author views that theory with some skepticism.

All things considered, it wouldn't have been a miserable life except for the fact that Jack found himself needing to jack off rather more frequently than once a day. All he had to do was look at his mother or sister and imagine it was bed time and ... presto.

It was for this reason that Mrs. Twilby, the candle maker's wife, was exposed to the sight of Jack ... jacking off ... in the middle of the day ... as she brought her laundry to the Spriggins house.

Well, to say that things went suddenly downhill is shortchanging the vituperative manner in which Mrs. Twilby described the incident to her friends. She claimed the boy exposed himself intentionally. Somehow, in the telling, she embellished a bit, describing her frantic avoidance of the lusty young man, and the frenzied actions she took to preserve her virtue from the slavering satyr she described the boy to be.

The amount of laundry Elizabeth had to do dropped sharply.

In the end, the cupboard was bare and Elizabeth was forced to send Jack off with the family cow, to sell it to obtain enough money to keep them from starving. That it was a long journey and that the cow had a habit of biting didn't bother Elizabeth at all.

After all, it was Jack's fault that this had to be done.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Jack trudged along, his spirits sagging, pulling on the frayed rope that went round the cow's neck. He was feeling very sorry for himself indeed. He was, therefore, both surprised and happy when he saw a traveler in the distance, coming toward him.

Strangers were a rare and always happy occasion, for they had news of the world outside and sometimes a good story or two to tell, so Jack's step quickened.

The stranger turned out to be a queer looking fellow, all draped in a long cloak, with a hood over his head and a stoop to his body, suggesting great age.

"Whither goest thou, boy?" came a gravelly voice from within the hood.

That also suggested great age. Nobody talked like that anymore.

"I'm off to sell the family cow so that we can get money so that we can get food so that we won't starve," said Jack.

"A poor plan, methinks," said the old man. "What wilst thou do when the money is all spent?"

"I imagine we'll starve," said Jack, who wasn't stupid.

"Perhaps I canst remedy your dilemma." The voice was soft.

"How so?" Jack was interested, but kept an eye on the cow, which was edging toward him, its lips quivering.

"I possess five magic beans," said the old man. "I'll trade thee my beans for the cow, which I canst ride, to save my feet. Thou canst plant the beans, which will flourish beyond thy wildest dreams, and have much to eat."

"Magic beans?"

"Most powerfully magic."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Now Jack had dreams. Always before they had been only that - dreams. But now, as he hurried back home, flush with excitement, he was sure that since he had procured the magic beans in his pocket, his mother would be so pleased that ... perhaps ... she might ease the stiffness in his penis that night.

Alas, her reaction was not what he had dreamed.

She was irate. She screamed at him. She took the beans from his hand and flung them toward the little round window in the wall of the cottage.

One went through, the other four bounced off the wall. As his mother stormed away from him, still screaming at him for being duped, he found the four beans he still believed were magic and put them back in his pocket. He couldn't find the one that went through the window. It had been lost in the grass.

His mother's rage lasted long and he was forbidden to sleep in the bed with them that night.

"Lie upon the cold, hard ground!" shouted his mother. "Soon you'll be under the cold, hard ground! That's where we'll all be in a very short time, thanks to your stupidity!"

Coreen chimed in. "Yes, your stupidity!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He couldn't sleep.

It wasn't fair.

He resolved to run away.

He made it ten feet outside the cottage, in the dark, when he smashed into a tree.

"Except" ... he thought to himself as he sat on the hard, cold ground ... "there is no tree right there."

He got up and, in the moonlight, perceived the leafy thick vine that had ... magically ... sprouted and grown in but a few tens of minutes. It was as thick as a tree, and went up as far as he could see. Somewhere up there were pods ... and those pods would contain more beans.

He would show her. He would show them both. He'd climb that vine, harvest some beans, and then they'd have something to eat in the morning. They'd have to apologize to him!

He climbed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

"Tis indeed strong magic!" thought Jack. He had been climbing for what seemed like a long time and ever upwards stretched the beanstalk. He stopped to rest. He was hungry. 'While I have yet to see a bean pod,' he thought, 'there are surely some up there somewhere and I have four beans in my pocket.'

He made a snack of one bean, nibbling around the edges until it cracked and he was able to consume it. It was dry and he wished he had something to drink with it but his stomach growled less so he climbed some more. It appeared to be morning because the light grew as he climbed, but he knew he had only been working his way upward for no more than an hour. It was odd, but then this whole beanstalk was odd.

He felt the wetness of mist and realized he had climbed clear into the clouds. Up this high it was daylight, for all intents and purposes. That helped, because the clouds shortened his view. He'd never known how thick clouds were, but was correct in assuming that, sooner or later, he'd climb out of the cloud. He was expecting that.

What he wasn't expecting was what he saw perched on top of the cloud he climbed out of. He stopped, staring in awe. It was a house ... a huge house ... and well-built in the Tudor style.

Now the reader may pause and think it odd that there could be a house sitting on a cloud. But remember Jack had been climbing a magic beanstalk, magic being the operative word here. And so, when Jack probed with his foot and found solid ground beneath the swirling mists a leg span from the stalk, he jumped and found himself walking on air. At least it looked like he was walking on air. Then an errant breeze parted the mist at his feet and he saw that there was indeed something solid beneath his feet.

He approached the huge house without fear. Jack had experienced nothing much in his short life that had caused fear in him. England, in those days, was a peaceful and mostly sedate place. Other than the odd dangerous spider there was really not much to fear, and if one was careful even spiders were not really a threat.

By stretching his arm upwards, he was able to reach the latch on the front door of the house. He lifted it and stepped into the dim interior.

It was fascinating. He felt a little like one of the dolls that Coreen had played with when he was younger. Everything looked perfectly normal, except for the fact that everything was just enough oversized that he didn't fit in well. There was a hearth he could walk into if he ducked a bit. There were chairs, and a table, and paintings hung on the wall. He couldn't get over how it looked like a doll house, with him as the doll, except that he was only half the size to fit in it properly.

His nose detected a delicious odor and he followed the scent to a kitchen. There, all semblance of normality was suspended.

It wasn't the accoutrements in the room that shocked him. It was the giant in the room that took care of that.

Well, it was the giantess in the room, to be precise. For the large person was undoubtedly female in form. And to set another myth straight, "giant" is probably not a fair word, at least not in terms of how they are usually portrayed.

This woman wasn't twenty feet tall. She was more likely about eight feet ten inches in height. Jack couldn't know it, but she was about average for a woman of her race ... or ethnicity ... or whatever one calls being a giant. Other than her amazing size she looked quite normal. That is to say that if she were walking toward you and was some distance away, you'd simply think she was closer to you than she was.

Her hair was a burnished brown that looked like copper mixed with brass and it hung wetly down about four feet or so. That was because she was in the process of washing it while a stew simmered on the stove. Jack's practiced eye viewed that stove with some discomfort. One of his tasks was keeping the wood pile at home well stacked, so that if they ever had any food his mother would be able to cook it. This stove, he noticed, would take a "stick" that might measure as much as three or four feet long, and as thick as Jack was around.

But he didn't spend much time looking at the stove. The giantess was much more interesting. She had, as it turned out, removed her dress while she washed her hair, so as not to get the garment wet. Bent over the sink the way she was, her truly astonishing breasts hung down such that if Jack walked under her, he'd need to duck.

Not that he'd want to. Those breasts looked just like others he'd seen as they wobbled enticingly while her hands scrubbed at her scalp. Jack observed that the nipples on those breasts were about the size of the thick end of a large carrot. His mouth watered at the thought of both carrots and of having that nipple in his mouth. He didn't question why he might wish to suck at that nipple. He simply recognized that such a thing might be possible.

The giant woman was standing with her legs spread. The usual description might be "shoulder's width apart," except that her shoulders were about the length from Jack's toes to his chest. In any case, she was unknowingly exposing to Jack a bush of hair that would decently cover a grown man's head, though the sight might be humorous. Imagine long, brown crinkly hair sprouting in all directions from a man's head. I'm sure I'd laugh, though it would be rude.

But what drew Jack's attention was the enormous pair of juicy looking pussy lips that drooped below that hair. They looked like bolts of velvet cloth, in a way, deep with rich color that ranged from maroon on the outside parts to something very close to pink where they gaped open slightly. It's understood that "gaped" and "slightly" used in conjunction like this is a poor description, but while by giant standards her vulva were slightly open, by Jack's standards they gaped wide. He stifled a hysterical giggle as the memory of the veterinarian's last visit came to him. The man had stuck his entire arm up the cow's rear end as part of his examination. Jack looked at his arm, and then at that vagina. It wasn't at all difficult to imagine he could do the same in this particular situation.

He felt a sudden pressure in his pants. It was accompanied by a feeling that he knew well ... a feeling of pleasure as he knew his prick was beginning to stiffen. He expected that, under the circumstances.

What he didn't expect was the result of his having consumed a magic bean, and the magic from that bean having gotten into his bloodstream.

The pressure grew and grew until he winced at the pain. Looking down, his eyes grew large as saucers. Some wild animal had taken refuge in his pants and was clawing its way out! There could be no other explanation for the immense bulge there. As he watched, the cloth of his trousers failed, and the beast sprang forth, seeking freedom.

There were, in the following few seconds of time, a variety of interesting results.

First, the pressure and pain vanished.

Second, Jack had to put one foot forward, to keep from falling down.

Third, and most important, Jack realized that what had burst forth through his shredded trousers was no animal. It was his pecker! He was quite sure of that, even though the thing jutting from his groin was now fully two feet long and as thick as his thigh. He stared at it as it bobbed gently before coming to rest. It was obvious that the weight of the thing was what was trying to pull him forward. But his thigh was running into something and he teetered alarmingly.

He moved his head sideways, to see what was making it difficult for him to move his foot forward. His balls had grown too! They appeared large enough to fill a bushel basket!

My apologies, dear reader. Even I, in my pursuit of the truth, can be tempted to overstate the facts. This is common when giant things are involved in a story. It is closer to the truth that Jack's balls were now the size of a well grown, if misshapen muskmelon.

In any case, the fourth result of this unfortunate situation was that the ripping of Jack's pants alerted the giantess that someone was in the kitchen with Dinah.

Her name, you see, was Dinah.

You can imagine her dismay when she was confronted with what appeared to be a toddler, who appeared to be toddling toward her, in fact, with a phallus that came from her dreams.

It was very unsettling.

"Who are you?" she thundered. Actually, she spoke in a quite normal, if surprised voice, but it sounded like thunder to Jack, who covered his ears and winced. He also started shaking like a leaf. Courage was not Jack's strong suit. As he had never been afraid, he'd never developed any courage either.

"J-J-Jack," he stammered.

"And where did you come from, J-J-Jack?" asked the woman, her tone lower.

Jack, who was shaking visibly now, was having trouble thinking. Suddenly the whole story of how he'd gotten here seemed like it would take too many words. He distilled it down to just one.

"M-m-magic?" he croaked.

Dinah took in the sight of the small person with the impressively large sexual organ, which seemed to be almost humming with energy as it shimmered back and forth.

"Well how about that!" she purred. "I was just thinking about how unhappy I am that I'm alone all day long, and what should pop up but my very own personal, talking vibrator!"

"V-v-vibrator?" stuttered Jack.

"And its voice even vibrates too!" said Dinah, happily.

She stepped forward and reached for him.

 

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 finished 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 finished," he gasped, quite honestly.

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

What had just happened to him had felt so good that he was very motivated to do it again.

"I'll try," sighed Jack.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

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 the wide spread lips of her sex. 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 ripe 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 phallus pushing the walls of her sheath 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 about ten 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. As her legs went suddenly wide and he could get a breath, 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 internal muscles were still giving luscious little squeezes to the thing that had brought her more pleasure than she could remember. Of course that wasn't difficult, since prior to meeting Jack, Dinah had never had anything other than her own fingers and the odd tubular shaped vegetable inside her.

'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 said. 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 the male giant 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. There were stories about giants ... and they weren't very pleasant ones.

"Fee, fie, fo, 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 around 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, carefully lifting 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.

 

Chapter Three

Money burns a hole in a young man's pocket, even if it's not actually in his pocket. And eventually he couldn't keep his secret any longer. He provided a seriously abbreviated version of events that involved a cave, the mouth of which was covered by a thicket of thorns. That also explained his ruined trousers, which his mother was very unhappy about. She assumed the worst about him too and suspected he had stolen the gold.

But, once Jack's mother got over the shock of seeing the strange gold coins - and once she let him come out from hiding, (after she was sure the sheriff wasn't going to show up looking for him) she calmed down a bit.

Elizabeth was smart enough to be wary of suddenly displaying wealth so they continued to live as they had for a while. She built a fire and melted down one of the coins, separating it into smaller bits with a stick. Those bits she traded for food, telling the vendor that a cherished heirloom had been melted down, rather than a giant coin.

They ate much better and Elizabeth got some cloth to make new dresses for herself and Coreen. The leather bag she used to make new pants for Jack, since his others were beyond repair.

It was Coreen who caused the trouble. Once she found out about the money she had visions of a dowry in her head, and of finding a handsome husband to woo her and take her away from all this.

Through judicious spying she determined the location that her mother occasionally obtained gold to buy things with on their infrequent visits to London, where they could spend a bit of gold without anyone raising an eyebrow. Coreen's eyes lit up when she saw the hoard and five of the coins quickly disappeared into her skirts.

She ran away from home the next afternoon, sure that she'd find the husband of her dreams. Being young, foolish, and ill-equipped for her mission, she chose to first display a golden coin in a tavern, where she dimpled and asked for some lemonade. The barkeep suggested something more interesting than that. She'd never had ale before and, when sweetened with honey, she found it quite tasty. In fact, once she got used to it, she could drink it as if it were lemonade.

When she dragged her tired feet back home, she had neither gold nor her maidenhead any longer. Nor did she have any memory of how she lost either.

Elizabeth was furious, of course. Fully an eighth of their fortune had been squandered, lost by a stupid and willful child. She determined to ensure that the rest of their fortune was not wasted. To that end, she decided to invest it. She could make dresses. She was tired of washing other people's clothes and wanted to become a seamstress instead.

So she concocted a plan to tell the villagers that a distant uncle had died and left her some money.

That solved her problem of having unexplainable money to spend, but Jack's problem wasn't so easily dealt with. He'd been singularly unsuccessful in finding a woman with whom to practice what Dinah had taught him, and using his hand wasn't nearly as much fun as it had been in the past. He'd been giving some serious thought to planting another of his carefully hoarded beans and paying Dinah another visit. It never occurred to him that clouds move or that she might not be there when he climbed up again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

As many a movie star and sports sensation has learned the hard way, nothing spends faster than money you don't think you'll ever run out of. And, while most people aren't all that excited about helping you get money, almost everybody is enthusiastic in the extreme in helping you spend it.

Soon they were ensconced in a nice, new house, with a bedroom for each of them, and a cute girl Jack's age as a live-in maid. Coreen was happier, to some degree, because she got to go to London to shop for shoes and meet dashing young men. None of them followed her home, though, which dampened her enthusiasm somewhat. Elizabeth was just as happy being without a man, all things considered. A man would have assumed that as much as a wife was "his", the money was, as well.

Of course tongues in the village wagged, but no one could find any evidence to suggest that their newfound wealth was ill-gotten , and people had to adjust.

In the process, though, all but two of Jack's coins were spent, leaving them in a lifestyle they had already gotten used to and no real spendable cash to support it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

One upside of the whole situation was Henrietta, the maid, attempting to capitalize on her new situation. Henrietta had the average dose of avarice that most human beings seem to be imbued with. Her upbringing had taught her that men held the reins of power, so she just naturally thought Jack held the key to access their wealth. She set about using what all women have used, historically speaking, to get her hands on a bit more of it than her normal wages. Room and board were fine and all, but she wanted a little spendable cash in her apron pocket, too.

At last Jack had someone with whom to practice his newly learned amorous exercises.

It started one day when his mother and Coreen were out shopping. Henrietta entered Jack's bedroom, clean sheets in her arms. Jack was in bed, having wakened with his usual morning woody. He'd found that if he merely licked one of his magic beans his penis simply got a smidgen larger and amazingly stiff. That tended to make his masturbation sessions more enjoyable, which is what he was engaged in when Henrietta sashayed into his room.

"Oh my," she squealed. "I thought you'd gone out this morning, Master Jack." She tittered. "Oh my!" she sighed, staring at his impressive shaft. "What a handsome fellow you sport between your legs!"

She was, in fact, impressed with her employer's manhood. Jack himself wasn't much to look at, but she knew her way around a penis and she was instantly glad she'd decided to get to know her way around this one.

"Um ..." said Jack, who was not prepared for this situation. "Thank you?" He wasn't sure what the correct thing to do was, so he lay there gripping his penis firmly.

"A girl could be swept off her feet by such an impressive thing," hinted Henrietta. She knew which side she wished to have her bread buttered on, and buttered him up in the process.

"Really?" Jack suddenly realized the girl wasn't screaming ... which suggested he might not be in any trouble after all. She certainly didn't react to what he was doing like his mother and sister did.

"I'm fairly swooning right this instant," sighed Henrietta, somewhat impatiently. She had no idea how long the mistress would be gone and wished to conclude her initial foray into endearing herself to the master quickly.

Still the young man didn't react like she expected him to.

"I don't want you to think I'm forward," she said firmly, "but I need to sit down lest I fall and injure myself."

She didn't wait for an invitation, but sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

"I don't think you're forward," said Jack, beginning to get a glimmer of what was actually going on. He didn't understand why she was acting this way but he decided not to ask too many questions. His whirling mind came up with the only line he'd ever delivered to a woman, and it was delivered by instinct.

"Tis your fair beauty that makes it like this," he said, stroking his cock.

"Me?" she squeaked. "You honor me, sir."

There was more, but it's not overly relevant to what happened. The fact is that ten minutes later, after some hurried kisses and some mutual groping, Henrietta was flat on her naked back, legs thrown wide, and Jack was plugged securely into her very obviously not-virgin sheath.

She was, in fact, somewhat loose, in Jack's opinion. He had no way of knowing that her sex was thusly engaged often, sometimes as much as two or three times a day, depending on who she ran into during her daily activities. That's where some of her spendable cash had been coming from, in fact.

So, merely to increase his own pleasure, he reached his hand under the pillow her head was resting on and extracted the bean he had earlier licked. He licked it several times now.

"Oh my!" squealed the happy girl under him, who was suddenly filled in a way she'd never experienced before. Of course she had no way of knowing why his penis suddenly felt so much better. She was a lusty wench and simply enjoyed it.

Jack enjoyed it too, because this time his partner was his size. That let him use his weight to his advantage, pinning her to the bed while he rammed his now oversized phallus deep in her belly.

His enthusiasm generated some of the same in Henrietta, who had never felt anything like this. She realized with astonishment that she was actually going to have an orgasm, something that was rare indeed with the men she let between her legs. They were, for the most part, somewhat hasty in their completion.

And so, when two orgasms later, Henrietta's lust-soaked brain heard Jack cry out, "I'm going to spew!" she was ecstatic in her reaction.

"Yes!" she wailed. "If you spew like you fuck, it will be coming out my ears!"

Jack's oversized balls did not disappoint the girl who, when he was finally finished soaking her in his warm sperm, actually meant it when she cried out, "Never have I been fucked so well!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

There was, as it turned out, another phenomenon that accompanied Jack's increase in size, when he licked or nibbled a magic bean. While he did not know it, his potency was also affected. Henrietta, loving to play, but not wishing to pay the consequences, regularly partook of certain herbs, purchased from the local witch woman, which prevented her from getting with child during her extracurricular activities.

In fact, there was an egg floating in her uterus which, that very morning had successfully fended off a dozen sperms donated by Willoughby Trencher, a traveling merchant who didn't mind trading trinkets for sex. Not when the woman looked like Henrietta, anyway. For letting him bang her box thoroughly, he'd given her a faux silver chain, with a cameo of the queen on it.

Mere herbs, however, were no match for Jack's magic enhanced spermatozoa.

That egg gave a figurative gasp when it was surrounded by dozens and dozens of Jack's magically strengthened swimmers and threw up her figurative arms as she was skewered thoroughly by one. The energy that sperm brought with him caused her to accelerate her own activity and they began to form Jack's first child.

In other words, when she said she was fucked ... she meant it just as figuratively as she did literally.

She didn't even have to wait to miss her first period to realize she was with child. Her accelerated development accounted for the fact that her body thought it was three months pregnant. Poor Henrietta couldn't possibly blame Jack, though, and had no idea who had done this thing to her. There were too many candidates.

In one way, it didn't matter. In Jack, she had all the man she could ever want, and the fact she was pregnant didn't bother him at all. They spent many hours engaged in happy fucking over the next few months.

That might have played a part in Henrietta delivering a twelve pound baby, only six months after she had first let Jack between her legs. Actually delivering a twelve pound baby convince the girl that she could actually do without sex for a while; a long while, in fact, but that's another story.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Eventually, Elizabeth's spendthrift ways depleted even the huge amount of gold that Jack had stolen from the giant. When she realized the gold was gone, she blamed it on Jack, of course.

"Go and get more!" she ordered him.

As you may recall, Jack hadn't told her the entire story of how he got the gold. He'd simply said he found it in a cave he'd discovered.

"I can't get more," he moaned. "I'm pretty sure I got all there was."

"Well go back and look again," she insisted.

He knew what he'd have to do and how dangerous that would be. So he finally told his mother the truth. He left out all the fucking of Dinah, but explained where he'd gotten the coins.

"Well go and get some more," she said, not doubting his story. Anything a primitive man (or woman) doesn't understand can be accounted for with 'magic' so she was quite willing to believe in it.

"The giant wants to grind my bones!" groaned Jack.

"Well don't let him," said is mother.

That was that, at least as far as discussing things. He knew she'd never understand how really dangerous it was. He knew he'd have to go back.

He planned accordingly. He left in the afternoon, taking two of the original beans with him and two of the ones that Dinah had harvested. They were no worse the wear for having been licked repeatedly over the months.

Their old hovel was empty - no one was in miserable enough circumstances that they'd want to live there - so he took a nap inside and later, as the sun set, dug a hole and dropped in a bean. Then he went back into the hut, so that no one would see him.

When it was fully dark he peered outside and, in the moonlight, saw another huge beanstalk.

He went out and began to climb.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Jack had time, during the climb, to remember that clouds drift and his stomach roiled at the thought that Mortimer and Dinah's house might have moved far away by now. Again, the night was banished as he climbed and, even though it was still dark below, he could see well ... had there been anything to see. He gave a great sigh of relief when he exited the clouds and saw the huge Tudor house right where he'd left it. His pockets were full of beans, just in case, but he was sure he'd be able to find something inside the house that would be worth enough to make his mother happy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Jack, remembering the layout of the house, opened the front door only as wide as it took for him to squeeze in. He looked around for Dinah, but everything was quiet.

Mindful of the mouse traps that Mortimer had made reference to, he crept along the base of one wall. The stove was cold. Creeping on, he peeked into room after room, only to find them silent and empty. He tried to imagine where a giant would keep his sacks of golden coins. Finally, he came to a room that smelled faintly of pipe smoke, with a big leather chair facing a hearth and shelves full of books that were covered with dust. Mortimer's den obviously wasn't used for reading.

"Who are you?"

The high, clear voice so surprised him that Jack stumbled backwards, flailing. Overbalanced, he fell hard on his butt. His brain registered that the voice had been soft, not the thundering volume that both Dinah and Mortimer were capable of.

"Where did you go?" came the sweet voice.

Rising, he moved forward and peered around the chair, where the voice had come from. He was astonished to see someone ... or something ... that looked like a woman with a harp growing out of her back.

As a female she was beautiful, with long golden tresses, an enticing bosom that was encased in blue silk, and hips that her long flowing dress could not hide completely. Bare feet peeked from under the hem of the gown.

As a harp, she was also beautifully all gilt, with precious gemstones embedded in the frame, and what looked like crystal strings.

"There you are!" said the woman. Several of the strings on the harp vibrated, making an almost humming tone.

"Who are you?" asked Jack, astonished that this talking harp seemed to be alive.

"I asked you first," said the harp.

"I'm Jack."

"Oh! I've heard of you!" she said excitedly. "You're the one that got things all in an uproar around here!"

"I didn't mean to," said Jack, stepping around the chair to get a better look at this fascinating ... person.

"Oh I loved it," said the harp. "Things get so boring."

"I've never seen a woman who had a harp growing out of her back before," said Jack, awe in his voice.

"I'm one of a kind," she said. "A spell was cast on me by an evil witch. My name is Harmony."

"That's awful!" said Jack.

"Not really," said Harmony. "It's no worse than any other name."

"I meant the curse," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Yes, that's unfortunate. I'm used to it, though, except for the boredom ... and one or two other things."

"A witch did that to you?"

"Yes. I dallied with her son and she was angry with me because he was a virgin. She was screaming at me about how she couldn't use him for a big spell anymore or something like that. I was trying to run away at the time, so I didn't hear everything. Then, suddenly, I couldn't run anymore, because my backbone had turned into this harp."

"Oh my," said Jack. "That's terrible! But how did you get here?"

"She sold me to Mortimer," said Harmony.

"But that's wrong!" yelped Jack. "You can't just sell people!"

"As you can see," she said quietly. "I'm not really a person anymore." She brightened. "But I can do this!"

Then, to his astonishment, the harp on her back began playing, and she sang to its accompaniment. Her voice was so beautiful that it melted his heart. It also made him stand stock still, paralyzed. He couldn't move a muscle.

Then she stopped, and he was suddenly free again.

"That was so beautiful," he moaned.

"I know," she said carelessly. "For all the good it does me. You're the first person besides Mortimer and Dinah who's heard me in ... oh ... I don't know ... years and years."

"Wow," said Jack. "Magic sure does some funny things."

"I wouldn't call this funny," said Harmony, striking a discordant sound on her strings. "I don't even know what to call myself. I'm not a girl and I'm not a harp. At least Dinah decided to call me a garp instead of a hirl. Can you imagine how terrible it would be for my self esteem if someone looked at me and said 'I feel like hirling'?"