Author's note: this story is dedicated to Ryan, my bubblebutt-loving buddy.
Glutemax!
Yes, that's it, thought Dr. Bean, as the long struggle to come up with a name for his new invention ended afer a single, fruitful glance across the weight room. Ironic, wasn't it, that after so many countless hours of futile brainstorming in the research lab the diminutive nutrition researcher would end his quest during his lunch hour workout session at the gym across the street from his firm?
Yes, it was fitting that Herbert Bean was finally able to name his new but yet untested bulking supplement for bodybuilders while in the sweaty, grunting presence of such a strikingly prime example of his future product's consumer base--a hunk of beef called Bubba Assingham. Certainly it was MORE fitting than the straining pair of lime green lycra shorts that were struggling to contain the athlete's massive butt cheeks today as he straddled the weight bench to pull down the lifting bar over his crew cut blonde, blue-eyed head. Two ripe melons in a string bag would have seemed less precarious than those familiar, bulbous rump halves getting squeezed together by the lycra even as their curved forms bulged apart to extend outward over the edges of the bench.
"Whatcha staring at, 'Mr. Rogers'?" sneered Bubba without even bothering to face Herbert. "Wishing you had a butt like mine--or even a butt at all?"
Herbert was less startled by the fact that Bubba had suddenly addressed him than by the uncanny acuracy of the smart-assed hunk's taunting observation. After all, conditions today matched the other rare occasions the proud muscle stud had acknowledged Herbert's comparatively worm-like presence--specifically, with the weightroom empty of other guys who might otherwise have witnessed the Robert Gant look-alike Olympian's condescension toward such a puny Jerry Seinfeld-ish mortal. But Bubba's previous rude remarks had been more general and less insightful. Today Bubba had not only correctly assessed the nature of Herbert's attention toward his body, but had also somehow identified what the scientist considered his own greatest physical shortcoming--virtual buttlessness.
"I beg your p-pardon, Mr. Assingham," Herbert began mildly and respectfully. He puposely addressed the brute by name not only to sidestep the intended slight of Bubba's name calling, but also to verbally savor its meaty, voluptuous sound. Plus, by wetly 'kissing' its owner's ear with this address, he got to stroke Bubba's vanity with fresh evidence of his apparent gym-wide stardom.
"I didn't mean to be rude," he continued, "But as you were straddling that bench, I couldn't help but observe and admire the especially remarkable development of your gluteal muscles."
Bubba laughed crudely. "You mean you were staring at my ASS like you wanted to nibble at it, ya scrawny little lab rat!"
Herbert flushed and inwardly writhed like Saint Sebastian as the big ox's contemptuous, teasing arrows hit their target, but his heart raced at Bubba's careless revelation of an apparent, if limited, interest in him by way of his scientific profession. Naturally Bubba's almost cartoonish masculinity had been the subject of much discussion in the firm's cafeteria among the other man-lusting members of Herbert's research staff, who had dubbed the brute 'Fanny'Assingham after a character from Henry James. But this remark surely indicated that Bubba must have been discussing or at least more than casually observing Herbert to have discovered he worked in a lab. It was tantalizing for Herbert to ponder what interest a man like Bubba might have in his profession as a nutritionist.
"Once again, I apologize, Mr. Assingham, for giving such an impression," Dr. Bean went on. "It's just that as a senior research fellow in Nutrition who works across the street at the Pillsbury F--"
Bubba interrupted Herbert with an exaggerated snort of indifference and continued to lift and avoid eye contact.
"At the, a, Pillsbury Foundation," Herbert proceeded meekly, "I specialize in the development of dietary supplements for, ah....'bulking up' specifically targeted muscle groups for athletes."
Herbert smiled to himself as he watched bubba halt in mid-lift and turn to look directly at him for the first time. Predictably, he'd dazzled the big moose in the glare of pharmaceutical headlights. Was bubba going to turn tail or become roadkill, he mused.
"I couldn't help but wonder, as I observed your finely developed glutemus maximus, if my new, untested formula could improve upon, even ever so slightly, your posterior's virtual perfection," said Herbert.
Bubba blinked dumbly for a couple of seconds. "You're saying there's something WRONG with my ASS?" he finally spat.
Herbert trembled but said nothing for the moment. He had somewhat misrepresented the focus of his actual research, but the important thing now was that the big brute seemed to have run out of surprise remarks and was now reacting with perfect predictability. Lab rat INDEED, he sniffed to himself as he warily watched the big hulk release the overhead lifting bar and rise from the bench to approach him. Who was the lab rat NOW, he pondered, as he watched the athlete lurching into a maze from which he would surely never return as quite the same creature.
Herbert braced himself for the sweaty confrontation he predicted would be the most difficult part of the elaborate, deliciously dirty plan that had only just begun spinning out of his brain minutes earlier, but which was quickly weaving itself into a spider web of clever calculation and was making him shiver from its implications.
He forced himself to keep from visibly shaking with tell-tale desire and to lie back on the bench and merely pause in the middle of his leg lifts as Bubba approached him, his only movement being to spread his knees slightly apart so the front of his baggy sweatpants would stretch tightly enough and high enough over his excited crotch to hide any stirrings.
"This ass needs improvement?" Bubba snapped, turning around and backing his rounded hind quarters towards the reclining nutritionists faced until the bodybuilders massive thighs were straddling his chest and arms. Herbert lay breathless and still like a camper playing dead under a strangely hairless grizzly. "My butt cheeks not plump round or firm enough for your standards?" Assingham hissed, grasping the scrawny nutritionists bony knees through his gray sweatpants to allow him leverage while he ground his big ass backwards into Dr. Beans face.
Herbert could barely keep himself from gasping as first his classic Jewish nose and then his prominent chin became wedged into the deep cleft of Bubbas thrusting schicksa ass. The pungent man musk that wafted into Dr. Beans nostrils with this motion was complimented by the electrifying tactile sensation of his dense 1 oclock shadow of beard stubble catching and tugging at the Lycra fibers. His little wire-rimmed glasses steamed over as the researchers vision and very breath were engulfed in lime green voluptuousness.
Of course as Bubbas skimpy skin-tight shorts were getting ground deeper into his butt crack they were also getting hiked higher and farther off of the outer curves of his fleshy flanks. Herbert hadnt seen butt cheeks like these since he and some select lab boys had watched a Dean Coulter porn video at one of their monthly JO parties.
"Well?" demanded the brutal bodybuilder.
"Mpppghhhfff! Mggpff!" came the reply from Herberts buried lips, which Assingham could feel resonate against his own ass pucker through the Lycra better than his ears could hear the words. It was a curiously pleasant vibrating and buzzing sensation that caused him to momentarily relax his grip on Dr. Beans knees, at which Bubba was slightly distracted by the slight crackling of the ungroomed twerps apparently dense leg hair through the shifting sweat pants fabric.
On the one hand the odd sensation reinforced Bubbas sense of his own superior depilatory body-builders grooming, but on the other it presented him with an unexpected yet undeniable proof of the fully adult maleness of the little punk he was trying to humiliate and intimidate. Little did Bubba know that only the TRULY superior strength of Herberts Spalding brand jockstrap was preventing a different feature of the little Doctors manhood from snapping to full attention and perhaps delivering an uppercut to the bodybuilders jaw.
"Your buttocks, Mr. Assingham, are undeniably the most fully developed and magnificent of any man I have ever seen," Dr. Bean was finally able to speak audibly, though still barely able to catch his breath. "They are a testament to your natural physical gifts as well as your tireless work."
Bubba smirked at this with pride, forgetting any momentary qualms about his in-the-face maneuver.
"But........" Herbert paused cautiously, daring to savor the pun for only a second or two, "your IMPOSSIBLY tight shorts nevertheless continue to contain them. Your glorious glutes remain CONTAINABLE."
Bubbas brow creased with suspicion. "Huh?" he muttered, turning his head to eye the frightened-looking intellectual face that his own ass half obscured. Was the little twerp hinting in some pervy way that he just wanted to see MORE?
Sensing the danger, Bean was quick to finish. "Only with my assistance, Mr. Assingham, will your glutemus maximus ever attain the ultimate expansive shape, size and firmness that no earthly material could inhibit or restrict. With my new nutritional supplement, Glutemax, a tightly controlled protein diet, and a two week program of rigorous targeted muscle workouts, we......er, you can develop an ass that would make Michelangelos David weep with envy."
Bubba stood up straight, still straddling Dr. Beans skinny midsection and paused to consider with an expressionless face. It was a defensive move, because he had never wanted anyone, especially a little weasel like this, to suspect he knew there was any room for improvement in his physique. Sure, hed been sniffing around the gym for months to find a source like this Bean twerp for under the counter steroid prescriptions, but this offer sounded so good it frightened him.
The idea of an endlessly expanding ass that defied any containment resonated with the bodybuilder more deeply than he wanted anyone to know. He had visions of himself naked, oiled and tanned all over, wrestling with other huge-thighed Greek gods in the ancient gymnasium. There was the amusing thought of having to freeball it under a Scottish kilt for the rest of his life, since no britches known to man would contain such an ass. There was even the secret wish to dethrone that Dean Coulter guy for the privilege of tantalizing all the queers by adorning porn video box covers with coy, _c_o_c_k_y displays of the biggest, roundest and manliest ass in the world.
Each of these dreams depended on admitting the truth of what Bubba wanted. And even though Bubba wasnt self-aware enough to know the HALF of what he really wanted deep down inside, he wasnt yet prepared to show even the weakness of admitting what his conscious desires implied. Meanwhile, as Herbert waited for the big lugs reaction, he realized that he no longer cared if he would go along voluntarily with this unauthorized human test trial of his invention—he was resolved to put the vain, obnoxious brute through the works either way.
So, when Bubba suddenly smirked, bent again and announced he was declining the Doctors offer but that as a consolation the little nerd could literally kiss his already perfect ass, Herbert obliged him. As he peeled up the lime green Lycra casing to expose and kiss Bubbas smooth, sweaty, left buttock, he feigned the fevered desperation that he knew the big jerk was expecting of him, while inwardly satisfied that the ass he was kissing, one way or another, would soon belong to him.
End of part one.
MMSA Stories readers, please email me and hound me to post the next installment, or it will never get done.