The Giant of Bright Tower, Chapter 11

I grabbed my second cup of coffee from the kitchen, then returned to my dinning-room lab. After a sip and set it down to review the results of Bubba’s latest bloodwork from this morning. He said he had a vendor stopping by today to peddle some new exercise machines, so he wanted to get the gym early. After blowing me in bed, jerking off in the shower, an enormous breakfast, jerking off one more time while I was getting my supplies ready, I drew his blood and he was out the door.

I set my coffee down on the table and stared at my computer. About 3 feet away the little machine I had put the blood vials in had finished its spinning for the morning. The timer I’d been waiting on finally hit zero, and the machine turned off. I clicked the application on my computer and looked at the results.

I would say that after my disastrous first attempt, I finally figured out how to use Goliath Serum on a human. Maybe I had miscalculated the dosing amount when switching from rat. Or maybe I just had a rather unique human test subject. Either way, all week, Bubba’s levels of testosterone and human growth hormone were the same as any puberty-stricken 14 year-old boys’.

S-u-c-c-e-s-s, that-is-how-you-spell-success. I clapped my hands and let out a small cheer. Now that I had a baseline, I could enter the second phase of my serum. I had only just played around with phase two with Harold, I had made his tail a little longer. I figured that since he couldn’t tell me what he wanted, or if there were side effects going on that he couldn’t inform me of, it wouldn’t be right. But now my test subject could tell me what they wanted, and they could tell me if it worked. And, most importantly, I’m sure Bubba could help me brainstorm a bunch of things he might want.

In my phase two folder, I opened ‘drafts’ and leaned back in my chair as dozens of human DNA pieces filled the screen and mused how the puzzle would go together.

----

Late afternoon, I was in the kitchen when I heard my front door open. I could see in my mind the image of Bubba ducking under my front door.

“I’m back, baby. Hey. Something smells good!?”

“Yep.” I called, feeling the soft vibration of Bubba’s bag hitting the floor followed by the harder vibrations of his steps down the hall. “I have been watching you cook for a few months now; picking up something here and there. But I kept it simple,” I set the plates of food on the countertop. “I just made you a pre-dinner snack. Chicken and sweet potatoes.”

Bubba didn’t so much enter but filled the kitchen, crossed to me and hugged me from behind. He pulled me tight against his belly, and I could feel something hard digging into my lower back. I reached behind and rubbed it.

“Hey now, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” Bubba reached over and popped a piece of chicken in his mouth.

“ I don’t intend to,” I rubbed a little harder, Bubba adjusted his stance so I had easier access, and reached for another piece of chicken. “But I have some news I want to share first.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“Go and get settled in, and then I’ll share.”

Bubba slapped me on the butt and walked out of the kitchen. He returned in an enormous t-shirt that was stretched thin across his mass and some very worn out sweatpants. He wolfed down my pre-dinner snack, threw on his huge apron, and started cooking his real dinner.

“So what’s the big news?”

“Well,” I moved to the sink to start on dishes and get out of his way, “First, I’ll be giving you the anti-serum this evening.” I heard Bubba stop moving, “And there is a good reason to do so.”

“And that would be?” Bubba asked, jamming the oven’s ON button a little too hard.

“Because it was a success.” Bubba turned to look at me, confused. “Your hormone levels have been the same as any teenagers for a week. That was the biggest problem I had to solve when trying this on a human.” I could tell Bubba understood this was good news, but he just nodded and kept waiting for me to explain.

“So now,” I went on, “Remember what you said to me our first night? Why didn’t I just change eye color or hair color? Why did I figure out a way to make guys bigger?

Bubba nodded, still not seeing where this was headed

“Well,” I took a couple steps toward him, “Now that I have the basics, I could, you know, see if I can change hair or eye color. Or maybe, I dunno…” I reached forward to rub Bubba’s enormous belly, “tweak how much and where the body stores fat. Or maybe,” I reached up to rub his muscle chest, “Tell the human body to focus on muscle building. Or even…” With one hand I reached down to caress Bubba through his jeans, “Maybe see if I can make this a little bigger?”

Bubba looked at me like I was the second coming of Jesus. He just smiled and belly bumped me against the fridge. I felt his bulk press me, flatten me, and he could see that I liked it.

“Boy.” Bubba just kept smiling, “you are really something else.” I smiled back at him.

“And if I’m getting the antidote tonight,” He reached up and pulled off the apron from around his neck, so that it was just being held up between our bodies, “Then we ain’t letting my extra testosterone go to waste.”

“What about dinner?”

Bubba reached behind him, the apron falling to the floor, and turned off the stove. “We’ll order out. Living room, clothes off, now!”

I moved, reaching down to pull off my shirt above my head. In the living room, I wiggled out of my pants and turned around. Bubba was behind me, and he had already stripped. His belly proudly protruding before him.

“Boy, I said strip.”

“You said clothes,” I replied, “ this is underwear.”

Bubba took two steps forward and thrusted his belly into me. It felt like a wrecking ball, a solid mass that pushed me backwards and I fell onto the mattress on the floor.

“You’re getting cocky, boy,” Bubba crossed his arms and loomed over me. He gazed over the curve of his belly into my face. “Some major breakthroughs in science and you think you can talk back to me.”

I smiled, “Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?”

Bubba squatted down carefully, and dropped his belly onto me. It was like having a water balloon the size of a yoga ball on top of me. He watched my face as I felt the air ever so softly being squeezed out of me.

“Nnngg,” I wheezed, “That all you got?”

While keeping his Belly pressing me down, Bubba shuffled around the mattress until he was over my head. He kneeled down, keeping the same pressure on me while moving himself closer.

“Suck it, boy.”

I teased him, darting my tongue out and giving him quick little licks. He responded by increasing the pressure on me and squashing me into the mattress.

“I said suck it!” He thrusted himself against my face.

I decided I was going to lose this particular battle, and opened my mouth. He immediately pushed himself in and held in there for a few seconds until he felt me cough and pulled back slightly. He settled into a slow, easy rhythm of in and out. My world was dark and musky, but I could envison the image of what was happening. Me, barely visible, underneath Bubba’s enormous belly. Bubba leaning over me, one hand on the couch to stop himself from completely crushing me. His free hand rubbing in wide, sweeping arcs his pride and joy.

It wasn’t long before Bubba’s thrusts became urgent. Like a Teenager indeed, I thought to myself. I opened my mouth wider, giving him easier access as he got closer. With one final thrust, He shoved himself in and held it. I remembered only too late that he was producing more than usual, and was unprepared for the deluge of hot Bubba gravy that filled my mouth. With him still in my mouth, I took as big a gulp as I could, followed by another. After the third, I gagged, and he pulled back, only to have the next shot hit me in the eye.

“Ahhh,”I sputtered. I pushed and felt the great weight lift off of me, and I could roll over to breath and to wipe the back of my hand across my face. Even while recovering, I could feel stuff slap my back at regular intervals.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t want to stain the mattress,” Bubba huffed out, a moan at the end of his voice. Finally, he shuffled his footsteps and I knew he was done.

“Maybe,” I got to my feet, feeling fluid crawl down my body. “Maybe we turn down the amount of spludge you generate.”

Bubba grinned. “Can’t we turn it up?”