The Giant of Bright Tower, Chapter 8

Bubba used two towels to dry off, then we both headed down to the kitchen. Bubba whipped up a big breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, while I set the table as my coffee maker dribbled out my precious black nectar. I sat down with my first cup to watch Bubba move about my kitchen. He has become familiar with it over the months, and no longer had to ask me the location of things. Also, he was in his usual kitchen outfit of only his enormous apron, so the show was enjoyable.

I ate my breakfast quickly. Leaving Bubba in the kitchen to finish his 4th helping of pancakes, I made my way to the dining room-lab. I plopped myself down on a stool to get started on preparations. Overall, I found my serum to be aggressive; there was just no way to change that at this point. If I had left Bubba alone when I injected him the first time, he may have grown a foot but in days he would have been a walking skeleton or less. I had such a long way to go to find something less aggressive and more sustainable.

Bubba had stepped on the scale before breakfast, so I was putting in his weight to calculate my new dose. I was bent over my calculations, checking them for a third time when Bubba joined me. He walked up behind me and pressed his gut into my back.

He burped, “Tank’s full. Ready for a road trip.”

“One sec, I just want to finish this equation.”

Bubba went silent, but he didn’t back off. I think I could feel his conflict vibrating through the flesh pressing on me. On one hand, he knew this was important and I needed to focus. On the other, he probably wanted to take his dick out and plop it on my shoulder.

“There,” I leaned back, and I felt Bubba’s weight disappear. “We are good to go. So given what happened last time, I am going to reduce the dose waaaaaaay down. This is only 10% of what I gave you before. Like I said, I want to give this to you and we’ll hang out all fall break and I’ll give you the anti-serum at the end. This should give me an even better sense of and you’re already naked.” I had swiveled on my stool to find myself eye level with Bubba’s round butt about a foot from my face. He had dropped his pants and bent over the exam table, though his gut prevented him from bending over at a full 90-degree angle. I slapped it, which got me an “ompf” in reply. At my desk, I carefully drew up the measured dose. Turing around, I cleaned off a section of his ass, and stuck the needle in.

“Done.” I slapped a band-aid on the site.

“Owwiieee,” Bubba wined, “That hurt. Can you kiss it and make it feel better?”

Smiling, I pressed my gloved hands into his cheek and gave him a deep squeeze. I moved my other hand, and really started massaging his ample flesh. One hand moved, and my pinkie finger began exploring further

“Oooohhh, hello.” Bubba moaned. “Now, now.” He stood up and reached for his pants, “Daddy’s man pocket is for good boys.”

“Is that so,” I tossed the gloves away, “And what makes a good boy?”

He grinned a truly evil grin.

----

Bubba hovered over me, the smell of his crotch wafting the last few inches into my face. From where I was, I couldn't see his face past his belly, but I imagined he was smiling.

He must have sensed my hesitation, “you can take it all, I know you can.”

“Are you sure?” Uncertainty loud in my voice, “It’s too much. I don’t think I can take it.”

“ Trust me, I know you can take it.”

I trusted him. Focusing on my breath, I exhaled and pushed the bar off the rack. I stared up at the gym ceiling, looking past the florescent lights glowing back at me as I lowered the bar back down to my chest for my first rep. I exhaled and pushed it up, Bubba’s hands near mine on the bar, but the bar stayed the same weight as I pushed it up.

“C’mon boy,” Bubba encouraged, “Do ten for daddy.”

“Seven,” I breathed out, my chest burning, “Eight…….nine…….” The bar was so heavy.

“One more,” Bubba cheered, “Give me one more.”

I pushed as hard as I could, but gravity was winning. Bubba felt me struggle on the bar, which suddenly felt lighter. I pushed with everything I had until, “Ten!”

Bubba took the bar and set it down on the rack. I couldn’t do much more besides lay there looking pathetic. Luckily, Bubba had chosen this time of day on a Saturday once he finally convinced me, aka started literally dragging me, to his gym. The morning rush was over, and the more serious weight lifters didn’t show up until mid-afternoon. It was a quiet time, so there weren’t many witnesses to my suffering.

Bubba’s Gym (literally, that’s what he named it) was converted from an old warehouse, and the structures open interior, with metal siding and steel beams rafters, added character to the place. Since the warehouse used to house a big industry a century ago, Bright Tower kind of grew around and from the warehouse over the years, leading to it being a relativity quick drive from anywhere in town. Bubba, being quite business savvy as I came to realize, combined this with his life-long knowledge of gyms when he bought the place. There was no basketball court, no pool, and no indoor track. There were three entrances and exits to the giant parking lot surrounding it. Taking up the first floor was a combination free-weight area and neat rows of weight machines. The second level was less a floor and more a platform that ringed the inside walls of the warehouse leaving the middle empty to gaze on the floor below. This ring held all of the cardio machines, facing out of second floor windows.

The whole design, Bubba had explained, was to maximize efficiency. Most people who go to the gym want to get in, do their workout, and get out. The multiple entrances allow them shorter walks from their car to the gym, and the size means that even during peak times there was never a wait time for equipment or machines. Full size locker rooms with showers, steam rooms, and saunas were available on the first floor, but small stand-alone lockers were scattered throughout the gym on both floors for members who just needed a place to store their wallet and keys. Finally, according to Bubba, since weight lifters were more ‘serious’ gym goers than others, the free weight section was well out of the path of people doing cardio and could lift in peace. This left me with the feeling Bubba may be biased against those who focus on cardiovascular exercise; but hey, it wasn’t my gym.

While I had been laying useless on the bench, Bubba had removed the weights.

“Good job,” he said, holding a 45-pound weight as if it were a paper plate, “Time to give your chest a break and work your back.”

“My back disagrees,” I groaned from the bench, “My back thinks I should go home and curl up in front of my TV and never, ever move again.”

Bubba laughed, “Resting is for tomorrow, and you still need to earn it, boy.” He reached down with one hand under my head and pushed me up into a sitting position. “Up, up, up.”

Somehow, I did pull downs, worked my biceps and triceps without crying. However, I got to 5 sit-ups with Bubba’s massive shoe locking my feet in place, before collapsing on the mat and refusing to move.

“Good job little man,” a bodybuilder in a muscle shirt with the gym logo, BG over a set of crossed dumbbells, had walked up to us. Mid forties, but looked young and fit enough to work the spiky hairstyle he had slicked his brown hair into. The muscle shirt did what it was designed to and while he was technically wearing a shirt, I had a pretty good idea of what he looked like if he wasn’t wearing one. His big, lean muscles looked bored when all they were being used for was carrying the clipboard in his hands.

“Alex, this is Steve. Steve, Alex,” Bubba introduced. I waved from the floor, Alex waved back. “Alex runs the place for me, when’s he not busy lifting all my weights.” Bubba laughed. “ I should just set up an apartment in a closet and charge you rent.”

“You don’t pay me enough to afford rent, Bubba.”

“I pay you plenty and you get to work out for free,” Bubba shot back. “You’re the one who has to have the latest fashion.” From my position on the floor, I could see that Alex was indeed wearing some awesome kicks. Bubba slapped his chest, “I should try lifting your ego for my next workout, but it might be to heavy for even me.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, “For my next workout, I should try lifting you, but you might be too light. You’re looking thin.”

I froze. Was Bubba thinner than this morning? But after a beat Bubba threw his head back and roared with laughter. I breathed, Bubba wasn’t thinner, Alex was just poking Bubba where it hurt.

As they bumped fists, I somehow managed to get myself standing. Bubba plopped his hand on my shoulder, which almost knocked me back down. “So what’s up? I know you didn’t come over to watch me torture this guy, unless you’re into that.”

“Aren’t all trainers?” Alex held up the clipboard, “Those forms that should have arrived yesterday are here now. You wanna just sign them or…?”

Bubba sighed, “No, I should look over them real quick. You.” He looked at me and pointed up. “Bike. 20 minutes. No arguing, and I’ll be checking to see how fast those wheels are spinning. Go!” I groaned and walking away received a hard slap on the shoulder. As we went our separate ways, I caught a little of their conversation.

“See, I wanna play the ‘tough love’ card with my clients too,” Alex was saying, “But it doesn’t always work.”

“The trick,” Bubba replied, “Is to not start off strong. You have to know them before you can lay into them. Otherwise, you’re just a stranger yelling at them. Get to know them first, then one day when you stack those weights in front of them and they look scared, that’s when you push ‘em. And a beautiful relationship is born.”

“Ya big softie.”

On the second level, I found a bike off by itself, and started my 20 minutes. Something told me Bubba would be keeping half an eye on me and the clock. I didn’t have much of a view out my window, jus the strip mall next to the gym.

Since I was alone, I figured a little inspiration couldn’t hurt. God knows I needed it. I pulled out my phone and set it on the bike’s dashboard. I opened a music video and the pop star starting dancing and singing on my little screen as my feet moved up and down. I was really getting into it, and the tempo helped. I started singing along.

“Great song.”

I turned so violently in my seat the bike wobbled. My phone slid off and started falling. Victor moved faster that I thought a person of his size could and caught it before it hit the floor. Moving back to a standing position with a big grin on his face, he held it out for me.

“Here ya go.” I took it from his and set it back on the dashboard, “Nice singing voice. Betcha don’t here that often?”

On one hand, I was in Bubba’s gym, which means I was kind of in beta mode to his alpha. On the other, I was a professor, and Viktor was a student. When it came to bioengineering, chemistry, and students, I was alpha.

“Nice catch,” I replied, “Betcha hear that quite often.”

He smiled back. He was wearing a black workout shirt with dark green workout shorts. “Mind if I join you?” he gestured to the bike next to mine.

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Though what brings you here? Doesn’t the football team have their own gym?”

“It’s being renovated.” Viktor took a sip from his water bottle and raised the seat of the bike to maximum. “They figured they could do it over fall break when everybody’s out.”

“Ah yes, the football program.” I smiled wistfully, “Let’s update the football gym, even though the science building has been begging for an upgrade for ten years. Let’s ignore that and give all the money to football.” I glanced at him, “It’s not you, just sharing ongoing administration issues.”

Viktor set his bike resistance and started pedaling. “No worries. Hey, I read your syllabus. For real this time. You put a lot of great stuff in there.”

“Finally! Thank you. Yes. I know freshman have to take a science class for their requirements, and I know chemistry isn’t your first choice. So I filled my syllabus with a ton of resources to help you guys learn,” I glanced around, then I lowered my resistance a little so I could keep pedaling and talk. “Its fun to find all those YouTube videos of nerds, like yours truly, who can make educational videos with all the animation.”

“Yeah,” Viktor nodded in agreement, “I watched that one you recommended. It helped what I needed click in my head, and now the textbook makes more sense.” He took a long sip from his water bottle, “That test is gonna get aced!”

“Yep. That’s what they all say,” I rolled my eyes, “Just don’t forget to study. Fall break is the first real break for freshman, and you tend to unwind after realizing how difficult college can be.”

“It ain’t high school, that’s for sure.” Viktor replied, “So…do you come to this gym often?”

“Well, just the last few months.” I replied, “This is kinda new for me. I have a lot to learn.”

“Need somebody to show you the ropes?” Viktor offered, “I seriously owe you for that syllabus.”

I hesitated, really trying not to overthink. It’s simple. Viktor was grateful for my help with his schoolwork, which he needs to keep up in order to play football. He’s a nice guy, and he wanted to thank me. Nothing more. I glanced sideways at him. The bike was just big enough for him. His big legs moved up and down, pushing his shorts up to mid thigh each time. Yet where the fabric met in the middle, underneath his flapping t-shirt that sporadically revealed his beautiful black belly; well, I didn’t understand why anyone would bike with such a huge phone in their pocket.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a trainer.” I said, turning up the resistance for a bit. Viktor fell silent and turned to stare out at the strip mall. Did that mean something? Ugh, I’m overthinking.

“You can thank me,” I said firmly, “By getting an A in my class, and convince me that my syllabus actually works and helps freshman pass if they care to open it.”

“Sounds good.” Viktor smiled back at me. “And exercise is good for the brain, right?”

“Sure is.” My phone buzzed. I picked it up to see a text.

Stop flirting with the meathead. Cook those muscles in the steam room for 15. Drink a lot of water before heading in.

“What’s up,” Viktor asked

“My trainer.” I replied, “He wants me to stop talking to the meathead and head to the steam room. He’s not a guy to I want to ignore.” I hopped off my bike, and the end of motion made me more aware of my spent muscles. I moaned just a little.

“Ohhh,” Viktor chuckled, “That sounds like a sore day tomorrow.” He smiled at me. “Drink plenty of water before you steam.”

I shook my head in disbelief, there’s two of them. “Ok. Bye Viktor, remember to study. I’m serious about that test.”

Viktor waved. I left him playing with his phone, which had been sitting on his bikes’ dashboard the entire time.

-

I stood in nothing but a towel around my waist, staring at a “Closed” sign hanging on a door in a wide expanse of wall near a corner of the locker room. I was about to turn away when I heard a deep, muffled voice from inside.

“Boy I told you 15 minutes in the steam room.”

I pulled the door opened to receive a face full of hot vapor. Blinking, my eyes adjusted to the misty room. It was a long, rectangular shape, and I was entering in the middle of the long side. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that the room actually followed the corner of the locker room, making the room more like an L. The white tiled walls jutted in and then down to create a seamless bench around the edge of the room. In the middle was another raised bench, tiled and stretched in a line to the corner, where there was a break, and then a second one disappeared around the corner.

Bubba was in front of me on the other side of the middle bench. Relaxed, his feet up, with one towel doing a terrible job of covering his lap. He took a long drink from a huge weight shake container, and then switched to a long drink from a water bottle.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve hung up the “Closed” sign when you’ve wanted the steam room to yourself, is it?” I walked around and sat on the middle bench so I was facing Bubba with my back to the door. The lights in here were dimmer than the ones in the locker room, but all the steam reflected the light as a soft glow. Between the foggy light and my lack of glasses, Bubba was more giant, obscure mass than man.

“My gym.” Bubba replied, scratching at his goatee. “Probably should have asked, but is steaming any good for me in my condition?”

I thought about it, “The heat will increase you heart rate, meaning your blood will be pumped faster, shortening the distribution time of the serum throughout your body. The peak time I calculated would be sometime tomorrow evening.” The warm steam pressed on me, and I felt my body relax. “But even though it will be distributed quicker, it’s still much weaker than it was last time. So, steam rooms are ok, but let me know if you feel any different.”

I think Bubba nodded, but it was hard to be sure. He nudged me with his foot and slapped the bench. I took the hint; got up and plopped down next to him. His big, sweaty arm fell on me, tucking me into his side. His smell was strong here, a powerful musky scent. I breathed it in.

“Does the shake mean that you’re extra hungry right now?”

“Hmm? Oh no, this is normal,” Bubba picked up the shake container and swirled its contents. “After you head home, it’s my turn to work out. This is a pre-workout shake to give me fuel.” He took another long drink, then a sip of water.

“There are shakes you’re suppose to drink before you workout?” I asked incredulously.

That made Bubba chuckle, “Oh, I have so much to teach you, young padawan.”

I sighed, “I don’t know, I’m not very good at this.”

“Oh, and you were soooo good at science when you took your first class.” Bubba squeezed me, “You just have to give it time. This,” Bubba rubbed his front from chest to belly button, “took time to build. This,” he rubbed my head, “Took time to figure out that serum. My trainers work with clients who think they’re gonna go from trainwreck to runway model in 3 months. That’s not how it works. It. Takes. Time.” Bubba settled back after his speech. “Your job is to lift what I tell you to, and it’s my job to figure out a workout that’s not too easy, and not too hard, lil’ Goldilocks’.”

I tried not to whine, but failed, “But it’s just so hard. I barely made it through today.”

“Keywords there, ” Bubba replied, “Is you made it through.”

I stopped to think about that. He was right, I did.

“Which means,” Bubba said slyly, “I’m gonna have to find something a little harder for next time.”

I groaned, and shook as Bubba let out a laugh.

“And since you did such an amazing job today,” Bubba continued, “I think boy deserves a treat.” I looked up confused.

“We worked your upper body today.” Bubba said while setting his feet on the floor, “But now its time to work your lower body.”

Bubba tossed the towel aside and stood up. The mist swirled around this moving mountain as he made his way to the far corner of steam room, out of view of the door. Slowly dawning on what was happening, I threw my towel aside as well and followed.

“I had a few ideas for the guy who renovated this place.” Bubba explained, “The locker rooms are roughly the same size. However, in the ladies, the steam room is smaller and the extra space allows more bathroom stalls, something I’ve been thanked for.” I turned the corner. The middle bench was shorter on this side, leaving an open expanse of tiled floor between the benches on the wall. Along the walls here were sturdy metal bars, horizontal as well as vertical. There were some along the benches as well, spaced out evenly to create seats. Bubba stood looking at me in the middle of the open expanse, his arms crossed, and with my blurred vision a sparkle where his mouth should be.

My eyebrows went as high as they could. While the scene looked innocent enough, the gay in me instantly saw the setup for what it was. “And how on God’s green earth did you explain this suggestion to your guy?”

Bubba raised his hands, and I think he was doing air quotes, “Handicap accessibility.”

I had one stunned moment of silence, and then I burst out laughing. Bubba let out a laugh as well, and the sound echoed around us. Still chuckling, he moved forward to pick me up under my armpits with little effort and stood me on a bench on the wall. Still smiling, I looked up at his face. My boosted height made the movement less strenuous and more intimate. Looking down at something more eye level, my mouth enveloped one of this nipples and I began with soft touches of my tongue. I heard Bubba moan, his arms embraced me, pulling me against his massive chest. I rolled my tongue across his sweaty chest, enjoying the salty flavor. He growled. One of his hands reached down to stroke me, and I was slippery in his sweaty hands. When I was throbbing against him, He released me.

Picking me back up and setting me down on the floor, Bubba strode over to the metal bars on the wall. Grabbing one, he did some kind of twisting motion, and one end of the bar swung out from the wall. He did the same to the other wall as well, so they both stuck far out over the aisle. I could picture how someone in a wheel chair could hoist themselves up and move onto the bench.

Bubba leaned over one bench. He turned to me and slapped something against my chest. I caught it, and realized it was a bottle of lube. Bubba sat down on the end of the middle bench, and leaned back like I had when I was on the weight rack. His legs came up, and hooked perfectly on the bars. Bubba was relaxed on his back in the middle of the steam room, his thick tree trunk legs up in the air, and that massive backside that I never tired of looking at was on display like a turkey at thanksgiving.

As I approached this prized peach, I couldn’t help but tease him, “You know, the way you moved right now, you looked like you’ve done this before.” I stood before him, and found that the level was just right for me. My hands moved out and tenderly stroked his legs. “I think… a lot of times before.”

“Boy, if I didn’t know better,” Bubba said around a deep inhale, “ I’d think you was implying something.”

The talk with Viktor was fresh in my mind. Even with Bubba dominating personality washing over me, I pulled back my hand and smacked his ass hard.

“Ow,” Bubba let out a yelp. “Boy, have you lost your god damn-”

I reached forward and grabbed his balls, and Bubba got quiet real quick. I leaned down and slowly ran my tongue from the base of his balls to the head of his dick, which swelled against my face. I could feel his whole body shudder.

“Yeah…I’m thinkin’ maybe you have.”

“Sure I have,” Bubba gruffed, though there was the finest quiver in his voice, “Its my gym, do you know how many guys I’ve topped on this bench? And how many have come back begging for more?”

“Oh I’m know your dance card is waaaaay bigger than mine.” I poured lube on a finger, and began to rub it slowly over his entrance. His legs spasmed ever so slightly, “But the question is, which of those guys had the right, nay, the honor to top The Daddy B?” My finger slipped in.

Bubba moaned, and he tightened around my finger. After a bit, he loosened up. I moved around, exploring. Bubba sighed heavily, and I could have sworn was moving his hips closer.

I stopped, “Well?”

Bubba stilled. “Sometimes…it’s a bet, ya know? Loser has to bottom?”

“Uh huh,” my second finger slipped in, Bubba tensed again, then relaxed. “What a useful excuse. I’m guessing these were lifting related bets. And I wonder if you were really giving it your all?”

“Sometimes, I’m just having an off day-HAAAaaaaah.”

My third finger slipped in, Bubba was definitely pushing back against me. “Oh, how convenient.” I was entering full professor mode, “An off day, oh well, lost the bet. Guess you’ll have to plow me.” I twisted my hand hard, and I thought I heard a whimper. “Really? That’s your best excuse? C’mon, I’m a teacher, I’ve heard way better.” I worked my last finger in to make it four, “I’d say…you wanted it. I think there might be something to getting worked over in your own gym. Something about power and control. The owner of the gym, who has to be in charge everyday, sign all the forms, sometimes just needs a break and let someone else take control. Just for a little while, am I right?” My fingers still stretching him wide, my other hand grabbed his throbbing member, “I asked you a question. Am. I. Right?” I gave him a good squeeze and pushed my fingers in a little further.

Bubba moved his hands down and squeezed his arms against the bench. Then he spoke through what sounded like gritted teeth, “…..yes.”

I released him, and slowly pulled my hand out. “That’s what I thought. Good daddy.” We were both rock hard at this point. I poured a healthy measure of lube on my dick and stepped up. I positioned myself against him, and slowly pushed in.

It was incredible. I could feel Bubba flexing and relaxing, so skilled with all his muscles. I pushed all the way in and we sighed at the same time. I leaned back, and moved in again. God he was tight. I found my rhythm, and reached up to his legs for support as I rammed myself into this big, beefy, hunk of a man. I couldn’t see much of Bubba’s face, but given the sounds echoing around the steam room weren’t all mine, I think he was enjoying himself.

Bubba moved his hands to his dick and started beating his meat at a furious pace. I could feel him tighten up as well, and that pushed me even closer. I squeezed his legs to let him know I was close, and then I pressed into him and groaned. He squeezed down just as I came, and the sensation was exhilarating. I pushed into him as hard as my legs would allow. I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve topped, and this was by far the best.

Bubba started to groan, and I looked up just in time to see a gusher. His first pulse hit the ceiling, and collapsed against my shoulder. A second followed, not quite as high, then a third. To keep myself out of the line of fire, I grabbed his raging member and held it up and to the side. It throbbed in my grip, and hot white streams continued to erupt. Finally, after a solid minute of outpouring, it went soft and limp. Bubba lay there with a splattering of paint all over his front. I looked like I had knocked a can of white paint down my side.

Bubba chuckled, “Wow…you can really wear the pants when you want to boy.”

I flattened my hand and scraped what I could off of me, “I’m a teacher Bubba. You gotta show those freshies whose boss or they’ll walk all over you.” I looked all around, “This…is a lot.”

Bubba slowly moved to a sitting position, “Yeah, this was about your reward but also my balls were feeling a little… swollen again.”

I looked around, trying to estimate as best I could without my glasses on, “This really is a lot, and all after the shower from this morning.”

Bubba straightened up and puffed out his chest, “I am a king marking my territory.”

I frowned, “Ok. I think I need to go home and recheck something’s.”

“Can I still workout?”

I thought about it, “Yes…you should be fine. But let me know if you feel any different, ok?”

“Deal. I’ll work out, you work on your super soldier serum.”

I looked up at him and smiled. This crazy, sexy man had not an ounce of fear in his body. He just spewed out what could be an entire gallon of cum with no though or concern on how his body produced that much fluid. He either trusted me completely, or really was ready to die to get big.

As he sat on the end of the bench, I walked up and placed my hand on his thigh. He lay his enormous hand on top of mine and squeezed. We stayed like that for a moment and in the silence heard the door to the steamroom slam shut.