Jenney's Asshole Ch. 01

Episode 1: The Personal Trainee

"Why won't you stay down?" Jenney whined through gritted teeth as she pressed her palms against her expansive ass.

It didn't seem to matter how hard she pushed. The moment she released her grip, her bottom resumed protruding defiantly in a perfect arc.

This time was like any other. She narrowed her olive eyes, staring at it in the mirror ruefully. It was ivory pale and round as a peach, and with each passing day, it felt more and more like a curse.

God, this is too much. I need to get some exercise, she admitted to herself. This truth had been hanging over her head pregnantly for months.

Tomorrow, she resolved. Tomorrow, for real this time! Pulling up her powder blue underwear around her broad hips, she took off her glasses and climbed into bed.

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8:57 am. Jenney's black hoodie closely framed her dozy porcelain face as she sat on the downtown bus. She was almost never up this early. Her mousy hair draped over her thick glasses messily.

She stared blankly out the window at the swirling chaos of rush hour, daydreaming about a perfect figure. Before long—not long enough, she thought—she was standing at the large glass doors of Push It!, the hip new downtown gym.

In the ladies' washroom, she stood in a toilet stall and began to switch into her gym clothing. Unbuttoning her jeans, she ran her cold fingers down her hip, then behind, feeling her big left buttock struggling against the dark blue denim.

With a sigh, she wiggled free of her jeans and pulled her green gym shorts up around her milky thighs.

Finding her way to a treadmill sitting inconspicuously in the corner, she set it to "1" and began walking at a snail's pace upon it. All around her, sweaty, preoccupied people trudged and loud dance music blared. This, she could handle. A nice discrete stroll on the machine, and if she did this for a few hours every day...

"Hello," she heard from behind her.

It was a voice so monotone that she found it startling. Out of the blind spot between her glasses and her face, she saw a very tall woman approach her.

The woman's skin was an unblemished deep ebony hue. Long black hair surrounding her slender head in a kinetic, fluffy halo. Her eyes were even duskier still, almond-shaped and razor sharp.

In Jenney's relatively short life, this woman was the most radiant and deeply alluring person she'd ever seen before.

"Slowpoke," the woman said as she tapped the buttons on the machine, causing the speed to accelerate rapidly. "Oh my God," Jenney said, wide-eyed, as her legs struggled to keep up with the pace.

"You should have it on at least level 7 or you'll be here all day," the woman said, crossing her sinuous arms over her perky tank-topped bosom.

Jenney could feel her whole body shake, not only with the increased speed of the machine, but also with a continued anxiousness. Everything this woman said felt like an acknowledgment of Jenney's "problem".

"We'll do a free consultation down at the gym tonight," the woman added casually.

Jenney felt a panic rise now, as this request seemed strange. Yet it was issued in such a casual fashion that it crept under her defenses.

"Oh! Um, that would be, um, really cool?" Jenney sputtered as her enforced jog suddenly started to become exhausting.

"11:45 pm. The gate will be drawn, but you'll knock and I will let you in. We'll talk here," the athletic woman added as she hopped off of the neighboring belt, her powerful calves tensing as she hit the floor.

Jenney quickly noted that her name tag said "Marjam Adara". At least that's what it looked like; the woman's long legs swiftly propelled her back down the stairs before Jenney could scarcely turn to say anything else.

Beads of sweat quickly formed on the young girl's forehead and back, her heart racing now, and she knew it was more than the treadmill doing that to her.

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Back home, Jenney paced around her junk-strewn bedroom. The memory of the mysterious woman's gorgeous face haunted the young girl. Still, she was unsure.

Pausing in front of her mirror, she scrunched her tiny toes inside of her converse and took a deep breath. I have to do this! I have to ditch this big fat ass. I can't go to college with it, she thought to herself determinedly. A tingle ran through her body as she realized that 11:45 pm was fast approaching.

The bus ride back to the gym that night was much more peaceful and quiet than it had been earlier in the morning. Exiting at her stop on 35th st., she stood at the end of the block, hesitating a moment, before walking towards the gym.

She checked the time; it was 11:43. The streets were unusually bare.

The gym looked closed, aside from a single light on the bottom floor. She rapped upon the gate, trying to peer through its dusty slats to be able to see if she could spot "Marjam Adara".

At first there was no reply. Jenney's apprehension grew as she stood for a whole minute without hearing anything, and she couldn't see much through the cracks, either.

Suddenly, the gate rose up about half way. She saw a pair of well-formed shins closely encircled by the tight shiny cloth of track pants, leading down into a pair of clean black Nikes.

"Who is it," she heard spoken by that now familiar dry voice on the other side.

Jenney stuttered. "Oh hi! This is Marjam Arada?" She immediately winced as she realized she'd made a blunder. "Oh, sorry, I meant—"

"Adara," the woman corrected her equably.

"Yes, oh duh! I swear I had it right in my head, haha..." Jenney's weak laughter trailed off into an awkward silence.

"Name," the voice behind the gate intoned.

"Sorry, umm. My name is Jenney Chesterfield, you told me to come back tonight for training or like, aerobic, um, help?"

"Oh. Yes. You're the girl with the short brown hair and the glasses." Jenney bit her lip. At least she didn't say she was the girl with the big butt.

"Oh...yeah, that's me!" Jenney said, immediately regretting her spastically misgauged level of chirpiness.

"You were two minutes early. It's now 11:45. Come inside,"

She heard the front door being opened from behind the gate. Jenney ducked under quickly and stepped into the darkened gym. The gate descended behind her the minute she was inside.

The woman's presence was as effortlessly commanding as ever. She fixed Jenney with her fiery gaze a moment and immediately the young girl felt as if an insect under a looking glass.

Silently, this trim sylph disengaged the young girl, turned, and walked the stairs to the unlit second floor. Jenney followed, clinging to the hand rail awkwardly. She wasn't sure what she was being led to, but she assumed it was not far away.

Now almost in pitch blackness, she reached the second floor to find the woman waiting for her at the top. All around them, large black silhouettes of aerobics machinery stretched out across the floor in neat rows.

The spotted panoramic view of downtown offered the only semblance of a light source here, tiny wiggling specks of light like wallpaper along the expanse of the window.

"Spit out your gum."

Jenney flinched. Why was she being spoken to this way? The woman sounded almost like one of her school teachers.

Still, she complied, removing the sticky wad from her mouth and tossing it carefully in the small wastebasket near the stairs. Strangely, she spotted what looked like a suitcase on the floor next to it, but she didn't have much time to ponder its use.

Ms. Adara took one step closer to her, and eyed her wardrobe for a second.

"Take your shoes and sweatshirt off, and step on the scale, dear."

Dear? Something felt odd to Jenney about this woman's tone. What, in fact, was she doing here?

The absurdness of what she was doing kept threatening to creep into her mind, but each time Ms. Adara stared at her, she felt her thoughts cloud and her body swell with that peculiar desire to remain obedient.

She spotted the scale sitting a few feet from her on the floor as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

The girl slipped out of her hoodie an then began peeling away her red hi-top converse until they popped off of her tiny feet. She then turned and looked reluctantly at the scale. Protesting was not an option, it seemed, especially when her orders were so clear.

Stepping on the scale, she felt it buckle slightly. She shut her eyes, not wanting to be reminded of her weight—numbers being tallied by a cold machine beneath her, defining her within seconds.

"161 lbs."

Jenney groaned under her breath, then looked at her feet. "I know...I'm sorry..."

"You apologize too much. Now be quiet until I'm done."

Jenney's heart was beating a mile a minute now. Being spoken to like this bothered her on one level, yet she could not for any reason figure why it inspired within her a conflicting rush of arousal, her soft clitoris and nipples privately inflamed.

A tape measure was brought out. First she was measured from her head to feet.

"5 ft. 7." Jenney merely nodded, her eyes still shut.

"How old are you, Jenney,"

"uh, 18, Miss."

"Hmm," Ms. Adara uttered, eyeing the young girl cautiously. "Let's make sure that's in writing," she said, opening the bottom drawer of the corner file cabinet. "Tell me your last name again."

"Chesterfield," Jenney replied.

Her trainer rifled through the documents for a moment. Cabrera, Campbell, Chandler... "Chesterfield. I see. Just turned 18 last week. I wish you a belated happy birthday, then," the woman said, looking back at the girl with a raised eyebrow. "Did you celebrate yet?"

"Oh, Thanks! Uh, yeah, I guess. My parents took me out to dinner," Jenney said shyly.

Ms. Adara's face went blank again as she placed Jenney's registration form back in the drawer and closed it.

"Well, Jenney. In any case, you have the heart rate of someone well over twice your age. We'll have to get that up," she said with another unsettling glimmer of something lurking underneath her impassive veneer.

The confused young girl merely nodded. Suddenly she felt arrested by the warm sensation of Ms. Adara's hands about her, wrapping the measuring tape around her waist. With their arrival she felt another electric tingle that she found strangely radiated to her crotch and nipples, inflaming them.

"Your waist, 31 inches."

Jenney looked at the floor in shame. Her waistline was one thing, but she knew the worst part was just about to happen.

"Now your hips," Ms. Adara said as she hovered just an inch from Jenney's body.

The measuring tape was slowly lowered, tickling Jenney's thighs as it slackened and expanded to encircle the whole of her wide, bubble-round ass. She shut her eyes tight, waiting for the ultimate humiliation. Knowing that it would be there in plain digits for her to never forget.

"Interesting," she heard Ms. Adara say with vague amusement now coloring her normally flat voice.

The word interesting skewered Jenney's ears like hot pokers, and she knew that what was immediately to come was going to be even worse.

"Your hips...49 inches."

Jenney's heart sunk and her face began to deeply flush. There it was, her "interesting" figure in plain numbers. She felt a rush of inexplicable shame and guilt well within her.

"I know, I'm sorry," she thoughtlessly mumbled before biting her tongue. "Oh! I'm sorr--uh, I mean,"

"Shush," she heard again, this time spoken in a forceful manner that legitimately scared her. "Sit down there," Ms. Adara instructed, pointing at the floor with a stiff index finger.

Holding her breath to stifle another apology, the young girl obeyed without another word, sitting Indian-style on the rubber mattress.

At this point, Jenney felt the urge to flee. This woman was scaring her a bit now, and as undeniably beautiful as she was, there seemed to be something positively strange about the way she acted and talked.

"Why did you come here," the woman asked.

"Um," she said as she looked at the floor again, "I uh. I hate my butt," Jenney said, her face flushing a deep crimson as she shut her eyes.

"Interesting," she heard in her ears again. Ms. Adara's hot, fresh breath now beat down upon her shoulders as she leaned in more closely.

"In that case, what we need to do is very simple. Your overall body weight is easily correctible. But for individual body parts, spot-treating fat is extremely difficult."

"Oh..." Jenney could only reply, worrying now that she was being set up for disappointment.

"However," Ms. Adara continued, "while fat allocation is largely genetic, there are environmental factors that contribute to it as well. And we can modify your relationship to those factors."

Jenney began to smile weakly and managed to look up at the woman.

"Oh! So, that's good, right? I mean...okay, so I may never be a runway model, I can at least look normal," she blurted, rubbing her thick knees together to stop her from yammering further.

Her eyes descended to Ms. Adara's chin, not daring to go lower nor higher. The woman merely stared down at her. That vast silence she always employed seemed to crush Jenney's words into so much blather.

"...uh, I mean...right?" Jenney whinnied reflexively as her heartbeat reached a crescendo. Ms. Adara smirked and stood up straight, her warmth lingering about the girl's shoulders.

"Get up."

Jenney stood up in a flash.

"Pull your pants down," she heard spoken from out of the darkness. Her entire body shook as if shocked by some invisible current of electricity.

Did she just hear what she thought she heard? Jenney gasped and stumbled back, almost tripping. Reaching out behind her, she felt a cold wall reach her palms. She pressed her body against it, feeling how solid it was, her heart pulsing like mad.

"Wh..what?" she said, her ears trying to follow the direction of the breathing.

"Pull your pants down," she heard Ms. Adara say again in the same dry voice.

"But, Ms. Adara, why..."

"You have ten seconds."

"What?!" Jenney said, panicking. "Maybe I should go," she started, sliding her arms outward against the wall to try and locate the stairway.

"One. Two."

The young girl immediately considered running, but then she realized that the gate had been locked and she didn't know how to open it. And, besides...

"Three. Four."

That voice. It was so all-encompassing. Ms. Adara spoke as if she could already see the future, and knew that Jenney would do nothing but comply.

"Five. Six. Seven..."

Jenney quickly reached for her belt buckle, peeling the leather away from the metal nib. She felt her soft waist expand slightly from the decreased pressure as her pants slackened a bit.

Her fingers trembling, she undid her front button and pulled down her zipper. I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought to herself, but her hands kept working as if possessed.

"Eight..."

With a tug, the young girl pulled her pants down around her curvy thighs and she felt her huge butt spill out, now covered only by her thin blue underwear.

She stood there with her pants around her red converse hi-tops, feeling deeply ashamed for being so oddly excited by this. Blood rushed again to her crotch and nipples, and then to her face, her cheeks warming over, feeling herself flush red in the blackness around her.

"Nine..."

Jenney shut her eyes.

"Ten."

Suddenly the insides of Jenney's eyelids flashed crimson. Startled, she lifted them. The room's lights had been turned on.

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Her vision blurred, she struggled to maintain her posture as her sneakers knocked around in the binding confines of her pant legs.

"Oh..." Jenney let out, feeling incredibly exposed in front of this towering woman. She looks even more gorgeous, Jenney thought to herself, again not daring to speak out of line.

"Look at me, girl," she heard from the hushed voice slowly drawing nearer to her.

Against her instincts, she did as told, meekly meeting the woman's penetrating black eyes.

Jenney trembled all over now, feeling her thick nipples poking dramatically from under her plain white t-shirt, her clitoris now greatly engorged.

With all this light, she knew it was only a matter of time before the copious amounts of wetness starting to form between her legs formed a visible spot on her cotton underwear. She bit her lower lip. She knew she had to answer.

"You will know how to address me. My name is Ms. Adara. That is it. No "Miss", or "Ma'am", and certainly not my first name, which you can't seem to even pronounce correctly."

Jenney hung her head, silent.

Now close enough to touch, the woman reached out, gently grazing this young girl's face with her trim, unpainted nails, and smiled more deeply now, flashing just a glimpse of her impeccably white teeth.

Jenney felt this touch and almost melted with its arrival, the electricity shooting through her body now even more intensely. "Oh my god," she let out, the wet spot now forming on her undergarment as she'd feared.

Ms. Adara gripped Jenney's short brown hair with an astonishing level of manual strength as she drew her closer."You hate your butt, hm? So you won't mind if I take it for my own, then."

"Wh—what?" Jenney stammered. Before she could say another word, she felt Ms. Adara draw tug harshly now, causing her to wince and stumble forward another step.

At this proximity, she was eye-level with the Push It! logo plastered across her trainer's sharp bust line.

Their bodies were now nearly pressed together, the woman's hot aura enveloping her. Jenney's soft stomach seemed to fit into the concave curve of Ms. Adara's abs like a puzzle piece.

She then felt felt her ass being grabbed.

Ms. Adara's full hand only took up a quarter region of the young girl's vast backside, yet with one forceful squeeze, Jenney felt the magnitude of the gesture acutely; it was not only her butt, but her heart that was being claimed by her trainer. The next question she heard, however, shocked her even further.

"First we'll begin by plugging it shut."

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Even in her dazed state, Jenney could not help but react very strongly to this statement.

"What?!" she squealed, thinking of pulling away, but not daring to lest she lose a clump of hair and possibly much more.

Plugging it shut? Even though she only half understood, the words alone caused her thick rosy butt cheeks to tense.

Revealingly, more wetness began to seep down from her crotch, now soaking her inner thighs with a pungent nectar.

"You mean like, um," she began, her scalp burning now, her quivering legs feeling weak, still bound together by her sneaker-locked jeans.

"Like, up my," She shut her eyes in a panic, her hands still at her sides, her own stubby fingers digging into her thighs fretfully,

"...butthole?"

Ms. Adara simply stared down at her, seeming to revel in the lingering awkwardness of Jenney's question for a moment, before finally releasing the clutch on her locks. Jenney's weak arms twitched a moment, as she felt a sudden irrational impulse to hug or reach out to her trainer, but they remained still.

"Once your shithole is plugged shut," Ms. Adara said now with such unflinching impassivity that it immediately terrified Jenney, "you will of course need to be more selective in your eating habits."

She paused, seeing the injection of raw fear register on the young girl's flushed face, and then added, "This will aid the dietary aspect of your training."

"My wha—oh my God," Jenney let out, the room spinning around her. Did she just hear the word shithole? Is that how she's going to be spoken to from now on?