The Girl with the Amazing Ass

There she went again, the girl with the sweet ass. Donnie froze in the middle of the street to check her out: she was jogging up the block, across the street from him.

Her cheeks were nearly perfectly round, slightly large, and defiant of gravity. They stretched her little pink running shorts, and they bounced and hove with a life of their own. Her jogging steps were a little too high and jumpy, not like a professional runner, so her ass shimmied in a hypnotic seizure that commanded Donnie’s fullest attention.

A blaring car horn shattered his focus, making him do a hysterical little dance in the middle of the street. Worse, it attracted the attention of the jogger, who spun sharply around and caught him staring at her. Donnie waved an apology to the driver and slithered to the sidewalk like the creepy little worm he felt like. Glancing up the street, he saw the attractive jogger had zipped to the other side of the boulevard, obscured from view by a row of parked cars.

He cursed under his breath. This was the second time he’d spotted her—the Girl with the Amazing Ass, as he entitled her. She had huge, expressive eyes (a little too accusatory for his liking), a full mane of bobbed, cinnamon-colored hair, a trim little body, and that astounding pair of buttocks. Donnie had only seen her twice, and his body lost all control each time. His heart began pounding, his knees threatened to give out, and all coherent thought fled his brain. Who was she? Where did she live? How could he ever meet her?

Donnie had given these questions some thought, actually. Going back to his apartment, he opened up Google Maps and created a custom map named “Amazing Ass”. On it he pegged the intersection where he just spotted her, and then the place he’d first seen her. Not much of a trajectory, but it was a  place to start: tracing an imaginary line from the first sighting to the second site, he extended it to a part of his neighborhood where, for science’s sake (he told himself) he would start hanging out.

And it wasn’t awful science. Two more weeks went by with no result, of course, with Donnie biking through in the evenings or walking to catch a different bus at a slightly further stop, just to pass through the potential area of her house.

It was on the third week, when he was biking one block south of his targeted area, that he accidentally spotted her. He was returning home, dejected at his failures and appalled at his ongoing desperation, when a woman got out of a small car and unloaded a bag of groceries. This was unremarkable until she walked up the walk to an apartment quad and bent over to pick up the neighborhood paper.

Her glorious ass presented itself, this time in a fleecy sundress. Her calves and thighs were toned and firm, and her hips spread in bending to display her round and proud buttocks under the tasteful scrim of fabric. Donnie nearly fell of his bike. He swore he could hear trumpets, could see beams of golden light from on high, blessing this spectacle as a sacred gift to humanity. She stood up again, unlocked the door, and disappeared inside.

Donnie memorized the house number and street, then sat on the curb and waited for his body to calm down and function properly again.

Then came Step Two, in his quest to talk to the Girl with the Amazing Ass. As creepy as this step was, Donnie was a little impressed with himself for having thought of it. He’d gone to an office supply store and bought a preprinted pad of paper, some kind of official-looking application form, and a clipboard. He biked out to a thrift store and plundered the t-shirt racks until he found the ideal specimen: a day-glow yellow shirt with a globe and a short inspirational message on it.

Prizes attained, he hastily generated a webpage around this t-shirt. He scanned the image for a web banner, copy-pasted some paragraphs from nonprofit sites, and even fronted for a cheap custom domain for it. It looked ambitious but without real design talent: the perfect nonprofit webpage.

All this hassle, all this expenditure… Donnie looked at himself in the mirror and asked himself what kind of person he’d become. Did normal people do this? But when he thought of that perfect, perfect ass, he told himself he might as well pursue this all the way or else he’d be consumed with regret for the rest of his life.

One week later he was walking up the Girl’s street, clipboard in hand, dressed as a canvasser in his new shirt. All he had to do was make a show of ringing some doorbells, asking her neighbors if they had time to talk about blah-dee-blah social cause. He counted on the fact that most people regarded any concerns outside of their own as trivial and annoying, and the people on her street did not let him down in this respect.

So it looked completely natural that he should walk up to her building. It was completely in keeping with the last 20 minutes, that he should ring the doorbells on her building. And as it was early afternoon on a weekday, most of the people in this building weren’t home, so all he had to do was peek inside the window beside the door, write down the names on the four mailboxes inside, then look them up on Google and Whitepages once he got home…

Most of the people weren’t home, but one was. On the ground floor, within eye-shot of the window against which Donnie’s head was pressed, a door clicked and receded into blackness, and then out stepped the Girl with the Amazing Ass.

Donnie lost his breath. He straightened up. His palms went instantly sweaty and he dropped the pen from his clipboard. When he bent to pick it up, the front door swung open and a pair of women’s cross-trainers stepped up.

“Yes?” said an impatient voice.

His fingers fumbled for the pen. Slowly he started to rise, staring at her sculpted calves, her powerful thighs, and her sundress of otherworldly grace. Without revealing much, it hinted at her flat belly and a pair of nicely shaped breasts, respectably sized breasts. Donnie’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. When he finally stood up at full height, his head swam and all his blood felt minty-cool.

There was a flash. Donnie reflexively flung up the clipboard to block the bright light. When he brought it down again, she was holding up a smartphone with “911” dialed and her thumb hovering over the Call button.

“I just took your photo.” Her serious eyes bore laser beams into his skull. “Don’t say a word. Just get in here and walk into my apartment. I’ll follow.”

Donnie’s eyes went huge and his jaw wobbled. What was happening, what was going on… He managed to nod and step across the threshold, up the few steps to her place, and he went inside. The room was unlit, dim with the ambient light from the street glowing through curtains; the sun was on the other side of the building.

As his eyes adjusted, he started to turn to look at the Girl with the Amazing Ass, but there was a sharp blow to the back of his head, and he collapsed upon her hardwood floor. He split his eyebrow and banged up his elbow badly, landing wrong on a wrist. The Girl started kicking him violently, shoving him across the floor until she could shut the door. He heard a deadbolt thunk into place, and the rattle of a security chain sliding down its rail.

Panicking, he attempted to push himself up, but his ribs rejected that idea and rebelled. Abruptly her knees drove into his back and the Girl’s full weight pinned him to the floor. Before he could say a word, there was a sharp stab in his neck, and the lights went out in Donnie’s head.

*   *   *

The strange apartment was blurry, but the lights were on.

Donnie was lying on a couch. He could feel the crudely woven upholstery. It was a murky field of avocado green below and behind him. His pulse thudded in his head, and it was painful to breathe, so he just lay there for a moment.

Then he remembered the Girl with the Amazing Ass. Where was she? He turned his head to see, but details across the room were too indistinct. At least there was no movement over there… was he alone?

He heard her voice behind the couch. She was walking around. “…biking around my house a few times, getting closer. It was just a matter of time.”

“Hello,” he croaked. He was startled to realize his throat was painfully dry.

She talked some more but wandered out of his hearing. When she returned: “…traced the text back to three other sites, but this kid really went all out. …No, his license says he’s your age, actually. …Not my type…” And then she faded out again.

Donnie strained to roll to his side, then pushed himself painfully upright. His muscles complained archly about this behavior. Maybe this wasn’t a couch: his legs lay straight ahead of him, like he was sitting flat on the floor. He reached around but couldn’t feel the back of the couch. He rubbed his eyes and they began to focus: the edge of the cushion was right ahead of him, except it was huge. A huge seam with huge woven fibers, a yard past his shoes. What the hell.

“…into my place and injected him, no problem.” The Girl with the Amazing Ass rounded the arm of the couch. Donnie turned to look at her, then looked up at her. She was tremendous, shooting up into the heavens. Far, far above, her arm was bent and holding an iPhone to her head. She was looking straight ahead, but he could only see the bottom of her chin and both her nostrils, one cheekbone maybe.

“Hey… lady, I’m s-sorry…” He coughed dryly and clutched his throat.

Her strong thighs strode massively in front of the couch. He could see every last tendon tensing, pulsing, and shifting beneath her smooth skin. She stopped in front of him, but all he could see were her thighs, the backs of her knees. They were enormous, as though he were kneeling behind her with his head very, very close to her legs. But he was clearly sitting on the couch.

Donnie looked up again. Her sundress bloomed out in a wide shelter all around him and not that far above. This was impossible, he knew, but he was looking straight up her dress. Her prominent buttocks stood out with exaggerated pride, larger and rounder than he ever recalled, and they were casting a wide shadow over him.

She wears a thong, he thought dimly. This is perfect.

“Yeah, hurry,” the Girl continued. “Maybe there’ll be something left by the time you get here.”

And with that, the Amazing Ass descended from the heavens. Her hips widened a little, the muscles in her thighs tensed and bulged along their undersides, and her twin, perfectly spherical buttcheeks surrounded little Donnie in an irresistible, all-encompassing embrace.

Image: earliest source, “Morning Jog,” Booty of the Day, Nov. 20, 2012

3 thoughts on “The Girl with the Amazing Ass

  1. I’m unsure what to think of this entry. Donnie is clearly out of his league here, and I wonder what he imagined would happen. What did he mean by “pursuing this all the way”? Does he imagine that all he has to do is show up and the woman will throw herself at him? Part of me wants to wish him well, since he’s going after what he wants… but most of me thinks he’s a creep for doing it in the manner he chose. I’ve roamed around the homes of boys I liked. Well, I did it with my friends when we were kids, but I wasn’t pursuing anything “all the way” the way Donnie is. He should have been content to observe, and move on.

    Or if he’d chosen to talk to her, he shouldn’t have devised such an underhanded, silly plan. It’s clear he got shrunk for all his trouble, and then she sat on him. But who’s going to show up later, at her house? What is she going to do to him that provokes her to say there may be something “left of him”? Did you intend to write another part to this story? Also, I don’t see an image credit here. Would you be able to post one?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Donnie absolutely is a creep. He lacks the social skills to approach a woman and strike up a conversation (of course, today’s messaging is that under no circumstances should a man ever do this).

      As for what he thought would happen, he honestly hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he envisioned a porn in his mind, where once inside he would suddenly gain the verbal skills to befriend and then woo her. Maybe he thought he’d just give her an improvised fundraising spiel and gain her contact information, then agonize over what to do with this later. He is horny and stupid, and the one worsens the other.

      I do intend to write more, right after I build my empire. Or maybe sooner than that. I’ll search for the image again and credit it as best I can, thank you for pointing that out.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Apropos of very little, I like the image of each of us having a distinct empire or country or valley where our creations dwell and visiting each other requires a border crossing of some kind. Perhaps a visa. Immunizations for some. Definitely some very specific wardrobes.

        Achtung! You are now leaving the Aborigen sector. Average- and small-sized asses ahead.

        Liked by 1 person

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