Carlo was very proud of himself.
Somehow, he had managed to convince his boss at Fantasy Point Amusement Park that the place would benefit from some publicity-grabbing "star power" in the form of Vince, a c-list young guy from a moderately famous singing group that had broken up two years ago.
Mr. Gregg, the boss at Fantasy Point Amusement Park, figured that his head entertainment engineer could be on to something......
Somehow, he had managed to convince his boss at Fantasy Point Amusement Park that the place would benefit from some publicity-grabbing "star power" in the form of Vince, a c-list young guy from a moderately famous singing group that had broken up two years ago.
Mr. Gregg, the boss at Fantasy Point Amusement Park, figured that his head entertainment engineer could be on to something......
If it was in the budget, why not make his top employee happy and yank in more paying guests to enter the park? Maybe some girls and their mothers would be thrilled by the idea of watching some hot boy sing and wiggle around onstage while their fathers and brothers were busy riding the rollercoasters?
Unless, of course, the fathers, brothers, and boyfriends at the park would prefer to join them in watching Vince do twice-a-day stage shows......
Vince was always everyone's favorite in the singing group. The other members of his boy band (that's what it really was, let's face it)--before they had jetted off to different parts of the USA to move on with the rest of their lives after their final album--would sometimes get jealous but, mainly, they didn't mind that the attention was constantly focused on their co-worker. They understood why.
With his painfully handsome face, bright green eyes, pale creamy skin, and luscious dark hair, Vince was always quite the showstopper. The 23-year-old had one of those bodies that seemed to stay permanently athletic no matter how much beer, burgers, and road food he fed himself. No love-handles for Vince. No belly, only a nice little six-pack set of abs which infuriated everyone since he hardly ever worked-out.
But Vince has a BUTT.
An incredible one that launched numerous Instagram fan accounts, Tumblr photo sets, and occasionally trended on Twitter. Vince was most famous for his extravagant good looks and bulging, super-sized, insanely-round bubble buns--always looking like they could suddenly burst out of the back of his pants at any moment. No one really mentioned his voice or his stage moves. No one cared. All that everyone talked about was how hot Vince is physically.
Whenever sort-of-famous Vince was written about in the magazines, in the newspapers, online, or on social media, it was in the context of his physical attributes: his beautiful face, his sexy body, and--of course--his over-proportioned, juicy, round ass.
Vince was built just like his much-more-famous father: a heart-throb French-Italian actor (also renowned for having a sensational booty) who was in countless European movies 3 decades ago before he retired, bedded a bunch of actresses and showgirls, spent his days cruising around the Mediterranean on his friends' yachts, and then finally settled down with an American swimsuit model (Vince's mother who raised him in California). The international dad was what initially drew the record company to include Vince in their boy band project a while back, hoping that they could create their own worldwide superstar. It didn't quite work that way. What they ended up with, instead, was a bratty, spoiled, young man who was fantastic to look at.....although his talent was average at best and his work ethic much worse.
After doing some back-and-forth negotiating, Mr. Greg--the CEO of Fantasy Point Amusement Park--realized that hiring Vince to do stage shows inside the park wouldn't be horribly expensive. The boss had watched some of Vince's music videos and performances on YouTube so he understood the appeal.
"We're aiming for Fantasy Point to be a more multifacted entertainment entity so hiring this guy to perform here seems like a step in the right direction," declared Mr. Gregg during an early morning meeting.
"I couldn't agree more, boss!" Carlo grinned across the table as if he had just won a million dollars. The other bigwigs at Fantasy Point just side-eyed him and chuckled to each other.
"Back in the olden day, we had to watch out for bosses hiring gals with big bossoms.....now that the gays are in charge, they want to hire big-bottomed young men!" whispered one 70-something account supervisor to another.
Vince was a bargain to hire, actually. Vince's record company--having no interest in attempting to cultivate a solo album for the difficult, ungrateful brat--was simply waiting for the contract to expire while they brushed him off on a lower-level talent manager named Evan. They were happy to get rid of him, to make some money off of Vince until that old contract died. According to their numbers, Vince did have a small amount of fans left from back 4 years ago (the prime of the boy band before their album sales plummeted) but they weren't enough for the record company to care about.
So off to Fantasy Point in North Carolina went Vince and his manager Evan. Good riddance. It was going to be a far cry from Beverly Hills and MTV awards shows. But the money was decent (Mr. Gregg made sure of that). They would be staying at a suite at the Fantasy Point Hotel and Resort for at least 8 months unless they decided to extend his performance schedule. It would be 2 shows a day, Wednesdays through Sundays, until the end of the year as contracted. Vince wasn't looking forward to it at all but he was at the point where he needed the money.
Soon Fantasy Point would have 2(!!) incredibly hot, fantastically bubble-assed young guys to draw in the crowds: blonde Max as their superhero character company mascot and now a somewhat famous ex-boy bander too. Of all the feats that Carlo that managed to coordinate this year, it was this hiring coup that he was the most proud of. He did, after all, love looking at sexy guys at work.
*****************
After a long flight from Los Angeles to Charlotte, North Carolina, Vince was getting irritable and impatient.
As much of a terrible jerk Vince could be, his manager found himself to be constantly entranced by his 23-year-old client. Vince was so awfully, dangerously, insufferably good-looking. With a strand of chestnut hair hanging in front of his right eye, Vince glared at Evan, demanding an answer.
"How long is this drive to the carnival going to be?" said the pop star, resplendent in shiny, gunmetal-gray pants (perfectly fitted to accommodate that bulbous rear end) and a white button-up oxford shirt.
"About 35 minutes?" answered 46-year-old Evan, always neurotic, overwhelmed, and blushing. Today Evan was wearing a garish, tropical print shirt over his chubby torso which annoyed and embarrassed Vince to be seen with. "I think that I see our luggage now," spoke the dorky manager.
Two of Vince's designer suitcases appeared on the baggage conveyor belt followed by Evan's decidedly cheaper tote. The arriving luggage area of the airport was somewhat busy today but nobody had asked Vince for an autograph or selfie yet. This also annoyed Vince.
Evan scooped up the luggage and the two men hailed a taxi, giving the driver (a gruff, balding former farmer) the address to Fantasy Point Amusement Park.
"I don't need the address. I'm drivin' people over there all the time," the old-timer mentioned.
"Make it quick, man," said Vince, rudely.
"You got it, pretty boy," spoke the driver under his breath.
As soon as the two men had walked towards the taxi, the driver noticed four things:
1.) that the chunky guy trailing behind the young man was carrying all the luggage like some kind of overworked, love-sick puppy dog
2.) the young man was almost too beautiful-looking for his own good
3.) the young man had an over-the-top, big keister and his tight designer pants were creeping up between his breathtaking, ultra-round ass cheeks
4.) the fact that the young man looked like he would be a cocky brat
The driver, a decent judge of character after all of these years as well as being someone who notices all details, found himself to be correct on all 4 things.
After a 45-minute drive from the airport to the Fantasy Point Amusement Park offices parking lot, Vince had let out plenty of passive-aggressive comments and overconfident statements towards his manager and the driver. The old driver was relieved when they reached the destination at the offices gates and the two men exited the car.
"Sir, could you wait here for about half an hour?" pleaded Evan.
"Okay but it'll cost ya," replied the driver. "What for?"
"We're going to have a brief meeting with the CEO here and then we'll need you to drive us to the Fantasy Point Hotel and Resort afterwards. Okay? I'll pay you for the wait time of course." Evan wasn't used to the North Carolina humidity; a few beads of sweat rolled down his reddening forehead.
"That's fine. No more than a half-hour, got it?" asked the driver.
"No problem. Thank you." Evan extended his hand towards the gates, encouraging Vince to walk forward. The old driver noticed that Evan's eyes seemed glued to that young man's big bottom; the glutes bouncing like a couple of rubber volleyballs had been stuffed down the back of those snug, silvery britches. He couldn't blame the guy. That ass, the driver figured, could turn any man gay.
After signing in at the guards' gate, Vince and Evan met up with Carlo who was waiting for them at the front of the office lobby.
"You must be Vince! It's great to meet you! I like your work a lot," said Carlo, enthusiastically shaking Vince's hand. He was struck by the fact that, in real life, Vince was even sexier and more luscious than he appeared on-camera if that was even possible.
"Evan, the manager! Keeping this guy in line, huh? Great, great!" Though switching his handshake to Evan, Carlo couldn't turn his eyes away from Vince, making Evan feel utterly ignored (as usual).
Carlo led the other two men to a large workroom that was dedicated to constructing and tailoring the many costumes and employee uniforms for Fantasy Point Amusement Park. Waiting for them there was CEO Mr. Gregg.
"Our new acquisition," said the boss, stepping forward to greet the pop star, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure. I'm Mr. Gregg. I believe that we've talked on the phone."
"Uh, actually, I'm the one that you talked with." Evan stepped forward and extended his hand to Mr. Gregg. "Thanks for giving Vince here the opportunity. We're really going to be drawing in the crowds and adding to park attendance. We can guarantee you that!"
Vince rolled his eyes at his desperate-seeming manager. "So why are we here right now?" Vince asked, sounding completely bored. Mr. Gregg was quietly shocked by Vince's clearly ungrateful demeanor.
"Well, Vince, before your performances start next week, we have to whip up some new outfits for you," Mr. Gregg answered.
"I brought a bunch of clothes with me. I don't need anything from you guys," replied Vince dismissively.
"Hmm..." Mr. Gregg--and the other employees who had gathered around to meet this semi-famous addition to their team--didn't quite know how to respond to this. It now was obvious to them that bratty, juicy-assed Vince was going to be a difficult divo. "Vince....we have certain standards here at Fantasy Point and we want to make sure that quality is consistent all throughout the park, from the people selling ice cream all the way up to our top performers.....like you're going to be."
Vince suddenly noticed that Carlo's eyes had turned away from the boss and were gazing longingly at something across the workspace. At the opposite corner of the room was a super-gorgeous young blond guy, decked out in a head-to-toe glistening white spandex superhero outfit, getting his arms measured by a duo of female costumers.
"Max is that young gentleman right over there," pointed Mr. Gregg, redirecting everyone's attention, "and he's getting another costume made for the hero character he plays in the park. We employee top-notch seamstresses and designers to make our visions come to life. Hey, Max! Stay where you are but say hello to Vince. He's going to be doing stage shows out in the park pretty soon."
"Hey! Nice to meet you," yelled Max from across the room as the costumers ran a measuring tape across his chisled chest. Max was blown away by the beauty of this new, chestnut-haired co-worker. This Vince dude seemed vaguely familiar..... Max wondered if Vince was some kind of actor or model that he had seen before somewhere. Someone like that but he wasn't quite sure.
The seamstresses turned Max in profile to the others so that they could measure his waist. Vince couldn't help but notice (especially due to that lycra outfit) how Max had an incredibly full, bodacious bubble ass......
It was an ass that you hardly ever see. An A++++ perfectly-round male mega-booty of the kind that launch a million jack-off fantasies. Not only was it a rare bottom, it was ultra-rare. Rare and unnervingly similar to Vince's own astronomically globular derriere.....
"What do they do?," Vince whispered to Evan, "They only hire guys with bubble butts like mine? This place is so gay....."
"No, that's not necessarily true," answered Evan, taken aback. "I'm sure that they only hire very talented people much like yourself." A little bead of sweat was dripping down Evan's forehead. It would take him a while to get used to the humid, sticky weather over here in North Carolina.
"Vince, we're going to need for you to strip down so that we can take your measurements," ordered Carlo, matter-of-factly.
"What?! Right now? Here!?" Vince was clearly pissed at being given this direction in front of a bunch of strangers.
"Yes, of course! Don't be shy; it's just part of being a performer here at Fantasy Point. No big deal...." Carlo moved forward and began unbuttoning Vince's shirt while a separate duo of female costumers unbuttoned and unzipped Vince's pants.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me....." growled Vince as Carlo removed Vince's shirt, hanging it carefully on a nearby rack. Carlo was delighted over Vince's naturally ripped, bare torso. The ladies pulled down Vince's pants, revealing his fantastically deluxxxe, smooth, creamy-white, super-sized thunder buns framed by a sexy, red jockstrap that lovingly cradled his goodies to perfection.
The room went completely silent except the sound of one of the seamstresses literally dropping a pin in wonderment over Vince's perfect jock body, jockstrap, and out-of-this-world butt melons as he stepped out of his pants.
"Huh.....," Carlo said, drooling. "....maybe it is a big deal.....a very, very big, big deal....." He was utterly hypnotized by Vince's massive booty.
"I want to stick my finger in it," very-quietly mumbled one of the costumers to another. "Will you give me $100 bucks if I do?"
"Yes!" giggled the other girl. "I mean No! I would but I don't have $100 bucks to give you right now! You're such a sick-o! hahaha!"
The costumers got to work, snapping into professionalism, quietly spreading the measuring tape across Vince's naked, hairless, galactically-thick ass cakes.
"Not only are we going to be making you some customized clothes for you to sing and perform in, we just came up with an interesting idea last night if you'd be willing to have us run it by you and your manager....," said Carlo, smirking. "Actually, it's something that I thought about doing a few months ago because I think that it could be an interesting addition to our brand at Fantasy Point."
Unless, of course, the fathers, brothers, and boyfriends at the park would prefer to join them in watching Vince do twice-a-day stage shows......
Vince was always everyone's favorite in the singing group. The other members of his boy band (that's what it really was, let's face it)--before they had jetted off to different parts of the USA to move on with the rest of their lives after their final album--would sometimes get jealous but, mainly, they didn't mind that the attention was constantly focused on their co-worker. They understood why.
With his painfully handsome face, bright green eyes, pale creamy skin, and luscious dark hair, Vince was always quite the showstopper. The 23-year-old had one of those bodies that seemed to stay permanently athletic no matter how much beer, burgers, and road food he fed himself. No love-handles for Vince. No belly, only a nice little six-pack set of abs which infuriated everyone since he hardly ever worked-out.
But Vince has a BUTT.
An incredible one that launched numerous Instagram fan accounts, Tumblr photo sets, and occasionally trended on Twitter. Vince was most famous for his extravagant good looks and bulging, super-sized, insanely-round bubble buns--always looking like they could suddenly burst out of the back of his pants at any moment. No one really mentioned his voice or his stage moves. No one cared. All that everyone talked about was how hot Vince is physically.
Whenever sort-of-famous Vince was written about in the magazines, in the newspapers, online, or on social media, it was in the context of his physical attributes: his beautiful face, his sexy body, and--of course--his over-proportioned, juicy, round ass.
Vince was built just like his much-more-famous father: a heart-throb French-Italian actor (also renowned for having a sensational booty) who was in countless European movies 3 decades ago before he retired, bedded a bunch of actresses and showgirls, spent his days cruising around the Mediterranean on his friends' yachts, and then finally settled down with an American swimsuit model (Vince's mother who raised him in California). The international dad was what initially drew the record company to include Vince in their boy band project a while back, hoping that they could create their own worldwide superstar. It didn't quite work that way. What they ended up with, instead, was a bratty, spoiled, young man who was fantastic to look at.....although his talent was average at best and his work ethic much worse.
After doing some back-and-forth negotiating, Mr. Greg--the CEO of Fantasy Point Amusement Park--realized that hiring Vince to do stage shows inside the park wouldn't be horribly expensive. The boss had watched some of Vince's music videos and performances on YouTube so he understood the appeal.
"We're aiming for Fantasy Point to be a more multifacted entertainment entity so hiring this guy to perform here seems like a step in the right direction," declared Mr. Gregg during an early morning meeting.
"I couldn't agree more, boss!" Carlo grinned across the table as if he had just won a million dollars. The other bigwigs at Fantasy Point just side-eyed him and chuckled to each other.
"Back in the olden day, we had to watch out for bosses hiring gals with big bossoms.....now that the gays are in charge, they want to hire big-bottomed young men!" whispered one 70-something account supervisor to another.
Vince was a bargain to hire, actually. Vince's record company--having no interest in attempting to cultivate a solo album for the difficult, ungrateful brat--was simply waiting for the contract to expire while they brushed him off on a lower-level talent manager named Evan. They were happy to get rid of him, to make some money off of Vince until that old contract died. According to their numbers, Vince did have a small amount of fans left from back 4 years ago (the prime of the boy band before their album sales plummeted) but they weren't enough for the record company to care about.
So off to Fantasy Point in North Carolina went Vince and his manager Evan. Good riddance. It was going to be a far cry from Beverly Hills and MTV awards shows. But the money was decent (Mr. Gregg made sure of that). They would be staying at a suite at the Fantasy Point Hotel and Resort for at least 8 months unless they decided to extend his performance schedule. It would be 2 shows a day, Wednesdays through Sundays, until the end of the year as contracted. Vince wasn't looking forward to it at all but he was at the point where he needed the money.
Soon Fantasy Point would have 2(!!) incredibly hot, fantastically bubble-assed young guys to draw in the crowds: blonde Max as their superhero character company mascot and now a somewhat famous ex-boy bander too. Of all the feats that Carlo that managed to coordinate this year, it was this hiring coup that he was the most proud of. He did, after all, love looking at sexy guys at work.
*****************
After a long flight from Los Angeles to Charlotte, North Carolina, Vince was getting irritable and impatient.
As much of a terrible jerk Vince could be, his manager found himself to be constantly entranced by his 23-year-old client. Vince was so awfully, dangerously, insufferably good-looking. With a strand of chestnut hair hanging in front of his right eye, Vince glared at Evan, demanding an answer.
"How long is this drive to the carnival going to be?" said the pop star, resplendent in shiny, gunmetal-gray pants (perfectly fitted to accommodate that bulbous rear end) and a white button-up oxford shirt.
"About 35 minutes?" answered 46-year-old Evan, always neurotic, overwhelmed, and blushing. Today Evan was wearing a garish, tropical print shirt over his chubby torso which annoyed and embarrassed Vince to be seen with. "I think that I see our luggage now," spoke the dorky manager.
Two of Vince's designer suitcases appeared on the baggage conveyor belt followed by Evan's decidedly cheaper tote. The arriving luggage area of the airport was somewhat busy today but nobody had asked Vince for an autograph or selfie yet. This also annoyed Vince.
Evan scooped up the luggage and the two men hailed a taxi, giving the driver (a gruff, balding former farmer) the address to Fantasy Point Amusement Park.
"I don't need the address. I'm drivin' people over there all the time," the old-timer mentioned.
"Make it quick, man," said Vince, rudely.
"You got it, pretty boy," spoke the driver under his breath.
As soon as the two men had walked towards the taxi, the driver noticed four things:
1.) that the chunky guy trailing behind the young man was carrying all the luggage like some kind of overworked, love-sick puppy dog
2.) the young man was almost too beautiful-looking for his own good
3.) the young man had an over-the-top, big keister and his tight designer pants were creeping up between his breathtaking, ultra-round ass cheeks
4.) the fact that the young man looked like he would be a cocky brat
The driver, a decent judge of character after all of these years as well as being someone who notices all details, found himself to be correct on all 4 things.
After a 45-minute drive from the airport to the Fantasy Point Amusement Park offices parking lot, Vince had let out plenty of passive-aggressive comments and overconfident statements towards his manager and the driver. The old driver was relieved when they reached the destination at the offices gates and the two men exited the car.
"Sir, could you wait here for about half an hour?" pleaded Evan.
"Okay but it'll cost ya," replied the driver. "What for?"
"We're going to have a brief meeting with the CEO here and then we'll need you to drive us to the Fantasy Point Hotel and Resort afterwards. Okay? I'll pay you for the wait time of course." Evan wasn't used to the North Carolina humidity; a few beads of sweat rolled down his reddening forehead.
"That's fine. No more than a half-hour, got it?" asked the driver.
"No problem. Thank you." Evan extended his hand towards the gates, encouraging Vince to walk forward. The old driver noticed that Evan's eyes seemed glued to that young man's big bottom; the glutes bouncing like a couple of rubber volleyballs had been stuffed down the back of those snug, silvery britches. He couldn't blame the guy. That ass, the driver figured, could turn any man gay.
After signing in at the guards' gate, Vince and Evan met up with Carlo who was waiting for them at the front of the office lobby.
"You must be Vince! It's great to meet you! I like your work a lot," said Carlo, enthusiastically shaking Vince's hand. He was struck by the fact that, in real life, Vince was even sexier and more luscious than he appeared on-camera if that was even possible.
"Evan, the manager! Keeping this guy in line, huh? Great, great!" Though switching his handshake to Evan, Carlo couldn't turn his eyes away from Vince, making Evan feel utterly ignored (as usual).
Carlo led the other two men to a large workroom that was dedicated to constructing and tailoring the many costumes and employee uniforms for Fantasy Point Amusement Park. Waiting for them there was CEO Mr. Gregg.
"Our new acquisition," said the boss, stepping forward to greet the pop star, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure. I'm Mr. Gregg. I believe that we've talked on the phone."
"Uh, actually, I'm the one that you talked with." Evan stepped forward and extended his hand to Mr. Gregg. "Thanks for giving Vince here the opportunity. We're really going to be drawing in the crowds and adding to park attendance. We can guarantee you that!"
Vince rolled his eyes at his desperate-seeming manager. "So why are we here right now?" Vince asked, sounding completely bored. Mr. Gregg was quietly shocked by Vince's clearly ungrateful demeanor.
"Well, Vince, before your performances start next week, we have to whip up some new outfits for you," Mr. Gregg answered.
"I brought a bunch of clothes with me. I don't need anything from you guys," replied Vince dismissively.
"Hmm..." Mr. Gregg--and the other employees who had gathered around to meet this semi-famous addition to their team--didn't quite know how to respond to this. It now was obvious to them that bratty, juicy-assed Vince was going to be a difficult divo. "Vince....we have certain standards here at Fantasy Point and we want to make sure that quality is consistent all throughout the park, from the people selling ice cream all the way up to our top performers.....like you're going to be."
Vince suddenly noticed that Carlo's eyes had turned away from the boss and were gazing longingly at something across the workspace. At the opposite corner of the room was a super-gorgeous young blond guy, decked out in a head-to-toe glistening white spandex superhero outfit, getting his arms measured by a duo of female costumers.
"Max is that young gentleman right over there," pointed Mr. Gregg, redirecting everyone's attention, "and he's getting another costume made for the hero character he plays in the park. We employee top-notch seamstresses and designers to make our visions come to life. Hey, Max! Stay where you are but say hello to Vince. He's going to be doing stage shows out in the park pretty soon."
"Hey! Nice to meet you," yelled Max from across the room as the costumers ran a measuring tape across his chisled chest. Max was blown away by the beauty of this new, chestnut-haired co-worker. This Vince dude seemed vaguely familiar..... Max wondered if Vince was some kind of actor or model that he had seen before somewhere. Someone like that but he wasn't quite sure.
The seamstresses turned Max in profile to the others so that they could measure his waist. Vince couldn't help but notice (especially due to that lycra outfit) how Max had an incredibly full, bodacious bubble ass......
It was an ass that you hardly ever see. An A++++ perfectly-round male mega-booty of the kind that launch a million jack-off fantasies. Not only was it a rare bottom, it was ultra-rare. Rare and unnervingly similar to Vince's own astronomically globular derriere.....
"What do they do?," Vince whispered to Evan, "They only hire guys with bubble butts like mine? This place is so gay....."
"No, that's not necessarily true," answered Evan, taken aback. "I'm sure that they only hire very talented people much like yourself." A little bead of sweat was dripping down Evan's forehead. It would take him a while to get used to the humid, sticky weather over here in North Carolina.
"Vince, we're going to need for you to strip down so that we can take your measurements," ordered Carlo, matter-of-factly.
"What?! Right now? Here!?" Vince was clearly pissed at being given this direction in front of a bunch of strangers.
"Yes, of course! Don't be shy; it's just part of being a performer here at Fantasy Point. No big deal...." Carlo moved forward and began unbuttoning Vince's shirt while a separate duo of female costumers unbuttoned and unzipped Vince's pants.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me....." growled Vince as Carlo removed Vince's shirt, hanging it carefully on a nearby rack. Carlo was delighted over Vince's naturally ripped, bare torso. The ladies pulled down Vince's pants, revealing his fantastically deluxxxe, smooth, creamy-white, super-sized thunder buns framed by a sexy, red jockstrap that lovingly cradled his goodies to perfection.
The room went completely silent except the sound of one of the seamstresses literally dropping a pin in wonderment over Vince's perfect jock body, jockstrap, and out-of-this-world butt melons as he stepped out of his pants.
"Huh.....," Carlo said, drooling. "....maybe it is a big deal.....a very, very big, big deal....." He was utterly hypnotized by Vince's massive booty.
"I want to stick my finger in it," very-quietly mumbled one of the costumers to another. "Will you give me $100 bucks if I do?"
"Yes!" giggled the other girl. "I mean No! I would but I don't have $100 bucks to give you right now! You're such a sick-o! hahaha!"
The costumers got to work, snapping into professionalism, quietly spreading the measuring tape across Vince's naked, hairless, galactically-thick ass cakes.
"Not only are we going to be making you some customized clothes for you to sing and perform in, we just came up with an interesting idea last night if you'd be willing to have us run it by you and your manager....," said Carlo, smirking. "Actually, it's something that I thought about doing a few months ago because I think that it could be an interesting addition to our brand at Fantasy Point."
That sounded like more money to Evan and Vince.
"Oh.....um....what's the idea?" inquired Evan, his interest piqued since it wasn't as though managing Vince, on its own, was making him rich since it very much wasn't. Evan never talked about how in debt he was after buying a new house in Los Angeles that he realized he couldn't really afford.
"Yeah, what's your idea?" Vinced chimed in, always greedy no matter the circumstances.
"Mr. Greg and I have noticed that many of the people who come to Fantasy Point wear athletic gear like t-shirts, shorts, shoes, you know," answered Carlo.
"Well, that's not surprising since it's so fucking hot here," said Vince rudely.
"So we were thinking about launching our own Fantasy Point athletic wear line.....and we were wondering if you'd be interested in being our spokesmodel for our menswear since you already have an audience and people recognize you from your music career and whatnot."
Vince thought about it for a split second. His answer very much pleased Carlo.
"Cool, as long as the money is good."
"Yes!" said Evan, relieved at the idea of increased pay. Maybe managing Vince actually would pay off, he figured. "We'll be happy to negotiate with you, Mr. Gregg."
"Wonderful," said the CEO. "We can discuss it tomorrow at lunch."
"As long as the stuff looks good on me, it sounds like a decent side-gig," said Vince, already sounding bored.
"I'm sure you'll look great," said Mr. Gregg and Carlo at the same time in unison as they oogled Vince putting his clothes back on. The seamstresses had finished documenting Vince's measurements. Mr. Gregg and Carlo glanced at each other and chuckled.
Evan walked a little bit closer to Carlo and whispered in his ear: "Just make sure to use a stretchy fabric on the pants since Vince has a smaller waist but he's got those full buns, okay?"
"We know," Carlo answered quietly. "A lot of the pieces are spandex so we've got that figured out."
"Okay, good," said Evan, relieved.
"I'm sure that'll make you happy, Evan, since all you do is look at my ass," said Vince nonchalantly. "I can hear you by the way."
And, with that, the day's meeting was over. Everyone shook hands and headed towards the doors. Carlo, a bit embarassed, slid over to Vince.
"Hey, man, I didn't mean to objectify you like that, I don't want you to think that that's the only reason that we're hiring you," the designer said.
"Don't worry about it. I'm used to it. Good to meet you, Carlo," said Vince, fist bumping him. Vince figured that he could respect Carlo. At least the guy was honest.
.........
Back at the hotel, Vince and Evan brought up their luggage and got settled into their suite. It was nice and clean but nothing extravagant.
"This place isn't anything great," said Vince to Evan as he began opening up one of his suitcases.
"Well, at least we have jobs here! We should be grateful!" snapped neurotic Evan.
"Oh get over yourself, dork," said Vince.
"And what was with that comment about me staring at your ass all the time?! Those people are going to think that I'm some kind of pervert!" Evan was getting red in the face.
"Don't have a heart attack, homo. Look, I know that you're always staring at my ass. I'm not dumb and I don't blame you. I have one of the best asses in the world and you can't even admit it. Maybe one day you'll come out of the closet and cope."
That hit a raw never with his manager. Evan had grown up in a religious household and even though he realized, at his age, that he was attracted to men, he never talked about it or lived the lifestyle. Evan was very repressed and having to manage and be around an extremely sexy young man like Vince all the time felt like torture.
"That's it! Lie down on the bed! On your stomach!," hissed Evan, taking off his belt. "You're going to learn to respect me."
"What are you going to do, whip my butt?"
"You bet I am! Since you think that I'm obsessed with that bubble ass of yours, I may as well prove you right. Let's have the punishment fit the crime. C'mon! Down on the bed."
Vince, layed down, face-first on the hotel bedspread. His perfect, globe-like ass cheeks were practically bursting out of his fitted designer pants as the middle seam crept up between those fantastically round buns. He jutted his huge rear up towards the ceiling in order to mock his manager.
"Is that a big enough target for you, Evan?" teased Vince.
What followed was one of the most fraught, ridiclous ass-whippings in the history of America.
whisk! whisk! whisk! whisk!
Evan, a few whacks in, realized that he was wearing a cheap, thin belt--an imitation leather--that barely made any impact across Vince's overly-voluptuous rear. The sound made a weak sort of whizzing noise right before each landing on Vince's bottom. Vince could barely even feel the lashes, no matter how hard Evan tried. He could barely feel anything aside from what felt like almost like a ribbon hitting his incredible derriere.
Vince began to laugh, his face pressed down on the blanket. "You suck at this," he chuckled. "Give it a rest. Today isn't your day, man."
Evan, face redder than ever, stopped with the lashings and just stood there, dumbfounded. "I'm a failure at everything." His anger spell was broken and now he was feeling regret. "Vince.....I'm sorry I snapped at you. It was unprofessional of me."
Vince got up off of the bed, pulled down his pants, revealing his bare ass, beautifully enframed by that red hot jockstrap. He turned his beyond-perfect, pale, round cheeks towards his manager. "Any pink stripes?"
"No. None," answered the manager honestly, wishing he could dive his face in the young man's luscious, deep crack. Vince's bare ass was better than Evan could have ever imagined, surpassing his fantasies of which he had many.
"Didn't think so. That's what happens when you buy cheap shit. Better luck next time, loser. Have a good night." Vince pulled up his pants, snapped the button, and zipped the front zipper. He took his luggage, went over to his enjoining bedroom within the suite, and shut the door, leaving Evan dumbfounded.
"I'll.....I'll try to do better next time," Evan muttered to himself. This was the first time, after managing Vince for months, that he had had the audacity to enforce some old-fashioned punishment on his bratty pop star but he had a feeling that he would be figuring out opportunities for repeat, improved performances. Evan would make sure of it.
