Otis clapped his hands again, drawing everyone's attention back to him as he stood tall in the center of the gym, his light brown hair slightly tousled from the earlier jump rope session. The seniors shifted on their mats, still buzzing from the whispers and stolen glances. He smiled that warm, maternal smile, his high-pitched voice rolling out with that comforting Midwest drawl. "Alright, y'all, let's get into it. Just follow what I do. We'll start with a simple one to ease you in, nothing too fancy."
He lowered himself gracefully onto his mat, folding his legs and leaning forward. But instead of something basic like a child's pose or a forward fold, Otis transitioned smoothly into the One-Legged King Pigeon Pose II. He extended one leg straight back behind him, arching his back deeply as he reached overhead with both arms, grabbing his back foot with his hands. His torso lifted high, chest opening wide, and his head tilted back slightly. The pose looked elegant, almost regal, but it was anything but simple for a group of beginners who had mostly done push-ups and laps under the old coach.
The class went silent, stunned into stillness. Half the shock came from the difficulty alone. This was no beginner move. It required insane flexibility in the hips, thighs, and back, the kind of bend that most of these guys, with their exaggerated post-Vanishing bodies, could barely dream of. Their massive asses and flared hips made deep stretches like this a nightmare, limiting range and causing imbalances. A few seniors tried to mimic him right away, grunting as they twisted awkwardly, legs shaking and backs protesting. One guy toppled sideways almost immediately, landing with a thud on his mat, cursing under his breath. Another managed a half-hearted version but winced, his thick thighs trembling from the strain.
The other half of the stun, though, had nothing to do with the challenge. It was all about how the pose accentuated Otis's gigantic ass. In this position, with one leg extended and the other bent forward, his cheeks thrust upward and outward, projecting like twin monuments sculpted for maximum display. The leggings clung desperately to the curves, the fabric pulling taut over the heart-shaped globes, each one easily dwarfing a basketball in size and softness. The deep cleft between them deepened even more, creating a hypnotic trench that seemed to invite stares. As Otis held the pose, breathing steadily, his ass quivered subtly with each inhale and exhale, the jiggle starting small but rippling outward in waves that made the cheeks clap softly against each other. It was amazing, obscene in its perfection, the kind of view that turned a yoga class into something far more primal.
Kota sat criss-cross on his mat, eyes wide as he tried to process it. He had seen plenty of exaggerated bodies since the Vanishing, but Otis took it to another level. The pose framed that ass like artwork, the projection creating a shelf so pronounced you could balance a water bottle on it without spilling. The seniors around him muttered low, their attempts at the pose forgotten as they gawked. One guy near the front adjusted his shorts discreetly, his face flushed. Another whispered to his buddy, "How is that even real? It's like it's got its own gravity."
Kota felt his own body react, his cock stirring again in his gym shorts, the soreness from last night fading under the rush of heat. He shifted, trying to focus on his breathing, but his gaze kept drifting back to those wobbling globes.
Otis held the pose for a full three minutes, his voice calm and encouraging as he counted down softly.
"Breathe deep, y'all. Feel the stretch opening you up. Two minutes left... nice and steady."
The class struggled through it, some giving up halfway, others holding modified versions that looked nothing like his. But no one complained, not with that view commanding the room. The gym echoed with the occasional grunt or heavy breath, but underneath it all was the subtle, rhythmic jiggle from Otis's movements, a constant distraction that made time stretch endlessly.
Finally, Otis released the pose with a satisfied sigh, unfolding his limbs and standing up fluidly. He brushed his hands together, that maternal smile returning as he looked over the group. "Great job, everyone. That one's a bit advanced, but y'all hung in there. Now, let's check forms. I'll come around and give some pointers to help you get deeper."
He started at the front, moving from mat to mat with light steps, his own ass still swaying gently as he walked. The seniors perked up as he approached, some straightening their postures, others flexing subtly. Otis knelt beside the first guy, a broad-shouldered senior who had barely managed the pose.
"Okay, darlin', let's see. You need to open your hips more, really spread 'em wide to let everything sink in deeper. Feel that stretch pulling you apart nice and slow."
The words hung in the air, unintentionally sexual in their delivery. The senior blinked, face turning red as he nodded, but Otis just smiled innocently, adjusting the guy's leg with gentle hands. A few mats away, snickers rippled through the group.
Otis moved to the next student, a lanky kid whose back had arched too shallowly. "Good effort, but push your chest forward more, thrust it out like you're offering everything up. Let it all hang loose and open, really expose that front side."
Again, the phrasing landed with a double edge, sounding far dirtier than Otis probably meant.
The class stifled laughs, one guy covering his mouth as Otis patted the student's shoulder encouragingly. The teacher seemed oblivious, his voice soothing and maternal as always.
He continued to the third mat, where a shorter senior had collapsed halfway through. "Aw, honey, don't force it. Just ease into it, slide your leg back further and let your body yield. Once you're in, it'll feel so good, all that tension releasing in waves."
The unintentional innuendo hit like a punchline, the words dripping with accidental heat. The seniors exchanged glances, biting back grins, the gym filling with muffled chuckles. Otis straightened up, clueless, and kept moving down the line.
Fuck that was hot, Kota thought, his mind reeling as he watched Otis work the room. The pointers were innocent enough on the surface, all standard yoga talk about opening and releasing, but in this context, with that body and that voice, they twisted into something electric. Kota's cock throbbed harder in his shorts, the fabric tenting slightly as he sat there. He tried to play it cool, focusing on his mat, but the heat in his cheeks gave him away. The way Otis moved, bending down to adjust forms, his ass jutting out each time, only amplified the effect. It was like the teacher was designed to tease without trying, every word and gesture fueling the fire.
Soon it was Kota's turn. Otis approached with that same warm smile, kneeling close enough that Kota could smell the faint scent of sweat and something earthy, like fresh-cut grass. He looked over Kota's attempt at the pose, which was decent thanks to his athletic build and lack of exaggerated curves. "Well now, look at you. That's some fine flexibility you've got there. Nice range of motion, real smooth."
Kota nodded, trying to keep his eyes on Otis's face. "Thanks."
Otis tilted his head, appraising him further. "It's because you don't have a big ass like the rest of us. Makes your mobility better, gives you more range to work with. No extra weight holding you back, just clean lines and easy bends. Wish I could move like that sometimes."
The praise landed warmly, stroking Kota's ego in a way that felt both validating and oddly intimate. He murmured a quick "yeah," but inside, the words stirred something deeper. In a world where big asses were the norm, being flat and flexible set him apart, made him the outlier who could actually nail these poses without straining.
Otis stood up then, positioning himself right in front of Kota's mat. "Here, let me show you again how to tweak it for even better form. Watch close now." He dropped back into the One-Legged King Pigeon Pose II, facing Kota this time, his gigantic ass thrusting upward mere feet away. The cheeks ballooned out, jiggling as he settled in, the leggings pulling tight over the curves. The cleft deepened, the globes rippling with the adjustment, clapping softly once more.
Kota tried not to stare at the ass. He really did. His eyes flicked to Otis's arched back, his extended leg, the way his arms reached overhead. But the view was impossible to ignore, that monumental backside dominating his field of vision, wobbling enticingly with every breath. The urge from earlier surged back, hotter now, his cock straining against his shorts as he fought to focus on the instructions. Otis's voice floated over, explaining the finer points, but Kota barely heard it, his mind locked on the hypnotic display in front of him.