Pushing Naughty Buttons (Alien Monster Erotica) by Zoey Hayes
Authors: Zoey Hayes
Tags: Gay, Horror, Sci-Fi, Alien, Erotic, Apocalyptic, transformation, oral sex, invasion, masturbation, eggs, runner, shower, Personal Trainer, Gym, locker room, ovulation, repopulation
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PUSHING NAUGHTY
BUTTONS
By Zoey Hayes
Copyright 2014 Zoey Hayes
Smashwords Edition
(O)
If you’re under 18, you really shouldn’t be
reading this book. Seriously. This book contains lots of adult
stuff that isn’t appropriate for younger readers. I wrote this
story and I alone have the copyright. It is licensed for your
personal use only. Please don’t re-sell it to someone else or post
it anywhere else. Thank you for checking out my work and enjoy the
ride!
(O)
Mercifully, 18-year-old Rod Young’s first
year of college had ended, bringing to a close a season on the
cross-country team that had fallen well short of expectations. He’d
been fast in high school, but his new teammates were relentless,
and his training turned into a fight for survival. His best time of
the year was just barely faster than that of the quickest member of
the female team, and a pulled groin in the regional championships
nearly ended his season altogether.
Going home for the summer had done much to
lift Rod’s spirits, especially sleeping in his own bed and eating
properly-cooked food. But what he enjoyed most were his ten-mile
runs down the back roads from his home to the Pleasant View
Gym.
The gym was the most popular spot in town. On
the ground floor, men in sweaty black sleeveless shirts and baggy
shorts ruled the weight room like restless animals in a zoo. Their
groans and grunts filled the sweat-heavy air, spotters urging their
beastly shapes through rep after rep. The sound would build to a
clamor until, at last, the steel bars crashed down onto metal
supports, freeing calloused hands for high-fives.
Upstairs, women ruled the row of whirring
treadmills, breasts of all sizes fighting to bounce free of
constrictive sports bras, buttocks cinched down beneath tight
spandex shorts. Driven by the beat of the music pumping through
their tiny white earbuds, their strong legs thrust them forward on
their grueling run to nowhere. None of them made eye contact with
each other, all of them focused on an indeterminate spot on the
wall in front of them.
All the gym’s members were restless spirits,
all of them preparing for something, but few certain of their
purpose. All of them, that is, except Rod.
On an early Tuesday morning in mid-June, Rod
sprinted the final half-mile to the gym’s main entrance. He felt
like he was falling apart. The pain in his groin returned, and each
deep breath burned the inside of his painfully-dry throat. He’d run
out of water three miles back, and already his tongue was so sticky
that it kept trying to glue itself to the roof of his mouth. But a
glance at the stopwatch hung around his neck told him he couldn’t
give up now.
At last, the sidewalk turned into a driveway,
and at the entrance, he tapped the watch’s button with his thumb.
Staggering along the front of the building, Rod smiled as he
coughed, then pulled the wet sweatband from his forehead. He’d
beaten his personal best by thirty-three seconds. At last, he was
getting faster.
It was quiet outside the gym - much more than
usual. So quiet that he couldn’t hear the din of traffic on the
distant freeway. It then occurred to Rod that he actually hadn’t
seen a car on the road since he’d left. He didn’t mind this at
first, but then wondered if breezing through stoplights was the
only reason his time had improved.
Rod shook his head and walked into the
building. Inside, there was more stillness. The lights were on and,
mercifully, so was the air conditioning. But no one was at the
front counter. No clattering of weights in the gym, nor any
whirring of treadmills from above. Only a strange smell. A smell
that grew stronger with every step. It was a bitter, pungent scent,
as if the gym had fallen behind on their laundry. Still, music
continued to play over the loudspeakers.
Wake me up before you go-go—
“Hello?” called Rod. There was no answer but
the rest of the
BUTTONS
By Zoey Hayes
Copyright 2014 Zoey Hayes
Smashwords Edition
(O)
If you’re under 18, you really shouldn’t be
reading this book. Seriously. This book contains lots of adult
stuff that isn’t appropriate for younger readers. I wrote this
story and I alone have the copyright. It is licensed for your
personal use only. Please don’t re-sell it to someone else or post
it anywhere else. Thank you for checking out my work and enjoy the
ride!
(O)
Mercifully, 18-year-old Rod Young’s first
year of college had ended, bringing to a close a season on the
cross-country team that had fallen well short of expectations. He’d
been fast in high school, but his new teammates were relentless,
and his training turned into a fight for survival. His best time of
the year was just barely faster than that of the quickest member of
the female team, and a pulled groin in the regional championships
nearly ended his season altogether.
Going home for the summer had done much to
lift Rod’s spirits, especially sleeping in his own bed and eating
properly-cooked food. But what he enjoyed most were his ten-mile
runs down the back roads from his home to the Pleasant View
Gym.
The gym was the most popular spot in town. On
the ground floor, men in sweaty black sleeveless shirts and baggy
shorts ruled the weight room like restless animals in a zoo. Their
groans and grunts filled the sweat-heavy air, spotters urging their
beastly shapes through rep after rep. The sound would build to a
clamor until, at last, the steel bars crashed down onto metal
supports, freeing calloused hands for high-fives.
Upstairs, women ruled the row of whirring
treadmills, breasts of all sizes fighting to bounce free of
constrictive sports bras, buttocks cinched down beneath tight
spandex shorts. Driven by the beat of the music pumping through
their tiny white earbuds, their strong legs thrust them forward on
their grueling run to nowhere. None of them made eye contact with
each other, all of them focused on an indeterminate spot on the
wall in front of them.
All the gym’s members were restless spirits,
all of them preparing for something, but few certain of their
purpose. All of them, that is, except Rod.
On an early Tuesday morning in mid-June, Rod
sprinted the final half-mile to the gym’s main entrance. He felt
like he was falling apart. The pain in his groin returned, and each
deep breath burned the inside of his painfully-dry throat. He’d run
out of water three miles back, and already his tongue was so sticky
that it kept trying to glue itself to the roof of his mouth. But a
glance at the stopwatch hung around his neck told him he couldn’t
give up now.
At last, the sidewalk turned into a driveway,
and at the entrance, he tapped the watch’s button with his thumb.
Staggering along the front of the building, Rod smiled as he
coughed, then pulled the wet sweatband from his forehead. He’d
beaten his personal best by thirty-three seconds. At last, he was
getting faster.
It was quiet outside the gym - much more than
usual. So quiet that he couldn’t hear the din of traffic on the
distant freeway. It then occurred to Rod that he actually hadn’t
seen a car on the road since he’d left. He didn’t mind this at
first, but then wondered if breezing through stoplights was the
only reason his time had improved.
Rod shook his head and walked into the
building. Inside, there was more stillness. The lights were on and,
mercifully, so was the air conditioning. But no one was at the
front counter. No clattering of weights in the gym, nor any
whirring of treadmills from above. Only a strange smell. A smell
that grew stronger with every step. It was a bitter, pungent scent,
as if the gym had fallen behind on their laundry. Still, music
continued to play over the loudspeakers.
Wake me up before you go-go—
“Hello?” called Rod. There was no answer but
the rest of the
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