The Man Meat Virus (Complete Series): A Gay Science Fiction Erotica

By Alex Hardin

As a small gay man with a healthy infatuation with much larger, burlier men, it comes as no surprise that I’m not often in a position of sexual encounters... until today. After confronting the new landlord for parking in my scooter, I’m taken to his apartment and made to worship his stomach before blowing my load on him... the same day, my sexy Japanese American teddy bear of a boss has me join him in his office where he plunges a remote control vibrator in my ass as he toys with me and we rub swords to completion... to my surprise when I run into him later, he acts as though he has forgotten the entire thing, and my initial worries that these two events are a coincidence brings me to attempt some research on these two men, but I come up with very little until a strange tentacle monster appears and explains everything to me, both with words and actions... it appears I have a computer virus that leads to these racy encounters... if I am infected, I don’t mind being man meat!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlie Bent
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311362650

Book preview

The Man Meat Virus (Complete Series): A Gay Paranormal Erotica

By Alex Hardin

Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18 or older.

Contents

#1: Humiliated and Dominated by the Redneck Landlord (Gay Erotica)

#2: Anal Play with my Japanese American Boss (Gay Interracial Erotica)

#3: Ravaged by the Stud of a Tentacle Monster (Gay Paranormal Erotica)

#4: Taking on Two Gay Wrestlers (Gay Paranormal Erotica)

#5: Anal Play for the Alien (Gay Science Fiction Erotica)

#1: Humiliated and Dominated by the Redneck Landlord (Gay Erotica)

Every day! I threw my hands in the air as I walked towards the offending truck.

I’m a motorcyclist. I like little scooters, specifically. They are sized just right for a smaller guy like me, and there’s some part of me that kinda likes being the odd one out when I hit the road.

Pretty much ever since I moved into these apartments I’ve parked my best motorized friend to the side of the sidewalk because A) it seemed like a really rude thing for me to take up an entire parking spot and B) there was no designated parking for bikes. No one seemed to mind for the year or so I’ve lived here, until very recently when I found a note from our landlord saying I had to put it in a parking space due to ‘complaints.’

While I was not unaware that someone had moved into the unit a couple of doors down from me recently (an event eerily coincidental with the time of the complaint), I didn’t want to be confrontational. I decided to take the path of least resistance and started parking in a normal parking spot, putting my bike in horizontally towards the back so that other cars could share the space if needed. If whoever was doing this wanted to be a dick, fine, I’ll let him. I don’t need to get in a war over this.

The past few days, including today, I've noticed a truck parking in that space with me. It’s always the same truck; a barely held together rusty relic of redneck scrap. And every single time, the stupid thing is parked so intentionally close that it’s actually touching my bike, just barely against it. I’ve checked each time and there’s no damage. It’s not being hit on accident by some careless brute. It’s never been knocked over. Whoever’s doing this is sandwiching the motorcycle between the truck and the concrete parking block as carefully and precisely as they can just to irritate me. In its own assholeish way, it’s masterful. I might laugh if it wasn’t happening to me.

Between the timing of the complaint, the new neighbor, and the bully truck, a clear picture is being painted for me. Someone is clearly trying to get under my skin, for whatever reason. Today, I had decided do something about it.

I wrote a note to this individual requesting that they park a little more courteously in relation to my bike. It’s a pain to get it out without damaging your truck. I hope reading that will inspire at least a little understanding. Let’s share this space peacefully. Smiley face. Signature.

The plan was simple: look around, make sure no one is there, clip the note under his windshield, leave.

I chose the early morning because I’m awake and, well, just in case something happens, it’s the daytime. I realize I ran the risk of actually encountering the individual, but as long as I can make it clear I just want to be at peace, there was no harm in it.

So, there I was. The parking lot was mostly deserted, especially the truck that was my destination. I peered around cautiously, casually walked up to it, and lifted the windshield wiper.

Snap, the folded paper is underneath. Done. I turn around to go back-

You got something to say to me, Little Buddy?

He was so. Fucking. Big. When a man stands in front of you and you only come up to the bottom-center of his chest, it’s a little intimidating, no matter how small you are. (I am.) His huge round belly was only barely covered by a red athletic shirt. His girth betrayed the mounds of rippling muscles he would call arms, a hint that this thickness he carried was intentionally sculpted. Piercing eyes pinned at me from underneath a camo baseball cap, framed by a wavy blonde beard.

It is here that I gulped. Under different circumstances, I might have focused a lot more on how totally into him I was. Actually, that’s a lie. That is exactly the first thing I focused on as I scanned the giant up and down. He settled an elbow against his truck.