Pushing Naughty Buttons (Alien Monster Erotica)

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 chorus. He thought about leaving, but then scoffed
at the thought.
After all
, he thought to himself,
I’m
only here to use the shower.
He put his membership card back in
his pocket, then took a drink from the water fountain. Somehow, it
tasted better than usual.

There were towels, still fresh and folded on
the counter, so Rod grabbed one. When he did, something squished
beneath his right sneaker. He looked down and saw he was in the
middle of a large dark stain on the carpet.

“Dammit,” he muttered to himself. With the
smell as strong as it was, he didn’t care to look at the bottom of
his shoe. He just hopped off it, then shuffled the dampness off his
sneakers on the way to the men’s locker room, toward the sound of
water spraying from the showers inside.

Once Rod crossed the threshold, his shoes
began to stick to the tile floor. The sound echoed through still
another empty room. Here, at least, the smell was more familiar.
Nothing could overwhelm the musk of his fellow members.

When he finally reached Locker #946, Rod
began to undress. He pulled his baggy white shirt over the top of
his head, feeling its sweat-filled fabric suck off his skin before
it splattered onto the floor. His sticky shoes and soaked socks
came next. His shorts and underwear came off last, and the air
rising from the pile tickled his freshly-shaved balls.

Rod remembered how shy he was in high school,
how he didn’t like to get naked in front of other guys. He got over
it quickly when they found out how big his cock was compared to
theirs. Even with no one else there, the thrill was the same. He
couldn’t help but pose for a moment, chest out with hands on his
hips, his seven inches on full display.

Rod stooped down to pick up his clothes, then
turned his musky, hairless body toward the locker. He pulled open
the combination lock and pushed aside the fresh clothes he’d left
there the previous day. Behind them were a pair of plastic bags,
and into one went his soaked clothes. The other contained a bottle
of body wash. He carried the towel in one hand, the wash in the
other, and walked proudly toward the sound of running water.

When Rod recognized the profile of the naked
man showering in the fourth of the eight open stalls, he shrank
behind a partition and peeked around the edge.

It was Tim.

Tim was a new personal trainer at the gym and
an amateur bodybuilder. He was about a head taller than Rod, ten
years older, and much more handsome. But Tim was shy, which was
surprising given his work. He always seemed distracted by
something, just as he looked now as he stared into his showerhead
as if counting the nozzles.

Until now, Rod had never seen him in the
shower, never once seen his naked body. But he’d thought about it
plenty. In stolen moments by the gym’s juice bar, Rod always sat
facing the squat bar, watching Tim from behind as he spotted one of
his many students. On every downward motion, Tim’s skin-tight
spandex shorts pulled tighter still as his massive buttocks parted,
then flexed together on the way back up, sweat oozing down the
backs of his amazing calves.

After a few reps, Rod would excuse himself to
the bathroom for a wank, two fingers shoved inside his ass,
imagining Tim’s ass flexing that same way as he entered him. Rod
always left the door to his stall unlocked when he did this, hoping
against hope that Tim would catch him in the act and take him as
his own.

That was the only way Rod dared express his
true self, his actual motivation for going to the gym. He couldn’t
bring himself to tell his parents, much less Tim. But Tim was the
only man Rod felt he could trust with his body, his secret. Tim’s
mystery had that much power over him. And now, here he was, here
they were, alone and naked - together. And Tim was even more
beautiful than he’d imagined.

His skin un-obscured by lather, Tim’s light
brown muscles glistened in the light shimmering off the surrounding
white tiles. His shoulder-length black hair glued itself to the
back of his neck, revealing his stern face littered with black
stubble. He was a hairy man, but not too much so. As Tim’s hands
slid up and down his sides, Rod caught a glimpse of a small patch
of black chest hair between his vein-riddled pecs, one that tapered
into a narrow line of hair that stopped above his navel and pointed
at his crotch. And when Rod’s eyes moved down to that point, he
gasped as Tim’s cock began to grow.

Tim was about the same length he was, a
grow-er, not a show-er. But when his dark shaft stirred itself
awake from its bed of flattened black pubes, he revealed himself to
be much bigger around. His cock just grew fat on his blood, filling
out the deliberate curve that now bucked from his loins. The base
of his dark purple tip flared out as it was hoisted upward, the
point of his wedge seemingly sharpened by the pressure rising from
beneath.

By the time Tim reached down to caress its
tender underside with his big fingers, Rod felt his own grip
tighten around his throbbing seven inches. The student gripped the
partition with his free hand, then began to rub himself.

Despite their shared stimulation, Rod still
felt distant from the experience. The longer Tim ignored him, the
more Rod felt like he was in a control room witnessing it on camera
- or worse, dreaming - not standing there firsthand. He suddenly
felt more daring, emboldened as if he were invisible. Before he
knew it, he was standing in full view, masturbating in front of a
man with whom he’d shared just five words in thirteen months.

Rod knew he had to say something. This chance
would never come again. He wanted him to see him cum.

“Oh, Tim—” Rod moaned.

Tim looked at him. Rod felt his loins
tighten, then a tug on his balls. But nothing came out.

Instead, every orgasmic pulse brought a stab
of pain.

“AUGH!” Rod cried, grabbing at the wall to
his right. “AH-AAAAH!”

Reluctantly, Rod looked down between his
legs. Staring through the tears as the orgasm finally subsided, it
looked like his cock was changing.

The head of his cock was growing wider,
stretching out four inches in diameter. His hard shaft remained
unchanged, making his genitals look like a large toadstool. The
larger his tip grew, the darker its color became, shifting from
pink into bright red. Terrified, Rod reached out at the shape, but
his hands jumped back when he discovered how much more sensitive it
was. He reached for it again, but missed the mark. His shaft was
beginning to retreat into his body, lowering the large head down to
skin level.

He watched dumbfounded as a shiny steel ring
rose around the base of his cock, one that matched perfectly the
diameter of the red dome his cock had become. When the base of his
tip met the metal, it rattled and tingled, and the tip of his cock
turned inward into a gentle concave curve. The tug on his cock
stopped, and the compressed had that remained felt hollow and
hard.

Then something oozed out of his crotch and
into the shape. It felt like he was urinating, but still, nothing
came out of him. Instead, the red shape turned translucent,
revealing a swirling liquid inside. When the sensation stopped, he
ran his fingers across the indented curve. The sensitivity was
gone. The hole was no longer there. Hard plastic was all he felt.
At last, Rod figured it out.

Somehow, his genitals had been replaced by a
large red button. But why?

Rod was frightened, but at the same time,
intrigued. He heard Tim walking toward him, wanted to look into his
eyes once more, but he couldn’t stop examining it. The light of the
shower room illuminated the translucent plastic, and inside he
could see the fluid inside roll and boil, dark trails illuminating
each undulation. His hands slid down to the spot, but he stopped
for a second.

If this is a button
, he thought to
himself,
what the hell does it do?

The fear returned, but an equal amount of
curiosity kept it at bay. He reached a compromise. He would touch
the button, but stop short of pushing it. Maybe once he did that,
he could figure out a way to get his cock back.

His right hand took the lead, offering its
middle three fingers to the task. As the fingertips lowered down to
the button, Rod braced himself for another shock of pain. But when
he touched it, he only felt plastic. Warm plastic. The liquid
beneath the shell tingled against his fingertips, and when he
lifted them, the sensation took a few seconds to subside. Curious,
he rubbed his finger over the button, then turned the button
clockwise in its cradle. The tingling returned, and this time
simmered through his loins, moving lower until the tiny hairs on
his buttocks twitched.