Zombie Boyz

Board up the windows, push an old dresser against the door and load your shotgun. A zombie apocalypse is about to hit Wilde City, and if you want the best survival tips, six of Wilde City’s boys are here to help.

You’ll never want to exercise again as Eric Arvin and TJ Klune turn a gym full of hunks into a smorgasbord of terror in GHOUL’S GYM.

Gather your friends and fight for the man you love, as Ethan Stone and Daniel A Kaine turn Vegas into a zombie nightmare in SURVIVING SIN CITY.

And bring a date to dinner to celebrate Grumpy Grampy’s 90th birthday and introduce your family to your new zombie boyfriend in Geoffrey Knight and Ethan Day’s GUESS WHO’S COMING AT DINNER.

You’ll scream with terror and howl with laughter as Wilde City’s boys bring you our first undead anthology ZOMBIE BOYZ.

Release date: 17 July 2013
ISBN: 978-1-925031-24-9
Category: Gay Mainstream
Sub-Genre: Anthology, Comedy, Contemporary, Erotic,Romantic, Series, Short Story/Novella, Thriller/Horror, Zombies
Number of words: 93,000 words
Formats available: e-book and print
Heat level: 4 Flames out of 5

5 Stars – This is the first anthology I’ve ever read (and I’ve read quite a few) where each story was an easy 5 stars for me.

On Top Down Under Book Reviews

Beefcake Bob’s Burgers

“Is that what I think it is?” Grammy Gabby shrieked, her eyes bulging so big that her gigantic, tinted 70s-style specs slipped an inch down the bridge of her nose.

And all my studly zombie boyfriend Zane could do was grin that big, stupid, handsome, kinda-undead smile of his while he pawed and tugged at the raging tentpole erection in his ripped jeans and announced to the whole table in that animalistic tone of his, “Me haaaaaawny.”

My mother dropped her fork. Clang!

My father started choking on his beans. “Blarrrk!”

My sister, Sister Mary Abigail, crossed herself several times and started talking in tongues. “Muhl-sun-lun-acka-clacka-yada-zirka-blirka!”

Grumpy Grampy cupped his hand around his ear to hear better and shouted, “What that little sonna-bitch just say?”

My drunken Aunt Tilly just chuckled calmly with a “he-he-he” and said, “He’s a real tiger, ain’t he!”

Zane took it upon himself to confirm Tilly’s suspicions by growling at me as if he were an actual tiger before announcing loudly again, “Me horny, Chand-lerrrr!”

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. This story doesn’t start with me wanting to curl up and die of embarrassment at my grandfather’s ninetieth birthday dinner party. It began the day a boy named Zane Addison seemingly took notice of me the first time. Before the zombie apocalypse and all the hoo-ha that followed. He was human back then, and I was in love.

I still am, actually. Even more so than before.

Some things even a heinous, zombie-making-virus plague can’t change.

Love is love, you know?

Of course, coming out to my family at my grandfather’s birthday dinner with the shocking news that I was in love with a zombie…well…that was practically an apocalypse unto itself. You’d think it was the End of the World, Part Two…or hell…maybe it was actually like Three or Four at this point?

Who the hell can keep track these days?

But I digress into my own mini-existential crisis.

So yeah, this night was not going so well, and Grumpy Grampy’s ninetieth was sure to go down in history as the night Chandler Cox died from embarrassment—

—or saw the first glimmer of hope for humanity’s survival.

But perhaps I should start at the beginning.

I’m Chandler, nineteen years old and should be living in a college dorm at Harvard. But instead, I still live at home or did up until a few days ago. Why? Because like most other people on the planet, any plans I had for the future totally imploded after the Pandemic Transviral Apocalypse of 2013, which was swiftly shortened to PTA for tweeting purposes.

Trust me when I tell you, the parents and teachers were no longer using it anymore. My engineering dreams had vanished faster than a pallet of flatscreens from a looted local electronics store.

So cliché, right?

The world as we know it is under siege but hey, don’t screw with our God-given right to life, liberty and our ability to access streaming content…bitches.

Along with the end of the global economy, public safety, and any chance of ever having a room to myself again – life as I’d once known it had evaporated before my very eyes.

I’d sat through all the motivational speeches about how we’re all still human—at least some of us still were—and all the BS about how we can like, totally adapt and stuff…but holy hell, as selfish as it may sound, a teenage boy has needs, damn it!

While it’s true that those needs don’t technically suck up that much time, considering your typical nineteen-year-old guy can rub one out in a matter of mere minutes, the fact is I now sleep on the floor of my own bedroom while Grumpy Grampy snores his way through the night in my bed, dribbling on my once stain-free pillow. Let’s just say that even though he can barely hear, his wheezing is a total mood killer.

He’s so noisy!

Even Grammy Gabby refuses to sleep in the same room with him, preferring the tiny-ass cupboard under the stairs over sharing space with the cranky old coot. Not that she’s a whole lot better with her constant complaining about her aches and pains. We put up with it because I guess we’d rather have them with us than out on the streets, all infected and begging for brains and shit.

Most days, anyway.

But this is what people had to do post-PTA. They started mending relationships, putting aside petty squabbles, and living in larger groups, because everybody knows that the family who hoards and boards together remains uninfected by the undead together.

To say that the PTA came out of nowhere is an understatement. Apart from Charlie Sheen, everyone else was leading a fairly normal life up until that point in modern history. I was starting my senior year in high school.

I hung out with my best friend, Dong.

I went to the movies.

I even worked my shitty part-time job, trying to save up enough money for my first year in college.

And I suffered the sling and arrows from assholes who hated my guts simply because I was gay.

Eighteen months earlier…

Pulling at the itchy gold and brown polyester Beefcake Bob’s uniform, I pressed the intercom button with my free hand and spoke into the microphone.

“Would you like fries with that?” I asked.

“Are they free if I let you choke on my ten inch cock, Cox?” Laughter echoed through the speaker as the muscle car full of jocks tire-squealed its way around to the drive-thru service window. I rolled my eyes as I slid open the glass window, but I fully admit I couldn’t completely look away as Brett ‘Bruiser’ Hayes rubbed at his crotch. “You probably like to swallow, huh Jack-hole?”

No comment.

“So that’s a no to the fries, then?” I asked with a deadpan expression.

Let’s press pause on this charming walk down memory lane for a second.

Being toe-tally honest, I think we all recognize the sexual tension at play here, am I right? Fucking meat-headed, teen age cock-jocks are the worst. I mean, really, get over yourselves already.

The DL is soooo nineteen nineties.

Call me crazy if you will, but that cheeseball machismo lingo Brett was forever spouting off at me sounded like total gay porn plagiarization.

Not that I’m a porn ho or anything, and my apologies to O. Henry and my English teacher for the bastardization, but the guy totally screamed Gift of the Tragi—closet queen to me.

This twisted little scenario was the sort of thing that happened on a regular basis, working the nightshift at the drive-thru of Beefcake Bob’s. However, that particular night was different. For one, it was the first night that I really ever spoke to Zane, the high school quarterback I had watched out of the corner of my eye between classes and had breathlessly fantasized about while alone—night after blissfully hot masturbating night—over the past three years. You know, back in the good old days before Grampy moved into my room.

The second reason that night was memorable was because it had all begun that night. Yep, just my luck to have officially fallen heels over head in love the very same night that a zombie apocalypse kicked off.

Totally f’in rude, right?

That’s the way the universe likes to fuck with poor tortured me, but I’m used to it now, I guess.

But for posterity’s sake or whatever, I should get back to the point, back to the night I fell in love. Back to the drive-thru.

Eighteen months earlier…again…

“So whaddaya say, Cox?” Bruiser asked. “You wanna suck each of us off, you little jizz monkey?”

Brett was the captain of the football team, as well as a grade-A asshole.

From where I stood in my little booth, I could see Bruiser’s bestie, Mike ‘Mad Dog’ Morgan, laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath.

Clearly this meathead never tired of hearing the same lame-ass jokes.

I rolled my eyes, already feeling the boredom of defeat and humiliation setting in, which is when I glanced toward the backseat and saw him—Zane ‘No Stupid Nickname’ Addison. The junk inside my Jockeys totally twitched, and my heart went all aflutter; moreso when I saw he wasn’t laughing like the other two in the car.

Nor did he look particularly impressed with Bruiser. In fact….

“Why don’t you leave the guy alone?” Zane said from the backseat. “Let him do his job.”

“I’ll let him do a blowjob!” Bruiser kept on laughing. “Ain’t that want you want, Cox? You wanna suck my dick?”

“Not particularly,” I said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure your mom’s a great person and all, but why would I wanna suck on what she had for breakfast?”

I was trying to act all cool and snarky in front of Zane, but all I managed to do was incur the wrath of the biggest asshole in town. Bruiser’s stupid grin instantly morphed into a twisted barbwire snarl, and his face went beet-red.

Without warning, he pushed the car door open so hard that it slammed into the life-sized plastic statue of Beefcake Bob, knocking the caricature flat on its back.

“You little faggot, I’m gonna fuck you up.”

Holy roid-rage, Batman!

I gasped as poor Beefcake Bob buzzed and zapped outside the drive-thru window, flickering for a moment before his light blew completely out.

I realized too late that my mouth had just issued a check it could, in no way, cash. Not even the cooler, hipper version of me that existed in a much happier alternate universe, where I was the most popular kid attending Shawnee Mills High, could’ve survived Brett the Bruiser wrapping his meaty paws around my scrawny neck.

But before I could slide the service window shut, Zane kicked open his door, launched himself from the backseat and seized Bruiser mere moments before the stupid thug could grab me.

“Let it go!” Zane ordered sternly in Bruiser’s ear, his teeth clenched.

For a second, I thought I was going to faint, unsure whether it was the sudden jolt of fear or a lack of blood flowing to my brain, given that most of it had just rushed to my cock due to Zane’s mega-sexy bout of heroics.

Bruiser let out a growl that kinda slurred into a furied, “One of these days, Cox.”

I watched, near drunkenly, as Zane forced Brett back into the driver’s seat—an added bonus for me, considering Zane’s biceps flexed and rippled impressively in the process. After slamming Bruiser’s door shut, Zane turned back to me while retrieving his wallet from his back pocket.

“Sorry about that, Chandler. Let me just pay for the burgers, and we’ll get the hell outta your hair.”

He tried handing me some cash, but I shoved their bag full of Beefcake Bob’s Burgers into his big, muscly arms, all the while staring at him mildly dumbfounded.

“On the house.”

Zane grinned sheepishly, which made him appear even sexier. I mean, I don’t have a photo or anything, but you can totally take my word for it.

“Can’t believe you know my name,” I said—more like breathed it—the expression on my face no doubt stunned and stupid in that Looney Tunes, hit-with-a-mallet kinda way.

Zane laughed, visibly curious as he tossed the bag of food through the driver side window onto Brett’s lap. “You look shocked by that fact.”

“I just…. I wasn’t….” I shook my head attempting to rid myself of any last remaining pretense that I might manage coming off cool or collected. “Of course you know my name. We’ve been in the same class since….”

“2009,” Zane said, shoving the bills back into his wallet. “When I first moved to town with my folks. You were the hall monitor back then. Everyone knows the hall monitor.”

“Yeah, everyone knows the hall monitor,” I agreed. And everyone gives the hall monitor a good punch on the arm when they pass by for being such a nerd.

Except Zane.

He never once punched me.

Suddenly the blare of a horn combined with the buzzer from the drive-thru menu made me jump. Zane, of course, barely flinched.

“Come on, Zane, you fuckin’ faggot-lover.” Bruiser barked. “Get back in the car, and let’s get the hell outta here. We got a party to go to!”

The man of my dreams winked at me then and said, “Gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“That’d be great,” I said, way too shocked and quiet as I watched him climb into the back of Bruiser’s car.

I pressed the intercom button so it would finally stop bleeping at me as Bruiser’s car jolted forward with a screech of tires, then harshly braked before backing up to the window, almost running into the next car in the queue.

Bruiser leaned out the driver’s window shouting, “Hey, loser. You can keep these.”

With astounding accuracy, he hurled two slices of warm pickle, each smacking me in the face, splattering bits of ketchup and mustard all over me. I stood there completely stunned for several moments as Bruiser and Mad Dog Mike cackled while their muscle car peeled off into the night.

The pickles slowly slid down my chin and cheeks as a BMW, filled with skanks I may or may not have recognized from school, pulled up to the window.

They all started laughing at me as well.

“Does anybody actually work in this dump?” asked the pretty blonde driver, sounding exceedingly put out.

“What are we even doing here, Wendy?” one girl whined. “This place is like a fatty’s paradise.”

“We can’t drink on an empty, Val, unless you wanna skank out like you did last weekend, Gang-bang-Becky.”

The Val chick slumped back into the seat with a scowl as the second pickle slid off my chin and landed on the dirty tiled floor with a plop.

“Welcome to Beefcake Bob’s Burgers,” I muttered in a flat, well-practiced tone of humiliation. “May I take your order?”

5 Stars from Reviews by Jessewave
“Zombie Boyz has a little something for any type of reader. From the silly to the sublime, the action adventure to the horror, this anthology offers up three deliciously different tales that will have you howling with laughter and wiping away tears of sadness. I thoroughly enjoyed this collection!”
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5 Stars from Madison Parker at Madison Reviews
“a biting thriller that will tear your heart out and slay you with laughter”
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5 Stars from Cindi at On Top Down Under Book Reviews
“This is the first anthology I’ve ever read (and I’ve read quite a few) where each story was an easy 5 stars for me.”
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5 Stars from World of Diversity Fiction Reviews
“It truly is a great anthology—the first time I was unable to choose which of the three stories I love the most.”
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5 Stars from World of Diversity Fiction Reviews
“It was a hilarious read. Love can conquer everything and this story just proved it.”
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4.5 Stars from Jay at Joyfully Jay Reviews
“a really great collection – the whole thing was fabulous and the stories work together really well.”
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Reviews by Amos Lassen
“What makes this collection unique is that the gore is mixed with humor and sex and intrigue are there as well. I know that it is rare to enjoy an entire anthology but I did just that.”
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4 Stars from 3 Chicks After Dark Reviews
“It was just a fun, fun book to read. Read this story for a good laugh and to be entertained.
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