by Jim English
A raspy voice says, “Put it through.”
“What?” you ask. “Put what through?”
“Over here.” Suddenly, two long fingers reach through a hole in the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. “Put it through here.”
With a start, you realize it’s a glory hole. You’d heard of them before but had never actually seen one in real life. They’d always sounded so disgusting! So seedy! So repulsive!
But now you’re reconsidering. If you’re too shy to approach a hottie in a meat market like Glowstix, maybe glory holes are just the thing for people like you. Who knows who’s on the other side of the wall—but then again, who cares?
* * *
If you put it through, turn to this page.
If you zip up and get out of there, turn to this page.
“Come on,” you tell Jose. “Let’s just peek inside.”
He reluctantly follows you up the stairs and into the police station. It’s a small office, with three desks, a filing cabinet, and two small prison cells. The sheriff is asleep at his desk, slumped back in his chair, his mouth half open and snoring.
“Hello?” you call out. “Sheriff?”
At the sound of your voice, he immediately rises and adjusts his hat. “Take it easy, son,” he says. “Is there some kind of problem?”
“We need your help!” you exclaim. “Fire Island has been overrun by zombie drag queens!”
“What?” the sheriff ejaculates. “Have you been drinking?” You tell the sheriff everything that you’ve seen so far, but he just shakes his head in disbelief. “Toxic waste? Cher look-alikes? Honestly, boys, it sounds like you’ve been sitting in the sun too long!”
* * *
Turn to this page.
“Okay, Cosmo,” you say. “I’ll just look after myself and count on someone else to save Fire Island.”
“Now you’re making sense,” he says, and pulls open the rotting wooden door. “Good luck, sweetie.”
The tunnel slopes down sharply. It’s pitch dark, and you have to use your hands to find your way. It’s not long before you’re tangled in cobwebs, and strange furry creatures are scurrying beneath your feet. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming.
After ten minutes of walking, however, you come to a large mound of dirt—this section of the tunnel must have collapsed! Fortunately, there’s a grate in the ceiling, and you can easily climb up to the surface.
You find yourself standing in front of a small, friendly village, and there’s a sign that reads WELCOME TO CHERRY GROVE. You walk along for a few moments and then hear dance music coming from behind a hedge. Curious, you walk over to the bushes and peek through.
* * *
Turn to this page.
“It’s a tempting offer,” you tell Gabe, “but I’m convinced the island is in danger and we need to escape immediately. You should come with us.”
Gabe shakes his head. “They scheduled me to work tonight,” he says, “so I’m gonna have to take my chances. But maybe we can rendezvous later in the summer.” He writes his phone number on a cocktail napkin and slips it into your front pocket—then lets his hand linger there for a moment. “You call me when you’re back in Manhattan.”
He gives you a quick kiss goodbye and—although it kills you to do it—you grab Jose and walk out of the bar. “Come on,” you tell him. “We’ve got to find Cosmo.”
* * *
Turn to this page.
You’ve made some pretty foolish decisions so far, but this is definitely one of the worst! Haven’t you read all those brochures about safe sex and venereal disease? Haven’t you seen those after-school specials about young boys abducted by strange, hairy men with raspy voices? Do you really want to trust your manhood in the hands—or mouth—of someone you’ve never even met?
My editor says this book is all about fulfilling fantasies. He says you should be able to do whatever you want. But take it from me, the writer—this sounds like a bad idea.
Jerk off if you have to—but do it quickly, and then get the hell out of there! You’ve got an island to escape from, remember?
* * *
If you put it through the glory hole anyway, turn to this page.
If you get the hell out of there, turn to this page.
“I’d love to see the rooftop,” you tell Gabe. “Lead the way.”
Together you pass through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and climb a long staircase to the roof. At the top, Gabe opens the emergency exit and leads you outside.
Sure enough, the view of the beach is extraordinary—but you barely have a chance to admire it before Gabe starts kissing you. His hands are everywhere, reaching up your shirt and down your shorts, and you guide him to a small patch of shade where you can both lie down.
“I hope you’re not in a hurry,” Gabe whispers. “I’m not on duty until eight.”
“Sounds good to me,” you tell him. Right now, you’d like to spend the entire summer wrapped up in Gabe’s arms.
* * *
Turn to this page.
You ignore Jose’s cries and run as fast as you can—and when you reach the edge of the pier, you take a flying leap toward the ferryboat. A trained Olympic athlete could have made the jump—but you’re no Olympic athlete. You miss the boat by mere inches and land in the water with a splash.
Back on shore, Jose is crying for you to come back. “Pleeeeease!” he screams.
The passengers on the ferryboat throw you a life preserver, and you grab onto it. The boat tows you along as it sails toward safety, and eventually the passengers help you climb up to the main deck. Someone immediately hands you a dry towel and a stiff cocktail.
You glance back at Fire Island and see that Jose is still standing on the ferry dock, waving his arms. You slam your drink in one big gulp and guiltily ignore his cries for help.
* * *
Turn to this page.
As soon as you get Jake up to his third floor bedroom, you’re tearing at his clothes, and then you straddle him backwards so you can both suck each other off.
“Whoa, easy, calm down,” Jake says, but there’s no stopping you. You’ve never felt so horny in your life. Even after the zombies make their way to the third floor—and kick in the door to the bedroom—you’re still in the throes of ecstasy! You don’t even feel their nails tearing at your flesh!
THE END
As much as you’re desperate to get laid, you’re not that desperate—for all you know, the person on the other side of the wall is just a fag hag with a sore throat. It’s best to just move on.
When you head back upstairs, Jose and the blond hottie are groping inside each other’s Speedos, and it takes all of your strength to pull them apart.
“Come on,” you tell Jose. “We’ve gotta get out of here!”
“This is so typical of you,” he shrieks. “Every time I meet someone nice, you get all jealous and needy, and you have to spoil it!”
“When we get back to Chelsea, you can fuck every guy you set eyes on,” you tell him. “But right now we’re getting off this island.”
You head out the door, into the sunlight, and start running in the direction of the Fire Island Historical Wax Museum.
* * *
Turn to this page.
“Come on,” you tell Jose. “If we swim parallel to the shore, we can escape the riptide’s forces.”
It’s not easy to swim with one hundred eighty pounds of drama queen clinging to your back—but with patience and persistence, you manage to escape the riptide. The rest of the ocean is calm, and swimming back to shore is easy.
As you get close to land, however, you hear a piercing scream from the beach. The fistfight you’d witnessed earlier has erupted into a full-blown brawl! People everywhere are running and screaming. In the center of the chaos is a large metal drum that appears to have washed ashore. Stenciled on its side are the words WARNING: RADIOACTIVE WASTE.
A lifeguard races past you, shouting, “Run for your life! They’re zomb
ies!”
“Zombies?” Jose asks. “What’s going on?”
You’re not sure—but you notice five drag queens standing around the metal drum. And there’s something very, very wrong with them.
* * *
Turn to this page.
You know you have to find Cosmo. There are more and more zombies on the streets now—every time you turn the corner, another hideous tranny is shuffling in your direction. Fortunately, you’re quick enough to outrun them.
Then a sudden explosion knocks you and Jose off your feet. As you scramble backward, a horrifically ugly queen emerges from the smoke. Her neon-blue eye shadow is appalling, and her pink hair consists entirely of split ends. The very sight of her fills you with terror—and when she speaks, her deep nasal twang strikes terror in your bones.
“Well, look at the pretty little bitches!” she exclaims. “You boys aren’t going to the museum, are you?” She points one of her scabby fingers at Jose. “Answer me!”
“No, ma’am,” Jose says, panic-stricken. “We were just heading to the beach. We were going for a swim.”
“The beach is in the other direction,” she says. “I suggest you go that way!”
You’re not sure who—or what—you’re dealing with, but you recognize that leaving immediately is in your best interests. You and Jose race down the street until you find an alley to rest in.
* * *
Turn to this page.
The captain has arrived just in time. Back on shore, the zombies have turned up a supply of inflatable rafts—and now a dozen of them are paddling out in your direction! They’re insatiable!
“I’m so glad to see you,” you tell the captain.
He smiles. “Aye, the feeling is mutual. I’ve been at sea without human fellowship for the last six months!”
Up close, it’s easy to see why the captain hasn’t had human fellowship. He’s an old, old man, and his bald head is speckled with liver spots.
“There’s not much time,” you tell him. “Can you throw me a line?”
The captain reaches into a work chest for a length of rope. “I’d be happy to welcome you aboard,” he says, “but when you get on deck, I’ll expect a favor in return.” Then he flashes a leering grin that sends chills down your spine.
“What kind of favor?” you ask.
“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy,” the captain says. He slips one hand in his pants pocket, and it looks as if he’s jingling his keys. “You know what I’m talking about. Now do you want the rope or not?”
* * *
If you tell the captain to throw you the rope, turn to this page.
If you take your chances with the zombies, turn to this page.
There’s no way you’ll remember any of the directions—so you try to catch up with Jose. But by the time you make it to shore, there’s no sign of him anywhere. “Hello?” you call out. “Jose?!?”
Shouting is probably a mistake: all of your nelly-yelling has attracted the attention of dozens of zombies. They come streaming out of the dunes, blocking off the west end of the shore and slowly advancing in your direction. You can outrun one or two at a time—but not dozens!
When you look out to sea, you notice a sandbar about one hundred feet from shore. Your hunch is that zombie drag queens will refuse to swim—so maybe you should get in the water. You might be safe there until help arrives.
On the other hand, the main lifeguard station is just five hundred feet down the beach—and you can see people inside, peering out the windows. Maybe Jose is with them! At the very least, they can probably offer you a place to hide out.
* * *
If you run to the lifeguard station, turn to this page.
If you swim out to the sandbar, turn to this page.
“What the hell was that?” Jose asks.
“I have no idea,” you tell him. “But she’s obviously trying to keep us away from the museum. And if you ask me, that makes our mission more important than ever!”
“Are you kidding?” Jose exclaims. “If we come within fifty feet of that museum, I bet that hideous queen nails us. We should go to the beach as we promised.”
Without another word, Jose starts off down the street, assuming that you’ll follow along. But will you? The idea of going to the museum alone is frightening—but if Cosmo knows how to defeat the zombies, shouldn’t you try to find him?
* * *
If you try to find Cosmo and the museum, turn to this page.
If you try to find safety on the beach, turn to this page.
Time passes—you’re not sure how much—but by the time you and Gabe head downstairs, the mood of Glowstix has completely changed. The nightclub is silent, and everyone is focused on the television mounted above the bar. CNN is broadcasting a live feed from the White House Press Room, and the president is addressing the camera: “… America needs to make a decision, and that decision is clear: We can’t play games with some flaked-out guys in dresses. So we’re nuking the island. It sounds drastic, but I will not allow domestic terrorism to affect our daily lives.”
There’s a collective gasp from everyone inside Glowstix.
“My fellow Americans,” the president continues, “I don’t want you to sweat this. The fact is, Fire Island needed a good clean-up, anyway. It was getting way too gay. Our missiles should reach their target within the next three minutes.”
The bartender shuts off the television, and everyone stares at each other in shocked silence.
* * *
Turn to this page.
This is probably your only chance to get off on Fire Island, and you’re not going to pass it up. You unzip your pants and slowly guide yourself through the hole. Within moments, you’re glad that you didn’t listen to the prudish, anal-retentive author of this book, because the man on the other side of the stall is giving you the most luscious, mind-blowing head you’ve ever had in your life. It’s all you can do to keep from screaming.
Then, suddenly, the door to your stall opens. It’s the town sheriff, fresh off the day shift and ready for a drink. “Sorry ’bout that,” he mutters, and he closes the door.
Then, just as quickly, he opens it again. “Say, what’s going on in here? Stop that right now!” He draws his weapon and takes aim at you. “I’ve seen lots of twisted behavior on this island, but this is going too far. You and your stall buddy are under arrest!”
* * *
Turn to this page.
Fortunately, The Meat Rack isn’t far away—and soon you and Jose are running down a well-maintained trail toward Cherry Grove.
This area is one of the most quiet and peaceful spots on the island—but every now and then, you hear grunting and moaning from behind a clump of shrubbery. With a shock, you realize there are dozens of couples in The Meat Rack who don’t know anything about the zombie epidemic!
“Our island is under attack!” you exclaim. “We need to get to Cherry Grove immediately!” When no one answers you, you raise your voice. “Come on, people! You’ve got to get out of here!”
A string of anal beads comes flying out of the shrubbery and smacks you in the face. “You get out of here!” a voice shouts back. “I ain’t going nowhere ’til Baby tosses my salad!”
Jose leans forward, peering into the bushes to take a closer look, but you grab him by the arm.
“Screw this,” you say. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Turn to this page.
“You definitely look like you could protect me,” you tell the bodybuilder. “So I guess I’ll be pretty safe here.”
“I guarantee you’ll be safe,” the bodybuilder says. He introduces himself as Jake and hints that he’d like to get his hands on you as soon as possible. He gestures to the large mansion beside the swimming pool, pointing to one of the upstairs windows. “My bedroom’s on the third floor, and it’s got a waterbed.”
When you first started planning your trip to Fire Island, you never even dreamed about fucking anyone as ridiculously
beautiful as Jake. But fucking him on a waterbed? You feel like you’ve won the lottery.
Then again, this circuit party is full of gorgeous young bodies. If you’re going to fool around, maybe you should browse a little—and not just take the first opportunity that drops into your lap.
* * *
If you go upstairs with Jake, turn to this page.
If you want to look around some more, turn to this page.
Thanks to your role in saving Fire Island from the clutches of Champagne Toast, Lance has no trouble getting you a job at the CIA, and you’re finally able to quit the boring Manhattan desk job that was always stressing you out.
There’s never a dull moment in the CIA—one day you’re in Europe, and the next day it’s a tropical beach in South America. But you and Lance almost always work together, and you both prove that gay secret agents are just as effective as any hetero James Bond wannabes. It’s a great life!
THE END
Finally, Gabe breaks the silence by whispering in your ear. “Maybe we ought to go back up to the roof,” he says. “I mean, if we really just have three minutes left—”
