5% in: “'The CEO...isn't that Oliver Anderson? The dinosaur billionaire?' He asked, I could hear the upset tone in his voice. My father had never liked the dinosaurs ever since they began taking control of the world economy.” OK, two thoughts: 1. Oliver Anderson? I know actual humans with more dinosaur-sounding names than that. C'mon. 2. So maybe this is a cleverly-veiled critique of corporate fat cats and the corrupt banking industry??? Fingers crossed!
16% in: “A gust of cool air encompassed me as I entered the lobby which was made entirely of white marble.” Wouldn't that be slippery for those with claws as feet? Also, the security guards are raptors – makes sense.
21% in: The billionaire dinosaur wears a navy blue suit but no shoes.
32% in: “On the cover of GQ he was holding up a glass of scotch in his right claw.” No girly drinks for this alpha reptile. Bird. Whatever.
38% in: “'John. It's me Oliver. I need you to come to the roof in five. Don't bring anything with you.' He said, hanging up right after.” The plot thickens!!! Is the roof where The Gaying happens???
43% in: John gets into Oliver's private helicopter, heading to his beach house. DON'T DO IT, JOHN!!! Also, the helicopter pilot is a pterodactyl – why can't they just ride the pterodactyl???
52% in: “[H]is deep voice was turning me on so much as he leaned closer to me. I had never been with a man before, let alone a male dinosaur!” I think we all know where this is heading.
55% in: “'How about I give you a tour of the place?'...'This is stunning!' I said...'I agree' Oliver said while staring at me...My breath began to quicken as he stepped closer, pulling me towards him with his claws. He reached around me and tore off my clothing, leaving me in just my briefs.” Shit, Oliver does NOT mess around.
60% in: “I knew now why my boss had taken me to his beach house.” Always ten steps behind. That's SO John, amirite?
62% in: Wow, dinosaurs are rapey.
64% in: No. NO. NOOOOOOOOO. Seriously, there is NO WAY that would work.
68% in: EW-EW-EW-EW-EW-EW, etc.
73% in: I need a shower. On the inside.
75% in: “I knew exactly what he was doing. He had hated humans all along, humiliating and embarrassing them one by one.” Oh, John. You poor, stupid, STUPID bastard.
77% in: “I began devising a plan, though, one day I would do to Mr. Anderson what he had done to me.” Considering what you both did from 55% through 73%, I think it's probably okay to call him Oliver from now on. “I needed revenge. To Be Continued...” Yeah, I'll pass.....
80% - 95% in: According to the appendices, “Hunter Fox” has also written:
Forced Gay by Aliens
Tentacles Made Me Gay
Forced Gay by the School Mascot
Yetti Forced Me Gay
Sphinx Turned Me Gay
Turned Gay by an Orc
T-Rex Forced Me Gay
Brachiosaurus Made Me Gay
Cyclops Forced Me Gay
Gay Cyclops GangBang
Turned Gay by Dinosaurs: Three Book Collection
FINAL THOUHTS: Okay, so this...was John “forced gay” by the dinosaur? I mean, there was most definitely some dubcon and he was at least bi-curious and interspecies-curious, but does one encounter with a same-sex dinosaur “force” a guy to identify as gay from then on? Based on his oeuvre, I'm thinking that possibly the author came from a fundamentalist background causing some VERY confused feelings – and more than a little misinformation – about homosexuality.
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A Billionaire Dinosaur Forced Me Gay Kindle Edition
by
Hunter Fox
(Author)
Format: Kindle Edition
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Hunter Fox
(Author)
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LanguageEnglish
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Publication dateAugust 1, 2014
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Reading age18 years
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File size1749 KB
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Product details
- ASIN : B00MCVVH6G
- Publication date : August 1, 2014
- Language : English
- File size : 1749 KB
- Simultaneous device usage : Unlimited
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Print length : 13 pages
- Lending : Enabled
-
Best Sellers Rank:
#956,181 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #1,919 in Fantasy Erotica
- #3,262 in Science Fiction Erotica
- #3,372 in Erotic Mysteries
- Customer Reviews:
Customer reviews
3.5 out of 5 stars
3.5 out of 5
31 global ratings
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Reviewed in the United States on November 5, 2014
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603 people found this helpful
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Reviewed in the United States on December 2, 2014
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I'm collecting items throughout my life to put into a treasure chest that I will leave for my loved ones to find National Treasure style after I complete the unnecessarily prolonged and bitter process of dying within the bleach white walls of an old folks home. Upon my death bed, I will look my grandchildren directly in the eyes for the first time in years, then produce from within my hospital gown a golden key which I will have been hiding between the skin folds of my decrepit body. I will sputter out a riddle, the words mashed and mostly unintelligible as I flap my lips across my toothless gums, and afterwards I will voluntarily allow my system to shut down as I meet blessed death. With the hospice machines still shrieking out their warning of the failure of my heart, my grandchildren will hurry out from the room, no time to pay their respects to my questionable life or my still warm cadaver. After days of hard travel through the winding, narrow roads of a New England slick with winter ice, they will enter my Victorian style summer home for the first time in decades (they've not entered this damnable place since the infamous 'Christmas Incident), and they will hurry to the grand library and pull open its French doors, allowing the stale air, steeped with the smell of book dust, to come billowing out at them. As only a single bulb responds to the flicking of the light switch, my grandchildren will creep among the long shadows until they come to the thing that has always played at their imaginations like a puppet master pulling at marionette strings--- the unicorn portrait.
Slipping their fingertips beneath its rotting wooden frame, which was once painted a bright gold but has fallen victim over the centuries to countless termite mouths, they will pull the painting up and find behind it the metal door of a safe. They've known it was there; oh yes, they'd come many nights to the portrait to peek behind it and wonder what lay within the safe, always thinking I knew nothing of their nighttime excursions out of bed, though I watched their fruitless efforts with the same calculating and emotionless eyes of a doctor experimenting upon a cage of mice.
With shaking hands, they will slide the key into the keyhole, and the lock will click open, and they will pull open the door of the safe as it creaks upon its rusted hinges.
Years of curiosity, of wonder, of anger, of frustration, of hatred, of denial will come to a head as they look inside, seeking the answers to so many questions that have burned within their very souls for so long. But inside of the safe there are only papers. Papers once crisp and white, like my own body, now wrinkled and yellowed and foul smelling. Papers with fading ink... but with a message nonetheless.
My grandchildren will grasp frantically at the the papers, hearts pounding like a war drum against their rib cages as they struggle with one another to see who will be the first to read the words upon the page. Then, as they all sidle in close to one another, they will discover at last what was behind the unicorn portrait for all those years, what Grandmother hid from them, what she finally allows them to see.
A print out of "A Billionaire Dinosaur Forced Me Gay."
Slipping their fingertips beneath its rotting wooden frame, which was once painted a bright gold but has fallen victim over the centuries to countless termite mouths, they will pull the painting up and find behind it the metal door of a safe. They've known it was there; oh yes, they'd come many nights to the portrait to peek behind it and wonder what lay within the safe, always thinking I knew nothing of their nighttime excursions out of bed, though I watched their fruitless efforts with the same calculating and emotionless eyes of a doctor experimenting upon a cage of mice.
With shaking hands, they will slide the key into the keyhole, and the lock will click open, and they will pull open the door of the safe as it creaks upon its rusted hinges.
Years of curiosity, of wonder, of anger, of frustration, of hatred, of denial will come to a head as they look inside, seeking the answers to so many questions that have burned within their very souls for so long. But inside of the safe there are only papers. Papers once crisp and white, like my own body, now wrinkled and yellowed and foul smelling. Papers with fading ink... but with a message nonetheless.
My grandchildren will grasp frantically at the the papers, hearts pounding like a war drum against their rib cages as they struggle with one another to see who will be the first to read the words upon the page. Then, as they all sidle in close to one another, they will discover at last what was behind the unicorn portrait for all those years, what Grandmother hid from them, what she finally allows them to see.
A print out of "A Billionaire Dinosaur Forced Me Gay."
263 people found this helpful
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Reviewed in the United States on January 3, 2020
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This novel’s simple yet powerful allegory is succinct epigram for our times. A tour de force and penetrating prognosis to the human condition.
5 people found this helpful
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Reviewed in the United States on September 29, 2015
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Exquisite trash again! Ten minutes of surreal and silly queer giggles. Not safe for work or most sane people. Read at your own risk.
11 people found this helpful
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Reviewed in the United States on May 24, 2020
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I really liked that part where the narrator goes billionaire boss as if we didn't know for the last 2 pages since it began.
Reviewed in the United States on November 5, 2014
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I strongly recommend replacing the word "his" with "his billionaire dinosaur" at every opportunity. It puts you that much more in the moment.
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Reviewed in the United States on November 19, 2015
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10/10 would dinosaur again
11 people found this helpful
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Reviewed in the United States on October 7, 2015
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this is more like a gag porn book. strange! I imagine most readers like this because of the ridiculousness of it. will make for fun conversations.
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Top reviews from other countries
Drew Rowsome
2.0 out of 5 stars
When monsters attack: the erotic novels of Hunter Fox
Reviewed in Canada on April 20, 2015Verified Purchase
For some odd reason I had expected that sex with a dinosaur would involve, if not certain death, sensory experiences, and descriptions, of a more fetishistic or unusual sort than common pornographic clichés and pedestrian plodding prose. I had also expected far fewer spelling, grammar and continuity mistakes than the ones above let alone this whopper from the free sample - I was not going to spend another three dollars - of Brachiosaurus Made Me Gay, the lead novel in Turned Gay By Dinosaurs: Three Book Collection:
It was a brisk morning, the sun still had not risen as I took a taxi to the airport for my flight to South American.
Full review at: http://drewrowsome.blogspot.ca/2015/04/when-monsters-attack-erotic-novels-of.html
It was a brisk morning, the sun still had not risen as I took a taxi to the airport for my flight to South American.
Full review at: http://drewrowsome.blogspot.ca/2015/04/when-monsters-attack-erotic-novels-of.html
Simon
1.0 out of 5 stars
Don't buy this even as a joke
Reviewed in Canada on February 24, 2017Verified Purchase
I ordered the book on november 6 and 4 months later i still didn't receive it... really disappointed
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Jerry
5.0 out of 5 stars
Best Book
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on November 29, 2019Verified Purchase
My son loved it (Douglas)
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