Some guys will go all the way to get to the top. In some cultures it's still seen as 'unmanly' to take a cock up your ass, although it's hard to associate the image of someone supposedly 'less than a man' with some of the muscle studs who grunt like a pig to get dicked. Let's face it, oft times it's the bottom who's the power behind the fuck, using his sphincter in such a way that a whole universe of pleasure resides in one tight black hole. In these eleven stories you'll meet power bottoms from Victorian England and the Renaissance, vampires, marines, men at the top of the world, an elf who discovers humans make the best tops, a group who take out their frustration on a mate's boyfriend's ass, a straight boy who'll do anything to get ahead, a net date who's horny for Satan's dick, and a student aching for hard Arab cock. The Boy Is A Bottom includes, Marine Biology, Marine Animals, Attack of the Ass Bandits, The Arab Downstairs, The Extraordinary Victorian Clockwork Derriere, Creaming the Party Dip, Top of the World, Route 666: Signal Driver, The Butler Did Him, Fifty Shades of Fey, and Spinning the Bottom, all previously published as individual eBooks by loveyoudivine Alterotica. Excerpt from Marine Biology: The sight that greeted me as I opened my bedroom door was the hairy butt crack and dangling scrotum of my beefy big bro, Karl. There wasn't time for it to register as erotic as I watched him slide the entire length of his substantial cock into his girlfriend du jour before he screamed, "Get the fuck outa here " That he'd glanced over his shoulder to see who the intruder was meant that he didn't mind sharing. Just not with his kid pro bro. If I hadn't forgotten my key, of course, none of it would have happened. But I was in such a hurry to surprise my parents for their thirtieth wedding anniversary, I pretty well floored the Toyota Camry for two hundred miles from my uni campus in the capitol to Redneck Central, as I not-so-fondly called my home town. It didn't feel much like a home town any longer. I was particularly out of favor with the populace, as I'd become an outspoken opponent of the country's military policy. Perhaps not a good idea in a town that supplied a rather large contingent to the Marine Corps. They were heroes. I was a traitor. They'd seen action in a war zone. I'd been on the receiving end of a police baton charge at an anti-war demo. I had a cabinet full of swimming medals. Karl had a chestful of bravery awards. It was a no brainer. My brother and his marine buddies are all big gorillas of men. Karl is 6'4" of almost solid muscle and, I'm pleased to say, an increasing amount of fat, and weighs in at 240lbs. Cropped dark hair and an attitude so belligerent that it would feed the messianic zealotry of any medium level dictator. Naturally, he attracts chicks like horse manure attracts flies. Me, I take after mom. She's petite, dwarfed by my dad, with blonde hair and the friendliest disposition you'd ever care to meet. I take after her-except for the disposition. Like my brother, I get that from my dad. And, of course, like my dad, I have a dick. Besides that, I have blond hair, a slim pro swimmer's body that weighs in at 120lbs, and a face that's much too pretty for its own good. Got me beat up a few times. And it's a constant source of friction between me and my bro and his buddies who call me 'Pretty Boy' to my face, as well as behind my back. It's not meant as a compliment. Our parents discourage mutual homecomings, and we're both happy to oblige. This, however, was one occasion where there was a scheduling error. Now the 'wrong' son was crashing the party. I could have turned around and driven away to a hotel or back to the college, but I was simply too stinking tired. And too stinking poor. I banged loudly on the door and there was a whoop from inside. "The chicks are here at last " The door was yanked open. The smile of expectation became a snarl of reco