I’ve always wanted to incarnate as a Gray Alien traveler.  Buh-BAMSKIES—my dream came true!

I’ve shed most of my past-life human persona (Kent Wayne) so I can wander the cosmos as a psionics-based lifeform, known to my peers as Zorbot Five.  After I completed my rookie probation, the bigwigs made me an ambassador to Earth.  Don’t remember much about my human existence (you can’t reincarnate knowing too much, or you’ll ruin the experience you’re trying to have), but I remember a bit.  Specifically, the fact that I was a prolific Man Whore and multi-genre author. 

I downshift my craft into a Florida swamp.  (Not my first choice, but I go where the Elders tell me.)  Finally!  Disclosure begins, praise Ayzeda and The Crimson Enduvian!

As I stroll down the ramp, I’m greeted by gun-toting, militia-style larpers.  Every firearm has multiple scopes, some of em even have bayonet-chainsaws.  Their vests are festooned with tactical flags, interspersed with a shit-ton of unnecessary skull-patches.  (I’m not surprised—there’s sane people in this part of the country, but Florida Man is meme-worthy for a well-established reason). 

The leader screams, “Keep both hands up, or we’ll have nonconsensual relations with yer face and yer butt!”

“Little aggro, don’t you think?”  I raise a hairless eyebrow.  “You guys seem like fans of the military.  Any of you serve?”

All but two guiltily look away.  One of the exceptions stares at the ground and whispers, “I’m so lonely,” while the other, their leader, sneers, “Nah, cuz I would have knocked out my drill instructor!  I took the high road:  went to a three day sheepdog man camp, where they told me I was the equivalent of a recon sniper alpha commando!  So you better show some goddamn RESPECT!  I’m a patriot among patriots—bald eagles cum to me, bitch!”

I clear my throat.  “Sexual activities with avian fauna?  Isn’t that illegal?”

“No, that’s not what I—”  He sputters and fumes, then shouts, “Enough of yer elitist bullshit intellectual!  Bend over, spread yer holes, and get ready fer some daggum freedom-blessed sperm!”

Shit.  This is NOT how I wanted to kick off nonhuman disclosure. 

There’s way too many for my psionic martial arts.  So I reach in my psyche and open my aetheric eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers.  Magic flash. 

Interdimensional portals open across the swamp, dumping legions of Sasquatches into the militia larpers’ ranks.  The Squatches get busy with their quill-coated penises, bludgeoning my would-be attackers with an impressive array of three-foot womb-hammers.  The larpers break out in panic-driven screams, firing off bursts and shouting unoriginal phrases like, “Game over, man—GAME OVER!”  And:  “Dear God in heaven, they’re in the motherfucking WALLS!” despite the fact there isn’t a building in sight. 

In a matter of seconds, they all turn and flee, with the notable exception of their sheepdog-man-camp-alpha-trained leader.  He’s on his knees, hands clutched together in teary appeal—please bro PLEASE, please don’t kill me with your giant spikey boners! 

A Squatch knocks him out with a hip-swinging mushroom stamp.  The larper falls on his side, eyes rolled back, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. 

My savior stares at him for a long moment, then turns and gives me a weighted look.  “Maybe hold off on disclosure for a couple more years.  At least until they stop trying to death-fuck your holes.”

I hiss through my teeth and rub the back of my neck.  “Yeah…point taken.  Not a fan of getting death-fucked by inbreds.”

Whew!  That was a close one!  Kent Wayne (whoops, I mean Zorbot Five) wins again!

😀

Are you an amicable Gray Alien ambassador?  Have you come in peace, only to be accosted by militia-larper hooligans?  Never fear! Buy my books, summon quill-penised Squatches, and defend your holes with pungent-wienered beatings!

Get A Door into Evermoor here: A Door into Evermoor.  Get Weapons of Old here: Weapons of Old Get Kor’Thank here:  Kor’Thank:  Barbarian Valley Girl.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle  Vol. 3 on Kindle here:  Vol. 3 on Kindle  Vol.4 on Kindle here:  Vol. 4 on Kindle  Echo Omnibus here:  Echo Omnibus  Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here:  Combined Edition  Musings, Volume 1 is available here:  Musings, Volume 1  Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human:  Optimization!    

Hold on!  I just got approved to be an Amazon affiliate!  If you’re going to buy ANY product from Amazon, and you’d like to support my efforts for absolutely free, then simply click on one of the Echo links I’ve provided—they’ll send you to Echo’s Amazon page—and THEN buy whatever product you wish.  Amazon gives me a small referral fee each time this happens!  In this manner you can support my books, musings, zany ads, or my adventures along the noble path known as The Way of The Man Child WITHOUT spending any more money than you were already going to!  Should you do this, I vow to send you a silent blessing, causing your genitals to adopt the optimum size, shape, smell, and death-ray attachment of choice that paralyzes your enemies with fear and envy!  Entire worlds will bow before your nether parts!     #Kindle #KindleUnlimited #writingcommunity #writer #booktok #writerscommunity #writing

We’re naked and kneeling, hands cuffed behind our backs, lined up for Martha Stewart’s sadistic viewing pleasure.  With each step, her scrotum-shriveling armor clanks and pulses—it’s a blend of Sauron-edged layers and modular quantum tech.

“You call yourselves Man Whores?” she sneers.  “Pathetic.  Look at this.”  She stops at Gosling and gives him a contemptuous once-over.  “Thing’s soft as fuck—you can bend it at the root and suck it from the back.  Who wants to fuck a goddamn sponge?”  She punts him in the groin with her booted foot.  To his credit, Ryan doesn’t budge.  The only sign of pain is a single tear that leaks from his eye as Martha moves on to Timothy Chalamet. 

“Check it out.”  She scoffs and looks around at her rifle-toting guards, all of whom are clad in Mandalorian-style helmets.  “His sack could double as a flattened-out turkey wattle.  If you’re hitting it doggy, how are you gonna slap the clit with your balls?” 

Timothy drops his gaze and quietly weeps. 

“You.”  She stops in front of Bradley Cooper.  “You’re packing a curve, but it droops instead of rises.  Tell me—why would I fuck GONZO’S FREAKY-ASS NOSE???”  She gets right in his face and his lips start quivering.  A second later, he cracks and sobs.

Skarsgard is next.  “Jesus Christ.”  She flings a hand at his piece.  “Looks like a goddamn mutant baby mole rat.  Ever heard of tanning, you albino-penised fuck?”  He tries to speak, but she hits him with a slap.  For good measure, she follow up with a forehand/backhand, eliciting bitchmade shrieks from the Hollywood thespian.

“Kent fucking Wayne.”  She stares right in my eyes.  “Now THIS is what I’m talking about.  Girth, upcurve, the perfect amount of melanin…”  A trickle of drool slips out from her mouth.  She wipes it away, pulls a giant summer sausage sheathed on her hip, and starts poking my face with its smelly tip.  As I squint and turn in an effort to avoid the meat, she whispers, “Yes…yes…it’s perfect.”

Fuck this.  I REALLY don’t wanna know what she’ll do with that fuckwurst.  So with a massive burst of effort, I flex my arms and snap the cuffs—HRRRNNNGHH!—then grab her eReader out from her purse.  I ninja-roll sideways and open it to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers.  Magic flash. 

My wiener unravels from my thigh—fwip-fwip-FWIP—growing to gargantuan, city-killer proportions.  It rears back and howls into the full-moon sky, blurring the air and rattling our skulls.  It begins to slam up and down, cracking pavement and ravaging the earth, laying absolute waste to Martha’s supervillain-worthy compound.  Guards scream and wail as they’re smashed beneath glans or thrown dozens of feet in random directions.  After several minutes of Death Penis chaos, I pole-vault away on my enormous hog, bounding across the terrain like the Incredible Hulk.

Kent Wayne escapes again! 

😀

Has Martha Stewart imprisoned you in her compound, then subjected you to unreasonably harsh genital judgment?  Never fear!  Buy my books, endow your nether bits with unmatchable strength, and lay waste to her estate before escaping her clutches!

Get A Door into Evermoor here: A Door into Evermoor.  Get Weapons of Old here: Weapons of Old Get Kor’Thank here:  Kor’Thank:  Barbarian Valley Girl.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle  Vol. 3 on Kindle here:  Vol. 3 on Kindle  Vol.4 on Kindle here:  Vol. 4 on Kindle  Echo Omnibus here:  Echo Omnibus  Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here:  Combined Edition  Musings, Volume 1 is available here:  Musings, Volume 1  Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human:  Optimization!    

Hold on!  I just got approved to be an Amazon affiliate!  If you’re going to buy ANY product from Amazon, and you’d like to support my efforts for absolutely free, then simply click on one of the Echo links I’ve provided—they’ll send you to Echo’s Amazon page—and THEN buy whatever product you wish.  Amazon gives me a small referral fee each time this happens!  In this manner you can support my books, musings, zany ads, or my adventures along the noble path known as The Way of The Man Child WITHOUT spending any more money than you were already going to!  Should you do this, I vow to send you a silent blessing, causing your genitals to adopt the optimum size, shape, smell, and death-ray attachment of choice that paralyzes your enemies with fear and envy!  Entire worlds will bow before your nether parts!     #Kindle #KindleUnlimited #writingcommunity #writer #booktok #writerscommunity #writing