Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Ever been to a yoga class and been completely pwned?  Yep, that was me—typical guy grunting and flailing all over the place as he tries to stand on one foot with hands all twisted up over his head or whatnot.  But as the months passed I worked on my harmonious tree or whatever it’s called, and can now maintain my balance.  At first the yoga moms laughed at me (and may I take this moment to thank the Powers That Be for inventing yoga pants; those things are the greatest thing since Batman’s utility belt!), but then, as I worked my stands and raises and breathing, I found myself able to hold poses for as just as long as the rest of the class.  Right now I’m on one bent leg, arms behind my back and extended over my bowed head, in perfectly calm repose.  I turn, look out of the corner of my eye, and smirk at Yoga Mom Prime, who is three practitioners down to my left.  She narrows her eyes and mouths to me that I should perform an act that’s not only anatomically impossible, but also incredibly obscene.  Suddenly her eyes widen; she stumbles on to her side and I can’t help but bray laughter.  She jumps up and screams in inarticulate rage.  The rest of the yoga moms, longtime friends and allies of Yoga Mom Prime, immediately start punching and kicking me.  One of them races to her purse and begins throwing dildos toward my yoga mom assaulters.  They flick their wrists, and their space-age pleasure tools (you seen these things?  Macgyver could take out entire cities with ’em!) telescope outward into dildo-swords.  For the next few seconds, I look like Christian Bale in that Batman Begins scene where he’s standing on those stumps and getting whacked by pole-wielding ninjas, only it’s three-foot long dildos that are thudding painfully against my torso and legs.  Yoga Mom Prime procures the latest and greatest Glock (where the HELL did she store that???) and she must have been watching John Wick or playing Splinter Cell, because she raises her weapon into the ever-fashionable and controversial Center Axis Relock position, arms bent in, gun by her head, ensuring that any disarm attempt will result in a huge blast of lead all over my face neck and chest.  “DOWN!” she screams.  “ON YOUR KNEES!”  Jig is up.  I sink to my knees, and before she can tell me to interlace my fingers behind my head, I dart my hand down to my pocket, withdraw my eReader, and open it to Echo.  Magic flash.  B’KOOM!  The yoga studio’s mirrors blow inward, and my childhood crush Jessica Rabbit busts through them, her knees tucked into her chest and both hands crossed in front of her like Wonder Woman.  She’s holding two dildo-swords like the moms, but as soon as she lands, she starts swinging them out and wonder upon wonders, I realize they’re not dildo SWORDS—they’re dildo WHIPS!  Rubberized frenulums and networks of veins expand and stretch as the dildo-whips whirl about in glorious, light-imbued arcs.  Yoga moms scream and fall as they’re blattered across their faces by prehensile plasto-cocks.  Yoga Mom Prime manages to unload half a mag in Center Axis Relock, missing because it’s really only meant for seated shooting or nightclub-close shite like John Wick was doing, and before she can punch her arms out into a better stance, Ms. Rabbit uses her dildo-whips to land a dizzying array of slaps and cracks onto my assailant.  She finishes by entangling Yoga Mom Prime’s legs with her right whip, then yanks hard, sending the woman whirling into three consecutive somersaults before landing on her head and going unconscious.  Still on my knees, I ask, “Do you…USE those things?”  I raise an eyebrow and nod at the whips.  She flips her hair back, gives my crotch a pointed stare, and wipes drool off her lips with the back of her hand.  “Not when I’ve got the best piece of sausage available this side of the galaxy.  Get dressed, whore; we’re going on a date!”  I prance to the dressing room, a big goofy grin writ large on my face.  I am all too happy to be relegated to an objectified slab of man-meat!

Don’t let yourself be the victim of yoga bullies; use Echo to call forth righteous vengeance in the form of an unattainable childhood crush….with dildo-whips.  Right now I’m in the middle of reworking Echo 1, trying to get all my noob mistakes out.  If you refrain from buying it due to my amateurish writing style, a product of my first ventures into fiction, then I totally understand, and I’ll announce when I re-upload an updated version.  If you buy it anyways, then many thanks!  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

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