“WAKE UP SPERM! WAKE THE HELL UP! KENT WAYNE IS READY TO DEPLOY YOUR SORRY ASSES STRAIGHT INTO THE HONEY-HOLE!” Sergeant Kent495 focuses his lifer stare right at me. “THAT MEANS YOU KENT683!”
Ugh. What time is it? I crawl out of my rack and rub my nucleus. Another glorious day in Kent Wayne’s balls. Sperm are divided into different branches of service; I’m a member of the Spermatozoic Marine Corps.
Sergeant Kent495 is in rare form today; he’s a lifer, and doesn’t really care whether we die on a pair of boobs, in a mouth, or actually get to impregnate an egg. I’m not that gung-ho—I’d be perfectly happy living out the rest of my life in Kent Wayne’s sack.
“THE BOYS IN SPECIAL OPS GOT COCKY; THEY THINK JUST COS THEY’RE GOOD AT CARRYING AN EXTRA LOAD OF DNA AND BECAUSE THEY GET TO GROW OUT BEARDS THAT THEY CAN IGNORE THE BASICS! NOT SO, GENTS—NOT FUCKING SO! AS YOU ALL KNOW, OUR HOST IS DOING A STINT AS A PORN STAR! YESTERDAY, THOSE ROIDED-OUT ASSHOLES VOLUNTEERED TO GET SHOT AT SOME GIRL’S STOMACH—THOUGHT THEY COULD TREK ACROSS A WASTELAND OF SKIN AND CREATE THE NEXT KENT FUCKING WAYNE! WELL GUESS WHAT!”
I stifle a yawn. Could this guy get anymore dramatic?
“THEY’RE ALL FUCKIN’ DEAD! BILLIONS OF THOSE IDIOTS PERISHED IN A LINT-LINED NAVEL COS THEY WERE TOO COCKY TO DIAL DOWN THEIR INNER COWBOY! NOW THOSE BITCHES ARE GUN-SHY! AND THAT MEANS WE’RE UP! ON YOUR FEET MARINES!”
Fuck. I grumble as I start checking myself over. Make sure my acrosome is on tight, my axial filament is loose and mobile, mitochondria is good to go…
Sergeant Kent495 manically swims between rows of Marines and starts gear-checking them. What a douche. He comes up to me, gives me a long, insane stare, and says, “I know you’re squared away, Kent683. Don’t need to gear-check your motivated ass, do I?”
I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I reply, “No sergeant.”
He swims off, continuing to yell and scream. Fuck. There are some Marines that can do anything and some that can’t do anything but be a Marine. Sergeant Kent495 fits firmly in the latter category.
This is probably gonna end up like most of our call-ups—boring as hell and nothing but a dry run in the end. Accordingly, I stuff an eReader into my tactical mitochondria rig. At least I can keep myself entertained while we’re sitting around for hours doing jack shit.
After chow we all swim down to the base of the urethra and form up, ready to shoot into some strange woman’s nethers. Most of the other Marines are like me. They’ve eaten mountains of crap—to the point that nothing fails to impress them short of a sperm pulling off some straight-up Chuck Norris shit like deploying into some woman’s gingivitis-filled mouth, fighting off billions of probiotics in her stomach, burrowing through an impregnable layer of intestinal lining, and THEN making it to the egg.
Hours pass, and we hear our host talking to the porn director, sussing out what needs to be done in the next scene. Wait—could it be? Could we ACTUALLY get to deploy today?
Red lights begins flashing, blinking in time with a grating alarm—REEE. REEE. REEE. A monotone female voice announces, “Cavernosal arteries are dilating. Erectile tissues engaged.”
Holy shit! This is it! We finally get to deploy!
Sergeant Kent495 begins walking up and down our ranks, a murderous gleam in his crazy-ass lifer eyes. “THIS IS IT MARINES—THIS IS WHY WE GET PAID! REMEMBER—ONCE WE’RE IN THERE, IT’S GONNA BE A FREE-FOR-ALL SO HOLD NOTHING BACK! WE’RE SPERMATOZOIC MARINES! WE ENTER AS SPERM, AND EXIT AS 30 POUND NEWBORNS! THEY INVENT EXPERIMENTAL SURGERIES TO REPAIR THE DAMAGE WE INFLICT ON NETHERPARTS!” He turns his face up to the heavens and screams, “THANK YOU FOR BLESSING ME ON THIS DAY, HEAVENLY FATHER! THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME INTO A FLAGELLA-POWERED KILLING MACHINE!”
Suddenly, a rank smell floods the urethra. Every Marine recoils in horror.
“Wait, that doesn’t smell like—”
“Is this a regular scene or are we—”
“I’m not gonna die in some fetid—”
Sergeant Kent495 starts freaking out, screaming, “CALM DOWN! YOU DO WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TOLD! YOU ARE SPERMATOZOIC MAR—”
Then we hear the host utter a single word that makes us all erupt in panic:
“Anal.”
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” I begin swimming furiously upstream as a wash of fluid begins jetting billions of my fellow Marines toward the light (or should I say the stank-ass dark). It’s no use; thousands of horrified sperm wash past me, shooting into a rank hole of bacteria-laden death. I’m right about to exit Kent Wayne’s body when I remember that I’m packing my eReader. One last chance…
I open it to Echo. Magic flash.
Suddenly I’m teleported deep into Kent Wayne’s mate, and I see it before me: a shining egg replete with corona radiata wisping from its edges. Everything goes slo-mo and I hear a choir of heavenly voices singing in perfect harmony. I swim up to the ovum with a giant smile on my face.
I’m the only sperm in sight, and the egg warmly accepts me when I press against its crust. My smiles grows wider as my DNA unwinds and combines with that of the egg. What bliss!
Nine months later, I have morphed into a hulking, 50 lb. newborn with an IQ of 384, a ten-pack with shredded obliques, and the ability to deadlift 12x bodyweight with no prior training. As I grow older, I shepherd humanity through intergalactic colonization, a war with the robots, a war with the Reptoids, and oversee the construction of a real-life Voltron.
Who says that we’re meant to die as insignificant specks of dust in an uncaring universe? 😉
I know it’s a stretch, but you too may one day be incarnated as a Spermatozoic Marine. Don’t perish in the desolate wasteland that is the bleached anus of a prolific porn star. Use the magic properties of Echo to make sure you morph into a super-intelligent, mind-bogglingly strong baby that eventually changes the course of humanity. 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 #kindle #kindleunlimited
Kent Wayne 
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