Most of us watch porn.
As a writer, I’m forced to delve into uncomfortable truths and dance around them with well-spun fictions. I know most of you guys are writers as well, so you know exactly what I’m talking about. No one wants to openly admit that the glut of entertainment The Masses absorb into their brain-holes has been inspired by an eclectic group of crazies that aren’t afraid to push the boundaries of life; it’s no secret that some of humanity’s best freakin’ authors haven’t been what you’d call upstanding citizens. Plenty have followed the Hunter S. Thompson mold, getting their inspiration from a variety of illegal substances. For much of his life, Stephen King was bombed out of his mind to the point where he doesn’t remember writing Cujo. The inspiration for Spice in Frank Herbert’s Dune novels was taken from magic mushrooms he grew in his back yard. And if you know how to pick apart a story, you can see deep spiritual themes in most Hollywood movies. What scenario is more likely—that the scribblers in Hollywood writers’ rooms have a daily meditation practice and spend their time contemplating spiritual texts? Or that they’re plunging into the dark butthole of existence using a breakthrough dose of psychedelics that enables them to see the dancing mycelium of acausal love that forms the very fabric of reality?
(Yes—that was a very long-winded justification of the fact that I watch porn.)
So I’m preparing to peruse xvideos.com, ready to pleasure myself with my hairy-knuckled Man Child hands. I’ll spare you the details, but basically, you gotta get the poison out, right? If you don’t, it leads to all kinds of unwanted aggro. Anyways, I’m putting in my usual tags—milfs, busty, schoolteacher, robot-apocalypse-bringer-with-boobs (forget that last one; I’m not a weirdo! Pfff!)—and bring up all the required windows, getting ready to blast some subjectively obscene configuration of light into my eye-holes so I can do the dirty and get on with my day.
For those of you who don’t know about xvideos.com, they have small-windowed links that give you a flash preview of what’s in the video. My pointer is dancing between windows, selecting any ones that catch my eye, and suddenly, it rests on the wrong fucking one:
Oh FUCK! I clutch my eyes as their ducts erupt with blood. I tumble backward in my chair, crash onto the floor, and disconnect my computer’s power cord but it’s too damn late—I’ve already glimpsed a mass of pale, bloodless bodies that make Gollum look like Channing Tatum (at the peak of his ’roid cycle) writhing and gasping like some kind of hellish kettle of suffocating fish. Screams rip from my lips as I feel organs roiling within my torso, changing position and growing legs; I suspect that the sheer horror of watching accountants boffing each other has caused them to become sentient monsters, much like the Chest Bursters from Aliens. I rip my shirt off and my suspicions are confirmed; my skin boils with a sea of tiny feet and tentacles, eagerly trying to shred apart my torso so they can emerge from my flesh and skitter down someone’s throat.
“NYAAAAAHHH!!!” I see the first tentacle poke through, streaking my belly with runnels of blood. Not much time left. I look desperately around, trying to find something—ANYTHING—that can keep me from exploding into a bloody mess.
And there it is: my eReader.
I reach over, grab it, and open it to Echo. Magic flash.
A pillar of blue light booms down through my ceiling, causing me to squint and shield my eyes with a forearm. Within it’s radiance-blasted column, I see the outline of a woman begin to form. She’s got her left knee down, her right knee up. Her left hand is palming the ground. The right is raised above her head, drinking in a crackle of pure green lightning that jags and forks down from the heavens. She lifts her chin and locks eyes with me.
Soccer Mom Prime.
More tentacles burst through my torso and she races over, grabbing my face with hands made of glimmer, and plants her lips firmly onto mine.
Her essence pours into me like a rising tide, healing my body from the inside out, filling me with eldritch energy that leaks from my eyes, my mouth…my freakin’ FINGERNAILS. A few more seconds of this mind-bending sacrament, and then she’s gone.
I look down at my belly. No tentacles. No blood. I let my head fall back and whisper a wordless thanks.
Then I get back on my computer. But don’t worry: I’ve learned my lesson.
No more xvideos.
Pornhub.com, hear I come! 😀
Have you accidentally navigated through a porn website and inadvertently borne witness to something that’s scarred your very soul and infested you with multi-tentacled daemons? Not to worry! 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 #sciencefiction #scifi #books #novel #book