Ryan Gosling whispers to me:  “We’re making a break for it.  Are you in or out?”

I whisper back:  “Are you kidding me?  She’ll kill me if I take this wedding dress off.  How am I supposed to run—much less fight—in this thing?”

“She’s got me in skin-tight leather and an afro-sized merkin,” he snaps.  “How the FUCK do you think I—”

Martha Stewart wakes from her nap.  She straightens up on her polished throne—comprised of skulls and femurs—and extends her right arm towards Gosling, initiating a Dark Side-choke.  He gulps and stiffens, then begins clutching at his neck.  His feet raise off the ground, and he begins clawing at his throat with twitching fingers.

“You know the rules, Gosling.  No talking while I’m sleeping.”

A wet gurgle slips from his lips.  He manages, “Please mistress, I—”

A curl of her hand and his neck twists grotesquely, breaking into a jagged sequence of zigzagged vertebrae.  His eyes flare with shock, then slit halfway closed.  His mouth relaxes into a dull-looking “O.”

“RYAN!”  Ben Affleck comes running up to Gosling’s corpse.  Martha makes a dismissive gesture, as if she was gesturing for people to leave her alone.  Five dildos fly out of a chest by her feet and bury themselves in Affleck’s face.  He drops to his knees.  For one horrifying instant he freezes in place.  There are five plastic cocks in his eyes, mouth, and ears—all embedded up to the hilt.  Molded scrotums poke from his head, each one collecting rivulets of blood within their networks of factory-embossed wrinkles.

He falls onto his side and dies.

Martha sits in her chair and fixes the rest of us Man Whores with a level stare.  “Any other complaints?  Hmm?  What about you, fuckstick?”

She grabs her scepter and swings it at Elon Musk, who flinches like a beaten dog and replies in a trembling voice:  “No, Mistress.”

She slowly sweeps her scepter across the room, pointing at each of us in turn.  Some of us manage to stay still, others whimper or shake.  When she’s finished, a wicked smile curves her lips.

“Good.”

Chris Hemsworth bursts out of the dog cage she keeps by her side.  He’s dressed in thong underwear and a pair of across-the-chest, studded leather bandoliers.  He grunts and screams through the red ball-gag that’s lodged in his mouth.  As he gallops across the floor like a fucking animal, Martha looks at me and screams:

“STOP HIM KENT!  STOP HIM OR I’LL MAKE YOU WALK AROUND WITH A HOOKED CUCUMBER IN YOUR YOU-KNOW-WHERE!  IT’S GONNA BE YEARS INSTEAD OF MONTHS THIS TIME!”

I reach under my wedding dress and pull a quick-release lever that harnesses my junk to my leg.  A quick twist of my hips and I send it flying.  It whips around Hemsworth’s neck, causins his eyes to fly open in sudden shock.  Another twist of my hips and I spin him close to me.  He drops to his knees, staring at me with widened eyes.  As I begin choking him with coils of my man-meat, trails of tears leak down both his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” I whisper.  My vision blurs as I tear up with him.  “You know what she’ll do.  You know what she’s capable of.”

“Your…hog…is…meant…for…the…good…of…all.  Not…for…this…” he manages around the ball-gag in a distorted murmur.  “This…isn’t…you.”

His face turns purple and his eyes roll back.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Martha leaning forward on her throne, her eyes lit by an avid gleam.

“Yes,” she exclaims.  “YES!”

Martha Stewart is about to turn me into a murderer.  God help me, this is what I feared when she first got ahold of me and made me into her puppet.  She’s like a Food Network version of Negan from season 7 of the Walking Dead.

I close my eyes.  I don’t want to see what she’s about to make me do.

“ROWF!”

My eyes fly open and I see Bitefighter (my loyal buddy and 10 lb. Terrier Extraordinaire) running toward me with my eReader clutched in his mouth.  He stops, drops it on the ground, and opens it to Echo, activating its reality-distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Suddenly, my hog unwinds from Chris Hemsworth’s neck and he collapses onto his side, eyes fluttering as he hacks and sputters.  Surges of magic ripple up and down my shaft, causing it to grow and expand.  In a matter of seconds, it enlarges to the size of something that could conceivably fight both Godzilla and the Kraken at the same time.  It’s pee-slit has also turned in a huge-ass mouth.

“RAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!”  it rears back and trumpets its rage for all to hear.  Then it cocks down and slowly scans the room.

“BuCAW!”

(No idea why it made a chicken noise, but if it’s gonna save my ass, I don’t really give a damn.)

“SEIZE HIM!”  Martha shrieks.  “SEIZE HIM AND HIS GIGANTOMONGO HOG!”

Her elite guard of sorcerer-assassins begin running at the bigass monster that’s emerged from my crotch.  I’m now just an add-on; I wave wildly through the air, functioning like the tip of this worm-thing’s tail.  The guards throw an array of spells at my enchanted junk, but they spark harmlessly off its skin, only serving to make it madder. 

It sweeps through them like a T-rex maowing through a pack of deinonychus.  Martha tries to run but my dong swings its tail (with me now at the tip) to the left, sending me rocketing directly at her.  I point both fists out like Superman and punch the living shit out of the back of her head.  She goes down like she’s just been shot by a sniper.

Newly freed, thoroughly bewildered Man Whores trade stunned looks of utter disbelief.

“What do we do now?” George Clooney asks.

For an uncertain moment, we all stay silent.  Then my eyes steel over.

“We still have to dismantle the rest of her empire.  Follow me.”

My huge dragon-penis lets out a triumphant roar, and I roar with it as it flexes its lower half and lifts me into the air.  The battle cry is infectious; it spreads among the assembled Man Whores and we charge out of Martha’s throne room.  The head of my flesh-serpent leads the way, bludgeoning scores of her yuppie-worshippers as we make our escape.  Behind me, I hear the joyous screams of my fellow Man Whores as they finish off the stragglers.

Man Whores perpetuum!

 

Have you been enslaved by a Food Network tyrant who’s forcing you to use your unbelievably deadly genitalia for evil purposes?  Never fear!  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