Do you have ANY idea how hard it is to be a motherfucking Sith Lord? Goddamn Obi Wan Ke-boner is still out there, impressing the panties off girls with his stupid Light Side tricks, whereas I have to settle for hunting down rebels, playing against teenagers in online shooter games, or Force-choking my admirals. This may come as a surprise, but wearing a skull-penised helmet doesn’t really act as a pussy magnet. I guarantee you I’d pull mountains of ass if I didn’t have to wear it, but my stupid-ass boss keeps insisting I’m his evil right hand, and wants me to look the part. Dick.
You think it’s hard out there for a pimp? Try being me: Darth fucking Vader.
So you can appreciate why I’m not in the best of moods as I respawn on Counterstrike for the umpteenth fucking time, courtesy of some pimply-faced nerd who calls himself A$$KiLLeR3987. Probably some micro-dicked loser living in his mother’s basement.
Someone knocks on my door. “Lord Vader! We’ve captured a rebel! Would you like to interrogate him?”
You’re goddamn skippy I wanna interrogate him—that’s what I’d like to say, but my boss has fitted my helmet with a special modulator. It restricts my speech to a mode called: “Old-timey Villain Style.”
I angrily snap, “Go beat your dick like the rest of the fleet does when they think I’m not looking,” but what comes out is: “LEAVE ME. I AM ATTENDING TO MATTERS BEYOND YOUR KEN.”
“At once, Lord Vader.” As the dude clops away I hear him sigh in relief, and I feel a pleasant little tinge shoot through my nethers. At least I’m feared—that and Counterstrike are all that keep me going.
A$$KiLLeR3987 snipes my avatar as I pie around a corner. GodDAMMIT! I throw my controller across the chamber and clutch the air with gloved fingers, telekinetically grabbing my lightsaber. As it flies into my hand I press the trigger, causing it to ignite with a violent FSSSHHHH. Unfortunately, I’ve misaligned its kyber crystal, so instead of being badass red, it’s now neon pink.
I try to scream, “FUCK MY LIFE!” but what comes out instead is: “YOUR TIME RUNS SHORT, KENOBI! THE SHADOW OF THE EMPIRE WILL SOON DARKEN YOUR DOORSTEP! YOUR PITHY PARLOR TRICKS WILL NOT SAVE YOU!”
For the next fifteen minutes, I beat up my room like a deep-space stormtrooper beating up Mandalorian vag after a nine-month tour in the Outer Rim. “AAAAAARRHHHHHH!!!!” After I’m done, my state-of-the-art game chamber is a smoking mess, scored with countless slashes from my pink saber.
Now that I’m up, I might as well see what’s going on with this fucking captive. I think I’ll prolapse his rectum with my Dark Side magic; rebel asshole should know better than to show up on my star destroyer after I just got whupped in a game of Counterstrike. Bitch-ass motherfucker.
After walking down some harshly lit corridors, I arrive at the interrogation chamber. The door-panels hiss open. As I walk in, I lock eyes with a half-naked doof clad in booty shots and a mask. He’s strapped to a gimbaled torture table.
“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” I boom.
Get this—the cocky little ass-eater actually has the balls to wink at me. “Kent Wayne: author and Man Whore, at your service.”
“I SEE.” I pace to the left. “YOU WILL DIVULGE YOUR SECRETS, KENT WAYNE. IT IS THE ONLY WAY TO EARN A QUICK DEATH.”
“Tempting,” he chuckles. “But not my style. And just so you know: your armor may protect you from directed-energy ordnance, but its self-contained breathing apparatus leaves you painfully vulnerable to a devastating attack. One which can be executed by anyone…at any time.”
“THERE IS LITTLE YOU CAN DO, WAYNE. YOU ARE ABOARD MY PERSONAL STAR DESTROYER, SURROUNDED BY SEVERAL BATTALIONS OF HIGHLY TRAINED SHOCK TROOPS. LAST BUT NOT LEAST, I AM A DISCIPLE OF THE DARK SIDE; YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU FACE.” I gesture to the torture-bot. Time to unleash a world of pain on this clueless foam-face.
When I turn back around, he’s ripped an arm free, pulled an eReader out of his pants and opened it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
John Williams’s fanfare blasts through the air (HATE that song! FUCK!) and Kent Wayne rips free from his remaining restraints. The idiot rushes forward, ducks under my cape, and grabs my breathing hose, detaching it from the back of my air filter. Then he yanks down his shorts and sticks the hose in between his buttcheeks.
“WAIT!” I stretch my hand out. My eyes widen under my helmet. “DON’T—”
He unleashes a horrific blast of ass, filling my suit with warm, moist vapor. My eyepieces fritz with static and begin displaying the message, “SYSTEMS FAILURE,” over and over across my display. My strength dwindles as the brain-twisting smell of poorly digested pizza floods my suit, attacking my organs with unthinking fervor.
I drop to my knees then onto my side, watching as Kent runs off on all fours through dimming, sun-spotted vision. I try to stop him with a telekinetic freeze, but I’m too weak; my fingers raise a few inches up…then clatter to the deck.
God DAMN you Kent—I’ll hunt you and your fellow Man Whores down and drown you all in turbolaser fury.
You and A$$KiLLeR3987; you’re both gonna get a lightsaber-tattoo of my helmeted face right on the innermost rings of your fucking assholes.
I’m gonna…I’m gonna…
Have you been captured by a sex-deprived Sith Lord, and are now facing the full force of his micro-peen anger? 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 Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here: Combined Edition
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, upcoming podcast, 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! 😲💪 😜
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