Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Erany Eldithia who lived in a tower. The tower was magic; it provided for her every need if she simply asked for it.
With but a spoken command, Erany could summon up a sumptuous feast, coating her banquet-hall dining tables with glorious foods. Steaming hunks of buttered bread, fragrant soups formed from Elven waterfalls (and should one drink but a single spoonful of this soup, they would fall asleep to the sound of pleasant laughter and crackling hearth fire), she even ask her magic tower to conjure up a delicious meatloaf made of ground-up dragon’s toe. When she was a child, Erany had balked at eating such a dish, but as all children will, she became curiouser and curioser about it. On her thirteenth birthday she decided to eat a small bite—a piece that was no larger than the rind of her fingernail. Dragon’s toe meatloaf, as it turned out, was one of the tastiest foods that one could eat. Ever since then, it had been one of her favorite dishes.
The tower gave her clothing, sustenance, and wondrous toys. It could summon Elven Bladesingers, who would put on an impressive show by sparring in her living room. They would duel with enchanted longswords, clashing blue-steel blades off one another as they twisted through the air and cast deadly spells off the tips of their blades. If she was in the mood for something more spectacular, she would summon a pair of arcane sorcerers, who would transform her living room into a psychic runescape where she’d be treated to a mind-to-mind bout of conceptual combat. She would cheer them on as they employed visually instantiated syllogistics and inductives like a master of fisticuffs might employ an arm-bar or a jab.
These wonders would keep her occupied for many a year, but eventually she grew old and jaded. On her fifty-first birthday, she began to desire a romantic companion. When twilight fell, she would ascend to the top of her tower, gaze forlornly out at the rolling hills and wooded forests, and cry:
“Oh where oh where might he be—the Man Whore I know will set me free?”
For a hundred days and a hundred nights, she would repeat this call, and the animals and villagers became sad and morose. They were of the same mind as Erany; if she felt sad, then so did they. As her sorrow deepened, the folk around her became ever more bitter and ever more nasty. No longer did they greet each other with a friendly “Hi there, neighbor!” And when they called each other “fuckstick,” it was not out of jest; it was from that dark in place in their hearts that wished for the downfall of their fellow man.
Eventually, the tower grew sad as well. Erany had stopped asking it to provide her with anything but the most basic necessities: simple clothes, plain foods, and a place to sleep. One day, of its own accord, the sentient tower manifested an item of immense power: an eReader equipped with a book called Echo.
“What is this?” Erany asked, picking up the eReader. (It was a rhetorical question; the sentient tower could not express itself aside from the occasional spontaneous manifestation of a physical object.) Erany clicked open the eReader, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
“HOLY CRIMINY!” I somersault through the air and land in a half-crouch, clad in nothing but booty shorts and mask. As I straighten up, I see a super hot soccer mom princess, lustfully eyeing my giant bulge.
“And who might you be?” she asks.
“I’m Kent Wayne—sci fi author and perennial Man Whore.” I reply, putting both fists on my hips like an old-timey superhero.
She crosses her arms and gives me a level stare. “I am Erany, mistress of these lands and master of this tower. From now on, you will be my personal fuckboy.”
“Sounds good to me!” I twerk for a few seconds, eliciting a smile with my speedo-clad rump. “When do I start?”
She licks her lips. “Now.”
And so Kent Wayne, dumbass half-wit and consummate he-slut, become the personal sex slave of one Erany Eldithia. After many years of faithful servitude, he accidentally farted in his sleep, hotboxing her in the confines of her unicorn-hair sheets. She managed to survive, but ended up hating her prodigiously penised lover. Before she could kill him he fled into the wild, where he became a legendary rebel and renowned author.
But that’s a story for another day. 😉
Have you been summoned by a fairytale nobleperson who uses your body for carnal pleasure but then casts you out to fend for yourself? 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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