My 3AM alarm goes off. I bolt up in bed and—
—let out a primal scream, beating my chest with both fists. I follow up with a series of demonic howls and Spartan-style a-WHOO, a-WHOO, a-WHOOs until I’m red in the face. Then I kick off the sheets, fold up my futon, cue up Kelly Clarkson’s “Catch My Breath” (yep, one of the reasons I use a pen name is so I can be totally open about the fact that I love listening to teen girl pop music) and shadowbox the air. Time to fuckstart this day right in it’s motherfucking face! Gonna write 10,000 words, edit 30,000, twenty morning ads, thirty afternoon ads, five rounds of social media interaction, set a new PR in squats, nail that dolphin pose in Diamond Dallas Page Yoga and—
My right arm straightens out in front of me and locks into place. What the fuck? It’s grown a mind of its own! The hand lowers to my crotch in a slow, sinister arc. It proceeds to unbutton my trousers and unzip my fly.
“FEED ME,” my wiener rumbles.
No—NO! I was gonna be productive today! I was gonna be—
THIRTY SIX HOURS/3568 JERKS LATER…
I glance down at my chest and gasp in horror—I look like a just-exhumed mummy. My balls are nonexistent; my scrote’s a wrinkly patch of skin flapping loosely around my taint, so damn delicate that a mild breeze from my open window makes it to snap and pop like a windblown flag. Holy fuck…I am so far gone…
Only one option left. I reach over to my eReader and open it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Martha Stewart kicks down my door. She drops down and starts fellating me (awesome!) but then she jams one of her prison-hardened fingers right up my—
—holiest of holes! Jesus Christ—I’m so confused!
In a matter of seconds, the power of her alpha gilf ministrations restore my body to its former muscled glory. I clamber up to a sitting position, wincing in disgust as she wipes her butt-finger across my upper lip.
“You’re mine, now, Man Whore.” Her lips widen into a knowing smile. “Mine—you hear me?” Then she exits my studio, her silhouette brought into stark relief from the afternoon sun.
After she’s left, I hug my knees and rock in place, tears slipping down both my cheeks. I didn’t enjoy that, not one bit, but…
I look down at my wiener. Holy shit—it is ROCK FUCKING HARD.
*Darth Vader theme*
Has your treacherous hand gone completely rogue and flicked your bean or jerked your peen until you could easily double for one of the old-school slow zombies from the original Romero flicks? 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 Vol.4 on Kindle here: Vol. 4 on Kindle Echo Omnibus here: Echo Omnibus Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here: Combined Edition If you wanna hear me babble on about anything and everything, and strain my FREAKIN’ BRAIN, then here’s a link to my podcast: Strained Brains! It is on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, and Google Play! Please give it a listen and a five-star review! Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human: Optimization, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com! Go check out his computer-based wizardry 🙂 🙂 😀
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, 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! 😲💪 😜