Black clouds scar the horizon.  Insect-headed birds circle beneath them, piercing the air with their shrill, piercing caws.  Hundreds of feet below, rocky cliffs mar the landscape.  Eight-legged predators crawl across their faces—they look like ten-foot long, rapacious salamanders.  No eyes, a whip-like tail with a barb at the end, and a grinning, fanged mouth.

It’s been thirteen years since the Cleansing Fire.  Instead of settling their differences in a civil manner, our leaders employed devastating weapons:  catastrophic death-engines that wiped out 99% the world’s population.  There used to be nations.  Buildings, infrastructure, people…now, there are only shattered wastelands.  Boiling seas filled with poison and bile, giving birth to monsters that would make the most hardened soul recoil in horror.

And those who survived…gangs of rapists and murderers, marauders and deviants.  If there are good people roaming this godforsaken hell, I haven’t encountered them.  No—everyone I’ve met I’ve had to fight.  Typically, I rip their arms off and beat them to death with them.

Who am I?  I’m surprised you haven’t guessed.

I’m Soccer Mom Prime.

And I am SERIOUSLY in need of a thick, upcurved dick.

But after the Cleansing Fire, irony reared its ugly head.  Every survivor is a lowly beta-males.  Penis size?  Bitch, please.  We’re talking 2, 3 inches MAX…and that’s if we’re being extremely generous.  Most of their dicks would be jealous of an acorn.

The whine of engines fills the air, and I look toward it.  A dozen degrees off to my right, I see a rising cloud of dust.  Vehicles.  An entire fleet of them.  Fifty or sixty, maybe. 

A pair of ripped-off arms ain’t gonna cut it.

So I reach behind my back, unsheathe my atomically powered electro-katana, and lower it down to my right hip.  Sizzling blue currents jump and arc across its edge. 

I’ve done this too many times, and I know how this goes.  If they don’t kill me first, I’m gonna paint the ground with their leaking guts.

They pull up and stop, surrounding me in a long semicircle of mounted machine-guns and leering beta-males.

“Give us your weapons!” their leader calls.  “Weapons and gear, and we might let you live!”  His cohorts erupt into raucous hoots, pounding the sides of their cars with clenched fists.

Wait…those skulls dangling from the frames of their cars…I think these fuckers are the ones I’ve been looking for…

“Who are you?  What do you call yourselves?”

“The Clack Jaws, bitch!  We’ll dry your skull and hang it off our dashboard, and when we pray to Sothoth, we’ll clack your jawbones three times before—”

I hold up my hand, cutting him off.  “You’re carrying a magic eReader.”

They all look at each other, exchanging puzzled glances and uncertain murmurs.

Their leader holds up a dusty, cracked Kindle.  “This old thing?  How did you even know about—”

I throw my electro-katana at him.  It boomerangs end-over-end, cutting neatly through his left wrist.  At the same time, I hold my right hand close to my chest—index and middle finger straightened, the others curled—and hiss an eldritch phrase, boosting my speed by a thousand percent.

As they open fire, I blur across the earth, cutting around to their left flank.  Due to my speed, everything is rendered in slow motion; I can see the katana carving lazy, circling trails, lopping off one bandit head after the other, leaving a brilliant series of blue-fire loops hanging in the air.

The bandit leader’s scream, due to my boosted perception, sounds impossibly sluggish:  “KILL.  HER.  NOOOOWWWWWW!!!!”

I continue tearing through them, and whaddaya know—I DO rip someone’s arms off.  I love when you can see a little bit of humerus poking out from the stumps—that’s what I try and hit ’em with.  (Kinda like the sweet spot on a tennis racket.)

A minute later, I’m standing atop the hood of a battle-modded jeep, katana in one hand, an arm-stump in the other.  I’m surrounded by gory, shattered corpses.  Bisected skulls, ripped off jaws, caved-in chests…

Don’t fuck with Soccer Mom Prime.

But now, it’s time to open that eReader.  I hop off the jeep, walk over to it (during the fight, it flew into the air and landed on the ground), and open it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

A hurricane of light erupts from its surface.  I shield my eyes with both hands, glimpsing a dizzying whirl of Old Earth artifacts—pizza, squat racks, comics…

Then it subsides.  I try to blink away the giant sunspots still in my vision, but it takes a few seconds before they start to fade.  When they do, I find myself staring at the lust of my life:

Kent Wayne.  Sci Fi author, idiot doofus, and consummate Man Whore.  More importantly (MOST importantly), the owner of a thick, upcurved cock.  They don’t make em like that—not anymore.

He’s sitting on his butt, looking around dazedly, completely naked.  As he stands up and dusts himself off, his ankle-length piece flops down, waggling and bouncing like an unconscious snake.

“Where am I?”  His brow wrinkles in confusion.  “What the fuck?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  I plant a firm, juicy kiss on his beautiful, juicy lips, leaving us both gasping for air.  “You’re with me now.”

A giant grin widens his lips.  “Soccer Mom Prime!  Good to see you!”

I grab his low-hanging cock and start walking.  “Come on.  We’ve got a lot of fucking to do.”

By his trailing shadow, I can see he’s matching my steps.  “Uh, sure SMP…just one thing—can you hold my hand instead of my dick?”

I respond with a firm shake of my head.  “Not a chance.  I’m not letting this thing out of my sight.  Not now, not ever.”

(Who could blame her?  The damn thing’s amazing.)

😀

 

Are you a lonely soccer mom in a desolate wasteland, questing for that beautiful chunk of penis that’ll satisfy your itch beyond a shadow of a doubt?  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  Musings, Volume 1 is available here:  Musings, Volume 1  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!  😲💪 😜