Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Butt stuff.

It’s everywhere.  It used to be seen as forbidden fruit, but now it’s crept into our collective consciousness.  Ever done it?  I know you’ve thought about it.  It lurks over every conversation, every moment of our butt-centric lives.  Everyone loves butts.  Which brings me to my current predicament…

 

Martha Stewart draws her three-foot dildo longsword (+5 against Man Whores, + 3 against all others), and flips it upside down so she’s pointing the blade at my exposed rectum.

“ALWAYS WANTED TO TRY THIS!” she yells.  “IT’S ALL THE RAGE THESE DAYS!”

“No!” I blubber.  “Please—you only paid me to do a juggling routine with my pendulous nuts!  I didn’t sign on for this!”

I try to get up, but she kicks me in the tailbone, making me bend back over her fair-trade, artisan-crafted, tree-trunk tabletop.  “DON’T PEE ON MY TABLE, KENT!  IT WAS MADE BY A SEXUALLY AMBIGUOUS HUMAN NAMED STARFALL, WHICH RAISES ITS VALUE BY A FACTOR OF TEN!  HOLD STILL AND RELAX YOUR SPHINCTER, ‘CAUSE THIS IS HAPPENING!  THIS IS DEFINITELY HAPPENING!”

No options left.  So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Steven Seagal—dressed in nothing but a speedo, knee-high boots, and a rich-sheened cape—flashes by Martha, lifting his arm and smearing pit-goo across her face.  He leaps onto her kitchen island counter and crouches like a gargoyle, fixing the Food Network goddess with his crazy-ass stare.

“My pit-goo can melt through titanium.  Get yourself to a hospital, Martha.”

“AH GOD!” she wails, sputtering and spitting.  “IT BURNS LIKE FIRE!  IT HURTS MY WILL TO LIVE!”  And then she runs out the door, screaming for help.

Steven fixes me with his unblinking stare.  “Don’t fuck with me.  Unless you want a faceful of soul-wilting pit-goo.”

He puts two fingers into his mouth, whistles, and leaps into the air.  A bionic unicorn streaks beneath him and he gallops off into the sunset.

Shaking my head.  Shaking my FUCKING head.

 

 

Is an enchanted dildo-sword about to plunge into the depths of your colon?  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!  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜

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14 thoughts on “Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

  1. OMFG this is the most amazing thing I’ve read today… maybe all week!! (PS: whenever I see Martha Stewart like on a television or branding…. I think of Kent Wayne and his uhhh tight sphincter. Thanks. Thanks for that. *sigh*)

    Liked by 2 people

  2. While I dont really identify as a stereotypical Aussie, I am in fact an Aussie sheila with a penchant for correctly utilising the many beautiful Aussie idioms that abound in our ‘Shtrine’. I live my lingo. Butt is for nongs and nancies. A bum is the real dinger, an outstanding (or not) anatomical descriptor of a large set of propellant musculatures we all must have in order to go somewhere or sit. ‘Butt’ has lately become a prevalent Americanisation of the much lovelier, shapelier ‘bum’. I’m bummed about that. I have a bum. It’s a nice bum by all accounts, although i havent really been able to confirm that aesthetic judgement given that my eyes are on the front of me and it is behind me for salient reasons. However i am certain that what it is, is a bum. It’s not a butt. Butt describes what’s left of a cigarette after the smoker has ingested its poisons; a butt is a wooden receptacle placed beneath a gutter to collect water and from which cowboys drank gratefully from wooden ladles resting conveniently therein. Butts seem to have proliferated in the toning and manic efforts of gym junkies hellbent on rippling trunks that cant be sustained without a great deal of sweat and expense. I’m a bum gal. It’d be a bummer if bums became extinct beneath the onslaught of an invasion of butts. I may be the last lingo speaker in the land but I’ll bloody well insist on bum when a bottom passes by. Bums are bonzer! Mine’s comfy. I’m sitting on it right now.

    Liked by 1 person

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