As I walk my 10 lb. Terrier Extraordinaire past the playground, I look over at the hot-ass soccer moms and their booger-eating kids. I can’t help but notice that their leader, Soccer Mom Prime, is mother to an extraordinarily ripped and enormous toddler.
“Damn,” I say before my brain can filter my speech, “that’s a huge-ass baby.”
Soccer Mom Prime marches toward me, her Crossfit-hardened arms flexing into veiny world-beaters that swing back and forth with each determined step.
“What the fuck did you say, you unwashed proletariat? Did you just call my kid a fatass?” She pins me in place with a murderous glare.
“N-no,” I stammer. “I was simply remarking on his extraordinary athleticism.” Oh shit. My mouth and mind have fallen out of sync—I’m about to go full-on Larry David. “I’m sure he’ll steal a shitload of snacks from his weaker peers. That in turn will accelerate his growth, allowing him to achieve sexual dominance when he enters high sch—”
SLAP-WHACK-CRACK! Before I know it, she’s Krav Maga’d the shit out of my eyes, crotch, and liver. In the span of a second, I find myself lying on the ground, staring up at the sky as she maneuvers me into a wire-tight armbar.
“AHHHHHH!!!” I scream. “MERCY, SOCCER MOM PRIME! BY THE LUNCH LADY’S LOOSE-LEAF LABIA, HAVE MERCY!!!”
She hugs her knees and arches her back, cranking the hold to its absolute limit. One more millimeter and my elbow’s gonna pop.
Fuck it. No options left.
So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
My massive wiener bursts from its pants, kinda like a smellier, hairier version of Jack’s magic beanstalk. As my dickhead surges into the cloud-dotted troposphere, every Soccer Mom for miles around stops what they’re doing and gazes at my beautiful peen.
Soccer Mom Prime is no exception. She lets go of my arm and slowly rises, eyes fixed on my towering womb-hammer.
“By the Maker,” she whispers.
“Yep.” I pillow my head with my hands and shoot her a grin. “Go ahead and climb it. There’s a prize at the top.”
Hordes of Soccer Moms emerge from their homes or offices, cresting hills and horizon so they can take a shot at making me spooge. Pretty soon, my yogurt-slinger is covered in horny moms who are eager to bask in its restorative discharge (protein, antoxidants, and it’s good for your skin!).
The friction builds and peaks. Damn, that feels kinda good…Uh-oh. I think I’m gonna—
Kent Wayne wins again! HEH heh heh!
Have you accidentally said the wrong thing to the wrong mom, and now face a reckoning of apocalyptic proportions? Never fear! Get Kor’Thank here: Kor’Thank: Barbarian Valley Girl. 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! 😲💪 😜