I wake up to the feeling of someone looming over me. Mentally, I rehearse the motion of sprinting to my cabinet and drawing my gun from under my pile of heart-dotted speedos—
“Hello, Kent.” A shadowy figure resolves above me.
“Wiener?” I squinch my eyes and slowly sit up. “Why are you up? Do you realize what time it is?”
“Oh I’m well aware, Kent.” A sinister chuckle escapes its dicklips. “Time for me to take back control. I’m sick of being used for your deviant pleasure, plundering moistened holes like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Now hold on.” I raise my hands in a let’s-think-about-this gesture. “You know I’m a Man Whore. It comes with the territory.”
“Bullshit!” Wiener yells. “A certain amount of sex is acceptable—even necessary! But you wade through Soccer Moms like a cat 5 hurricane! I’m sick and tired of it!”
“Well what do you suggest?” I shout. “You’re made to service vajeen, goddammit! You can’t just up and quit!”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m taking a year-long sabbatical.”
“This isn’t about just you and me!” I slash the air with an angry hand. “If Soccer Moms don’t get a daily dose of well-endowed sex, they’re gonna go nuclear—force us to live in an oppressive dystopia! Dude, we’d have to eat quinoa EVERY DAY!”
“Not my concern,” Wiener sniffs. “I’m sick of staying up the entire night, widening orifices for twelve hours straight. A year-long sabbatical, then we’ll see.”
“THE FUCK WE WILL!” I leap out of bed and tackle my penis. “You are NOT turning your back on all of humanity! You hear me, motherfucker??? No way in HELL!”
We go crashing through the room in a mess of limbs and glans, but Wiener’s too damn strong; he snakes around my throat like a giant anaconda.
“Get…OFF…ME…” My face turns red as he constricts my airway.
“You had your chance,” Wiener says in a low, venomous hiss. “We could have gone our separate ways.”
My vision starts hazing. Black walls appear at the edges of my sight, then slowly but steadily start shrinking inward.
Fuck it. No options left. I reach over to my end-table and open my eReader to Kor’Thank, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Wiener suddenly straightens and stiffens. “Wait. What did you just—”
And then he vomits.
“Yeah, fucker!” I bare my teeth in savage triumph as gallons of semen pulse through his urethra, causing him to spasm like a seizing epileptic. “Now is the winter of my discontent!”
After the sixth or seventh ejac, Wiener collapses onto his side, moaning weakly.
I rise to my feet and stare impassively down at him. “Think you can abandon thousands of Soccer Moms? Think again, bitch. Gonna put your ass to work like there’s no tomorrow.”
“No…no…” He gives into exhaustion and falls asleep.
There’s no room for mutinous penises, not on my body! Kent Wayne wins again! Ha HA!
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