Bill Gates flicks the revolver and spins the wheel.  He snaps it shut, points it at his dick, and pulls the trigger.

CLICK.

“Ha ha!  Me next!”  Elon snatches the gun and does the same.  I can’t help but flinch as the hammer jumps forward.

CLICK.

“Go ahead, Kent.”  Bezos looks up from his five-card hand.

“Uh…”  I raise my palms as Elon offers me the revolver.  “Come on, guys.”  A nervous laugh.  “I came here for poker and drinks, plus I rolled a natural twenty on girth and upcurve.  I’m not gonna ruin that with a bullet to the meat.”

“Don’t worry,” Bill Gates wheeze-whines, with perfect nerdish wheezy-whineyness.  “If you shoot your dick off, we’ll just replace it with something better.  Show him, fellas.” 

They place their cards on the table and whip out their wieners.  Their pathetic, stubby remnants have been fitted with circuitry-filled prosthetics, aglow with countless diodes and steam-powered rods. 

“See?”  Bezos gestures at his cyborg abomination.  “Way better than the laughable quarter-chodes we used to pack.  As everyone knows, the female orgasm is a long-standing myth, but now I can at least pretend it’s within reach.  Fives!”  He exchanges high-fives with Elon and Bill.

“Uh…not sure about the myth thing,” I say hesitantly.  “I’ll have to think about it, yeah?  I’m not sure I want to trade what I’ve got for a Vader-esque destructo-cock.”

Elon shoves the revolver into my chest.  “Do it, Kent.”  His cheer has been replaced with low-key menace.  I’m not liking the change in tone—the other two are giving me rapacious grins.  This feels like the card game at the end of Training Day, only instead of threatening to push my shit in, these crazies want me to shoot my own dick off.

“Do it.”

I take the revolver from his hand, trying to think of how I can get out of this.  Ain’t no way I’m blasting my womb-hammer.  I wasn’t cursed with gerbil-dick (or the desire to eat human bacon), like these tech-mogul psychos. 

Down in my pants, my wiener twitches and expresses a nervous squeak.  “It’s all right,” I mutter.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it fucking ain’t,” Bill Gates scoffs.  “Now put it out of its fucking misery, before we shove that gun up your motherfucking ass.”

“Okay.  All right.  Easy.”  I take the gun, slowly point it at my crotch…then snap in on Elon’s face.  “Back, motherfucker!”  I shoot to my feet, scraping my chair across the tile.  “Put your cocks away and face the wall!”

They rise to their feet with predatory smiles.  “Seriously?  You think we can’t deflect a pansy-ass bullet?”  Bezos’s robo-wiener telescopes upward, weaving back and forth in front of his face.  “Think again, dipshit.”

Fuck.  Even if I luck out—there’s a one-in-six chance the bullet is chambered—I can only shoot a single dude.  The others will rip me to pieces with their souped-up peens.

No options left.  So I reach in my pocket and open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

My prothagonous wiener retracts from my sock, uncoils from my thigh, and bursts from my pants in a giant mass of rippling flesh.  “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FUCKING WITH?”  Techno-magic armor begins forming around it, ensconcing it in hard-light weapons and psychic plating.  “GO ON AND WALK AWAY, ’CAUSE I’M GONNA BURN THIS MOTHERFUCKER DOWN!  KING KONG AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!!!”

Bezos and Elon extend micro-missile pods from the sides of their shafts, then deluge my peen with smoke-weave missiles.  At the same time, Bill Gates’s penis grows a razor-edged fin and a bunch of spinny little saws, then darts in and tries to slice up my piece. 

The explosions don’t do a goddamn thing, aside from highlighting the terrifying magnificence of my balls and my frenulum.  As detonations spackle my award-winning vajeen-widener, it snakes around Bill’s nasty-edged blades, wraps around the base of his wiener, and tears the Microsoft-run phallus clean off its owner. 

Bill drops to his knees, clutching the air and screaming, “WHY GOD WHY?”  Then he draws a wakizashi and commits seppuku.

Meanwhile, my penis is beating the absolute shit out of Bezos and Elon, slapping them silly with lightning fast combos and rune-chained blasts of devastating magic.  It whip-coils around Elon’s neck, squeezes tight, and—

“HUURRRK!” 

—pops his head off his spurting neck.  It follows up by tracing elegant curls in the air (kinda like a girthy version of ribbon gymnastics) and punching Bezos through the goddamn heart.  His eyes go blank, he falls to his knees, then he crumples on to his side and dies with a gurgle.

I stare at their corpses, struggling to process the onslaught of violence.  Wiener catches my attention with a jerk of his glans. 

“WANNA JERK IT TO MYFRIENDSHOTMOM DOT COM?”

I gaze back uncomprehendingly.  Then my face settles into a shit-eating grin.

“Abso-LUTE-ly!”

Kent Wayne wins again!  😀

Have you been suckered into a fucked-up version of the card game in Training Day, only with destructo-cocked billionaires instead of tatted-up thugs?  Never fear!  Buy my books and fight them with your techno-magic genitals!

Get A Door into Evermoor here: A Door into Evermoor. 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  Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human:  Optimization!    

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