“You’re not a full-time member of the Justice League,” Batman warns me, “so keep it in your pants.”  He looks over at Superman.  “Why did we induct him again?  His prehensile cock is absolutely useless.”

“Come on, Bruce—anyone can step up and become a hero.  You know that better than anyone.  Recently, we’ve faced a barrage of unexpected threats, and someone like Kent might come in handy.”

“ “Handy?’  Poor choice of words,” Batman grumbles.  “Unless we’re talking about your mom.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Superman replies dryly.  “Now keep it professional.  We might be at Target, but we still represent the League.”

“We should be careful,” I add.  “Lotta Karens out and about this time of year.”

“Karens?”  Batman laughs as we step on the escalator.  “Please.”

Suddenly, Lex Luthor’s voice booms through the store:  “BATMAN AND SUPERMAN IN ONE PLACE, RIPE FOR AN AMBUSH!  CHRISTMAS COMES EARLY FOR US GENIUS SUPERVILLAINS!”

Batman flaps a dismissive hand.  “Do your worst.  We’ve foiled your plans a hundred times over.”

“VERY WELL.  KARENS…ACTIVATE!”  The intercom and televisions switch to megachurch, causing scores of Karens to stiffen in place and stare intensely at nothing.  Seconds later, a snarling horde of them pours toward us.

“Hold on!”  Superman grabs my hand and flies me up.  “Bruce?  You okay down there?”

Batman’s sticking to aikido and judo throws, so as to confound multiple opponents while minimizing damage.  “Yeah, I can handle some annoying civilians, just—AARRRGHH!!!”  He clutches his nuts and collapses in place, disappearing beneath a dozen blond bobs. 

“Bruce!  BRUCE!”  Superman swoops in low, grabs Batman’s hand, and flies us up. 

As we gain some height, I glance over at Batman.  Holy SHIT.  It’s clear by the unarmored, form-fitting parts on his costume that he’s lost a shitload of muscle mass in a matter of seconds.  What’s even more shocking is that his jawline has nearly disappeared.

“They’ve been enhanced,” he rasps.  “I don’t know how they did it, but they stole my testosterone—my dick has completely retracted into my abdomen.  That shouldn’t be possible.  Before we got here, I came in Lois three times in a row.  I should still be good for a fourth and a fifth—”

“You WHAT?” Superman yells.

Batman looks over, suddenly aghast.  “Did I say that out loud?  Clark, I was joking!  Don’t—”

“Whoops.”  Superman lets go, abandoning Bruce to the Karens below.

“No!” Batman shouts.  “Clark, you UNBELIEVABLE BASTA—”  His words transition into a bloodcurdling scream.

“Hey!” I protest, “You can’t just leave him!  You’re a founding member of the goddamn Justice League!”

“I slipped,” Superman says grimly. 

“Slipped my ass!  Now I’m glad I fucked your mom!  Wasn’t as good as Martha Stewart, but she was still a Martha, know wh’um sayin—”  I slap a hand over my mouth.  SHIT!  Did NOT mean to say that out loud!

“WHAT?”  His red-glowing eyes laser in on me, tears of rage leaking from their corners.  “Adios, FUCKHOLE.”  The tensions vanishes from my grip and I go plummeting down into the horde of Karens. 

As soon as I hit the ground, my prehensile dick turtles up, retracts from my sock, and starts unwinding from around my thigh.  Under normal circumstances, I would use my wiener to choke, bludgeon, and leg-sweep my way out of here, but these goddamn ultra-Karens have infected me with the absolute smallest of small dick energies. 

So I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

If this were a comic book movie, you’d be treated to a panoramic spinning shot that showcased a wave of undulant magic—sparkly and brilliant and all kinds of beautiful—as it swept through the Karens’ ranks and transformed them into a bevy of super-hot Soccer Moms.  My wiener stops its hellish reduction at the eight-inch mark (Whew—WAY too close!) then begins re-expanding into its natural glory. 

“I said godDAMN!” a Soccer Mom declares.  “Lay back and enjoy yourself, Kent!  Imma get me some a’ that upcurved wiener!”

I pillow my head with my hands and stare up at the ceiling.  As the Soccer Moms close in and voice excited burbles of collective agreement, a shit-eating smile blooms on my face.

Kent Wayne wins again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

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