“Goddamned micro-dicked tech lords!” Pete Davidson rages.  “Why the fuck won’t they leave us alone?”  He peeks above our trench, then ducks back down as an AI-powered spider-drone cuts loose with its miniguns. 

“You know damn well why.”  I slap another battery into my DE (directed energy) rifle.  “Fuckers won’t stop until there’s no one alive that’s bigger than 7 in length, girthier than 5 in circumference.”

“God DAMN my giant penis!” Michael Fassbender sobs.  “I hate it—I HATE IT!”

I grab his lapels and hit him with a Patton-style slap.  “So do Zuck, Elon, and Bezos!  You better grab hold of your sack and—”

“Holy SHIT!” Jon Hamm yells.  “All three are here!!!”

I shoulder my rifle and peek over the berm.  Sure enough, the trio of amoeba-dicked hater-nerds are plodding across the field, ensconced in twenty-feet tall, battle-mech armor. 

“FUCK YOU!”  Liam Neeson goes full fucking auto, drenching the air with blazing flashes of destructive light. 

Zuck points a chain-gun appendage at him, and—BRRRRT—reduces his shoulders and head into bone-speckled mist.  A second later, Daniel Craig explodes into wet, pulpy tissue. 

“Game over!”  Jamie Foxx screeches.  “GAME OVER, MAN!!!”  He throws down his rifle and runs out of the trench, fleeing from the oncoming techno-born death squad.  Three steps in, Elon deploys a quartet of micro-missiles.  They dance around each other in a smoky weave, then blast Jamie Foxx out of his boots. 

Fuck.  FUCK.  No options left.  So I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

My wiener uncoils from my thigh and snakes out from my trousers.  “How the fuck are you losing to these gerbil-dicked geeks?”  He snatches up a rifle and lays down a storm of fire.  “Come on you apes—YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER???”  Then he surges forward, yanking me out of the protective trench.

“Whoa, Wiener—WHOA!  They’re in goddamn battle mechs!  If we don’t find some cover, they’re gonna—”

Before I can finish, Wiener ripples across the field, punching through Elon’s cockpit in three quick twitches.  As he slumps forward in his weaponized mech, I glimpse his ruined eyes and obliterated mouth—they’re now a trio of gaping red holes, oozing with blood and mashed-up brains.

Wiener enlarges to Godzilla-esque proportions and trumpets with fury.  Bezos’s expression goes from gloating to horrified as the shadow of my cock falls across his face, right before the glans come slicing down and crushing him within his towering mech.  In the span of a second, he goes from a bald-headed mogul to a bloody mess of desecrated flesh.

Zuckerberg targets my dick with his guns, but Wiener tears off the cockpit and wraps him in a series of smeg-heavy coils.

“No!” Zuckerberg gasps.  “The SMELL…”  His eyes leak blood, then his head pops off and flies into the yonder.  (WHEEEEeeeee…)

A dozen yards behind me, my well-endowed peers erupt into cheers.

Goddamn right!  Kent Wayne wins again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

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