I’m not quite a Swifty, but I’ve listened to Tay-dawg since she burst on the scene.  So when I see her emerge from a just-parked car, I beeline toward her with a napkin and pen. 

“Taylor, could I get an autograph?  I’ve been into your stuff for over a deca—”

She freezes me in place with a power-hardened stare.  “You’ll make a fine addition to my collection of trollops!”  Then she gallops toward me on all fours, leaping into the air and snarling like Gollum.  She barrels into me—”OOF!”—and breaks her fall by hugging my torso and wrapping her ankles around my shin.  A moment later she starts humping my thigh, pairing each thrust with a single-word grunt:

“You!  Are!  MINE!  You!  Are!  MINE!” 

“Agh!  No!”  I try and shake her off, but she’s too damn strong.  “I like it eighties-style, with sleazy saxophones and drawn-out gasping!”

Taylor just keeps banging away.  The last thing I see is her enormous bodyguard, holding a leather sap in his meaty fist. 

“Sorry, champ.”

Then it all goes dark.

HOURS LATER, IN TAYLOR’S BLACK-SITE DUNGEON…

“Help!  HELP!”  I bang the front of my reinforced cell.  A reptilian guard gibbers and hisses, then jabs the glass with a gleaming stick.  Blue electricity dances across it, causing me to fly backward and crash to the ground. 

“Don’t bother,” Chris Hemsworth says in a monotone voice.  He’s sitting down in the cell across from me, hugging his knees and staring blankly into space.  “Her power is beyond our mortal ken.”

I rise to my feet and dust myself off.  “There’s gotta be way out of here.”

“Look around you.  This place is filled with legions of he-whores.”

I glance left and right, registering the horde of illustrious dick.  Keanu, Gosling, Timothy Chalamet…Goddamn, who HASN’T she jailed in her odious penitentiary?

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

Kuh-BOOM!  Something plummets through the four-story ceiling, triggering a spill of rocky debris.  It’s followed by a bloom of particulate haze, aglow with rays of sunlit dust.  In the middle of the swirling, granular mess, a lone woman is crouching on the floor.

“Martha Stewart?”  I squint and blink as the figure resolves. 

Reptilian guards swear and shout.  Right before they empty their mags, the corners of her mouth curl in amusement, then she vanishes into a wind-flaring blur.  The only way I can track her is by the wet splutch of torn assholes, the beating of torsos with their own severed limbs, and—most haunting of all—her dark-as-shit, booming guffaw. 

Once she’s done, she zips over to my cell and punches through the glass.  She strides toward me (I’m cowering in the corner) hooks my arm, and helps me up.

“People forget I did federal time.  Decided to train in all forms of combat, then steep myself in knowledge of the forbidden dark arts.  You get pretty damn bored when you’re an alpha level baker, and they don’t let you knead or mess with brightly colored frosting.”

“Are you gonna fight Taylor?” I ask nervously.   “Martha, don’t!  She’s unimaginably dangerou—”

She grabs my face with her right hand, forces my mouth open in a squishy-cheeked AAH, then jams her tongue in and dips me low.

I gasp for air as she pulls me up.  While I’m still sucking wind, she flicks my crotch with an affectionate backhand.  “Calm your nuts there, sugar-dick.  It’s gonna be fun—Taylor’s evolved into a worthy opponent.  Once I’m done with her, I’m getting my money’s worth out of your upcurved thicky.  By the way—eighties-style can choke on a rancid ballsack.  Hope you’re feeling strong, cuz you’re in for an epic session of hip-slapping Nasty.” 

That’s how Martha converted me to slappa-slap smashies.  And yes, she’s 100% right—eighties-style, go fuck yourself with a turbocharged destructo-cock!  Who the hell gets off on edgy sax music?  Or exaggerates their sighs while writhing around like an interpretive dancer?  Get the fuck outta here with that mullet-haired nonsense!

Has a pop star locked you in their reptile-guarded prison?  Never fear!  Buy my books, summon Dark Martha, and ditch eighties-style sex while making your escape! 

Get A Door into Evermoor here: A Door into Evermoor.  Get Weapons of Old here: Weapons of Old 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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