Wait—what? Men are spontaneously dropping dead? Wait—WHAT? I’m the last one alive? Hold on—ZZRP—I just got teleported into a stadium-full of women, and they’re swarming me like fast-zombies from World War Z, leaping through the air with their mouths fully open, in an attempt to encompass my girthy upcurve? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???
THANK YOU, GOD!!!
48 HOURS LATER…
Murrgh…need electrolytes…brain function…dropping…
Grammar Nazi Prime folds his hands behind his back, striding beside me and dipping his chin. “Well. What have we here. The great author and award-winning Man Whore, rendered helpless by nonstop ejaculation.”
Urg. Rog. No think good. Me look like zombie. I once run and jump, eat Cheeto and dorito. Now I lay down. No eat. No chew. Too tired.
“HA!” He throw head back. Laugh loud. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier! Bought down by your greatest strength—your juicy veiny thick-ass upcurve!”
(Hm. Seem like more description than necessary).
“Anyways,” he continue. “Look at it now!” He gesture with hand.
I look down at wiener. Now look like burnt hamster tail. No. NO. How could eighth wonder of world turn into blackened tiny nub??? Must do something. Must act NOW.
I open eReader to Kent Wayne novel, activating special reality-bending power. Magic flash.
“God DAMMIT!” Grammar Nazi Prime takes off running.
My wiener expands a dozen yards, sweeping him off his feet and entangling his ankles.
“No!” He tries clawing the floor, but to no avail—I slowly but steadily drag him back toward me. “PLEASE!” Tears line his cheeks as he yanks on his legs, desperately trying to free them from my brutish womb-hammer.
It shoots up his body, breaking joints and drawing screams as it wraps tightly around his knees and hips, his spine and arms. As a uniquely phallic coup de grace, it shloops tightly over his dome, enveloping his head in its smeg-ridden folds.
“AHGODNO!” As smoke erupts from the hellish peen-helmet, a high-pitched shriek erupts from within. “EEEEEEEEEEEEE—” A second later, it abruptly cuts off. My wiener retracts, revealing Grammar Nazi Prime’s flesh-stripped skull, smoking and ridden with slow-crawling embers.
I hiss awkwardly through my clenched teeth. Yeah he was a douche, but…
Nope! That’s what you get for trynna turn my love of vajeen into a goddamn deathtrap! Kent Wayne wins again! HEH heh heh!
😀
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Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha 