“My favorite Man Whore.” Martha Stewart caresses my cheek with the back of a curled finger. “You know there’s no hope, right?”
I strain against my zip-ties. She’s linked them together with the ones on my ankles, forcing me to kneel with my wrists cuffed behind me. “We’re done, Martha. I’m not doing that shit with the cupcakes. Doesn’t matter how much you pay me—I deserve better.”
She throws her head back and barks out a laugh. “HA! Oh no, Kent—you WILL do that shit with the cupcakes. You think you’re too good for me, now that you’ve got big-name clients like Taylor and Ratajkowski? Think again, fuckwit—I’m gonna defile you with a panoply of baked goods, in ways that would make Sauron shit himself in terror.”
“The FUCK YOU WILL!” I snap free of my zip-ties and open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
My upcurved wiener leaps free of my sock, uncoils from my thigh, and shoots clean through my pants. Thanks to my eReader, it’s now as big as a monstrous python. I shield my face as it rears up and howls, blurring the air with an ear-splitting roar.
“Already planned for this!” Martha snarls. She opens her eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Giant labia pop through her trousers. Our prehensile genitalia leap into action, battering each other with unchecked savagery. For some insane reason, “The Duel of the Fates” starts playing in the background. Fuck—am I Obi Wan Kenobi or Qui-Gon Jinn? One survives, the other one dies…fuck it. I can’t take the chance. So I open my eReader again and activate its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Luke Skywalker leaps out of a portal holding his lightsaber, aiming for Martha’s unguarded back. “Not so fast, sister-kisser!” She shoots a hand out, grabs his throat, then batters him with her murderous unstoppable labia. As he reels and stumbles, she grabs a pair of gold-plated rolling pins mounted on her wall. “I saw what you did on the Death Star and Hoth—trynna incept us with your gross-ass incest!” She jams a rolling pin up his ass, then, as he stiffens and screams, shoves the other down his throat and shish-kebabs his organs. His eyes bug out, he collapses to his knees. Blood trickles from his mouth as he twitches and gurgles.
She’s not wrong, but FUCK. Gotta try my eReader again. I open it to another Kent Wayne novel. Magic flash.
The entire Justice League pours through the doors. Martha labia-punches Batman right in the throat, causing him to gag and stagger backwards. At the same time, she grabs Superman and Green Lantern by their miniscule cocks and breaks them off their unimpressive roots.
“COME ON!” Wonder Woman flies off with me cradled in her arms. “GOTTA SAVE YOUR SWEET UPCURVED DICK!”
I chance a look back. She blatters Aquaman with a labia combo, then smashes him between them like he was overheated playdoh. His gooey remains slop to the floor, darkening the tile with shattered bone, puddled skin, and a nasty mess of pulverized organs.
Yes, I defied Martha Stewart, but at what cost?
AT. WHAT. COST????
*Cue the theme from Requiem for a Dream*
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Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha 