What the fuck? Last thing I remember was jerking it to myfriendshotmom dot com, then something hit me on the head and it all went dark…
“Hnngh!” I can’t loosen the ties around my wrists or ankles. “Help!” I yell. “SOMEBODY HEL—”
The lights click on, illuminating an empty, expansive warehouse. Two people come strolling in.
“Hello, Kent.” My longtime enemy, Grammar Nazi Prime, spreads his lips in a sharklike grin. Right beside him, Karen Supreme chortles derisively.
“What do you want?” I strain against my ropes.
“There’s no room for a well-endowed, freewheeling creative—not on my watch,” Grammar Nazi Prime declares.
“What he said,” Karen Supreme affirms. “We’ve thought of something to break your mind. Anyone in our line of business—”
I interject with: “Finger-wagging tyrants that turn healthy erections into cosmic black holes?”
“Funny.” She points at me, chuckles, and looks at GNP, evoking a smirk from his thin sallow lips. “You’re a funny guy, Kent. Needless to say, we can’t have you running around and messing with our vibe. Therefore, you’re going to watch us trade our essence back and forth.”
“You’re going to fuck?” I snort. “I’m an award-winning Man Whore—I fuck like a rabbit on meth. If you think I haven’t seen any and all manner of holes, then you got another thing com—”
Grammar Nazi Prime kneels down, opens his mouth, and tilts his head up. Karen Supreme cranes over him, and vomits forcefully into his mouth.
“EW!” I scream. “GROSS!!!! WHAT IN THE FUCK????”
Grammar Nazi Prime gulps it down, stands up, and wipes his lips. “It’s a psycho-physical exchange mechanism. Through our bile, we share ideas and mentally interface at a genetic level.” Now it’s his turn—Karen Supreme kneels down, opens wide, and gulps down his vomit.
Jesus Christ, it’s like baby birds gobbling their regurgitated food. I can feel my mind fraying at the edges—this is like getting buttfucked with a rusty coat hanger, only it’s happening to my goddamn BRAIN.
“And now for the coup de grace.” My ex, Irma Horfendorff, walks in the warehouse. “Gimme some of that idea-barf.”
No. NO. This is too FUCKING MUCH. I howl in desperation, rip an arm free, and open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
My penis untucks from the lip of my sock, uncoils from around my thigh, and bursts through the middle of my pants. Simultaneously, its folds excrete a metric shit-ton of the foulest smegma you could possibly imagine, coating my enemies in waves of gross. They clutch the air and sag in place, howling as their faces melt off their skulls.
Think you can out-gross ME? Nah, fuckers, you ain’t got shit on fermented wiener-cheese!
Kent Wayne wins again! HEH heh heh!
😀
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