Yet another weird ad for my novels
“What the FUCK?” Timothy Chalamet shoves me with both hands, causing me to stumble a few steps back. “Why the fuck are you even here??? This is reserved for top-shelf Man Whores!” He flings an outraged arm, encompassing the entirety of the cruise ship. Brad Pitt, Ryan Gosling, the Hemsworth brothers, and a bunch of other heartthrobs give me an evil-ass stink eye.
“You better back the fuck off, ratface.” I level a finger at his unnaturally skinny mug. “You don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to get on your stupid-ass ship.”
“Yeah?” he sneers. “What have you done, asshole?” He raises his voice, addressing the rest of his Man Whore compatriots. “This nothingburger thinks he’s world class dick! Newsflash, my guy.” He leans in like a stereotypical villain/bully. “Nobody knows who the fuck you are.”
“I don’t have to prove myself to you.” I cross my arms. “But since you’re interested…”
***TWENTY YEARS PRIOR, WHEN I WAS JUST ANOTHER NO-NAME BIG-DICKED DUDE…***
“How are you feeling, Kent?” Dr. Turner looks up from his clipboard. Light reflects off his thick-lensed glasses, turning his eyes into glaring headlights.
“Could you get your assistants to loosen these straps?” I force a nervous laugh. “This feels like the intro to a sci-fi horror movie.” I flex my arms, but no dice. They’re bound by thick leather bands, riveted into the cold steel table. Same with my head—it’s trapped inside a thick notched restraint, fitted to a sterilized cranial sheath.
“I’m sorry, Kent, but we can’t risk you losing control. The power unleashed will be nigh unthinkable.”
I close my eyes and whisper a prayer. “Do it.”
Servos whine and snap into place. IVs glow with neon blue fluid, filling my veins with cosmic energy. The overhead lights flicker and whine, then burst into fountains of bright yellow sparks.
“SHUT IT OFF!” Turner hollers. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT IT—” I can’t hear the rest, I’m screaming too damn loud.
“NYAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!”
Then it all goes dark.
***BACK TO PRESENT DAY…***
Chalamet snorts in disbelief. “They made your cum taste like CINNABON GLAZE? Are you fucking KIDDING ME???”
“It’s true,” Chris Hemsworth affirms. “I’ve seen the reports. Years of data, supported by multiple standard deviations that exceed statistical significance by an order of magnitude.”
There’s a hanging moment of weighty silence.
“But…” Chalamet sags and clutches his head. “If that’s true…”
“We can’t compete.” Brad Pitt saunters forward, twirling a machete from side to side. “If God existed, that’s exactly how it would taste. Kent’s made us all obsolete.”
Gosling points and snarls, “GET HIM!”
Fuck it. No options left. So I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
My ankle-length wiener springs from my sock and rips through my pants, expanding to a Godzilla-sized tower of flesh. As it roars into the full moon sky, the air goes blurry, and the boat sloshes violently back and forth.
The other Man Whores turn and run, but my wiener slashes downward, crushing Robert Pattinson, Chris Evans, and dozens of heartthrobs in a single blow. As it raises up again, I see their pulverized bodies dotting its veiny underside. Jason Momoa, whose lower body has been mashed into paste, croaks, “Killlll meeee,” before it comes down again, shattering steel and planking along with clusters of Man Whores.
It snakes through their ranks, entangling scores of pop culture hunks, squeezing them like an x-rated oversized boa constrictor. Harry Styles grimaces, baring his teeth before his eyes go red, and then pop right out of his overpressured skull. At the same time, his head cranes back and a fountain of blood shoots from his wide-open mouth. One by one, the others follow suit, marring the starry night sky with jets of ichor intermingled with organs.
That’s what you get, fuckholes, for hating on my Cinnabon-spurting upcurving dick! Kent Wayne wins again!
Have you volunteered for a cutting-edge experiment that’s made your cum taste like everyone wants it to taste, and now a bunch of hating-ass he-trollops are trying to kill you because you’re a goddamn sexual threat? Never fear! Buy my books, make your wiener into a Cthulu-rivaling destroyer of men and empires, and beat those fuckers into bloody-pulped oblivion!
Get A Door into Evermoor on kindle here: A Door into Evermoor. Paperback here: A Door into Evermoor, paperback. 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! [image error] [image error] [image error]
Hold on! I just got approved to be an Amazon affiliate! If you’re going to buy ANY product from Amazon, and you’d like to support my efforts for absolutely free, then simply click on one of the Echo links I’ve provided—they’ll send you to Echo’s Amazon page—and THEN buy whatever product you wish. Amazon gives me a small referral fee each time this happens! In this manner you can support my books, musings, zany ads, or my adventures along the noble path known as The Way of The Man Child WITHOUT spending any more money than you were already going to! Should you do this, I vow to send you a silent blessing, causing your genitals to adopt the optimum size, shape, smell, and death-ray attachment of choice that paralyzes your enemies with fear and envy! Entire worlds will bow before your nether parts! [image error][image error] [image error] #Kindle #KindleUnlimited #writingcommunity #writer #booktok #writerscommunity #writing