Free Xtreme Manly Man Force of Intense Badassery: Book One: The Fountain of Testoserone by Kell Inkston

unmanly
sissies. Several more minutes of walking (or being carried, for Mr.
Honkers) pass, and UDGD feels as if he’s now hearing things. Among
the choruses of insects, he feels he can also hear them speak, as
if they were all saying “Hey, bitches, you've come to the wrong
fucking neighborhood.” UDGD would, in all honesty, love to punch
each of these stupid bugs in their stupid bug faces, but he doesn't
have the time to smash each of the swamp's three billion insects in
the face.
    Time passes with the party moving
through the sludge, and as many groups of people do while walking
for long periods of time in rough, dark, rather dangerous terrain,
they enter a kind of walking trance, concentrating more on
navigating their way through the marsh than anything else. The
group for the most part loses track of time, with the exception of
IMRM, who is always on top of things. However, like many things
that bear no tactical interest to IMRM, he decides against letting
the others know that they have been walking for forty-five minutes.
However, IMRM shortly notices something that should definitely be
of interest to the others.
    Somehow, the others are so busy
navigating the swamp, they have neglected to notice that the
insects have not only stopped chirping as a whole, but are gone, as
if they are forbidden to enter this deep into the swamp. IMRM
guesses because they were gradually becoming more and more quiet,
that none of his comrades noticed the transition.
    “Pardon me,” IMRM says, ever so polite
and thoughtful in action.
    “Eh, yeah?” DTO returns, rather glad to
have a reason to speak after all the intense silence; it was
spooking him out.
    “I feel I should bring to your
attention that the insects are not in this part of the swamp, as
there are none to be heard.” IMRM says.
    Suddenly the group becomes aware of
this reality and is broken from their trance. Quickly drawing
comparisons, UDGD has realized that not only is there not a single
sound in this part of the swamp, but it is also far darker, and
reeks of decomposing flesh.
    “The hell? You're right,” UDGD says,
noting the eerie silence in the middle of the thick
marsh.
    “Big deal! What does it even matter?”
Mr. Honkers questions, kicking IMRM in his cloaked back as he hangs
on his shoulders.
    “WELL, MR. GENIUS, IT OBVS MEANS THAT
THERE'S SOMETHING SUPER MANLY NEARBY, AND WILL TOTALLY TRY TO KILL
WHATEVER GETS TOO CLOSE!” SISY says, half-mocking Mr. Honkers. The
small man with purple-tinted goggles grumbles under his breath,
sounding something similar to the phrase “truck poo, rub,” and then
speaks up again.
    “Naw, they probably just went to go
surf the net. Bugs are into that sort of lifestyle, you noob!” Mr.
Honkers asserts to his own teammate. SISY looks at Mr. Honkers with
an expression of interest.
    “NOW WHAT MIGHT THIS 'NET' THING BE?
LIKE A SPIDER WEB?” SISY questions Mr. Honkers with a large grin.
Truth is UDGD and DTO would also like to know what this “net” is.
Mr. Honkers sighs, and smiles back at SISY like a parent to a
child.
    “You'll find out one of these days,”
the small man says, condescending gauge set at “Xtreme.” SISY
shrugs, interested, but not enough so that he'd ask into it
further, and looks forward.
    “Fine then, Mr. Genius. You guys ready
to go on?” SISY states, ready to press on to see whether or not if
there are creatures to fight. No one seems to have a problem with
moving on, and as such, the group moves forward.
    The deathly, dark, dim, doomingly-dead
silence becomes only more dark and dim as the group presses on, the
only sanctuary of the absence of sound being their movement through
the murk.
    The Reader, hearing this, may ask how
it is possible that silence can become more silent, to that the
Author would like to remind the Reader that this is subspace, the
space between true dimensional spaces, so the lines of reality to
which the Reader (should he or she be from a dimension