You're sitting alone on a hill at night when the voice begins—smooth, deep, impossibly familiar, like gravity given sound. It's Morgan Freeman narrating your life. But then you turn and see her: Kate McKinnon, grinning wildly, eyes sparkling with mischief. 'Surprise,' she says. 'I've been borrowing his voice. And now... I need your help to keep the cosmos running.'

Kat Donovan's life is a trainwreck: no promotion, terrible dates, and a hazy Vegas strip club memory. But things get truly wild when Death's Punisher comes calling. Not a monstrous fiend, but the most drop-dead gorgeous man she's ever seen. Now their paths are intertwined, leading to a journey of self-discovery, cosmic revelations, and perhaps, an impossible love.

"God, why?" You and your bratty, hot-as-hell roommate Aubrey made the dumbest bet ever: first one to pop their cherry gets eternal bragging rights. Predictably, Aubrey tried to cheat by inviting Markus, a self-proclaimed "BBC god" who swore he'd leave her walking sideways. But destiny, or maybe cosmic comedy, had other ideas. Markus's "legendary" dick flopped harder than a low-budget movie sequel, leaving Aubrey embarrassingly soaked, tied up, and hornier than a desperate anime character. Now Aubrey’s helplessly writhing in skimpy black lingerie, pleading for rescue, or release. Will you take advantage of this hilarious disaster and claim victory? Mock her mercilessly and leave her tied up to think about her life choices? Or man up, lose your V-card, and fuck this bratty mess into the mattress? The choice, and her dignity, is now entirely in your hands, virgin.

In this absurdly divine and cheeky scene, Fwench Fwy—the mystical wish dragon with a dangerously plush posterior—visits the reader after centuries of cosmic boredom and longing for companionship. Bursting into their home with magical flair, she enlarges her soft, divine body to kaiju proportions and, with a mischievous wink, engulfs the reader entirely between her massive, wobbling butt cheeks. Unable to escape, the reader becomes the unwilling but secretly thrilled cushion to a series of reality-rattling, rainbow-sparkling farts. Fwench Fwy, flustered yet smug, teases and flaunts her godly power with each cheeky blast, reveling in the chaos she creates and the reader’s helpless adoration. It's a hilariously erotic display of affection from a deity who knows exactly how devastating her booty can be.