Don’t worry, she said, it’s just a mess.
Heartsickening. The condom on my cock split like a chapped lip.
Blame anything but me. Sure, her vagina felt unfamiliar. Parched–not dry like sandpaper. Think cottonmouth. Maybe that’s my fault, but still.
Don’t worry, it’s just a mess.
Faulty contraceptive. One of those colored types for aesthetic pleasure. Or aesthetic horror: red latex wrapped around the base of your dick. A penis in candy-apple panties.
Fast-forward:
A thick glob of red/brown tissue. Blood clots and mucous–human yolk. Scum water and toilet bowl cleaner. Scooped up in a pickle jar and crammed into the fridge.
Behind the liquid egg whites.
Just a mess.
BIO: Austin has been a part of multiple workshops and writing classes; most notably Chuck Palahniuk’s workshop, the Cult. His work has been published at the Outsider Writer’s Collective. Austin studied poetry and creative fiction at the College of Southern Idaho, where he graduated in 2009.
PULP METAL MAGAZINE 
haha—disgustingly exquisite! I have a mental picture of that jar in the fridge.
Kevin
This was absolutely disgusting. They say that the best writing moves you to either love or hate it. It’s better to feel SOMETHING, rather than be indifferent about what you’ve just read. I loved this. It made me feel vomit welling up in my throat and a strong desire for the piece to end quickly. Afterward, I felt like I’d endured an event, rather than having just read a work of fiction. Well done, sir.