David Mac

Imagining Something In Her Mouth

‘I’ve had all shapes and sizes,’
she said.
‘Of dicks?’ I asked.
‘No. Of pasta,’ she replied.
‘Oh, I thought you meant dicks,’
I told her. ‘Are you sure you
didn’t mean dicks?’
‘Why would I mean dicks?’
she sneered. ‘I was
talking about the menu.’
‘The dick menu?’ I said.
‘No, the menu. We are in an
Italian restaurant.’
I looked about: ‘Oh yeah.’

My mind was always
some place else when
I was with her.


Justin Grimbol


Bella came into my office. I was working on a poem.

The poem was about butts.

I wanted to write a whole book about butts. Called it FRANKENBOOTY.

“What the fuck is that?” Bella asked.

“It’s FRANKENBOOTY. It’s going to be the next great American novel. Or poem. Or whatever.”

“No I mean that pile of trash in the corner.”

I looked over. An impressive pile of old photos, DVD cases, shitty books and other junk.

“Are you building a nest?” she asked.

“No way. Just a pile. You know how I like piles.”

“You sure do.”

“I was thinking about putting a blanket over it.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“You don’t want me to clean it?”

“I mean, I do. I do want you to clean it. But that’s a really intense pile. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

She was wearing fuzzy red sweat pants she got from my stepmom. They were baggy and cozy looking.

I grabbed her pants and pulled her close. I smelled her crotch.

She laughed and told me to stop.

“I can’t help it. I have a libido. It fills me with passion.”

“Oh baby,” she said.

And she started trying to get it on by kissing my neck and grabbing my dick.

“Stop,” I said. “I can’t do that right now. I gotta write.”


She looked at my computer screen. Microsoft Word had been minimized. YouTube was up. There was a video of a lady with a big booty twerking.

“This is you writing?”

“Sometimes when I write I watch YouTube. It gives me inspiration. You know that.”


She walked off to the living room.

And I continued writing. But I didn’t write about butts anymore. I started working on a list that I was planning on sending to Cracked.


I could only think of a few Transformers. There was Arcee. The pink lady from the movie. She was hot. Great legs.

Then there was that chick from the GoBots but she kinda seemed like a tranny. I thought trannies were sexy. But did I really want to open up about that in an article about female transformers?

I was online researching female Transformers when Bella came in again.

She looked at the screen and saw a picture of a Transformer.

“You have to be kidding me,” she said.

I shut my laptop.

“It’s not what you think,” I said.

“This is fucked,” she said.

She stormed off.

I chased after her.

She liked that.

Soon we were playing tag.

I caught her at one point and then I pulled her pants down and smelled her butt.

Then I dragged her off to the bedroom.

We started having sex.

“Have you noticed our sex has gotten a lot more cuddly?” I asked.

She nodded.

Then she kissed me.

Then I kissed her back.

Frank Greasestain

Just Me and My Micropenis

“You know, before I get started with girls, I ask them, ‘you like it with skin on or skin off?’”

Roy started cracking up at his own joke; dude could barely breathe. Meanwhile, I just sat there in utter incomprehension.

He noticed the blank look on my face and asked, “What, you don’t get it?”

“No, I get it,” I said with no confidence in my voice whatsoever.

“You don’t get it! It’s because I’m an anteater, haha!”

“Ohhhhh,” I said, doing my best to fake ‘getting it.’

“I’m not circumcised.”

“Oh!” I said, finally actually getting it.

My eyes fell swiftly to the floor. I couldn’t even tell if I was circumcised or uncircumcised… I was born with a micropenis.

Doctors usually give parents the option of keeping a perpetually virginal boy or constructing a fake vagina.

Men usually don’t care about the size of vaginas. They’re just happy to be invited in. You can’t even get your foot in the door with a micropenis.

My parents were fundamentalists and of course it was God’s will for me to have nothing but a slightly oversized clit hanging (Ha! If only it were big enough to hang!) above my normal-sized nutsack.

I was made from mud. It was meant to be. Goddamn you, God.

Whenever I get embarrassed, like I was discussing Roy’s sexual exploits, my penis shrinks even further up into my body. Sometimes I worry it’ll never come back out again. This was one of those times. I had a slight panic attack in my mind but no one could ever tell. My palms were sweating.

“You alright, Mike?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

Fine? I couldn’t even masturbate.

“You’re not fine, bro. What’s wrong?”

For some stupid reason, I felt like telling the truth.

“I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even masturbated.”

“What?? You gay, dude?”

“No, I just physically can’t. Never mind. It’s not a big deal…”

It truly was no big deal. Language has a way of hanging us.

“What, Mike, you got a little Vienna Sausage or something? So long as it can crack the curtains, it can jump through the window if you know what I mean!”

He slapped me on the back, seeking my approval of his joke. A Vienna Sausage would be great, but I could hardly claim a Little Smokey.

I’d neglected to mention we were at McDonald’s. After we’d finished our large Cokes, we both had to piss, so we went to the bathroom together.

I’ll bet you can guess where this is going.

I can’t piss directly next to anyone when there are no dividers between the urinals. I’m always worried they’re sizing me up in comparison to theirs. It really, really bothers me.

But there we were. Some fat ass was in the only stall. If I didn’t piss, it’d raise suspicion, and so I took the only free urinal next to Roy. Figuring I could fake it if nothing else, I unzipped and pinched my ‘Johnson’ (what’s diminutive for Johnson?) out of my drawers.

But before I could squeeze anything out, I heard the loud, heavy stream pounding down on Roy’s urinal cake. Now I knew I definitely wouldn’t piss.

“Ain’t you gonna piss, man?” Roy asked, turning to look right at me.

“Not when you’re staring at me,” I said.

“What, you got a shy bladder?”

I ignored the question.

“Holy shit, man! You call THAT a penis?”

At Roy’s urging, my already tiny penis tried to escape back into my body once again, making my present pissing situation all the more impossible. I quickly zipped up with no fear of getting caught and stormed out of the bathroom.

Ditching Roy at McDonald’s (because fuck him), I drove to a nearby park, sitting on a bench by myself. There were some high school kids making out as they strolled past, backpacks slung across their fronts to hide their boners. A trick I knew of but never had to use myself.

It was then that Roy texted me, suggesting that I tie a string around my dick and weigh it down with something.

“It’s sure to stretch,” he wrote, trying (and failing) to be helpful. “I read it on the internet!”

He obviously had no idea how hard it was to tie a knot around a micropenis. Almost impossible. I’ve tried. I’d even thought about cutting off the blood supply with a string like some people do with warts and skin tags, just letting my pathetic little excuse for a dick shrivel up and die.

I had no hope. It was useless.

When I got home, my mom was cooking breakfast for dinner. I loved having breakfast for dinner.

“We’re making bacon!” she said, smiling as I entered the door.

“Fuck you!” I yelled at her and stomped off to my room.

“This is my house! Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”

“You ruined my life!”

“I gave you life!”

“Thanks a lot!”

I slammed the door behind me and lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling until I fell asleep.

I dreamed I was walking down a long hall with brown carpeting, white walls, and kitsch paintings of flowers placed at regular intervals. The hall only got longer as I kept walking. My tiny little penis began to elongate like one of Stretch Armstrong’s limbs, stretching out like a wad of taffy behind me. I could feel bugs crawling all over it, lint and dust clinging to it as it began to drag along the floor. I kept thinking rats were going to attack it next. It was terrifying.

I woke up grabbing for the cursed appendage (if you could call it that) between my legs. Sure enough, it was still there.

Meanwhile, the smell of delicious bacon had begun to waft through the air in my room. I got up, went downstairs, and made my way to the kitchen.

“Sorry, mom,” I said, grabbing for some bacon. She never made sausage. Or hot dogs. All things considered, she was a considerate woman.

“It’s okay.”

“Why couldn’t you guys just agree to give me a pussy? I would have never known the damn difference.”

“You’re just as God made you.”

“Yeah, miserable…”

Marc Carver

Angel Dancing

The woman came up to me at the party
at which I did not have a ticket
She asked me who I was
asked if I was in insurance
no I could never do that I tell her
as I held her hand she said
you walk up and down here not talking to anybody
as if you were an angel.
And for a second I really thought it could be possible
she asked for her hand back shortly after that
then I started to dance and the night really took off

David P. Bates

The Way You Laugh

here’s your goddam
cranberry juice
and tampons

oh poor baby
is your ego bruised

hell no I
told the clerk
I like to dip ’em
and suck ’em

you’re disgusting

oh yeah I say
as I lift your legs
pull down your pajamas and
pull the cord with my teeth

Adam Schirling

the art of false emotion

Very few people these days
Understand the fine art form
Of the erotic dancer
Radical right wingers
Will sneer and call them whores
While calling for the Christ-god
Bleeding heart liberals
Will cry and blame society
And its illness
Housewives will warn sons
About such women
Citing herpes and drugs
Father will nod in agreement
Then sneak away to see themselves
These drugged and diseased beasts
The mouth breathers around the stage
See huge glitter covered fake tits
And a shaved pink pussy dripping
And more makeup than a clown
And a shiny pole
Like a beacon for hardons
And they grunt
And yell
And fantasize
About these women
But I see it deeper
I sit there with my 8 dollar drink
And stack of George Ws
And see inside
I look beyond the fake blowjob
And winks and kisses
I see the clever pain under
The false emotions gleaming
I see the brilliant genius behind
This cunning cunt
She is not the victim my friends
We are


Johnny Scarlotti

Blue Whale

it was our third date
i was confident i was going to get laid
everything was going great then
we went skinny dipping into the ocean and…
we encountered a 105-foot blue whale
the biggest fucking creature on earth today
and i yelled at her
but she was mesmerized
she swam up to it
“STOP IT!” “GET BACK!” i yelled
she started petting it
“NO, DON’T!”
“OH MY GOD!” she squealed
she was petting it and hugging it
and all of the sudden a 12-foot-long,
1,000-pound penis jutted out
the biggest penis on earth
it attacked her
gored her, fucked her
into a million little pieces
amongst 40 pints of ejaculate
then it turned on me but
i was a safe distance away
and i made it to shore without a problem
the ocean is fucked
i’m never going in there again

Kerney Bee


Everything is temporary.
I speak in this tone
that brings home the fact
Life can be so dull.
It’s not all excitement of
laughter and kisses,
making money, being popular.
Well, sometimes it is just
a warm soapy bath being
filled with tears of salt
to help heal your bones,
while you wish you were anywhere
but soaking in whatever this is.