Dick Pic
Kaylee lived across town, over on 7th street near the Fogo de Chão. Ben had been seeing her for a week. Well, he hadn’t seen her in the traditional sense. They had met through Tinder a few months into the pandemic. She was brunette with a pixie cut and blue eyes that made him think of clear skies. In her pictures she wore patterned button dresses and overalls that made her seem artsy. He was fairly sure he had seen her in real life a couple of times at the coffee shop he worked at…well, the one he worked at before civilization came apart and his life had been reduced to browsing dating apps for thrills while waiting for some miraculous check from the government.
Kaylee’s profile said she was into The Talking Heads and that her favorite movie was Repo Man. He swiped right. The two of them matched and exchanged numbers. They texted from time to time about their favorite coffee roasts and missing smoking cigarettes at crowded bars on Saturday night. He found himself fantasizing about watching movies together at one of their apartments (hopefully hers because hoo boy, his ratty one-room with a mattress on the floor wasn’t exactly what you’d called romantic). In the shower, he’d think about fucking her. In bed. In a car. His hands fumbling at bra straps, her sharp teeth sinking into his shoulder. She seemed like a biter.
He got drunk one night off a fifth of Evan Williams and texted her these things in a moment of equal parts stupidity and passion. He woke up in the morning, nursing a hangover and dreading what the text messages in his phone would say. He opened the conversation box, bracing for impact.
Well go on, it read.
So he did. He told her he’d like to go out to a movie and then take her back home and fuck the night away. He didn’t brag about his abilities as a lover (what was there to brag about?) or make a case for her to fuck him. He just laid his desire out bare, stringing together fantasies and working them into language. He watched, heart in his throat, the tell-tale ellipses in the chat box that meant she was typing a response.
That might be nice. Once everything is over. I miss having someone touch me in that way, the message said.
A few minutes later she sent him a picture: her left arm tastefully folded across her bare chest, teeth biting into her lower lip. Black and white filter, of course.
Holy shit, he wrote back. He added a smiling face emoji. Because he was stupid.
Your turn, the message said.
He stared at the words. A minute went by.
Well? She wrote.
He replied with the first thing that came to mind: A decidedly unsexy Sure! Just give me a bit.
Ben ran to the bathroom and pulled down his pants to stare at his dick. It was a flaccid, unimpressive noodle protruding from a jungle of wild brown hair.
“Fuck,” he proclaimed to the world.
He hopped in the shower and spread cold shaving cream along his groin before mowing down the field of hair with a razor. He got out and dried himself. His heart sank when he looked into the mirror. Everything somehow looked worse: the brown hair had at least hidden the pale hilly terrain his dick was hanging from. Looking down at all that uncovered flesh, dotted with red splotches from shaving too fast, made him feel like a potbellied Grey Alien more than a man. Who would ever want to lay claim to such a body?
“Fuck meeeeee,” he said. Time to hit the panic button.
He texted Alex, who had moved away and lived in Des Moines now. Alex had always been better with women.
I need help.
Your boy’s here, Alex wrote back. What’s up?
There’s a girl.
You’re seeing someone in all of this!????
Just on Tinder. Hoping to maybe get something going on after the lockdown ends.
Is she hot?
He sent Alex a screenshot of her Tinder profile.
Oh shit, yeah she’s too hot for you.
Fuck you.
Hahahaha I kid. What’s the problem?
She wants a dick pic.
Well send a dick pic.
I’ve never sent a dick pic before.
Son….are you fucking serious?
Don’t be an asshole. Yes.
Ahahahahaha.
Fuck you.
Okay, okay. I can help you out. Show me what you’re working with.
You’re serious?
We roomed together in college, Ben. I’ve seen your beanie weenies. It’s fine. Show me the goods.
He took a picture of his dick and sent it to Alex. A few seconds went by.
Oh no, you just shaved downstairs didn’t you?
Yes. Is it obvious?
Well….
Fuck me.
Okay. Don’t panic. We can salvage this. You’ve got enough to work with. You’re gonna need to switch up the angles though. Portrait shot, not landscape. Set a timer. You need to capture your body and face in the shot. Show off the whole sculpture. Make yourself hard and grip that motherfucker like you’re proud of it. Women don’t want to look at your dick like it’s some weird hotdog just dangling there.
LMAO this is so weird.
Hey man! You wanted advice.
Yep, totally fair. And I appreciate it.
Good. Now take a shot and send me it.
What?
I need to make sure you’re sending her a good one! Send me another picture of your dick, god damn it.
Fine.
Ben closed his eyes and made himself hard thinking about Kaylee. He imagined the sounds she’d make in bed, felt the warmth of her skin against his. When he was stiff, he went into his bedroom and set the camera timer on his phone. He leaned the phone up against his bookshelf and ran to the bed. He posed, chest puffed out, hand holding his dick. He made sure he was standing in the light cutting through his window and hoped the neighbors across the way weren’t looking outside at this very moment. The phone camera clicked. He grabbed his phone and sent the picture to Alex without looking.
He waited. He checked the conversation box with Kaylee to see she had sent him a gif of Sonic The Hedgehog tapping his foot impatiently. Alex messaged him.
Hold on. I’m getting a second opinion from my roommate, Jake.
YOU’RE SHOWING A STRANGER MY DICK!?
Relax. I just need some unbiased perspective. I’m very emotionally attached to the man this dick is attached to. I need to make sure I’m taking that into account. Dick pics are a science: they should be peer-reviewed.
You fucker.
Jake says it’s a good picture mostly. He agrees with me though. You need to grip your piece tighter.
Jesus Christ.
Trust me. Grip that dick like you own it. It’ll make a difference.
Okay. I will do that. Thanks!
Good luck! Let me know how it goes!
Ben made himself hard again and took another picture, this time holding his dick tight like a vice. It hurt. He brought up the editing app on his phone and adjusted the lighting, applied a Vivid filter to hide the splotches as best he could. He stared at the picture for another minute, making sure that everything was as good as it could be, like an artist fiddling with their miniature display before presenting to the world. At long last, he hit send. He waited. The afternoon melted into night. The days curdled into a week.
She left him on read.
***
Horror Sleaze Trash 