Contributor: Rob Bliss - - We created ourselves a god of lust because the religion of our fathers and grandfathers repressed our sexuality since birth. Before our births, for eons. That religion forbade too much – what to eat, how to dress, how to think – it should’ve known some of its adherents would rebel. We prayed to every pagan god whose name we knew. Chanted and sacrificed to all of them. Then we picked up the girl, drunk and self-drugged, from a night club. Wandering in the parking lot, puking, pissing, wanting to be a whore. We took her to the cabin. She slept for the ride, awoke on our altar. The gods granted our wish. Transformed her. Vaginas and penises and mouths and milking breasts sprouted across her bloated body. She was sixteen feet tall, fat, couldn’t move off the altar. We fucked her and were fucked by her. Our members...

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Author: Rob Bliss

Contributor: Joshua Dobson - - "Your ass is fuckin' beautiful," I tell Jenny the stripper as she claps her gelatinous cheeks against one another a few inches in front of my face. "It's too big," Jenny Jellybutt says in her high-pitched nasal voice while reaching back to smack her ass. The gunshot crack is audible over the industrial music blaring from the sound system. The impact of her hand unleashes ripples that jiggle across her bountiful butt cheeks. "No such thing as too big when it comes to ass. And anyways people are too hung up on size, shape is far more important than size and your ass is perfectly formed," I tell her as she flexes her gluteal muscles making her cheeks bounce and shimmy. "Glad you like it, but don't get too attached, its days are numbered," she says. "What's that supposed to mean?" "I've saved up almost half...

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Author: Joshua Dobson

Contributor: Liam Lawrence - - The promise is always the same. If anyone wants to get to know you – to truly know you – they have to accept the fact that you are a fake. You are a phony, a liar, a cheat. And you can’t help but tell them about your sins. And by ‘you’, I mean ‘I,’ and by ‘I,’ I mean ‘me,’ or ‘he,’ or whatever works best at distancing myself from my own wrong-doings and makes you – as in ‘yourself’ – feel most uncomfortable. It wasn’t until I was in the sixth grade that I realized there was nothing in the sewers – no clowns waiting to pull me down whenever I dropped my pants in the bathroom to go #2 - and by #2 I mean shit; no colossal alligators that had been flushed. Nothing. It might have been later than sixth grade, I can’t remember, but who wants to admit that there was no reason for their mom to accompany them...

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Author: Liam Lawrence

Contributor: Robert E. Petras - - Guess you could pretty much say I look like a nerd with my greasy, cowlicked brown hair and my habit of picking my nose. Because one of my eyes is green, the other brown doesn’t help, either. The buttoned collar on my sports shirt and the masking tape encircling the bridge of my black glasses I put on for effect. I am especially strong for someone being a skinny 145 pounds. I am an inventor. When I go out, I take some of my inventions with me, like my latest—alcohol power bars and the memory vacuum cleaner—inside a Kelly green backpack with white peace symbols dotting every side. So maybe I am a nerd, but I like to drink and can hold more alcohol than anyone I know, thanks to munching a power bar or two. Already half-drunk, I was sitting at the end of this T-town bar called the Broken Mirror Café, mining...

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Author: Robert E. Petras

Contributor: Barb Folger - - Homoerotic baloney laid sexily over aching, spread-eagle bread: and breakfast? Forget about that meal for the rest of your life. Chilled was the syrup: and it poured languidly, lazily, down a long, velvety trough of green plastic which could be guided over plates and silverware. The shade was intoxicating, a haven for barren women who had absolutely nothing holding them back from the hottest peaks of self-indulgence with a field of strangers. “I have been alerted to certain technical difficulties going on with my chauffeur, Mr. Andy Canglemeyer, which have forced me to exert myself on other duties.” Her lies sizzled on the April wind like a naughty child baking in the oven, and the challenging hands that reached out to grab her by her gingham dress were bejeweled with elegant gems from the whole world over. The...

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Author: Barb Folger

Contributor: Jay Levon - - who did this to me, who made me this way, i didn't start the fire but i let the motherfucker burn, now that i'm nearing ashes, it's time to dance in the rain, and listen to the sizzle as god's tears (or angel's piss) extinguish the tiny flames that have licked at my soul since birth. i've drank the devils semen for long enough, i'm tired of being hell's own whore, a supernatural cocksucker, time to put on my sunday best, wear the white hat for awhile, drink the kool-aid of the shiny happy people, after 30 some odd years of fucking up, it's time for a new approach. - - - Jay was born in the Ozark Mountains to a family of dirt farmers, musicians, preachers, and other such miscreants. He now lives in Mountain Home, Arkansas with a latex she-bot named Lola, and the occasional dead hook...

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Author: Jay Levon