**Note** There is no "Honorable Mention" category at KillerCon. As attendees, two Splatter Club admin were thoroughly grossed out by this performance and we asked to feature Carr's submission.
Performed Live at Virtual KillerCon 2021
The handsome blonde chap—that one from the dance floor who now had me pinned in the booth—stopped exploring my chest and neck with his mouth and moved in the direction of my ear, while grinding warm and slow against my now totally-unbuttoned shirt. He whispered something to me, excitedly. At first, I didn’t care what the content of his words were, just as long as he kept saying them. His breath tickled against my face. But then he said that one word.
“Wait, what?” I asked.
He had returned his mouth to my neck, and his response came as a muffled grunt. The waves of his baritone, my wet skin, I felt like an instrument, just … vibrating. But I needed him to repeat his actual words, just in case....
Reluctantly, I pushed his shoulders back. He looked at me and grinned eagerly, and I was half-tempted to let him continue to work his way over my body.
“I said: it’s not like vampirism, the thing I do.”
“Oh, OK,” I replied. “It didn’t feel like vampirism. It felt like lust.”
His eyes penetrated me, and I wanted the rest of him to do the same.
“It is lust,” he confirmed. “You’re so beautifully congested, it’s amazing.” He licked my cheek and then returned his lips’ attention to my neck.
I wanted to question what he meant, but he was so damn beautiful. I usually ruin these moments by talking, being in my head.
Just go with it, I warned myself.
I felt like I should return a favor, kiss him back, but the angles were all wrong. So I put my fingers on his back, running my nails slowly across his shoulder blades. I tried to scooch my way down, bury my face into his chest. But he stopped me.
“Let me do this,” he said, lifting his head. “Just enjoy it, let it wash over you. I can make you feel so much better.”
I protested, told him that I could make him feel just as good. He gripped both my hands and glared at me.
“No, don’t fight this,” he said. “It will hurt if you don’t relax.”
I was scared, vulnerable. He had me pinned. I thought of screaming, fighting him. The music in the bar was so loud. No one could really see what was happening to me. And then he opened his mouth wide, wider than I believed a human could, and placed it over my left nostril.
I was too shocked to scream. He ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of it and began to suck my sinuses clean, hungrily gulping at my mucus. It was so intense. I could feel his desire in the back of my throat.
After a moment, he lifted himself up, the yellow snot, visible on the edge of his mouth. I was horrified, confused, yet able to breathe better.
He ran a finger across his lips, then licked the excess phlegm off his index with delight. It looked like asparagus-colored cum.
“God, I love allergy season,” he cooed, still straddling me and erect. “When the pollen count raises in this city … a young man’s thoughts run wild with the spring.”
I didn’t know what to say. The rest of the room seemed to die away from the two of us— him greedily eyeing me, hungry for more snot.
He kept me at bay, opened his mouth again and devoured the content of my other obstructed sinus.
Read the third place Gross-Out Winner Here
As a child growing up in the South with cerebral palsy, Benji Carr developed an eye for the bizarre and quirky, which provided all of the stories he told his friends and family with a bit of flavor. Working as a journalist, storyteller and playwright, his work – whether the stories be personal tales of struggle and survival or fiction about cannibal lunch ladies, puppet romances, drag queen funerals, and perverted killer circus clowns – has been featured in The Guardian, ArtsATL and Pembroke Magazine. Onstage, his pieces have been presented at the Center for Puppetry Arts, Alliance Theatre, and as part of the Samuel French Off-Off Broadway Short Play Festival in Manhattan. He lives in Atlanta and helps run the online literary magazine, Gutwrench Journal. Impacted is his first novel.