Nine Months Later: An Erotic Dystopian Horror About Conceiving Human Life at the Dawn of Our Apocalypse

For 38 weeks, the only thing that would satisfy my immense appetite was red meat. I had a violent craving for steak, severely well-done and dripping not in blood, but a tangy surrogate: ketchup. I chewed the dry, tough meat for what seemed like hours, rendering the twine-like fibers into a thick cud and pausing only…

Advertisement