This Isn't a Place for Drawing That Kind of Stuff

"Familiar ceiling."

Whether the Fox God had done absolutely nothing while I was out cold, I sat up to the thick scent of blood filling the room.

Man… I really bled a lot. At this rate, shouldn't I have died of blood loss?

Clean up first, then finish the commission. I'd clearly been out for a long stretch, so if I didn't start streaming soon, my life might actually be in danger.

It was only a guess, but there was no way dumping this much blood wouldn't shave something off my lifespan.

At minimum half a day. At worst, a full day of life, gone.

I wiped the dried blood off the floor with wet wipes, then sat straight down at my desk and got to work.

"Good thing I almost finished it before I saw her naked. If I hadn't, this would've been a real pain."

I sent the finished piece to the client for confirmation, then started setting up the stream gear—when the Fox God, who'd been hiding, popped out from a corner.

"And what would you do if it weren't? Well or not, I have to get up now."

If I didn't stream this instant, my entire life was going to vanish right along with her.

Tired or not, about to collapse or not—I had to stream first.

"My personality's basically a ruffian already, so who cares? Still, viewers might find it gross, so I should wash up a bit before going live."

First stream. First impressions mattered. Though with this face, I could probably lean hard into a yandere psycho-girl concept and it'd still work.

The commission confirmation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't come through yet either. Maybe it'd be waiting when I got out of the shower? Sitting around doing nothing sounded miserable, so a quick rinse first.

The blood loss left my vision swimming, so even getting to the bathroom meant bracing myself against the wall.

Walking on two steady feet was out of the question—one step and my center of gravity vanished and I nearly went down.

And thinking walking was the hard part? Wrong.

Showering was its own special hell.

A body already limp from blood loss met the drowsy warmth of hot water and tried to slip straight into dreams. Every time it did, the Fox God screamed me awake, and that was the only reason I managed to stay upright.

"But… your tits were as tempting as my own tail."

The Fox God huffed and stormed out of the bathroom. In the quiet shower stall she left behind, I stood under the water and thought.

Still. I did get a clear look at her chest.

If I hadn't seen that beautiful fruit, I would've regretted it even as a soul after death.

The Fox God, baring that uniquely feminine beauty, had been genuinely stunning.

More precisely—it felt like looking at a beauty that didn't exist in this world.

Would "mating-optimized physique" make it easier to understand?

Her body was packed with curves that would get anyone going, man or woman, young or old—and even I, stuck in a female gumiho's body, had reacted on the spot.

Even if how it ended had been spectacularly bad.

"I awakened just to look, and all I got was a glimpse of her tits. Honestly… do I call that a failure, or proof of how deep the affection runs?"

I let out a hollow laugh, dried off, and stepped out of the bathroom—where the Fox God held something out to me.

"…Is that a pipe? Why are you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suddenly giving me this? I don't smoke."

"That sounds like a drug ad. Sorry, but I don't smoke. Instead of a pipe, how about you let me suck on something else."

Your baby-food box, for example.

Ah, just thinking about it gets me going. Damn.

At her words, I took the pipe, tossed it onto the bed, and scrubbed my dripping hair with a towel at the same time.

"That wasn't a request—that was an order. You screwed up, you begged forgiveness. You don't get to call that an unbalanced ledger."

"So you're saying you did nothing wrong to me. Is that it?"

"What kind of drug is it? Smoke it and get happy. You're telling someone who's lived their whole life without even knowing the first letter of 'crime' to become a criminal?"

Apparently turning me into a fox beastman and torching my entire life hadn't been enough.

No conscience at all—now she was dead set on making me a junkie.

The antique pipe was too nice to throw away, so I stuffed it in a drawer. The Fox God looked thoroughly sulky as she spoke.

"I'd rather be a long-lived eunuch than a short-lived tough guy. I don't want any more variables in my life."

"That's not a good thing, so shut up, will you?"

I brushed off the Fox God's disappointment and logged into the community site I'd used last time, then posted.

Promote here, and at least one person would show up.

Not being able to draw NSFW and losing that traffic still stung, but if I kept at it steadily, the numbers would grow.

"These guys are unreal levels of filthy… telling me to draw 19+ on stream…"

"Shut up. Stop talking to me. If I keep chatting with you, people are going to think I'm insane."

I ignored the Fox God, angled the cam below my face, and went live.

Show my face and they'd clock me as a gumiho instantly.

Keep it focused right on the chest, and people probably wouldn't complain much.

"Anyway, how many people are even gonna show up? I'd settle for at least ten."

Web novels these days always start with a hundred, two hundred viewers right out of the gate—could I pull that kind of number?

Honestly, with this much boobage and a mating-optimized body, it didn't seem impossible.

I was roughly doodling an SD version of the Fox God when a filthy chat message caught my eye.

"What? It is an art stream. Can't you see me drawing right now?"

"You show up and ignore the art you're supposed to look at, and just stare at someone else's tits, and you think that's normal?"

"What are you supposed to do? Just quietly look at the art."

Bottom of the bottom of the barrel. A no-name among no-names.

Maybe I should've done commissions a little more often?

I was basically that obscure smut artist only the dedicated few knew, so the "come watch my stream" post probably hadn't gotten much traction.

"It's fine. Three people showing up for a first stream is something. Thanks for coming to watch, everyone."

"Hey, stop staring at the chest and look at the art already?"

"Turn the cam off?"

I said it coldly, and the two viewers who'd been holding their silence finally typed.

Apparently the viewers on my first stream were just as unhinged as I was.