An Ad Offer Came In, But...
The day after I visited the family home.
Naturally, my shut-in lifestyle hadn't changed in the slightest. Just like any other day, I was taking commission requests and drawing illustrations.
[Rough sketch: a gloomy loner girl sitting on a closed toilet lid, munching on kimbap]
At the client's request for a revised rough, I drew up an R-18 version of the defeat-fap sketch, sent it over, got confirmation one more time, and then flopped my limp body onto the bed.
"Guess I won't be able to draw this commission with the screen up either."
I'd deliberately drawn it extra pathetic so it wouldn't turn me on when I used it on stream — and yet this guy got so worked up over it that he upgraded it to full-blown R-18 smut.
"There are way too many people with unique sexual tastes in this world."
"I have told thee this many a time, yet that is hardly something thou shouldst be saying."
The Fox God, shooting down my words yet again.
I snorted at her and launched into a defense of fox beastfolk as a perfectly normal sexual preference.
"Have you ever met anyone who doesn't like fox beastfolk? Liking fox beastfolk is a normal sexual appetite, okay?"
"And why dost thou assume no such person exists? Dress it up however thou wilt — pure love or no, it is still interspecies. In this lady's estimation, thou art merely one deviant whose lust has gone mad for creatures of another species!"
"The character for 'person' is right there in the word! So it's still doing it with a person! Normal sexual appetite!"
"Haaah... Discourse with thee is utterly impossible. Just when will the fated partner arrive who can finally brand the words 'normal sexual appetite' into that wretch's skull?"
The Fox God shook her head in exasperation and vanished. Satisfied that I'd won the argument, I grinned and went back to drawing.
Coloring the rough and inking the linework both went smoothly. I was taking a short break before diving into the real work when a string of email notifications chimed one after another.
What kind of emails?
More worthless spam, or something actually important this time?
Ever since I'd started streaming and made my email public, the volume of spam had skyrocketed, so I opened my inbox without any real expectations.
And then I discovered that two surprisingly important emails had arrived.
One was from my editor (prospective). The other was an advertising inquiry.
Since the advertiser wasn't one of those clothing or lingerie companies that always nagged me to put some clothes on, I left it alone for now and started carefully reading the editor's email first.
"Let's see... 'Thank you so much for forgiving my mistake. And regarding the contract, rather than email, I'd like to meet in person and decide while talking...' huh."
Meeting in person would be a real problem. What should I do? Was there any way to negotiate around that?
While mulling it over, I scrolled down to the bottom of the email and found the person's chat ID and phone number listed.
So they wanted me to contact them that way. If I negotiated carefully enough, maybe I could finalize the contract without ever meeting face to face?
"I'll think it over a bit more and then get in touch. Both sides are serious about this, so it shouldn't fall apart that easily."
Alright, time to check the next email.
A brand-new advertiser I'd never seen before.
Just what about a nobody streamer like me had caught this advertiser's eye?
And was this yet another lingerie or clothing brand pitching an ad?
Curiosity and anxiety tangled together as I carefully opened the email — and what I found there far exceeded anything I'd expected.
"A gacha game ad... and not just any gacha — a famous one people mention all the time..."
A game so well-known that even someone like me, who didn't play games at all, had heard of it several times.
Well-designed characters, decently balanced gameplay, and a story that was actually pretty solid for a gacha title.
But a game whose gacha rates were so vicious they chewed through every single one of those virtues — or so the rumors went.
And the company that made that game had reached out to a nobody like me.
"...I feel like I absolutely have to take this, but I don't know anything about it yet, so maybe I should check out the game first?"
Whether or not it had fox beastfolk characters was a genuinely critical issue, after all.
I searched up the game before I'd even finished reading the email, started browsing through the characters one by one — and then I couldn't help but spit out a curse.
"Are these motherfuckers kidding me right now?"
A fox beastfolk character did, in fact, exist.
And not just any character — a UR-rank, the highest rarity, with strong enough performance that people called her a human-rights character.
As someone who preferred kemono-mimi fox beastfolk over full furries, that alone was more than welcome. The problem was the character's personality.
"Fucking loli mama? Loli mama??? What the hell kind of loli mama even exists in this world?!"
A mama character, by definition, needed a voluptuous body that could give you mental and physical comfort the moment you nestled into her arms.
You couldn't feel secure — mentally or physically — with a scrawny little loli body like that!
I shook my head at the game company's catastrophic mistake and carefully scrolled down, fully expecting to find scathing reviews under the character named Celina.
But instead.
The character had been whitewashed so thoroughly that the review section was drowning in glowing praise. Staring at those pedo evaluations, I made a firm resolution.
I was going to show these pedo bastards what a real mama looked like.
At the very same moment a certain nine-tailed fox was agonizing over how to draw a mama illustration that would actually be hot—
—a massive uproar was breaking out at the game company The World, the very studio that had asked her to handle an advertisement — no, an entire first-anniversary event.
The reason: the CEO had unilaterally handed one of the major pillars of the first-anniversary event — the event stream itself — to some nobody streamer.
Most of the staff were furious, declaring that their broth-brained CEO had finally pulled a truly catastrophic stunt. But a handful of remaining employees were remarkably calm about the whole thing.
"So what? The CEO's a degenerate otaku who lives on instant ramen broth. He's just being himself. Is this really something to get that mad about?"
"The users are livestock anyway — they care way more about the first-anniversary freebies, right? Dressing it up nice is fine and all, but if you just shovel enough feed at them, the users will be perfectly happy."
"And honestly, I think the CEO picked pretty well? I watched the stream — no pretension, pure unfiltered energy. It was actually fun."
But of course, minority opinions get steamrolled by the majority. And so a few of the majority-camp employees went straight to the CEO and demanded answers.
They'd made plenty of money, so why not just cast a famous celebrity?
Failing that, famous YouTubers and streamers were a dime a dozen — so why on earth had he chosen her?
They pressed him for answers, but the CEO's reply was brutally simple and clear.
"If you're so mad about it, go be the CEO yourselves."
Then he snickered and added, to the flustered employees:
"That last bit was a joke. But before you came in here to lecture me — did you actually watch that stream? If you had, you wouldn't have come up here, and you wouldn't be on my shit list right now."
"I may be a degenerate otaku, but I'm still the CEO of a company, you idiots. If I'd run the game and the company purely on my own desires, this place would've been a dumpster fire ages ago."
The CEO told them to go watch the VODs and come back, then kicked them out of his office. The employees returned to their desks seething with defiance and started watching the VODs.
Just how entertaining could it possibly have been for the CEO to make a call like that?
Puzzled, they rounded up the other staff and watched the stream together — and before long, they were back in the CEO's office begging for forgiveness.
Their judgment had been too narrow, they said. This was genuinely going to be a success.
The magnanimous CEO forgave them, then added one more remark.
"If only her chest were smaller, she'd be truly perfect. Aside from those boobs being so big they're almost intimidating, she's got every single ingredient for success."
The employees nodded along to the CEO's words while thinking the exact same thing in their hearts.
What a consistently, unwaveringly pedophilic bastard.