Who's the Bitch?
While Hyeok-jin stepped out for a bit, I finished the futanari NSFW piece and immediately shot a confirmation request over to the client.
And just like that, another fetish commission was in the bag. My fragile psyche was screaming for a break, so I flopped onto the floor in a full starfish sprawl.
Hah. Fuck.
Back in the day, people used to request perfectly normal vanilla pieces, or stuff that barely scraped a mild rating. So why the hell was every single order lately either full R-18 or some deranged fetish nightmare?
I am not a fetish art factory, you degenerate bastards. I want to draw some wholesome pure-love fox beastfolk for once. Seriously.
And I needed at least a few mild-rated pieces if I was going to keep doing work streams. If every commission was hardcore adult content, I couldn't stream the process at all — I'd have to invent separate content just to have something to broadcast.
"Mild-rated pieces left… haah, only two. Sorry to the clients, but those are going to have to wait a little."
I was rearranging my illustration queue, feeling a twinge of guilt toward the noble, pure-hearted souls who'd only requested vanilla art, when—
The client must have already checked the piece. A flood of satisfied messages came pouring in.
…It's not that you can't explain it. You just don't have a real turn-on to put into words, do you?
I thought it, but I wasn't about to pick a fight with someone who'd paid a small fortune. So I played along and stroked their ego.
Click.
I left the open chat before they could even finish the sentence.
Clients who got their fetish art and walked away happy always ran the same tired script.
They thrashed around like starving ghouls, desperate for just one more illustration. The worst of them offered five times — even ten times — the original price just to rebook a commission.
Of course, if it was a tag I hated, I still turned them down. But the sheer mania they showed for their private fetish art was staggering.
Maybe they treated them like collectibles?
Could be. People had a collecting instinct for just about anything.
"About ten commissions left. Two are vanilla, so I'll draw those on stream. Knock out the other eight and that's roughly nine or ten days."
Once the commissions were done, I'd mass-produce some OC pieces for a while. It had honestly been way too long since I'd drawn anything personal.
I wanted to draw a ridiculously hot fox beastfolk with a thick, fluffy, silky, luscious tail — not some nightmare creature with both sets of genitals bolted on.
To scrub the memory of the piece I'd drawn and still found utterly grotesque, I pulled my own plump, gorgeous tail into my arms, buried my face in its soft scent, and only after my heart had finally settled did I go looking for Hyeok-jin.
"Where the hell did this bastard go that he's still not back? Don't tell me he snuck off to work again without telling me."
He'd been gone a full hour already. Way too long for just "stepping out to clear the awkward air." Irritated, I dialed his number.
But then—
Beep — beep — beep —
Clunk!
The second the call connected, the door lock clattered open like it'd been waiting for its cue. A bald head came huffing and puffing inside, white plastic bag clutched in one hand. I quietly hung up.
Then I started grilling him in a voice thick with annoyance.
"What the hell were you doing outside for a whole hour? And what's that in your hand?"
"Figured I'd grab some braised chicken while I was out. It's almost lunchtime."
He shoved the white bag of braised chicken right under my nose, face completely blank — the bald bastard.
My nine-tailed fox instincts flagged something off about the whole thing, but I didn't really have grounds to press further, and pushing would just make me look weird.
So I coiled my thick, luscious tail around the guy still sprawled on the floor catching his breath and hauled him into the kitchen.
"You brought braised chicken, so I'll let it slide this once. Next time you go somewhere, say something. I get worried for no reason, you idiot."
"No, I seriously just went for the chicken. The line was long — that's all."
"Yeah, 'just the chicken' is not what this looks like to anyone with eyes."
I dragged the indignantly protesting Hyeok-jin closer with my tail, sniffed at his scent, and opened my mouth.
"Makeup. Perfume. And a little something fresh and young underneath. Doesn't smell like you went for braised chicken. Smells like you went to meet a woman."
"…"
That got him — the classic oh-crap face. Watching his fresh little reaction, I smiled a crooked smile and leaned in to whisper playfully against his ear.
"Spit it out. Who's the bitch?"
"…So in that short window, you went to the Underworld?"
"Yeah. Had some cleanup from yesterday, and a bunch of stuff to handle related to you. The makeup smell is from a longtime colleague who's a woman."
"Oho~ Office wife, huh? Did you? Did you do it?"
I made a circle with one hand and jammed the index finger of the other through the hole. Hyeok-jin's face curdled as he spat out a double curse.
"Fuck off. I'd rather go five more rounds with you than tap some crazy bitch like that."
"Who said I'd let you? Dream on, dumbass."
"I dunno, doesn't sound like that empty a dream to me. From where I'm standing, it's any day now."
The bald bastard grinned lecherously and stared straight at my tail with zero subtlety. I whipped the gorgeous thing around and cracked him across the head with it.
Thwack!
True to form for a furry freak, the moment that soft, fluffy tail smacked his face, he broke into a dopey grin. The whole look was so pure pervert that I cracked him again with the other tail.
Thwack!
"Fuck."
Only after two hits did Hyeok-jin's already foul expression twist into something even nastier. At that, I coiled my soft, warm tail around him and even fed a piece of braised chicken into his mouth.
"If you're gonna talk shit, shut up and eat your damn chicken. Stop killing my appetite."
"Hold up — did this just come out of your mouth?"
"…Yeah?"
What kind of garbage is he about to say now? Don't you dare call it an indirect kiss.
Don't. I will actually end you, you bastard.
I fixed the bald head in front of me with a murderous glare, but he didn't care in the slightest. He even laughed as he opened his mouth.
"So that's an indirect kiss, then? Look at you… mouth says no, but the body's already full female, huh?"
"You absolute fucking lunatic—!"
CLANG!!!
I finally managed to rein in my emotions only after swinging a frying pan and cracking it full-force against his skull.
Once I'd cooled off a little, curiosity about the Underworld got the better of me, and I started grilling Hyeok-jin with questions.
"So what even is the Underworld? From everything you've said, it sounds completely cut off from regular reality. That black fox girl who showed up before, and the succubus — they're from over there?"
"Ha-ri's from over there, yeah. The succubus isn't, strictly speaking. She's from the Demon Realm — just here on business."
"That's some hardcore fantasy. Well, me getting TS'd into this ridiculously hot nine-tailed fox beastfolk was already peak fantasy, so."
I said it while hugging my fluffy golden tail close. Hyeok-jin nodded and launched into a proper explanation of the Underworld.
"Short version: modern world with fantasy layered on top. The things walking around aren't people — think the youkai and monsters out of old folklore, or the heroes and gods out of myth. Easier that way."
"Do they walk around looking human, or as themselves?"
"Looking human is only for the Surface World. The Underworld's free. If you wander the Surface looking like what you really are and cause a panic, you get disposed of on the spot."
The bald bastard delivered that blood-chilling line in the most casual voice imaginable.
I, on the other hand, was properly terrified, and my voice shook as I voiced the worry.
"…Hey. Am I actually allowed to do cosplay streams? They're not gonna show up and 'dispose' of me for causing a panic, right?"
Even my usually perky, gorgeous tail drooped limp as I trembled. Maybe the sight was just too pitiful — Hyeok-jin carefully stroked my head, then reassured me in a solid, reliable voice.
"It's fine. As long as I'm alive, nothing's going to kill you or make you suffer. Ever."
"…You mean that?"
"Yeah. I've got enough skill to keep at least you alive."
Not his usual crude grin — a warm smile this time, as he pulled me into his arms.
A sudden, scorching heat surged up through me, and without a second of hesitation I drove my fist straight into his solar plexus.
POW—!
"GAAACK!!!"
True to his muscle-pig nature, he made a noise like a hog having its throat cut and rolled around on the floor. I ground my foot into my pathetic ball-buddy and slowly started getting my feelings back under control.
Fuck.
Is it really okay to keep living together like this?
Day by day, my feelings — and my body — keep getting weirder.
…Whatever. Less than a week left now.
Nothing worth worrying about.
Telling myself there was nothing to dwell on, I stomped down even harder on the screaming bastard.