Look, it’s Single Monster Dad from my previous posts! I really wanted to get him drawn. This is just a first pass, though. Like Satyr and Bultungin, Single Monster Dad isn’t set in stone.
He looks young here, and he’s supposed to. His kid was conceived when he was 15, so he’s like 17-18 in the picture.
I like the idea that his kid was born MUCH more monster-like, but actually becomes more human as it ages. Those horn buds and tail drop off, most of her hair falls out, etc. , and in the end, it only has like weird eyes, pointed ears and a unibrow by puberty. Haw haw.
The only thing I’m for-sure about with regards to Monster Dad’s appearance is him shaving horns in his hair. Does it to fit in. (It doesn’t work.)
In the warm months, he has to shear his kid like a sheep. Looks like she’s due for a trim.
Q:Somehow I immediately felt that the 'Theon gets sold to monsters' story was set somewhere like the North Italian plain, between the Alps and Venice, that big flat/hilly farmland that was still mostly wild up until Barbarossa's attempt to conquer the cities... Does that make any sense to you?
Ha ha, that’s a cool interpretation! I love hearing my stuff filtered through other people’s imaginations before they’re swayed by any art. Helps me decide on stuff.
I’ve been picturing this taking place somewhere in a Mongolian steppe-like place; a cold, rolling plain of grass and icy, rocky, slow-flowing rivers, with a mountain range in the distance and very few trees. Its been left to the monsters because it can’t be farmed, mining is difficult because you hit permafrost a few feet down, and grazing animals is more trouble than it is elsewhere.
The monsters themselves subsist on insects, lichens, and mushrooms, giant mushrooms. Like, morels you could LIVE in, mushrooms that grow like bamboo and live 500 years and each family has three or four to husband. And there would be cheese, milk, butter, and meat, from carefully maintained flocks of hardly little goat-like critters that can basically live off of nothing and have camel-like fat stores for lean times. They trade with the humans for luxuries, but that’s very recent, just within the last 50 years. The monsters could cut off contact any time, and all they would miss is flour, sugar and seafood, which they have no access to. (Buying the guy was a one-off thing.)
The guy from the story wouldn’t be a slave by the time the story began, but he would still have basically nothing but what the matriarch’s given him. A yurt, designed to be portable but that doesn’t go anywhere because he has no herds to shepherd. A goat-critter, given to him to wet-nurse his half-monster child. Various housewares and such. He would basically live in this weird limbo as a kept man who’s ostensibly free, but thoroughly dependent on the matriarch.
Much to the annoyance of the matriarch’s numerous adult children.
Been thinking about this a lot, lately.
There’s a trans-cultural tradition from the ancient and not-so-ancient world of securing contracts and peace agreements with hostage exchange. (You know, like Theon Greyjoy.) Turning over a one of your children to a former adversary is supposed to guarantee you think twice before breaking the deal, and that child grows up immersed in the culture of said adversary, making it more likely they understand their ways and less likely they turn against them in adulthood.
Imagine you’re that kid. A superfluous male child, one of six or seven siblings. And you’re turned over to your merchant family’s professional rivals. Your family’s agreed to Not To Do Whatever, and seal the deal with your life. You’ll grown up in the merchant houses dotted along the trade routes claimed by The Rivals, and learn accounting, haggling, where to buy the best rock salt and spider silk blankets …stuff that matters to a merchant. Good deal.
Except your family does The Rivals dirty, one day. And The Rivals don’t appreciate that. So, they load you on a caravan, take you out to the badlands, and sell you.
To monsters. Fucking monsters. A whole bunch of them. A whole nomadic tribe of hairy, horned, hooved, slit-pupil monsters.
You figure they’ll probably eat you or sacrifice you to their Strange And Terrible God or whatever, but they don’t. Instead, they put you to work. You cook, you clean, you do the laundry. You’re a slave. Sucks. And it stays pretty suck, for maybe 7 or 8 years.
But one of the monsters- it takes you a while to figure out it’s a lady monster- is kinder than the others. She treats you well, feeds you, makes conversation, is good to you in little ways that matter. Takes a bit of a shine to you. Okay, more than a bit. When you’re 15, you knock her up.
Trust me, she’s just as surprised as you are. She’s the monster equivalent of 47 or so, she thought she was beyond this. Also, SHE IS A MONSTER AND YOU ARE A HUMAN.
But turns out, knocking up one of the matriarchs (did I mention she’s a matriarch?) is pretty good for your social standing. You were never an American South, whippings-and-leg-irons sort of slave, but your life definitely wasn’t your own. Now, suddenly? A lot fewer monsters are entirely comfortable with telling you what to do all day. I guess this means you’re free? The monsters aren’t slave-takers by tradition, so your liberation is informal and uncontested. COOL. You could probably leave.
You’ve got a kid on the way. And who would you go home to? The family that never had a place for you to begin with, gave you away, and then sold you out, content to risk your literal death? (They probably think you ARE dead. The monsters don’t have a great reputation.) And while you’ve been serving monsters, you’ve become pretty attached to monster religion. And you want to go to monster heaven. You leave, and that’s out the door.
So you stay with the monsters. And you raise your kid. And once in awhile, you get to see your monster girlfriend. (sorta-girlfriend, anyway.)
I wanna make a comic about that guy. Maybe one day.
qwilman said: Would you ever be open to selling other people’s PDFs on the Iron Circus store?
The thought’s occurred to me. Not ready to deal with something like that right now, though.
Q:Hello, Spike! I apologize if you've made a post about this, I couldn't find it if you did. I'm heading a NSFW webzine project, but we're really struggling to find a PDF distributor to sell our zine through. I was wondering if you could suggest any possible digital publishers? Or advise us of an alternate solution?
Ahahaha aw jeez. Wow. Well.
I sell my PDFs on my own site specifically because of the trouble I had finding a way to sell smutty PDFs.
After a Smut Peddler reject with an axe to grind narc’ed to Gumroad and had SP kicked from the service, I invested about $1500 to have my sales site completely rebuilt by a professional. The software and coder cost about $500; the rest went to fees to get credit card processors to open accounts. I also signed up with CCBill, the most trustworthy payment processor that handles transactions for adult websites. (Slipshine and Filthy Figments use them.)
I now sell PDFs every day and make a bigger cut than I did from Gumroad! I made back my investment via PDF sales in the first four days, so it was a good choice for me. However, if you don’t have that kind of capital?
Yes, really! Comixology takes a big chunk, but Smut Peddler is on there without issue.
Q:Wwwwwwwhy do you think HentaiFoundry is blaming feminist for porn censorship?
I had no idea they were doing that and I can’t speak to their motivations. But considering I’ve been accused of being anti-woman and creating “unsafe spaces” by publishing womancentric porn, anything is possible.
(Drawings of cute boys kissing exploits women, you heard it here first)
Now that I have an office, I have real weekends. And on the weekend, I get to draw what I want.
Bultungin, yet again. WIP, obviously.
On the left: my favorite FRENDEN brushes. On the right, ScruffyScribbler’s 358 Copic marker color set for Manga Studio 5.
If my first erotic GN goes over well, I already have a plot for a second.
San Francisco, modern day.
Book opens with some half-drunk brogrammer gloating it up on the phone to his pals back home, bragging some angel investor just backed a dump truck full of money up onto his doorstep for his tech start-up.
"Aw bro!" they say. "Shit yeah!" they say. "Whadda you gunna do now?"
"I HAVE NO IDEA," squeals the delighted brogrammer. He’s 24, he’s never run a company before! So, his pop-collared friends walk him through it. He’ll need an office, and some desks for it. And he’ll need a secretary. A hot one. A blonde one with big boobs. You should fuck the secretary, brogrammer. Get a secretary!
Brogrammer likes this. So, he drinks another tallboy and hops onto Craigslist.
WANTED. HOT SECRETARY. FOR FILING, TYPING, COFFEE GETTING, MAYBE ALSO YOU SHOULD FUCK ME.
He waits. He gets a reply from someone named “Shannon.” HAWT. He sets up an interview!
Oops, he drunkenly forgot to specify “I like chicks.” Oops, he forgot to say “send photo.” Oops, it’s a guy.
Brogrammer jabbers and gesticulates his way to an apology. Secretary understands, it’s cool. But, uh, he actually does need this job, so….?
Brogrammer turns him down, but no one else responds to his FUCKING GROSS AD. And huh secretary actually has a great resume…?
50 pages later: Dicks.