Rated 1/5 because this is not canon: Bigfoot’s supposed to be so sneaky you never see him coming.
You know what they say about a man with large feet? These stories aren’t about Big foot…
Bigfoot is just a big, furry, lavable guy.
I’m trying to make sense of that $30K a month figure. Does she make a huge profit off each sale, or are there really that many thousands of people into Cryptoerotica? (I’d click on the link to see sales numbers but I’d just as soon not have that title influence my Amazon recommendations.)
Why are you so suspicious? That’s what they said in the forum posting about their friend’s recently laid-off aunt.
So that’s the One simple Trick? Cryptid Grot? Well, who knew?
Wow. Time to take my ten-volume steamy Cupachabra epic out of the trunk.
I thought those things just sucked goats.
Vampires and Zombies are so 2013. This year it’s all about the Bigfoots.
I’ll stick with peer-reviewed Bigfoot erotica, thank you very much.
That’s when you’ve REALLY arrived: your own slash fiction…
They do, but sometimes they’re very sexy goats…
Goats, and people innocently wearing their favorite goat costume going for a perfectly innocent walk in the fields on a moonlit evening, a warm breeze ruffling their wooly locks . . .
Oh, crap, here I go giving it away for free!
I have complicated feeling about the wave of interest in monster smut. As someone who wrote a book that arguably belongs to the genre, I’m gratified to see it getting coverage. But the contemptuous smirk that goes with it makes me uneasy. But on the other other hand, most of the work that’s getting the attention isn’t… Let’s say, it does not generally emphasis prose style as its cardinal charm.
As someone who likes to think that he managed to write a clever and literate story about people having sex with bizarre creatures, I don’t know whether to try to jump on the bandwagon or just hide under my bed.
Park the bandwagon under your bed. Problem solved!
Leonard the sasquatch? I think I went to high school with him!
Or contrariwise, I can load the bed onto said wagon.
One imagines it careening downhill, me huddling underneath it with my hands over my eyes, the springs and, indeed, the frame creaking alarmingly from whatever Leonard, Dale, and Ms Wade are getting up to on top.