Creating The Animal by Julie Hutchings
TODAY’S BREW: So much coffee that Juan Valdez gave up his borough and is now running for more coffee beans.
It’s the last day of February, and I am celebrating Stories to Strip By until the last possible minute.
You’ve met my very own beast, Trent Dixon, in The Animal, but only briefly. The story of how he came to life for me is one for another day, but the first thing Trent said to me still remains the first line in The Animal: “Everything reeked of sex to me.” Without knowing what I was writing, I created in that first chapter a mysterious, narcissistic womanizer. I did not know it was a first chapter when I wrote it. I didn’t know it was the beginning of my newest passion when Trent became possessed by a sexual force of dark, unknown origin. Well, Trent will tell you better than I will how it felt to be taken by this energy: (From chapter 1)
The change didn’t start inside of me. It levelled me from above, screeched into my feet from below, smashed me side to side, tearing me limb from limb, desecrating the bloody stumps, burning my entrails. A hurricane of anger and molten fucking that would implode me and make me new.
It was freezing, but I was sweating profusely and my dick was hard as a rock. Rawness filled me, the need to fuck something or someone grinding me into less than human. I searched the platform for a woman, though I would have settled for anyone.
I wrote for a few chapters with no idea who or what this thing was that invaded Trent, and just called him “The Fuck Beast,” which I stick with, to Kristen‘s pure delight. But as I realized I was going somewhere with this character, that I needed to figure out what exactly had taken hold of Trent.
That’s where it gets fun.
My love of twisting the classic horror figures into something new and different could not let me settle for the typical demon possession or an incubus or any little Whore Monster as such. So I started researching aggressive sex gods when I woke up for Twitter’s 5am Writer’s Club with my pot of coffee. Best way to start the day! After some digging, I came up with the creme de la creme or however you spell that of sex gods; Min.
Our Min hails from pre-Dynastic ancient Egypt and is a reproduction god, the god of fertility and sexual potency. He fueled the pharaohs to reproduce. Min was worshipped in a time when sex was guilt and rule free. Gods were earthly and of the flesh, so he was able to participate in the sexual debauchery that ensued in his name. The Egyptians did not shy away from orgies, adultery, incest, homosexuality, masturbation, or even necrophilia. My guy was depicted as a man with black skin, holding his fully erect penis in one hand and a flail in the other to represent his power and link to the pharaohs. The coolness kept coming, no pun intended. He was badass.
What I was not expecting was to find myself sympathetic to the sex god. This ruler of creation was defaced when the Christians came, his phallus destroyed in all monuments, and when Victorian Egyptologists took pictures of his statues, they would cover his penis or only shoot him from the waist up. Eventually, even his name was screwed up, and he sunk into obscurity. I could envision how shameful this would be for a god of the earth, and how he would feel so lost in the Afterworld, and how vengeful he would be. I could see how he would find like-minded men in spirit, and try to regain his place in this world through sexual deviance beyond reason. Min became a mass of sexual fury that even Trent can’t keep up with. And Min has an agenda–his conquests aren’t the prettiest girls at the bar. He has specific needs that want unleashing.
But my evolution of these characters and this story is for another blog, as is the story of how I even began writing it. Boy I do love to hear myself talk about this stuff.