Beastly Couplings
Like most people, there are certain sexual acts that make me cringe. For instance, I hate anal scenes in hetero porn, especially when the performers double-dip. I just can’t stop myself from thinking, “OMG, she’s going to get such a yeast infection!”
And then there’s bestiality.
For the record, I’m not into sex with pets and have never been curious to find out more about those who are. But recently I was catching up on Savage Love columns only to find Dan responding to a question from a woman whose fiancé is into doggie porn (you can find that Nov. 6 column online at ottawaxpress.ca, if you’re interested).
This got me thinking: What would I do if my husband suddenly sprung some pet fetish on me? He does claim to love animals, and while I’ve always assumed he meant that in the most normal of ways, what if he’s secretly a doggie diddler? What if his cat cuddlings go too far? I don’t actually suspect him of harbouring such a fetish, but sometimes I like to play the What If? game.
In that spirit, I decided to find out more about people who love animals a little too literally.
My first foray into the wild world of bestiality occurred at Expozine, where I met Melissa Bull. She was selling a zine called Hot Dog, whose cover featured a drooling dog with its ass to the viewer, as if offering itself for carnal delights. I shivered while handing over my five bucks, wondering what kinds of writing I’d find inside this so-called bestiary.
Dirty dogs and a horse centrefold lurked within. Taylor Brown-Evans’ “Ode to a Cephalopod, or I Love My Cuttlefish” made me unsure whether the poet’s persona was merely comparing his lover to an animal or literally screwing an aquatic creature (“you fill my lap with black ink / and I fill your womb with white ink” forces me to assume the latter). Excerpts from Eugene Ostashevsky’s Book of Pets, sprinkled throughout, are the tamest of the lineup, referring to forbidden animal love in order to make a joke at the expense of The Man in the Yellow Hat.
So why did Bull put together such a collection? Is she personally interested in the subject, or did it just seem like a good way to provoke and titillate jaded Expozine-goers?
Bull explained that the collection originally began as a joke. She says she and a gang of fellow creative writing students were annoyed with the way the class either skipped over their sex scenes or wasted time amateurishly psychoanalysing them and their writers. “I said that someone should write something really out-there to see what kind of response it would get. Like bestiality!”
Several participants stepped up to the plate. Bull says they read their work in the hallways, laughing. But instead of leaving the results as a mere in-joke amongst pals, she decided to publish the work in a zine. Here she becomes serious: “Humour isn’t something we’re encouraged to write much. It’s not something that’s always valued in the arts. But seeing the hilarious and grotesque – and sometimes quite metaphysical – pieces this group of talented artists came up with was so fun.”
So far she says responses to Hot Dog have been positive, or at least as expected. Most Expozine readers giggled with their friends over the zine, though “some people were intrigued by the cover, would flip to the horse-on-horse centrefold, look shocked, [and] close it quick, like they’d been caught doing something bad.” Indeed, it’s the drawings that readers seem most offended by, though the accompanying words can certainly bring up questions like “Is this for real?” and “Is this legal?”
But it’s all fiction, and all in fun. Bull is clear that she loves animals, but not that way. The zine’s aim “is to showcase wordplay and humour. This isn’t intended to be erotica. I can only speak for myself, of course, but the stories are totally made up, or, at worst, they’re allegorical – fables, sort of.”
Having read through the collection, a friend of mine noted that although she enjoyed some of the stories, she would definitely feel weird keeping the zine in her house. “What if I died and someone found that?” she explained. But that’s the point: If it’s not meant to be erotica, why wouldn’t people simply see the work as humorous fiction? And, barring stacks of animal porn stashed under your bed, wouldn’t you hope your friends and relatives knew you a bit better than to jump to zoophilic conclusions?
If you’re interested in checking out Hot Dog in person, hit up the zine’s launch party at the Nouveau Palais diner (281 Bernard W.) on Sunday, Dec. 14, at 7 p.m. Grab a copy of the zine, slide a few hot dogs (of the real and steamed variety) down your throat and wash ‘em down with a beer. For those who can’t attend, but would like a copy of the zine, email melissabull@gmail.com.
(Originally published at Hour.ca)
