184: Tales from the Green Man’s Abattoir

There are four (4) NEW colored artworks and three (3) black & white sketches for DISCIPLE members. Sign up & log in to view to images by visiting our secret fine dining establishment. For more details on membership tiers, ways to support the site and how to purchase comics/collections, click here. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. 


First, I'd like to acknowledge your patience for the recent slowness of the updates. This may be the 1st post of the month but I'm treating this as the final update so there won't be a new password for this one. However, I'm still pushing for the official 1st update to come in less than a week as I try to recalibrate my update schedule towards the earlier part of the month instead at the end of it, and to a rhythm that's something more manageable, which could involve 3 updates per month or otherwise. But those who are already familiar with the output for the past couple of years would know generally the amount of artwork and I'll try to stick to that.

And with that, on we go to the stuff you're waiting for:




She had been so tempestuous, fiery, and vibrant. A strong modern woman emblematic of her peers of the time. Yet, she harbored a delicious arrogance and her hubris made her a delightful creature to disassemble.

It had been arousing for him to watch his blade slip between the carcass's private regions, even though already hollowed out and nothing more than hanging slab of meat, he wondered how it would feel for her alive to know that a cold steel blade would feel between her legs. Pushing down further, and deeper. It was powerful feeling, to see a proud, strong woman split apart and then reduced to chops and cutlets ready to be devoured.

There are times when he decided that he would have a personal hand from the beginning to the end, the complete process of the subject's reduction from a live whole being to sizzling tenderloin slices on the platter, and she was such a creature. He would linger on the process, reminisce on the stages before while being on the stage during. It is rare for him to be nostalgic, but she deserved his attention.

He would enjoy and savor this moment for as long as he can.




The Green Man looked at the results of his handiwork. Ah, a splendid puzzle, a wonderful chaos of butchered meat, each part serving a very special purpose.

Just like the detective who was hot on his tail who was carefully piecing together the puzzle of the missing girl, he himself was meticulously disassembling the pieces of the farmer's daughter himself.

He had a soft spot for the girl. He wooed her, romanced her, convinced her like a cult leader to agree to sacrifice herself to him and point that finger in her father's face for his industry. For the countless of creatures that are murdered on that conveyor belt in the slaughterhouses that her father oversaw, this shall be that poetic lesson that he shall learn, that his own daughter's fate is intertwined with those of the many pigs, cattle and poultry whose genocide he so gratefully profited from.

He was never one to neglect the moment. He treasured every touch, every moment his fingers caressed a part of the girl's body, especially those that she would deem private and intimate, he would linger on it, feel his member grow larger, and speak a silent prayer to an unmentioned deity. For every cut, every moment when a larger piece will be inexorably reduced into smaller pieces he said this silent prayer. Entropy can never be reversed. The farmer's daughter can never be whole again. He understood that, even though he was not a stranger to death and sacrifice.



He would've loved to see the man's face when he sent him the video of his daughter's demise. The Green Man was always a fan of irony and held a sadistic glee whenever that came to fruition in any form. Hoisting someone by his own petard was as much a delicious dish as the tender flesh he would enjoy. How would that man feel knowing that his daughter gave good head... alive and dead? That he would eat her pussy, cooked on a dish, among other parts.

He would document every proceeding and keep the footage in his back pocket in case the man decides to step out of line again. The farmer's industry will die, the Green Man will make sure of it.



We hope you like the snippets of short tales from the Abattoir here. With that, here are some rough sketches from the drawing pad. Something as a dessert.




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