Content Warnings:
this is an erotic short story, including mentions of monstrous features, abilities, and appendages. All characters involved are enthusiastically consenting. This particular story includes lots of weed use, my very uneducated understanding of astronomy, mentions of breeding, and intoxication kink. Intoxication or "intox" is a consensual power exchange in which the submissive partner gets intoxicated (in this case with weed) and the dominant partner "takes advantage" of them sexually while they are too impaired to give in-the-moment consent. In real life, this is done with a lot of prior conversations about trust and boundaries. But this is a story about a giant bipedal sentient moth so I took some liberties.
Late autumn in the desert was the perfect time of year to get probed by aliens, I decided. The sun was setting and everything was a hazy shade of orangey pink, from the scrub brush to the red rock hills to the sky. It even brought out the pinks in the little iridescent alien face stamped on my sweater. During daylight it was still a little too hot for a sweater and leather pants, but once the sun set it would get chilly pretty quickly. And there I would be on my checkered picnic blanket under the stars, waiting for the little green men looking for someone to keep them warm on our unfamiliar planet's unexpected climate shifts.
Though I wasn't entirely convinced about the "little green men" part. The thing I'd seen the last several nights when I came out here had been decidedly big and pitch black, only distinguishable because it didn't have stars in its skin like the sky around it did. Just a pair of glowing red eyes. I looked around for descriptions of black aliens with red eyes but all of the people talking about it on The Truth Is Out There forums sounded hokey. I knew none of this was real, but I also knew what I'd seen in the sky as a child on a camping trip. What I saw last night.
It had been
big
. That was all I could really make out besides those attentive red eyes. We'd stared at each other for a long time, me pinned down on my picnic blanket from the force of his gaze and the amount of smoke in my brain, him maybe cataloguing all of my raw alien (to him) data. I didn't know why I assumed it was a 'he'--probably it would've been better to go with 'they' because if gender was a strange construct on Earth, it was almost certainly meaningless and incomprehensible to someone from another planet. But my body had reacted to it-him-whatever-with a lot less fear and a lot more horny than was probably sane. My brain/body had decided my shadow alien was a 'he' enough to want him to take advantage of me all vulnerable and intoxicated under the bright stars, so that's what he'd be in my head until he told me otherwise.
This whole alien thing had started with the intox kink. Well, technically it had started on a camping trip when I was 9 and went to pee in the middle of the night and saw something that was like no plane or satellite I'd ever seen before hovering over the desert. But these regular trips into the wilderness for an evening of stargazing and waiting for aliens to find me had started with fantasies born in a haze of smoke and arousal and strange memories of a floating object as stuck as I was when I got high enough. I liked bondage and domination as much as the next girl, but there were no cuffs or chains in the world that felt as safe and dangerous as being locked in my body, locked out of my mind, completely at a trusted someone's mercy.
Not that I had any real world experience with it. Yet.
That wasn't why I was
really
out in the middle of nowhere, peeling off my black pants because pleather really was a terrible idea to wear in a desert. I was waiting for the last burning light of the sun to set so I could look at the famous green comet passing close to earth tonight. If my shadowy alien friend returned so I could convince him to fuck me, so much the better. It would be enough just to hear about what it was like to be up there in the vast darkness between the cluttered stars, weightless and silent and alone, watching beautiful things out the windows of your metal cocoon, safe to feel all the big feelings they brought out with complete vulnerability.
Tonight, the sky was clear with only one little hazy cloud scudding slowly across the darkening blue expanse. The only planets currently visible were the nearly full moon and the reddish glow of Mars. I clicked on my large black maglite flashlight to keep a bit of visibility on the ground and smoked as pearly white Venus and the bright yellow glow of Polaris, the North Star, began to outshine the dying sunlight. A tepid breeze tickled my bare legs, raising goosebumps and making me notice how tingly and fuzzy I already felt. I sighed happily and watched the faintest glimmer of Saturn through the exhale of smoke. People talked a lot of shit about the desert, and there was no denying that it was a formidable enemy if you didn't respect it, but there was nothing in the world like seeing the stars quite so clearly and getting to feel the weight of the night sky without anyone around to pretend for. Out here I could cry or scream or laugh or cum as the insanity of being just one tiny little speck in this infinite universe pinned me down on this inescapable spinning rock, and there was no one to judge me for it.
At least not most nights.
At first I mistook his glowing red eyes in the periphery of my vision for satellites blinking in orbit around us. But as they came closer and got bigger, I recognized them for the same phenomena that had drawn my attention many nights now. A big inky shape began to blot out the familiar smattering of stars to my left, getting impossibly bigger and bigger. There was no way this was a human, unless they were in a very elaborate Chuck E. Cheese-style costume.
But when it was close enough that I could make it out clearly from the light of my flashlight, I knew it couldn't be a costume either. He was tall, overwhelmingly so, with goggle-like red eyes and a thick ruffed neck that gave way to broad shoulders that seemed to have wings draping off the back of them. But what made it--
him--
so clearly inhuman was his impossibly narrow belly and hips, like he was an upside-down triangle perched on long, lean legs that ended in strangely clawed feet. Too narrow and long for any person to fit into like a mascot suit.
He was covered head to toe in black fuzzy stuff that wasn't quite fur, and the wings off his shoulders were not feathered but chitinous. They were big, draping down to the desert floor in elegant layers, full of patterns and splotches of colors I couldn't make out in the dark. Like a moth's. I squeezed my bare thighs together as I realized my mistake: I wasn't trying to seduce an alien, I was trying to seduce a Mothman.
[picture]
"Oh hey," I said with studied nonchalance that was a little ruined by the slight shake of excitement in my voice. "It's you. I was hoping you'd show."
The Mothman just stared down at me a few feet away from my blanket, completely silent.
"I'm looking for aliens," I told him lamely. "Are Mothmen aliens?"
My big lurking probably-not-an-alien tilted his head to one side like a puzzled dog.
"Is there more than one mothman? Or are you the only one? That's what you are, right?"
It continued to just stare at me.
"How'd you get so far from West Virginia anyway?"
He didn't respond or in any way indicate that he understood me. But maybe he was just playing it cool. Cooler than me. We were in a cool-off now and I was losing. Maybe that was ok, though. Someone had to break the ice or we'd both be so cool we'd never fuck. Sex wasn't cool, despite the cool-factor it bestowed on people who were getting it regularly and well. Sex was heat and passion and getting so caught up in how good each other feels that you don't care what faces you're making or if your bits look weird. Sex was vulnerability, and I loved it most for that. Orgasms were great--
incredible
, actually--but I could give those to myself just fine. The appeal of sex with someone else was all in the rush of the trust fall and the gravity-defying highs after not being dropped. All elevated to stomach-swooping proportions when I was dizzy and hazy and completely at someone's mercy.
