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I shudder at the feel of his flesh touching mine, but at the same time, I can’t help but feel a twinge inside me. Whether I want to admit to it or not, there is something wickedly taboo and hot about the idea of being railed by a monster.
“I can smell your musk, little one,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “Do not be ashamed. I am built for mating. My form is as pleasing as can be to ensure successful breeding.”
I can only stare down my body at him as he gently presses the head of his cock against me, increasing the pressure as he attempts to enter me.
“Wait,” I gasp.
The Mothman glances up with his spectacular, insect-like eyes. They flash ruby-red in the firelight. Their beauty is mesmerizing.
“Do you have a name, besides ‘Mothman’, I mean?”
“Curious,” he muses. “I have been called a handful of things over the last couple centuries, but my true name is what I am and have always been. I am Omen.”
My eyes widen. I should have known. “They say you appear before tragedy and life-changing events…” and that’s the last coherent word to fall from my lips as Omen plows forward, sinking the first knot of his strange cock inside of my surprisingly wet cunt. A groan escapes me, and I instinctively claw at the blankets beneath me.
Omen smiles down on me, his mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. It’s as beautiful as it is insane—the perfect expression of lunacy—and the very picture of Halloween.
My pussy reacts to the intrusion, clamping down around the knot as my back arches.
“You are so tight, my beauty,” he says, before seizing my ankles and driving forward again.
A garbled moan of ecstasy burbles out of me, spilling like water from a fountain as his second knot stretches me wide again. The temporary burn of the stretch is everything. And despite every doubt and fear, my body acts of its own accord, pushing forward, desperate to consume him. Desperate for more. I’ve never been one to explore too broadly with my sexuality, having been preoccupied with merely surviving, but Omen’s ropey, knotty cock feels better than any toy, or any man for that matter, that I’ve ever experimented with.
My hands stray to my breasts, and I rub my palms over my pert nipples. They feel alive with fire, as if charged with electricity, sensitive to even the most fleeting of touches. Adjusting myself on Omen’s nest, I raise myself up on my elbows so that I can watch in erotic-fueled awe as the third delicious knot presses into my pussy. I bite down hard on my lip, accidentally drawing blood as it disappears inside of me. “Oh, God, yes,” I whimper.
“Do you like my moth-cock, pretty? Do you think you can take it all? All seven of my knots?”
I don’t know if I can, only God knows. But I sure as hell want to try. “Yes,” I breathe, my gaze plaintive. “I want them all. It feelssogood.”
Omen pushes my legs together, and forward so that I’m forced onto the flat of my back once more. They press against me, folding me in half, and in one breathless moment another knot stretches and fills me.
My cunt locks down around him and I mewl at the incredible pressure inside of me.
“Count for me, my mate,” croons Omen. “I want to hear you.”
“Four,” I gasp, my breathing heavy.
“You’re juicy as fuck,” he groans. “The last three are going to slide in so easily. And then, I’m going to fuck you—hard.” His gorgeous, midnight-black form tenses as he presses forward.
“Five.” I rake my fingers through my long ginger hair, grasping at fistfuls as I’m stretched again. “Six.” One after the other his knots are buried inside my greedy cunt.Oh God.I feel indescribably full. I don’t know if I can take any more. The last knot might be what breaks me. But there’s no time to wonder on the fortitude of my pussy.
Omen hisses as the final knot is enveloped by my flesh.
“Seven!” I cry out, mortified and proud in equal measure.
“How does it feel to be the first woman to willingly take my monster cock, mate?”
Locked around him like a bitch in heat, my body shudders with the exertion of containing him. “First?” I whisper.
Omen grins and it sends a shiver through my soul. “All have chosen to face my furry friend, rather than be joined with me.”
My mind boggles. Omen might be the Mothman, an ancient cryptid monstrosity of the paranormal world, but there’s no denying that he is mouthwateringly hot in a beastly and sinfully taboo way. How could anyone choose death at the dreadful maw and sinister claws of a bear, over being filled with his epic fucking knotted cock?Those women must have been lunatics, I reason, all thoughts of photography and New Orleans long forgotten.
“And now, I’m going to ruin you for mankind,” says my strange and terrifying Mothman. “I’m going to fill you with my eggs, and you will be a mother of monsters—beautiful, frightful, and strong little cryptids who will make the wild forests of America their homes.”
Chapter Six
Just when I don’t think any of this can get weirder or more extreme, Omen scoops me up, still buried to the hilt.
