just for funsies: a cryptozoologist goes exploring forgotten corners of West Virginia on the quest of a lifetime: to fuck Mothman.
details: they/them, mothman isn’t insectoid but mostly remains a weird shadowy presence, results in hyperpregnancy
Cryptozoology wasn't exactly considered a reputable science for a lot of reasons, mostly relating to the overabundance of crackpots who called the field home as well as to their subjects' absurdly good talent of hiding from public view. Few people took creatures like Bigfoot or the chubacabra seriously, and fewer still had the gumption to go out and try to find them.
You, however, considered yourself someone willing to do nearly anything in the name of science. And since science, at least in this case, happened to align with some of your more niche sexual interests, it seemed only right to make the combination of the two your life's goal.
You wanted to find Mothman. And not only find them, but fuck them, too.
Like a lot of cryptids, Mothman's location and even appearance remained a matter of public debate, so it took you months to sort through witness accounts and nail down a location to scout. The quiet corner of West Virginia that you finally chose seemed far enough from civilization for you to be able to attract their attention while not being close enough to spook them, so you gathered some supplies, hopped in your car, and began the drive.
It was nearly nightfall when you finally arrived, which seemed the best option for a presumably nocturnal creature. You hiked a few miles into the woods with the light of the moon and your flashlight to lead the way, pleased at finding a small clearing that looked like it would fit your needs. With so little known about Mothman, you figured you'd try to attract them to you via one of nature's most traditional methods: pheromones.
Stripping off your clothes and laying down a blanket, you settled in to get to work. Not many scientists would likely admit to masturbating alone in the middle of a forest in order to attract a creature, but you felt like it was your simplest option. You let yourself drift into a steamy daydream while your fingers played your body like a well-tuned instrument, coaxing the embers of your arousal into a full-blown flame. Moaning, whimpering, you stroked yourself as your body writhed upon the blanket, not slowing down until an orgasm crashed over you in an intense wave.
The sound of your accompanying scream rang through the forest, and then everything went quiet.
Panting, you glanced around the tree line in search of your quarry. Would you manage to tempt them close, or would your impassioned cries frighten them away? You'd nearly resigned yourself to failure when your eyes caught the faintest glimpse of red among the trees-- glowing eyes, much like those Mothman was rumored to have.
Biting at your lip, you held out your arms in open welcome and waited.
Minutes passed. Not a sound crept through the clearing besides your breathing, the normal sounds of the woods having gone silent. The glowing red eyes never waivered, never moved, until finally--
Whoosh. There's a rush of air and Mothman was suddenly there, hovering over your prone body with their large, shadowy form. Even this close you couldn't see any details of their body, as if their very presence was cloaked in the void, but it's very obviously interested in what it could see of you. Round red eyes like bicycle reflectors fixed on you while their huge wings shifted and stirred behind them; with a wingspan easily over eight feet and a height that clearly dwarfed your own, the creature was a cryptozoologist's wet dream.
But you wanted more than self-gratification.
Your arms still outstretched, you slowly reached for Mothman, hoping to coax them closer. They seemed resistant at first, clearly unsure what to make of you, but the scent of your sex and your lack of fear finally appeared to win them over. Crouching over you, claw-tipped fingers scuttled over your skin and towards your legs as they bent down to sniff you, making a strange chittering sound that you hoped meant they were pleased.
"I want you," you whispered, spreading your knees and rocking your hips up in blatant invitation. "You don't need to hesitate. God, I want you to fuck me so bad."
Something brushed over you from below, a long, curved shaft nestling against your hole. Mothman's hips bucked in instinctive jerks, sliding their cock through the mess between your thighs and coating it in your slick, until they finally forced themself inside in one quick thrust.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't considerate like you might have expected from a human lover. But god did it feel good to be mounted and ridden like an animal by the creature of your dreams.
Thighs spread and hands tangled in the blanket for purchase, you took Mothman's cock with wild abandon right there in the middle of the glade. Nearly every thrust bumped over something inside of you that sent you spiraling over a new wave of pleasure. You wanted to clutch at the creature, to touch them or hold them or even grab their hips to make them take you harder, but their form never seemed quite corporeal despite the obvious girth working you open. All you could do was lay there and take it, over and over again, crying their name to the heavens--
Until the cryptid reared back, their vast, shadowy wings beating almost impossibly fast while an unnatural heat exploded inside you.
You groaned through your own orgasm, your eyes rolling back in your head. You barely noticed the way your belly rounded from the onslaught of Mothman's copious seed, too caught up in the throes of your lust to notice or care.
You'd done it: you'd just fulfilled your lifelong quest to fuck your favorite cryptid. You couldn't be happier.
That’s what you told yourself for the first few months after the event, anyway. It wasn't until your abdomen began to swell that you realized that Mothman had left you with an extra special gift, and that the young growing inside of you left you even happier. Not only had you fucked Mothman, but you'd gotten knocked up by them, too.
Sure, you were blowing up pretty fast, and if it kept up at this rate, it wouldn't be long until you were too big to waddle around. You were already too large to wrap your arms around your distended middle, and the massive globe of your pregnancy constantly shifted from the movements of your babies. And you couldn't exactly go to the doctor for an ultrasound with a cryptid's spawn in your belly, because who the hell knew what would show up on the scans. But you only had three more months to go.
You could manage three more months, right?
(A Spooky Season response.)