An Ovipositor Wasn’t the Weirdest Part

Ever heard the one about how aliens say hello?

With a friendly probe and a cheeky wink…

There are two kinds of people who believe in aliens:

those who’ve never met one and can safely enjoy the jokes, the campfire stories, the late-night documentaries, and the Hollywood horrors… and then there are those who have.

The second group never comes back the same. Because once belief turns into experience, it rarely arrives gently.

When people tell their abduction stories, it’s usually with fear etched into every word. High drama. Heavy emotion. A warning wrapped in shaky breaths and sweaty palms. Trauma, framed as a public service announcement: Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Occasionally, you’ll find the super-fans too—the ones who collect merch, wear costumes, and somehow make extraterrestrials their entire personality. But mostly? It’s the fear. The seriousness. The insistence that this was something done to them.

And then…

there’s me.

~

The beginning of my abduction story starts with a cliché so embarrassing it almost hurts to admit:

I met him one night…. at a bar.

He saved me from a drunk who’d cornered me in a back storage room and thought “no” was a negotiation. Eamon intervened without hesitation—calm, controlled, and suddenly between me and real danger. Afterward, he sat with me in a booth, ordered food to help comfort me, and stayed close while my hands stopped shaking.

I thought he was human. Handsome, attentive, the kind of man who stepped in without posturing and stayed without being asked.

That kind of decency felt rare.

The longer we talked, the easier it felt to laugh with him. To lean in and relax. What started as gratitude then turned into connection, and then into something warmer, heavier, charged. We didn’t just get along. We had chemistry. Loads of it.

So yes… I went home with him.

Don’t judge me.

We were on his couch, kissing slow, deep, as if a magnet pulled us more and more into one another. Everything felt right. Until he stopped. Pulled back. Took a breath like he was bracing himself.

And then he said the one thing I never saw coming…

He wasn’t human.

“Consent can only exist when honesty and trust are present,” he told me. Not as a line, but as an offering.

I blinked, trying to decide whether I’d finally snapped—or if he had. And then he peeled off the human skin he’d been wearing like a tailored suit.

My breath left my body and my eyes… bugged.

Wine-red skin. Mottled. Sculpted in a way that felt deliberate—powerful, sexy as sin. An alien fantasy made flesh, unmistakable and obscene. And oh my fucking Lillith of the Garden, his cock… my mouth watered before my brain could catch up.

Hot, undeniably so. Otherworldly, abso-fucking-lutely. Did it scare me? Yes, but it did other things too... delicious things.

My heart raced. Part of me wanted to laugh at how impossible this was. Another part, the one that surprised me the most, wanted to keep looking. Long. Thick. Ribbed. Veined, and with a wide opening at the tip, and—I shit you knot—a set of heavy, perfect balls placed exactly where I crave to feel them pressed deep inside me and stretching me oh so wide. He had a cock much like one of those Alphas from the omegaverse books I like so much.

He was sex on a stick, rewritten by another species.

A Pentarian, from the planet Penta Prime, wherever that was.

And the penthouse apartment he’d brought me to?

A disguised alien ship, docked on the roof of an ordinary building. I froze. Of course a normal penthouse wouldn’t look like this.

He offered to give me a tour. To answer questions. To tell me about his people, his world, himself.

But I only cared about one thing.

“What is it exactly that you want from me, Eamon?”

“Your body, Cidda. Just for tonight,” he said gently. “My planet suffered a pandemic, and from that pandemic a mutation surfaced and rendered our females unable to reproduce with us.”

“They’ve become barren,” I said slowly, “and now you want to impregnate me?”

“No. They can no longer fertilize our eggs, but they can still breed with other species. As for you, impregnation isn’t required. I want to mate with you until your body provides what my eggs need. Then I’ll place them in a gestation chamber.”

He held my hands, lending me strength and calm.

“You have my word,” he added, “your body will not be harmed. Only pleased beyond anything you’ve ever known, if you give consent.”

“So,” I said, needing to hear it out loud, “you want to lay eggs in me.”

“Only for tonight. Long enough for you to fertilize them.” He paused. “And I will compensate you. Twenty thousand Earth dollars for helping me become a father.”

Twenty thousand dollars would change everything. The bar my best friend and I dream of opening, for one. A future we’ve been talking about for a long while now.

He’s promising no harm, and offering a lot of pleasure. The thought of my helping someone who had protected me, comforted me, and stayed honest—even when things got really weird.I knew I felt something warm and fuzzy toward this alien when I thought him a gentleman, now after he has revealed himself those feelings are even warmer, so the answer felt easy.

“Okay,” I said, my pulse skittering with nerves and excitement. “Eamon. I consent.”

It was the strangest, most surreal agreement I’d ever made. An agreement I would never be able to tell anyone about for fear of being put in an asylum.

And yet… I embraced it fully.

~

“You know,” the clerk says, turning the box over in her hands the moment I place it down between us at the cash wrap, “you’re the first customer to buy one of these. I wasn’t even sure anyone would. And I’m not totally sure how it works.”

“Oh… this one has a pump,” I say, a little too quickly. “You lube the inside, plug it, add the eggs, and squeeze. The pressure pushes them up and out.” I offer an awkward smile. “In case anyone else asks.”

She blinks. “So… what’s the appeal, exactly? What’s the main selling point of a dildo like this?”

“The pressure of it,” I explain, lifting the toy and pointing out each section as I talk. “The buildup of the eggs moving through the chamber feels good on its own. And then, at the end, when they release while it’s still deep inside?” I shrug lightly. “That extra sensation can push someone right over the edge.”

Her eyebrows lift.

“And,” I add, quieter now, “it’s more taboo than most toys.”

“Oh.” She considers that. “Yeah… I guess that does sound stimulating.” Then, casually, “Have you ever tried it?”

The world tilts at that question…

~

Suddenly I’m not standing under fluorescent lights waiting for my total at the cash-wrap. Instead, I’m back on that couch with Eamon’s hands gripping my hips as he pounds into me, hard and deliberate. His low grunts mixing with my breathless moans and the slick sound of skin on skin filling the space between us. Sweat clung to both of us as his thick, dark red alien body pressed into my softer, paler one.

I remember watching the muscles in his arms and chest flex with every thrust into my curvy body. The way his gaze locked onto my heavy breasts the moment he made them bounce, as if fascinated, almost gluttonous towards them.

His hands splay wide as he grabs me—and that’s when I notice them.

Another set of arms.

Somewhere between him removing his human skin, explaining everything to earn my consent, and us tumbling headlong into each other’s pleasure, I hadn’t registered it before. He has four arms. Each hand has three fingers and a thumb, shaped just differently enough to feel foreign, and perfect.

And gods, the way more hands feel on my body.

At first, he’s slow. Gentle. Almost reverent. His touch is careful and respectful—at odds with a body that looks downright sinful. Devil-like in the way only something not of this world can be. He even has the pointed tail you’d expect from the image, the kind that should come with danger instead of patience.

And his cock—on its own, it’s a fetish. I’ve seen ovipositors pop up on my screen before, even considered them with idle curiosity while browsing additions for my ever-growing dildo collection. But this? This isn’t a replica or a fantasy made in silicone. This is the original—the living form those toys must be modeled after.

Only this one is real.

And it moves. Freely. Bending and writhing slightly on its own, wild and alive. When I wrap my hand around it, I can feel something shifting inside. Something waiting.

“This is where the eggs come out,” he tells me softly, and knowing of the dildo versions I had guessed as much already.

I lean in. Kiss the tip. Then lick it, tracing the hole at the top and dipping my tongue inside it too.

And then I keep going—giving head to an alien cock that lays large eggs.

It’s different. I’m a devoted cock worshipper; I crave it, adore it, and know how to please it, but I’m used to human cock. For a moment, I’m not sure how I’ll feel about this. But as my grip tightens, as I stroke and work my lips along him, and as I taste and devour, I realize I don’t like it at all,

I love it.

It’ll take practice, sure, learning how to worship and please his alien dick with my very human mouth—but I’m more than willing to put in the time and effort.

And I dare say, he responds as if he enjoys every touch I give. Two of his hands slip into my hair, gripping tight as his hips begin to move, guiding himself deeper into my mouth. His other hands caress my breasts, and that’s when I feel the tiny suction cups at his fingertips. They pluck and tease my nipples in ways no human ever could, pulling until I leak from the intensity. He moves up greedily, lapping at my breasts, drinking what he draws from me like it’s something sacred.

Then he shows me something else.

He flips me onto my back, crawls up my body, and spreads my legs wide. When Eamon lowers his mouth to me, I gasp.

His tongue is long. Thick. Strong and slitted. It curls and swipes, dives and laps. The pressure he applies makes my toes curl. I like when a man gets rough with my pussy—and Eamon seems to know exactly how to do it.

Still—none of it compares to when he finally fills me.

He goes slow, letting my body stretch around him, giving me time to open and accept his girth. It’s almost too much. Almost too painful.

But once he’s part ways inside me, just an inch or two, the ache melts into a desperate need—to feel him thrust the rest of the way in, lavishing me in the pain it causes and the pleasure it gifts. There’s a slight wiggle as he pumps into me, a wiggle that has me gasping a whole new way. He’s able to ensure he hits the right spot on every thrust when he wiggles like that, and soon I’m wondering if sleeping with a human man will ever be the same again. I think Eamon is ruining me, and I like it.

The weight of him. The heat. The way my plush body responds without hesitation.

Everything about Eamon and the way he touches me makes my body quiver.

~

“Ma’am? That’ll be $52.76.”

The cashier’s voice snaps me back to the present. I hand over my card and finish the transaction, earning a slightly concerned look when she gives it back.

I take a deep breath, my cheeks feeling rosy hot, trying to clear the memories—but Eamon never fully leaves my thoughts.

He burned himself into my mind that night. The way he fucked me into a trembling puddle, then held me afterward, gentle and attentive, until I was steady enough to part ways with him… leaving him with the fertilized eggs and a promise fulfilled.

With the money he paid me, I opened a business account the very next day, adding my bestie as my partner. We met for lunch to talk locations, budgets, dreams—finally making the bar we’d always talked about feel real.

But on my way to that meeting, I passed this very sex shop and in the window? A sign.

Ovipositors, now 50% off. Buy yours today and know what it’s like to be filled by a beast.

I had to go inside.

I told myself it was just something to quiet the hunger Eamon had woken in me before he left. But by the time I got home after that lunch meeting, and unlocked the box strapped to the back of my e-bike where I kept my naughty little purchase, excitement buzzed through me.As I slip inside, lock the doors behind me, and boiled water to disinfect my new purchase, I then stripped down for a thorough test.

I eased myself onto its thick form, lube squelching as I slid it all the way in. A deep moan spills from me when it hits home. I love it deep—the pressure against my G-spot makes my hips roll on their own. It’s not the real thing, but it’s close. Close enough to make me wonder if someday I could find a partner who’d enjoy using one of these with me regularly. This is a fetish I never knew I needed but I so do.

Then, I start pumping.

The moment I squeeze the bulb, my breath leaves me in a sharp whine. My back arches, eyes rolling as sensation floods me. It’s different. Intense. And oh, so perfect.

I feel the pressure build, the eggs rising, making the shaft undulate and widen as they move upward—slow, deliberate. Then the first one shoots free, the weighted egg striking deep inside me.

I was right.

It pushes me straight into an orgasm.

My walls clamp down, sucking greedily as another egg releases, then another. I loaded it with five—each one forcing me to pull the toy back just enough to make room for pressure to build again and a new egg to release. Every release makes me curl inward, then arch back, craving more.

My orgasm feels like a dimmer switch—each egg turning the brightness up until I feel weightless, floating on a cloud of heat and need.

Where has this toy been all my life?

When I finally come down, easing the ovipositor from my slick, aching center, the eggs slip out one by one. Even that is obscene. Each release sends another rush of lust through me, and by the time the last one drops free, I’m reaching for my vibrator—coming again, and again, until I’m nothing but a shaking mess.

Spent. Soaked. But still so needy.

Lying there on my bed, covered in lube and my own juices, used eggs resting on the towel beneath me, something unexpected happens.

Eamon is suddenly there.

Standing over me, eyes dark with hunger—the same look he wore when he watched my breasts bounce beneath him that night.

Is he really here?

“I see you’re struggling with the same needs I am, little human,” he says, fingers dipping into my wetness before sliding into his mouth. He groans as he tastes me.

“Struggle?” It’s all I can manage.

He strokes over me once more, then asks, “May I?”

I nod.

He frees himself, already hard, and sinks into me in one smooth, claiming thrust. “Yes,” he murmurs. “This is where my cock belongs. Inside you. Just as your body belongs around me.”He fucks me hard—fast, desperate—like we might combust if we don’t finish together. When he orders me to cum, I do, squeezing him until we both shatter.

And afterward, he holds me, both of us breathing hard.

“We fit together like a nut to a bolt. I can’t let this go,” he says quietly. “Our bond is too strong. I feel we are fated for one another, so I’ve come back—for you.”

“I can’t leave my bestie,” I say. “We’re building a business together, we’ve dreamed of that for a long time.”

“What if they come with you?” he offers. “A new world. A new business. And on Penta Prime, your friend would have their pick of a mate.”

There is no hesitation. Most would, but not me. I didn’t need to think. Earth never felt like home—something my bestie and I had always known. There was only one answer.

“Deal.”