Dear Stranger
Dear stranger,
Shortly after receiving the package you sent, I passed out cold, had an insanely vivid dream, and things have not been quite the same since. It’s about time I reached out, even if it’s to the entire world, in the hopes that my letter will find you.
This unassuming, brown envelope arrived about a month ago – on the 14th of February, to be exact. The delivery guy must have picked up on my surprise because he said, “Looks like you have a secret valentine.”
“Yeah,” I said, already feeling the brain fog descending, “maybe.”
I don’t remember saying goodbye or even what his face looked like. I only remember the envelope in my hands, and a strange symbol drawn where you’d expect to find a return address. It didn’t look like anything, just a chaotic arrangement of lines intersecting and connecting like a knotted constellation.
The postage stamps were unfamiliar as well – a picture of a silver eel against a seaweed-green background, and the letters “EESTI” in the corner, capitalized in bright yellow. All it said on the front was, “for Morgan”, underscored with “xxx.”
A quick Google search revealed that the stamps were from Estonia.
I had no friends in Estonia, didn’t know anyone who had travelled there, and I hadn’t ordered anything. If it weren’t for my name and address on the courier form, I would have thought it was delivered to the wrong person.
Had I made a pen pal and forgotten about them? Had I ordered something online while in a fugue state? No. The only plausible answer I could come up with was that one of my clients might have been behind it.
Creepy.
I went through my friend list on LinkedIn, my emails, and even messages on social media. A few men stood out as probable culprits. I won’t be sharing their names, since this is going up online, but one of them, let’s call him “X”, had the audacity to ‘sweetheart’ me multiple times during our kick-off call. Then there was Y, whose emails consisted of thirty so-called follow-ups that became less and less about the project and more and more about my workout routines and what I was “craving” for dinner.
Ew.
I felt ill, dizzy. Every terrifying stalking incident I’d ever heard of began rushing through my head. Was the envelope laced with something? I stood up, perhaps because I wanted to call someone. The dream I had after blacking out stayed with me for days. But I’m not ready to talk about it. It wasn’t exactly a dream, and parts of it are much too intense, intimate, private... I will, however, tell you about the dream I had after following the ritual.
Yes, curiosity got the better of me at last. Donning my rubber kitchen gloves, a surgical mask, and a pair of my old glasses (just in case), I held the envelope with the top facing away from me as I cut it open.
I’ll hand it to you – a beautifully illustrated and handwritten manuscript was the last thing I expected. “Astral Worship of the Cosmic Lotus,” it said on the cover. I found the postcard next, and for a while, studied the beautiful photograph of a cathedral in the heart of a snowy winter before reading the message on the other side:
When I received this gift, the first person I thought of was you. I know you’ll appreciate it the way I do.
No name, no nickname, nothing…
I thought about posting scans of the manuscript online and asking if anyone would come forward or provide insight into what a “Cosmic Lotus” was. But you might be happy to know I decided against it. Part of me thought that doing so would be in poor taste, disrespectful.
Maybe it was the fact that you had taken the time to carefully craft the entire document by hand, complete with illustrations. I had the notion that it was for my eyes only, and that it was sacred in some way. For this reason, I won’t be sharing too many details of the ritual itself. Not yet, anyway.
I’m sitting with the postcard in front of me as I’m writing this and can’t help but smile at the irony, or inappropriateness, of the cathedral. Because it is a holy, godly place - and after following the ritual and experiencing what I did this morning, I can confirm there is nothing godly nor Christian about “astral-worshipping” the Cosmic Lotus.
At around 3:45 am, I had drifted back to sleep without effort, and when my eyes opened again, it was beneath the starriest sky I had ever seen. I gazed in awe at the glittering lights and wondered if the dazzling pink-purplish spray might have been the Milky Way. I was in a forest, and I was naked.
An abrupt sloshing sound startled me, like a fish splashing in and out of a pond some distance behind me. I dug my elbows into the soft grass and pressed myself up. A thin veil of mist reflected the brilliant sky above and appeared to emanate from a singular source. I knew, without thinking about it, that I had to follow the mist. Crawling on all fours, I made my way to where it was thickest.
It wafted warmly around me and obscured my view so much that I couldn’t see my hands before my face. It was a complete surprise when my hand came to rest on the raised edge of a pond. It wasn’t mist after all; it was steam. As if by my will, the steam cleared out enough for me to see the last few ripples of the sloshing thing smoothing out, leaving a perfectly round, black mirror that held the stars captive, so clear was the reflection.
The raised edge of the pond was warm. I carefully dipped the tips of my fingers in the water and felt the comforting warmth of a hot bath. Small pebbles and moist soil gently grazed my nipples as I bent over the crater. Though the sensation was arousing, fear of what lurked beneath the water’s surface gripped me - and I had not yet realized that I was dreaming.
Despite my fear, I leaned in for a closer look, only to find myself suddenly petrified, transfixed by the appearance of a slimy, black root (or vine, or something) as it came slithering out of the water, up and over the edge, and slowly coiling itself around my wrist!
Frozen in terror, I watched the thing crawl up towards my armpit while another one slithered out towards my other hand. My entire body was pulsing with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The hold of the vines was firm but gentle, even as they wrapped down and around my breasts, squeezing them firmly till they resembled lumps of dough to be pinched off.
My nipples quickly began to surge and tingle with acute sensitivity, and every brush against the ground below sent shockwaves through my body. When I looked down, I saw that the tips of these vines were patting at them like the cold feelers of some giant insect. The sight of it made me feel it. And this feeling, in turn, sparked another between my legs. It made me aware of how empty I was, how desperately I needed to be filled up.
At this point, the vines had dragged my arms out from under me, and my bare ass was sticking up in the air like an open invitation. The thought made me glance around, but I could not turn my head or see through the hair that hung messily over my face. The anticipation of what could turn up from behind momentarily distracted me from what was in front; the water was now five inches away from my face.
My silhouette blocked the stars above and revealed how dark the water was. For a moment, I was lost in my reflection, trying to discern my eyes in the murky shape. At that moment, something the color of pink flesh gradually rose to the surface, it was spread out like an otherworldly starfish or carrion flower.
My breathing turned shallow and rapid, and I recoiled for a moment but was held in place by the vines. In response to my resistance, they wriggled in their grips, massaging my arms and breasts as if to soothe and pacify me.
A heightened sensitivity washed over my groin as the tips caressed my engorged nipples again. The beating of my heart in my ears became almost deafening as the strange flowerhead stopped rising and lingered unmoving below the surface.
I’m about to be attacked by a fucking face-hugger, I thought.
The only way I could calm myself was by trusting that the vines were attached to the flowerhead and that, because they had been gentle with me, so would the flower.
I studied its anatomy as best I could through the cloudy water; it seemed to consist mainly of five large petals that were arranged in a perfectly symmetrical star shape. Their meaty, reddish appearance, combined with the clear sentience the creature showed, stirred the idea that the lotus was more animal than plant.
Where these fleshy petals converged at the center, it was all black. So, either it had a black pistil or a gaping mouth tunneling deep down into a stomach where my head could eventually end up.
As I stared, spellbound, at the dark center, I noticed something stirring there. It looked like another vine, but smoother and rounded at the top. It was growing, rising towards my face.
My pelvic muscles suddenly tightened, and my hips began to thrust on instinct. My mouth had been open a while as I’d been panting, and I licked my lips before pressing them together and forcing the harsh, nervous breaths through my nose.
I knew where this was going. The anticipation made me lubricate so much that I could feel it trickling down my thighs. I’d never been so wet before. Still, I was afraid to open my mouth, even as the tip reached my lips.
I was also curious to see what it would do if I didn’t just let it in. The slimy, wet tip brushed up and down over my lips, and I could feel an indentation, like a urethral opening, as it tickled me.
When I didn’t part my lips, it slid over my mouth, nose, and forehead. A strong desire arose in me to have the entire length of it down my throat, as far as it could go. It paused and slowly slid downwards again, leaving a slimy trail across my face and shrinking slowly back into the water.
No! I want it! I want it!
I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip just in time. Slivers of slime were brought back up into my mouth. I can only describe the taste as … natural—how I assume tree bark, peat, or moss would taste, but sweet. Good for my health. I liked it. And my body wanted more of it. When it reached my lips again, I parted them slightly so the head was suctioned between them.
If only someone or something would come and fuck me from behind!
The whole thing quivered with delight and rubbed its head rather forcefully against my lips. The vines around my upper body tightened and pulled me down further. My tits pressed against the ground and folded over the vines around them.
I slipped my tongue through and teased by flicking it over the supposed urethra. Again, it quivered with pure ecstasy. Finally, I opened my mouth wide and let it slither inside, feeling its extraordinary length and girth fill my mouth, then my throat… all the way down to my stomach!
The haze of the dream state made everything possible; I lingered on the verge of choking but never choked. I gagged but didn’t spew. Air found its way into my lungs even though this massive, monster cock was blocking my airways.
It wriggled, twirling in my stomach as if to let me know how deep it was. It pulled out and pushed back in slowly, like it was warming me up before swelling to an even thicker girth.
My eyes rolled back and rested half-closed. I had no control over my face at all while my throat constricted around the shaft thrusting deep inside me, faster and faster. My hips pushed and squirmed desperately in an attempt to signal someone, something, another vine, anything, to fill me up from behind. But nothing came.
My elbows dug into the ground, and my tits pressed hard against it. I quickly became aware of the vine tips squeezing my nipples and attempted a moan through my blocked mouth. I found I was unable to move my jaw at all, which further intensified the pure ecstasy that I was caught in.
Just as I began to feel sore and tired, the thrusting slowed, and the shaft started quivering. I felt a swelling press against my lips and force its way through, pushing out against every part of me towards the tip, where it shot out and hosed my stomach with a giant load of … cum?
The shaft trembled, and I could feel the head gyrate as it slowly pulled out, cumming all the way and sending excess ejaculation spurting out the corners of my mouth and through my nose.
It paused when the head reached my mouth and kept it there, still whirling around, until it completely emptied itself into me. I swallowed as much as possible and let the rest gush from my mouth and nose. I only began to choke once it pulled out entirely and delivered one final squirt to shower my face. I coughed and heaved, smiling and laughing through it all.
What a mess! But the event left me feeling nourished and whole. My eyes were coated in thick cum, leaving me unable to open them until I was back in my ritual bed with a wet halo around my ass. Thinking I’d peed, I turned on the night light to make sure. I was happy to find that I’d merely squirted all over myself.
Too tired to change the sheets then, I snuggled into my regular bed and lay awake for a few more minutes with my hands folded over my tummy. At this time in the morning, I’d typically hear it growling already, impatient for breakfast. But not today.
I didn’t get any work done, being bombarded with memories of the dream. It wouldn’t leave me until I wrote it down, as if it wanted to exist in this world.
Well, now it does.
Since then, I must have washed the dishes, swept the floor, and organized the chairdrobe in my bedroom, but I don’t recall a second of it. All I remember is the new fantasy that has been writing itself; me, back in my starry forest, sitting down with my ass facing the round pond, watching the black vines slither up my legs this time …
How long would it have taken this package to reach me? If I can figure that out, I can trace my steps backward from there, recalling every person I met in that time frame. It shouldn’t be too difficult.
In the meantime, if this message finds you, Stranger, I hope you will reach out and answer all the questions I have. Tell me who you are, where you found this ritual, and what the Cosmic Lotus is.
But, most of all, tell me why I was so ready to trust you with my mind. Tell me why, after everything, I remain confident in my decision to let you in. And why am I so eager to perform the ritual again, and again, and again?
Yours,
Morgan
