it’s Goblin Week, and while I’ve never participated before and probably won’t be able to make anything else on time, I at least satisfied the itch to produce even one thing this year. started with a shnoz like on a goblin shark and went from there.
Hey y'all! I'm making an exophilia/monsterfucking/monster love centric discord server.
At the moment, it is still very much under construction, but I'm looking for 3-4 moderators. Please dm me if you'd be interested in helping moderate and build up the server!
An alien desires to 'court' another alien, of the race called humans. The human is desirable in every way: talented in multiple skills, professional and domestic, with soft, squishy flesh and an eagerness to learn - the alien could go on and on, but people complain when the alien talks about their 'crush', as other humans call it
The problem is, the alien's species relies on scents and pheromones for communication. Their first meeting with the human was during a crisis, and their natural scent was strong, sweat mixing with that fabled human instinct to survive with all members of their extended pack alive, too. No other human smelled quite like this one. It sent the alien's hearts a-flutter, and shivers through their many wings.
But now? The human smells different, and not in a normal human way. One week, citrus and palm fruits from the black jungles of the planet Cerib. Another week, exotic vanilla from their origin planet, with something warm and spicy the alien can't place. Lavender and honey from Blackcurrant bees. Something juicy like apples. Something this, something that, and they're all beautiful scents - but it's not the human's scent, and they can't really smell their emotions through it. Frustrating.
One day, the alien sulks, watching their desired one rush past, tablet in hand. They smell like sweetened coffee and chocolate - the latter a romantic treat to humans, and a reminder of how far they are from that romance to the alien. The human next to them breathes in the scent, and smiles.
"Man, (name's) got some great perfume on today," they say.
The alien lifts their head. "Perfume?"
A little research later, and things suddenly make sense. They'd heard about perfume before, the human wasn't the only one to wear scents, but they'd been so lovelorn they hadn't used their brain. But that wasn't important. What mattered was that humans used perfume and similar products to draw in desired partners.
Two can play at that game.
Three days later, the alien walks in to their normal location. To their surprise, the human their hearts are set on rushes towards them, calling their name.
"I'm so sorry!" They apologize. They aren't wearing any scents today. "I didn't realize my perfume might be messing with your senses. I've switched it out with another type that you'll find easier to deal with. I was just trying to..."
They trail off. The alien waits, hopeful. A new scent spikes from the human.
"Is that... Cinnamon?"
"With a little bit of Ophelion flower, and Soljoiner lemon," the alien says, smiling like the humans do. "I got inspired by your choices."
A hesitation. "Do you like it?"
The human breathes in deep. From them, now the alien can sense what they've wanted. Interest.
"You smell amazing," the human says. The glow in their eyes as they look at the alien, well, the alien adds that to their list of all the reasons they want the human as a partner.
"Are you sure you know what you're getting into?" Another alien says later, at the communal garden. "Humans are hardcore."
The alien looks across the way to the human of their hearts. They are smiling, they smell a bit like the alien now, from their hug.
"For that one? It's worth it."
The best gift to buy for yourself is one of the small moisture-reliant tentacle monsters. They come in all shapes and sizes and more sub-species than you can think of. But what they all have in common is how quickly they learn. Once you've purchased your first jar, all you need to do is lock your room and set the monster loose.
It's not unpleasant to the touch - its surface is glossy and iridescent when it slowly moves over your hand, sucking gently and squeezing, learning your taste. At first it's similar to a heavy blob of warmth, the lumpy surface ever changing with half-hard little knobs that pepper it, constantly disappearing and resurfacing. But once it scented the excitement from you, the tentacles would swiftly expand and move the main body to the source of that sweetness.
It doesn't care about your clothes, it can squeeze right underneath them, straight to the whiff of wetness between your legs. The mass of tentacles would stretch whatever clothes you didn't take off on time, not caring about them one bit. You'd be surprised by the strength of the tentacles that pull your legs open and hold you still as the softer, smoother tentacles taste your folds for any moisture. Because the best feature about the moisture-reliant tentacle monsters is how far they'll go to get what they want.
A shudder goes through the main body when it finds what it's looking for. You feel it shiver and transform, the squishy surface hardening, the knobs popping up as the first poke of something thick and heavy finds your entrance.
It tastes your folds, pulling them apart, already wet and glistening, and then pushes further, stretching your entrance - the source of its nutrition. You can feel the knobs on its shaft and the short, impatient movements of the main tentacle when it's overwhelmed by how much more wet you become with each second. It stretches and pushes back and forth, quickly realizing that's how it gets more moisture out of you. It's deaf to the moans of your pleasure when more of the main body fits into yours, filling you to the verge of sweet pain. It doesn't notice your legs shaking in it's hold or the tension in your muscles. The tentacle arms holding you in place extend further, gripping you with all the strength of a starved monster. More arms cup your ass, some venture higher to your breasts, already covered in sweat.
Every thrust into you feels deeper than the last one, the knobs along its shaft hard and glossy. There's no end to it, no break in the pounding, twisting and curling of the iridescent flesh into yours. You are sweaty and exhausted and stretched so fully you doubt you'll ever close your legs again. The monster drinks your release, and then the next one, and only finishes feasting when your pulse drums in your ears so loud it's deafening and you can barely catch your breath. The monster is sated now, and slowly unravels from your throbbing hole.
The moisture is quickly absorbed through its surface, now a darker color. It moves slowly as it crawls over your body back to its jar.
I want to live in the woods with a monster so I don’t have to worry about having a job and paying bills.
And also so I can know the monster carnally.