A sliver of liquid moonlight slipped through the clouds undetected. Like a glint on a distant rain-slicked rooftop, it was something even someone looking for it would scarcely take notice of.
Even if they had, light bent around the craft effortlessly. The night was utterly still, yet even so, it moved without a sound.
Nyxia had long since selected her destination. She had studied for quite some time prior to this assignment, remotely, before she had begun to observe directly. It was curious how their culture could be so obsessed with the idea of alien life, and yet so utterly hopeless at detecting it. They scarcely scanned a fraction of their immediate solar surroundings, and even then, their technology was laughably quaint.
Still, the planet held a certain charm to her. Their technology was less-developed, yet culturally they were vibrant, rich. Creative. Naively so, almost. Indeed, they often stared directly past what was right in front of them.
Nyxia chuckled, as that was precisely what was happening now. Her alien craft was floating a few dozen meters over a populated settlement – a town, precisely 14,392 humans inhabiting it permanently – and yet she knew that even if her ship were not invisible and silent, she would have gone unnoticed. Even if someone had seen her come in, the other humans would never believe them.
She shook her head slightly, pitying them. This would be far too easy.
Selecting a vast plot of thin reedy plants, a 'wheat field' she subconsciously filled in for herself as her long studies kicked in, she bid the craft come in to landing height.
An unseen wave of pressure descended below the craft which, even in the dim night, would have been all but impossible to spot to human eyes. The wheat below bent and bowed outwards as the craft sat upon a cushion of force, the air humming softly.
Making a few final checks, she had no desire to be careless. Doubting she would be seen even if she had hovered in that spot for entire cycles – 'days' – around their star, she still felt her training coaxing her to a professional level of expedience.
Her supplies, what few she felt she would need, she carried in a small case; it was designed to look of human design, yet which could just as easily be rendered as invisible as her ship. Within were multiple redundant systems for guiding her craft back to the surface, which she doubted she would ever need, as she had no intent of leaving any time soon. The case also housed a small replicator which would produce anything she needed given enough time.
She could easily subsist on Earth's sustenance, and for 'months' now had done so, consuming a purely human diet. There were a few dishes here or there which weren't to her taste, but overall it was quite agreeable. Very rustic, she mused. Her race, Gynaskians, had long since technologically ascended above most other petty worries which troubled humanity. Aside from that, Earth was perfectly well suited to her biology... in more ways than one. After all, Nyxia had not come here for their 'fine dining'. Although she certainly intended to dine upon something... Again, she chuckled.
She donned clothing which she had prepared specifically using Earth-grown fabrics, sourced during her last scouting mission. It was a serviceable outfit, a dark over-shirt, tight leggings. She may have looked out of place standing in the middle of a 'wheat field' dressed that way, and yet, due to the delightful quirks of human perception, she would look totally normal once she was walking along the 'road' towards the 'town'.
The words came naturally now she was mentally prepared. No longer replacing her thoughts, they were the words she wanted to say. The craft made a near silent hum, signalling its readiness to depart at her command. Having checked everything thrice, she admitted to herself with a smile that she was perhaps just a little anxious to step out onto the surface. This was the culmination of, she did the calculation in her head, '1.7 years' of work. Humans would say 'nearly two' Nyxia reminded herself, and grinned. She was ready.
A small gap appeared as the craft's hull parted organically, and it widened, further and further, until the bottom of the craft had entirely dematerialised. A gentle light beamed down now from the interior of the craft. The final step was to press a small device on her wrist, and it was the only one she regretted. Her Gynaskian skin would need to change tone. Green skin would, sadly, stand out among humanity.
A slight ripple moved along her arm, and in its wake her skin bled anew, the colour shifting from a healthy green to a thick, opaque olive tone. It felt only a little odd, as if something wet had been dried from her, but the skin was still damp. That took care of that.
As for her body, she had relished the realisation that no matter how absurd her body may seem to humanity, as long as she looked “human”, none would pay her a second glance. That was a lie. They would all be staring at her, she knew, but not because they suspected her true nature.
Technology could have changed her body as well, had she wished to. Indeed if she had wished she could have invested in the most advanced personal-scale cloaking technology and appeared physically however she would have liked. However, if she weren't willing to change her body physically, all it would take would be something trying to pass through seeming empty air and touching her invisible body for that to swiftly cause problems.
No, none of that would be necessary. Soon into her studies of Earth she had seen that. By their standards she would be one of the largest, most beautiful, most stunning 'women' they had ever seen – but only that. None would suspect her true identity... not until it was too late.
Certain she was prepared, she did not hesitate further. Stepping out onto the open air, she felt it thrum softly under her mass, and at a signal, it began to slowly lower her down. Silhouetted against the circle of light below, she felt herself make contact with the 'wheat'... the wheat.
The light disappeared as the craft acknowledged her signal. With a single puff of unseen force, an intricate pattern was inlaid into the crops, easily visible from space. Her own personal crest was left as a crop sign. Nyxia, the Gynaskian, had laid her claim here.
She wandered to the road and smiled into the night, her dark eyes on the lights of the town of Wesmare.
***
Nicky smiled. Life in Wesmare was... quaint. It was both simpler yet grander than she had expected when she moved here. It was a nice, quiet town where she could settle down. That's what she told people. She'd become very good at telling people what they wanted to hear, and it didn't hurt that most people felt quite intimidated to talk to her in the first place.
It was quite a change from her old life. Yet playing at being Nicky – Nicola Branch – a woman who had moved to Wesmare to relax and enjoy life, was in its own way quite rewarding. It felt as if she had created someone who hadn't existed before – not quite as if she was her.
Nicky was sitting in the park, in a white sundress that flowed down all seven and a half feet of her body, and a wide-brimmed hat that shaded her almost as much as her jet-black hair. It was warm enough to enjoy the sun for a while, but autumn was approaching. Soon she would have to head home, to a small farm house she had bought for... sentimental reasons. When asked, she said it felt “closer to home” there.
A small part of her grinned at how well she had adapted to life in Wesmare. However, that wasn't what made her smile.
Across the street, past the cars, past the mother walking her daughter home from school, a wide window let the sun spill into a coffee shop, where a young man smiled and greeted a customer. She had plans to put into motion, but she had time. Time enough to sit here and enjoy the sun... and the view.
***
“You're such a nice young man,” Mrs Lily said, and put a hand on top of his as he rang through the older woman's order and took her money.
“Thank you, ma'am.” He grinned, “I'll take your order right over.”
She patted his hand and walked to her seat.
Mixing the coffee slowly, Mark smiled into the sun pouring in as the day wore on. The counter shone and he embraced the warmth. Shielding his eyes for a moment, he looked outside as the machine worked.
The bubbling steam became the backdrop as his eyes wandered. Things were never too busy, and that was why he liked it there. It wasn't an easy job by any means, but not as hectic or mind-numbing as stacking shelves had been. Birds had begun to nest in one of the trees in the park, and their calls when the door was open were a nice backdrop to the pleasant music his manager liked to play.
Cars passed slowly, and-
It was her. She was back again. Sitting in the park.
Mark blinked into the sun, but he was sure. It was the woman who had moved to town years ago... in January, or February... Miss Branch.
She was hard to miss, easily the largest woman he'd ever seen. Occasionally he wondered if she would make it into the Guinness Book of World Records, or something like that. No, she wasn't quite that big. Just... really tall.
The town seemed to have gotten used to her. Wesmare was a nice place like that. He, however, couldn't help himself. She was simply... unbelievable. Something about her just stood out. Not just her size...
Mark tried, as he often did, not to stare. It didn't work though. He always found himself looking her way, as if his brain was trying to resolve something it couldn't rationalise. Or maybe he just liked looking at her. Something about her was just so... nice... to stare at. Try as he might, he couldn't just look away... which was made all the harder when he could swear she was always watching him.
He often found his thoughts coming back to her, too. Especially when he was... alone.
Miss Branch always seemed, well, there. If he went somewhere, somehow, eventually, she always turned up. Paranoid delusions aside, however, he couldn't help shake the feeling. It was a small town, sure, but... was... was she watching him now? Those eyes... those yellow eyes...
A fizzing from behind him knocked him out of his stupor. He shook his head a little, realising that he had, in fact, been staring at her again. The coffee was done. He mixed it a little, and sprinkled a pattern atop it. A smiling cat.
“Oh how cute!” Mrs Lily noted, and took it with a smile.
Mark's mouth twisted in a grin, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Lost in yellow eyes.
***
Nicky smiled wider.
She always did when she had him in her sights, and especially when he knew she was there. He didn't always, although he was much more perceptive than the rest of his kind. Even at her size she slipped among them so easily. They were quite naïve. So eager to be told everything was alright, like a soothing hand caressing their worries away.
They'd get just that and more, soon enough.
Him, though... Mark. Mark Estin. Twenty five years old. He had tried his hand at multiple things and yet didn't seem to fit into his community.
She clenched her thighs. He would fit in perfectly somewhere else, and she would fit too... eventually.
He wasn't like the others. It was a bit amusing, a bit surprising. Nicky wondered if it was a genetic quirk, or perhaps just a psychological outlier. He didn't just smile at her like everyone else did. No, he saw something else, even if he didn't know what it was.
Nicky bit her lip again. She couldn't wait. Soon she would show him everything and more.
Her eyes narrowed as her senses picked out an unwelcome sight. A girl... Susan. 'Suzie'. She had been coming to the coffee shop Mark worked at more often lately.
From the slight spring in her step, Nicky felt something drip coldly within her as she watched the girl enter.
***
Mark looked up from the coffee machine he was cleaning and barely managed to avoid dropping the sponge.
“Hi Mark!” Suzie said in a bubbly tone, and leaned on the counter.
“Oh, hi.” He said, and tried his very best to appear less excited than he was.
“Hows your day going?” She asked, and trailed a finger along the counter as if inspecting it for dust – before looking up at him with a smile.
“Good,” he laughed, and blushed a little.
“Could I have-”
“Double shot, single milk, sugar.” He said, forgetting to pretend he didn't have her order memorised. “To go?”
Suzie just nodded, and waited at the counter.
He wrote what she wanted on the cup regardless, and then added her name.
“So...” he managed, awkwardly, after prepping her drink.
“So,” she parroted, eyes on him.
Mark opened his mouth to speak, but once again found himself unable to get the words out. He'd practised them in the mirror just that morning. So easy, and yet something made them so difficult to get out.
“Suzie, w...” he managed, speaking more to the empty shop than her, before the door tinkled as the bell rang.
He bit back his words, hoping whoever it was would leave before Suzie had to.
When he turned back, however, coffee in hand... Miss Branch was looming over Suzie, standing right behind her.
Suzie seemed a little confused at Mark's face, until she looked slightly to the side and saw something massive had managed to move behind her silently.
“Miss Branch!” Suzie turned and, maybe a little nervously, waved – albeit at such close distance the gesture seemed almost defensive.
“Hi.” Miss Branch said quietly.
“Ca-cah-” Mark asked, as he fought desperately to keep his eyes on Suzie... but couldn't help himself.
Even if it wasn't his job, he knew he could never have ignored her for long.
“Can – I... What can I get you, Miss branch?”
Mark felt himself relaxing, suddenly, as if a wave of relief came over him from nowhere. Miss Branch had... distracted him from Suzie, he supposed. That must be it. It would give him time to think about it a little more... Think it over...
As he stared up into her yellow eyes, he suddenly found it a bit hard to remember what he'd been thinking about.
“Just some water, thank you. Isn't it hot today?” Miss Branch asked, but didn't seem to expect an answer.
“Yeah, it is,” Suzie offered, and turned back to Mark with a quizzical look.
It took all of his effort, but he managed to pull his gaze back from those depthless yellow orbs, and Suzie seemed to purse her lips at him, hard to read.
Wincing, he placed her coffee next to his pen on the counter, and reached down for a bottle of water.
“Thank you... Mark.” Miss Branch said and, incredibly, plucked the bottle from his hand before he even rose.
He looked up to see her massive body bent over the counter, and her breasts mere inches from his face... before she pulled back, and unscrewed the bottle.
In one gulp, she swallowed half the contents, and in another emptied it, and crushed the plastic in her hand.
“Here you are, sweetie. Keep the tip.” Miss Branch left a note on the counter and turned to leave... her eyes lingered on him but, for a moment, seemed to flash at Suzie. For her part, Suzie seemed almost as taken aback as he was, although maybe a bit less frazzled.
“After you, dear,” the massive woman indicated, holding the door open for Suzie.
“I'll... see you later Mark.” She said, giving him a quick smile.
Sighing defeatedly, he fell back into his chair, looking out ruefully at the empty cafe.
He'd been so close to... Oh. Suzie had left her cup. As he went to reach for it, he saw that under her name was a number. Her phone number.
Mark felt his heart skip a beat.
***
He couldn't believe it. The way she wrote her number like that... he just smiled all the way home, and it was hard to keep the spring out of his step as he walked.
Coming to the crossing on Church Street, Mark waited at the lights as cars trundled by casually, as no one was ever really in that much of a rush. Occasionally he'd smile or wave to someone he recognized as they passed – which in such a small town was more often than not.
Then, for a moment, just a moment, he felt a brush. As if the air had become a finger and caressed his cheek.
He reached up instinctively and turned, even as his mind rationalised it. Still, every hair hair on his neck stood on end, as if the ancient reptilian part of his brain was simply unwilling to brush it off.
Mark ignored it, if only for a while, but as the lights stayed green and he stood there he couldn't shake the feeling...
He spun.
The street was empty. He'd been so sure... certain.
Turning back, looking down the other side of the street, there was... nothing. No one.
Shame sank into him like a difficult bite to swallow. He felt childish, convincing himself he was being watched... Jumping at shadows. Jumping at nothing. No one... He stared. There was nothing there. Yet his eyes... his mind... it was like they were trying to convince themselves, and him in turn, that there was something there. Like seeing shadows out of the corner of your eye on a dark night, when you haven't had enough sleep...
The crossing light flickered, about to change back to red, and he realised he'd been standing there while cars had been waiting. Embarrassment now mixed uneasily in his stomach with shame as he quickly marched across the road, waving apologetically to the cars he'd kept waiting.
***
He was different. She was sure of it by now. She had been for some time.
Nicky hadn't used her technology much since arriving. She stood there, light washing around her like a warm breeze, sliding around her considerable form with ease.
Even so, someone walked by, within a few feet of her. They didn't notice. She doubted that even if her cloak had been easier to spot if any of them would have noticed her there.
They didn't see because they didn't WANT to, she reminded herself, with a small grin. Humans had a remarkable knack for not seeing. They would find any excuse to rationalise things as anything that felt safe. It was comfortable for them. Cozy. Like a warm hand petting them, reassuring them. Just as she longed to do... to one, at least.
Even without her technology, her mind's powers, it would have been laughably easy to blend in here.
Not to him, though.
Markus Palmer.
He didn't just look through things... he looked at them. For a moment there, as she had stood so close, she thought he was looking right at her, even if that was impossible. Well, not impossible, but he wouldn't have seen anything. He couldn't see what his biology wasn't capable of, if not for lack of trying.
No, what made him different was that he looked at all. He kept looking. Even when his mind was telling him there was nothing there, some part of him warred against it. It had become something of an... obsession of hers. Why was he different? Why did only he out of thousands seem to...
'Curious.'
Not just curious, no, it was something more. Something deeper. In her mission notes that's all she wrote, however. A curious outlier, an oddity.
That was all she wrote, at least.
“Curious. No meaningful resistance anticipated.”
That part, at least, she was sure of.
***
Mark couldn't shake the feeling he had felt all the way home, until he closed the door of his apartment behind him and locked it. Even then, it lingered, albeit more mutely. Somehow, the natural background anxiety that your empty apartment might not be empty was a little stronger than usual.
Still, he did relax eventually. Thoughts turned from phantom stalkers to the phone number on the cup he had taken home with him and planned to never let out of his sight.
Should he call her now?
Teenage anxiety about the unwritten rules of 'too soon' and 'looking too eager' ran wild in his head, and he couldn't shake a strange sense of childish shame.
He was an adult. So was she! In a sense, at least. Adulthood started in your twenties, right? He should be able to call her when he was free, at a reasonable hour, with no judgement.
That lasted all of a second or two before uncertainty clawed away at any confidence in that notion from the inside.
Sitting on the sofa in his living room, Mark flicked through his phone, rather than think about it. He scrolled social media. He looked at conversations he couldn't care less about between people he barely knew. What should he do with his evening? He couldn't just do nothing, just because he was too nervous to call her.
The natural conclusion his lower brain came to was the same solution most lower brains offered to difficult emotional issues: jerk off and you'll feel better.
He shrugged, mentally, as his upper brain replied to his lower one with "Well, it won't make me feel any worse."
There was always comfort to be found in that oldest of male pastimes, and indeed it often took very little justification. He had bookmarked a significant amount of material since his youth, although he found if he scrolled back further than a few years he would grimace in embarrassment at what he used to masturbate to.
Of course his tastes were much more refined now, just as his mind would say about his current tastes years from now. Grimace he did again now, as he went past a few particularly odd standouts from a phase he had.
Eventually he settled on his material of choice and set to work. Arousing himself took less time than usual, but he tried not to linger on why. A video became a few photos, and another clip, all being added to the palette of his sexual exploration.
Browsing online he saw video after video of generic filler. Nothing so bland ever appealed to him. 'Step brother fucks', 'Hot blonde fucks guy in'... His tastes had always strayed from the straight and narrow, but it didn't hurt to check now and then.
Scrolling, he froze as the page kept going, but he flicked back. He could have sworn... no. It was just a thumbnail of a rather... tall woman.
Unbidden, the image of Miss Branch flashed across his horny mind.
Mark scrunched his eyes, unsure why... no, he knew why. He doubted a single guy, or some girls he knew, in fact, had never had a single sexual thought about the woman.
He paused a while longer, before giving in. What the hell, after all. He played it.
A tall woman entered the bedroom, with the cameraman on the bed. Slowly, she began to undress, taking her sweet time, seeming to revel in her position over him...
Maybe that was just Mark filling in the gaps. Making more out of it than was intended. He'd grown used to adapting porn to his desires... this wasn't much of a leap.
Then, he swallowed, as the taller woman began to fit a bright, green strap-on to her waist, and relished feeling it push inside her... he wasn't exactly opposed to this development, but... suffice to say it wasn't an area he'd explored in any great detail. Why did he now feel so compelled to try it?
Now she loomed over the camera – talking softly. Mark, for his part, was very much getting into it.
Her eyes were fixed on the camera now... and they looked... so beautiful. Deep, yellow eyes...
Mark watched as Miss Branch leaned in closer, taking hold of his cock and blowing on it softly, as her body moved in closer. So large, but so gentle.
Idly, Mark felt his immersion deepening, as he stroked himself to the images on his phone. It seemed real enough for his purposes.
Miss Branch, Nicola Branch... Nicky... was slowly stroking her strap-on... pouring out a generous handful of lubricant. Her strap-on... no, her cock. No straps. Just... a long, thick green cock...
She leaned down, taking Mark's cock into her mouth now, swallowing rapaciously. Another flash, and he remembered the way she had emptied that bottle of water, which did nothing to calm his now raging libido.
Mark felt guilt creeping into the edges of his enjoyment, but it was quickly washed away. The woman in the video... no Miss Branch, was speaking to him.
“Just relax, let Mommy take care of everything...”
Why did that sound so nice? Letting Miss- Mommy... take care of everything...
Slowly now her hand gyrated on her green cock, flecks of abundant lubricant flying with each stroke.
“Mommy will take care of everything, you have nothing to worry about anymore...”
Slowly she aligned herself with him, on the bed, and he could feel her hands running reassuringly up his thighs... before parting them.
“Just let Mommy in... let Mommy in, my good boy...”
He felt that voice soothing within his mind, as if it were being whispered right into his ear... no, as if it came from within his mind itself.
Those yellow eyes... so deep, so beautiful. He wanted, no, he NEEDED to...
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the coffee cup on his kitchen table and felt a pang of regret. Miss Branch took his cheeks in her hands and turned him back to her.
“Don't worry... Mommy has you now... Mommy will take care of everything...”
He tried to look away from his phone, but it was difficult. He wanted to keep watching, no he needed to... look at her beautiful face... keep looking into her eyes... Mommy's deep yellow eyes... just listen to Mommy's voice...
Wincing with the effort it took, he slammed his phone to his chest and – with a groan – tugged his hand away from his weeping cock. What... had he been thinking? It was as if he'd just woken up and was trying to cling to the dream he'd just had like wisps of smoke dissipating. He had been so close to... what? Cumming? No... something else.
Tentatively, he ignored his throbbing cock, and lifted the phone screen, as if afraid of what he would see.
The woman from the video was normal. Still tall. A ripe green strap-on was poised inches from the cameraman, as if moments away from...
Why was he watching a video about a guy getting fucked with a strap-on? He'd never... well, it wasn't like he'd never thought about it, but...
Miss Branch. Why had he been thinking about her? He had the phone number of a beautiful girl he'd been wanting to see... no thanks to Miss Branch. The way she had barged in and interrupted them, it was like she'd been...
Mark cleaned himself up. It was a phone call, but he felt wrong calling her when he was still... mired in memories of Miss Branch.
He forced himself to be calm, and called her.
***
Nicky watched the lights change in the apartment window above. She didn't need to check to know what was happening. He was making the call.
He was strong. She had been so close to him, then.
No matter. It was just all the more reason to...
A tall figure, silhouetted in the night, she stalked away.
***