The Lamb and the Shepherdess

The Lamb And The Shepherdess:

An Harmonic Convergence

"Human beings are "arrows shot out in time and space to catch the impossible."

- Peri Rossi

"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."

- Hebrews 13:2

Chapter One: The Hostess Body

1

An Excerpt From The Super Private Journal Of Charlotte Louise Hazelgrove:

I'm in an a session of achievement centered therapy and I've taken off my shoes and socks so I can suck my toes while I stare into the beautifully light catching big black eyes of my therapist, who happens to be the insectoid variety of extraterrestrial I'd really like to make, you know, contact with. Generally, as a closet exophiliac, I like to fantasize about the grays, the reptilians or the little greens, but it's the Mantodeans that really get my noonchie the juiciest. I mean, it's not that I have a problem getting wet because I can get really wet, very wet, very very very wet, like I need a dam of sandbags outside my bedroom door wet. So, actually, my excessive wetness is a problem, just one of my list of problems. Are you still reading?

Anyway, The Mantodeans are a race of insectoid beings that have evolved from simple mantid roots to become a prominent culture in the universe. Imagine a humanoid praying mantis. Sexy, huh? Yeah, you know it. They stand as tall as twelve feet, but I prefer mine at like eight. They have long, thin torsos. Their necks, arms and hands have two more sets of joints then we do. Their heads remain very much mantid in structure and appearance, triangular with large, slanted eyes of deep brown to black. The exo-skins of most Mantodeans are green, but they can also be dark brown and black. What I refer to as an exo-skin I guess can more accurately be described as a segmented exo-skeleton. It's just that I imagine that the Mantodeans's bone plating feels, of course, very smooth, and conforms snugly to their muscles and is just slightly giving like the clear form fit plastic wrapping around a brand-new toy.

As for my dream Mantodean's exo-skin, it is more a satiny lustered olive black. Stars, he's so hot. I mean, I think it's a he. I'm not sure yet. The Mantodeans don't present distinctly gendered and, honestly, I don't know how lucid this dream is going to be. Anyway, some abductees have reported that Mantodean exo-skin has an oily like coating, which I feel just a little OCD about, so I hope I can lucidly remove any ikkiness from the dream. Or maybe I'm already lucid dreaming because most abductees have seen Mantodeans wearing these like long flowing robes varying in color, which some suggest representing rank or something, and mine, well he or she is just naked. Personally, I don't buy it. I think the wearing of garments is more representative of a holy order or religious cult thing. That doesn't sound very progressive, I know, but I just don't think of any Mantodean as a political or military official.

So my great big sexy praying mantis, is sitting behind An enormous Black-stained solid oak desk. Obscured by only a few stainless steel items, a desk lamp with a half chrome bulb, two drink coasters, a USB hub, a universal charging station and a gleaming MacBook Pro. The desk compliments my mantid's magnitude in its pristine satin luster,

The Mantodean shines with its own subtle sheen, it's exo-skin forming tightly to it's miraculous and mysterious inner systems. He or she presides over the room, reclined comfortably in a great leather chair like a judge, it's implacable polished onyx eyes betraying nothing. The Mantodean's eminence is intoxicating. I'm hoping he or she (Yes, I'm getting tired of not knowing which too.) is enjoying my little self-indulgent foot fetish show.

I gaze at my lovely creature as I imagine that we are in his private chamber aboard his ship, the good ship, Achievement Centered Therapy. The ship happens to be at the very much protected center of the fleet. My Mandolean is not only a much sought after professional in the field of human psychology, but he is also the CEO of an intergalactic corporation, a being of great power, an ambassador, an emissary between worlds, a groundbreaker who exerts great influence and possesses great wealth because of it. It is then in the dream, as he or she watches me, motionless and in total silence, I feel shamed for tongue lapping my feet with such naked brazenness. So, I take my foot out of my mouth and reach to the opposite end of my therapy couch to my purse and withdraw a few wipes to remove the slick from my mouth and my toes.

I'm laying back on my couch now and I don't look at the mantid as I nervously ball up my wipes. Instead, I fix my gaze on my drying toes and proceed to twist up the wipes in knots. I remind myself of how the Mantodeans are the most mysterious and unsettling of all extraterrestrial species. They are from so beautifully far away, twenty million light years from Earth, from the Sombrero galaxy, which is a really stupid name, but it's how we on Earth refer to it because of the galaxy's general shape. Otherwise, the cluster of stars an planetary bodies that surround their very own black hole is referred to as Messier 104, Messier being the name of the first earther to see it.

The Mantodean race evolved hundreds of millions of years ago on a planet inhabited only by varieties of insect species. The first creatures in the cosmos to become self-aware, the mantids ultimately dominated the sub-species on their world, ending slavery and their credit economy in less than a century, though still subjugated the more grub or maggot like members of their planet because, after all, even the most technologically advanced and self-actualized among the universe's life forms have to eat something. Ultimately, through their very advanced unanimity of consciousness, they became collectively tuned to sound and light and their reflection in color, which was how they'd advanced so quickly in the science of interstellar travel.

I think about how beautifully and utterly incomprehensible that all is and I get goose bumps all over me. In my head, something occurs to me and, in my vaginal vault, I want even more for my mantid to fuck the shit out of me. This is where in the dream that I arrive at the understanding that just because the Mantodean is all super advanced and powerful doesn't mean it can't desire anything. It eats. It consumes flesh. That means it has to stop and take a shit just like every other carbon-based life form in the universe. I realized that power and extraterrestriality are just other versions of perfectly normal. I mean, one can't be extraterrestrial if one hasn't traveled to another's planet, right?

Then I wonder, did this Mantodean have a wife or a husband somewhere else on ship or somewhere on the home world. I thought, I could entice this creature, this exotically attractive intergalactic traveler. If we all consume, then we all feel desire. So, since this was my dream and the mantid was in it, I knew that it wanted me.

I raised my gaze back to the Mantodean. I felt the simple magnitude of my new understanding in my eyes and, even though it still didn't move or speak or anything at all, I knew that something knew was suddenly stirring in the creature's heart. I smiled seductively, noticed the waste basket along the left side of the big black desk, casually laid myself down on the couch I'd been sitting on , and then deftly tossed my warm damp wod of towelettes the twelve or so feet it took to land them in the basket.

Finally, the mantid moved. Reaching very fluidly toward the desk's center drawer, it pulled it open and withdrew a pen, which looked fairly small in its great hand. The Mantodean pressed the pen's tip to the desktop, and then proceeded to slide its fingers slowly down the pen's shaft, then flipped it from end to end to start the process again. I watched as the mantid repeated the pattern, twice, three times, four times, its big beautiful black eyes studying me, assessing me.

My smile gets broader and I think that I made my great big Mantodean nervous. I wonder if it's gotten a hard on or some other genital engorgement happening behind the desk. If anything, it was curious now. Now, it wanted me. Slowly I got to my feet, and then made my approach to the right side of the desk. Laughing with feigned coyness, I stop beside the desk, run a seductive finger along its side, fix my gaze on the mantid and say:

"You look like you know me, like very clinically. I don't recall being, probed by you. Have you abducted other Earth women?"

The Mantodean tilts his head slightly. I see my reflection in its eyes. I'm not wearing my official 1969 Apollo 11 astronaut gear, which I happen to look really sexy in. Instead, I was in my comfiest pair of jeans and my favorite burgundy sweater. I look at my face, which I happen to like alright. It is almond in shape. Draped along either side are long wavy tresses of thick dark brown hair. My eyes, dark, round and alert, betray the little girl I left behind, although she does appear now and again in one or another mirror. That's an allusion to problem number two by the way. Moving on, as for my physique, I look pretty hot for a woman who eats pet food and various other strange things that don't offend my nose or palette. I do pet food tasting for a living. No, the job isn't one of my problems. The pay's actually pretty good. You're still reading, right?

Anyway, I'm pretty thin, the shallows beneath my sternum and my hips are a little deep, but I'm still a bit plump in the parts of a self-respecting body conscious woman wants to keep plump. I look good. I feel good. I feel strong. I feel strong enough, in fact, that I just effortlessly push the great big oak desk aside so I can get a better look at my big bad Mantodean stud or... Wait, what do you call a girl stud? Ah, I just Googled it. Apparently, women can also be referred to as studs.

"Oh I see." This is your first time attempting to study the human female." I say while taking my mantis in from its divinely triangular head to its razor tipped toes.

The Mantodean puts its pen down, and then swivels his chair so that he is facing me. Its legs are open. I glance at its crotch. It's bulging alright, but I still can't tell if it's a boy or a girl.

"So then, you don't know what a human female's noonchie looks like." I state rather than ask.

The Mantodean eases back into its chair, and then leans the side of its head against its right palm. The change in posture, though disarmingly human, makes me suddenly nervous again because I realize the mantid is staring at my noonchie area. In the next instant, the Mac Book abruptly comes to life and, after Surry clears her throat, she says:

"Noonchie? Curious. Why not house, case, tie-corner-"

"What? No!" I exclaim, "Tie-corner? How? What-"

Tie-corner," the Mantodean explained with Surry's voice, "during the time of William Shakespeare, was a reputed corner in London for prostitution. Other euphemistic references to the human female genitals include Porridge, coffer, altar of Venus, Netherlands, placket-lace, nature's treasury, contra punctum, privy-counsel, lady's low, toupee, Petticoat Lane, venerable monosyllable, Mrs. Fubbs' parlor-"

Halfway through the list, I begin to chuckle, and then all out convulse with laughter.

"You find my inquiry humorous? Please explain."

"English speaking humans don't use those nick names anymore. Add the word contemporary to your search. Although, I think Mrs. Fubbs' parlor is really cute."

I watch myself still giggling a little in the Mantodean's eyes. Then it turns its head toward the Mac, stares for a few seconds while Safari whizzes open and a search is executed.

"Ah yes," says Surry as the Mantodean returns its gaze back to me, "I see. Then the contemporary euphemisms of convention are whisker biscuit, muff, Cunt, pussy, twat-"

"Stop." I ask.

Surry stops. I step closer to my mantis.

"Say pussy again."

"Pussy."

I smile.

"Again."

The Mantodean pauses, eyes me, its chest appearing to rise a bit higher than during its last breath, and says:

"Pussy?"

Now I'm really looking at it, into its beautiful black chrome eyes rather than at my reflection in them. I feel my smile leave my face. Then, after a few seconds pass, I say:

"I like how you say pussy."

The mantid nods ever so slightly and says:

"Thank you."

Then I say:

"Would you like me to show you my pussy?"

Again, though I can't tell from where it's drawing in the air ,the Mantodean takes a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out very slowly.

"I, would like that, yes."

I step closer to stand between the big mantid's legs and press my shins against the edge of its seat. I roll my sweater up for clear visual access, and then proceed to pop my button open. I then unzip the fly and the Mantodean sees that I'm not wearing any underwear. Watching it studying me, I slowly part the opening to reveal the symmetrical almond shaped buldge of my vulva and its just a tad overgrown coat of dark brown hair. I push my jeans down to around my thighs and the Mantodean lingers its stare at my mammalian genitals. I notice a slight humidity covering the inner surface of its eye casings. I then glance down at where I assume its sex should be and I observe that the Mantodean's buldge is just a little bulgier. This inspires me to turn around while pushing my jeans the rest of the way down so that my mantis can get a good look at my sweet little ass. Rising again, I use my feet to push my jeans off completely, and then kick them aside. In that instance I realize that the Mantodean has my ass in his clutches and that he is gently pulling my cheeks apart. Oh, I think, it wants to get a better look at my asshole. That's cute. So, leaning over, I give it a better vantage.

"Hmm." Says Surry, "It is through this oraphus that you void your bowels."

"Yes, I answer, "and through which one is the taker in anal sex."

"Anal, sex?"

"Yes," I say, purring a little laugh, "you can look it up. In a survey of four thousand humans in 2018, thirty-seven percent of sexually active females and sixteen percent of males have anal sex on an average basis."

The mantid released my buttocks. I turned around and met its gaze, its head tilted slightly. Then the Mantodean shifted its head toward the Mac and another search was initiated.

"The statistic you indicate has a validity of ninety-three percent." Surry says, "That is interesting. Your world's global health organization has the number at one third of seven billion eight hundred thousand or two billion six hundred million."

"I'll show you interesting." I say as I pull my sweater off.

The Mantodean reverts its attention to me and in its great eyes I see myself pointing to my full, slightly conical C cup breasts. I smile at myself, give my boobies a little shake, and then admire the gentle crescent moon shadows cast under my ribs, my very flat belly and its diminutive button. For a second time, the Mantodean takes a long, deep breath and I suddenly feel that the room has gotten warmer.

"These," I tell it, "are a very universally popular object of sexual interest, the mammary glands and their aesthetic symmetry, form and appearance. What do you think?"

"From them, you produce milk for your offspring."

"Well, they're not like soda machines at MacDonald's, but yes. Lactation starts by the time a female's offspring has fully gestated. But, do you like them?"

The Mantodean contemplates an answer. Meanwhile, I realize that I have been petting his left foot with my right.

"They are compelling to look at." Is what it tells me.

"Oh! Good. Can I ask you something else?"

"Certainly."

"Do you also have a butt or like an oraphus from which you void?"

The Mantodean pauses, looking away, and then says:

"Yes, but it is not quite as aesthetically robust as, yours."

"That's very nice of you to say. But, let me get this straight. So is no one on your planet into anal?"

"We, do not engage in, that kind of physical activity, no."

The humidity behind the Mantodean's eye casings increases and I realize also that the area of its crotch is also becoming humid. I stare at it for a few seconds more, and then look back into its eyes to ask:

"Well, what about other cultures on other planets? Is there anyone out there, other than humans, that enjoy a good ass fuck every now and then?"

The Mantodean just stares at me. Its smooth matt olive black face, its astounding eyes betraying nothing. It's just so stunning. I reach down to touch the top of his thigh. It feels wonderful, dry, silky smooth. I look up to see its triangle head shift to the Mac. Then, as I climb onto my mantis's lap, it turns and says to me:

"No."

"No, get off my lap or no, no one other than Earthers do sodomy?"

"The latter."

"Oh my. That's, I don't know what to say. No wait, yes I do."

I press my breasts against my mantis's chest, and it feels very warm. Slowly I caress the Mantodean's shoulders as I study his eyes. The humidity in them is now beading droplets. I think to ask if it's okay, but something in my gut tells me the mantis is just fine. So I ask what I want to ask next.

"Where is your mouth?"

Then there it is, a sudden, subtle vertical parting rising upward from where its chin would be if its head was humanoid. The mouth or vertical slit is about three inches in length and, as it opened, I had to cover my own mouth to contain my startled, though strictly out of wonder, laughter.

"Oh my goodness you have a pussy for a mouth!"

"I do not." Surry answers as the Mantodean parts its lips far enough for me to see that it sure as fuck looks like a pussy hole opening out of a big triangular mango with big black shining eyeballs in it, "This, is my mouth. It is through this mouth that I consume sustenance and speak to my kind."

"Oh! Sorry. So, how do you breathe?"

The answer comes in the sudden raising of two tiny edges of exo-plate, located approximately where, again if its face was human, right over where its nose would be, and revealing two tiny little nostril holes.

"That," I whisper, staring, "is absolutely amazing."

"It is only the means through I take in oxygen."

"No, you're right. No big deal. So, you said you speak. What does your speech sound like?"

In that instant, the Man puckered its pussy lips and quieffed, which is to say uttered a variation of what you might hear a dolphin say, only deeper and more musical.

"That was pretty." I say with a smile, "What did you say?"

"It's getting very warm." Surry conveys its answer.

I agree. So I wrap myself more securely around my mantis because I am comfortable. It became all very heady, the feel of my body against its body, the astonishing magnificence of its eyes and mouth and the smell of the growing warmth between us, like the cozy dry of tall summer grass in a meadow, the smell of hundreds of crickets chirping to each other and seeking out a mate. And that's when I do it. I bring my mouth to meet its mouth and, quivering slightly, it opens up to me.

I give it gentle kisses all around its mouth, ever verging toward the center. I cannot help the play of my tongue, slowly licking the length of its mantid lips, from their outer to inner folds of olive pink flesh. Presently, I involve my tongue more and more. The mantis responds by opening its mouth more widely. I'm startled suddenly because all at once I feel the mantis's rows of thorn teeth aligned beyond its nether lips and the nbulge of its crotch insistently pushing my noonchi.

I want to kiss it more, but I decide to ease back and look down at my mantis's bulge and I am amazed to discover that it now has a triangular shape, protruding like a rounded pyramid about five by four by four inches and there are beads of moisture running down the face of it. Then I notice my sex and I realize that it is a very likelihood that the moisture that covers the Mantodean's sex is all me. My thighs are shining with slick as are the mantis's and there is a growing puddle of my juice on the floor beneath us. Abruptly, my attention returns to the mantid's sex and I am about to ask it if it's a male or a female when I see a slit down its middle emerge, and then slowly part. An instant more and the bulge opens as two exo-plate flaps, from under which two obvious light-green testecals descend and a cork screw coil of shaft rises and unwinds into a straight yet clearly flexible penis of a snake, its head vaguely mushroom like, but flatter and pointier and with a very cute horizontal smile.