Winter Wonderland

Chapter 1

Every summer when Adriana was little, her father would take her to the family cabin.

Minnesota summers were notoriously nice, not too hot, not too wet, not too humid, not too stormy, the list goes on. It all roles down to 70 degrees Fahrenheit and a warm boreal sun. The only down points were giant mosquitoes (thus bug-season), and that tourists were around every corner (later in life, someone had the gall to ask her when deer turned into moose - - they were completely serious). The cabin was her father’s way of getting away from the life that suddenly exploded in the small town, and his way of bonding with his daughter.

Ariana’s lazy afternoon weekends were spent drifting along the massive lake, fishing for lake trout and small mouth bass, foraging through marsh bogs for bullfrogs, and getting second degree sun burn. She had freckles on her face and muddy feet; she loved every moment.

One day when she was six, she wandered into the woods looking for adventure alone, not realizing how far from the cabin she had strayed. By the time she had realized her error, she could not find her way back. Her father’s massive family was also at the cabin that weekend, and although caring as a whole, they did not notice her absence among festivities.

At first it was easy to think Dad was going to come along any moment and berate her gently for wandering on her own, or that her older cousin Mathis would whisk her back to the massive pine tree to show her his collection of trinkets and Magic: The Gathering playing cards. Neither happened.

She spent hours wandering in the woods between thick balsam fir’s that clawed at her dark hair and scratched her face, wondering when exactly she’d find her way back to the lake. However, she had turned around more than once and no longer knew her true direction. In fact, she had been heading deep into the Boundary Waters.

The Boundary Waters straddled the Minnesota-Canadian border, stretching across acres of unpopulated terrain. Tourists frequented it constantly for canoeing and relaxation, and all Ariana could find was terror. Clearwater Lake was officially considered Boundary Water, and one step in the wrong direction was all it took to become well lost - - some people remained lost for weeks, some even died.

Ariana would become that exception.

The sun had sank low into the horizon, bringing with it the bugs and the Minnesota cold. Ariana’s pudgy child fingers itched the burning bites as she shivered and tore through another bush. However, her foot slipped into a hole created by cedar roots and she fell down a brushy hill, scrapping her hands across sharp rocks and pebbles. With that failure she was content to sit and snivel at the base of the incline.

Three red triangular dots glided up her skinny legs and rested on her collar.

Ariana looked up, hazel eyes wide. She had caught the creature cleaning a kill, a doe fat from foraging, half skinned and strewn across the pine-needle covered soil, eyes glazed and mouth bloodied. Ariana knew that you had to skin a deer before you hung it. Her father had done the same on his own buck the winter before - - only this creature used his bare, black-clawed, hands.

He was taller than her dad by many feet, and she had to crane her neck to see his horned mask. It was fearsome, a visage of gilded teeth and symbols. She might have wailed had not his tense stance softened. Low rumbles came from his chest, the target system disengaging. The deep bass sound was comparable to the kitten she had recently received - - she associated the sound with warmth and sleep and thus was nullified of her strongest fears.

The claw of a hand beckoned her, and what could she do but follow? Rising, Ariana sniffled and wiped her scraped hands across her belly, trying to keep a straight face, trying to be tough. She dared to get within arm’s length of the armored giant, heaving lung-full’s to restrain half-sobs; the claw reached for her.

Thick knuckles brushed over her flushed cheeks, smearing her face with sticky deer blood. Then the beast crouched once again to his kill.

Ariana watched, making little noise out of nature, a hiccup or two filling the space between the sound of ripping hide. There was the smell of rust, of iron, the musk of the deer, the pines. His yellow-green hands were bathed black by blood, and soon all that was left on the deer was meat.

He tied the hind legs with a cord of rope, and hoisted his kill high into the cedar tree. Once satisfied animals couldn’t reach, the giant turned back to Ariana and the visor of the helmet flashed gold.

Later, her family would berate her for scraping her hands and for worrying them with her prolonged absence. She spent the night in the cabin, staring out the window long past her set bed-time, wondering if the creature that had carried her was outside. Years had passed without seeing anything to remind her of that night, and thus it had floated away into memory.

Funnily enough, Ariana wasn’t afraid of monsters under her bed afterwards.

And now, modern day, Ariana wondered if he‘d crashed here on purpose. She wondered if he had abandoned ship here because he was acquainted with the place and it was far out of the way of human civilization. She didn’t proclaim to be so self important that he thought to her being there, or arriving after he crashed - - he seemed curious about the situation. Ariana was not. She wanted her damned vacation.

Half dazed and half drunk from gin, Ariana rested her head on the counter where she had passed out only a few hours before, the bottle still clutched in her hand. The alien was engrossed with family trophies on the walls - ducks, deer heads, large fish, antlers - his grotesque mandibles tapping together absently as a clawed thumb caressed the bones on his chest.

“You were here before,” she slurred, and he jerked towards her with a disconcerting speed. “When I was little - - you’re the shh-shame one, aren’t yah?”

Her nightmarish-hunter-killer stood over her then, small amber eyes peering from black sockets. The pale-yellow flesh of his face was riddled with small wrinkles yet sturdy and malleable, while the dome skull seemed hard and rough, a black crest jutting upwards before the thick tresses. The mandibles stretched dexterous skin while scrapping tusk against tusk, keeping the points sharp. Those joints jutted with dangerous bone, and the inner jaw breathed out foul smelling breath - - meat, Ariana’s nose recognized with a twitch.

“You were here before,” her voice echoed back from his gauntlet with a tap of a claw, “When I was little - - you’re the… same one, aren’t yah?” He made a slow trill, as if calculating the meaning of her words, yellow eyes rolling sideward in contemplation before back again.

But Ariana didn’t need his words to know it was true - - he barely looked like he’d aged a day. “Wha’s your name?”

If he understood, his name ended up being many syllables and half a dozen odd clicks that she couldn‘t make. As if understanding the physical disability, he shortened it, “Thei’hma.”

“Thay-hama,” her slur helped the pronunciation. She raised a heavy hand to point at herself. “I’m Ariana Suojanen - - you can call me Ana.”

“Ana,” the monster mimicked.

It still seemed too unrealistic to be true; Ariana swallowed the rest of her alcohol. “I’ma bring my things inside now,” she said after a moment, soaking in the unnatural warmth in her belly. “Then I’ma sleep this off, okay? Then if you‘re still here, and this isn‘t a dream because I crashed on the way to the cabin and am suffering hypothermia, we‘ll call me crazy.”

Ariana dismounted the stool and stumbled right into Thei’hma’s hulking form. Every sinewy muscle in his abdomen tensed and large armored hands clamped her shoulders tight. She steadied herself as a wave of vertigo flooded her senses with a bitter oily smell. He felt real enough.

“On second thought,” she groaned, lurching, “I may go to bed now.”

“…go to bed now,” Thei’hma’s recorder answered, body hot against hers, even through her winter gear.

She gave a half-sane giggle in reply, and was forcibly turned towards the bedroom. “If you’re real, I think I’m going to flip. I’m going to flip very, very badly.”

“Flip…badly,” he replied again, dragging her across the room.

The alien picked up her squealing form and set her on the bed. His massive head tilted, tusks clacking, then he pushed her shoulder roughly. Ariana fell back with a “oof.”

“…go to bed now.” That recorder sure was versatile.

“Yes, mom,” Ariana groaned and rolled over, asleep before she knew what hit her.

Thei’hma surveyed the female curiously. She had drank far too much of her ooman c’ntlip. Her breath was horrible.

Rattling in humor, he turned back into the main part of the dwelling, picking between his fangs with a flick of the tusk. Strange, these oomans. The amusement of the female was short lasted however, as he peered out of the dwelling view-port and was reminded of his situation.

Thei’hma’s N’biv-de lay in ruins outside and he had no means to fix it or signal his clanship. It could be a long time before they investigated his disappearance. Cycles maybe. He would miss out on another rutting season with his females. All the skulls he had collected, on what the oomans called an “Ah’f’rikahn Zapha’ree,” would go to waste. He could have roared with anger. The rut season was close, his internal clock told him by the faint throbbing of his groin every time he thought of females.

The N’biv-de had been damaged by soft meat weaponry in Ah’f’rikah. Thei’hma had managed to steer his craft into the upper atmosphere of the backwater planet, but the main reactor failed. To the best of his ability, he directed the wounded space-craft to part of the planet he had visited cycles before. It was densely forested and lacking in vicious pyode amedha, with many lakes in which to hide his ship. Only he could not direct his ship into a lake with the speed of the crash.

And he had not expected it to be so cold.

Thei’hma clacked to himself, looking at the hellish environment in distaste. He preferred to drink hard meat blood over this cold. Even the cycles before had been cool, far below preferred temperatures for the hunt. The perfect temperatures for the oomans to flee to, however. Thus he’d followed and became lost in other bountiful game.

Then the ooman pup found him.

That had been a story to tell his hunt brothers on the ship. They’d laughed at how clumsy the ooman pup was and how it was unable to navigate its own environment. His old Hunt Brother, Ik’gra, commented that he would have left such a stupid creature to die - - it would have grown to be stupid. Thei’hma, however, understood that the sense of smell in the pyode amedha was weak, and that their sucklings were more dependant on their bearers and sires than other Prey species. Any ooman pup of that age would have surely died if not brought back to its clan.

The female pup was fortunate that it had ran into a Hunter that researched, showed mercy for mistakes. He’d helped it - - picked it up like a suckling of his own kind and carted it the few hundred noks back to her clan.

He’d stayed only long enough to make sure the pack took her in, and watched with interest at the amount of social bonding. The pup was coddled, picked up, embraced, then trounced around with other pups.

Thei’hma had 63 sucklings, many, for his relatively young age. Of course, he was also an Honored Warrior and had been so for cycles. He possessed a ship, was allotted the honor of singular hunt, and bestowed the right by his Elder to hunt the pyode amedha. Females pounced on him during rut like lions on gazelles. He purred. Thanks to the female’s vicious spurs his body was scarred and toughened. His last female, now two cycles ago, had gouged his thigh clean open as he mounted her. Thei’hma’s loins stirred at the thought. That had been a rut.

But he was going to miss the next rut, after having spent the last cycle too far out from the clan ship hunting - - he didn’t make it back on time. Thei’hma felt he would go hulij-bpe, crazy, if he couldn‘t impregnate a female. It had been building and building, a pressure that ran to the forefront of his mind every few ooman minutes. His balls were heavy and his cock was hard, he was primed for rut.

Thei’hma hissed and palmed his metal codpiece. It did little but make the ache worse. If this continued, he wouldn’t be able to think straight. And the only female near was Ana. She wasn’t even his species.

But Ana smelt like a female, a very ripe female.

Thei’hma clicked in one part contemplation another part desperation.

He was indeed stranded on this backwater planet until his clan elders tried to contact him. They would send arbitrators to search - - they had to prepare for the worst after all. It was probable he might remain on the planet for many ooman years.

But he did not have to miss rut. The Warrior knew that the pyode amedha were compatible with his species for mounting - it was similar to the yautja‘s own process - he’d watched ooman mating many times in his research. He’d seen them do things he hadn’t even thought capable before traveling to the ooman planet. A female had once kneeled down and taken a male’s reproductive organ into her oral cavity, stroking the male’s shaft with her taste sensor. The groans of the male said he enjoyed the strange practice.

Thei’hma purred at the idea of Ana using her alien mouth on his own pipe.

It was unusual for yautja to take sexual pets, but not unheard of. The yautja were xenophobic by nature, but they were not all so clinched that they wouldn’t try new things. Mounting the ooman would likely prove difficult, taxing, but a relief in the end, Thei‘hma was sure. They were willful creatures, oomans, and small. He only had to convince her. The other Hunters would not care - - they certainly hadn’t cared when they’d seen Elder K’rik in the Queen hold, enjoying the hard meat’s dense flesh.

Thei’hma gave a throaty purr and settled his twitching cock.

Surely he could convince the ooman to rut with him. It was a win-win situation, was it not? They’d both have, as the oomans said, “fuh’k bud-ehs” away from their kind. Desperately, Thei’hma planned. His trophies wouldn’t go to waste.

* * *

Ariana stared at the behemoth. He stared right back. She was certain that hangovers didn’t cause delusions, so the alien must have been real. Great. No vacation for Ariana.

He’d donned his mask again, and for that Ariana was thankful. His face disturbed her at an instinctual level, and she preferred it covered. While interesting and moving, the set was definitely that of a predator. His yellow eyes were forwards and his teeth sharp. Ariana did not like feeling like she was prey, but a strange tingle slithered down her spine as if to say: it’s too late for that.

Had Thei’hma not been here, her plan was to go hunting. With all the weaponry on this guy, however, she felt pulling out a gun was not a good idea. Movies might be a better way to start the vacation, or maybe a book. Her stomach growled. No, no, food, food was the best way to start. It would help with her mild hangover.

After dragging her sled full of personal items inside she laid down some rules. She was afraid of the beast, she could admit to that, but she downright needed him to understand. If last night wasn’t more than a drunken haze, he obviously understood a lot.

“These are my things, and you will not touch them,” she jabbed a finger at her clothes and personal items. He watched her put them away into drawers, clicking. “If you do, so help me Chuck Norris, I will keelhaul your scaly ass.”

She made for the food, “And this is my food. If you eat my chocolate, my ice-cream, my friggin‘ bacon, so help me Satan… you don‘t want to know.”

“Not touch, not eat,” he conceded.

Ariana felt like a weight had lifted. She made bacon with toast and eggs, and sat at the wood table, fork firmly in hand. The alien followed, tilting his head, observing. It was as if she were some rare animal. Or he planning the best way to anal probe her. That’s what aliens did after all. Anal probe.

He growled.

Ariana choked down on her eggs and set down her fork to gulp water. Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to think of alien abduction.

Her deduction was not far off.

Thei’hma studied the female. For a ooman, she was well proportioned. Wide hips, a lean body. He imagined mounting her - - how she would feel wrapped around his cock. Oomans were miniscule compared to his own females, soft and more curved. Ooman females also had breasts when they were without child, a strange feature, even on this backwater planet. Thei’hma wondered what the lumps of flesh felt like.

Ariana dumped her plate in the sink, turning back around - - only that he was right there. She jumped, looking up the broad chest with wide eyes. He made a strange sound at her then, a chirp that settled into a low gurgle.

“Um…” she scooted sideward but the beast followed, “what?”

She squeaked as a massive hand pressed over her heart. It was gone so fast she wondered if it had ever been there. The alien looked down at her expectantly, repeating the strange gruff trill. Ariana suddenly felt that not forcing him out of her home was a bad idea for her personal vacation. She’d had thoughts of locking him in a closet - - out of sight, out of mind, after all.

“I don’t know what you want,” Ariana swallowed thickly.

He shifted and pressed his paw to her chest again - - his skin was hot. He had no business being so toasty in Minnesota. He did the gesture again… and again, becoming increasingly fidgety. Finally, his solution was to corner her into the cupboard and purr. Low.

The feeling of his body against hers made her entire body vibrate. It felt amazing. All the more reason for it to stop.

Ariana balked. She laughed nervously as he squished her lower back firmly to the wood. Her hands came up of their own accord and caught at his wrist before he accidentally touched something more jiggly.

“We need to have a talk about personal bubbles!” The woman was certain had the massive male tried, he could have easily broken her hold. He was surprisingly lenient under her grasp and finally relented as she pushed him away by the abdomen.

“You see this?” Ariana said, drawing an invisible circle around her body with a finger. “This is my bubble. Please don’t enter it. You don‘t enter mine, I won‘t enter yours.”

His head tilted, and a curious chirp came forth. Ariana nearly guffawed at such a stupid noise coming from something so decked out in weapons -

Thei’hma wondered if the female was hulij-bpe from lack of mating. She had no such bubble.

This was going to be harder than first thought.

- Ariana sighed instead, her second shadow turning to follow her as she prepared for a shower. She found a comfy pair of slacks and a towel and headed for the bathroom. He would have followed her there too, if she hadn’t turned around and stopped him.

“Nah-ah, you’re not coming in here with me, stay out there.” Ariana shut the door in his tilted face.

*

The first day passed fine - - fine beyond getting used to 300 lbs of pure scaled muscle pressing against her at every other moment (he obviously didn’t understand the concept of a personal bubble). By the end of the day her nerves were frazzled, but even an alien male knew when to take the couch, because no way in hell was she letting the giant sleep with her.

He may have been a monstrous walking space heater, but that didn’t mean she was going to be weak and ask for him to warm the cold bed. Ariana didn’t think she could take him pressing against her like a giant vibrator much longer.

And that made her flush, because she didn’t think that he knew what he was doing to her. At least that’s what she thought. That and it was wrong to be aroused by a seven-foot-nine, codpiece-clad, extraterrestrial-warrior.

Ariana blamed it on her luck with men: she’d had one boyfriend during college, and they were more or less straight up and loving as a pair. There was trust, respect, everything needed for a happy couple. Only for the fact that size does matter. And not the size of her boyfriends guns - - because he pumped iron, but the size of his prick. And in that department Ben had been severely lacking. It was like making love to a flat piece of cardboard, she couldn’t even tell he was there (and he was the first one she’d had flat out sex with, so it couldn’t have been the size of hers). He was just that lacking.

So when a giant-nightmarish-alien-hunter from outer-space wanted to press against Ariana and turn himself into a living vibrator every other second - - who could blame a poor deprived woman of wondering if his bits and pieces were as large as the rest of him?

Ariana groaned for the umpteenth time that morning and rolled over again. This was the exact reason she had wanted a vacation - she didn’t want to worry over relationships, and she sure as hell wished that her newest roommate wasn’t so personal. This was like a bad hentai gone wrong.

Of course, most hentai were already bad and wrong, so it made little difference - - and she’d seen plenty of those, trust me.

Finally, Ariana swung her feet to the cold floor and scooted from the bed. A clattering trill greeted her. She was as ready as she was going to be to face the day.

* * *

Translations

Ah’f’rikah: Africa.
Ah’f’rikahn Zapha’ree: African Safari.
C’ntlip: alcohol.
Fuh’k Bud-ehs: Fuck Buddies :D
Hulij-bpe: crazy.
N’biv-de: “Hawk.”
Ooman: Human (slang).
Pyode Amedha: Soft meat (human).
Sucklings: Kids.
Thei’hma: “Death-Rites.”

Hahaha… This story makes me laugh. Thus the awkward situation of explaining to people who hear you laugh what you are writing. The heat is getting hot!

That whole thing with Elder K’rik and the Queen - - I saw a picture of a Yautja doin’ a xenomorph on gelbooru.com and it just continuously makes me crack up.

Further more, I deleted this story earlier because I could not access it, so I apologize to those who reviewed, but know I give thanks for those who did! Next chapter will have good delicious smut for us all to enjoy!