Mature Content Warning: This story comes from the creative and perverse mind of xmodius. Therefore, it contains more sexual themes than a westernized Kama-Sutra book, so if you're under the legal age to vote (that age here being 18), then you'll have to make due with thumbing through the Victoria Secret catalog. If you're over 18, please note that reading on means you do not hold the author liable in any way for any ruined underwear, blindness, hairy palms, or marriage counseling fees.

Author's Notes: This will be my second MGE story, and I'm making this one a one-shot (which is typically less than 8,000 words, though this one will barely break 5,000). I'd tell you more about the characters, but that would spoil the anticipation. ;-) Of course, those unfamiliar with Monster Girl Encyclopedia can find more info on their wikia:

Monstergirlencyclopedia . wikia . com

Enjoy!

The Lighthouse Keeper

"Ya sure y'fallen on such 'ard times as this, mate?" Asked a weathered-looking sailor with more silver than gray in his hair.

"Yes sir. My late father taught me to be a real man, one must do a real man's job, and lifesaving is a noble profession," replied a young man of 18 summers, standing tall and staring straight ahead as though talking to a drill sergeant.

The older man walked around the young lad, eyeing him up and down the way one would a fresh recruit in the military. He coughed and spit unceremoniously on the ground after completing his inspection. "Aye, 'tis an import'nt job 'tis, but 'ardly stimlatin' for the brain. Easy job ta fall asleep at…"

The youth seemed to relax a little at the old man's candor, "I'm aware sir, which is why I've brought plenty of books with me to read. I promise I will stay awake all night."

"Y'know that if y' don't, you'll be sendin' innocent lives to a watery tomb. Do ya swear ta tend this light'ouse as if yer own mother were on a ship headed fer this coast?"

"Yes sir!"

"On yer honor, son?"

"I swear it. On my honor!"

The older sailor sighed, as if he were still getting only a half-rotten apple out of a barrel full of apple mush. "Fine then… come wit' me."

The two men made their way up the winding steps to the hill upon which the lighthouse sat. The ocean's breeze was particularly chilly at the start of dusk, the sunset becoming a mix of orange and purple on the ocean's horizon, and the night sky directly above already dotted with the heaven's night lights. As the pair climbed the last set of rickety wooden stairs, the old man huffed once and groaned about his back, then proceeded to unlock the door to the lighthouse.

The door opened with a musty smell and slight scent of ozone. Inside was another staircase spire that went up about 3 stories to a gigantic fire with a concave mirror that rotated around the blaze. The first floor was like a small house; with a fireplace, soft chair, a rather large bed, and kitchenette area, as well as a bathroom. Not what he'd expect for a lighthouse, but maybe the old man lived here all the time, or maybe it was a converted house.

Either way, it certainly was convenient.

"This be yer quarters fer th' evenin', but no sleepin' on tha job," he said, poking the youth in the chest with a bony finger this time. "Tha fire burns on a supply of ignus gas we keep 'ere," gesturing to a corner laden with small metal tanks. "You'll need ta refuel the fire every two 'ours or so to keep 'er lit."

The young man nodded in understanding, following the lighthouse keeper up the spiral staircase, where he proceeded to show the youth how to refuel the burners, then the wind-up mechanism that kept the light mirrors rotating. When the task was done, he stared slack-jawed at the beautiful sight out the lighthouse windows. Even with the sun almost complete in retiring for the night, the ocean sunset was stunning. Peering out of the circular windows one could see in 360 degrees, and the forest opposite the ocean glowed as in aflame itself, gilded in the glow of the sunset.

"Now listen 'ere boy," the old lighthouse keeper said, clapping his young replacement on the shoulder. "It's time to lay down tha rules, and ya best be listenin'!"

"Yes sir!" said the youth.

"Rule 1. NEVER let the light'ouse light go out!"

He nodded at the obvious.

"Rule 2. Stay outta my snacks in th' pantry! Ya want stuff to eat, bring yer own."

The young man nodded, urging him to continue.

"Rule 3…. And listen carefully boy… Never, ever, EVER go outside at night, or on yer own head be yer fate!"

The young man raised a questioning eyebrow, but the lighthouse keeper rapped him on the head.

"Ya shouldn't even 'ave ta ask, boy! Ya know what lives in those woods?"

"Y- yes sir. Mamono, sir."

"Right. And yer all alone out 'ere, a good 'alf mile from 'elp. Ya go outside, ya won't be 'eard from again! And if th' light goes out…"

"It's my ass?" The youth asked nervously..

The old man chuckled, "Smart lad. Yer dad didn't raise a fool did he?"

"No sir!"

"In that case, I'll see ya tomorrow night 'alf an hour afore dusk. Th' key will be under tha welcome mat. Now hurry on 'ome, unless you want to start a night early without pay…"

The youth hurried out and rushed back to town, leaving the old man to lock the door behind him.

The following evening, the young man arrived at thirty minutes before dusk as instructed, a pack over his shoulder with books and some foodstuffs, as well as some blankets to ward off the seashore chill.

He quickly unlocked the door with the hidden key and proceeded to set up. First was to light the ignus firelight, which he did quickly, then he moved to crank the old windup mechanism that would slowly rotate the gigantic mirror. Completing that, he settled in downstairs, prepping his dinner and readying himself for the night's work.

About a couple hours past dusk, the young man was fighting sleep. Talk about a boring job. While it was important, it definitely wasn't challenging, either mentally or physically. He closed one of his books, running the sewn-in strip of red cloth on the binding between his pages as a bookmark. Maybe a quick jog around the outside would get his blood pumping again and-

"Oh right, I can't go outside or I'm fucked… literally," he said with a half laugh. Joking aside, he knew that while it wasn't nearly as bad as death, it was still essentially a life sentence of slavery to a monster's lustful appetite. A fate no young man in his prime would want thrust upon him so early, even if he was still a virgin. But then, the only monsters he'd ever heard of were the typical forest dwelling creatures, such as werecats, werewolves, grizzlies, and other such beings that were native to this area and didn't typically approach guarded human habitats. But they were a threat whether it was day OR night, so why was the old man so adamant about not going outside when it was dark? He hadn't been approached by any momono during his trip up to the lighthouse...

The sound of errant flapping outside snapped him from his thoughts, though he dismissed it as nothing more than the wind playing tricks.

Until he heard the "thud" of something hitting the glass windows.

He quickly climbed the staircase to the top floor. A large erratically-moving shadow, shaped like some some humanoid creature, moved across the dark parts of the wooden planks. Before he could get a good look, the shadow was quickly washed out as the rotating mirror sent a very brief flash at the flying object, before it was obscured in darkness again. When the light beam passed over the same section of the window again, there was nothing.

In the briefest of moments, the young man swore he saw a figure with huge wings.

An angel, perhaps? Though certainly not creatures of legend, angels were only known to appear before humans who were destined to be heroes, and they certainly wouldn't be scared off by a lighthouse beacon.

Convinced his mind was just tricking him in an effort to stay awake, the young man turned to go back downstairs.

Tap, tap, tap.

He turned around slowly, staring at the utter blackness outside, the moon had waned to but a sliver, and the stars did little to light up the night. He swallowed, waiting anxiously as the light beam passed over his form and moved in its circle, creeping towards the patch of darkness.

The beam fell upon the visitor. A huge insect-like creature with enormous purple and white, butterfly-shaped wings, and the body of a human female married to the thorax of a bug. It was partially covered in sections of a purple-white fluff or fur, but the rest of the creature was hairless and pale as the moonlight itself.

That was all he saw before the light fell off it again, but the creature seemed to skitter and scuttle along the window's edge to follow the light, clinging to the glass with its hands and feet..

The youth watched the creature move slowly with the light; she was following it but also staring right at him, despite the blinding beacon in her face. At least he thought it was a she, so far as he could tell. She had a long silver mane of hair that fell from the crown of her head, and out of that silken hair stood two long, purplish-black antennae that were bent near the tips, twitching as though they had their own will. Her eyes seemed to lack any kind of pupil or iris, and were instead a glow of solid purple. But her nose and mouth were distinctly human, the lips pulled into a frustrated pout as she moved along, dragging her bare breasts across the glass-

"Wait, what?" The young man asked no one then immediately felt the blood rush to his face in embarrassment.

This creature was completely naked, and apparently very very turned on. Her nipples were two hardened pink rocks that she dragged across the cool glass, and her nether regions, crowned by a patch of white fluff, were engorged and drooling as they smeared their sexual desire in a clear, slimy trail as she moved.

And the strangest thing was, although she followed the beacon, she never took her eyes from the man in the room. It was as though he was the flame she was so drawn to.

As if in a daze himself, the young man slowly approached the glass window and the creature outside stopped moving, despite the fact that the light no longer shone upon it. He held up a small lantern, illuminating his way as he reached out and touched the glass. She reacted immediately, pushing her cheek against the palm of his hand, trying desperately to touch him, despite the clear barrier. Her wings fluttered erratically, and the man noticed a snow-like powder outside.

"What… are you?" He asked no one.

The moth-like woman pouted after a few moments and gently tapped on the glass, her wings still once again. She certainly didn't look hostile. And she looked so cold out there. She just needed a little warming up. Nothing wrong with that...

A crack of thunder snapped him out of his daze. The flying woman took off like a shot, and the new lighthouse keeper caught his hands declaring a shared mutiny against the rules (with his raging erection as the leader). Said hands had already unlocked the window and he'd been but a step away from throwing it open and facing… something... he wasn't quite sure what. Whatever that creature was, it didn't appear hostile, but looks could be deceiving. The old lighthouse operator had warned him to NEVER go outside at night. Perhaps that was the reason why.

The young man shook the thoughts from his mind and settled back into his work.

Each night thereafter became a routine for new lighthouse keeper: He'd arrive just before dusk, and stock the pantry with his provisions for the night. Next, he'd refuel the lighthouse beacon, and start it up just as the sun finished setting. Then he'd settle in with a good book and refuel the beacon every couple of hours, as needed.

And about an hour or two after dusk, his enamored visitor would make her appearance. If there was one thing he could say about her, she was drawn to him specifically; not the enormous light in the room. She would show up at the smaller windows on the first floor whenever he was down there resting. In fact, he probably owed her for saving his job on more than one occasion. Several times her insistent tapping woke him from an unexpected nap, only to find the lighthouse beacon was about to burn out. He'd smile and thank her through the window, and if he didn't know better, he swore she would smile in return.

But it always pained him to keep her outside; her constant tapping and pressing her body against any part of the glass that he touched were heartbreaking. Especially when the coastal storms would begin pelting the shoreline with heavy rains. Every time they started, the moth-woman would begin to shiver and struggle to keep her grip on the glass; eventually being driven away as the rain fell harder. And she always gave him that last lingering look of longing and loneliness before she flew away, straining under the weight of the rain on her wings. If only there was a way he could let her in without putting himself in potential danger.

As the old story-tellers would often say, "T'was a dark and stormy night…"

T'was exactly that kind of night as well, and it was prefaced by a very dark, storm cloud-covered sky at what would've been the sunset, but it could not be seen through the veil of thick clouds, ready to release their payload. The winds howled with anger as they blew frigid air off the sea. The young man couldn't get inside fast enough to escape the elements. Given the weather, he figured his nightly visitor would probably not show. Just as he had finished setting everything up, he was about to go downstairs, when...,

Tap, tap, tap.

There she was, clinging to the glass windows on the second floor. Her wings fluttered with the harsh winds, and she appeared to be shivering, yet she still made her appearance, her face begging him with a forlorn pout to come inside.

"I'm… I'm sorry, but I can't…" The young man's words were cut off with a huge thunder crack, and seconds later, the rain came down in buckets. The mothgirl panicked and sprung off the window, trying to take to the air, but the rains were too sudden and too much.

The young man gasped as he watched her struggle to stay airborne, before plummeting to the ground, a good three story fall at least. He practically jumped down the spiral staircase and threw open the steel door, rules be damned.

"Hey! Hello?" He shouted, looking around outside, though his lantern didn't light up much of the surrounding area. His clothes were already getting soaked, so he could only imagine what the poor moth creature was going through after taking a fall like that. She wasn't anywhere near the base of the building, which meant…

The lighthouse keeper felt a lump in his throat, peering down over the rocky hillside that led to the rough waters below. There she was, sprawled against a set of rocks about five meters down.

"Hang on, I'm comin'!" he shouted, trying to overpower the howl of the winds. He climbed down, nearly vaulting down, and sighed in relief at seeing her wings fluttering weakly when he reached her. She lifted her head, her poor face laden with bloody streaks from her forehead. She smiled faintly, clearly suffering. He braced himself against a larger rock and pulled her to her feet, though she was never going to be able to climb, let alone fly, back up the hillside.

The young man turned his back to her and pulled her arms over his shoulders. Even in her injured state, she grabbed onto him with surprising strength, hugging herself to him and nuzzling his neck. He flushed in embarrassment and felt a stiffening in his pants, but choked it down as he carried her up on piggyback.

The steel door flew open with a crash, the soaked man struggling to bear his now unconscious payload, who was no longer holding on for dear life. He shambled over to the living quarters and kneeled with his back to the bed, the mothgirl sliding off and falling onto her back. Without a moment to lose, he grabbed a first aid kit and began dressing her wounds.

"Hmm… just some bloody cuts and gashes, but nothing looks broken… except…" he glanced at her soaked wings, which were awkwardly splayed out. There was a tear running vertically, almost halfway up her lower-right wing, which twitched spastically whenever he touched near the tear. He moved quickly, wrapping some bandage up and down to hold the two pieces together. Hopefully they would heal.

Satisfied the mothgirl would be okay, he was just about to get out of his wet clothes, when he noticed a white substance, similar to wet flour, caked on his fingers.

"Where'd this stuff come from?" He asked no one as he sniffed. It had no odor, though it did come off in clumps if he brushed his hands together.

He checked his guest over once again, her breathing slow yet steady. Looking over the bandage on her wing, he noticed the same wet powdery stuff tucked under the creases where her wings folded when not in use. He brushed her left wing gently to remove it, but more seemed to take its place. At least he knew where this strange powder came from, but why was it coming off her? Maybe some kind of moulting process?

"Just another of life's mysteries I guess," he sighed. "Maybe you can tell me more about it when you wake up," he said with a tired smile to the sleeping mothgirl. She looked even more beautiful asleep, so peaceful and serene. He wished he could crawl in next to her for a nap, but she might be very shocked if she woke up with him next to her.

Satisfied she would not be moving anytime soon, the young man quickly shucked his soaked clothes and grabbed a spare blanket to wrap around himself. It wasn't the most convenient means of staying covered, but it would have to do until the morning when his clothes dried. The beacon wouldn't need refueling for a couple hours, so he set about getting settled in for the night. He brewed a pot of tea, then turned the easy chair so it would face the bed instead of the fireplace. At least this way he could read AND keep an eye on his guest.

His vigil did not last long though. The sound of the muffled, persistent footfalls of the rain lulled him to sleep.

"Where am I?"

"You're here."

"But… where is 'here'?"

"'Here' is where I am with you."

"Why am I naked? Wait… I'm dreaming aren't I?"

"Sort of. You fell asleep naked, remember?"

"Oh right, I was taking care of that mothgirl who got hurt and- oh no! What time is it? How many hours have passed? The light could be out!"

"Shh… your light burns so bright, it will never burn out."

"What? No it needs to be refueled every-"

The youth returned to the waking world, with a weight in his lap that was not there before and something sweet-tasting on his lips. He remembered being naked, wrapped in a blanket, but he felt very warm, especially around his-

His eyes snapped open to the face of a gorgeous woman kissing him feverishly. She licked at the back of his teeth, then danced with his tongue, urging him to kiss back. She pressed her entire body against his, as though she simply could not get close enough, and there was a wet heat near his pelvis that rubbed frustratingly up and down his manhood. It was slick yet a little rough, like hair, the sensation driving him crazy.

She sensed his awareness and broke their kiss, pulling back for just a moment to smile at him.

"B-Bright", she moaned, pressing against him with that primal hunger he'd seen.

"Who are-," he stopped, looking past her to see the bed was no longer occupied. "You're that mothgir- aaaahh!"

Her feverish rubbing had finally allowed her to swallow his nether regions up inside her. She cried out with him, tossing her head back and flapping her wings, gripping his shoulders. The young man noticed more of the powdery substance scatter from her now dry wings, saturating the air around them.

Suddenly he was utterly consumed with this gorgeous creature that was bouncing on his lap, punctuated by a lewd, wet slapping sound every time she bottomed out. Her pink nipples traced circles in the air as her bosom bounced with every thrust.

The young man's brain had signed off at this point with any line of questioning or rational thought. Fuck first, ask questions later.

A primal growl signaled the passing of the torch from logic to lust as he spank-grabbed her ass, earning a gasp of surprise. His hands slid up to her hips, nature's "fuck me" handles, and slammed her down hard. His partner squealed happily and brought one hand to the back of his head and pushed his face in her chest, urging him to suck. He latched onto a breast, pinching the nipple between his lips and flicking the engorged bud with his tongue. The soft fluff of her body tickled, but it could not stifle his desire, which throbbed within his lover.

After a passing of time that neither was aware of, her wanton moans and gasps had turned into cries of desperation. She was getting close, but the precipice was agonizingly just out of reach. He felt her frustration; the easy chair was far too giving and he couldn't get the right leverage to go...

"Harder," she pleaded, nipping his neck. "Deeper."

The young man snorted like a horse under labor and stood up, his winged lover gasping as he pawed her bottom. Her ankles hooked around his ass as he carried her to the kitchenette, setting her roughly on the countertop. He paused, the tip of his desire at her opening, flexing his stomach to make it nudge her teasingly. She stared at him, panting, and before he could even flash a coy smile, she drew him in with her legs and nibbled his ear.

"H-husband," she urged, pulling him into her over and over, mewling in his ear. "Husband, please."

While most men would balk at being called a husband before even being married, it only turned him on more. He complied with gusto, driving himself into her so hard and fast, the thunder outside couldn't even compete with the clatter of the cabinet drawers that flew open and shut with every heated thrust. Within minutes, the sexy mothgirl shuddered and she screamed, her nails drawing orgasmic lines down his back.

That did it. A few more thrusts and his last released a torrent of hot, sticky desire painting his lover's greedy womb. His thrusts had slowed to spasms, each one releasing a little less than the one before. She clung to him as though he'd disappear, trapping him within her.

"That was… just… amazing," he said between breaths. She answered by nuzzling his neck, but whimpered sadly when he set her standing on the floor and slowly removed himself from her.

With post-coital bliss subsiding, logic frantically shoved lust out of the driver's seat and took the wheel. What had he done? I mean it was obvious what he'd done by the laws of biology, but why? Well it felt good, but why did this happen so suddenly? Who is she? Why did she want this from him? And why is it darker in here than usu-?

He peered at the spiral staircase which led up into utter darkness.

"Oh crap! The light's out!"

He raced for the stairs, the mothgirl hot on his heels. The light had gone completely dark, which meant it would take a few extra minutes to fire it up again. Not much time in the grand scheme of things, but it could spell disaster if there was a ship on approach.

He hurried in refueling the system, then relit the pilot light. The ignus firelight lit up as he turned the gas up to full, but the mechanism was not rotating, as it had long since run out of wind-up power.

Fate had decided to tease him, for as he looked out into the ocean, the light's beacon shone on a ship that was on approach, and far too close.

"Oh no! They're going to crash!" He yelled, grabbing the sides of his hair. The lighthouse warned ships well in advance when to turn, but this ship was so close that turning the wrong direction would send them crashing into the hidden shoals beneath the water.

"If only they knew to turn to the left, they might just miss the shoreline, but if they turn right, they'll crash for sure!" He'd really screwed this up. Hundreds of people would lose their lives and all because he was derelict to his-

The ship suddenly lurched to the left, away from the rocky shoals. The youth saw a shadow dancing on the floor, and there, standing directly in front of the stopped beacon, frantically waving her wings and pointing over and over, was his mothgirl. Only when the ship was clear, did she finally stop and pull the relieved young man into her arms.

"People safe..." she whispered. "Husband safe."

"Thank you, uh… Husband? My name's Marcus, actually. Marcus Hanna."

She smiled shyly. "Husband... Marcus Hanna." Then she looked at the floor, her cheeks blushing, "Wife... Ida. Ida Lewis."

"Y've done well boy," said the tired old lighthouse keeper, "but are ye sure ya want this job for tha duration?"

The young man huffed as he unloaded the last box of his personal items and set it down, the golden-orange of the sunset casting its gilded light upon the two men. "Absolutely I am, sir. I'm honored to fill in your shoes in this most noble-"

"Can th' noble bullshit," the old man said with a cackle. "This place is runnin' smooth with you, and yer still here, but…" he drew closer whispering conspiratorially. "Did ya obey all tha rules."

Marcus chuckled and scratched the back of his head, "Well… I might've stepped outside once at night."

The old man winked, "Yeah I knew. I could smell it on ya. And that's why I know you'll be 'ere for tha' long haul. How do ya think I managed ta stay here fer 30 years?"

Marcus cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but winced as the old man whistled loudly. The sound of rustling from the edge of the forest, followed by three adorable werewolves, all about Marcus' age, came charging from the treeline.

Marcus turned to run, but the old man clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Relax," he said, bracing himself. "I'm gettin' too old for this…"

In a blur of gray and blue, the three werewolves completely ignored the young man and took the older one right off his feet with a flying tackle.

"Daddy! Daddy! We missed you!" They cried, kissing and licking the laughing old man on his cheeks.

"Easy girls, I'm not as young as I used ta be, and yer not as small," he said, his three daughters helping him to his feet. All three of them hugged on his arms, their tails wagging adorably. "Where's yer ma?"

"Right there!" They pointed.

Walking from the treeline was indeed another werewolf, though she had the lines of silver in her fur, suggesting her age. And striding alongside her, with a shy smile, was Ida.

"Hello love," the older werewolf kissed her husband. "I still can't believe you found a replacement so soon."

He laughed while Ida hugged Marcus' arm. "Ya know kids, they don't listen fer shit." The werewolf daughters blushed at that.

"So wait, this whole thing was a setup?" Marcus asked.

"Not quite. It's time fer this ol' sea dog to retire and enjoy more time with 'is family, so I needed a replacement…"

"But we also owed Ida a favor," said the mother werewolf. "She's been alone for some time, so we figured, 'kill two birds with one stone.'"

Ida looked guiltily into Marcus' eyes. "Husband mad?"

"No," he said, kissing her forehead, her antennae twitching excitedly. "Not at all.." he turned to the former lighthouse keeper. "But this lighthouse is your family's home. Where will you go?"

"T'was our home. We've been buildin' a cottage in the woods, so now it's yers and Ida's home."

Marcus was stunned. "Sir… I… thank you."

The old man patted Marcus on the back, and the werewolf wife smiled at him sweetly, "Take good care of her, will you?" She said.

"Yes ma'am. I promise."

Marcus held Ida's hand, and she squeezed his in return.

The old sailor grinned. "Do ya swear ta take care of each other an' this light'ouse together, through weather both stormy and calm, for as long as ya both live?"

The two stood together, the last rays of gold falling upon their faces, and answered:

"I swear it. On my honor."
... "I swear it. On my honor."

FIN

A/N: So there's a couple Easter eggs in this story, and they're hidden rather close together. Besides if you liked the story, tell me if you can find the Easter eggs. ;-)