A mothwoman

Ipheara hovered within a large forest, flying from giant flower to giant flower, eating and harvesting pollen at each. Her wings glowed in the moonlight as she looked for the next flower to investigate. The stars and the moon were beautiful tonight, not that they ever weren’t, but this night the starlight gleamed like no other. She wouldn’t miss the sight of the stars for the world. The mothwoman loved the taste of the pollen of the pink flowers she had grown. The smell filled her chemoreceptors on her antennae, similar to lavender and roses but sweeter. Her four arms slowly filled up with the bundle of pollen.

She hovered down and walked into a house made out of a giant mushroom. Ipheara placed the collected pollen into a basket in her mudroom, removed her shoes and brought the basket to the kitchen while munching on some more of the pollen. She placed it in the fridge with what looked like lettuce; a side effect of being a mothperson was being an obligate herbivore.

The mothwoman moved forward to her computer to do some inventory. The flowers had grown less compared to earlier years. It was going to be a sparse harvest in the long run. The flowers wouldn’t have enough seeds with how much the quotas asked of her. This was a death spiral for her field… she needed to do something about this, but what? What could be done? While worrying about the future of her farm, Ipheara decided to change into a different outfit instead of her overalls.

As the cloth slipped over her delicate wings and thorax, she saw her birch-white exoskeleton reveal itself bit by bit. The overalls fell at her ankles, piling up before she stepped out with one foot. She raised the other to grab them and turn them inside out, less wear that way. She groomed herself in front of the mirror, removing any blemishes left by the pollen she’d collected throughout the early evening. Her wardrobe was sizeable but not by any stretch of the imagination huge. Looking through her options, she found what was arguably her favourite dress, one with a star pattern fading into a moon on her left.

Ipheara left for the local pub. She didn't know why, but something smelled off, as if some kind of instinctual warning was happening. The mothwoman saw nothing in her surroundings as she left. It might just be frayed nerves from the realisation she wasn't on track to make her deadlines. Nonetheless, she chose not to dilly dally. If something was out to get her, the pub was safe. Everyone knew her. Everyone cared for her.

Ipheara entered out of breath, wings barely folding in. She had flown as fast as her wings would carry her. Quintino approached her with a smile. “What got you so spooked, Iphea? Giant bat chasing you?”

“Who knows, maybe you are right, but I didn't hear it. I just smelled something off, something wrong.” The mothwoman relaxed as the man tried to calm her down. The soft skin of his warmed her exoskeleton as he patted her shoulder. He guided her to a table, where his husband was already waiting with a bottle of mead and some nachos.

As the night progressed, she spoke with them about her worries and the fact that her farm might close, how she had yet to find a partner and the feeling that someone was watching her. They talked about their own little one and how he was growing up ever so quickly. Quintino and Frederic were so glad to be away for an evening. The married couple offered help, at least with the farm, at least as long as she was willing to babysit. To which she agreed with a wide smile. The last thing they offered was to bring her home. Safety in numbers rang through her head as they left.

As Ipheara was about to go to sleep, there was a knock on the door. She cautiously looked through a window beside the front door. No one was there. The mothwoman did the prudent thing and went back to bed.

Twenty minutes passed; another knock on the door, louder, with more hands? Again, no one. What was going on here? Instead of moving back into her bed, she waited at the door behind the curtain in the hopes of spotting whoever had been ding-dong-ditching her.

Ten minutes passed, and a loud knock from four hands on her door, but no one in sight. She was the only mothperson in miles; that was one of many reasons she had such a bad time finding a mate. Who could it be? Who could knock from a place unseen? This, whatever it was, might be a predator, someone trying to kidnap her or whatever else it might be. Why would it hide itself otherwise? She left the window and bunkered down in her room. The knocking became more frequent each time until it continued for a minute.

Whatever it was, it was out there waiting for her to leave. The knocking stopped. Glass shattered from that direction. The mothwoman heard soft steps; the smell became more pronounced. Whatever had been following her was now in her house. The creature that had been tracking her was deftly navigating to her bedroom. Ipheara decided to quickly place a decoy in her bed and get in the closet herself.

The door of Ipheara’s room opened. In crept a spiderman, or at least some form of arachnid. It looked around and smelled the air. He might have a hard time finding her with how much her bed smelled like her. The spider crept to the bed before noticing something off about the closet. He instead approached the door and opened it. “Ma’am, you are up. We need to get you to the set as soon as possible.” He said in a practised service tone with an accompanying smile.

“Why break in for that? Who are you? Set of what?” Ipheara stammered before the spiderman grabbed her like he would a prey.

“Don’t worry all will be explained to you in due time.” The spider said before dragging her somehow through a trapdoor that she didn’t know was there in her house.

A group of Junior producers was discussing things before the portal bay.

“Wait, were we allowed to take non-humans?”

“The only requirement is a human Mastress, right?”

“Correct… so do you think we can go wild?”

“At least do all humanoids; it is unlikely that the Mastress will be interested in non-humanoids.”

“Fair.”

They spotted one of the Junior Producers lugging in a mothwoman; he had either been really bold, had just decided to break the rules, had caught on faster than any of them, or was just really dumb. “So where do I put her until our host is ready for her?” The arachnid-looking Junior Producer asked.

Offstage, the cue from Jack was heard: “And our first contestant is…!”

Someone in the group whispered with urgency in their voice, “Just have her be the first contestant; no one has brought any others, and we need someone.” At this, the arachnid Junior Producer pushed the mothwoman onto the stage.

With a flap of the cape, the mothwoman appeared. Robin looked her over, her birch-white appearance blended in with the marble but not enough to make it hard to spot her, or hard to recognise her. The mothwoman looked more dishevelled than normal; she looked panicked, as if a monster had come up and dragged her out of her bed. She hovered in the air, ready to evade anything that might harm her. Her eyes were darting around, looking for something- spiders, the evil creatures that brought her here. Nonetheless, her hair was puffy and cute and so much more detailed than what it was in the game.

Jack smirked. “Well, the producers had fun picking this one; they must really like breaking conventions. Though I do wish she stood out more in contrast to the background.”

The Mastress looked in shock at the first person to appear. Ipheara was their main romance target in ‘Starfall Town’. She was a weird character with whom it was hard to get the romance started, with her being mainly active at night as opposed to during the day like normal characters. The mothwoman had captivated them because she was the only insectoid-type creature. The path to romance the moth was difficult but rewarding. Somehow, no matter which gender you picked, you would always end up with a dozen kids. It wasn’t something Robin had considered before coming to the show. Now they were faced with a woman whose character in-game was almost defined by it.

Robin had never decided to design their character in-game to look anything like themselves. Each time it was different; each time, something new. At this very moment, they couldn’t look like any of them. Robin smiled and waved before saying. “Hi, Ipheara, nice to finally meet you in person. My name is Robin Shepherd."

“Hi, where are we, and where is that spider-like humanoid that brought me here? There are no other spiders around, right?” The birch-white farmer said.

“I have no idea what she is talking about. Do you, Jack?” Robin said.

Jack had transformed into a taller, darker-skinned man, his cloak turned black and covered in spiderwebs. “Spiders near me? They wouldn’t dream of it.” A hint of sarcasm was present in his voice. As soon as she spotted the spiderwebs, Ipheara moved back from the host. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Young lady, you don’t have to worry about seeing the individual who brought you here.”

Calming down slightly, the mothwoman took in the space and flew up higher, but ran into some kind of ceiling. She looked over to all of the islands in the archipelago and flew down. “So where are we?”

“Thought you would never ask. This is Harem Hotel, and you are here to be one of Robin’s harem members. They will be your Mastress.”

“Mastress? Harem Hotel?” Ipheara stammered out.

“Don’t sweat the details. We will come to those boooooooooooring parts later. For now, they are not relevant. I will not explain the term each time, but since this is also the first time I have used it in front of Robin. Mastress is a merger of Master and Mistress, both correct terms, but since Robin decided not to tie themself to either, we decided to give them a term that fits and emphasises both.” Jack said with a smile before being interrupted by said Mastress.

“Are you real?” Robin asked as they approached the mothwoman.

“Rude. I am as real as you or Jack over there. I don’t go asking you if you are real now, do I?” Ipheara responded, annoyed at the notion.

“Sorry, all of this still feels like a dream. The weird shifting islands, Jack’s constant shifting, and now a character I romance all the time in a game right in front of me. All of this is just trippy. I know I already pinched myself, but it just doesn’t seem real.” The Mastress said out loud.

Jack ignored them and turned to address the audience. “Did you like our first contestant? Too weird, too extreme? Well, of course not all of them are going to be as out there as this one. Normally we leave these for later in the introduction, or even a surprise addition. I do hope you are inspired, though."

“The committee of producers has decided that, in order to increase our audience participation, you can help us come up with some fun transformations for our lovely contestants. I will draw them literally out of a hat. A form will be available for those who wish to toss a suggestion into it."

“As for restrictions, they are simple; they need to fit one of the following paths: Mother, Farmer, or NPC. The path with the fewest votes gets replaced with a new one after our transformation vote.”

“Wait, we will get transformed?” Ipheara was shocked by the information.

“Didn’t you transform a few times already? What is a few more? But yes, none of you will leave the same way you arrived here. You will all have tricks played on you. It’s my speciality, after all.” Jack said with a smile. “Now onto our second contestant!”

Jack’s Hat submission form (Ipheara): https://forms.gle/mZ7nvdkqX285VaDK8