Vicky wasn’t sure why she had volunteered for this. At all.

Sure, the idea of being chosen as the lover of a queen—an actual queen—was… tempting, to say the least. Even as a commoner, she’d heard the whispers. The stories. Who would turn that down? Wealth, prestige, safety, influence… all of it suddenly within reach.

She’d grown up in a harsh corner of the human empire, where life was little more than a struggle to survive and every misstep could cost you. The queen’s court, in comparison, seemed like paradise. The beastfolk and demihumans under Gloriana’s reign were treated well, their needs provided for, their contributions respected. And yet… it wasn’t enough to make her forget what hunger, what desperation felt like.

So when the invitation—or more accurately, the command—arrived that she could participate in this… bizarre royal “romance test,” she’d leapt at it. Who wouldn’t? This was a chance to elevate herself in ways she’d only dreamed of.

But now, standing in the grand hall of Gloriana’s palace, watching the colossal, four-armed, mandible-flanked insectoid queen lean expectantly over the table toward her… maybe she should have paused for a few moments of careful thought first.

Vicky’s stomach twisted. Why did I think this was a good idea? Her eyes flicked up to Chrysanthemum’s glimmering wings, the way her massive eyes seemed to see everything all at once, and the faint click of her claws as she adjusted her posture. Oh gods. She’s enormous. And she’s looking right at me.

“The magic box tells this one that the romance happens after a date. You… tell this one about yourself,” Chrysanthemum said, her four arms folding neatly in front of her, mandibles flexing as she leaned forward slightly. Her multifaceted eyes blinked in a curious pattern, as though trying to see straight into Vicky’s soul.

Vicky sucked in a deep breath. She wasn’t about to say no to this gigantic, terrifying bug lady. Not after volunteering for this.

“I… I work as a bar wench in the southern part of town,” she began, voice tight. “Been doing it since I moved here eight years ago. Never married. Don’t have any kids. Never really had time to… look for a man.”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head slowly, a motion that somehow made her look almost cute, if slightly terrifying. Almost. She let out a low, curious hum.

“Why would you look for a man?” she asked, antennae flicking in genuine confusion.

“To marry?” Vicky repeated, puzzled. She took a small sip of water, hoping to buy a second or two of composure.

Chrysanthemum’s eyes narrowed, mandibles clicking faintly. “This one is confused. Males… are small and weak. Only good for their seed.”

Vicky choked on her water, sputtering and coughing as it sprayed from her mouth. She gagged, waving her hands frantically. “W-what?! Excuse me, what?!”

Chrysanthemum leaned a little closer, inspecting Vicky as if she were a specimen under study. “Yes. Weak. Small. Not… useful in ways important to this one. This one does not understand hyoomee custom.”

Vicky blinked, wiping her face and trying to regain some shred of dignity. Okay, she thought, this is officially the strangest first date in the history of ever. And somehow, I am still supposed to be charming.

“It works differently for hy—humans and demi-humans. Usually the males are bigger and stronger, except for a few exceptions,” Vicky replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite the giant, four-armed queen looming over her.

Chrysanthemum squinted, antennae twitching in suspicion, as if she were searching for a lie embedded in Vicky’s words. Then, in a motion too fast for Vicky to fully track, one of Chrysanthemum’s hands simply vanished. Vicky’s jaw dropped. “Y-you’re… a sorcerer?”

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles clicked in what might have been amusement. “This one knows the magiks. Very… very useful. Yess, yess.” Her hand reappeared clutching a strange book that glimmered faintly in the ambient light. It looked pristine, the kind of perfection Vicky had never imagined—smooth, immaculate pages, crafted as if by artisans with more patience than a city could hold.

The queen held it up before Vicky’s wide eyes. “Is these… the females?”

Vicky froze. That book—this single object—was probably worth more than her entire neighborhood, and here it was being casually brandished like a scrap of paper. She pointed hesitantly. “Uh… no. The one on the right is male.”

Chrysanthemum’s antennae twitched sharply, and a low hiss rolled from her throat. With a flick of her wrist, the invaluable tome sailed through the air and clattered onto the floor. “Worthless trash! No! Only the females are good for companionship. Males… seed sacs. Die after seeding!”

Vicky gaped, half in horror and half in disbelief. “W-wait! That book—!” She dove forward instinctively, but Chrysanthemum’s massive claw swept it casually out of reach.

The queen’s multiple eyes gleamed with alien logic. “Humans… so strange. So obsessed with useless males. This one… does not understand. Only females… reliable. Only females… companions. Yesss.”

Vicky sat back on her heels, heart pounding, muttering under her breath. I survived the first date? And already a priceless book is ruined? What else does this… bug queen… have planned?

“This one is ready for the seeing of the city. You may escort this one,” Chrysanthemum said, rising to her full, towering height. Her four arms flexed as she moved gracefully around the table, wings fluttering faintly behind her. One massive, clawed arm extended toward Vicky, as if offering both a gesture of courtesy and a subtle command.

Vicky hesitated, heart pounding. The queen was… enormous. Every movement was impossibly precise, yet somehow effortless. Swallowing her nerves, she reached out and took the offered arm. It was warm, surprisingly firm beneath the chitin, and utterly alien.

They left the restaurant together, the entire hall having been cleared in advance for this surreal evening. Vicky’s mind spun as they stepped into the streets. She had walked through this part of the city countless times, yet now everything seemed impossibly small, the lanterns and buildings dwarfed by the presence of the swarm queen beside her.

In hindsight, maybe she had been a bit too reliant on her looks, a bit too hopeful that her charm alone would carry her through this alien encounter. She had always considered herself… well-endowed, certainly a busty woman by most measures. But standing next to Chrysanthemum, her chest felt almost nonexistent in comparison. Not that she minded, necessarily—but it was a strange, humbling realization.

The insectoid beside her didn’t seem to care about appearances at all. Her iridescent wings flicked occasionally as she surveyed the streets, eyes taking in every detail of the human city with a detached curiosity. Vicky found herself wondering: What does she want? Was it simple companionship? Something more? Or something entirely beyond her human comprehension?

She squeezed Chrysanthemum’s arm lightly, almost instinctively. “So… you like this city?” she asked, trying to sound casual, though her voice trembled slightly.

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles clicked, a low, thoughtful hum rolling from her throat. “Interesting. Strange. Alive. But… not this one’s home. This one seeks… curiosity. Observation. Perhaps… company is also… pleasing.”

Vicky blinked, trying to parse that. Company? Is that… good? Friendly? Romantic? The queen’s expressions, while terrifyingly intent, were almost impossible to read. Vicky realized she would have to navigate this date very carefully—every glance, every gesture might be interpreted in ways she had no understanding of.

And yet… somehow, despite the overwhelming strangeness of it all, Vicky couldn’t deny the thrill. This was, without a doubt, the most extraordinary first date of her life.

“This one has a question,” Chrysanthemum said suddenly, her multifaceted eyes flicking toward Vicky.

“This one might have an answer,” Vicky joked, a little too easily. Her nervousness had started to loosen into familiarity—and perhaps a touch of overconfidence. Whoops.

Chrysanthemum tilted her head, mandibles clicking softly. “This one wonders… why you show no expressions when doing the talking. The hyoomee’s show nothing. Not antennae wiggle, not pheromones. No wing buzz or chitin scrape. Very hard to read the hyoomee’s.”

“Well…” Vicky hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “We don’t have chitin, or antennae. I don’t think we have pheromones either.”

Chrysanthemum’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if studying her for a hidden lie. “You do. They… only say one thing, though.”

“What’s that?” Vicky asked, curious despite herself.

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles clicked nervously, and she hesitated. “Th-this one shouldn’t say.”

Vicky’s eyes widened. The queen… embarrassed? That was something she never would have expected from an alien of such imposing stature and terrifying power.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Vicky said gently, trying to reassure her.

Chrysanthemum’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper through her chitinous mandibles. “W-well… the hyoomee pheromones always say they would like to do the breeding and how suitable they are for the breeding. They… they do not tell the joy, or the sadness, or the scaredness. Just… lewdness!”

Then, as if ashamed, she brought three of her four hands up to cover her face, her imposing posture faltering into something… shy. The stoic, terrifying persona she had started with seemed to vanish entirely, replaced by this odd, earnest vulnerability.

Vicky blinked, frozen for a moment. She hadn’t expected this. The swarm queen, towering and alien, with her chitin gleaming and wings twitching, was… pure. And innocent. And… kind of adorable.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized—somehow, in the strangest first date imaginable—she was starting to genuinely like this bizarre, enormous, terrifyingly cute creature.

“Well, first off, we don’t have chitin,” Vicky began, gesturing vaguely to her own arms. “We have… skin. I guess the closest thing to chitin would be our nails.”

Chrysanthemum’s antennae twitched in curiosity. “It is… very soft. Vulnerable.”

Vicky shrugged. “Sure, but it has its advantages.”

“It does?” The queen’s mandibles clicked in bewilderment, a sound somewhere between a hiss and a clatter.

Vicky nodded. “Yeah. I mean, if your exoskeleton got stabbed… how long would it take to heal?”

Chrysanthemum’s multiple eyes widened, and her wings twitched in indignation. “This one would not let it get stabbed!”

“I know, I know,” Vicky said quickly, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “But hypothetically. Just… if it happened. Not that anyone could actually get close enough to stab you… your magnificence.”

The queen preened at the compliment, antennae quivering proudly, before clicking her mandibles. “It would take… many moons. Might not… but this one is tough. Not get stabbed.”

Vicky chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Well, if I got stabbed, as long as it didn’t hit something important, it would heal up in… a few days, usually. Nothing magical, just… people.”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head, mandibles clicking in thought. “Hyoomees… so fragile. Yet… survive. Very strange.”

Vicky grinned awkwardly. “Yeah. Fragile, but resilient. We survive in weird ways.”

Chrysanthemum hummed, almost approvingly. “This one… curious about this fragility. Might… explore further. Fascinating.”

Vicky swallowed. Somehow, that sounded both terrifying and… flattering. I’m really on a date with a giant alien queen, she thought. This is definitely not what I expected

“Can this one touch the squish? This one wishes to understand.”

Vicky blinked. The squish? Oh. Right. Her. She gave a hesitant smile. “Uh… sure.”

They stopped and sat down on a nearby bench. The streets were oddly empty—Vicky was certain that had been arranged. No one in their right mind would leave a lovestruck insectoid queen and her date unobserved otherwise.

Chrysanthemum reached out, her clawed fingers surprisingly delicate as they closed around Vicky’s bare arm. She pinched, prodded, and then gave the flesh a careful squeeze, her mandibles clicking thoughtfully.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, antennae flicking upright. “There is exoskeleton on inside!”

Vicky let out a nervous laugh. “I’m… not exactly a scholar, but I think ‘exo’ means on the outside. We just have skeletons.”

Chrysanthemum squinted, then gave her arm another experimental poke. “Strange strange strange! Skeletons go inside!? Very poor planning. Very poor.” She shook her head, mandibles clacking in dismay.

Vicky grinned wryly. “Well, it works for us. Besides, we get more flexibility this way.” She bent her elbow dramatically and wiggled her fingers.

The queen’s four arms crossed and uncrossed in agitation as she muttered, “Strange strange strange! Only seen bugs for many cycles. Eat only bugs. Live only bugs. Now see hyoomee with inside skeleton and soft squish flesh…”

Her wings gave an odd shiver, as if she were both disturbed and fascinated. Then, without warning, she leaned closer, her many eyes locked on Vicky’s face.

“This one wonders… is all of the squish soft? Or is some… different?”

Vicky froze. Her face heated up. “Y-you mean like… different body parts?”

The queen nodded gravely. “Yes. Must conduct research. For romance.”

Vicky gulped. Oh gods. She’s serious.

“The books say the romance happens with the touching. You can do the touching too. This one gives permission.”

Vicky froze. Her mind, much like a broken wheel, spun once, wobbled, and toppled over entirely. She had not—absolutely had not—come to terms with the fact that she was attracted to this gigantic, terrifying, strangely charming bug queen.

Her brain needed a moment to reboot.

Ah. There it was. A flicker of consciousness returning. Words stumbling back into her mouth before she could properly process them.

“Sure. Yeah,” she said, brainlessly.

That was all the permission Chrysanthemum needed.

The queen practically vibrated with excitement, mandibles clacking as she surged forward, all four arms moving at once. She touched Vicky’s face first, her claws surprisingly careful as they poked and prodded at her cheeks. “So soft! But bones inside! The squish hides bones!” She pressed Vicky’s face from side to side, enraptured, as though she’d just discovered an entirely new species.

Then her hands moved downward, sweeping over shoulders, poking at collarbones, patting arms. She paused dramatically at Vicky’s hips, squeezing with a delighted click. “Aha! Very strong bone cage here! Holds all the soft. Hips are fortress!”

Before Vicky could even sputter out a reply, Chrysanthemum crouched lower and gave a gleeful squeeze to her backside. Vicky squeaked—high-pitched, helpless.

Vicky squeaked. Loudly.

Chrysanthemum practically vibrated with joy. “This one has discovered it! The ultimate squish!” she proclaimed, mandibles spreading in triumph. “Even softer than imagined! Even better than book said!”

Vicky bit her lip, burying her face in her hands. She was absolutely not going to admit how good that felt. Or how her heart was hammering out of control. Or how the queen’s innocent awe made it all ten times worse.

Gods help me, I might actually like this.

“The noise. It is a pain one?”

“N-no,” Vicky stammered, still pink in the face. “It felt… unexpectedly good.”

Chrysanthemum leaned closer, mandibles clacking softly, eyes shining with keen interest. “Yesss… it did, didn’t it?”

Vicky blinked. Wait. Wait. Was she being toyed with? The queen sounded way too pleased with herself for someone who supposedly only knew about romance from books. Maybe she wasn’t as clueless as she seemed. Maybe she—

“The tail is hard! Is the exoskeleton???” Chrysanthemum interrupted her spiraling thoughts, suddenly seizing the appendage and knocking her knuckles against it like she was testing armor.

Vicky nearly jumped out of her seat. “Never mind.” She took a steadying breath. “Scales. From my dragon half.”

The swarm queen frowned, mandibles twitching. “Not hyoomee?”

“Partly, partly not.”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head back and forth, considering, then gave a slow nod. “Hmm. This one asked for hyoomee girlfriend. But you are acceptable so far. Good squish.” Her upper hands gestured broadly to Vicky’s curves, while her lower ones gave her thigh an approving squeeze. “This one likes the squish. The brained are well practiced in you too.”

“The… brained?” Vicky asked weakly.

“Yes. The way you make the think-sounds quick and proper. You say the smart things. Very good balance with the squish. Like the book said: ‘Brains and squish make the perfect romance.’”

Vicky didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or crawl into a hole. She decided to just bury her face in her hands again and hope the ground swallowed her up.

Chrysanthemum, meanwhile, buzzed her wings happily, clearly convinced this date was going perfectly.

“This one would like to initiate the face smush now.”

Vicky froze, stomach twisting. “The… face smush?”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head, mandibles clicking softly. “Yes. The face smush. They do it in the romance in the magic theatre box at this one’s home… and in all the romance books. This one thinks it is these extra talky flaps pressed against more.”

Vicky blinked, completely lost. “Extra… talky… flaps?”

“Flaps that move when speaking,” Chrysanthemum explained patiently, antennae flicking. “Hyoomees do them. This one does not have the flaps, but can smush face anyone. For the… romance. Very important step.”

Vicky’s eyes went wide. “Wait. You… mean like kissing?”

Chrysanthemum paused, mandibles clacking thoughtfully. “Kiss? This one… does not know word ‘kiss.’ But yes. Perhaps… yes. This one thinks this is equivalent? Smush face, yes, this is kissing? Hyoomee romance?”

Vicky gulped. “Uh… yeah. That’s what we usually call it.”

The queen’s wings buzzed with excitement. “Yes! This one will smush face. For the romance. Must follow the books!”

Vicky pressed her lips together nervously. Okay… survive the kiss… She glanced at the giant, four-armed insectoid looming over her. Maybe it won’t be too bad… maybe…

Vicky tilted her head up and closed her eyes, unsure what else to do.

Chrysanthemum lowered herself, her lower pair of arms curling around Vicky’s hips, holding her gently but firmly. Her upper hands settled on Vicky’s shoulders, anchoring herself with surprising delicacy. Then, with a soft, deliberate motion, she pressed her wide mandible-flanked mouth against Vicky’s lips.

The sensation was… unusual. Vicky’s mind spun—part panic, part disbelief, part why is this kind of nice?—but her body betrayed her, responding to the firm yet careful pressure.

For Chrysanthemum, the experience was different. Her chitin didn’t transmit sensation the way soft skin did, so the actual feeling was muted. But her heart—her fourfold, beating heart—felt the romance. Every little thrum resonated with the connection she was forging.

She held the position for a few long moments, savoring the closeness, the warmth, the awkward but earnest intimacy. Then, she slowly pulled back, antennae flicking with contentment.

“This one declares tonight… a successful romance,” Chrysanthemum said, voice bubbling with satisfaction. Her wings fluttered gently, a soft buzzing of triumph and happiness.

Vicky blinked, face flushed and still reeling from the experience. She could feel her heartbeat echoing in her chest, a little overwhelmed, a little bewildered… and maybe, just maybe, a little delighted.

Chrysanthemum tilted her head to one side, watching Vicky carefully, as if trying to gauge whether she approved. “This one hopes… you feel the romance too?”

Vicky’s lips twitched in a shy, awkward smile. “Uh… yeah. I… I think so.”

The swarm queen’s multiple eyes gleamed. Perfect. Romance achieved. Step one complete.