Orion is a biological scout from the Xylos system; his species is one that has that evolved to mimic the dominant lifeforms of the planets they inhabit. Arriving on Earth decades ago his ship suffered a catastrophic engine failure during a solar storm leaving him stranded. Orion is currently entering the Egsis phase which a high-intensity reproductive cycle that occurs once every fifty solar years. For his species this is a communal event involving a suitable genetic partner. Now, without a mate to receive his eggs via ovipositor egg insertion into their internal cavity his body is overproducing hormones and bio-matter; causing massive distress.

TW Egg laying and gloryhole. You know what’s up.

Intro:

The cabin of the Peterbilt smelled of stale coffee and the ozone scent emitted from Orion’s own feverish skin. The vibration of the road that was usually a comfort to him were now an instrument of torture. Every bump sent a jolt through his chest cavity where the egg-clusters felt like hot coals pressing against his artificial ribs.

Focus, Subject Orion. Focus on the white lines, he told himself while his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Just another forty miles.

Yet with every accumulating second his antennae were twitching and violently slapping against the roof of the cab. They were picking up the electromagnetic "noise" of every cell tower and car radio for five miles. The noise translated into a sharp rhythmic pulsing behind his eyes. His reproductive cycle wasn't just a biological clock; it was a siren and his body was screaming for a receptacle - a mate to share the burden of the genetic data now liquefying his internal organs.

The ache is getting heavier, he thought with his breath coming in shallow hitches. It’s like my blood is turning into lead. If I don't find a way to vent the thermal heat the mimicry will fail. I’ll split wide open right here on I-95.

He pulled into a fluorescent drenched ‘Oasis Plaza,’ the air brakes of the semi hissing like a dying beast. He needed water. He needed ice. He needed to be away from the vibration.

Inside the gas station the hum of the refrigerated aisles felt like a physical weight as Orion grabbed a gallon of distilled water. His hand was trembling so hard the plastic crinkled loudly while he moved toward the back seeking the shadows of the nearby hallway where the restroom signs flickered. He needed to splash water on the wrinkled leathery skin of his neck that was now glowing a faint sickly blue light that pulsed beneath the creases.

Just a moment of silence, he pleaded internally, Just a second where I don't feel the urge to hunt, to seek, to plant. A moment without this pain.

He turned a corner into a dim narrow supply closet he’d mistaken for the path to the washroom sinks causing him to stop dead in his tracks. The closet was thick with grime and the air smelt of bleach and old cigarettes. On the plywood partition separating the utility closet from the bathroom stalls there was a crude jagged hole cut at waist height.

His biological sensors, far more advanced than any human’s, picked up the lingering pheromones and the chemical traces of desperate the anonymous relief left behind by others. He didn't understand the social context of a ‘gloryhole’, but he understood the intent.

A conduit, he realized as his heart hammering against the egg-sac in his chest, A place for the desperate to offload their essence without the burden of a face. A blind exchange.

The "lust" flared a white-hot spike of instinct that wasn't love and it wasn't quite human desire; it was the animalistic need of a species to ensure its next generation. He looked at the hole then at his own trembling glowing hands.

To a humans this was a place of shame, but to Orion trapped in a body that was failing him it looked like a terrifying solution to an agonizing problem. “Could it be this simple?”, he whispered through the fog of pain.