Stoopid Hoomans

I carried my basket of huppa-fruits toward the hooman settlement, a series of small bubbles inside a larger bubble. I had watched them inflate their bubbles, wait for them to harden, and then move inside. A clever trick, the hoomans had, though they were stoopid in every other way.

A mekla-woman saw me with my basket and cried out, "Yoo are going to sell your huppa-fruits to the hoomans? Yoo are a foolish mekla-man! Hoomans cannot eat mekla-food! They can only eat hooman-food! Stay with me tonight, my egg sac is nearly ready to be fertilized and I can smell yoo are filled with essential fluids to bring them to life." She hovered over me, almost drooling at the smell of my fertile fluids waiting for her (or some other mekla-woman) to use.

I smiled at her. "That will not matter." I said to her. "I must go to the hooman's settlement to sell my huppa-fruit, and they will buy it though they indeed cannot eat it."

"Besides, it is getting late." she pointed out. "If yoo are in the hooman's village when the greater sun goes down, yoo will have to wait there until morning."

"That will not matter, either." I said. "I shall stay the night with the hoomans."

"You are a stoopid mekla-man!" she shouted at me again.

"I am not a stoopid mekla-man." I said. "It is the hoomans who are stoopid. And they will buy all my huppa-fruits at a very good price."

The mekla-woman threw her arms up in the air in disgust, went back up into her home.

Neither the mekla-woman nor I could say the deep "U" sound the hoomans used when, in other things, naming themselves. It was only one of their oddities. For example, the hoomans called their home-world "Earth." If that was so, why didn't they call themselves "Earth-men" instead of "hoomans" or "hooman beings?" It is why I call myself a mekla-man, I am a man whose home world is Mekla. But that was not my worry. I got to the entrance of the hooman settlement and onto their streets. As I had expected, the hoomans were all there, for not even hoomans are foolish enough to venture outside after the setting of the greater sun. The fefith fly in their huge, hungry flocks after the setting of the greater sun, and mekla-men and hoomans both would make a delicious dinners for their hungry fangs. The fefith would swarm and devour either of us in a matter of moments. One hooman I knew described living on Mekla as "living in an ocean filled with flying piranhas when the brighter sun goes down." When he explained to me about his world's fish called piranhas, I agreed with him, but said it explained our customs of hospitality that the hoomans love so well.

I had said to the mekla-woman that the hoomans would want to buy my huppa-fruit, and soon as I walked into the settlement, they scurried over to do so. "You are selling those pear-things?" one of them called to me.

"Huppa-fruit." I said, displaying them. "They are fresh off the tree from my own yard, and I could get a very good price for them in my home village, but I thought yoo hoomans may like to buy them instead."

"The greater sun is nearly down."

"I know." I said, spread my hand in helplessness. "But if I was to travel here, I could not hope to return before tomorrow."

"That means..." The hooman practically drooled. "I will buy all of your funny pear-looking things, if you will spend the night with me."

"I should be pleased to spend the night with the hooman who buys my huppa-fruits." I said. Of course a merchant needing a place for the night would be the guest of his best sale of the day, that was common courtesy. "But first I must sell them, or my trip here will be meaningless."

"I'll give you three parics each for them." one hooman panted.

"I'll pay you four." another one said.

"Five parics." a third put in.

"Six." the first one bid again.

"Seven." a fourth hooman offered.

"Why is everyone bidding on those things?" a young man, new to Mekla perhaps, asked.

His friend bent over and whispered in his ear and the man's eyes went wide.

"Eight parics each."

"Nine parics." the second hooman was holding his sheaf of pink-colored parics out in a fan as he said it. He glared about, as if daring anyone to try to outbid him.

"Ten parics." the young hooman said who had asked why everyone else was bidding.

"Now, listen here, Danmark...." the hooman with all the parics said.

"I don't care." the young hooman said. "I'm buying these huppa-fruits from him and that is final."

I smiled at him kindly. He was the only one who had called the huppa-fruits by their proper name. "Then they are yoors." I said. "Bidding is closed."

"But I want to bid twelve parics each." the second hooman said. "Re-open the bids."

"I shall not." I said.

"Fifteen parics each." the hooman said. "And you can keep them, just come home with me for the night." His lower garment was bulging out alarmingly far.

The young hooman came to me and fumbled in his pouch worn at his waist. "I have the parics." he said. "You'll have to come home for the rest of them, but here's forty, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven parics up front." He handed me all the parics in his pouch. He was trembling as he looked at me and I smiled.

"Young hooman, let us go to your home before the fefith wake up fully." For the greater sun was now only a small line upon the horizon out on the Sipith Sea.

"It is this way." the young hooman panted.

We got to his home and his house was filled with boxes. "Sorry, I still haven't finished unpacking since my move from Terra." he said.

"Terra?" I asked as I settled my quadropods on the floor. Hoomans have only two legs, it makes them so unbalanced-looking, and they must pick one of their legs completely off the ground to move, but they don't fall down nearly as much as you would think they should with such an arrangement. We of Mekla have a more sensible arrangement of three flexible legs, none of which needs to leave the ground to move us along.

"Earth." he supplied.

I shook my head. "Why do yoo have two words for one thing, hooman? It makes no sense."

"We just do." the hooman shrugged. "My name is Bill."

"I thought yoor name is Danmark." I remembered the hooman with all the parics calling him such during the bidding.

"It is."

"You have two names for yourself as well?" I said. "That is stoopid, hooman. So many things hoomans do is so stoopid."

"My full name is Bill Danmark." the hooman explained. "What is yours?"

"I am called Dakit." I said.

"Won't you come sit down and rest?" the hooman said. "I don't have any mekla-food, I'm sorry, but if you want to try human-food, I will give you whatever you would like."

"That is not a problem." I said. "I shall simply keep eat a few of the huppa-fruit yoo bought from me. After yoo pay for them, that is."

"Oh, right." the hooman went and fumbled in a box, digging, until he came out triumphantly with his bundle of parics. All hoomans have big bundles of parics, it is another stoopid thing about them. Why keep a lot of parics around when there are things you could use them to buy. You then can always sell the thing again if you need parics for some reason.

"How may huppa-fruit do you have?" the hooman asked.

"Fourteen." I said.

"That's a hundred and forty parics." the hooman peeled them off the wad of parics. "I was supposed to use this to pay my rent, but my landlord can wait a few days."

I took his parics and placed them in my own pouch, handed him the basket. "Here are the huppa-fruits." I said. He took the basket and I reached in and took out a huppa-fruit. "And I thank yoo for your hospitality."

The hooman nervously put one of his little square things they eat into one of his machines which heated it. He ate it while staring at me constantly. I let him stare. He was new to Mekla and to mekla-men and mekla-women.

"I never saw an alien so human-looking, mostly, yet with shiny black skin." he said after a time. "It's very...interesting."

I flexed a muscle to let him watch the lights shine off my body. "Do yoo like it?"

"Very much." he agreed.

"As a guest in your home, I should do whatever I can to please yoo." I said, quoting a fundamental Mekla hospitality rules to him. "The host honors by his house, the guest honors by his skills in making his host happy."

"That's what Charley said to me." Bill-Danmark panted. "Your skin, it is shiny like an insect's shell. Is it hard like the shell?"

"Not at all, hooman, it is as soft as yours." I said. "Would yoo like to touch it and see?"

"Yes, I would." he practically fumbled out of his chair and came over, knelt by me and reached for my arm. His fingers felt out the muscles of my arm and upper chest. "You look and feel just like a hooman from the waist up." he said. "A very buff hooman."

"Is that good?" I asked.

"Yes, very much." He agreed. "May I...taste your skin now?"

"Yoo are my host." I said. "Yoo may do with me whatever yoo would like. I am told that hoomans find the smell of a mekla-man to be most stimulating. Arousing, I believe they call it."

"Oh, God, yes!" Bill-Danmark groaned and he licked at my skin. "Ah, you even taste sexy as hell, oh, God!"

"Is that your new nickname for me, Oh-God?" I asked him. I knew hoomans sometimes give a Mekla-man they like a nickname. Most hoomans I have been the guest of at night will even give me several.

"No, oh, God, no." Bill-Danmark said. "I just mean...oh, God, you are turning me on!"

"I do not understand." I said. "You say Oh-God is not my nickname, and then yoo address me as Oh-God." I held my hand. "It does not matter. Would yoo like to exchange your fertilizing fluids with me now?"

"Huh?"

I remembered a word the other hoomans used for it. "Do yoo want to fuck?" I said instead.

"Oh, God, yes!" Bill-Danmark moaned. "Right now, please, right now!"

"Very well." I said. "Let us fuck as fast as the fefith fly, which is very fast indeed."

"All right." I watched with interest as he struggled with his clothing. Another thing about hoomans that is peculiar, and that is that, even though Mekla is very pleasantly warm for them, even a little too warm, they still insist on wearing more than one layer of clothing over themselves. We Meklans are more sensible, and only wear clothing in the polar regions when it can actually get cold enough at times that water will freeze into a solid. The rest of the world, and the rest of the time, we wear nothing but our own skin and why not? It is sufficient.

So I waited while Bill-Danmark got out of first the two heavy things he wore on the bottoms of his legs, and then two pieces of thick cloth underneath that, and then he had to struggle out of his upper clothing, the top and the bottom of the upper layer, and then the upper and bottom of the lower layer, all this before he could stand before me wearing only his own skin. Meanwhile, he had a considerable pile of clothing on the floor he had to tend to. Pah! In this weather, a Meklan would have sold it so he would not have to keep it about when he didn't need it, and bought something he wanted or enjoyed.

"Can we fuck now?" I asked him. "My fertility arm is extended as yoo can see." The Meklan's fourth lower leg is much smaller than the other three, and we use it solely to mate with each other. Or in this case, with an eager and curious hooman!

"Oh, God, yes, we can finally fuck now." Bill-Danmark got down onto his knees and his hand grabbed my fertility arm and his lips reached for mine in the custom that hoomans call a "kiss." I don't understand what a kiss is for, there is nothing fertile about the hooman lips any more than there are Meklan lips. But I did agree that the custom was pleasant, even when he stuck his tongue into my mouth in an advanced form of kissing.

He withdrew it in a a hurry. "Uh! Uh! That tasted nasty!"

I understood. "I just ate some huppa-fruit." I said. "You must have tasted that in my mouth. Shall I wash my mouth out and let yoo try again?"

"No, just let me get my mouth on something else that will taste better. Ah, like that!" He dove down and I was not surprised when he took my fertility arm in his mouth. A mekla-man's fertility arm is about a foot long and two inches in diameter, it filled his mouth very full. And my fertile fluids of course oozed out as my fertility arm mistook Bill-Danmark's mouth for a mekla-woman's egg-bearing sac.

But hoomans, I have learned, love the flavor of my fertile fluids. Bill-Danmark sucked off my fertile fluids as quickly as they generated. I let him do this for a time, then I pointed out, "If I am going to fuck yoo, I will need some of my fertile fluid to smooth the way inside yoo."

"Oh, oh, God, yeah!" Bill-Danmark moaned and he got down onto both arms and his legs were bent in the middle. Hooman legs are segmented halfway down, and he was resting on the knobs they have at that point. It didn't seem to hurt them, which was good, for they usually landed on those knobs when they fell over, I had noticed.

I let my fertile arm exude a good coating of fertile fluids, and then I said, "Now I will fuck yoo, Bill-Danmark."

And I pushed my fertile arm into the small opening he had exposed at the top of his legs. These hoomans usually used that opening to excrete wastes from their bodies, but if you wanted to fuck one of them, it was the opening you used. Another way hoomans are stoopid, we Meklans have separate openings for these two functions of our body, and can do both at once should we wish.