Date: Thu, 25 Jan 2007 16:36:22 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: "Stoopid Hoomans"

			      STOOPID HOOMANS
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

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.

Bill-Danmark keened like a hungry hepabadimani when I pushed my fertility
arm in. I knew that this sound meant that he was enjoying the feel of it,
for I was stretching his opening out very wide and there were inside him
two small nodes that, if rubbed by my fertility arm, would send him into
sexual excitement.

So I naturally aimed my fertility arm directly at these two
nodes. Bill-Danmark gasped when my fertility arm found it. "Oh, God, it's
like you're fingering my prostate!" he groaned. "How do you do that?"

"My fertility arm is an arm, like my other arms." I explained. "I have full
ability to move it as I choose, as if it were a leg. Yoo have seen how
agile our legs are."

"Oh, God, yes!" Bill-Danmark agreed. "Shit, I'm about to come already!"

I knew that hooman word. "So come." I said. "It is why we are doing this
and it will not bother me."

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, oh, oh, oh, HAH-GAHHHH!" And Bill-Danmark squirted
his white, salty-smelling seed onto the floor below us.

Meanwhile, my fertile fluid was thoroughly coating his inside. Now I could
use it to press his body in any way that would please him. After a half
dozen such encounters with hoomans, I had a good idea of what to do.

Bill-Danmark lay and moaned helplessly as my fertility arm stroked his
insides, arousing him yet again. "Oh, God, I'm getting hard again." he
grunted.

"But of course." I said. "When a mekla-man makes love to a hooman, the
hooman usually experiences multiple orgasms, spread only a few minutes
apart, the entire time we are making love."

"And how long do you do it?" Bill-Danmark panted. "Geez, that is doing it
for me! Oh, God, I'm hard again and dripping!"

"How long?" I said. "Why, the entire night long, of course."

"Oh, Jeez!" Bill-Danmark whinnied.

"That nickname is much like the first one." I said. I reached down and
picked him up. "But yoo cannot be comfortable on this floor, I know. Let me
carry yoo to the bed."

And of course, while I carried him, my fertility arm continued to stimulate
him, and he came again in my arms before I put him on the bed. This time,
his sperm spattered my chest as he muffled his groans into my shoulder,
sucking out my skin's juices to further inflame his desire.

On the bed, I rested his body on top of two of my legs, letting the supple
skin there cushion and stroke him as I sent pulses through them. My third
leg, I brought up and used it to help my hands feel his body all over,
giving him a muscle-toning and relaxing regimen that sent his desire into a
fury.

"Oh, man, I am coming again!" he gasped, and he shot another wad. "Oh, God,
how can you do this to me. Where is all the sperm coming from?" Another
more than one word for the same thing! But I understood.

"Your body has gone into high production, when I inserted my fertility
arm." I explained. "Our hormones are compatible in that way, so yoo are in
a heightened state of mating rut."

"But what about you?" he asked me. "Aren't you going to come?"

"I already am." I assured him. "My joy is more spread out than yours, while
yoo experience brief but intense moments, I experience a continuous state
of pleasure. The more pleasure I feel, the more fluid I produce, and the
more I produce, the more I feel."

"Oh, yeah, oh, yeah!" Bill-Danmark moaned. "Now I see why Charley told me
to go for it. God, I know I never want this to stop, ever!"

"It would not have to." I explained. "Though it would mean your coming to
my village to live, and for the two of us to have some way to feed and care
for ourselves while we continued our unending mating. But do not fear, when
the morning comes, I will withdraw myself and end this for both of us."

"Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, oh, GUH-GAH, HERE I COME AGAIN,
GOD-UH-HUH-GUH-HUH-UH!"

As he always did, as all hoomans did when they ejaculated, his body's
muscles constricted on my fertility arm, and that fooled my body into
thinking the female's egg-sac had clasped and sealed itself about my
fertility arm, and so urged my body to increased production of fertile
fluid, it must fertilize all the eggs in the sac before the female would
let me go! We mekla-males all produced fertile fluid quickly at such times,
for a female kept too long in mating lock and growing hungry could and
would eat the male. They are so much larger than us, after all. Another
reason I sought my pleasure at the settlement of the stoopid hoomans
instead of at the mekla-woman's home up in a thick contha-tree.

So I kept Bill-Danmark orgasming over and over again, throughout the
night. When morning finally came, I removed myself, and he collapsed onto
his bed, muttered a few words of gratitude, and promptly fell sound asleep,
utterly exhausted. I looked at him and smiled kindly. Hoomans may dream of
everlasting love with a mekla-man, but none of them could ever survive such
a mating if the mekla-man didn't interrupt it as I had. We are kind, we
Meklans, towards our small hooman colony, they are stoopid, but very useful
in so many ways. Such as now, as I felt my money pouch full of parics as I
walked back onto the street.

"Ho, Dakit!" came a voice I knew.

I looked and yes, it was the mekla-man named Pichith. "Ho, Pichith." I
returned. "Have yoo spent the night here as well?"

"Yes, I did." Pichith said. "I brought in an old worn-out mending-stick,
and I sold it for three hundred parics to a hooman who was angry at losing
out on a bidding a short time before. Was that yoo he bid for?"

"It was." I nodded. "These hoomans are so odd. They pay us outrageous sums
for even our most worthless items, all so they can then entice us to come
home with them as a guest. And then, what do they do? They mate with us,
even though they cannot produce young with us, and so they repay us with
pleasure which they take as pleasure for themselves. Now I walk about, a
mekla-man safely drained of my fertile fluids so that no mekla-woman will
snatch me up and bind me to her until she has finished fertilizing her
egg-sac. And on top of that, I have a nice amount of parics to let me buy
things of joy and beauty for myself. Then when I run out, I need only
snatch up anything and return here to do the same all over again! Isn't it
incredible?"

"Very incredible." Pichith agreed. "And there's only one
explanation. Hoomans are completely and irreversibly stoopid. If they were
smart, they would make us pay to release our fertile fluids in them and so
save our lives, most likely."

"It is true that the hoomans are stoopid." I agreed. "But we are fortunate
indeed that they are so stoopid. Otherwise, that mekla-woman nearby would
surely have sent out her web-line and pulled one or both of us up into her
home as we tried to walk by and us filled with fertile fluids as we
were. But for the next fortnight, until our fertile fluids replenish
themselves, we can live safely in our village even with all its
mekla-females."

"That is true." Pichith said. "So let us salute them. Thank you, stoopid
hoomans!" he said to the hooman settlement now behind us.

"Thanks, stoopid hoomans!" I added myself.

And we sidled off back to our homes to live, until we would next need the
hoomans' help to live a long and happy and very, very prosperous life.

				  THE END
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