Dumb Name but Not DumbbyEgmont Grigor©
Fleetcloud Hippostein felt her long orange hair fluttering in the cold wind as she waited for the train heading to Grand Central Terminal. She was unsure whether it was a compliment directed at her when the man in a thick coat, scarf and navy gloves and a navy fedora said, "Nice tits"; the Tutor Computer had not covered that particular greeting - or was it a reprimand?
On the train she purchased a ticket for the 40-minute journey and was surprised she received back change when paying with a $50 bill but then as an alien she expected to be surprised by many things.
Fleetcloud was on a mission - to find a suitable man to impregnate her. The Statistical Analysis Profiles Computer had chosen Fifth Avenue, New York as the place inhabited by suitable males. She was specifically instructed not to succumb to the sexual advances of predatory females which had rather disappointed Fleetcloud as she'd wanted to have the widest possibly variety of sexual experiences as she planned to write a thesis on Sexual Relationships Pre & Post Ejaculation.
At Mission Control the theatre had been cleared of everyone except Fleetcloud when the 1617 film clips of the ways men had sex were screened, which included sex with other men, with their hand, chickens, fish and horses but women were by far the most popular recipients of men's semen.
Passing the time away in the train Fleetcloud fingered her vagina, still marveling at the sensuous feelings that gave her; she could not understand why the man seated beside her kept sniffing and watched bug-eyed at her probing fingers.
Princess Fleetcloud, from the Planet Owen, 700 miles from Earth, followed the instructions from the Travel and Routes Computer transmitted to the ring through her left nipple and took the exit on to 42nd. She and walked two blocks west to Fifth Avenue where she took a coffee break to merge in with the local population to avoid creating suspicion.
However, despite 7,000 years of technological development on Planet Owen, the scientists had still managed to get it wrong; they designed Fleetcloud to be 6ft 8in tall with orange hair and hanging her breasts on her back, an error corrected only hours before her 700-mile flight to Earth was scheduled to blast off.
The name Fleetcloud Hippostein was computer-generated and was supposed to be an amalgam of all the most popular letters in the names of New Yorkers but reshuffled to provide a name of greatest distinction – which it was, totally. However Fleetcloud already suspected her name was another foul-up as it did not contain the letter 'a'.
The ABC About Sex Computer had instructed her she didn't have to ask any male for sex as all males automatically knew she wanted sex – their only problem was finding out if they were the one, or whether she had a preference for a gang of five or some other excess. She had been advised to go for one-on-one and all she had to do was to stare, wink or purse her lips at her chosen male and he would smile, unzip and begin pulling his penis into full erection as he walked to her to insert it into the orifice she offered – in this instance it must be her vagina.
As she watched the people walking the sidewalks it dawned on Fleetcloud that there had been another computer foul-up – couples were not copulating en-mass; in fact she couldn't see even one couple doing it although some were walking hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm and she did see one man walking slightly ahead of his woman with his hand through the lower part of the woman's dress, which was unbuttoned; she was walking with her head thrown back, eyes closed and a beautiful smile on her face. That look she displayed was pretty amazing. Now the man had withdrawn his fingers and was sucking them, a smile coming to his face. Perhaps he would have the baby?
An unwashed man dressed entirely in black slipped into the seat opposite her and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "What are you on, baby?"
"Planet Earth," she replied, wondering why it was necessary to whisper.
"I have single pinks five for twenty, double pinks ten for eighty and star-stunners at one hundred each. Whatcha want babe and you can swallow my seven-incher no charge?"
"I'm afraid I can't understand you, Mister. Please speak English or fuck off."
Fleetwood beamed but that disappeared when he scowled and snarled 'Bitch!'
"My Etiquette Instruction Computer advises that is an inappropriate word to call a lady. Apologize or I've been ordered to call the Vice Squad."
Color drained from the unshaven face of the man who turned and fled.
Fleetcloud paid for her coffee with a $100 bill and the waitress looked pained and asked, "Don't you have anything smaller?"
"I can tear it in half if that's any help?"
"Bitch," breathed the waitress, stomping off.
Fleetcloud thought that inappropriate utterance was probably due to someone stressing the woman, so decided to let it go. As she reached the door the 5ft 3in waitress called "Ma'am?" and handed Fleetcloud a heap of money and focused on the coins. The Financial Information Computer urged Fleetcloud to pay a tip, so she gave the waitress the 80 cents in coins plus a $20 bill.
"Gawd," cried the waitress looking up at her towering benefactor with orange hair. I finish my shift at noon if you would like to come back and collect me them."
"Have a nice day," Fleetcloud cooed, disappointed that on this mission sex was confined to one male.
Along the street she saw a man standing outside a jewelry store, shuffling, looking in the store and checking his watch every few seconds. He appeared agitated. He looked elderly but Fleetcloud had been told age was of no consequence providing the male was still capable of firing sperm, the critical factor was his genes and by that the computer didn't mean his denim hip-huggers.
She winked at him and he looked surprised.
"Do we know each other?"
"I don't think so," she answered truthfully.
"I'm Pastor Philips," he said. "It is part of my mission in life to help save people like you."
"I'll let you save me in return for you impregnating me."
To Fleetcloud's dismay the man Philips ran into the store shouting "Miriam, Miriam!"
She walked on a little disappointed by near 45th Street a tall, dark and handsome man came out of a store and bumped into Fleetcloud, turning to berate her but his eyes widened in surprise as she was a good two inches taller than him. "Holy shit."
"What is it darling?" said his sweetheart, looking at the new friendship ring on her finger.
"Pardon me, I wasn't looking where I was going," apologized the man.
"I think you purposely bumped into me so we can have sexual connection," Fleetcloud said evenly.
"Daniel, what are you doing trying to pick up a prostitute right under my nose?"
"Don't be angry, Tammy. I almost knocked her off her feet, and anyway, one doesn't pick up prostitutes, they offer it uninvited."
"You are being unfaithful to me, Daniel," said the lovely young woman, bursting into tears. Daniel looked shocked and Fleetcloud knew intervention was necessary if she was to get his member into her vagina.
"There now, it was an accident," she said, touching Tammy's arm. Change in Tammy was instantaneous; she smiled, the tears had gone and even her make-up looked greatly improved.
"Are you hurt?" asked Tammy. "He's such a strong, heavily muscular brute."
"Strong? This is strong," replied Fleetcloud, forgetting instructions not to exhibit herself. She grabbed Daniel by his belt and with one hand lifted him until his belt was at her eye-level and then placed him back on the ground. The computerized rage coming to Fleetcloud through her nipple ring connection was close to becoming a self-generated virus.
People around them gaped then hurried off, some looking back quite anxiously. But as this was New York, New Yorkers are never surprised at anything they see, Fleetcloud correctly assumed the ones showing fear were tourists, probably non-American.
As Daniel's 25-year-old feet hit the pavement the 180 lb fitness trainer gulped and said "Jesus!" while Tammy eyed Fleetcloud adoringly and asked, "Can you teach me to do that?"
The Behavioral Coaching Computer had taken over instruction and ordered Fleetcloud to cross to the next block immediately and to leave these people alone.
"Goodbye," she said to Daniel and turning to Tammy said "Twin boys in fifteen months and twenty-three days from today. Mother and boys will do well; you'll make a great mom." Then she turned and strode away.
Traffic was moving over 5th but that didn't deter Fleetcloud. Crossing against the lights she nipped in front of two lines of yellow cabs, the cabbies nearest her honking and waving abuse. A black Lincoln Town Car was in her way so she leaped over it, clearing it easily, landing on the roof of a police vehicle from which she leaped on to the far sidewalk.
The two cops heard the thump and watched the orange-hair woman land safely on the footpath. They shrugged, deciding to finish eating their hamburgers rather than leave them to go cold while doing a booking, agreeing the dented roof might go for weeks before anyone noticed it and then nobody would know who to blame.
New York women watching Fleetcloud do those impossibly huge leaps wondered where she's gotten her hair done while New York men had only eyes for her bouncing boobs; tourists simply thought she was from a circus.
Fleetcloud accosted five other men but none was willing to dip his penis simply for her benefit. She unluckily hit five backdoor bandits in a row and of course she had to admit the menu was limited to frontal couplings which rather disappointed them so they lost interest. However that changed when she came out of Saks and heard a wonderful sound of a saxophone as she walked towards St Patrick's Cathedral.
But the young man finished and had started packing up as Fleetcloud reached him.
"I love the sax."
"And I love sex, but that doesn't mean I'm successful at either."
"Give me a go on your sax?"
"Yeah, if you give me a go with sex?" leered the guy.
He had the instrument out of the carry case in a flash, unable to believe his ears; his eyes were bulging looking at the glorious mass of her breasts.
"Here's you go," he said, handing her the sax and prepared to put his hands over his ears. What he heard was a perfectly executed piece of fingering that produced tonal quality straight from heaven as the Orange Head played 'Moon River.' Passersby on their way to Tiffany's paused to listen and the street musician's hat, still on the sidewalk beside his case, filled with coin and bills.
"Ohmigod, did you ever hear such wonderful playing – pity about the hair," said a New York matron dripping in Tiffany's finest product and carrying a lap dog which was peeing over her, being overcome by the music.
"Can you fuck as well as you can play the sax?"
"I'm not sure – it's my first time at both," Fleetcloud said, and looked so innocent the musician found himself unable to disbelieve her.
"Where can we go to do it?"
The musician, who lived forty minutes by subway plus a long walk, decided not to go that distance. Anyways, his wife was home with two screaming infants. "I know a good alley where only the brave venture. Are our brave?"
"I'm programmed not to feel fear."
"Good, come with me."
"Don't we do the preliminaries before we cum?"
"Please accompany me is what I meant."
As they entered the alley their way was blocked by five drunks fighting over a bottle of cheap wine. "Come on, we'd best go somewhere else. These guys are scum."
"No, I'll give them an identical bottle of wine each.
"Boys – here you are."
She handed out four bottles of wine. The musician, Sebastian, wondered where the hell they had come from and boggled when noticing they exactly replicated the bottle with the torn label being fought over.
"Thank you ma'am," said one of the street bums, after finishing coughing and spitting.
"Oh, you poor man; you're sick," she said, touching his hand. His sallow face turned a healthy pink, his stubble disappeared and looking at her in jubilation he cried, "What's happened to me. I can breathe through my nose again and I can smell?"
"You liar, what can you smell, Joe?"
Joe sniffed and said, "Her perfume and pussy."
"Come on," urged Sebastian, grabbing Fleetcloud by the arm and immediately feeling his penis go incredibly erect.
Sebastian's first penetration was to progress further down the alley but stopped, quivering in fear. A man in a pin-stripe, shiny black shoes, very dark sunglasses and a black hat pulled right down over his eyes blocked Sebastian's way, pointing a handgun right at Sebastian's pride and joy that was still tenting out.
Hearing a noise behind him Sebastian turned and saw a sinister accomplice dressed in torn jeans and a dirty white T-shirt with the logo of a heart and the words 'I Love Mugging New Yorkers' come out of a burnt out car body. He carried a butcher's knife and almost dropped it when Fleetcloud smiled at him and said "Hi" fearlessly.
"Cry and ask me not to hurt you, babe, or else I'll stick ya."
"Go beat your dick, you horrible man," snorted Fleetcloud.
"Boss, what do I do?"
"Slap her – both cheeks, hard and then I might let you cut her a bit."
The runty man lunged at Fleetcloud who twirled out of his way, allowing him to stumble forward and dig his knife into the thigh of his boss who, in shock, fired a round from his handgun into the shoulder of his accomplice. Both men, howling in pain, slumped to the ground.
"Ohmigod, they've killed each other," laughed the musician, but Fleetcloud said both would survive. "In an hour they will drag themselves out to the street where they will be carted off by the police and booked for playing with offensive weapons."
"You know that for sure?"
"I know that for sure."
They walked on.
"Let's go in through this door."
"We can't – it's the fire escape emergency exit of a bedroom furniture store," Sebastian said. "It's a heavy steel door that can only be opened from the inside and the building will be alarmed as all the staff would have gone for the day."
The door swung open and Fleetcloud went in calling him to follow. No alarms sounded. They stopped by a king size bed with a canopy.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, I mean no," Sebastian replied. "First I must get something straight. These things that have happened since you arrived at my side – they're just not normal. Nobody has ever played a sax so perfectly as you did. Then you produced those bottles of wine from nowhere and when the hood went for you, you spun out of his way so fast you were just a blur. And just now that steel door to this store swung opened and when we entered the door swung shut without you touching it and the lights in this room were already on. You're from some other world, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sebastian, but don't be frightened. I come from Planet Owen, which is 700 miles away and slowly rotates your Plant Earth so it's always on the dark side and is surrounded by a cosmos field that makes it appear invisible to you on this planet. I have been sent to become impregnated by an Earthmale to allow our scientists to study the baby when it is born nine days after conception..."
"Correction, Sebastian, nine days on Planet Owen. If the experiment is successful it will mean that are remaining population of 257, all females, will transport to Planet Earth to become impregnated, and return to Planet Owen to have their sons..."
"Sons and daughters."
"Sons, Sebastian and that will give us a population of 275 males and 275 females so that we can return to our controlled population of two million. Once the babies are born they will be accelerated in growth at the rate of 75 times the growth rate here to match the age of their partner and we will then continue our time travel as a much happier planet."
She lay on the bed and Sebastian licked his lips, looking at her perfectly shaped thighs. Fuck any more questions, he was getting into this. "Let's be seeing your pussy."
Her dress just disappeared along with her briefs and Sebastian's dick began firing simply with Sebastian looking at a magnificent pussy, plump and pink like a rosebud, not a hair or any stubble in sight – good enough to eat in fact.
She read his mind. "Would you like to eat pussy?"
The question made Sebastian's dick squirt all over her bra but she told him not to worry that she'd ensure he had more sperm than he could possibly ejaculate in 24 hours.
"Are we going to be fucking for 24 hours?"
"Just as long as it takes. I've disconnected my visualization ability in order to experience maximum enjoyment of what we are about to do."
Sebastian went down on her. The taste was exquisite – the secretions tasted like liquid honey and the odors were the smell of rose petals with just a hint of fish oil to keep the smell authentic.
She came voluminously, so much so that he felt energized and no longer feeling the need for a burger as he vacuumed up every drop.
The time came for insertion of his dick.
"Just a minute, I wish to kiss it for luck."
As the soft lips touched the tip his dick seemed to gain two inches in length and double in width. Sebastian grinned thinking you wanker, it's just wishful thinking, but when he palmed it to feed it in it was twice as thick as usual and with bath hands around it he could see it was a couple of inches longer.
"You may have a wish, for anything you want – anything – for performing this service."
"I'd like to be the best sax player the world has ever..."
"Careful, complete that wish and you'll be changed into a replica of me."
Sebastian thought about that for a moment but being a Good American guy he thought about his wife and kids and decided he couldn't opt out of their lives.
"I wish for my dick to remain in its present dimensions for the rest of my life – er, but only erect when I'm ready to fuck or be sucked."
"Your wish will be granted the moment I leave you."
Sebastian inserted his dick – the texture of her cunt being a mixture of velvet and the grip of a tight rubber band. The dazzling combination of that made him fire off two shots as soon as he entered.
And in a 'poof' she was gone and Sebastian found himself standing outside the cathedral packing away his sax.
"Fuck, someone must have slipped me a pill," he thought, shaking his head and thinking you can't trust anyone these days.
Then he stopped, frozen, looking at his hat. It was overflowing with money. In wonderment he pulled out the sax and stuffed the money into the case; it just fitted in and some bills were big denominations.
"Play us a tune, buddy," requested a man in a wheelchair.
"What would you like?"
"Oh, something old. 'Moon River.'
As soon as he began playing Sebastian knew it was sensationally good, not as perfect as Fleetcloud, but masterly all the same.
"Pull in beside me, buddy, put your hat on your lap," he said to the legless man in the motorized wheelchair. "Whatever is tossed into that hat during the next fifteen minutes is yours to keep."
"That will be fuck all," grinned the man. "But I admire your spirit."
"Likewise," said Sebastian, launching into 'Moon River.'
A crowd gathered and money pilled into the hat.
"I've time for one more – anyone with a request."
"After the Rain," called someone.
Sebastian was reluctant as he thought this was one of Coltrane's best and he didn't want to disfigure it.
"Come on – we're here to hear music."
Yeah, but the magic is only for 'Moon River' sighed Sebastian, wondering if this rendition would lead to a street lynching.
He started playing and the cops who'd arrived to book him were among those tossing money into the hat.