Third One, Not a Charm

Story inspired by this photo of a woman stretching on top of a mountain.

Pictonaut short story effort for May 2014.

Hoi-heya, Yoga Chick…

Number three. Human being. Earthite ancestry, third generation. Diminutive. Still in adolescence. Cosmetically attractive in line with the specie-specific conventions.

Easy, easy, easy, thought Vihshean Lurr. Three down, three to go no trouble.

Extra confidence kick from the setting, as well. The Keplersixtwovian Alps were so picturesque in the morning. Nice mood milieu for the moment. And she was here all alone in the wilderness, practising her alluring stretches way out far away from the nearest habitation.

She also, apparently, hadn’t heard him say hello. Vihshean Lurr leaned back, thrust his pelvis forward and hauled out that clunky icebreaker again…

Hoi-heya, Yoga Chick…

She heard him that time. She stayed in position, leg raised vertical up to the sky, but she twisted her head. Lurr saw her curious face in profile against the stunning backdrop and felt the inner throbbing.

Lordgods, this one’s a beauty, flashed through his mind and he snaked out his fork-tongue and excitedly moistened purple lips in anticipation.

Down inside his glands stirred and started to secrete the pheromones ready to disperse right around his body and exoskeleton.

Vihshean Lurr started to feel hot heat.

She, however, was looking cold.

What? Yah, what? Who the fush are you and how the fush did you get up my mountain?

Whee oh! Pacify, pacify self, my humane beauty! he replied, attempting to reassure his surprised prey. Have no need for hostility, for I have come with boon, babe. I bring you love. Share with me?

But his soothing words did not impress her. Uninvited stranger on my mountain, interrupting my morning yoga, the young human said in frosty tones. Offworlder, I do not appreciate this…

Heya, Chick, come now! Pacify!

Pacify? I was pretty pacified when I was relaxed and doing my yoga in peace before some snick-assgrick manifests outta the elements and calls me ‘Yoga Chick’. Ack!

She lowered her leg down from 180º to the floor, span and dropped from her boulder with swift poise. Before Lurr could say anything else she was pacing right up towards him and eyeballing his leering lenses with unnerving intensity.

What are you doing here, grick-boy? Answers, please. You said you’re in a sharing mood…

Lurr let out a lusty chuckle that reverberated on his nasal chords. Ah, ah, ah, Chick, spirit I like!

Her expression explicitly showed that she did not like, but he chuckled on regardless.

See, human female! I bring you the boon and love to share. You are honoured to be of the chosen, chosen for me Vihshean Lurr as I pass my maturing rites.

Maturing rites? she repeated, raising small, sceptical brows.

Maturing rites for all males of the virile Brardoran race, and you are my third of the required six.

Lurr had thought the custom was famous throughout the galaxy, but her confused face suggested otherwise. What? I’m third of six what?

The seductions, Yoga Chick! he laughed aloud whilst thrusting his pelvis closer to her person. Six interspecial encounters and then, by Lordgods, the juvie Brardoran has experience enough to stand tall among the matured, status esteemed.

I don’t believe it, the human said.

Believe and pacify, female! My role to fulfil, I embrace you and gift you the love of the Brardoran.

Lurr smiled, the pheromones pumping out of his pores and dancing around his exoskeleton.

The young human, meanwhile, grimaced with revulsion.

Brardor slime-krank, real? Honestly, real? You’re insane if you think I want anything to do with your love…

But the Brardoran kept on with his echoing chuckle and swaggered forward, his pelvis oscillating even more widely.

Hoi, hoi, ha Yoga Chick! So hot with your temper! It makes for galvanising vitality after the docile Miranite Whitelion who was my number two. Now, share…

She kicked him hard in one of his two exposed groins, then span and roundhouse-kicked him in the other one for a sharp one-two blow.

Lurr let out a rolling deep groan as his numerous limbs reached for the afflicted erogenous areas, some of them getting caught in his exoskeleton in the process. He had no expected any such pain on his passage to maturity.

Hoi, hoi, hoi! he howled. You hurt me! Human female, what is the reason, aaaaaaaack, what is the reason?

You need to ask? Real? she spat out in reply, and turned on her heels to head back towards her yoga boulder.

Where go you, Yoga Chick? What is the reason? Come! My role to fulfil, you my number three! Desperation was creeping into Lurr’s voice. Come! Come, share…

I’ve shared enough with you, offworlder. Get the fush off my mountain and go sleaze on somebeing else. Ideal, not somebeing who’s in the middle of their morning yoga session.

The human woman took three deep breaths and raised her left leg 180º again. Feeling ignored and absolutely undermined, the smarting Brardoran bawled aloud again.

Yoga Chick! But no! It is an insult to Vihshean Lurr! It is an insult to the custom of the proud Brardoran race! You must share my love!

No, I must not, came the dispassionate reply followed by a posture shift into what had become known as the ‘Titanian Tree Stance’.

Lurr shook, his body shuddering with denial and abject disbelief. His pheromone cloud dissipating, fear-splinters started to prickle on his exoskeleton.

No! No! My number three! I will be a figure of disgrace! I will stand as a disappointment to my fathers if I do not fulfil my six seductions?!

The Brardoran lifted his head to find the woman looking directly at him, one leg raised horizontally with her palms together before her chest.

Yah, offworlder, you are definitely a disappointment, she sighed, a hint of pity in her voice. It just makes me so sad that there are still creatures like you porting all over the galaxy clinging onto ass-grick-assbrained ancient customs, all up on your bogus benevolence and self-entitled sexual predator shtunk…

Vihshean Lurr moved to protest and plead for his proud race and their great rites but the woman would hear none of it.

Brardoran, it’s the 23rd century. You and your fathers need to align yourself to the enlightened ways of the wider universe…

She looked at his flaking exoskeleton, splinters falling away as its owner suffered a complete nervous crisis of self-esteem and self-identity.

Yaaaaah, she wondered aloud. Maybe you should try yoga…

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2 Comments

  1. Really fun story, I enjoyed it 🙂 I’m glad the girl wasn’t having any of it!

    Reply
  1. Pictonaut Short Story Challenge: ‘Third One, Not a Charm’… | ENTER... JAMES CLAYTON

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