Dibs

Ramen is best when shared with those you love.
—1,001 Ways to Cook Ramen

Pssssssssst.

The frost was spreading out from the punctured chamber. Mel's breath came out in frosty gasps, sucked toward the hole in the hull. Water flowed around the splayed toes of his foot, and he tried to avoid touching anything metal with his gnarled, four-fingered manipulator.

In the black, mirrored surfaces of the broken screens, Mel caught hints of his appearance, oddly skewed. The dark, vermillion skullcap; a scrawny caricature of the humanoid form. The tool harness jangled on a body of delicate fibers corded into strong, rope-like tendrils, tensing and releasing to drive himself forward through the freezing water, oxygen levels dropping with each step.

The other chambers were all sealed; the occupants safe. All except the one at the far end, the one nearest the outer hull. Its heavy door hung askew, and Mel braced himself as he moved forward, a small white form flashing out of the corner of his vision. He pulled the door open and saw the aching emptiness, the occupant lost, the stars spinning outside. A terrible sense of loss filled Mel, a loss for something or someone he could not name.

"Hurry," a voice chirped in his ear, the implant connected directly to the ship's system. "We're losing atmosphere."

He maneuvered the heavy patch into place. A rare-earth magnet, with a fringe of steel, that he began to weld in place using a hand tool. A rad meter clicked; the reason they couldn't send anyone else. This cosmic accident had already cost them dearly. That aching loss grew as the temperature slowly stabilized, oxygen levels rising. Not a perfect fix. Later, he would have to go on a spacewalk, patch the other side. It wasn't even clear if this ship would survive re-entry, but...

...Mel saw now what he had missed earlier. What had been drawn on the inside walls of the pod. Dark images scored and scratched by hand. Half-familiar faces, bodies of bisymmetrical humanoids with five fingers. Mel stared at his hands. The fibers began to unbind, rework themselves. The strong pincers and manipulators reshaping themselves into something else. Four fingers and an opposable thumb.

Except that was impossible. They weren't supposed to be conscious in the pods. Stuck alone, they would go mad . . .

Jordan shook Mel's shoulder. He blinked awake and looked where she pointed. Jenny was stiff, rigid, eyes burning beneath her eyelids, even her brain slug a lurid transparent green as bright as a nightlight. Her face was twisted in a primal mask of pain, mouth open as if caught in a scream, but the only thing that came from her throat was a kind of high-pitched, garbled hiss, so soft that Mel couldn't have heard it if he wasn't right next to her.

Immediately, Mel started to rub Jenny's arms, to pull her close. Yet it reminded him once when he had strayed in his biology class and tried to hug the plastic skeleton that hung in the corner. The utter lifeless lack of response. Except Jenny was warm, present, here—and, obviously, suffering.

Mel didn't know what to do except hold her.

Jordan came back to bed with something in her hand. Mel wasn't sure what was going on until she untied his fundoshi and slid her hand between their bodies to slip the condom over his morning wood. Jordan's eyes glowed as she pressed her hands against Jenny's body—and where she touched, the stiffness relaxed, if only for a moment.

Is she . . . overriding Jenny's brain slug? Mel wondered. He had never thought that one brain slug could command or control another, yet Jenny was still clearly out of it, eyes tightly shut, the whites glowing beneath the lids so that he could see the veins. Most of the naked woman remained with muscles contracted, unnaturally tense. Yet he didn't know what else to do. So he hung on to Jenny, and Jordan, one touch at a time, slid the other brain slug host's legs open, lifted her up, and guided the naked young woman onto him.

Jenny was relaxed, and Mel slid in easily, but as soon as Jordan's hands moved away, the muscles locked in place. Mel's eyes watered immediately at the impossible tightness, squeezing hard. Not trying to push him out, but contracting her vagina as tightly as possible. He felt the pulse throb in the big vein within his trapped member, each heartbeat fighting against the terrible pressure.

Not sure what else to do, Mel ran his hands down Jenny's bare back. Found her buttocks and squeezed gently.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's okay. You're safe. Jordan and I are here . . ."

He wasn't sure if it was working, except that Jenny's breathing changed. Her eyes, which were moving beneath the closed lids, seemed to focus. Mel decided the stimulation was working. Jordan saw it too. Laid her hands on Jenny's shoulders and closed her eyes. Not trying to override this time. Maybe just talk? Mel didn't know, and couldn't really ask, not in the dark with both hands full of ass, a naked brain slug host in his lap.

So he did what he could.

Thrusting wasn't really possible. Instead, he rocked back and forth on the bed. Just a little bit of movement, but that stimulation was more than nothing. His hands didn't stop, moving slowly up and down from her buttocks to her lower back and down again. Mel could feel Jenny's little nipples grow hard as they brushed against his chest.

The kiss was tentative. Her mouth was still wide open, locked in an almost-silent scream. Mel's lips touched the very corner of her mouth. A shudder went through her body. He kissed her again, at the corner of her jaw. Felt his own body grow warm as he continued to move, the slow, familiar build-up starting inside his body, the gradual excitement rising as he moved, his hips shifting back and forth, his kisses spreading down her neck and then up again, to kiss the lobe of Jenny's right ear.

It wasn't like a dam breaking. There was no sudden moment when Jenny came out of it. Yet as Mel moved, the muscles inside the pussy began to move with him. Releasing and contracting. Her body began to grow hot, the little sound she was making petered out, and her mouth closed. Little by little, the tension eased, until her eyes fluttered open and she was breathing, deeply and evenly, face the placid mask he'd come to recognize as her resting expression. Her upper body sagged against him, chin over his shoulder, while her lower body tensed and relaxed, moving with them, prick beginning to slide in and out now.

There was a jangle of cans. Jordan slipped off the bed. Jenny was moving more now. Not making sounds, but pushing her hands against Mel's shoulders. He went with it, letting her press him into the mattress. Moving her body into a more comfortable position as she began to gyrate her hips. Head high, losing herself in that moment as Mel moved his right hand around to her front, his thumb running down her crotch until he found the little ridge of her clitoral hood.

Her mouth opened again, but the tiny sound that came out this time wasn't the silent scream of before. Just a little gasp, and her nails dug into his shoulders, her buttocks moving faster now. She wasn't much for the thrust or pump, Mel realized; she was focused on the grind, her hips pressing against his and rarely making a lot of in-and-out contact, rubbing her labia against him, squeezing his hardness as her breath came faster, not in the panic of before but in eagerness, rising anticipation.

The final gallop was nothing like anything Mel had experienced. Jenny's hips slammed against his in a series of short, powerful, impossibly fast grinding thrusts that had her gasping for air, sweat dripping off her body, lost in a race with her own body and Mel holding on for dear life, one hand on her hip and his thumb trapped hard between his crotch and hers. His own ejaculation came midway through, a surprise grunt as he was unable to hold it, but Jenny didn't even notice, panting as she finished herself riding him.

Until she hovered over him, sweat dripping onto his face. Her mouth, this time, was soft and warm, the kiss tender, and Mel closed his eyes instinctively.

"Dibs."

Mel's eyes opened, and he turned his head to the side. In the doorway were Béibhinn, dressed in boyshorts and a sports bra, and Rachel, who had on her hoodie and jeans, sipping a coffee.

"On the condom," Béibhinn clarified.

Jenny didn't object. She kissed Mel again, and then sort of collapsed sideways. Jordan was there, standing beside the bed, and began running her hands down the other brain slug host's body, massaging arms and legs. Mel rolled off the opposite side and pulled off the condom. Rache smirked as she stared at the naked, sweaty Mel stood up and handed Béibhinn her breakfast.

"So . . . walk?" he said with an awkward smile.

On the street, there was more evidence of spring. Or maybe it was just Mel being more aware of the birds nesting in odd places, small green shoots rising up from odd dirt-filled cracks in sidewalks, trees beginning to flower.

"Have fun with Jordan and Jenny last night?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over Rache's knuckles, their fingers entwined. "I was already asleep by the time Jordan and Jenny came back over."

"It was . . . different," Rache said, and though he couldn't tell exactly in the dim morning light, he thought her cheeks burned. "I told you I've been tying my ankle to the bed before I go to sleep. Last night, I was feeling frisky. Experimental. So I outlined this idea I had, a fantasy. They tied my arms and legs to the bedposts and then played with me."

Mel blinked. "But if they tied you down like that, you can't move."

"That's the idea," Rache said. "It's a way of surrendering control. Or maybe just not being able to retreat or run away. Jordan actually took out my razor and shaved my armpits! Jenny was more focused on my pussy. I know you've been learning a few things from those videos, but they've been watching, too. Her tongue was eager. Not quite the same as yours. She was really teasing me, going very fast, and then just when I was about to cum, she'd pull away, tease my nipples, lick my armpits. Jordie was rubbing herself all over me. I never in my life thought I'd see my own sister hump my tits, try to stuff one of my stiff nipples in her cunny. It was fun. Exciting. By the time they finally let me cum, I was gagging for it."

"Wow," Mel thought, imagining the scene. He wondered how 'stasia got any sleep last night, which made him think about how he hadn't seen her in a day or two. She would probably like to hear about the dreamsinging and the Rhizomat; that whole scene with the body they had budded off for a brain slug seemed right up her alley.

"And what about you?" Rache said. "What about your little date night with Béibhinn? You sure seemed randy enough with Jenny this morning?"

"It wasn't a date," Mel said. "And the thing with Jenny was something else. She's been having bad dreams or something. Really night terrors stuff."

He saw Rachel frown as leaf-shadows dappled her face.

"Tell me."

So he told her about how Béibhinn had asked him to just, well, use her. The surprise when he asked to eat her out at the same time. How she responded, the weird spasm at the end, the shocking little revelation.

"I think," Mel said. "She was telling the truth earlier, when she said she likes girls. I mean, she had a dental dam on hand, so she had to be ready for safe sex. A lot of her experience with guys must be through a gloryhole, just for dietary purposes. I think it surprised her that I wanted something more than just stuff myself inside of her."

"Well, that's sweet," Rache said as they came to the darkest part of the woods. "But what about Jenny?"

Mel told her about his dream, again. How it had shifted over time, from the toilets at the orphanage to what must have been a spaceship. His own reflection and hands so alien. Then waking up and finding Jenny like that again, not sure how to handle the situation, letting Jordan guide them. Rache, who had only seen the end of it, remained very quiet, not even asking any questions.

"Dreams," she said, and reached up to scratch her neck, but pulled her hand away at the last moment. "Your dreams, my sleepwalking, Jenny's night terrors that require a good hard dicking to calm down. That can't all be coincidence, can it?"

"I don't know," Mel confessed. "Maybe it is? I mean, I've had weird dreams since I moved in with Jordan. You used to sleepwalk. Neither of us knows what Jenny was like before, but I know Antonio's attack was traumatic, and who knows how much trauma the hive mind has passed down through its shared memories. Maybe this is just . . . us sorting stuff out. Processing things in our sleep."

"Maybe," Rachel said, as they emerged onto the sidewalk. She didn't sound convinced. Neither, if he was honest, was Mel.

"I don't know what to do about it," he admitted. "Except maybe ask Jordan and Jenny. If it's a brain slug thing, they're the experts."

Rachel nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. They walked in silence, lost in their own thoughts for a space.

"Do you think you might like to tie me down, sometime?" Rache asked, as he held open the door to the apartment building for her.

"I can try," he said. "Although we'll need to talk about specifics. That's all new to me."

She smiled. "It's new to me, too. That's the fun of it. Experimenting. Exploring. Together."

"Well, I'm game if you are," he said.

They kissed in the hallway and broke apart.

He needed to stretch. Shower. Dress. Get to work.

The sun broke over Seacouver. Mel Arkwright welcomed the light, chasing away the darkness, and wondered what the day would bring.