Make His Day

Ramen is best with clean water and fresh ingredients, but do the best you can with what you have.
—1,001 Ways to Cook Ramen

"How are you speaking to me?" Mel asked, facing those strange, deep eyeholes again. "And what is a rishathran?"

"Microwave auditory effect," Denis said, and Mel turned to look at him. "Aloa's species can emit modulated electromagnetic radiation. Really only effective at very close range, wouldn't work if you were across the room. At the correct frequency, you can 'hear' things without any actual sound being generated. Don't worry, it's quite safe. She does it to me all the time."

<<Rishathra,>> Aloa broke in, and Mel turned his attention back to "her." <<Is the practice of sex between humans and other sentient species. It was defined by a science fiction writer, Larry Niven, and adopted by members of the community in favor of more vulgar terms.>>

Mel thought of being called "slug-fucker." He nodded.

"Okay. That makes sense. Sorry if that was a rude question, sort of caught me off-guard. I don't think I've met or even heard of any of your species before."

Her lips moved. It was an approximation of a smile. Oddly calculated and artificial. Mel found the brain slug host's flat lack of expression was normal and comforting compared to that smile, though he couldn't say exactly why. Maybe because it was such a studied deception.

<<Only a handful survived the crossing to Earth,>> Aloa broadcast. <<We are called Electrovores by your scientists. It is as good a name as any.>>

"Aloa's species evolved on a planet with a very strong magnetosphere, like Earth," Denis said. "They don't do well in other environments. Terrible attrition rates. They're nearly extinct."

"Okay," Mel said. He turned to Aloa. "And, um, sorry if this is rude. Is that shell an encounter suit? Helps you navigate Earth's environment?"

<<In a manner of speaking,>> Aloa's voice came in his skull again. There was no accent, no affect that Mel could notice. He wouldn't have described the voice as masculine or feminine. <<We have no gender, in my people. When I encountered Denis, I defined myself as female. This form facilitates social interaction. It is anatomically accurate. Would you like to see my vagina?>>

Mel kept his expression as controlled as he could as curiosity warred with the social situation, which was that he was technically in public, at work, and wasn't sure if looking at her vagina would get him fired or not. He was pretty sure that normal people didn't get asked that question, and it felt weird that it happened to him twice.

"We don't actually use it," Denis quickly added. "It's just for visual appeal."

Mel turned to him. Curiosity got the better of him.

"I hope this isn't impolite," he said. "But if it's just cosmetic, then how do you have sex? I know brain slug hosts prefer oral, but that's because of their adaptation to human anatomy. How does it work with Electrovores?"

"Well, I should start with how we met," Denis said. "I'd always been rather adventurous when it came to sex. Tried everything in my late teens, men, women, transgender, sex dolls, everything except the petting zoo and the preschool, really. Naturally, the Exodus generated a lot of interest in rishathra. Scientists were looking for individuals willing to experiment. I volunteered."

<<Chaser,>> Aloa broadcast. <<I was his fourth extraterrestrial partner. My kind are so rare, and we are usually solitary except for purposes of reproduction. So I was interested in human coupling practices. After some discussion, the scientists arranged for us to visit one another, under observation. We discovered we were compatible in unexpected ways.>>

Denis nodded. "Yes. Electrovores have innate senses tuned for magnetic fields and electrical current, which makes them brilliant natural electricians and electrical engineers, but they developed those senses to help hunt their prey—part of their sustenance came from draining the neural electricity. Their mating behavior is an adaptation of their prey-behavior, pinning the other partner down and siphoning a bit of juice, then injecting their own impulses—it kickstarts a kind of parthenogenesis process in the captive, so that they generate a new member of the species, with characteristics determined by the information encoded in the impulses they transmit. Quite a lively pastime, as I understand it."

<<Sex and violence were innately entwined,>> Aloa broadcast. <<The weaker ones would sometimes be subjugated by a group and impregnated multiple times, held captive until unable to sustain another generation process. The development of electrical technology removed the necessity for such brutalities; batteries and generators made sustainment of our forms easy. Yet the cultural shadow of such practices remains. We find it difficult to interact with each other; we have no pair-bonding as humans understand it, except in legends of the Di-Pole Couple.>>

"I'd done some erotic electroshock stuff, so I thought maybe I'd be able to stimulate her a bit with a violet rod, maybe a car battery and some jumper cables," Denis said. "But that turned out to be a bad idea. Caused her to react violently. She started to feed on my neural electricity. The results were . . . explosive."

Mel stared at him. He looked intact. No scars that he could see.

"Like a taser?" he said, not sure how best to interpret that.

"Not precisely," Denis said.

<<It turns out that the current draw directly stimulated the pleasure centers of the human brain,>> Aloa broadcast. <<The fluctuation in his personal electromagnetic field was . . . intoxicating.>>

"We have to be careful with it, of course. Don't want to overdo things. But after the eggheads had their results, it was quite easy to see that we wanted to interact more, outside the experiment. Not just sexually, but socially. We've been dating for four and a half years now."

"Wow, that's all kinds of amazing," Mel said. He turned back to Aloa. "And you decided to be female? Started to, ah, present as such?"

<<It facilitates social interaction more easily.>> Aloa broadcast. <<Not everyone is as open-minded as Denis. And a female gender makes it easier to be in gendered spaces. And I rather enjoy having breasts.>>

She ran her hands over the front of her shirt, emphasizing a pair of rather large breast-like objects. Mel wasn't entirely sure what the true inner appearance of an Electrovore was like, and so how much of that was carefully molded silicone was a mystery.

"People find it easier when I describe Aloa as my 'girlfriend' or 'mistress,'" Denis added. "But we imagine you must be having your own issues, with your lovers the brain slugs."

"Girlfriends, yes," Mel said, and felt a little heat rise to his chest. "I hadn't really had any sexual experience before I met them, so maybe that was a part of it. All of this is new to me. Still exploring each other, how to be considerate. They seem to enjoy oral sex, so I've been trying to keep up my end with that, make sure it isn't all one-sided. I'm sort of amazed you both enjoy the . . . feeding experience together. Mutually."

The word sounded awkward, but Denis grinned wider.

"Well, you've probably noticed that I do a lot of the talking out in public," he said. "But when it comes to sex, I greatly enjoy being submissive. I've never had anyone who takes control in the way Aloa does."

<<It feeds my ancient predatory instincts,>> Aloa concurred. <<Denis is so helpless when I'm feeding. Aware, yet unable to resist as I make him ejaculate at will. It provides me with a deep fulfillment of a kind that would be irresponsible for me to enjoy with one of my own people. Like he is my little brood-generator.>>

She paused, and then.

<<Would you like to try it?>>

Mel hesitated. For once in his life, he was talking about sex and had no erection whatsoever.

"It's not that I'm not curious," Mel admitted. "But my girlfriends and I are in a committed relationship. No outside sexual contact without prior agreement. It wouldn't do to, um, pick up something and spread it around."

"Fluid-bonded," Denis said, with an approving nod. "This isn't sexual contact of the sort you're thinking of, though. No physical contact at all. Give him a taste, love. Make his day."

Mel didn't see what happened next. He only felt it. Every muscle in his body seemed to contract at once. Silver stars seemed to explode in his vision. A visceral, familiar biological reaction burst through him, an instantaneous eruption from the root of his being that shot through his prick and left a warm, runny sensation down his thigh that was a simultaneous sense of release and acute embarrassment, like his first nocturnal emission.

Jordan and Jenny's hands were on his shoulders before he could recover. They physically hauled him to his feet and dragged him towards the family bathroom. Mel didn't resist, face flushed, stain spreading on his pants. Denis was grinning like a madman, beyond amused. Aloa stared after him, the weird, wet, deep eyes catching his, and broadcast a single, faint word.

<<Delicious.>>

In the bathroom, the pants came off, and Jenny latched onto the white, sticky mess on Mel's thigh as Jordan stuffed his limp prick into her mouth and sucked hard to slurp the remainder out of his urethra.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know she was going to do that. She asked if I wanted to try it, and I said I had an agreement with you. I wasn't expecting them to just do that without asking. I'm sorry," Mel said, his bare butt pressed against the sink. Truly, sincerely apologetic. Sick to his stomach.

He was also pretty sure that there wasn't anything left, but Jordan was still slurping avidly at his prick. His heart, erratic as it was after whatever jolt that Aloa had given him, began to pulse faster. Jenny pushed her hands up his shirt, seeking and finding his nipples as her face closed in on him.

Her breath smelled like the aftermath. Mel had never dared to taste it, but he figured that had to be what was on her tongue, as she pushed it past his teeth. Between his legs, blood flowed into tissues that began to swell and stiffen under Jordan's insistent ministrations. He couldn't go again—not right away—but in that moment he didn't care that they were at work, on shift. Only that they didn't hate him for his inadvertent betrayal.

It didn't feel like they hated him.

Jordan grabbed his thighs with both hands and forced herself forward, taking him deep, not resting until her chin pressed into his sack, the whole of him captured in her mouth and throat. His nipples were stiff as little pink erasers as Jenny teased them, her hot breath and spit mingled with his own in a kiss that went on and on until he was dizzy, leaning back against the sink. Desperate biological signals ran through his body. Refresh. Reload.

When Jenny broke the kiss, he could only blubber, "I'm sorry—" but then she had his shirt up over his head, her lips attacking his stiff little nipples. He felt the gentle bite of small teeth, the lash of a tongue, hard suction that left him gasping in the unexpected intensity of the session.

Mel didn't try to hold back. When he unleashed, it was with a very unmasculine moan, Jordan pulling her face back hard until her lips tugged on his swollen glans, letting everything he let out pool on her tongue. She licked his slit, just to make sure she got it all, before she finally let him go.

He panted, sweaty, exhausted, pants around his knees.

Jenny fingerspelled: "O K."

Question, comment, or what that meant, Mel didn't know. He just pulled his pants up, head nodding carefully as he zipped and buckled.

Ha-Yoon was waiting. She had a small plastic card in her hand.

"They left this for you," she said. One eyebrow raised. "What happened?"

Mel took the business card. Horizon. Experience the Extraterrestrial. There was an address, an email, a phone number, social media handle, and a name. Denis MacArthur, general manager.

"The woman was an Electrovore. She . . . did something to me. I didn't ask her to do it. I think she ate a bit of my neural electricity? It caused me to ejaculate. Jordan and Jenny smelled that immediately and didn't want any of it to go to waste. Please don't fire me," Mel added the last bit as it occurred to him.

Ha-Yoon snorted.

"Get some electrolytes and then go clean out the grease trap," she said.

Mel grabbed a tallboy of Quench from the fridge. Bobbie checked him out. Her nostrils flared, and Mel gave a weak shake of his head as he popped the can and headed around to the back for what was the stickiest, nastiest part of his job. It was surprisingly people. Nobody surprised him with unexpected unsolicited orgasms. It did, however, give Mel time to think.

Denis and Aloa were proof that the kind of relationship Mel had with the brain slug hosts wasn't unique. He hadn't really thought it was. He had known since Slug Fucker Monthly that sex was possible, and humans were horny apes. So the idea of sexual relations wasn't weird in itself. The actual experience of meeting such a couple, however—was that what he looked like, with Jordan and Jenny? Is that how Molly would react when he finally introduced her to his other girlfriends?

Just thinking about that made Mel's palms itch. He didn't want to lose Jordan, Jenny, or Rachel because of Molly. He had told them he wasn't going anywhere, and he meant it.

Maybe it was time to show them.

It was payday. A quiet word with Ha-Yoon after he signed out. His palm across the charge plate to deduct a chunk of that which could have gone to ramen and electrolyte replacement, but was more of an investment in his own future. Jordan and Jenny waited for him as he came out, with a pair of bags in his hands.

"I bought three hoodies," he said. "So we'll each have one."

Which is why, a few hours later, Rachel arrived home from class and work to find Jordan and Jenny running around naked except for their new Cosmic Fill-Up hoodies. Mel handed Rache her own.

"This is for you," he said, unable to repress a smile.

"Well, thank you," she said. "And how was your day?"

Mel's smile broke.

He explained about Amelia and her proposal. Then meeting Denis and Aloa, and the incident that had caused an emergency trip to the restroom. Rachel said nothing, just listened to it all, her face flickering from a bemused smile to a concerned frown to an angry frown and back again.

"That," she said, "was a busy day."

She was sitting in her chair next to the couch, her fingers laced with Mel's. Jordan and Jenny were in their usual places. It was getting late, but Rachel seemed lost in thought, one finger idly tracing a spiral on the knuckle of Mel's thumb.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I was thinking . . . about sex," she said. Then raised her eyes. "With Jordan. I think I might be ready for that. It's not that I'm tired of watching, but listening to you talk about it makes me realize how much I feel like I'm missing out on these spontaneous sexual encounters. I mean, when you think about it, we've already kissed. We've had sex with the same guy. Gotten our pussies eaten right next to each other. There's really just one line we haven't crossed, and I . . . a part of me feels like maybe now is the time to cross it."

Mel didn't know what to say to that. Jordan, however, stood up and undid the zipper of her hoodie to expose a pale expanse of cleavage and smooth stomach that ran straight down to her shaved labia. Rachel squeezed Mel's hand and then stood up. She pulled off her sweater and undershirt in one smooth move, to stand there in just her bra and jeans.

"So . . . how do we do this?" she said, unable to keep the nervous excitement out of her voice.