Slow Morning

Some of these brain slug cum sluts find a splooge-source they just can't get enough of! They try to drain their favorite cocks at every opportunity. Most men can't keep up with these insatiable cocksuckers!
—Slug Fucker Monthly, February 2055

"What I'm saying is that double penetration is a choice," Ha-Yoon said.

Mel nodded absently.

"Is it a choice you regret?" Mel asked, because he felt he had to say something. Though a part of him felt they were having two different conversations.

It was a slow morning. He was not sure how they had gotten onto this conversation. Jordan and Soong had met up and held hands the whole way to the Cosmic Fill-Up, but as soon as they got in, before they even signed in, Jordan had taken something out of her pocket and passed it to Blair behind the counter. Mel had recognized the condom he'd filled the night before.

What the hell is going on? Mel wondered to himself, as Ha-Yoon continued the discussion of the complex romantic situation she'd found herself in.

He had spent a chunk of last night reading the February issue of Slug Fuckers Monthly. The second magazine had been much like the first. Mel was pretty sure the same person or persons had written it. The sleezy tone, the language, the way it described the brain slug hosts as something between zombies and animals, but insisted they were horny and willing struck him as weird. Like the kind of horny he was in his dreams and fantasies. Yet the reality...

The reality is I've lived with Jordan eight days, and she's sucked my used tissues and licked my ejaculation off the sink, and just last night I jerked off in front of her, Mel thought to himself. That's not normal. Most normal people can probably go months or years without masturbating in front of their roommate. The question is, is it her fault, or mine? Or maybe both?

Weirdly, he couldn't shake the idea that this was all his fault. The idea had settled into him that maybe the brain slugs were still learning about how to interact with humans, and he had somehow corrupted Jordan with his porn. Which probably wasn't the case—how could this be the first time the Seacouver Hive had encountered Slug Fucker Monthly? Hadn't Ha-Yoon said they'd had issues with prostitution?—but it felt like somehow it was his fault. Jordan hadn't done anything sexual until Mel hadn't been able to keep his dick in his pants.

"No," Ha-Yoon said with a sigh. She looked longingly at the beers in the walk-in freezer. "I have room enough for both of them, in my heart, and—well. Elsewhere."

Mel gave a wan smile. "I guess I always thought that would be a good problem to have. I haven't had any real relationships yet."

"You're lucky you don't have to deal with two lovers making demands on you," the manager said, as she got up to go back to her office.

Mel's smile felt suddenly brittle.

He was sanitizing the food kiosk when he found the envelope. Plain white. Maybe a quarter inch thick. Filled with bills. Mel swallowed hard when he saw the dead presidents. It was...hundreds. A thousand, at least. Maybe more. More than he would get from his first pay. Enough for a rent payment or a car payment.

Mel held the envelope and thought of his bank account, down to double digits.

The walk to Ha-Yoon's office was easy, physically. Yet Mel could feel his heart hammer. Doing the right thing wasn't hard in the sense of climbing a mountain or slaying a dragon. But he wanted to do this before greed made him second-guess basic decency.

"Boss?" he said. Ha-Yoon looked up. "Found this by the Korean kiosk."

There was relief as he handed the envelope of cash to her. Ha-Yoon's eyes widened.

"Shitfuck," she said. But she smiled when she looked up at him. "Lost and found. Good job, red shirt."

Mel's smile was a little more natural as he went back to his duties.

It was afternoon when a worried-looking Amelia came in and checked the Korean kiosk. She was so upset she didn't even stare at Jordan, who was running the swifter in front of the alien food kiosk. Mel stepped out from behind the counter.

"Lose something?" Mel asked.

The pregnant Black woman turned to him.

"An envelope—" she said.

"I found it this morning. Manager's holding it," he pointed toward Ha-Yoon's office. Relief flooded Amelia's face. She gave him a smile.

"Thanks, human guy," she said, and turned away.

"Mel," he said, but she had already waddled off. His eyes fell to her buttocks, wider and fuller than Jordan or Soong's. Pants so tight he could see the outline of her panties through the black fabric. For some reason, that little wiggle stirred him. As he felt the inappropriate boner grow, Jordan looked up from her cleaning, nostrils flared. Mel hurried behind the counter, which would hide his inconvenient erection.

Once safe, Mel gave himself a mental pat on the back. Good deed done for the day. He glanced at Blair . . . and to his surprise, the tall, shaven-headed Black woman turned to look at him. Her eyes focused on him. Mel blinked. Her expression was still blank. She was taller, wider at the shoulders, and older, at least, he thought so. It could be hard to tell, but there were those nasolabial lines from her nose to the corners of her lips. The broad nostrils flared slowly, and Mel felt uncomfortably aware of the attention.

Can brain slugs actually smell when I get hard? It seemed absurd, but not unbelievable. As the blush spread across his cheeks, Mel remembered the hand-off that occurred this morning. Wondered what Blair was going to do with that. Or if she had already done it.

The silent brain slug host gave no answer. Amelia came up to the counter with a coffee, stuffing the envelope of cash into her purse, and Mel checked her out. When he was done, Blair had gone back to staring straight ahead. Nor did he catch her looking at him for the rest of his shift.