I Absolutely Insist You Stare At My Pussy

Given their focus on smell and taste, it should come as no surprise that brain slug hosts quickly took to oral sex. It is by far their most common sexual practice. Potential partners should keep their genitalia clean, preferably shave off pubic hair that can retain odors, and refrain from masturbation or sexual contact with others for one to three days before allowing a brain slug host to engage in oral sex with them. The smell of other sexual partners is displeasing to brain slug hosts. While relatively open about performing oral sex on others, brain slug hosts refrain from receiving oral sex except from their most trusted sexual partners.
—How To Talk To Brain Slugs, Chapter 3: Taste

The traffic was a disaster. Bumper to bumper. Major accidents, rush hour, and a water main break had conspired to give Seacouver the traffic equivalent of a heart attack. Instead of sitting on a bus for hours to get back to the apartment building, Rachel followed Mel into the Cosmic Fill-Up. She blinked as she took in the vaguely retro sci-fi aesthetic, the blue-shirted brain slug hosts Bobbie and Blair behind the counter, the smell of coffee and sanitizer fluid.

Ha-Yoon emerged from the bathroom, swifter in hand, and stopped cold when she saw Rachel. Mel made the introduction.

"This is Rachel, Jordan's sister," he said. "Rachel, this is Ha-Yoon. My boss."

The two women shook hands while eyeing each other in a way that reminded Mel of boxers before the bell. Not that he thought they were going to throw hands, but they kept a respectful distance, their eyes evaluating each other. Ha-Yoon grinned, as if she had won a bet with herself, then turned to Mel.

"A pleasure. Mel's told me so much about you. I hope Jordan is doing well," Ha-Yoon said. Before Rachel could answer, the Asian woman turned to Mel and pressed the swifter into his hands. "I need to head home early for a bit. Autumn says something is stuck in her urethra, but won't go to the emergency room. You're in charge. Don't let the place burn down and no hanky-panky!"

She winked with such **** that Mel winced and blushed. Rachel raised an eyebrow as the manager left.

With that, she was gone. Rachel waited until the doors were closed before turning on Mel.

"What did you tell her!?" she hissed.

Mel explained as he cleaned. Bobbie and Blair handled the counter. A couple of customers lingered, either because their electric cars were recharging or because they had no desire to go out into the traffic. Amelia was one of them, sitting in the eating area and sipping a coffee while reading something on a tablet. Rachel, with nothing else to do, wandered around the store as Mel went about working his way down the checklist of normal things that needed doing on the job. He was just emerging from the freshly-sanitized women's restroom when he heard the scream.

"Human guy!"

The cry was ****, the voice of pain. Mel turned to see Amelia standing, barely holding herself up. Her maternity pants were soaked, the enormous distended abdomen hanging out entirely.

Something told Mel this wasn't Braxton-Hicks.

"The baby," she said, brown eyes wide and ****. "It's coming!"

"I thought you were being induced tomorrow!" Mel said. Rachel, who had been browsing the magazine rack, came to see what the fuss was about. Her eyes went wide when she saw the huge pregnant belly, the water, and the way Amelia clung to Mel's arm.

"Babies can't read schedules!" Amelia gasped.

"We need to get her to a hospital, now," Rachel said.

Mel glanced out the glass front doors. The cars on the street hadn't moved. No way an ambulance was going to get through.

"Blair!" Mel shouted. "We need towels, latex gloves, wet wipes, distilled water, now!"

The brain slug host, to its credit, did not hesitate. It emerged from behind the counter and immediately went to gather items from the shelves. Mel stepped forward and grabbed Amelia's arm as a contraction went through her. Pink painted nails dug into his forearm, and she sagged against him, leaning her entire weight into his body as her legs threatened to give out.

"Ever delivered a baby before?" Amelia asked, desperately.

"No," he said. "You?"

"It's my first," she said, as Blair arrived with armloads of supplies. Mel glanced at Rachel, who shook her head and kept her distance.

"Come on," he walked Amelia toward the women's room. Rachel and Blair followed close at their heels. "I just sanitized it. Cleanest part of the whole place."

Within minutes, Rachel and Mel had a little nest on the floor for Amelia to lie on. They were gloved up. Blair stood at the entrance, awaiting further orders. Amelia glanced nervously at it.

"It's alright," he told Blair. "We'll call if we need anything."

"We need to take off her pants," Rachel said.

Mel nodded. That was definitely a logical step one. He looked into Amelia's brown eyes.

"Is that okay?" he asked.

She nodded.

It was not how Mel had imagined taking a woman's pants off for the first time. His gloved hands peeled away the stretchy pants. Rachel hung back to give him space to work. Amelia bit her lip, sweating, nervous. She quivered as he lifted her up to drag pants and panties off of her ass in one go.

That was when the smell hit him. That faint hint of jock strap and ammonia. Mel looked down between Amelia's legs and saw the protuberant labia, larger and darker than Jordan's or Soong's. Something white and sticky oozed and dripped onto the towel out of the hanging lips.

"S-sorry," Amelia grinned. "This is really embarrassing. I had a client and—he paid extra—"

Mel didn't have a response to that, so he removed Amelia's shoes so he could finish removing the laboring woman's pants. Then he reached for a wet wipe.

"Mind if I clean this up a little?" he asked.

"Please," she said, grinning in what was probably terminal shame. No, not shame. Mel wasn't sure what the emotion was. Amelia's face was a tight, nervous grin, her pupils dilated, her stomach so taut it looked like it was about to pop.

It was the first time Mel had touched a pussy. The warmth of it shocked him as he carefully wiped away at the shaven crotch. There was, he was glad to see, no blood yet.

Amelia sat there, legs up, her lower half exposed, shirt tucked under her breasts. She was breathing in and out, not entirely uncontrolled, but with more than a hint of panic. Mel got an idea.

"****. Can you get her tablet? She left it on the table," he said.

Rachel blinked, shifted focus from the other woman's crotch to his face. A wordless question was evident in her expression.

"Internet. There has to be a video for how to handle a home birth," he said. "Or at least some way to time the contractions."

It was almost as simple as that. They propped the tablet up where Amelia could access it with her right hand. Mel was on his knees, staring between her legs, ready to play catcher. His heart hammered in his chest, palms sweaty in the latex gloves, and he remembered as a younger teen going through the art books in the library in search of porn and finding Gustave Courbet's L'origine du monde. It had stirred something in him, the glimpse of the forbidden. Now, it stirred something else.

Amelia saw it, too. Looking over the curve of her own big brown belly, down where Mel's shirt was tucked into his pants, a half-inch of rubbery purple glans had emerged from behind his belt buckle. Mel silently cursed his lack of underwear. Not entirely out of embarrassment, but because he knew what it would bring.

3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . he counted silently.

Blair appeared at the doorway, nostrils flaring. Amelia shivered as she caught sight of the brain slug host and the small alien whose dark head and sensory tentacles poked around the neck, probably to get a better smell of the situation.

"Can you tell that to go away?" she whispered.

"Her name's Blair," Mel said. "She's not a 'that.'"

Then he turned to the brain slug host.

"Can you get us some bottled water, please? Just ring it up, I'll pay for it when we're done here," he said. Painfully aware of what all this would cost. It looked like another week of eating ramen.

Blair's shaven head disappeared.

"Sorry," Amelia said. She bit her lip. "How do you manage it? Hanging around with extraterrestrials all the time? Doesn't it get to you?"

"They're just people," Mel said. "Quiet. Keep to themselves, mostly. If you don't bother them, they don't bother you."

"I guess they just trigger my uncanny valley," the pregnant woman said. Her thighs quivered, and there was a tense moment as another contraction hit her. She breathed carefully, following the instructions on the tablet. "Like, they look like people, but they don't have any affect, you know? Just those perfect poker faces. Can't tell what's going on behind those eyes. You, at least, I can see when your dick gets hard, the way you blush when you stare at me—it's okay, I don't mind, in fact, this is one of those rare exceptions where I absolutely insist you stare at my pussy. Fuck, if me and the baby survive this, I'll blow you."

The words came out in a rush. Rachel intercepted Blair at the entrance, brought a pair of bottled waters, handed one to Amelia, and set the other down by Mel's right knee.

"While I appreciate the offer, I'm kind of in a relationship," Mel said.

Amelia's eyes immediately went to Rachel.

"With her?" she asked.

"Her sister. Jordan," Mel said.

"Oh, true," Amelia said. "Yeah, that would be awkward. Um. I'm not actually a big slut. I'm a worker. Union. Sex Trades Local 747."

"Didn't know there was a union," Mel said. "And I never thought you were a slut."

She smiled at that. The smile turned into a grimace. Her whole body seemed to contract at once, and Amelia grabbed for her knees with both hands.

Mel saw the bulge before anything else. The way her crotch just behind the labia seemed to push outward, as something moved inside of her. Something a lot bigger than whatever had pushed into her to cause this. Immediately, Mel cupped his hands and held them underneath. He stared at her labia as they were slowly **** open from the inside, the head of the baby forcing the elastic walls to their maximum extent.

There was something fascinating about the process, and Mel couldn't tear his eyes away as he saw the tiny bead of fluid that hung at the very bottom of her vagina. The shadow of the head, which was evidence before he saw the wet, dark surface. The was the pink integument quivered and pulsed.

Amelia's toys curled. She was sweating. Huffing. Moaning under her breath, almost losing her rhythm as she felt her tunnel stretched beyond anything she had ever experienced.

"I can see it," Mel said. "I can see the head. How are you doing?"

"Oh fuck, this is a big one," Amelia said. "Biggest one of my fucking life—"

Mel wasn't sure what she was talking about until the next contraction hit. He could see now her clitoris, the little nub of flesh, completely erect. The baby's head was like a bowling ball, and it seemed impossible that the labia, stretched tight as they were, could spread any wider. Yet they did. And as the top half of the head emerged, Amelia gave voice to a sound that Mel had never heard before, but which he knew, deep down, was different than pain. Her thighs quivered. A hot stream burst from the little divot of her urethra and struck him square in the face. Mel didn't move, hands still poised to catch, and as the head popped free, he heard that scream of pleasure die back, and Amelia breathed again.

It took a few more minutes and a few more pushes to get the shoulders out. The rest of the baby, grey and wrinkled, followed swiftly. Rachel cut the cord with a pair of scissors that had been dipped in rubbing ****. Mel tied it off. They rinsed it in bottled water, gave it a little tap on the back, and wrapped the screaming bundle of joy in a clean Cosmic Fill-Up t-shirt.

"Congratulations," Mel said, suddenly aware of how sweaty he was and how much his foot hurt from kneeling in this position. "It's a boy."

Amelia held him. Eyes not open yet. Wet and raw as every newborn was. Yet unmistakably hers.

"Human guy," she said. "What's your name?"

"Mel," he said. "Mel Arkwright."

Amelia's nose crinkled.

"Melvin?" she asked.

"Melville," he clarified.

"Melville," Amelia said, with something between approval and relief. Then, to the baby: "Welcome to Seacouver, Melville O'Hara."

Eventually, the placenta came out. Melville wrapped it in the towel and dropped both in the biohazardous waste container. Rachel had rinsed out the cum-stained panties and leggings, and fortunately, Amelia had a change of clothes in her car. By the time the four of them emerged from the women's restroom—Blair waited there with the swifter to sanitize it all again—Ha-Yoon had returned from her own medical emergency, and traffic was moving on the street again.

She took one look at them and then immediately started cooing over the baby, taking pictures with her smartphone for social media, and offering Amelia various items that the exhausted woman largely managed to politely decline. Blair was back at the counter. Mel slid his hand across, and the brain slug host scanned his credit chip.

"Thanks for all the help," Mel told her. "I really appreciate it."

Blair raised her left hand and gave a thumb's up.

Mel walked Amelia and Li'l Mel to the car. She settled the baby into the car seat. Apparently, you could register a birth online these days, but it was best to get a doctor to check the little guy out. Though Mel had already counted the fingers and toes. Twice.

"I wasn't kidding about that blowjob," she said. Amelia studied him for a moment. "I owe you one. We could do it in the back seat . . ."

Her eyes went down to his pants, and Mel realized that, once again, without any underwear to get in the way, the tip was poking out from behind his belt buckle. He swiftly adjusted his pants and shirt to hide it.

"I know," Mel lied. "But I wasn't kidding about being in a relationship. Thanks anyway. I do appreciate the offer. I just . . . can't. And you don't owe me anything. "

"Lucky," she said, and Mel wasn't sure who she was referring to. Amelia leaned in suddenly, and her lips pressed against his cheek. He waited until she had left before smudging off her lipstick.

"Are all your shifts this exciting?" Rachel asked.

Mel gave a tired grin.

"Sometimes, we go an entire night without a single medical emergency," he told her.

They walked home together. Mel's feet dragged. Rachel was looking exhausted herself; she wasn't quite used to the night shift schedule, and it showed. It never occurred to Mel, until his card unlocked the door to 501, what his roommates would think when he staggered home after a long night's shift, exhausted and smelling very strongly of another woman's vagina.