Dude, just drop your pants. I'm going to make coffee.

These subtler senses of brain slug hosts are not merely passive. They are channels of communication that are actively used. Low-level emission of electrical impulses, microwave radiation, infrasound, and other signals is constant. Human beings around brain slug hosts are being interrogated continuously, even when they sleep; and the human brain and nervous system answers, unconsciously processing the flow of information. For some people, this manifests as **** disquiet around brain slug hosts that they cannot put into words, but for others it manifests as dreams and a sense of deeper connection or longing. The longer a human is around a brain slug host, the more attuned they become to this subtle, subconscious communication.
—How To Talk To Brain Slugs, Chapter 6: Sixth & Seventh Senses

Mel felt a flutter of something in his stomach as he stepped through the door to 502. Not the relief at being home, or the anticipation of a blowjob. Something similar, but more intense, and profoundly different. Excitement. Uncertainty. Expectation. The urge to run away. Leave it all behind.

But this was where they needed him.

The four brain slug hosts stood in a square, the hands chained together, facing each other. Soong and Jordan were still naked; Mel saw that the others were Blair, her bare brown head freshly shaved, and Maxine, the formerly feral brain slug host from the other day. She looked a little less thin, though it was hard to tell in those baggy clothes; a shapeless kind of hemp skirt and a pink-and-grey hoodie. Her hair was gone, the bald head covered with a grey knit cap, and Mel could see clearly her brain slug: smaller than the others, utterly translucent, with big red veins and three sensory tentacles on its head.

Jordan was facing him, opposite Maxine. Mel gave a sheepish grin as he stepped forward.

"Um. I didn't have time to tell you, but Tomie gave me a note today at work, said I had a responsibility . . . Rachel told me you needed me here, I guess this is about that," he said.

The brain slug hosts didn't turn to stare at Mel. They didn't need to. Connected like this, they were probably seeing him through Jordan's eyes, through Maxine's brain slug's eyespots. Their nostrils flared, and Mel's erection strained against his pants; he wasn't sure which was cause and which was effect.

"So, um. Where do you need me? What do I do?" Mel said.

Behind him, Rachel sighed. "Dude, just drop your pants. I'm going to make coffee."

The brain slug formation broke apart as Mel bent down and untied his shoes. Blair, Mel noticed, continued to hold hands with Maxine, brown palm clasped to palm. The former feral stared at Mel, not with intensity, but with the same kind of vacant, lost, empty gaze she had when she had wandered naked into the Cosmic Fill-Up. Jordan came over to Mel and tugged at his shirt. He let her help him out of it, and then he unbuckled his pants.

There was no whistle or laughter as his erection stood out from his body. The veins were hugely defined, the head swollen and an angry purple. The brain slug hosts all froze for a moment as it stood there, pulsing gently in time with Mel's beating heart.

Then Jordan took him by the dick.

Her hand closed around Mel's shaft with a firm grip. Not painfully, but more intimate than any handshake. As if on cue, Blair and Maxine went down onto their knees. The bigger, older Black woman held the thin brain slug host's hand the entire time. Mel followed Jordan's lead, guiding him over to position him with the swollen glans pointed at Maxine's mouth, which opened. The warm wind of her breath rolled his shaft, and Mel saw that the thin young woman was trembling constantly. Mel had seen one of the attendants at the orphanage bring her short-haired dog in during the winter, and it had trembled constantly in her lap, just like that.

Jordan pressed her body against Mel's as she stroked him, one-handed. Her thumb and forefinger formed a ring that ran up and down the shaft, squeezed a little whenever it brushed over the sensitive crest of the swollen helmet. Mel felt her other arm curled around the small of his back, to hold his hip, her palm hot against his skin. Making sure that no matter how hard or fast she stroked, Mel was always pointed at the target.

Her cheek rested against Mel's shoulder as she sped up. Mel wasn't sure where to put his own hands, which held limply against his sides. Curiously hyper-aware of the sensation of Jordan's breast against his arm, her nipple hard against his bicep. His hips jerked a little as he stared down at the waiting, open receptacle. The dark mouth was full of saliva now. Almost drooling in anticipation, hunger, need—

Mel jerked in Jordan's hand, the pent-up load spitting into the waiting mouth in a hot white gob that seemed to shock Maxine with the **** and suddenness of the eruption. Blair had her free hand on the side of the younger brain slug host's face, as if holding the jaw open as rope after white sticky rope burst forth from the tip. All of the pent-up excitement from the first time Mel had seen Rachel and Soong kissing an hour ago was unleashed.

Jordan stroked him smoothly through the release. When he finally stopped shooting and started dribbling, she helped squeeze out the last drop, finally pulling him forward to wipe that drip off on Maxine's softened lips. The young brain slug host closed her mouth and swallowed. No ceremony, no show of it. Just swallowed.

Heart hammering, Mel let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A smell from the kitchen caught his nostrils. He heard a gurgle from his own stomach, felt a sudden emptiness—he still hadn't eaten dinner—and he turned his head to see that Rachel had a pot boiling. Ramen. Cut up hot dog, onion, boiled egg. Soong, still naked, hung near her. With a shock, Mel realized that Rachel had shed her pants too, and was dressed only in a t-shirt that didn't quite cover the blonde thatch between her thighs.

"You need to eat," Rachel said. "Give yourself a few minutes to recover. Soong says it's going to be a long night."

Mel opened his mouth to ask how Soong had told her that—and who had bought groceries—then he looked at the fridge. There were small square magnets there. Letters. Some of them arranged into a brief message.

ALL NIGHTER.

Blair and Maxine sat on the couch. The thinner brain slug didn't look any different, but her brain slug pulsed, swelling and deflating in a quick rhythm. The other brain slugs, he noticed, weren't, or at least, not as swiftly.

Mel's confusion must have shown on his face. Rachel smiled.

"I went shopping. Don't get used to it. I told you I'm not domestic. But since you're providing the show, I might as well provide the dinner," she said.

Fridge magnets were not something Mel had any experience with at the orphanage. Yet he grasped the concept immediately. A quick way to leave simple messages in a central spot. Obvious, really. The kind of thing he should have thought of and probably purchased with his first paycheck.

Somehow, it was worse feeling like an idiot with his cock hanging out. Which Jordan had not let go of. Nor was he immediately urgent for her to do so. When the ramen was ready, however, she and Soong disengaged. They turned on the television to find a documentary, all the brain slugs clustered around the couch as Mel ate and Rachel drank her coffee.

He tried to keep his eyes north of Rachel's neck.

"Okay, so I know why I'm naked," Mel said. "But what happened to your clothes?"

"Solidarity," Rachel said, and hid her smile beneath her cup. Her own gaze drifted southward several times. There was color in her cheeks, and Mel felt distinctly that she was somehow enjoying his discomfort.

The meal didn't take long. Mel washed it down with a glass of water and felt better for it.

The brain slugs, meanwhile, had discovered pay-per-view. Mel walked over to them, a little less nervous about his performance and a little more nervous about what was going to happen next as the four women on the couch scrolled through options like BUKKAKE BLOWBANG 2054 and CUM-GUZZLING COCKSOCKETS: THE NEXT GENERATION.

"I, uh, don't really need that kind of stimulation, I think," he said.

This time, Maxine knelt over the arm of the couch, on her hands and knees, with Blair standing to the side behind the couch to hold her hand. Jordan stood behind Mel, her breasts pressed into his shoulders, and he was once again reminded of how much taller she was than him. Both of her hands were on his half-erection, rubbing it with the palms to warm it back up. Soong stood to the side, next to Blair, the two brain slugs obviously coordinating.

Yet what Mel found most distracting was Rachel. She was in her own chair, just to the side of the couch so that she had a good view, one ankle up on the arm of the couch, thighs spread just that much, left hand petting the soft golden fur. Her eyes were intent, fixed, watching. Mel felt his cheeks burn; surrounded by and touched by two naked women, an open mouth ready to catch his next ejaculation with unassuaged hunger. Yet what really made him not want to fail was the pair of blue eyes that stared at him from across the couch.

Rachel wanted her show. Mel didn't want to disappoint her. Didn't want to disappoint any of them. A weird smile came to Mel's lips as his aching hardness returned to rigid readiness.

"What are you smiling at?" Rachel said, a half-grin on her own face.

"I just realized I'm having fun," he said. It was a weird thing to say. This was basically a medical intervention. None of the brain slug hosts were smiling. Yet they never smiled. That was one thing that Rachel and Mel could share that he and Jordan couldn't.

Jordan shifted her grip, one hand down by the base, thumb and forefinger gripping him tightly, her fingers lightly gripping Mel's balls as the other hand ran freely, up and down the length of the shaft. Despite the activity, Mel felt his eyes drawn between Maxine's mouth and Rachel's own little show. She had said that she didn't mind if he watched, but there was still a hesitation on is part, a part of him deep down that wasn't sure she meant it.

Except Rachel was actively stroking her slit now. The bush was strange to see, considering how the brain slugs shaved. Her eyes were locked. Not on Mel's face. On Jordan's hand on his cock. Mel wondered if she was imagining a keyhole right now. If that made it better for her. Or if, in this moment, her mind was right where she was. In the moment. Watching him with the fixation and need of . . .

"Don't hold back," Rachel broke in. "It's okay to be a quick shot. Look at how much she needs it."

Rachel's fingers were moving faster now, circling where Mel thought her clit would be quickly. Jordan squeezed his balls a little with her free fingers, as her right hand concentrated near the head. Maxine's face had grown closer, the open lips almost touching him, tongue out. Dark eyes crossed as she stared down her nose at the stiff shaft aimed at her. Panting a little, each hot breath a caress on the swollen head of Mel's dick.

The familiar pressure and tingle at the base of his meat. The way his heart hammered faster against his chest. All of the brain slug hosts were fixated on the scene now, nostrils flaring, drinking in the scent, talking to each other in ways that Mel couldn't, sharing the sensation of being stroker, witness, and eager recipient.

Rachel made a sound. A high-pitched little squeal. A brief animal noise that bypassed the brain entirely. It sent a ripple of shock up Mel's spine. The pressure burned along the length of his meat and exploded in a way that briefly made him forget his eyes could see anything.

This time, Maxine's lips closed behind the shaft. Her lips drawn over her teeth, the way Jordan and Soong did. She was learning. Mel gasped at the sudden heat and pressure. The suction as hollow cheeks drew close, the play of the tongue on the sensitive underside of his glans, everything coordinated as Jordan continued to pump his shaft.

Not as much as the first time. Maxine drew back as Mel stood there, shaking and a little clammy. Her tongue ran over his urethra to catch the last grey-white drop.

Jordan didn't disengage entirely, but her hands shifted. Her lips pressed against the bruise on Mel's neck. Hands wrapped around his torso in a hug. Rachel's face was absolutely crimson, and Soong broke away to hug her, in a position not too dissimilar to how Jordan was hugging Mel.

They didn't sleep that night. Not really. The pace was set by Mel's refraction period. The mental and physical exhaustion that came from repeated need to perform, and the inability for him to really sleep when every hour an eager mouth settled over him. Maxine's interaction and technique increased as the night went on. Sometime near six in the morning, Mel found himself nodding off on the couch, even as the thin young woman's nostrils were buried in his pubic hair. He was only half hard, and parts of his body ached. Yet he tried. Shifted his hips. Squeezed his butt. Felt inside himself that place, tried to remember the sensation.

Then Rachel stood right behind the kneeling woman. Her fingers were pruned. Soong was behind her, touching her in much the way that Jordan touched Mel. The Asian woman's hands up under Rachel's shirt, rubbing the nipples; her mouth on the back of Rachel's neck, kissing, sucking, biting lightly. Mel's head lolled, his eyes focused on Rachel's pubes, no longer able or willing to hide the direction of his gaze. Even through golden curls, Mel could see that Rachel's labia seemed pink, swollen, almost raw. He stared in terrible fascination as her stiff hand worked with frantic, exhausted need. For her to finish. To see Mel finish. One last time.

Maxine's head bobbed. Jordan's hands were on his shoulder, massaging lightly. Soong and Blair crowded close. Mel's lips bent back and bared his teeth as the flood gates opened to release a thin watery white trickle, one last time . . . and as the dam burst in Maxine's mouth, Rachel gave a soft, almost **** little gasp, wobbled, and fell to her knees.

The brain slug hosts got up, apparently convinced that the well was finally, truly dry. Mel lolled on the couch, breathing hard, smelling his own stale sweat as Blair and Maxine took their leave. His prick hung half-limp, and Rachel was on her knees only a couple feet away, staring at the slowly shrinking one-eyed monster. Both exhausted, mentally and physically. Sleep deprived. Caught up in an hours-long sexual marathon with the kind of singular focus and energy that spoke to a lifetime of inability to indulge themselves finally given release.

That was when Jordan made her move.