Soft, Wet, Warm Thing

The second stage of a brain slug host's lifecycle is marked by increased integration of the two organisms. Brain slug cells spread into and begin colonizing the host organism; integration with the brain increases, leading to rapidly developing capabilities. Because brain slug secretions mimic human androgens, the host body typically begins displaying the effects of shifting hormone balance, which will continue throughout the host's life. The combined organism often becomes more outgoing, seeking greater social interaction. This is typically the stage when the brain slug looks to recruit additional hosts, when their appearance is primarily human, and the integration process has not significantly altered their external appearance.
—National Geographic Field Guide to Extraterrestrial Species of North America, Chapter 2

Consciousness came back suddenly, with the sudden, certain knowledge that Mel was not alone. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, to see that shadow of Jordan's head as it loomed over him. She was crouched over his bed...over him...and when she felt his hot breath on the glans of his hardness, he realized that his morning wood had sent the swollen tip just past the waistband of his boxers.

Jordan sniffed. Her nostrils hovered right over the rubbery head, and Mel swallowed, unable to move. The elastic of the waistband cut into the sensitive flesh, which strained away from his body. An aching, throbbing need deep inside at the root begged for a release it hadn't had in over a day.

He couldn't see what touched the tip. Just the warm, wet sensation of it. Tentative. Exploring. Tasting. Mel shivered, and it had nothing to do with how cold the room was. The soft, wet, warm thing ran up and down the little slit, probably to gather the cloudy bead that had gathered there like morning dew. Then her head turned. She looked at him in the dark.

That was when he saw it. A soft, pale phosphorescence in the whites of her eyes. The palest of pale blues, not bright or glaring, just making her eyes stand out on her face, the pupil and iris black pits by comparison. It was the first time he had ever seen that, and the profound unnaturalness of it gave him a full-body shudder.

Jordan rose and left. Her naked body limned against the doorway to his room, for just a moment, one hint of those glowing eyes against the dark profile of her face, a hint of an erect nipple outlined. Then gone. For a moment, Mel wondered if he was still asleep and that had been some wet dream, driven by his reading. Then the shower started, and he blinked. Shook himself and rolled off the bed. Before he began his exercises, he touched—yes, it was wet, where her tongue had touched him.

The walk to the Cosmic Fill-Up was cold and rainy. Mel wished he had a hoodie or jacket of some kind. Jordan and Soong placidly walked through the drizzle, apparently uncaring of the damp on their faces or soaked into their skin and hair, and their brain slugs glistened in the wetness. Mel saw their fingers entwined and wondered if Jordan was telling Soong how he tasted.

It was a slow day. Amelia came in for coffee and frowned because Mel was replacing the receipt paper in the hydrogen pumps instead of at the counter. Mouth twisted in a frown as she stared at Jordan. She finally approached the counter with **** and let the brain slug host check her out.

There was enough to keep him busy stocking shelves, breaking down cardboard boxes for recycling, sifting trash. All of the thousand and one things that go into keeping a business clean and ready for any waiting customer, spread out among the group of them working. Some hours, the brain slug hosts just stood there, staring at nothing. If they were near enough to one another, they'd hold hands. If not, they just waited.

As Mel waited behind Jordan and Soong to sign out in the afternoon, Ha-Yoon popped her head out of the office and beckoned him over with one crooked finger.

"I need to change the schedules around. Blair, Soong, and Jordan will be on day shift starting next week; you, Tomie, and Bobbie will be on graveyard shift. That's 10PM until 6AM. You okay with that?" she asked, and her voice was serious.

Mel stared into her eyes, at the little gold stars implanted in the sclera. He wasn't sure how or why he would say no; he'd been on the job less than two weeks. If he wanted to eat, he needed a paycheck.

"Sure, no problem," he said. "So, uh, who's in charge during the graveyard shift?"

Her face twisted in a smile that was somewhere between sad and cruel.

"You're going to be the only human on the shift. I'll be on call if you have any real emergencies, but for the most part, I just need you to do your job and handle any human interaction that Tomie and Bobbie can't. You can do that, right?"

"Sure. I mean, I'll do my best, boss," Mel said. It was all he could say.

The two brain slug hosts were waiting for him as he left the Cosmic Fill-Up. The drizzle had ceased, though the wind was cold.

"Ha-Yoon put me on the graveyard shift next week," he told them. They didn't nod. Didn't give a thumb's up. No acknowledgement whatsoever. Just turned and walked off, hand-in-hand, with Mel following behind them, wrapped in his own thoughts.

He could already feel the kind of ache in the pit of his stomach; graveyard shift meant less time hanging out with Jordan and Soong. Even this walk to work and back; they'd be leaving their apartments at different times. Maybe they could still have dinner together—by the time Jordan got back to the apartment, there was just enough time for Mel to suck down some ramen before walking to work—but it still ate at him, the future loss of minutes, hours.

Then Mel thought about this morning, what had happened in the dark.

Maybe it was just a fluke. He'd suspected that the brain slug hosts knew when he got hard, some factor of their keen sense of smell or something. That had to have been what brought Jordan into his room, though he had no idea how long she had been there, in the dark, sniffing at his erection. Then, that taste . . . what would she have done if he hadn't woken up? Would she have gone further? Was it just the brain slug being curious?

The Field Guide said that when brain slug hosts were in their second stage, they changed. Mel replaced the last eleven days in his head. Had Jordan changed? She'd stopped wearing clothes at home. Incorporated him into her schedule. They'd watched TV together, ate together. And the whole jerking-off thing . . . his pants shifted uncomfortably, just the thought of that bringing him to an inconvenient half-mast.

Jordan and Soong paused and looked over their shoulders. Mel ground to a halt behind them. A soft heat on his face as he realized why they stopped. The embarrassment of knowing his roommate's preternatural sense for when he was erect was somehow more arousing than carrying a stiff dick in his pants without anyone knowing.

They turned back, eyes straight ahead, and resumed their walk. Mel in tow, feeling like the ugliest duckling. Cheeks burning in the cold as he tried not to think about stumbling in from the graveyard shift to find Jordan naked and waiting for him, before she had to leave for work. One more fantasy to project onto the strange reality that was his grown-up life.