Testament

Fertilized receptor cells develop a thicker coating that is resistant to human digestive enzymes, enabling the cell to penetrate deeper into the body and provoking an immune response. Most healthy human immune systems can effectively destroy an infection, unless the immune system is compromised or the individual faces multiple infections simultaneously (always wear protection when engaging in group sex with multiple brain slug hosts).

Common symptoms include mild-to-high fever, sore muscles, **** fatigue, and mental fog, and can last two to four weeks. Standard diagnosis typically requires a swab of the infection site. Anti-parasitic medications are an effective treatment, provided the nascent organism is less than three centimeters in length, at which point it is typically vascularized and requires surgical removal. At six to ten centimeters in length, the brain slug is fully developed and ready to emerge from the nearest orifice.

This process has been described by survivors as traumatic, though it is rarely lethal. If this happens to you, please present yourself for emergency treatment, as the exit wound prevents the danger of secondary infection and sepsis.
—Slug Sutra, Chapter 3

Mel brushed his teeth for the second time. So did Soong. Rachel waited for him to finish before kissing him good night. Just a quick peck on the lips. A smile. She hugged Jordan and Soong. Then she was gone. Back to her own apartment across the hallway. Mel wondered if, one day, she would spend the night again.

It felt like a silly thought; she had spent days and nights here already, and had her own bed close enough that they could shout for each other. Yet a part of him felt the absence when she was gone, the lack. She'd been here only a few days, and yet he missed it when she wasn't around.

Even his bed felt lonely. Jordan and Soong were in their own room, and as Mel spent a few minutes scanning the pages of the Slug Sutra, he wondered whether to bother them. It was strange; back at the orphanage, he had been glad of whatever privacy he could get. Now—now he faced the prospect of a night alone in his own bed and felt discontent.

Part of it was the hard-on. The erection was inconvenient, a throbbing need that wanted attention. He didn't touch it. That was one of the rules he'd agreed on with Jordan and Soong. After the whole oral sex practice, Mel had half-expected that they would go down on him. When they hadn't made any motion in that regard, Mel hadn't felt right about asking about it. After all, Jordan and Rachel were tired, and Soong's jaw would be as sore as his from licking Rachel.

So he read, and the silence of the night crowded in on him. Mel felt his mind going back down to his turgid prick, which stubbornly refused to go down on its own. His mind drifted to other things. The taste of Jordan's pussy, with that slightly fishy smell he associated with slugs. The way she didn't moan like Rachel, but how her body would tense, and sometimes when her hands went to his head, she'd squeeze. That was when he knew he was going too fast, to back off, to try licking somewhere else.

Mel rose to replace the book on its makeshift shelf. Too horny to sleep. Too horny to read. His eyes went to the dark, open door of Jordan and Soong's room. Once it had appeared ominous; now it looked like an invitation. He chewed his lip, wondering if he should go in. What he would do if they said "no." After all, he reflected, maybe they wanted him to save up. Watery sperm couldn't do much good, would it . . .

So he looked away from the bedroom to the television and noticed that Soong's thumb drive was still in there.

Curious, Mel sat on the couch and clicked the remote. The screen blinked on, turning the whole darkened main room into a blue-lit theater. He muted the sound, hoping not to wake his roommates. A few clicks on the remote control located the thumb drive brought up its contents.

There was more than just the one video.

Oral Sex For Beginners, Oral Sex: Intermediate Lessons, Oral Sex: Expert Lessons. Those made sense to Mel. Probably purchased or downloaded for the express purpose of sexual education. Maybe not even for Mel in particular; it could have been something from Soong's old life. Yet there were other videos there, some labeled just strings of letters and numbers, and two that caught Mel's attention.

Jordan Carmichael and Jenny Soong.

Curious, Mel clicked on Jordan's video.

The clip showed up on screen. It was Jordan. But not Jordan as Mel had ever known her. She was wearing a blue dress that left her arms bare. Her face a little fuller, makeup around her eyes, red lipstick. The side of her head was freshly shaved. Mel took that all in at a glance, but what astounded her was that her lips were moving. She was talking to the camera.

Then she turned her head. Just for a second. Her right hand came up to tuck her straw-blonde hair behind her ear, and Mel saw her neck. Plain. Empty. No brain slug. That was when Mel realized what this was.

It was Jordan before.

He paused the video, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest, shaking with an emotion he couldn't express. Mel had never seen a ghost. Didn't really think he believed in them. Yet this was . . . he felt, for the first time in his life, like a voyeur. His left hand clutched his knees tight, nails digging into the skin as he turned the volume to its lowest setting and replayed it from the beginning.

The voice wasn't Rachel's. But it had her accent. That Ottawa Valley accent that wasn't Irish or Scottish, but had something in it that was a little bit of that, the way it played out in her vowels, how she said certain words, and Mel leaned forward and strained to catch every syllable.

"My name is Jordan Carmichael, I'm twenty-three years old, and I've decided to join the Seacouver Hive. This video testament is part of the process. A way for us to help process what we're doing. I think it's pretty easy to understand, though there are people who won't. There was a time when I tried to end my life. Now—now I think I'm moving toward something. I'm going to be a part of something bigger than myself. I think it's what I always imagined what marriage would actually be like, back when I thought I would be married. It's permanent. Til **** do us part."

She sniffed and turned her head, that same motion that Mel had seen before. That smooth expanse of neck. It had been shaved, he realized. This might have been the very day she received her brain slug. Hours or minutes before it happened. Her last words.

Then she stared back at the camera, and her blue eyes were free of tears, oddly present and intense in a way that Mel had never seen before. An intelligence, a person was looking at him, so intensely human, so fragile, so broken, yet present, and—Mel realized with a start—he would never know her as she had been.

"I'm starting a new life now. I don't know if I'll be free of the doubts, the fears, the pain that has held me back for twenty-three years. Here at the compound, the hive told me that they accept me. They accept who I am. Not everyone makes it this far. Some are too old to make the transition, some are too sick, too damaged, and wouldn't make it. Or they don't have the courage to walk away from what they have, this life that means so little to anyone else but is all we've got. The brain slugs are honest; there's a ten percent chance that the damage of integration will be too extensive. That the host dies, or is too brain-damaged to operate. The others will be there to guide it, but still. One in ten."

She leaned forward, and Mel could see her knees pressed together, and the hands on her knees, the nails freshly painted.

"I'm willing to risk it. On the chance that I can be more than this. That I can be better than this. And if you're watching this, whether it's my sister Rachel or anyone else who decided to hear the last words of someone about to take a step toward what might be **** or might be the next stage of human evolution—I want you to know I love you. I love that you care enough to know who I was. And I hope, I really hope, that you love who I become."

Jordan reached out then and turned off the camera. The film ended. Mel realized he was on the edge of his seat, and his erection was utterly forgotten. He had to show Rachel this. He had to—

A hand, cool and soft, slid on the back of his neck. He turned and looked up, and Jordan stood there, the whites of her eyes glowing phosphorescent in the dark. He wasn't sure how long she had been standing there. Had the sound awakened her? The light from the television?

Her hand curled around his head until her left thumb pressed against his lips. She leaned over the couch until she slid, kind of bonelessly, into his lap. Not to mount him. Just to be there. To hold him, and be held by him. With one hand draped around his neck, her free hand found the remote, and she turned off the television.

Jordan's head rested against his chest. Her arms hugged him close. With each heartbeat, his hardness throbbed against her thigh. The scent of her filled him, the soft sound of her breathing. Slower and deeper with each passing moment. Until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Sharing something Mel had no words for, not yet.