The Beginning of Acceptance

North American Brain Slug hosts formerly used elaborate "courting" behavior to attract potential hosts. Human governments considered these behaviors coercive and passed laws restricting the hives' actions to attract potential hosts by offering material goods or sexual services.
—National Geographic Field Guide to Extraterrestrial Species of North America, Chapter 2

The moment that Soong and Jordan released each other's hands to take their work shirts off, Mel lowered his eyes. The sight and knowledge of women in the same room as him, taking off their clothes, had not lost their erotic appeal, but he still felt wrong to just stare at them. It wasn't like this was a strip club or a nude beach.

Does it make me weird that I'm not completely comfortable with a clothing-optional apartment? he wondered.

With his eyes carefully pointed elsewhere, Mel went into the bathroom. The workplace erection had caused a bit of smegma to build up, and he carefully wiped it away, absurdly conscientious of what Jordan would think if she saw him unwashed.

Then the door to the bathroom opened. Mel turned around, prick still in hand.

Why the hell do I never lock the door!? he wondered.

He stared. Jordan and Soong were there, clothes off, skin bare. They stood next to each other, holding hands, fingers entwined. Mel stared, too surprised to look away. When they were right next to each other, he could compare and contrast. Jordan's breasts were a little fuller, but Soong's nipples were outies, like two little eraser heads on her soft skin. This close, he could see the delicate hint of hair in their armpits, the stubble from where they'd shaved their pussies, but it was growing back.

Heat flooded his cheeks. It was just like last night, except there were two of them now . . . two naked women, within arm's reach of him, and here he was, his cock in his hand, the skin shiny pink where he'd wiped it clean.

Soong's right hand, the one not holding Jordan's, came up. There was a condom in it. Mel looked from Jordan to Soong, and back again. Their hair was over their left shoulders, their brain slugs were peeking out on the right, the sensory tentacles fully extended. He assessed his options. He could refuse. This was weird. On the other hand . . . it's not like he was pushing for this. Jordan and Soong had approached him. Hell, it wasn't even sex. Just masturbation with an audience.

He felt he had to say something. Make sure this was what they wanted. Unsure if this was even something that he wanted, though he knew he'd be a fool to turn it down. What if they decided to walk away? What if they didn't? Would this become a regular part of his life—to come home and jerk off for a brain slug? And if it did, as that so bad?

Philosophical questions Mel was not equipped for as he grew hard.

"Are you sure? I mean, we don't have to do this. Or I could close the door, take care of business . . . you don't have to watch," he said. Then added guiltily: "Unless you want to?"

It felt weird to hesitate when two naked women were staring at his junk. Even as Mel gave his half-hearted bid to make sure everyone was consenting to this, he could feel the warm, soft meat in his hand stiffen. It was so easy to get hard; yet the whole situation was so weird, so unexpected. Jordan lifted her left hand in the now-familiar thumb's up gesture.

Mel took a deep breath. Debates about morality evaporated under the swiftly swelling need to get off. It was too good an opportunity to refuse. With a sigh, he reached forward and accepted the condom. The two women stared at him, eyes dropping to his crotch as he stroked himself a little to full hardness, and then pulled his balls out as well, over his underwear.

It was easier this time, getting the condom on. Mel thought he might be more nervous with Soong here, watching, but his fingers didn't shake. It was—exciting. In teen sex comedies, girls were always peeking at boys in the shower, or vice versa. His own experiences in high school and the orphanage hadn't seen much of that; a couple older teens tried, got caught, suspended. Now, as he slid the almost-transparent sleeve over his achingly stiff shaft, Mel realized his own excitement. He was living out one of those scenarios. Women were watching him jerk off.

That was turning him on more than he thought it would.

He wasn't sure they saw him as sexy, exactly. Mel looked at their faces as he began to stroke. They were fixated on his crotch. Eyes missing nothing. He could see the tension in their forearms, sweaty palm to sweaty palm, the brain slugs communicating through their host. The thought came to him that they were treating him like the magazines they had read together. Sharing the experience more directly, from different angles. Adding somehow to its understanding.

Mel let his eyes roam over their bodies as his hips twitched a little. Soong's labia were a little darker and more protuberant than Jordan's. What caused that? Genetics? Or did she have more sex? Mel shivered a little as he thought about Antonio shoving himself into that slender, almost fragile-looking body. He could feel the pressure slowly build up inside of him. Breath came quicker, hotter. His own nipples were stiffened, and his free hand fondled his balls.

Fantasies played out in his mind. Those naked women on their knees, their mouths on him. Arousal overwhelmed his moral twinge at sexualizing the two naked women before him; Mel knew he would feel guilty later, but right now he had a job. A tasking. They wanted a condom full of cum. He would make sure they got it.

The women watched in silent, intense focus. Faces placid, but his eyes were not missing a single moment as his hips began to buck. His balls squeezed, held, released. Each time, Mel could feel the pressure build. More and more, until it became a throbbing, impossible to ignore center of his existence. The strokes had shortened to his thumb and forefinger in a ring, running over the rubbery, swollen glans again and again and . . .

A choked sound accompanied the hot gush that filled the reservoir tip. Mel's thighs tensed, buttocks squeezed tight, his whole body focused on fucking the air as he kept stroking. The condom ballooned with rope after sticky white rope. Losing track of time as his entire consciousness shrank to filling the condom.

When, at last, he was done, the condom was half-pulled off his schlong. It hung like a drop on the end of his drooping mast. Mel panted and pulled it off. Urethra burning a little as he squeezed the tip, to get the last drip out. He held it out.

Jordan took it. Mel wondered if they would leave now. Instead, Song turned toward her. The brain slug on the Asian woman's neck could be seen more clearly. Emerald green. Undulating. Soong opened her mouth, tilted her head back slowly—and Jordan up-ended the condom into the shorter woman's mouth, onto her tongue. Fingers squeezed every drop out with care.

Mel wasn't surprised when Jordan's head dipped down and met Soong's lips. A strangely contented sigh came from his mouth as he saw their cheeks move, tongues twisting as they distributed his sperm. He leaned his ass against the sink, ignoring the rumble of his stomach that wanted its daily dose of ramen.

Hoping he would always remember every detail of that moment of that kiss.

It was brief, ultimately. Soong swallowed, and unlaced her fingers. She walked over to the couch, where her clothes were, and began to dress. Jordan went to the kitchen, probably to make a meal. Mel cleaned up in the bathroom. On his way out, he checked the lock on the bathroom door and realized it was broken. The door wouldn't lock at all. No wonder Jordan could always open it. He could have opened it at any time when she was showering or in the bathroom, and that sent a weird shiver through him. Their private time was just a matter of mutual respect, unenforced by—anything.

By the time he was done fiddling with the door, which he had no idea how to repair, Soong had gone, and Jordan was on the couch, looking for a program. In a few minutes, Mel joined her, hot cup of ramen in hand.

Tonight was a program about eels, an animal that Mel had never seen in any form but which had, apparently, a long-mysterious lifecycle and a lengthy history in human gastronomy. Mel ate and barely glanced at the naked roommate next to him, his mind awash with that clarity that always came after a really intense session. He wondered if this was going to be a part of their routine now. If this was what the beginning of acceptance felt like.