You Smell Like Pussy

Popular rumor says that brain slug hosts are always wet and dripping to the touch. There is a kernel of truth to this. During the second stage of brain slug integration, the nervous endings in erogenous zones (nipples, clitoris or penis, and anus) increase in sophistication and density, and changes occur to increase the volume and change the consistency of various nearby glands. As a result, six to eight weeks after integration, a brain slug host can produce at will various sexual fluids loaded with biomarkers. These can be used to mark ownership, leave warnings, or convey messages to other brain slugs.
—How To Talk To Brain Slugs, Chapter 4: Touch

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you smell like pussy," Rachel said.

It was, technically, early in the morning. Mel should have been sleeping. Instead, he and Rachel were in the laundry, washing his sheets and the clothes they had worn during Amelia's birth. Mel sat in one of the orange chairs, barely keeping his eyes open. He had managed to brush his teeth after his roommates had let him go, retiring to their own room. Then stripped the bed as Rachel changed her clothes.

"I'll take a shower," he promised. "But after going through all that, I thought washing their smell off immediately might just trigger a repeat performance, and I don't think I'm up for that again."

"You seemed to get it up pretty easily," Rachel teased. He opened his eyes in time to see her smirk. Then she turned her face away. "Is it just a guy thing? I mean, you'd think you'd be more upset. They basically **** you."

Mel winced at the R-word. "I don't know. I think if I'd fought back or told them to stop, they would have. It was weird, unexpected, but they didn't hurt me. And I wasn't . . . unwilling. You saw that. I might not have initiated sex, but that doesn't mean I wasn't consenting. I guess if I were a girl, I might feel different. But it was just them. It's not like we haven't done stuff. Although that was a new one."

Rachel said nothing for a while. She was in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that read: I LOVE BIG BOOKS AND I CANNOT LIE. No bra. Mel tried not to stare at the way her nipples were outlined by the fabric.

"Yeah. The, um. Voyeur thing. I've never done that before," she said. Rachel chewed on her lower lip. "Okay, that's not quite true. I used to peek in on Jordie when she brought her boyfriend over. We shared a room, and she'd ask me to stand guard to make sure mom didn't barge in. The house we lived in was old, and it was one of those locks with the keyhole you could stare straight through. I could sit on the floor and stare through the keyway while they had sex. I couldn't see much, but I could hear them, the little moans and the creak of the bedsprings, and I saw when she was in missionary, and he was just plugging away on top of her, or when she was riding on top of him, and I got wet. So I'd reach down, fingers under my panties, and jill off a little. It wasn't a regular thing, but we had all these parental locks on the internet, so I couldn't see any porn, and I—I did that a couple of times, until we moved out of mom's house."

Rachel leaned her butt against a washer.

"I should have gone over to 502. Left you to it. I told myself I was just making sure you were okay, but it wasn't . . . I was never able to see it clearly before. I think I lied to myself. But I really did want to see. Then I was already watching, and it was hot. So I kept watching. I got that same tingle of excitement as I used to get. You were so lost in it, after she started riding your face, and it was clear that they weren't just like, marking you with their juices, so I—I started touching myself. None of you seemed to see me until the end. And it's been a while for me. I haven't had a boyfriend. Ever. I know that sounds like a stupid excuse, but that's what it boils down to. I was horny, and you were putting on a show."

Mel nodded. He thought about the brain slug eyespots again. How Jordan and Soong almost certainly knew Rachel was there, and what she was doing. That meant they didn't mind. So he wasn't sure why he should mind either. In fact, a part of him wondered if Jordan had known about her earlier peeping and put on a show for Rachel on purpose.

Broaching that subject in a conversation was so far outside his experience that Mel wasn't sure how to handle it politely. So he opted to let it go for now.

"That's a relief, honestly," he said.

Rachel cocked her head, which made her blonde hair fall and hang like a waterfall.

"Why is that?" she asked. Blue eyes wide, genuinely curious.

"I guess I was afraid that maybe the brain slugs were affecting you," Mel said. "I mean, I moved in with them and within days they'd walking around naked, and then they're sucking on my . . . and I wasn't sure how much of my going along with it was just me not wanting to fight against free blowjobs, and how much of it might be, like, the brain slugs secreting pheromones that influenced my brain or something."

"I don't think humans work like that. With pheromones and all," she said.

"Probably not. I only ever got through basic anatomy in high school," Mel said. He rubbed his palms on his knees. "I don't mind you watching, by the way. I mean, I'm not trying to expose myself to you or anything. I've got nothing to show off. I just don't think the brain slugs have a sense of shame like we do, from sex. Not the same sense of privacy. And maybe . . . I think they do it on purpose. Like, as a demonstration. Show of affection."

"Or ownership," Rachel said, and that smirk returned.

"Or that," Mel acknowledged with a nod. "But like, they knew you were there. The brain slugs have eyespots. If they kept going, it's because they knew you were there and didn't mind it, so I really don't think I have any right to complain even if I was upset, which I'm not."

Rachel nodded her head. She looked like she wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. Mel knew the feeling well. Just talking to her about this kind of thing was a load off his mind. It gave him a chance to put into words thoughts he had difficulty expressing, even to himself.

"Are you okay if this keeps going?" Rachel asked. "I don't mean me watching, that won't—I'm sure I won't see much of that, once I'm moved in next door. I can leave you three to your bedroom activities. But if you keep being so passive, they might keep going further. You haven't had sex yet, right?"

"No penetration," Mel confirmed. "Although I, um. Tried oral sex tonight. Probably need to work on that. Wasn't really sure what I was doing. I was actually going to check out a book on that at the library the other day, but you were there, and it would have felt awkward."

"It sounded like you did a good job, for a first timer," Rachel said. She crossed her arms below her breasts and leaned against a washing machine. Forming a little shelf that, even in his exhaustion, Mel found impossibly distracting. "I don't think Jordan's boyfriends really did that for her. They were all focused on getting their dicks wet. So good for you."

Mel looked at his shoes, cheeks burning.

"I don't mean that to embarrass you," Rachel said. "I'm just saying, you're considerate. Sweet. I'm glad that you're trying to give back. I'm just concerned that if things keep going the way they are—when you do inevitably graduate to penetration—we might need to have a serious talk about birth control."

A little shudder went up Mel's spine. Rachel caught it.

"Don't like babies? I mean, you seemed to handle birthing okay," she said.

"I don't—" he paused. Closed his tired eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. Then started again. "I spent my life in an orphanage. No parents. No siblings. Nobody wanted me. It was a lonely way to grow up. I don't—I don't want to do that to anyone else. If I ever have kids, I don't want them to ever be in an orphanage or foster care. I know maybe there are kids on the street, runaways, or from abusive households that had it a lot worse than I did, with three meals a day and a dry place to sleep, but I don't want anyone to go through what I did. And I—I don't know if I'd be a good parent. I've never done that before, never seen anybody do that before. I had people who took care of me, but it wasn't the same thing, and I don't know what being a good parent looks like except on TV."

Mel's voice broke a little near the end. He had never put those thoughts into words, exactly. Coming out of high school at 18 into a rent-controlled apartment and an entry-level job, the thought of kids was the furthest thing from his mind. Then again, so had the idea of a girlfriend. Or a slugfriend. Mel had no idea what to call it when he was essentially dating a hive mind.

Rachel walked over and sat down in the chair next to Mel's. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"You don't just give up," she said. "You moved in with a brain slug, and your first instinct wasn't how to take advantage of the situation, but how to learn more about brain slugs. When Jordie and Soong needed help, you acted. When Amelia needed help, you acted. You're not passive, Mel. You try to help people. And I heard when Amelia offered you a blowjob, and you told me about when Tomie touched you. Both times you said no. I don't think you're some douchebag horndog who only thinks with your dick. I think when the time comes, you'll learn everything you can about parenting, and do your best to be a good dad."

Her hand was very warm through the thin material of his shirt. Mel glanced to his right, caught a glimpse of her boob—the shirt was hugging her pretty tightly—and looked back at his feet. He could almost feel Rachel's smirk.

"And, for what it is worth, I don't remember ever hearing any of Jordie's boyfriends making her cum."

It was Mel's turn to tilt his head. Rachel's smirk turned into a smile.

"I heard her fake it. She'd moan, loud. Real porn star noises. But she told me, after that last limpdick cheater put her out, that she'd never cum with anyone else. Not once," Rachel said.

It was the kind of information that Mel didn't know what to do with. Thankfully, the dryer buzzed. They got up together to fold and carry it upstairs. With luck, Mel might get a few hours of sleep before he had to get up and go to work again. Yet he had a feeling that image of Rachel, seated on the other side of the door, watching her sister have sex, would stay lodged in his brain for a long time.

They parted in the hallway, Mel to 501, Rachel to 502. He left her with one last thought.

"Thanks, by the way," he said. "For being here. It really helps having someone to talk to about all this. Especially since we can't really talk to Jordan yet. I'm glad you're here."

Rachel smiled. It was a tired smile, but there was a hint of color in her cheeks. And she punched his shoulder playfully.

It was the first time she had done that without denying she'd suck his dick. Mel wasn't sure if that was a given now, or if it represented a change in their relationship. As she shuffled back in to remake his bed, Mel realized he wasn't sure which possibility made him less nervous.