So I was set up

Brain slug kinks aren't human kinks. It's thought that some arise out of improper neural connections. Certain sensations become associated with pleasure, or cross-wired to erogenous zones. Taste might be wired directly to sexual excitement, so that a fresh pickle might literally cause an orgasm. Or the color red might tickle the same nerve as a nipple or clitoris. The human brain's ability to form new emotional connections and associations can also lead to complicated situations where a brain slug host associates sexual excitement or emotional comfort with a particular individual. This isn't love in the normally understood sense. It's like having a favorite vibrator or security blanket. In **** cases, this can lead to obsession.
—Slug Sutra, Chapter 4

"Would it be okay if I showed Rachel the video?" Mel asked. "I think she should see it."

Jordan gave a thumb's up as water cascaded over her back. They had woken up a few minutes late; Soong had shaken Mel softly by the shoulder, and he had blinked his eyes open in time to see Soong's hand dip down to just brush Jordan's skin. The blonde had uncurled herself immediately, gone from asleep to alert in less than a second.

They tugged him off the couch and toward the shower. Mel wasn't sure exactly what was going on until the naked Jordan slipped into the shower behind him and drew the curtain. Water sprayed. Mel rubbed the bar of yellow soap in his palms until a lather built up. Jordan faced him expectantly. He didn't know where to look, staring up at this tall woman, her breasts just right there, and Mel was not sure where to put his hands.

So he asked the question. She gave the thumb's up. Then she took the soap from him and began to rub suds into her breasts.

It was less sexy than he had always imagined being in a shower with a woman would be. They did a little dance as they sought to get soap over all the important bits, and then alternated who would get the hot water. Jordan was direct, no-nonsense, lathering her hairless crotch with swift efficiency, scrubbing arms, legs, pits, and face. Carefully avoiding the slug on her neck, which had turned a dark emerald. It could handle the water, but avoided the soap.

Within three minutes, they were basically clean—the water turned off, to leave them drunk and shivering—and they were toweling off. Soong had set out their work clothes for the day, and the pair of them dressed in the living room. There wasn't really a need for anything else. The pair stepped out into the hallway only a minute later than they normally would.

Her hand found his, and Mel felt the breeze hit his face from the west, cool and almost smelling of the sea. They walked in silence, fresh and clean, the echo of a lost voice still in her ears. Holding hands made them a compact wedge against the crowd. People saw it, respected the space, and moved. Like small fish that shoal to present a bigger profile, scare off predators, Mel thought to himself.

A part of him wondered what it would be like to take a longer shower with Jordan. Unnecessary, he knew, for purposes of cleanliness, but—for all the sex they'd had, ittedly oral, he realized he'd never really explored a woman's body. Had barely touched a boob. Didn't know how best to touch a breast, to elicit pleasure without hurting her. That would be another thing he knew he had to learn, if his girlfriends would let him, or show him.

Mel's pants twitched. The brain slug shifted on Jordan's neck, a lighter green now, sensory tentacles extended towards him. There hadn't been time for any blowjobs or masturbation this morning, since they were running late. Maybe tonight, when they get home.

It was amazing the fantasies that could spring from the anticipation of sex. The grand scenarios of the mind that made Mel's pants strain by the time they arrived at the Cosmic Fill-Up. Mel was fixed on the idea of three women licking his prick at once, faces moving together, tongues running up and down the hard shaft, when he saw Detective Macelroy and Amelia by the coffee machine, Li'l Mel in a striped sling like someone had skinned a blue tiger.

The brain bat had their turban and shades on, the broad-shouldered trench coat that made them look bigger than they really were, the cop badge hanging about their neck, quite visible. Amelia looked exhausted, in a knee-length puffy black coat that Mel hadn't seen before. There were bags under her eyes, but a happy smile on her face. Mel grabbed the swifter and angled it towards where they were standing.

"Mr. Arkwright," Macelroy said. "Good morning."

"Hi, Mel!" Amelia said. "Offer's open! You want a quick little—" she made a motion with her tongue, distorting her cheek, "—in the bathroom?"

Mel smiled and nodded.

"Detective. Amelia. Thank you, I'm still in a relationship," he said. "And on the job."

Li'l Mel turned his head and opened his eyes. He smiled when he saw Mel, and Mel smiled back.

"Actually, would you mind holding him for a second? I'm not pregnant anymore, but I still have to pee every fifteen minutes, I swear," Amelia said. She didn't wait for him to answer, just set down her coffee cup, slipped the loop of the carry-bag off of her neck and over Mel's, then hurried off toward the toilets, leaving Mel with a warm, living bundle in his arms.

"Sit down, Mr. Arkwright," Macelroy said. "We should talk for a moment."

They sat at one of the tables. Mel had never held a real baby, but high school home economics had covered the very basics: don't drop them, the little head and neck. He had even changed the peeing doll without getting any on him.

"I take it the last few days have been eventful," the detective said. This close, Mel could see that the color of the brain bat's skin was different than earlier. It blended seamlessly with the natural skin tone of their host, which made Mel think of terrestrial octopuses. He wondered if that was something brain slugs could do, too.

"It's been hectic," Mel itted. "Can brain bats change their skin color like terrestrial octopuses?"

"Just the tentacle-arms," Macelroy confirmed. "In our native environment, the main body would remain buried or concealed, with only the arms exposed. Ambush predation. Hence the turban."

"Right," Mel said. "That makes sense."

"I imagine at this point you may be questioning why you, a perfectly normal, healthy 18-year-old with no family connections and higher education commitments, have ended up in a situation where you're regularly having oral sex with brain slug hosts," she said.

Mel felt his stomach sink a little. Li'l Mel burbled, and Mel gently jogged him up and down.

"Go on," he said.

"The rent-controlled apartment, the basic universal income, is part of a pilot program," Macelroy explained. "Part of the agreement between the federal government and the Seacouver Hive. Without telling the lower, local levels of government."

"Like you," Mel said.

"Like me," Macelroy confirmed. "But I went asking about the program after the incident with Mr. Massimi. It turns out that the feds have quietly been trying to pair together appropriate, unattached, and healthy young men with new brain slug hosts as a way to provide for their unique nutritional needs."

"Ah," Mel said. The cold sensation in his gut spread. "So I was set up."

Macelroy spread her hands, palms up, in a way that said more 'I am not currently holding a weapon' than the disarming gesture she intended. The nails, he noticed, were carefully manicured. "Think of it more as a matchmaking service. One which, I gather, has produced disappointing results for the most part. Individuals like Massimi who attempt to take sexual advantage of the hosts are unfortunately common. I gather that so far, you are the shining success of the little experiment."

"I've only been there for a few weeks," Mel said. Then a dark worry grabbed at him. "They're not going to end it, are they?"

"Not according to my informants. The matter is partly political, and the Seacouver Hive is also willing to tolerate a certain amount of sexual harassment or **** if it serves longer-term goals. I doubt you'll have any difficulty making rent for the foreseeable future," Macelroy said with a smile. "However, your case has attracted attention from the community."

"I'm going to feel like an idiot just repeating things you said, but when you say 'the community,' you mean what exactly?" Mel asked.

"The other extraterrestrials," Macelroy said, bringing her hands together in front of you. "They'd like to meet you. All of us, whether we were born on Earth or not, need to be able to integrate into human communities. Yours is the dominant species, both by numbers and culturally, and while there are a few single-species enclaves, they still have to deal with humans politically, economically, and socially. They'd like to get to know you. And it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know them. Hello, Miss Carmichael."

Mel looked up as a familiar warm hand slid onto his bare neck, just above the work collar. She stared at the seated brain bat. Li'l Mel burbled, and Mel rocked him some more.

"This is just talk, right?" Mel said.

"Yes. Once or twice a week, one of the community will meet you to talk. You'd meet representatives of different species, either here or at some other place around the city. If that is all right with both of you?" Macelroy said.

Jordan didn't frown. She did step around Mel and offer her hand, palm up. Macelroy took it. Mel saw Amelia step out from the bathroom and stood to return Li'l Mel to her. She smiled, glanced at where Macelroy and Jordan stood, no longer holding hands. That was quick. Jordan gave Mel a thumb's up.

"Okay," he said. "If Jordan's fine with it, I've no problem—I think I'd like to learn more about the community."

Macelroy stood and smiled.

"Glad to hear it. I'll arrange something soon. Until then," she bowed her turbaned head . . . and then they both left, and Mel retrieved his swifter and gave Jordan a smile and a shrug. Not sure how else to communicate the confusion and curiosity he felt.

It wasn't until some time later that Mel wondered what Jordan, or the Hive mind, thought, seeing him with a baby in his arms.