The air in the Louisiana woods was thick and warm, buzzing with cicadas and the faint, damp smell of moss and mud. Daniel “Danny” Englewood took his usual shortcut, a beaten dirt path behind the old water tower that shaved ten minutes off his walk to The Birch Branch, the local bar where he tended. He was, in his own estimation, the most average guy in Bayou Vert. Average height, average build, brown hair that did nothing interesting, and a face that blended into a crowd. His life was a comfortable, predictable rhythm.

Which is why the flash of polished metal half-burged in a tangle of ferns was so out of place.

“Huh,” Danny muttered, pausing. It wasn’t a beer can. It was a smooth, seamless cylinder about the size of a thermos, made of a dull silver metal that seemed to drink in the afternoon light rather than reflect it. No markings, no seams. Just… alien. He grinned. “Sweet. Space junk.”

Curiosity, that old killer of cats and average bartenders, got the better of him. He knelt, brushed away the dirt, and picked it up. It was cool to the touch, surprisingly light. He shook it gently. Something sloshed inside with a wet, thick sound. His thumbs found what felt like a faint depression near the top. He pressed.

With a soft hiss, a circular cap irised open. Danny peered inside. It was dark, but something moved. Something purple and glistening, coiled at the bottom.

“Whoa, gross, is that a—“

It uncoiled with impossible speed. A slick, violet slug, no bigger than his thumb, launched from the canister. Danny yelped, stumbling back, but it was too fast. It shot straight into his open mouth.

The sensation was instant and overwhelming. It wasn’t slimy or gross; it was warm, like swallowing a shot of the smoothest, most electrifying liquor. A wave of pure, undiluted pleasure crashed through him, starting in his throat and radiating out to his fingertips and toes. His knees buckled. A low, involuntary moan tore from his lips as his whole body shuddered. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight as his cock hardened instantly, straining against the denim. His vision swam with purple spots.

Oh god, what is—this feels—oh fuck—

He collapsed onto the soft forest floor, twitching as the pleasure peaked into a sudden, violent climax. White light exploded behind his eyes, his body seizing for one long, ecstatic moment before everything went black.

***

Danny came to minutes later, blinking up at the canopy of cypress trees. He felt… amazing. Rested. Energized. And weirdly… aware. He sat up, his head perfectly clear. The canister lay empty beside him. He remembered everything: the metal, the slug, the… oh.

He touched his lips. “Did I just… get mouth-fucked by a space worm?”

As if in answer, a new knowledge unfurled in his mind, cool and certain. He could feel it. A new… capacity. Deep in his gut, a warmth coalesced. He concentrated, and a strange pressure built at the base of his testicles

Another slug. He felt its connection, like a phantom limb.
He felt, no KNEW he could eject it at any time, and knew his body would continue to produce more. He felt stronger, he could also feel a slight change in his scent, an aphrodisiac in the very air around him.

The understanding clicked into place. He could make these. He could put them into people. And when he did… he would be in the driver’s seat. Their body, his mind. Their memories, his to browse. A giddy, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of him.

“No way. This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to anyone, ever.”

He stood up, brushing leaves off his worn jeans. The original canister he left, a piece of evidence he didn’t need. Work. He had to get to work. But now, work wasn’t just pulling beers for Sally. It was a… testing ground. A target-rich environment.

He started walking again, a new spring in his step. The Birch Branch was only fifteen minutes away. Sally would be there, prepping for the evening crowd. Sally, with her curves that filled out a blouse like a promise, her sharp tongue and her easy laugh. Sally, who was definitely over 22.

A wide, goofy grin spread across Danny’s average face. Tonight was going to be anything but average.

Quick Actions:
1. Head straight to the bar, eager to see Sally and see your effect on her, your first test subject
2. Experiment a little on the way—maybe find a stranger or something to practice control on? (Ethics are for people without alien slugs).
3. Call your best friend Justin and freak out (in a cool way) about your new powers, offer to show him on a person of his choice.
4. Focus on the sensations in your own body—what else has changed besides slug-production?
5. Hide his erection and try to act normal at work, resisting the temptation for now.
6. Start formulating a plan: who in town would make the best “flesh puppet” to acquire first?