When Alice's old mentors arrived, Tony struggled not to stare. Muriel wore a tight-fitting white tunic that showed every curve, muscles, prominent nipples, even the bumps of her areolae around the nipple and the dimple of her navel. Her grey yoga pants showed off cameltoe and butt cleavage that had Tony's cock painfully protesting inside its iron cage, despite Alice's recent milking. Since none of them would be leaving the apartment for a while, maybe Alice would let him review what he'd learned in the health practicums with Muriel as his guide? The thought made his cock stiffer, the iron cage even more painful.
Staughton didn't look like much. His clothing wasn't as revealing as Muriel's, but it was mismatched: shirt and expensive jacket with denim trousers on his stringy, stooped frame. He and Muriel each carried a small aluminum suitcase.
"Darling," Muriel hugged Alice as Staughton shook Tony's hand, "It's been much too long since we got together! And this must," she hugged him, "be Tony!" He felt her nipples even through his shirt. He smelled cardamom - so that's where Alice got the taste for it - and nervousness. He guessed that those aluminum cases contained all this couple had left in the world. Maybe they had had to leave in a hurry and that was why Muriel was dressed inappropriately?
"You must be exhausted," Alice said as they all squeezed into chairs around the kitchen table and Tony poured out drinks from a cold bottle labeled POE, with the classic raven trademark and the slogan "Pure rainwater and clean grain alcohol," though there was no rain anywhere on this planet.
"We've been through the wringer," Staughton hastily held up his wrist, showing his green med bracelet to reassure them, "And had to scramble to find you. A lot of people are bunking with total strangers," Tony thought he saw a glance at him, then a wink at Muriel, but decided not to notice anything. The conversation did detour once or twice to who was bunking with whom, though, and Alice had obviously decided she couldn't sleep with Tony, which was perfectly reasonable -- except Alice hadn't been reasonable since she'd made Zora kneel, her stunned friend forced to deep-throat Tony until she choked, then thrown her out.
Instead, Alice would share her bed with her old mentor, Staughton, and her other mentor would bunk with Tony. Everybody seemed quite comfortable with that arrangement. Tony was comparing Muriel with Zora. Not lonely, unless Staughton wasn't up to satisfying her needs, but definitely a woman who wanted to project an image of sexual excitement. Unless it was just that she had to dress in a hurry this morning.
They checked the news, but there was nothing new about the crisis. Staughton had heard a rumour that a pioneer crew had triggered a derelict defence system, some kind of mechanically engineered microbial encephalobarrier that messed with emotions and cognitive connections in the mind. "If someone develops paranoia or OCD or rips off their clothes and runs around screaming about sabotage in the environment control system is going to boil us alive or even just wants to talk to you earnestly about their personal relationship with their god, well, don't let them touch you -- alert the Public Order Police!" Tony thought about the disturbing looks on the faces of the couple rutting on the floor of the rec room. Disconnected.
"The only thing in common is a removal of inhibitions," he continued, "They called it the opposite of an inhibitor. Hibitor Syndrome, Hibitor Weapon they want to name it. Or something like that."
"That would explain why the symptoms are so inconsistent: they couldn't engineer anything specifically for humans. But there aren't any aliens on this planet." Muriel observed.
