Natural Insemination Ch. 05

"You have a point," The doctor again agrees with him, but only initially, and then points out the error of his logic. She explains it to him by comparing my condition to something he can better relate to. She actually compares me to an automobile.

"Take a rough running engine," She uses as an example. "It could be caused by low octane fuel, but then maybe the fuel pump is about to fail, or maybe the engine has a partially clogged fuel injector. It could also be from a bad fuel line, charcoal canister, or maybe you have a bad plug."

Her knowledge of engine mechanics is impressive. Not that I would know, but my husband nods with her every remark. I can tell by his reaction that he understands perfectly.

"Medicine can be very much like engine mechanics, except we can't easily open the hood to take a look at the inner mechanics," She goes on to explain. "The problem could be a fuel line, for instance, which would be equivalent to a blocked tube in your scrotal sac. Would you want us to open the hood, so to speak, give you an operation to take a closer look?"

"Oh no!" My husband squirms in his chair in reaction to her proposal.

"Of course you wouldn't," She acknowledges his predictable response. "Thus you see the problem. Your wife's inability to conceive children could be caused by one of several potential problems. We could proceed in a very methodical method and eliminate one problem at a time, but this would take a long time, require several operations, and be very uncomfortable for both you and your wife. It would also involve some pain, for instance, if we operated on your scrotal sack."

Again he squirms in his chair.

"That is why I prefer a brute force approach," She sits back up in her chair to indicate the completion of her little speech. "My approach is safe, easy, and doesn't involve any pain on the part of anyone. It's also perfectly natural. It has a proven track record and is highly effective. The only uncomfortable aspect is the fact you must allow your wife to receive sexual intercourse from other men. That is, you must allow your wife to be fucked, in common language, to be repeatedly fucked by other men."

Her use of the more vulgar term gives me a start. I concentrate mostly on the word: fucked. I concentrate on it so hard that I miss the rest of what she tries to tell me. All I can think of is Richard and how good it felt when he fucked me harder and longer than I had ever been fucked before.

"Besides, what difference does it really matter if your wife has intercourse with just one man or with several?" The doctor goes on with her argument while I recall the experience with Richard.

"The first time is usually the hardest for the husband," She explains to him. "But soon it will seem almost second nature to you. You may have already met the two husbands out in the waiting room when you arrived?" She asks in the form of a question.

He silently nods his head.

"Well, their wives are receiving their treatment right now," She looks at her watch to check. "Actually, the first one should be about done by now, but in any case I hope you noticed how comfortable and normal they both behaved. Their masculinity was not affected. They were still watching sports on the TV. I believe they were watching the baseball playoffs."

"Well, yes," My husband agrees out loud.

"Several?" I quietly say at the same time. My eyes open wide. I belatedly understand her words. I say almost under my breath, too soft for them to notice.

"I guess you do have a point," My husband speaks over me. The two of them continue their conversation as though I never said anything at all. "I suppose I should just face the facts. I guess it would be all right if she went through with it."

Finally, he agrees. He finally gives his approval, but I hardly hear him.

"Several?" I question louder the second time. "Hold on! You said several," I look up to see Dr. Palin already standing up from her chair.

"Of course," She looks back down on me as if it should be obvious.

"But that means more than one?" I sit stupefied. "But that would mean, you know, more than one!" I say it with shock. Up until now I had assumed the doctor would simply pick out one of the men for me, but she suggests the "treatments" might actually come from different men. I can't believe the possibility.

"Why, of course!" She expresses in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it should be perfectly obvious to me. "There naturally will be more than one male performing the procedure. If there was only one, then the father of your eventual baby would be known, and that would lead to all sorts of problems with paternity lawsuits and whatever." She throws up her hand in exasperation. "Multiple males are a better option, as both of you must see.

I stop breathing. I hear the words but can't quite believe what she says. Not just one? Multiple males? The words echo in my brain. I suddenly realize I will be fucked by more than one man, by more than just Richard. That means Richard will almost certainly be one of the men to fuck me; probably Jason too. I look to my husband in an attempt to gage his reaction, but he doesn't appear to be particularly bothered by it. If anything, I sense relief from him.

"I suppose that would prevent any lasting relationships from forming," He says to my surprise.

"That too!" The doctor agrees with him. "The only relationships will be sexual. To your wife, the males will be nothing but tools. They will be objects for her to use. Pardon my abruptness, but they will be nothing more than cocks for her to use. She will use them for what they were intended to be used for, and then she will turn around and discard the men like she would a piece of trash."

I have a hard time breathing. Her words echo back and forth in my head: Tool? Object? Trash? Her choice of words excites me. They sound so arousing. I've heard them before, but only in relation to women. I've read about women who were sold into sexual bondage, who became pleasure slaves to rich sheiks or kings. Having the same term refer to a man sounds strange, especially to a man like Richard. He's so much stronger than me. He could easily throw me aside if he wanted. Richard could never be a slave, much less a pleasure slave to someone like me, yet at the same time he would be.

"We'll put your wife on a schedule where she receives treatment from a different male each day," The doctor speaks mostly to my husband. "That will make it more difficult to determine who the real father might be. Later on, if there is any particular male she likes more than the others, we'll put him on the schedule more often. Likewise, if there is any male she doesn't care for, anyone who maybe plays too rough for her taste, then we can take him off the schedule too."

I briefly consider DNA testing and then realize how ridiculous her reasoning sounds. If I really wanted to find out the real father of any potential child, then I would only need to order up a DNA test to find out, but thankfully my husband appears ignorant of this.

"I guess that makes sense," He stupidly agrees instead. He fails to notice the heat radiating off my body, the perspiration forming on my brow. He fails to comprehend the significance of what the Doctor tells us.

"Now I need to go on to see one more patient who should already be patiently waiting for me," She does a quick check of her watch once again. "Stop by the front desk to arrange the specifics. My receptionist will have a few medical release forms you will need to sign. He'll also assist you in the particulars, such as with scheduling. We may not be able to get you started right away, but I would expect in the next month or two."

Her mention of the receptionist gets me excited, but then the delay of a month or two disappoints. I was hoping to start now, like maybe even today, but then realize of course I will have to wait. I'm not her only patient. Her men are limited in how many sessions they can have in one day.

Before I realize it, she's already gone. I still sit in the chair, probably looking stupid, with my husband standing and ready to go. It has already taken longer than expected, and then I think of meeting with Richard once again before I have to go.

* * * * *

I am happy to see Richard once again sitting behind the counter when we walk back out into the reception area. The flat-screen television monitor continues to display the game. Only one of the husbands remains. The other must have finished, I realize, or rather his wife finished with her treatment. We've been talking to the doctor for a long while. I'm surprised both men haven't left by now.

"You want me to handle this?" I look to Richard and then to the television monitor. "There's probably not much for you to do anyway. I'll just see when they want me to start."

My husband hesitates. He looks to the counter to his right and then up to the game on his left. He looks as if he weighs a difficult decision.

I, meanwhile, hold my breath. I wait with anxious anticipation. Nervous thoughts come to mind. What if I let something slip in front of Richard? Or what if Richard mentions what we did? It could ruin all my plans. My husband could still change his mind. He could still drag me out of the office.

"If you still want to go through with it?" He eventually asks with a glimmer of doubt sounding in his voice. "Are you still sure about this?"

"I'm willing to give it a try," I force myself to act as if being fucked by a handsome young man with an oversized cock will be a great sacrifice. "I really don't think it will be so bad. The first time will be the worse, just like the doctor said, but then I'm sure it will get easier."

Actually, I hope it never gets any easier. I want it to always feel like the first time, the same way it did 5 weeks ago when Richard showed me what I was missing. Now I want to know what else I might have been missing, and then there are all those other men to show me more.

"I suppose she could be right," My husband eventually comes around. "How bad can it really be?"

He asks while looking at the one remaining husband still watching the game. The stranger watches intently, apparently not bothered at all by the fact his wife is getting fucked in one of the rooms behind us. This gives me an idea, and I decide to take advantage of it.

"He doesn't seem too concerned," I give my husband a nod and look in the same direction.

"You're right!" This makes him feel better. "It's probably too lake to back out anyway."

Indeed it is, but not for the reasons he suspects. It's too late because I've already been fucked. As he goes off to watch the useless baseball game, I turn to the counter and to the man who fucked me.

"Hello," I greet simply.

"Oh, hello," Richard looks up from his computer monitor to ask. "So, what's the verdict?"

He gets right to the point. I realize the doctor hasn't yet told him. In reply, I say nothing, only smile, and then lean forward over the counter in my low neckline blouse.

"Oh, I see," He understands my unspoken communication perfectly. "I can hardly wait," He says in little more than a whisper.

"Neither can I!" I agree, and then let out a sigh as I think what it will be like. Next time he won't need to pull out at the end. He will be able to unload inside me, fill me to capacity. The five weeks since our last sexual encounter seems like a year ago. I don't want to wait any longer.

"I suppose Dr. Palin asked you to stop by to arrange the details?" He composes himself before I do.

"Well, yes," I weakly reply.

"Then there's some legal forms you will need to fill out," He turns to a file cabinet and pulls out a folder's worth of papers. "Your husband too. Most are self explanatory. You can always call if you have any questions, or come by if you need any help in filling them out."

He smiles as he says this, letting me know I can come by any time with questions. I wonder if he might want me to come by for other reasons too.

"I also have a few questions for you," He gets out a second folder and opens it. It's the same type folder the doctor used on our first visit. "I need to know about your schedule so we can arrange the treatments."

He starts out asking a series of innocent questions about my work schedule, like when I start in the morning and when I come home at night. I work as a waitress, which makes my hours later than most. I normally leave at about 10:00 AM to serve the noon-day crowd, take my lunch break in the middle of the afternoon, and then come back at about 4:00 PM for the evening shift. He thinks this is perfect. The doctor prefers the "treatments" are evenly spaced, he tells me, twice per day, as close to 12 hours apart as possible.

"Now you can either come in here to the office, or we can come over to your house if it would make you feel more comfortable," He suggests the first treatment in the morning, at home, and just after my husband leaves for work. He says most of the female patients prefer it at home and around familiar settings. He thinks it best if my husband isn't around, at least at the start, and I think this is an excellent idea. The idea of a stranger coming over for the purpose of having sex sounds so dirty, but at the same time I am excited by the prospect.

"The evenings may be more difficult given your late working hours," He sounds more pessimistic about my second fuck of the day. "How about we arrange for you to first come in here to the office? You can come in after you get done with work. Later, you may want to arrange with your partners to meet them at their place or maybe even at your own home once your husband gets accustomed to the procedure."

I have a hard time imagining my husband ever getting accustomed to the idea of his wife getting fucked by another man. It will be difficult for me as well, the idea of going into our bedroom with another man while my husband sits in the next room.

"The office sounds good," I tell him my preference. I am tempted to go to the apartment or house of one of the men too, which makes me wonder how many men there will be.

"Exactly how many?" I interrupt his line of questioning with one of my own. "I mean, you know, for the treatments?"

"Didn't the doctor already tell you?" He questions back. "She wants the treatments to occur twice per day, for as many days as possible."

"Not that!" I shake my head and smile at the prospect of what I look forward to. "I mean how many men? How many different men will there be?"

"Oh, that!" He understands. "It will be partially up to you and what traits you desire most in a male."

He tells me the absolute minimum is five. The doctor insists on at least 5 different men, preferably in sequence, taking turns with a different man each time. More is preferred. He emphasizes the need to make it as difficult as possible to determine who the real father may be.

"And then of course you can request certain males for repeat sessions," He adds, seemingly speaking about himself. "Or if you want, you can request a total stranger if you're in the mood for someone new," He offers an equally erotic alternative possibility. "We have over fifty inseminators at the moment, so we have a wide variety. You just need to keep in mind that there are other patients besides yourself, and some of the males tend to be more in demand than others."

Fifty different men sounds like a lot. I could have a different man every night, but then I also wonder what causes the demand for some of the men to go up. I look across to Richard and wonder how much demand other women might have in him. I wonder about the demand for his long cock length, or maybe some of the patients simply like to watch him cum.

"What about you?" I can't help but ask.

"I'm sure it could be arranged," He seems to like this idea too. "I'm booked fairly regularly, but the doctor might want me to start. We already know each other. It would be more comfortable for you that way."

Indeed it would be! I can't wait to get started on him, but then I think of all the other women he must have started with too. A twinge of jealousy rises within me. It seems wrong to have sex with someone who has also been with so many other women, but then I think of the vast experience it gives him too. He could teach me so much. I could really learn from him.

"Now, back to your schedule," He soon returns to his questionnaire after our pleasant little diversion. "When was your last menstrual period?"

He asks an intensely personal question in a perfectly calm sort of way. It initially surprises me, the personal nature of his question, but then I realize the reason he asks it. He needs to know, of course, to properly time my treatment.

"About two weeks ago," I tell him after a short pause.

"I need a specific date," He wants more detail. "Do you remember which day of the week it ended?"

"A Sunday," I recall. "It was a Saturday night, and then Sunday morning I was clear."

It feels strange to be talking to a man about such intimate affairs. It would be different if he was a medical doctor. It certainly would be a lot less uncomfortable if not for the fact he already fucked me. He has no medical training. In fact, he will be the one to administer the medical treatment.

"Then we want to start your treatments on the 22ed," He looks at the calendar on the wall to figure it out.

The 22ed is over two weeks away, two whole weeks! I don't want to wait so long. I would rather get started sooner, like right away, like maybe in one of the back rooms right now. My husband is enjoying the game. He would hardly notice.

And then the news turns even worse. He types something into his computer and concludes I may need to wait another whole cycle because not enough men will be available. Something about not having enough resources, he says, which really means not having the men available to stick themselves inside me.

"I really don't want to have to wait that long," I attempt to get on the schedule sooner.

"Neither do I," He smiles back at me. "You were really something, you know. The best I had in a long time. I'll have to talk to the doctor and see if she can accommodate you sooner."

I blush with the compliment. It isn't a normal compliment; not a compliment a girl receives every day. I certainly hope the doctor will be able to accommodate me. Two weeks will be a long time, and then four additional weeks on top of it sounds close to forever. What if my husband changes his mind in the mean time? What if he backs out? I express my worries to Richard, looking back over my shoulder to check on my husband as I do so.

"Then I most certainly will do the best I can," He worries about my husband too. "But I can't give any promises, not right now. Perhaps I can arrange to come over for another warm up session, like your last one, maybe while your husband is away to work."

I think this is an excellent idea. I almost jump up and down with excitement. I want to cry out my desire for him. I hope he can come over as soon as possible, maybe even come over a couple of times.

"Now about your preferences," He turns the page and goes on with another list of questions.

"Preferences? I don't understand.

"Your preferences when it comes to sexual intercourse," He explains. "The doctor prefers to make the experience as pleasurable as possible, so she likes to choose partners who are physically attracted to each other. She wants the experience to be as erotic as possible."

He asks me about my preferences in men. Blond or brunette? Short or tall? Muscular or skinny? Even eye color. I find myself describing the man sitting in front of me. I describe my husband too. The two of them really aren't all that much different. The exception, of course, is where it counts the most.

"Size?" He eventually asks about that too.