Two Thousand and Ten Ch. 01

"Erm... none that I can think of." Peter said.

"Good, well then I'll leave you to it." Nurse Beckett said, "Be sure to lock the door, not unless you want any unwanted intrusions."

The nurse left the room and Peter bolted the door as instructed, flipping the lock from 'vacant' to 'occupied'. Alone in the production room, he took in his surroundings. It was quite small, little more than the size of a budget hotel bathroom really. Prominently positioned on the door was a sign that read 'All materials (magazines/DVD's etc.) are the property of East Sussex NHS Trust - please do not remove from production room'. There was a grey, cloth-upholstered couch against one wall and opposite, a low coffee table against the other wall. Above that, mounted on the wall was a small flat screen TV that incorporated a DVD player. On the coffee table there were several items; a small stack of pornographic magazines and a few erotically-themed DVD's that occupied one half of the table and a couple of crisp white towels that occupied the other half. Between the stack of porn and the towels was a small clear plastic cup with a white lid. In one corner of the room stood a small bin with a flip top lid above which, mounted on the wall, was a tissue dispenser.

There was nothing else for it but to get down to business, he picked up the sample cup and removed its lid. Peter removed his shoes and socks and then took off his trousers and pants for the third time that day to leave him naked from the waist down. He looked at the couch. Suddenly it occurred to him what the towels were there for. He took one and draped it over the couch - he was sure that over the years the couch had been in this room, hundreds of men's naked buttocks had sat upon it. He didn't like the thought of his bottom sitting on something that hundreds of other men's exposed backsides had sat on so he used the towel to sit on. It was obviously its intended purpose, just like the paper sheeting on the examination bed at the sexual health clinic earlier that day.

He looked at the small stack of porn. The covers of the various publications all bore pictures of women in numerous lewd and provocative poses with heaving, unnaturally large looking breasts crowned with large erect nipples. Peter flipped open one publication called 'Danish Babes' - it contained more of the same, although the images within were much more explicit than the ones that adorned their covers. Naked flesh was everywhere, huge boobs thrust forward in each contorted pose, legs wide apart in order to give the viewer the most explicitly gratuitous view of gaping vulvas - all devoid of pubic hair of course - framing the shimmering moist pink flesh of exposed inner labia and the little erotic hyper centre of the subject's clitoris. One picture, a particularly explicit close-up, showed a woman looking straight down the camera lens. Her legs were akimbo and her hands were reaching around under her buttocks and were parting her labia in order to give the viewer an unobstructed view right up into her gaping vagina. Her anus was clearly on display also, as were her large, heaving mega-tits.

It was images such as these that Peter found particularly distasteful. He didn't have much time for pornography - not from any particularly moral standpoint; if the women in these magazines wanted to display themselves in such a graphic manner for the entire world to see, he figured, then that was their business. Neither was it from any pro-feminist standpoint - Peter was no feminist, in fact he rather disliked the one-sided nature of the feminist movement, preferring instead to align himself as a 'humanist' - a follower of a movement that improved equality for everyone, male or female. Feminists, he figured always wanted women to be equal to men, which was fine in itself. What had become clear to him however, was that feminists didn't want men to be equal to women. They wanted to destroy male privilege whilst at the same time preserving female privilege. Peter despised double-standards, and to him the feminist movement was mortally infected with them.

The simple truth was that porn just really didn't do anything for him. He much preferred to use his imagination, that way the vision of feminine strength, beauty and vulnerability he would masturbate to would be personal to him and not something that countless other men had lusted after and masturbated to, and in some cases, masturbated on. So Peter shunned the porn and instead closed his eyes to conjure up his favourite mental image of his fantasy woman from his favourite TV show.

This time she was tied to the mast of an old sailing ship as it tossed and turned in a stormy sea. She was totally helpless and Peter was the last man on board manning the helm, the rest of the crew having been thrown overboard in the immense swell. With the storm finally abated, Peter found himself alone with his attractive and totally helpless companion. He should untie her. He should take care of her, as his male instinct to protect told him to. Instead, he finds himself reaching up under her layers of skirts and petticoats and stroking the crotch of her underwear. She whimpers in protest but, unable to free herself from her bonds, she has no choice but to resign herself to the fact that the potent male stood before her is going to molest her and there is nothing she can do about it.

In the real world, Peter stroked his penis, bringing himself to erection.

Peter removes his hand to the apparent relief of his helpless young female shipmate. Her relief is to be short-lived however. Peter retreats below decks and takes the sharpest knife he can find from the ship's galley. He bolts back to the mast where his quarry stands helplessly, her face contorted with fear as she catches sight of the knife in his hand. He slowly steps forward as the girl, frozen with fear, whimpers and sobs before him. Peter takes hold of the layers of silk and cotton that clothe her below her waist, he offers the blade to them and with a quick and decisive slash, he slices through the layers of material and hacks her skirts and petticoats to ribbons.

All that now clothes her below her waist are her bloomers. Peter stares for a moment at the lacy and finely crafted material, it would be a shame to have to destroy such an obviously expensive and beautiful garment. Nevertheless, Peter brings his knife up to the waist of the trembling girl. He gently slides the knife into the waistband of the bloomers and then, with a single slash, tears through the expensive material. He repeats the action on the other side and with a final flourish, he yanks off what remains of the terrified young maiden's undergarments leaving her naked below the waist.

Naked below the waist as Peter was in reality. As his fantasy progressed, he became more and more aroused. His penis as solidly erect as it could possibly be, his right hand pumped away. His foreskin repeatedly travelling up and over the sensitive head of his penis, delivering delicious stimulation to him as he masturbated.

Back in the realm of fantasy, Peter regards the sight of the half naked girl before him. She whimpers and pleads for her captor to let her go. But Peter is deaf to her pleas, preferring instead to gaze at her virgin cleft, only lightly obscured by soft blonde pubic hair. The terrified girl sobs ever more profusely until her fear reaches a point at which her body betrays her. A golden stream of urine escapes her naked cleft, raining down onto the wooden deck below her, bathing her naked legs and feet. The girl sobs uncontrollably as Peter licks his lips.

So close now!! Peter thought to himself as his hand pumped furiously on his straining erection.

Peter stands before his quarry, her urine reduced to a mere dribble down her naked legs. He unfastens his breeches and reveals his fully erect masculinity to her. She cries at the sight of the member before her. The member she now knows is destined to penetrate her. Peter steps forward once more until the very tip of his erection grazes the naked cleft of the young woman's vulva. Placing his hands on her hips he decisively thrusts himself into her. She screams as she feels the heat of an erect penis enter her for the first time, tearing her hymen in twain. Her blood escapes her vulva and trickles along the length of Peter's member. He shows her no mercy - he thrusts himself rampantly inside her, ravishing her remorselessly as she cries and sobs and begs him to stop. In a matter of moments he erupts inside her, mixing the blood from her hymen with his semen, feeling it overflow from her vagina and trickling down his testicles.

That moment was the moment that the switch was flipped between the worlds of fantasy and reality. Peter, mere seconds from ejaculating in the real world, suddenly remembered that he had to make sure he came into the sample pot. He picked it up and aimed his straining erection at it just in time. His semen erupted forth from his penis directly into the small plastic cup. Panting heavily, he released his spent penis from his grip.

He immediately felt disgusted at himself for fantasising such a deplorable act with a defenceless young woman. But at least he knew that his fantasies would always remain just that. Fantasies, and nothing more than that - in real life he had much more respect for women.

Peter regarded his ejaculate in the bottom of the sample cup. Of course the sight of his semen was nothing new to him, but this time was different. This time the greyish-white fluid at the bottom of the little pot represented a moment of destiny. It represented whether or not the arrangement with Alison and Becky, an arrangement that he now anticipated excitedly, had the possibility of a successful outcome.

He sealed the sample cup and left it on the table. He stood up and took a few tissues from the wall-mounted dispenser and cleaned his penis before dumping the tissues in the bin. He retrieved his underwear and his trousers, made himself decent again, pressed the red button by the door and made his exit from Production Room 3.

Friday, February 12th 2010 - 07:20am

Peter checked his mail in the lobby while he waited for Lindi. There was a bank statement and two separate letters from credit card companies asking him to consider their product. There was also a glossy invitation from his local BMW dealership inviting him to an event and to take a test-drive in the latest 5-Series. But there were two letters in particular that caught his attention - both of which bore the distinctive blue logo of the National Health Service.

Lindi spied them as she came up behind her friend.

"NHS eh?" she said, "Could they be about what I think they're about?"

"Morning, Lin." Peter replied.

"Dear Sir, we regret to inform you that following your recent tests you have been diagnosed with chronic genital warts and are also infertile." Lindi teased.

"Shut up you!" Peter replied.

"Well... aren't you going to open them?"

"Not with you here. It's kind of... personal, y'know."

"Sorry," Lin said, "of course it is. Just remember, if it's bad news - and I'm pretty sure it isn't - I'll be there for you, okay?"

"Yeah sure," Peter said, "thanks Lin."

"Anyway, time to look lively," Lindi said, "work beckons, and we'll be late if we aren't careful."

Friday, February 12th 2010 - 10:12am

Peter had been staring at the unopened letters ever since he first sat at his desk earlier that morning. With a sudden flash of determined resolve, he picked one of them up and began to tear it open.

No, not here, he thought to himself, it has to be somewhere private. So he went downstairs to the small staff lounge - it was usually pretty quiet in there at this time of the morning. To his relief he found it totally deserted. He tore open the first letter, briefly scanned through its contents and sighed with relief. No evidence of any STI's or any other genito-urinary abnormalities.

So far, so good.

He opened the second letter and briefly took in its content. He had to read it twice to make sure.

"Bloody hell!!" He exclaimed.

It was one particular sentence that caught his eye - 'Higher than normal concentration of healthy spermatozoa.' His eyes almost popped out upon reading it.

Not only did his sperm count reveal that his semen was perfectly fertile, it was even better than average. Much better in fact. The last sentence of the letter even invited him to consider donating his sperm to a sperm bank to help other childless couples.

Peter whipped out his phone and sent out two text messages. The first one he sent to Lindi.

'Jst opnd tst rslts - evrthng ok, will c u l8tr'

The second message he sent to Alison.

'Jst rcvd tst rslts - no sti's, sprm count nrml, will email cpy 2 u.' He didn't mention that his sperm count was better than normal, he didn't want to be seen as being too boastful.

He gathered up his letters and headed back upstairs feeling as though he could fly up there if he wanted. He was on a massive high and his good mood didn't go unnoticed by his colleagues.

Friday, February 12th 2010 - 5:08pm

"Hiya, stud!" Lindi said as Peter picked her up outside the school gates, "I'd better be careful sitting next to you. From what I hear, your cum is potent enough to make a woman pregnant without you even touching her!"

"Y'know, that's alarmingly not far from the truth!" Peter said. He handed her the letter, she scanned through it quickly as Peter pulled into the traffic.

"Oh my word!" She exclaimed, "Considerably higher than normal?!? You're a beast!!"

"Amazing isn't it?" Peter grinned.

"It's more than that." Lindi said, "I was only teasing a minute ago - but it looks like I really will have to be careful whenever I sit next to you!"

"I scanned that letter, and the one from the sexual health clinic, and emailed them to Alison. Her reaction was almost the same as yours."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she says she'd like to meet up this evening to make arrangements for 'the event' as she calls it. I'd really like you to be there Lin, would you be free at 8?"

"Sure - where are we meeting them?"

"I suggested meeting at The Red Lion, it should be nice and quiet there."

"Sounds like a plan, as they say."

Friday, February 12th 2010 - 8:05pm

The Red Lion wasn't quiet - it was quiz night. There wasn't a single table free in the bar area and it was filled with noisy chatter. The restaurant area was quiet however, so they met Alison and Becky in there instead.

After greeting each other and ordering drinks, the quartet got down to business.

"Well, this is really starting to get exciting isn't it!" Becky said as she took a sip of lager.

"I guess." Peter said, "When were you two thinking of doing the deed?"

"Well, I've been tracking my cycle for a few months now and I'd estimate the best time would be between the 25th and the 27th." Alison said.

"What, as in this month?" Lindi said.

"Of course, we'd need you to be there, Peter" Becky said.

"Me? Be there?" Peter said, "Why? I mean, surely all I need to do is pretty much what I did the other day. I don't need to be with you to do that do I?"

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that." Alison said.

A thought occurred to Lindi.

"Oh, I get it, you need him to produce his semen immediately before implantation." She said, "So that it is as fresh as possible."

"We-ell..." Alison said, "unfortunately it isn't as simple as that either."

"Then what do you mean?" Peter said impatiently.

"Well I... basically I need you to... y'know... have sex with me." Alison said.

"You what?!?" Peter exclaimed, "Why? For pity's sake??"

"Well, for several reasons really." Becky began, "Firstly, there's the matter of success rates. Our fertility specialist told us that natural insemination has a higher success rate than artificial insemination. It could take up to four or even five cycles before it is successful. If it's timed correctly, there is a possibility that we could conceive straight away using natural insemination."

"And then there's my parents of course." Alison took over, "My parents are members of a Methodist church in Somerset. I mean, they're great parents, don't get me wrong, they were surprisingly open-minded and accepting of my 'alternative lifestyle' when I came out to them. They're both excited about the prospect of becoming grandparents, but my dad was adamant about one thing. 'No grandchild of mine', he told me, 'is going to be the product of masturbation.'"

"I thought you said that he told you that 'I don't want my grandchild to be sired by some random wanker'" Becky said, imitating her partner's father's voice.

"Well, he said that too." Alison said, "Look Peter, I know that this must come as a bit of a shock but believe me, and I don't mean to offend you here, but for me the idea of having sex with a man is pretty off-putting. I mean, I wouldn't go so far as to say that the very thought of having sex with you turns my stomach or anything, you're a very nice man Peter, and really good looking but, having sex with a man has always featured towards the very bottom of my bucket list."

"Erm... no offence taken... I think." Peter said.

"Well, I must admit it's a bit unorthodox," Lindi said, "but I can see that it makes sense to do it that way if it keeps your dad on-side."

"So, will you do it?" Becky asked.

Peter thought for a moment. It was a huge thing to ask of him, given his personal circumstances, and it wasn't the way he had imagined it would happen to him.

"That's why you wanted me to have an STI check isn't it." Peter said.

"Yes." Alison confirmed, "I just wanted to be sure there weren't any risks."

"Okay," Peter said with a heavy sigh, "I guess I'll do it."

Alison and Becky both exclaimed with joy at the news. They got up and hugged him tightly and told him how grateful they were for everything he was doing for them. Peter meanwhile, could only wonder if he was doing the right thing. He had always imagined that it would be different than this.

"There is just one more thing..." Alison said as she broke her embrace, "you see, in order to improve our chances of conceiving, we'd need to do it together more than once."

"How many times?" Lindi asked.

"As many times as we, I mean, as many times as Peter can manage during the three days when I'm most likely to conceive." Alison said.

"Just make sure you don't wear him out!" Lindi said, jokily.

The business side of the arrangement taken care of, the quartet settled in to an evening of getting to know more about each other. Peter was especially fascinated about Alison's astronomy and Alison in return had promised to come along to one of Peter's gigs.

"What's the band called?" She asked.

"Young Lust," Peter said, "We're a Pink Floyd tribute band. I play lead guitar so I get to act out my fantasy of being David Gilmour whenever I play."

"Cool," Becky said, "I love the Floyd. I've got two vinyl copies of 'Dark side of the moon' at home - one that I actually play and the other still in its wrapping. I mean, how sad is that! It's a sort of investment you see, it could be worth a few quid one day."

"Only if it's signed." Peter said, "And unfortunately, since Rick Wright passed away, that's no longer a possibility. Still, it's a really nice thing to have. But not quite as nice as my signed, clear vinyl pressing of 'Wish you were here', now that IS worth a few quid!"

"Hmph, showoff!" Becky replied with a wry smile.

"Listen, ladies I've um... made a decision." Peter said, changing the subject.