Fertility Facility: The Dose

Betty’s fingers curled into the edge of the table, crinkling the paper under her bare ass. A draft whooshed up her hospital gown, tightening her skin with goose bumps. She hated this part. The one where the doctor tells her there was nothing he could do. Fertility treatments could only offer so much.

The door opened, and Doctor Emily Wismer walked through, her white coat lining the designer suit beneath. A Hollywood smile greeted her. “No need to look so nervous. Your exam went well, your tests look good, and you have options. Let’s talk about them.”

Pamphlets and too much information was thrown at her. Most importantly, she had hope. 

The decision wasn’t so easy though. 

Her best option was the fertility farm, where they’d dope her up with medication and hand her over to be impregnated. She wouldn’t know by who because of the drugs, but was that a blessing or a curse?

Betty wouldn’t be alone, and Emily—as she insisted being called—spared her no details on what to expect from the experience. All of the men employed had excellent genetics and were curated as sperm donors. But essentially, she’d be paying to sleep through a gang bang.

Why did that slicken her thighs?

There were three stages. First, she took the doping dose that would make her incredibly fertile. Second, she would be transported to a room with up to twenty other women and be fucked by the men employed until she showed signs of waking up. Then, she’d wake up in a more private room with a handful of others—the prime specimens as Emily put it—until the drugs wore off or she wore out. Most women only had to do this once for it to work.

But Betty had only been with two men her whole life—her high school sweetheart and her husband. And Charlie was the one to suggest this place. Did he know?

Emily patted her knee and left her to talk it over with him on the phone. God, talk about the most awkward conversation of her life. But he knew. And he could get over it to give her a baby. It would be nice if he could be there with her through it.

He wasn’t allowed. Damn.

But when Doctor Emily came back, Betty agreed to the plan and was escorted to another room to take her dose. It was a small, half circle of a room with a bench and a wall of mirrors. A selection of aids accompanied the phallic applicator set in the middle of the bench. Emily showed her how to adjust it and explained that she had keep going until she passed out. Betty would be taken care of from there.

Nerves shook her as Betty nodded. The door closed, and she was alone with this decision.

Was someone watching her on the other side of the mirror?

Did it matter? With the way she’d be handed around today?

The gown gave her a little privacy as she sat on the bench, cheeks pressing against the applicator. A jolt of anticipation gathered more wetness in her core.

Betty shifted her hips and lifted herself to press the head of it through her folds. The slow descent stretched her, burning pleasure deep inside. As her ass hit the bench, her hips ground down against it, a sudden need blitzing her nerves.

With each move of her hips, she swore the applicator pushed further inside, filling her completely, and the shy feelings fled with it.

Nipples pebbled hard, scraping against the rough gown, spiraling pleasure, and thrusting her harder against the dildo that seemed to fuck her back.

“God, yes.”

The dose took over her, sending her in a frenzy. 

Her gown fell free as the shaft plunged deep. Betty lifted her feet to the bench beside her and bobbed on applicator, her hands automatically reaching to fondle her breasts and pluck at her nipples.

She was going to come.

Pleasure rippled free, rebounding in the cry torn from her throat.

But she didn’t pass out, so she dropped her feet and rode the thing harder, thighs shaking as hard as her core. Whatever drugs pumped into her kept the sharp pleasure from turning painful or overwhelming.

Before she knew it, she slammed herself against the bench, riding it to a new orgasm that sent black vibrating around the edges of her vision.

A small panic set in, but Betty didn’t stop. Pleasure built and rebounded, even though she barely moved over the applicator anymore. The small shifts were enough to keep it pumping the drug into her. That was why she couldn’t stop.

She didn’t want to stop.

It felt too good.

It felt way too good.

And that was her only thought as she dropped into darkness. 

Read part two: The Handler

Check out the completed story here!

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