April's Dilemma Ch. 01

"So there's nothing you can do?" April asked, dejected. The doctor looked at her sympathetically and said nothing for a long moment.

"I'm sorry, April," the doctor said, shaking her head slowly. "But it's such a rare condition that there's very little research on it. We know what it is and what it does, but that's pretty much the limit of our knowledge. I can try prescribing some other skin creams, but..." her voice trailed off, leaving April little doubt as to the likelihood of success.

For months April had been getting horrible blemishes on her face. They had come without warning, appearing on her face one morning. Despite everything April and Dr. Cohen had tried, they had gotten worse. April could hardly bear to look at herself in the mirror anymore. And now she was being told there was nothing that could be done! She felt close to tears.

The doctor saw that April was near to crying and she wanted to offer something, anything to give her patient some hope.

"April," Dr. Cohen began and then hesitated. She had already decided against giving this piece of information to April. But the pitiful look in her patient's eyes was affecting her medical judgment. She wanted to offer something besides condolences.

"April," she began again. "There is one thing that..." Dr. Cohen faltered. This was a mistake. But April looked up with a look so full of expectation that the doctor continued in spite of her judgment. "One thing," she continued, "that you could try. I want to emphasize that there are no conclusive studies that support this. But there is anecdotal evidence that..." Again the doctor had to stop.

She looked at April. April was in her mid-twenties, cute in a shy, reserved kind of way. Dr. Cohen didn't even know if April was sexually active. If she wasn't, this information could be worse than useless. But the look on April's face made it impossible for the doctor to stop now. It wasn't hope or desperation, but might have been some mix of the two.

"April, there are some isolated cases where women have claimed that... that they've found something to clear up the blemishes." How the hell was she going to say this to this sweet young girl?

"Wh.. what is it?"

"Semen," Dr. Cohen said after an awkward pause. "Male semen," she added needlessly. Like there was some other kind! She saw April's eyes get wide and wondered if this hadn't been a dreadful mistake.

"What?" April's voice was barely a whisper, her eyebrows registering disbelief.

"Yes, well," Dr. Cohen told her, trying to regain her own sense of professionalism. "There have been cases--not proven, mind you--where women ingesting semen have seen dramatic results, even complete suppression of symptoms."

"Suppression of symptoms?" April asked dubiously.

"Yes," Dr. Cohen said. "In those cases, the underlying cause, which is viral, is not eliminated. But the symptoms--the blemishes--are, well, gone. Or at least drastically reduced." The doctor shrugged. There wasn't much more she could tell April than that.

"But how... uh, where..." April asked, confused.

"I can't write you a prescription for that," the doctor said wryly. "You're on your own. What I will tell you is that the women who have, uh, used this particular treatment have said that they needed to, um... have it at least three times a week and in some cases, daily. The quantity that you would get would vary from man to man and with the frequency of the, uh, donations that you got from them."

April sat there, once again looking quite hopeless. The doctor looked at her thoughtfully.

"Look, there's probably not enough practical evidence for me to have even brought it up," she told her patient. "But maybe you have a girlfriend or someone who could, you know, help you. I'm not saying you should try it, I'm simply telling you that I don't have anything better to offer you. I can still prescribe some other ointments..."

April sat there, staring at Dr. Cohen, not sure what to say. Should she tell the doctor that she had been intimate with only three men in her life? And that she had "ingested" very little semen in any event. The fact that she had no boyfriend, or even any prospects, made the situation hopeless all over again. What could she do? The blemishes were horrible and she wanted them gone at any cost. But... but this was a different problem. Where would she even start? Three times a week to daily? Oh--My--God!!

* * * * *

April left the doctor's office in somewhat of a daze. The doctor could offer no medicine to rid April of the hated blemishes. Worse, there was a chance that something could help her. But it was a cure that dangled beyond her reach. Sure, if she had a boyfriend, she would probably try it. What was there to lose? But since she didn't have one, and wasn't likely to get one with her face looking like this, the faint hope the doctor had tried to offer was really no hope at all.

When April got home, she decided to search the internet for more information on her affliction. Not that Dr. Cohen wouldn't have been thorough, but April just had to hope that there was something out there her physician didn't know about. Something. Anything.

Most of what April found was on medical sites and only served to confirm what her doctor had told her. She was about to give up when she came across a personal website that had been started by a woman suffering the same affliction. April clicked on the site and anxiously read the woman's account of her own struggle with the blemishes. Most of it was spookily similar to April's own experiences. The pictures posted were also horribly familiar.

April read everything posted, feeling the bond of shared suffering between herself and this anonymous woman. Near the bottom was an entry dated months later than any of the other postings. It was of a decidedly more positive tone. It was absent any specifics, but for some reason gave April a sense of hope. It included an appeal for any woman suffering from this disease to contact the site's owner for important information. An email address was given.

April, ordinarily leery of making contact with strangers, even via email, didn't hesitate. She quickly typed a brief email, stating that she, too, had this awful condition and had been told by her doctor there was little or no hope of a cure. Had this woman found one? April asked the woman to please pass on any helpful information and signed her name.

She sent the email then sat waiting, starting expectantly at the screen for several minutes. Realizing that it could be hours, days or even weeks before she got a reply, April got up and went about the rest of her day.

That night she had a reply. April quickly clicked on it and read through it once, then again. It was rather to the point.

"Dear April, I don't know you or what kind of person you are, so I apologize in advance if any of this offends you. There is only one thing that has ever worked for me in getting rid of the blemishes. It has worked for well over three years now with almost no relapses. It is sperm. I have to swallow at least four or five good sized loads a week to maintain a clear complexion, sometimes more, if I see any signs of an impending breakout.

"There are a lot of other details that I've figured out over the last few years. If you're interested, please write back. I'd be happy to try to help you. Of course, I will understand if this option is simply not for you. I once felt that way myself.

"Hope I can help you, Cathy."

April read the message a third time before getting up and walking away from the computer. She went to the mirror and looked at herself. The blemishes were all over her face. They were purple and hideous. She felt like a leper. But was the cure worse than the disease?

April had swallowed before. She didn't think that in itself was such a big deal, although she knew a couple of her friends who felt differently on the subject. No, April's problem was that she was totally at a loss for how to find the men this would require. She was shy and uncomfortable approaching men she didn't know for any reason, forget sexual ones. And the thought of explaining her predicament to a man she did know was completely out of the question. The embarrassment would kill her.

But another long look in the mirror convinced her she had to do something or she would never be able to leave her house again. She went back to the PC and typed her reply.

"Dear Cathy, Thank you for writing back. Anything more you can tell me I would greatly appreciate. I don't know if I can use any of the information, but at least I will know about it. April."

The next day, April had another email from Cathy. It started out nicely enough, with lots of encouragement and assurances that it was well worth the price to be rid of the blemishes. But as April read on, the note began going into some rather explicit detail.

Apparently, Cathy had experimented extensively with methods of getting her "required dosage," as she put it. One of Cathy's first observations was that one man wouldn't supply enough sperm to totally clear up April's complexion. Cathy had found that repeatedly tapping the same source greatly diminished the quantity and quality of the offering.

Cathy also cautioned against trying to store sperm. She had apparently tried refrigeration, freezing, tupperware, etc. But she had had little or no success with any storage processes. Even having a "supplier" leave some in a bathroom in a cup for her to drink several minutes later was less effective than getting it straight from the source. Cathy didn't know why, but thought April should be made aware of these things, since they had taken her a couple years to discover.

April's body shivered at the thought that a woman would have reason to try storing sperm in her fridge or get a man to leave some in a glass for her. Reminding herself that she suffered the same affliction as Cathy sent a still-stronger chill through her.

Would this really work? How could April find out? There was Nicholas. She might be able to call him. April and Nicholas had broken up over a year ago, but they occasionally traded emails. April knew he had a new girlfriend and they were getting pretty serious, but who else could she turn to? She knew she didn't have it in her to go to a bar, pick a guy up and give him head, just like that.

Besides, what if it didn't work? Better that she find out before she made a complete fool of herself. And Nicholas was the only man she could think of for this test.

April had no idea what she would actually say to Nicholas. The first step would be to get him to come over. She quickly typed an email to him and sent it. Again, she sat staring at the screen as if she expected an immediate response.

After a while, she typed a reply to Cathy, thanking her for her encouragement and all the information.

"But I don't know if it'll do me any good," April wrote. "I don't even have a boyfriend."

When she returned home that evening, she had replies from both Nicholas and Cathy. She read Cathy's first. She was too afraid Nicholas would be unwilling to see her and she still had no idea what she would say if he did.

Cathy's email was brief.

"I know if you're anything like me, this sounds mortifying. But it really isn't that bad. And even if it was, it's still better than a face full of horrible purple blemishes.

"Don't worry if you don't have a boyfriend. It's probably better that you don't. One man isn't going to give you enough and I doubt you'd find a man understanding enough to be your boyfriend under those circumstances. I know my husband (now ex-) wasn't understanding at all, even though he knew how wretched those blemishes made me feel.

"If there's anything else I can help you with, please let me know. Good luck and God bless, Cathy."

Taking a deep breath, April opened Nicholas's email. To her immense relief, he readily agreed to stop by and see her. When did she have in mind?

Without hesitation, April replied that she needed to see him at his earliest convenience. Even tonight if that was possible. She clicked the "Send" button before she could reconsider. Then she hopped up and hurried to the mirror.

Her face was as bad as it had ever been. What if Nicholas took one look at her and ran away screaming? How was she ever going to convince him that he could help her in such a bizarre manner? Especially looking like this?

She forced herself to calm down. After all, it was Nicholas, whom she knew and trusted. Whether or not he'd actually agree to help her, he certainly wouldn't be hurtful.

* * * * *

It turned out that Nicholas couldn't meet her that night, but was free the next. April quickly responded and got him to agree to meet at her place around seven. No, she couldn't say why, but it was very important. After trading a few more emails with him, in which she insisted she could tell him no more until tomorrow, she said goodnight. Nicholas sent back a reply, but April left it in her in box unread.

April still had no idea what she would tell him or how she would broach the subject of what she physically needed from him. Would he go for it? He was, after all, in a serious relationship with another woman. Without a doubt, this would constitute cheating on her. April had no desire to ruin Nicholas's relationship. If it wasn't the only way, she wouldn't even have considered it.

At 6:45 the next night, April was staring anxiously at her face in the mirror. She had done her best to cover the blemishes with makeup, but they just refused to be hidden. Well, it was too late to worry about it now. Nicholas would be here soon.

Maybe him seeing the blemishes wouldn't hurt. Surely, he'd be very sympathetic and want to help in any way he could. And once he said he was willing to help her, would he be back out once he knew what that help would entail?

Nicholas was such an earnest guy. It wasn't right for April to make him decide between helping her and being true to his girlfriend. But, April thought as she looked in the mirror again, this was her life. If there was a way to get rid of the terrible, ugly splotches on her face, she had to do it.

There was a knock at the door and April jumped slightly. She reached for the doorknob, resolving to do whatever she had to do to convince Nicholas. He simply had to help her or she was sunk. She opened the door, bracing herself for his reaction.

"Hi," she smiled and waved him in.

"Hi," Nicholas answered, stepping inside. "How've you been?" In the dim light near the door he hadn't noticed her face. But as she stepped back into the light, he saw it and stopped in his tracks.

"April," he said, concern obvious in his voice. "What...?" He didn't know how to ask without seeming rude. But his reaction was hardly unexpected. April had been living with this for several months and had watched everyone she knew do pretty much the same thing.

"It's okay," April reassured him. "It's not really as bad as it looks." He raised an eyebrow, not sure if he should believe her. "Really," she said. "It's just blemishes. Not some deadly disease or anything. And nothing that's catching," she quickly added.

April waved Nicholas into the living room and they sat down, looking at each other for a few moments without saying anything. April was trying to summon the courage to tell Nicholas why she needed his help and he seemed to be trying to find a way to politely ask what had happened to her.

When they finally broke the silence, both of them started talking at once. They laughed and Nicholas waved for her to go first. April took a deep breath and began the explanation she had composed in her head and rehearsed a dozen times.

"I started getting these things on my face," April said without looking at Nicholas, "maybe six or eight months ago. They weren't that bad at the start, but I went to the doctor because they weren't going away." She took another deep breath. "Anyway, the dermatologist tried a few things for me before sending me to a specialist. I just saw the specialist last week and she told me that there's not much they can do for me."

Nicholas started to interrupt with questions, but she waved him off, needing to get it all out there first.

"Well, there's no medicine that they can give me anyway," April said, looking up at Nicholas briefly. "But there's a possibility that... well, that there is something that would clear them up, but..." April's voice trailed off for a moment. "But she couldn't say for sure if it would actually work." Nicholas was beside himself with questions, but April still waved him back.

"Please," she said. "Let me say it all first, before you start asking me a lot of questions and getting me off-track." Nicholas settled back, but she could see him straining to hold back.

"Anyway, this possible treatment isn't something she could prescribe. I'd have to acquire it on my own and that's where you come in." As she said it aloud for the first time, April realized that it sounded like she needed Nicholas to help her buy illegal drugs. She actually smiled a little at the thought. He would probably be as lost as herself in such matters.

"So...?" Nicholas prompted, unable to stop himself.

"So what I need, you could, uh, provide," April said without looking at him.

"April," Nicholas began, and the tone of his voice made it obvious that he was afraid of what she might ask him to do. "I don't know if I'm the right person to, uh... well, I mean, I just don't, um..."

"It's nothing illegal," April said. "But it's not, um, well, something I can just ask for either."

Nicholas sat looking at her, his expression unreadable. He surely had questions he could barely wait to ask, but wasn't sure if she was finished. They sat awkwardly in silence for a moment before April finally managed to say it.

"Semen," she said, barely audible.

"What?" She didn't know if he hadn't heard or had, but wasn't sure he heard it correctly.

"Semen," she repeated, louder this time.

"Semen?" Nicholas echoed. His eyes opened wide and he blinked a few times as he looked at her in disbelief. "You mean you want me to.... on your face?"

April realized what he was saying and gave a start. "No, no," she said quickly. "Nothing like that. I have to swallow it," she added after a slight pause. Even as she said it, April was aware that it wasn't all that much of a difference. A little smile crept onto her face, followed by a nervous laugh. Nicholas, still wide-eyed, laughed a little too.

"You have to swallow it?" he asked, incredulous. "That's the only cure for... for whatever it is you have?" April nodded, still smiling nervously. She hoped and prayed he would understand. What would she do if he just left?

Part of her brain said he might do just that. But a more cynical side of her wasn't so sure. Nicholas was a man being offered a blow job. Men love blow jobs and he could rationalize any guilt as simply helping a friend.

"So you want me to, like... uh... in a cup for you or something?" he asked, nodding toward the bathroom. April realized that she hadn't been clear enough on the subject.

"Uh, no," she said, blushing a little. "I, uh..." She wasn't able to finish. Again they sat looking at each other for a long, awkward moment.

"This is the only thing left for me to try," April said at last. "And it's not like there isn't something in it for you, too," she added, her smile getting slightly wider, but her eyes still unable to meet his.

"So you're going to, uh..." Nicholas began. April looked up, very sympathetic to the mixed feelings he was experiencing. She nodded, managing to make eye contact with him briefly. Their eyes locked for a second, then they both looked away. "Tonight?" Nicholas asked, and April was certain she heard something in his voice that wasn't there a moment ago: excitement.