Daily, Bred

The Futanari Sexual Health Clinic. It was a building June had passed multiple times while driving through town. From the outside, it looked like any other doctor's office. June had never felt the need to visit it.

But this day, there was a letter board near the entrance, the kind one might see outside a hardware store or sandwich shop. The sign advertised a new service available within.

Fertility treatments.

Despite possessing both sets of genitals, the futanari were unable to use them for their primary use of reproduction. All scientific and anecdotal data said that futa could neither impregnate nor be impregnated. However deprived they were in this category, they were believed to excel at that secondary use of these organs: casual sex. Most futa were granted large, sometimes enormous cocks that causes lesser women to faint and the rest to howl with delight... usually multiple times.

June had some things she had to do today, but she knew she wouldn't be able to focus until she heard this revolutionary new technique. Maybe she'd fallen for it like she'd paid five cents to see the Fiji Mermaid, or clicked on the article that swore she would not believe what number seven of a promised numbered list was.

Hopefully, all she'd spend here was time.

At the front desk, there was a woman with glasses delicately scraping one nail with an emory board. Her blonde hair was tied into a sloppy bun around a pencil. She wore a white lab coat with a black V-neck camisole. The feature of her outfit that made her believe she wasn't an inappropriately dressed secretary was the laminated ID card on a yellow lanyard around her neck, carefully swept to one side to avoid obscuring the deep cleft of her exposed cleavage.

This was not an inappropriately dressed secretary. This was a very inappropriately dressed doctor... that was sitting at the front desk.

The 'doctor' looked away from her nail for a moment and saw June standing a few paces out from the desk. She jumped to her feet with enough force to make her big breasts bounce once. "Welcome to the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic!" She crowed with sudden enthusiasm. "I'm Robin. What can I do for you today?"

June tensed a bit as the woman circled the desk to greet her. She held one strap of her purse close to her. "I saw the sign. You have fertility services for... futa?"

"It's a brand-new program, yes." Robin piped, tapping her trusty clipboard. She spoke with a British accent that was neither posh nor Cockney. "It's still in the experimental phase, and we can't guarantee results. But we've got a system in place where we think we can greatly increase the chance of conception!"

"That's really surprising." June nodded gently. "My whole life, I've heard people say 'a pregnant futa' the way they say 'chicken teeth' or 'Swiss war injuries' as far as things that just don't exist."

"We're hoping to change that." Robin said. "Are you a futa?"

June coughed and cleared her throat, pointing her toes together. "I am." She admitted.

"Excellent." Robin made a mark on her clipboard. "I hope we can help you today. Are you interested in increasing fertility in your sperm or your ova?"

June had fantasized about being the stud that sowed the oats wherever she walked, giving her weapon the power that it deserved, but had been denied her. She felt like she had a Desert Eagle that only fired BBs, or worse, one of those guns that was really just a cigarette lighter.

Then again, the responsibility of child rearing was an instinct not present in her personality. Every time she was in a public place and heard the whistle-like cry of some squealing unappeasable human pupa, she thanked whatever deity had left her unable to be stuck in such a regrettable predicament.

"Sperm, I guess." June answered.

Robin marked something down on her clipboard. "The majority of our futa volunteers have picked that."

"What a strange statistical anomaly."

"Our research has led us to believe there may be something very volatile in futa semen." Robin pressed the clipboard into her chest. "Not in the sense of danger, but in the sense that it might evaporate or change phase or form. Collecting it like a traditional sperm donation appears to be entirely ineffective to facilitate pregnancy. We believe that the futa semen absolutely must be as fresh as possible when delivered to give the best chances for conception."

June tensed, pulling her lips in for a moment. "Are you saying that... I will have to have unprotected sex with women and disclaim whatever parentage might result... for science?"

"Something like that, yes."

"My heart swells at the plight of these unfortunate women." June's eyes darted around nervously. "If you need me to creampie some mother-to-be for their benefit, then I'm your Huckleberry."

"Excellent." Robin looked to her clipboard. "I'll have to take down some of your information." She pulled a ballpoint pen from the breast pocket of the coat. "What's your name?"

"June Alexander."

"Blood type?"

"O."

"Height?"

"Five-six? Depends if I'm wearing my boots."

"Length?"

"Uh..." June looked disarmed. Normally, questions of height were followed by weight, a number about which she was much less self-conscious.

"You don't know?"

"I haven't measured in a few years." June shifted a bit. "I don't know if it fluctuates. I've certainly never heard any complaints."

"May I see it, please?" Robin pointed to June's crotch with her pen.

"Out here?" June's neck craned about the unoccupied, but by no means private, lobby.

"My assistant is on lunch break, and I need to stay at the desk in case someone else comes." Robin explained.

"Lunch break? It's nine-thirty in the morning."

"She wakes up very early. I still need to confirm the size of your penis to make an appropriate match for our database of clients."

And then Robin got down on one knee in front of June, looking up to her expectantly with her big blue eyes.

June felt a little nervous, but this was not a completely unfamiliar situation for her. She unsnapped her jeans, slowly dropped her fly, and scooped herself out of her colorful panties.

Robin's expression didn't change. She must see lots of futa penises in this line of work, even substantial ones that hang most of the way down to the knee. This didn't stop her from inspecting it from all angles with satisfied and thoughtful hums.

"I guess you want the erect measurement, right?"

"That is the more relevant piece of data for this." Robin noted. Before June could bring her hand to herself, Robin made a suggestion. "If you like, I have a fast and easy way to achieve erections. It was taught to me by one of my nurses, and it is highly effective."

"In the time it took to say that, I could have just..." She stopped herself, in case she was about to talk her way out of something fun. "Never mind. Go for it."

Delicately holding it by the underside, Robin brought her face in close and kissed the middle of June's hanging shaft. She gasped and moaned as Robin seemed to be unable to resist giving it a few more kisses as is swelled and stiffened.

If all this doctor wanted was someone to impregnate HER, June could certainly try.

Once June was at her biggest and hardest, Robin pulled a metal classroom ruler out from her coat and held it parallel to June's cock. Apparently unsatisfied with this device, she threw the ruler away and retrieved a spring-loaded vinyl measuring tape to finish the job. She looked very closely at the tiny printed numbers, tickling the hard thing with the soft breeze of her exhalations.

"Hurry up, please." June turned her head as far back as it would go without moving her feet, nervous that some passerby would interrupt them. "This is embarrassing."

"What's embarrassing about a twelve and three-quarter inch penis?" Robin almost spoke directly into June's cock, releasing the measuring tape with a snap.

Robin stood, grazing June's cock with her breasts as she stood. The soft, hot, doughy flesh of Robin's chest touched the hard and even hotter flesh of Robin's erection. It didn't appear to be intentional. June lowered her jeans to coax her unflexing member into the right pant leg, advancing most of the way down her thigh. Her cock was visible through the multiple wide slits in her pre-ripped jeans.

Writing down a few more details with a flourish, Robin removed the paper from her clipboard and walked back to the desk. She dropped the paper into a device on her desk. "Let me just feed this into the computer..."

"That sounds like a paper shredder."

"No, it's an old computer. I'm sorry that it's so loud." Robin looked at her monitor, which definitely wasn't just showing a battalion of flying toasters. She grabbed something from a series of hooks on her desk. "Follow me."

June trailed a step or two behind Robin as they walked down a hall with doors on either side. "Here we go, room number Six." She handed June the key, a regular door key on a rounded diamond key chain with a number, the kind an old hotel might have.

Robin swung the door open. Inside was a simple room like any doctor's office. But instead of the plastic-lined bed with the butcher paper roll at one end... there was a simple wooden bed with a mattress covered in hospital-blue sheets and two pillows, one standard and one... heart-shaped.

"We'll bring in your match in due time." Robin said. "If you get bored, there's some reading material in the drawer, and the remote is over there." She closed the door without slamming it, leaving June alone in the room.

Despite the bed being very different than all the examination tables she had seen in doctor's office... the experience of sitting in a silent room in a doctor's office was the same one she knew. Was she supposed to get undressed for the procedure? Despite her discomfort at being stuffed down her pant leg, she decided not to risk it.

June looked at the 'reading material' that the good doctor had indicated. Where medical files or supplies might have normally been stored, instead they were filled with hard-copy pornography. She closed the drawer as if it contained an angry and ambulatory lobster.

She found the remote control and turned on the ceiling-mounted television. The TV immediately burst into moans as it loaded high-definition video pornography. She quickly located the Channel Up button, only to find still more pornography. In what must have been some version of a reverse V-chip, the television had been programmed to dispense only pornography and romantic music filled with pealing saxophones and alluring plucked guitar strings.

This really was an office designed to inspire lust and promote reproduction. There were even scented candles and matches set next to the tongue depressors. She had almost expected to walk in here and see the room dolled up like the honeymoon suite at a sleazy hotel, where the bed itself might be heart-shaped.

Several minutes passed without any word from the doctor or any recipient for her... services. June washed her hands in the connected lavatory and tucked her softening bits back into her panties, where they were much more comfortable than extended down the leg of her jeans. She brought herself down onto the covers, resisting the urge to nap. She had stayed up too late last night, and this bed was plenty comfortable enough for her. She'd slept in sillier places...

The door blew open. June sat up, expecting the doctor to come back in.

It was someone June hadn't seen before, staggering through the door as though someone has pushed them through it. She was a woman of above average height and tea-colored skin. She had blonde curls standing out voluminously from her head that turned dark at the roots, though seemingly not from being dyed. Her hair was flattened on top by a plaid beret that she immediately took off and held in both hands in front of her. The embroidered pattern on her blue knitted turtleneck was gently stretched by her large breasts. Her hips flared from within her thigh-length black skirt. Her green eyes looked wide as an owl's behind her large thin-rimmed glasses.

"Hello." The woman squeaked, taking in the stranger sitting on the bed. She had her dark hair undercut on one side and swept over to the right. She wore eye shadow and mascara, but not so much as to be showy. A small choker was around her neck, and the ear on the undercut side was filled with rings and other piercings. She looked thin, even under her baggy and sun-bleached black zip-up hooded sweatshirt. The holes in the cuffs where she had poked her thumbs through were not manufactured that way, and were a new feature that developed after some wear. The wear on her pre-ripped jeans were contrived that way, of course. Her sneakers were colorful, if a little worn out, and the cuffs of her jeans were frayed from always touching the ground. It was almost as though there was a feature of her that didn't fit in the fashionably tight jeans, forcing her to go up a size.

June quietly cleared her throat at the sight of her, feeling a little under-dressed. If this was the woman that the doctor wanted her to impregnate... June would give it her all. She stood and held out her hand to the woman. "Hello, I'm June."

"I'm Miriam." The blonde woman identified herself and accepted the handshake.

"I..." June stalled a bit as she sat back down. "guess we got matched."

"I guess." Miriam sat on the other end of the bed. "The woman at the desk took one look at me and sort of pushed me in here. She didn't even ask for my name."

"Well, I've taken two looks at you, and I think she's done an excellent job."

Miriam giggled without opening her mouth and blushed a bit. "You're very nice."

"I'm not, really." June shrugged. "You'll see.

A few seconds of silence. Miriam softly bit her lower lip. June cleared her throat.

"So what do you do?" June asked. "Are you a... librarian or a secretary or something?"

Miraim looked at her flatly. "Do you assume that's my job because of my outfit and glasses?"

Some would be embarrassed at being so presumptuous. June was undeterred. "A bit, yeah."

Miriam sighed. "I work as a secretary AT a library, yes." June pumped her fist. "What about you?"

"I work at a record and collectibles shop." June said. "You ever been to Tunes and Tat?"

"No."

"You might not want to go." June said.

"You're saying I SHOULDN'T go?"

"If the normal customers saw someone who looked like you, they'd all start recommending anime at you. This is strictly a safety suggestion."

Miriam nodded and accepted the advice.

Several seconds of silence. June shifted a bit, trying not to eye her new partner so obviously. Miriam took a breath of slightly chilly recycled air.

"Do they really just expect us to... just..." Miriam looked mortified to even consider it.

"I think that's the idea. There are some scented candles and matches over here." June reached over to grab one, sitting next to the container of tongue depressors, as if these objects were gathered together for their common cylindrical shape. "I saw them earlier."

June held it out to Miriam, who sniffed it. She pulled back and coughed, bringing one hand to her nose. Confused, June sniffed it herself.

"That smells nice. What's your problem?"

"I just got too close. I'm sensitive to perfumes like that."

"I guess I won't light it, then." June rolled it in her hand to read the label. Whatever BS name the company gave it didn't tell her what it was. She rolled it further for a list of ingredients, the way someone flips a box of cereal over to find the maze on the back. Evidently, no part of this candle would tell her what the smells were except her nose, so she went in for another sniff. "Smells like vanilla, cinnamon... orange, maybe... and some sort of flower..."

"Those are all... aphrodisiacs." Miriam noted.

"Just the smell? Or do you have to eat them?"

"I assume the smell, because they wouldn't have put that candle here if the smell wasn't the part that was aphrodisiac."

"Well, thank goodness it doesn't smell like oysters." She set it down.

"If everything here is to make things romantic, that's probably why they had the dimmer built into the light switch."

"The what?"

Miriam stood from the bed and moved over to the light switch. She always seemed to walk with legs tightly pulled together, legs cutting a short stride. Miriam indicated a tiny slider next to the standard light switch. Lowering it with one fingernail dimmed all the lights in the room.

"Whoa." June craned her head about. A little sunlight still spilled in from around the edges of the curtains. She wished she had this on the light switches in her apartment.

Miriam brought the lights back up to full. "This room is obviously meant to inspire romantic feelings and make people comfortable. I'm surprised they cheaped out a bit on the bed."

June looked down to the bed curiously. It looked better than her own bed. "What do you mean?"

"This is an IKEA bed. NIEDEN, I think it's called. I used to have one. It's one of their cheapest bed frames."

"Well, did you see how many rooms were down that hall? There's probably a bed in each one." June rolled her hand. "I'd rather spend it on the mattress than the frame."

"That would be wise."

A few more seconds of awkward silence. If this was their first date, June would be sweating and asking her about the food. She had to say something.

"So... you like IKEA?"

"Essentially all my furniture is from IKEA. I like right angles and a clean, consistent aesthetic."

"I'll bet you're one of those super-neat types who has one of those handheld vacuum cleaners."

"No." Miriam shook her head softly.

"Really?"

"I just use the attachments on my vacuum. And a washable microfiber duster." Miriam answered. June still felt like her assumption was on the money. "Why? Are you saying you're not clean?"

June cleared her throat. "As a librarian, you can appreciate the difference between 'neat' and 'clean,' right? Clean is not dirty; neat is clean and organized. My older brother used to leave empty bowls of cereal in his room to dry out and get nasty. I don't do that. Not with food or laundry... I don't even like leaving soda cans out. So I'm clean, but... I've got my junk all over the place. So I can't honestly call myself neat."

"I understand." Miriam nodded. "It's not what I like, but that's fine."

"It's not as though I have some stylish aesthetic to maintain. All my furniture came from Goodwill." June said. "I wanted to find one of those old ugly industrial spools people used to use as coffee tables."

"You WANT furniture that's ugly?"

"You know what I mean. I want something interesting. But really thinking about it, I don't know how I'd get it up the stairs to my apartment."

"I don't think I'd want one of those."

"I'll bet you're the kind of person who won't even wear mismatched socks."

"Mismatched?" Miriam's eyebrows bobbed a bit. "I buy about twenty-five pairs of identical socks, all at the same time, and once a few start to wear out, I replace them."

"That seems a little obsessive."

"I just can't be bothered to sort the socks out of the laundry."

"Now THAT I understand. That's why mine never match." June pulled up the cuff of her jeans to see what colorful sock was on that foot. "So there we go. There's something we have in common."

"Yes, but not for the same reason." Miriam noted. "Sometimes I think I agree with someone on some issue until I find out why they think that, and it's completely different."

"You can't just shoot that down. We got matched, didn't we?" June said, trying not to sound desperate. She definitely didn't want to watch that short skirt walk out of here.

"But we don't know the criteria that they're using to match us. How much do we really have in common?" Miriam asked. "Do you... read many books?"