Fertility Clinic Pt. 09: TLC - Patient Care

In a treatment room with Cindy one of my patients, I exclaimed, "Every step, each demand and sacrifice along the way here at the clinic makes the next even greater one that much easier to accept."

Clad only in a flimsy hospital gown, lying on her back on the massage table in front of me at the Western Avenue Fertility Clinic was blond, bubble haircut, Cindy. "I'm glad," I told her, "you cut your hair short. It's easier to get in and out of here with short hair. Less to dry, after the required shower coming and going."

Chuckling Cindy softly reported, "My partner never expected it. She believes it looks too butch."

"Butch?" I chuckled, "By that do you mean mannish? It's hard to think of cute little Cindy as mannish in the least."

When Cindy raised her head to thank me for my advice on getting her hair cut shorter. "I can't say," I, tickling the soles of petite Cindy's feet, declined the accolade, "I deserve the credit. Actually, the guys who drop by the Western Avenue Fertility Clinic to donate their sperm gave me the idea. Men can come in useful - at times."

We giggled together at my double entendre.

Looking at sweet little Cindy lying on the table, I suspected little Cindy had become too attached to me. Though she was in a lesbian relationship - the current correct or polite term was sperm-less pair, I had suggested a male nursing assistant.

A look of horror came to her face. "A man touching me? What if he gets aroused and tries to seduce or even rape me?"

"Contact with a Nursing Assistant, male or female, assigned to the women's ward to assist in an impregnation procedure is going to be by definition intimate. However, to prevent corruption of the semen selected, Dr Velour locks down the males' accoutrements in a chastity belt," I assured her, "A male assistant in the women's ward is functionally gelded. With his hoscus in a cock blocker, a male assistant is unable to do more than a female one.".

When I brought the question of Cindy's attachment to me to the Fertility Institute's director Dr Velour, she met me early one morning in the employee's communal shower where she usually conferred with staff. Dr Velour leaning her head back, hands behind her head, thrusting her chest out dangling her breasts in front of me as she luxuriated in the exploding beads of warm water striking her body. "Informal meetings like this," Dr velour commented, "inspire honesty, self-confidence and trust. Don't you think?"

"Brevity, too, perhaps," I quipped, "So, I'll get to the point." I took a deep breath. "How am I ever to impregnate Cindy?" I asked. "Even if Cindy is impregnated, how will she be delivered? She doesn't like to be seen naked."

"Do you have any suggestions?" Dr Velour asked.

"Transfer Cindy to a male nursing assistant," I proposed, "That night ratchet up Cindy's experience and make the next step, allowing a complete physical examination that much easier."

"Cindy and her partner pay well," Dr Velour reminded me, "They aren't pushing me for immediate results. Cindy enjoys talking to you. What's the objection to that? I admit dealing with Cindy is different than impregnating a surrogate who puts her body up for hire. The surrogate wants to be efficiently knocked up to maximize the profit. Cindy pays. That's business. What's the difference?"

In the treatment room in the women's ward, Cindy with the lilt of innocence in her voice asked. "How does dealing with men differ?"

"Differences?" I thought as I stared into Cindy's bright blue eyes while I untied the strings on the hospital gown, "For sperm donors, coming here to donate sperm is a lark, a game, an adventure..."

"The donors come to cum," Cindy quipped.

I agreed. "The men enjoy their role in the production process, but have little interest what emerges as the final product."

"Interesting way of putting it," quipped Cindy with a pained half - smile.

"To men, I suppose their role in the serious decision to produce a child is just a big joke," Cindy affirmed proudly, "I'm glad I'm not with a man." Cindy gasped.

"Yes, men - the donors - do enjoy spending time here, like kids out to play," I explained as I lowered her gown to leave it covering her nipples, exposing her pert cup caked shaped breasts above her areola. I began working the shoulder muscles with a scented witch - hazel, "It goes on cool to the touch but warms as I work it in."

I paused to think for a second before I continued to answer Cindy's question, "Some sperm donors dropping by for a shower and a massage like the way this ointment relaxes tense muscles. Some donors pop in twice daily just to shower to see if they can squeeze in a massage."

"It's hard to think of guys trying that hard to be so clean," Cindy relaxing closed her eyes and spoke in soft tones. Unlike some of the experienced surrogates who might enjoy when I whipped the gown off while I had them on the scales to weigh them, Cindy who tended to be extremely shy had to be gradually unveiled.

Cindy's predilection for prim and proper deportment meant she scheduled her visits to the Fertility Clinic for times she'd find the female visitor's showers unoccupied, usually 5:30 - 6:30 PM.

"Despite the fiction that both partners in a heterosexual marriage are equal," I told Dr Velour in one of our tete - a - tete consultations in the employee's shower, "the female visitor's showers are free at 5:15 - 6 :45 PM because most women have to be at home to prepare dinner." As I soaped up Dr Velour's back, I complained, "I like to be home at that time, too, rather than risk what my husband Jerry might burn in the barbeque out in the yard."

"Hmm—Cindy seems to have a problem with functional - communal nudity," Dr Velour noted. "Wouldn't you agree Nurse Warbler?"

"But how do you expect someone who won't undress to shower with other girls," I protested, "to take a shot of man juice up her love port."

"Cindy is not as uninhibited as one of our surrogates who don't mind a little stimulation but really want to be knocked - up and quickly out the door. Certainly, Cindy is different," Dr Velour with a sympathetic tone, rendered an understatement that brought a smile to my lips.

"Cindy," I observed, "isn't willing to get naked much less let herself go. We'll never get her pregnant."

"Let me remind you Nurse Warbler, however, virtuous we may want to be," Dr Velour shot me a serious look, "Cindy and her partner pay and I pay overtime, like I'm doing right now." Her chest heaving as she took a deep breath, Dr Velour requested in a soft tone as she bent over to present her butt, "Be a luv, Amy, finish soaping me up."

Taking a soapy washcloth, I gritted my teeth as I lathered Dr Velour's crack. My husband Jerry had just talked me into buying the house we lived in from our landlady. The price was right because we agreed to allow our former landlady to stay on in her rooms. Even with rent from the former owner, still, I needed money to keep the house up and pay a share of the mortgage. So, pretending I was working toward impregnating Cindy, what the doctor ordered, would continue.

Hearing no protest from me, Dr Velour, turned to face me. With a reassuring hand on my bare shoulder, Dr Velour explained, "So, continue to make Cindy feel comfortable. Her partner is pleased Cindy can relax with you. Cindy and her partner are convinced a valid course of treatment is being pursued. So, continue with her eh - treatment."

In the treatment room, Cindy was now relaxed enough to drop the gown below that light bulb shaped navel and reveal her nipples and the underside of her breasts.

Bending over the treatment table to speak directly to Cindy, I advised, "Many sperm donors enjoy their daily showers here." I explained that I had to reach for a more gentle, aloe based lotion to massage the breasts. "Female breasts are more sensitive to the touch and have to be handled tenderly to protect the glands that produce milk and the nipples where the baby we propose to make will suckle."

I received that sick half - smile, suggestive of hesitancy. Would she go through with the insemination today or any time soon?

Returning to our discussion, I advised her, "Many donors shower twice a day here: early in the morning before work; then return to shower on the way home."

"Unexpectedly fastidious," Cindy bit her lip.

''Oh, to shower naked." I trilled a cute rondelet I often recited during sessions, "as God created // The Clinic's rights are exclusive // Except when here // the Donor's dangler // is reclusive. // Upon reporting in // pared to bare skin // cavorting can begin."

With a smile, as began to massage the soft tissue of Cindy's small but pert breasts. I took a deep breath. My pulse quickened. Perspiration moistened my armpits and cleavage as I gazed upon the puffy white pair sitting like two dishes of vanilla ice cream topped by cherries.

Palms were sweating when I resumed the rondel, "For here is decreed // the cock is freed // ball are tapped // for the flow of sap.

Her chest heaved as I gently pulled at Cindy's nipples. We were breathing in sync. I returned to my verse "I do aver // donors part relaxed, // with cock re-lashed and blocker re-attached..."

"Leaving the world so much safer," Cindy completed the rime.

I lowered the gown to her knees. Staring at her exposed external genitalia, I complimented myself on the job I had down depilating Cindy's pubis.

I sighed. Like everything in dealing with Cindy's modesty and Dr Velour's requirements that visitors, sperm donors and surrogates wear no significant hair below the neck.

In one of my asides with Dr Velour in the employees' shower, I informed Dr Velour, "Like most women, Cindy removes the hair from her arm pits and legs, but Cindy clings to the hospital gown when I try to pull it below her navel. How am I going to remove her pubic hair?"

At Dr Velour's suggestion, I gotten rid of Cindy's pubic hair by applying the depilatory cream around her pubis as she presented her rear end while she rested on hands and knees. "In her mind," Dr Velour accurately predicted, "faced away from you, Cindy won't feel exposed..."

In the treatment room, Cindy knotted her faint eyebrows in surprise. "Usually, you whip the gown off and order me crouch on hands and knees to present my heinie."

I sighed. "You've a partner but," I observed, "It seems somehow you have never before been naked in the presence of another person."

Holding her hand out to touch my arm, Cindy asked, "You're with a guy, but I take it - don't be offended - it's just a feeling - you like girls too. What's it like to be with a guy, to have his juice inside you?"

"It's a risk," I held her hand. "Guys aren't always as clean or careful as we might like—You know that."

"Then, why a man?' Cindy asked.

"It's hard to explain," I replied, "the brain winks out; you're in instinct driven override. My husband Jerry and I strung together a ditty one night: `Skin aflush // Lips touch // Hands clutch // Bodies crush.'"

"It's that simple?" Cindy laughed.

"To override good sense, your senses must be overloaded," I explained, "The trill goes on, 'Scent seducing, // Rapid respiring,// Furies flaring // Blood bubbling // Dairies dazzling."

"Dairies dazzling?" Cindy chuckled. "Or dangling? I guess I wouldn't do well with a man. I don't have that much up top to appeal to a guy."

"Mother nature provides," I chuckled, "At each stage, the next one comes that much quicker, "When stimulated, female breasts enlarge. They fill with blood during arousal and intercourse," I teased her nipples as I recited the verse, "There's a certain structural bias imparted by my husband the engineer, `Scent alluring,// Emotions engaging,// Heartbeat surging,// Piston projecting// Port awakening.'"

"Engineering mixed into biology?" Cindy questioned.

"Anatomy, Jerry tells me, is the model of man-made structures," I informed Cindy.

"But what of women - made physical edifice?" Cindy chided me.

"One never knows what will happen when two heads," I chuckled, "come together in," I continued the poem, "A silent hush// Furies rush// A storm burst// A final thrust // comes the gush."

"And that's it?" Cindy asked.

"Usually, the guy cums and the gal has to finish herself off," I reflected, "These are my lines: `my body inflamed // tho' his sap be drained // his fires slake // I make mine quake!"

"And still you prefer men?" Cindy prodded me.

"It's the thrill of letting go, experiencing the risk, dirt, disease, pregnancy and not caring," I exclaimed.

"Birth Control?" Cindy asked.

I shook my head. "Even the pill isn't fail - safe and in the throes of ecstasy, intoxication or just plain exhilaration, you let go; your body takes over; primal instinct reigns; you really don't care."

"Fucking is so much fun," Cindy suggested, "you don't give a flying fuck.

I tied that into the intended treatment. "Dr Velour's treatment protocol is based on that very premise that impregnation is more likely if the woman allows her body to take over just like in natural intercourse."

"How do I do that?" Cindy asked.

Taking a breath for fortitude, I rendered instructions, "First, you must relax." I moved closer to speak directly to Cindy, "I'm not going to bite. Could you spread your legs just a little further apart?"

The pale white skin of Cindy's face burnished a deep scarlet when I smiled at her pitiable effort to spread her legs. Running my hands up her inner thighs, I splayed her legs. "Jerry my engineer husband says the legs are like the legs of a protractor. It's unwise to pull them more than 120 degrees apart."

Cindy's sweet blue eyes followed my hands as they felt along her lower smooth abdomen brushing her labia reaching toward her inner thighs. She thrust her genitalia upward when I deliberately bypassed and teased her slit. "No matter, we'll try something different today." I smiled. I gently massaged the crease between Cindy's labia and worked my way toward her clit.

Hands behind her head, nipples erect, Cindy stretched out on the table. Was she a couple of inches taller? Had she gained a cup size? I wondered.

As I removed my hand Cindy pled, "Oh, please God, don't dare stop!"

Taking Cindy's hands, I placed Cindy's right hand on her clit and her left inside her vagina searching for the G spot. "Work yourself hard," I ordered, "you deserve it."

Excusing myself from the room with the claim that I had to retrieve an instrument, I went to fetch Dr Velour. I found Dr Velour in the gym - nude working out. Surprise filled Dr Velour's face when I came into her view. "Nurse Warbler, you need to get out of those sweat drenched clothes. A shower to cool off is what the doctor ordered."

"I've got Cindy working her way to an orgasm," I reported, "I need you to do the injection. It took a lot to get her into a state where she's physically ready to allow her body to override her brain and conceive. It's now or never!"

"This is unexpected!" Dr Velour exclaimed, "I'm hardly dressed for the procedure."

In frustration, I declared, "I've done much more than I ever expected or wanted to do to accomplish the task: impregnation." I shook my head. "Let me take Cindy into the female visitor's shower. We can do her in the shower," I demanded.

"Do her?" Dr Velour seemed surprised.

"In the shower you'd be perfectly attired to accomplish the task," I observed wryly, "Wouldn't you agree?"

I recruited a male nursing assistant about ready to go off duty to help me lift Cindy off the table and guide her into the shower. "Patient is here for impregnation," I noted as we each led Cindy, her fingers furiously stimulating her clit, to the showers. "Hopefully, Dr Velour will arrive with the sap in time," I declared.

"I can't help you there. Dr Velour locks down male nurses in chastity before they can enter the female ward or deal with Surrogates," the male assistant smiled, as we put Cindy, still stimulating herself in pre-orgasmic euphoria, under a spigot.

The heat was overbearing. I pulled my top off and tossed my bra in the corner. "The shower should be warm enough to keep her revved up," I assured myself as I stepped out of the bottom and went under the spigot with Cindy.

My colleague commented. "Fortunately, not cold enough to turn a hot girl in heat off." Looking me over, my colleague rendered a candid appraisal, "cute lime green thong matches the color of the scrubs."

Standing facing Cindy, I found myself running on the momentum of arousal. Dropping my thong, I slipped my fingers down my abdomen, between my legs into my clit. I swayed in synch with Cindy. Our chests heaved in unison. My lips puckered, blowing Cindy a kiss.

Our lips met. Her tongue invaded my mouth We manually simulated ourselves furiously. I became aware that Dr Velour had entered the room holding a syringe. Was it a foot long and an inch in diameter? Would that fit inside Cindy's love port? I wondered.

My boss, Dr Velour, was here but I didn't care. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Dr Velour hand the syringe to the male assistant. Would he administer the man - sap?

I felt the pads of a woman's long narrow fingers gently lubricating my sphincter with circular motions going deeper with each rotation. Dr Velour's breasts pushed against my hip as she pulled Cindy's vagina toward mine. Was this part of the procedure? I wondered.

Even if the stranger's sperm was not inserted in me, I may have reached a new level in which the demand and sacrifice was something I may never have assented to in advance. Nonetheless, I deemed myself true to Jerry.

I felt a quaking deep inside me start to rumble from the depths of my body shoot into my uterus causing exhilarating contractions, growing in intensity until I crashed senselessly on the shower floor. I fell asleep as the water dripped upon us, my head resting comfortably on Cindy's soft breasts.

When I awoke, I found myself alone. The female visitor's showers were dark. The water was turned off. A blanket was thrown over my bare body. My sneakers were gone; my feet were bare. My scrubs were nowhere to be seen. I had no idea what time it was.

A lone towel and a bar of soap sat on a rack. I supposed that was a hint.

It was as if I was in a vision as I showered down. I worked the bar of soap in my hands into frothy, sudsy cream bubbling with bubbles. When I spread the creamy soapsuds over my shoulders into my smooth underarms, I appraised myself. In a few days, my armpits would need attention.

I ran the bubbly mix across my chest, gently working the cream into my breasts, teasing my nipples with the pads of my fingers. Letting my hands wander, I reached my pubic mound.

Bristle was starting to grow in coarse. My pubic hair had been removed in a training exercise here at the clinic. It was itchy but Jerry preferred hairy pubes. Whenever I felt guilty about something, I tried to accommodate Jerry.

Though tempted, I resisted recapturing the mood. Instead I chose to reach behind me. I spread the foam over my bare butt into my crack.

With a sigh, I ceased stimulating myself and allowed the falling water to carry the suds off. I lowered my head to watch the stream of bubbles carried off into the drain in the floor.

Alighting from the shower, I found myself on the catwalk in the darkened female wing. Over in the male wing, I could see lights were still on. As I walked on the catwalk, I could hear Dr Velour below in the subterranean gym chatting with some male donors who were using some of the exercise equipment. Dr Velour was nude as per her rules for female usage of the facility.

What would Dr Velour's reaction be? Had giving into the feelings of the moment led to failure? What would Dr Velour do or say? I wondered. I prepared to defend myself. After all! Dr Velour had engaged with me in bringing Cindy to orgasm and had withheld administration of the man juice.