Your Previous Donation

This story began its life as a strange random thought while reading something else. When I finally got it out of my head into written form, it was posted (under this same name) as a script for GWA in August of 2020. I decided it had even more potential as a story to be posted here on Lit, so I got to work converting it.

It turned out to be much more work than I had expected, but also very rewarding, as it allowed more room to add emotional reaction to Mark's character. Britney was certainly a character I found myself enamored with, and I wouldn't be against writing her into another piece.

I have to send out a major thank you to my two wonderfully thoughtful and helpful editors: Sofy and Fred!

As I said in my previous story, I read and welcome all comments. I'll even try to reply to all of them. Feel free to be brutal with your criticism, as long as it is constructive. "This story sucks!" - Not helpful. "This story sucks because... (insert reason here)" - Much better!

Enjoy!

There was a short set of timid knocks at my door, which drew my attention immediately. I had been sitting on the couch, lost in a mindless game on my cell phone and I appreciated a distraction. I felt certain that it wasn't someone political, religious, or a salesperson. The knock would have been much louder and more confident. I was guessing it was one of the neighbor kids or maybe someone lost that needed directions or a phone.

I opened the door without hesitation and found myself face to face with a rather pretty woman in a white lab coat carrying a small bag, about the size of a purse. The bag clearly couldn't close: there was a manila folder jammed in it that was too tall and sticking out the top.

Her coat had no company logo or name tag, but there was a card dangling on a cord from her left breast pocket.

She was looking down at her feet and, since she was quite a bit shorter than I was, I couldn't see her facial features.

She looked up after a second, showing some gorgeous hazel eyes and a friendly but uncertain smile.

She cautiously said, "Mr. Owens... Mark Owens?"

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"

She was gazing at me in a strange way, then suddenly blinked rapidly, looking for what to say.

"Um... sorry... I lost my train of thought for a second. You're taller than I was expecting. I mean, your height is in your file, I just didn't... anyway, sorry. Hi, I'm... I'm Britney Meyers..." She looked down and flipped over the card hanging by a clip on her chest, which showed a little picture with her name and some other information that was too small to read. I didn't recognize the company logo, which was a stylized letter F. It looked like it was on a retractable lanyard for unlocking security doors.

She tapped the logo and answered my unasked question, "I'm a Lab Technician for the Freeside Family Planning Agency." She offered me her hand.

I arched my eyebrow in total confusion while shaking her hand. Now I was completely lost.

"I doubt you've heard of my company, but I can explain everything." She nervously glanced up and down the street. "Can I come inside? I have something I need to discuss with you of a... personal nature."

I saw no reason to deny her. There was certainly nothing threatening in her behavior. "Yeah, sure, come on in."

"Thank you, sorry, I just feel like I'm being watched. Paranoid, I guess."

She came in and stood just inside and softly sighed with relief as I closed the door.

"Um, technically speaking, me talking with you isn't... legal."

I was a bit shocked, and had no idea how to respond. "Uh, what?"

"I mean... not like... can we just say it's a legal gray area?"

I was still alarmed. "Am I going to get in trouble talking to you?"

"No! No, you wouldn't be in trouble. I meant it's a legal gray area forme. Your identity is supposed to be kept anonymous from clients..."

"Clients?" I asked, still baffled by this whole exchange.

"Um, I have a copy of your file here..."

She set her bag on the floor and pulled the folder out of it. I tried reading the label on the tab, but only caught my first name, "Mark." She opened the folder, skimming the information on the front page. I couldn't read anything from my angle, but there was clearly a rather old picture of me there. Was she breaking a law by just telling me that this folder existed?

"There's a really grainy picture of you here, that's how I knew this was your place," she said, tapping the photo. Then she looked up at me. "I actually... uh, I stopped by yesterday... but I was too nervous to come knock. I watched you come home and get out of your car...

"Sorry! That sounded awful... I'm not a stalker or anything, I just..."

She was getting really flustered and was blushing.

"Um, could I have some water, please?"

I hadn't realized she would be staying for more than a minute or two. She clearly was going to need more of my time than that, I should have offered some hospitality. "Yes, of course! Are you okay with filtered tap water? It's cold." I asked over my shoulder already on the way to the kitchen.

"Yes, that would be great, thank you."

I pulled my Brita pitcher from the fridge and poured two glasses. I had never gotten used to the taste of the water here in the city. I had grown up in a small town a half a state away from here.

I handed her a glass and sat at my dining room table with mine, gesturing to the seat across from me.

She sat and took a long drink. "Thank you. I'm just so nervous and my mouth is really dry."

She held the glass with both hands, having trouble keeping eye contact. "Well, my agency, we help... you know... plan families. Hence the name."

"Like Planned Parenthood?" It was the only intelligent thing I could think to ask. This was all foreign territory to me.

"We're not affiliated with Planned Parenthood, but we do some of the same stuff, and we generally avoid mentioning them. We're more... private, I guess. Upscale. Exclusive. Ritzy, you could say.

"It's a place for wealthy couples that are having trouble conceiving and don't mind the 6 figure price tag."

I nodded with some familiarity with this topic, "in vitro?"

"Yeah, in vitro, IVF. That's a big moneymaker.

"Now, I'm not hereofficially. I'm not a representative, and I don't normally interact with clients at all in my job. I'm a lab tech... It's probably obvious that I'm new to this."

I had to smile at that. At least she was aware of her lack of confidence, which I could now see was from lack of experience. I could tell she was normally a bit shy, and likely an introvert, given her choice of career.

She continued, "You know, you're being awfully polite, considering I'm an unannounced stranger... and I'm sure you're dying for me to get to the point."

It occurred to me that I was enjoying our conversation, even though so far it had been pretty aimless. Since when have I ever enjoyed small talk?

I blinked at my own revelation and nodded for her to continue.

"So, let's... uh... let's take a hypothetical situation. Let's say you made some sperm donations a few years ago..."

My eyes went wide.Oh shit, I had totally forgotten about that! That was years ago, back in college!

She tapped the folder in front of her. "Yes, that's what this file is from. You didn't donate tomy company, that's why you've never heard of us. I'll get to that part.

"Let's say that a couple comes into our office that wants to select a candidate donor for their IVF procedure. They give us specifics on what they're looking for. We have a huge national database that we can tap into; anything from height and eye color to GPA and test scores. Whatever they find important, we can use it to filter the donors.

"Now let's say they pickyou as their donor. It's anonymous on their end, they don't know your name or anything, just the attributes they're looking for. We have your container delivered to us from whatever storage freezer currently has it. The couple comes in, we extract some eggs from the woman, and get started in the lab. That's my job. I'm the gal that puts tab A into slot B, except in a petri dish.

"Now, let's say that something unexpected happens. The container gets lost in delivery, accidentally thrown out, gets contaminated by some chemicals..."

Her eyes dropped to her hands and her face turned bright red with embarrassment. She quietly mumbled, "Or... some forgetful lab technician accidentally leaves it out... over the weekend... at room temperature..."

I groaned, understanding some of the pain she was feeling. We'd all made big mistakes at a job at some point.

She glanced up with hooded eyes. "Yeah. So... Now you know why I'm so damn... mortified! I ruined all of it! It couldn't be saved. They were all dead."

She sighed.

Meanwhile, I was reeling from this avalanche of information. So many puzzle pieces had clicked into place in such a short time. I could already guess where this was going.

"And, it gets worse. You see, we cater to the rich. Normally, when we need more sperm for a client for any reason, they call the original donor, which would be you, and they'd ask you to come back in and we'd pay you for another 'deposit.' The client gets charged some generic-sounding fee, and that gets passed on to you as a premium for having to return.

"Trust me, these people are used to paying for multiple rounds of in vitro, at over a hundred K per attempt. They don't blink at an extra five thousand dollar 'outside consulting fee' or whatever they put on the paperwork. And offering that extra money usually guarantees that the donor doesn't hesitate to come in.

"But in this case, the client isn't some CEO and his wife or Hollywood actors... it's... me." She was sheepishly holding one hand in the air.

I sat up straight with a start. "You?" I asked, incredulous.

"Actually, that's only half true. Wedo have a client that selected you as the donor. She's a young widow whose husband left her a fortune but no children. She liked your math and science test scores from your SAT, I think. She paid the transfer fee and your sample was sent to our lab. It's been in our freezer for months. She's been in multiple times trying to get a successful implantation. I only know that because I've gotten your sample out of storage and prepped some multiple times.

"I got curious at one point, so I pulled your file."

She was chewing her bottom lip and looking out the window, choosing her next words.

"I've been doing this job for a couple years now, and the more I do it, the more I feel like I want this for myself. Like... I could do this. I could impregnatemyself and actually have a baby of my own. I don't have a boyfriend or anything, I'm just... not good with relationships, I guess. I'm really shy most of the time. I'm sure you've noticed."

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious." I said, nodding.

"But I got baby fever. My sister just had her first a few weeks ago, and I have to admit that I've been crazy jealous.

"When I looked at your file, I just decided I was going to try it. I'd stay in the lab late on Friday, after everyone left..."

I interjected in surprise, "Wait, wait... Exactly what's involved in this procedure? How do you extract your own eggs!? That seems like it could go horribly wrong!"

She waved a hand and shook her head. "No, no, I wouldn't try that. That's a bit too involved, and I have no training doing that anyway. But I can certainly do an ICI."

She looked up at me and could see I wasn't following.

"Uh, IntraCervical Insemination. It's just like it sounds... just prep the sperm and squirt it in through the cervix with a syringe and a thin flexible tube. It's actually kind of crude compared to other stuff we can do, and it wouldn't be hard to do on myself.

"But I didn't. I got scared. I was still thawing the sample and getting ready to dilute it when the janitorial staff showed up and... I panicked. I tried to hurry up and get everything put away. I swear I put the container back in the freezer... but... nope..."

She sighed, head hanging from her shoulders in defeat.

"So..." she said quietly to the table. "So, I need to fix this."

She looked up at me with some forced determination.

"At the moment there's an empty sample container in the freezer with the label 'Mark Owens.' You and I are the only ones that know it's empty. I need to... you know... damn, this is embarrassing... I need your help to fix it before anyone else finds out."

She was pleading with her eyes, with her palms turned up and held out to me.

"I don't have anything to offer you. I can't just cough up five grand or whatever..."

She was clearly ashamed of what she was asking, but also had a very good reason for doing so. Her sincerity kept me from simply laughing and sending her away, but she was asking for something very personal. Actually, just about as personal a request as you can get.

"Let me think for a minute. This is a lot to take in." I sat back and took another drink of my water to buy some time.

The sperm donation that I had done was back in my first year of college. It wasn't because of a dare or a bet, it was a logical decision. Or at least it was logical to me at the time.

I was such a socially awkward kid with poor self-esteem and no confidence. Going into college I was ashamed to still be a virgin and then when my father passed away abruptly it was a real wake-up call. As an only child, it felt like a great responsibility was on my shoulders and I couldn't face the idea that my family line would end with me.

The sperm donation was a fail-safe, a backup plan. My main plan was to work on myself, my physical health and appearance as well as social skills. I even took some dance classes.

Even though I was single at that moment I'd had a handful of serious relationships since those early college days that had proven to me that actually becoming a father was well within my capabilities.

But what about this backup plan? This lovely woman across from me had basically admitted that she wanted to be mother of one of my children, and who knows how many others out there I had already fathered from those few weeks I had gone in to make donations? I was certainly curious, but odds are that I'd never know.

I sighed. Who was I to say no? Not like it would cost me anything but my own time. As long as it stayed anonymous, the risk was negligible.

"Okay, so... how would we do this?"

She immediately beamed at me, both happiness and surprise clearly evident.

I continued. "Did you want me to make an appointment tomorrow or just walk in at your place to the front desk and... ask to... make a deposit?"

"No, not at my lab. We're not a collection facility, if you went to the front desk they'd just send you somewhere else. That won't solve my problem."

She was fidgeting again.

"I need to fix this by replacing what I destroyed before someone else gets out that empty container. My only real option is to... collect... um... you know... right here. So, I brought a medical bag with some sterilized containers..." She picked up her bag and put it on the table, opening it all the way and dug inside.

Things had been pretty awkward from the moment I answered the door, but now they had just jumped another whole order of magnitude up the scale. I realized what she was asking for, and I couldn't help it -- I was gawking at her!

When I didn't respond, she looked up at me and considered my reaction. She took on a look of desperation and quietly asked, "...would you, for me? Please, Mark?"

Hearing her say my name in that way struck a chord in me. I couldn't say no at this point, not to her. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? I sighed and reached out for her to give me one of the plastic bottles.

"Really?" She was asking, but also didn't hesitate to hand one of them over.

"Thank you so much, you're literally saving my career here. And please, please don't say a word to anyone about this, okay? Here's a bottle. I have some sanitizing wipes and stuff, too..."

She stopped and looked around the room.

"We should go to your kitchen, or bathroom. You know... somewhere without carpet..." She was blushing with her own embarrassment, but also thinking of the practical concerns. Definitely a lab tech.

"Uh, yeah," I was nearly stuttering, trying to wrap my head around what I'd just agreed to, "I guess the bathroom would make the most sense."

"Lead the way, then!"

I stood and quickly retreated to the bathroom. It was definitely a retreat, I had to get somewhere alone to collect myself before I could even think about... well, what I had to do.

"Hey! Don't close the door on me. I'm coming in, too."

She was right behind me, and had put her hand on the door just as I was closing it. I was starting to panic. What was going on?

"What's wrong? Why that look?"

"Uh, I was going to... um." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect myself. "I need some alone time, you know?"

I expected her to relent and give me privacy. I didn't need instructions or help, after all. Instead, she pushed her way in and then closed the door.

"Just... try and pretend I'm not here. Just do what you'd normally do. I won't watch, if it makes you nervous." I was dumbfounded, she was being totally serious. Outwardly, she was being totally professional, almost deadpan, like I was getting ready to give a urine sample. This was so much more personal. Only the bright red blush of her cheeks and neck revealed that she was feeling any different.

"Oh, open the bottle first, so you won't have to try to open it when... you know..."

I had to either bite the bullet and do this, or chicken out and send her away.

Fuck it, I thought to myself with a mental sigh as I broke the seal and unscrewed the cap, placing it face-up on the side of the sink.

"Okay. Now... how do you usually do this?" Finally, her stoic façade had started to crack and she was starting to mirror some of the nervousness I felt.

"Sorry! I'm not trying to be awkward or annoying. I know, it's putting pressure on you and all that, but... just show me what you normally do when you're..." The professionalism was gone now. The true Britney was showing again.

"Argh! I'm so bad at this. Just do what you normally do when you... masturbate. There, I said it." She exhaled loudly. "I'm just here to make sure everything is done right, okay?"

Forcing myself not to think, I set down the bottle briefly to unbutton and unzip my pants. They were a little loose on me, so they just fell to the floor without effort.

"Right, pants off. Good. You should sit, right? It's a little weird to sit on the toilet. How about the side of the bathtub?"

Nodding, I grabbed the bottle and cap, placing them on the edge of the bathtub in the corner, careful not to touch the sterilized insides of either, and then sat down.

"That's probably safer than trying to do it standing. I've... um... I've been able to... masturbate... while standing before." She was blushing furiously. I could see that she was trying to take some of the attention off of me by talking about herself, and I was immediately thankful.

"It was kind of just to see if I could. My legs were shaking so hard I almost fell over." She grinned, still flushed red with her own embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry. I tend to just say weird stuff without thinking."

I smiled back at her, glad to have her in the spotlight for the moment. To keep her encouraged, I added, "No, I don't mind. You can keep talking if you like. It helps, and I like hearing about you."

She asked, "So now what?" I could tell under her blushing that she was curious, and starting to look a little eager.

"Well, uh, you said you want me to do this now I normally do it, right? I mean, other than sitting on the side of the bathtub. I've never done this before." I reached over to my pants, which were still on the floor where I had been standing. "Normally, I would be in my bed, with my laptop or my phone."