Primal Reproduction

Dr. Emeril Cox sat at his desk, watching Linda Foster, waiting for her response to his long description of his group fertility procedure. He'd delivered this speech so many times, each time altering it for his audience. In this instance he hadn't even been entirely sure about offering this technique to Mrs. Foster. He felt he was a good judge of character and intelligence, able to pick those who would be willing to undergo the group fertility procedure, rather than waste his time on those who wouldn't be able to understand it. A long silence always came at this point.

Mrs. Foster was looking at him, trying to process what he said and then finally spoke.

"It sounds like a gang-bang," she finally said.

Dr. Cox was surprised at first, not expecting her to respond with such a crude word, but he covered it with a light chuckle.

"Well, I can see why you'd think that, Mrs. Foster," he responded. "In fact you're not the first person to say that. And in a way you're right."

Now, she looked at him somewhat surprised.

"Of course I would prefer for you to not think of it in those terms. That has pornographic undertones and what we're discussing is not pornographic. We're discussing reproduction," he said and paused, seeing if his words were having any effect. "Fertility," he added and nodded his head.

"The procedure is just me being..." she stopped, her eyes glancing around his office, obviously about to say a curse word, but trying to find something less profane, "... well, excuse me, for saying it, but it's just me being fucked by several men, one after the other."

He repressed his urge to sigh at her for deciding to actually use profanity in his office, disappointed she hadn't corrected herself, disappointed that perhaps he had actually been wrong this one time in judging her character, her intelligence, her ability to see past her own prejudices and to that which was exceptional.

"I understand your misgivings, Mrs. Foster," he said. "As I said I've heard these very things many times." He heard he was repeating himself and sat up straight. "And I've heard much worse I assure you." He smiled, waiting for his smile to spread to her lips, but it didn't. "We are not discussing pornography, or rather I am not." He heard the bitterness in his voice and caught himself, making his face more serious. "We are discussing a scientifically proven fertility treatment. You have the documentation in front of you." He pointed to the binder laying on his desk in front of her. "In there you will find the papers I've published, containing years of research, rigorous scientific research. Research that is peer-reviewed and published in the most respected journals covering the fields of biology, reproduction, and fertility treatments."

She looked down at the binder, but her brows arched disapprovingly.

"And of course there's also a video disc presenting much of that material in less scientific terms, explaining the procedure and its very strong basis in research and scientific method," he continued, holding himself back from wanting to drill this information into her head, to make her understand, wondering why she didn't understand as he had expected. "As you know I'm the leading fertility clinician in the country. I received the award for top fertility and reproduction physician from the National Association of Fertility Treatments and Reproductive Medicine in 2027 and the each of the four years following." Of course he didn't mention he'd paid for it, at least paid for it that first year, the other years had come from merit he told himself.

"So you won... that award," she said, "for five of the past six years. What happened last year?"

Dr. Cox sighed deeply. How many times had he had to answer that question?

"This last year it was won by a Dr. Benson," he replied. He forced a proud grin on his lips as he continued. "He is actually a former pupil and at one time even a partner of mine. But we split ways..."

"What did he win the award for?" she asked with real interest.

Dr. Cox waved his hand as if to shoo away the question and the completely irrelevant answer that would follow. "Oh, it was something completely undeserving of the award and the committee is already finding themselves embarrassed as Dr. Benson has found himself in a lawsuit for the very technique he received the award for." He hoped that would be enough to end the conversation.

"And what was that?" she asked anyway.

Dr. Cox sighed again, showing this discussion was only wasting their time. "He developed a technique, a new age technique involving hypnotism that many have construed as mind control and he's received charges of rape from some," he blurted out quickly.

"Oh... I hadn't heard of that," she said. Dr. Cox looked at her disapprovingly. She seemed to know very little about the field from which she was hoping to benefit.

"It's an embarrassment to all those in our field and a somewhat personal embarrassment to myself since we were once... so close... But he strayed. I'd like to say I saw it coming. I saw something... wrong coming from him, so we parted ways, but I had no idea the direction he would go."

Dr. Cox put on his friendly smile again, hoping to bury the discussion on Dr. Benson with that last comment and turning it to this own embarrassment so she wouldn't want to continue with the discussion. She nodded and smiled signaling she was done with that.

"Look, Mrs. Foster, you came to me knowing you'd receive only the best, most advanced, most effective information on reproduction techniques." She was looking at him, her face starting to show she was sorry for her initial response to his ideas and his upfront discussion about an embarrassing situation for himself, seeing him now as more trustworthy. "And I assure you, Mrs. Foster, I am not a pornographer," he finished and chuckled as he sat back in his chair.

She actually smiled this time and looked down, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry Dr. Cox, I never meant to imply you were," she said, looking up at him, her shoulders squaring, overcoming the embarrassment with a smile. He thought he was winning her over finally.

"I know you didn't Mrs. Foster. I'm just making a joke," he responded lightly.

"I guess I'm just confused. This isn't what I expected when I came here," she responded.

He knew that had to be a lie. Everyone that came here knew of his procedures, especially the group fertility procedure. He'd been in the news several times. He'd been vilified by religious leaders, politicians, and anyone with an ill-informed opinion and a way to voice it. Of course he'd made the news on other occasions for his innovative research, so it's possible she only knew his name but not the reasons why.

"Well we offer many different procedures, all tailored for our patients' specific needs," he said, using the word 'we' though he was the only doctor there. "We don't offer the group fertility procedure to everyone, only those whom we think it will offer the most benefit and to those we deem open-minded, logical, reasonable, and dedicated to personal reproduction enough to attempt it." He let that last part sink in, a slight poke at her pride. "But we offer more traditional procedures as well. Though, nothing we do here is traditional. My research has led to techniques and methods far beyond what anyone could consider truly 'traditional.' But by traditional I mean the more common, and less successful, techniques such as in-vitro fertilization."

"How much more successful would your group technique be as compared to the more 'traditional' techniques?" she asked.

"It depends Mrs. Foster," he answered. "For certain fertility problems the difference is negligible and in such a case I wouldn't recommend it. But for cases such as yours I've documented up to 30% increase in successful fertilization and up to 50% increase in full term and healthy pregnancy."

"Wow," she said, her eyes growing larger.

"Yes, the numbers don't lie," he said, smiling at her. But of course numbers don't lie, people do, and people, especially those good with numbers, can make the numbers come out as they want.

She touched the binder as if she was going to open it but she didn't.

"I guess I should read about it. I need to talk it over with my husband. But I'm very reluctant to even consider it and I know he will be as well," she said.

"I understand that, Mrs. Foster. I'd be happy to talk to both of you... if he can find the time to come in to talk with us," he said, the smile never leaving his lips. "These are issues you'd have to discuss with each other."

She was silent, looking at the binder, then to the side, questions obviously in her mind.

"You can ask me anything you want. That's why I'm here," he reassured her.

"Well," she said, obviously searching for the right words to ask. "I don't understand how having sex with many men is necessary to increase my chances of fertilization and successful full-term pregnancy. How is that better than in-vitro?"

"I understand," he said, nodding. "Well, with in-vitro as you know we take one of your eggs from your body, we fertilize it, then place the fertilized egg inside of you, roughly speaking. The problems here are easy to see, all involved with the more unnatural side of this procedure: removing the egg from its environment, fertilizing it mechanically, then placing it back. All of these steps require force and none of these have anything to do with how the human body naturally reproduces. Now, this doesn't mean this isn't a good technique for many women. But no matter the specific situation, the group fertility technique offers marked improvements."

"I still don't understand," she said. Of course she didn't. He was being deliberately vague, trying to lead her to his way of thinking.

"Let me continue then," he said. "Evolutionary reproductive biology has made tremendous strides in the past couple of decades. I myself have been a leader in this field." He smiled proudly. "First and foremost we must always remember that sex is merely a method for reproduction. That it's very pleasurable is an evolutionary development. Naturally those species that find that act of reproducing the most pleasurable will reproduce more. We as humans have separated the act of sexual pleasure from that of reproduction but biologically speaking they are very much linked."

She nodded, listening but waiting for him to get to his point.

"But," he continued, "while we humans may often have sex for physical pleasure, the true purpose, the underlying biological need is for reproduction, for sending a sperm into an egg."

"So," she interrupted, "the idea is to just pump as much sperm into me as possible?"

Dr. Cox held back a disappointed frustrated sigh, and smiled instead. This woman was really trying his patience.

"In part yes," he said, taking her by surprise again. "But this is not just a matter of pumping large amounts of sperm into you." He chuckled and continued. "If we were to compare the group fertility procedure to a method inserting an analogous amount of sperm into a woman, the group fertility procedure shows much higher percentage of success, up to 40% greater." He smiled to himself, seeing interest come back into her eyes.

"So what's the difference?" she asked.

"I'm glad you asked," he said, leaning forward, enjoying explaining his science to her. "In part we have sperm competition. We know that males are aroused by watching other males have sex, even having sex with their own mates. That's why men watch pornography. They don't necessarily imagine themselves with the woman they are watching, though they do that as well. But they are just aroused by watching other people having sex. And they have a desire to compete against that male and inseminate that woman themselves, spreading his own genetic code. And this desire allows a man to create more sperm in a single ejaculation than he would otherwise."

He paused letting the impact of that last statement make his point. She nodded but didn't respond, so he continued.

"So each man involved in a group sex situation will create more sperm per ejaculation. Also he'll become aroused sooner than he would alone and will find it easier to become aroused enough to ejaculate more times as compared to being alone. Also, my research has determined that the individual sperm are more viable. They have increased mobility and motility."

"So this is all about having men creating more and better sperm?" she asked, interested but still very skeptical.

"In large part, yes, but there's more to it. We only have to compare the male and female orgasms. Men typically have a single orgasm during a sexual experience. The group fertility procedure allows them to have more orgasms and more fertile ejaculations. The same happens for a woman. Women have evolved the ability to have multiple orgasms." Here he paused as he always did when he reached this part. "Of course not all women have multiple orgasms. It's possible for most women, even for those who have not done it yet." He looked to see her response and could tell that she did not have them. "So women are evolutionarily designed to have intercourse for longer periods of time than a single man, naturally leading to the idea that they should have multiple partners. And my research has found that as a woman's pleasure increases, and as she's penetrated by different partners during a single sexual experience her body unleashes more of the hormones necessary to create a womb friendly to a fertilized egg."

She looked at him skeptically so he wound up his explanation.

"So while having multiple male partners increases the number of viable sperm on the male side, on the female side it creates a womb better for that fertilized egg. I'm sure you can see how this would create an increase in successful reproduction as compared to the more mechanical and much less natural in-vitro." He made sure to stress the word 'natural,' knowing how people were drawn to those things described as 'natural' or 'organic' despite what the words meant in a specific situation.

"I think I understand what you're saying," she said, leaning back in her chair, thinking about it. "I guess I just don't understand why it would be that much better than in vitro which ensures that an egg is fertilized."

He smiled and nodded. "I understand your reservations. All I can do is point to the research." He pointed to the binder on his desk. "The research doesn't lie."

She nodded.

"So how exactly is the procedure performed?" she asked.

"I've found the best way is to separate the woman from the male insemination volunteers. I've devised a simple divider wherein the woman is basically laying in one room with her lower body in another room where she cannot see the men and they cannot see her. While not ideal from an evolutionary and scientific standpoint, I've found the anonymity makes it much more comfortable for all parties, especially the female," he said.

She frowned, obviously not liking the image in her head.

"Pictures are included in the binder. Nothing pornographic I assure you," he said.

"But I don't want to be impregnated by just any man. I want my husband's child," she responded.

"Of course you do," he said. "I was assuming you had read of my research in this area."

"I guess I haven't," she said.

Dr. Cox hid his growing anger at this woman who seemed to have no knowledge and no respect for him and his work.

"After certain political and religious institutions put a stop to research on fertilized eggs, thus stopping all research on altering and improving eggs in the womb, research continued on altering the genetic code of the sperm and the eggs. As you know we were able to greatly lower the chances for certain diseases and illnesses by altering the sperm and unfertilized eggs, which no one could argue successfully was tampering with actual life."

She nodded.

"Good," he said, "We extended this research and we can actually inject the genetic structure of one man into the sperm of other men."

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting up straight, interested again.

"We can take a sperm sample from your husband," he said. "Then we can insert that genetic information into the sperm of the insemination volunteers involved in the procedure so that all of their sperm contains your husband's genetic information."

"Wow," she said, now genuinely surprised again.

"Yes," he smiled. "Now, this we can only do to sperm that are already formed, not every sperm the volunteers will make. So the men we use must be injected the day before the procedure, then they are good for a day or two."

"That's interesting," she said.

"Thank you," he responded proudly.

He sat there quietly, letting her think. He was feeling his frustration with her dissipate as she now finally saw at least some of the genius in his work and perhaps would be persuaded to undergo his group fertility procedure. In his mind he was already seeing her laying on his table, her upper body only visible, moving back and forth from the force of the men fucking her on the other side of the barrier. He saw a group of men, each man naked with erection standing out, waiting patiently for his turn, while one man then another then another, entered her, thrust into her again and again, until each man plunged deep inside her, emptying himself into her. He felt that squirming in his stomach and shifted in his chair. He was becoming aroused. He tried to not look at her low-cut blouse showing two ample breasts that would surely shake wonderfully as she was fucked and forced himself to look over her shoulder, still lingering longingly on the curve of her bare neck.

"I still don't think this is for us," she finally said.

He looked back at her, the shock of a negative response washing out those luscious images.

"Pardon me?" he asked, letting a bit of anger and disappointment come out in his voice for the first time during their discussion.

"I just don't think this is something I'm willing to do. And I know it's something my husband wouldn't want," she said. "It just sounds... disgusting."

He looked at her and imagined himself leaning across the desk, yelling at her, telling her she was disgusting, that she didn't understand, that she was a stupid cunt who didn't understand the exceptional gift he was offering her.

"I understand," he said, pushing away all emotion, feeling himself becoming cool towards her, but unable to do anything about it. "We can certainly work with you on that. We can perform the in-vitro. We have developed some exciting techniques analogous to what we've just discussed that will increase your chances for successful pregnancy as well." He couldn't stand to have her in his office anymore. He stood up. "All of the information is in the binder. Please look it over with your husband and get back to us when you determine what you're comfortable with."

Dr. Cox was looking down at her, wanting her out of his office before he became more angry with her, with her ignorance and lack of respect.

"Thank you, doctor," she said, standing up nervously.

She grabbed the binder, shook his hand quickly, and left his office.

Dr. Cox stood still by his desk for several minutes, images flooding his mind of things he would do to her, none of them pleasant for her, all punishment for her treatment of him and his genius. He clenched his jaw and hoped that she would call back. He'd get her back. He'd prove who was disgusting.

The next day Dr. Cox was feeling much better. After his meeting with Linda Foster he'd cancelled his other appointments for the afternoon, too angry to be able to talk reasonably with his patients. But the next morning he had no consultations, just a procedure to perform with Mrs. Angela Davis. She was a beautiful 25-year old woman whom he'd judged perfectly on their first meeting and who had been entirely open to everything he said. Her husband, George Davis, had been hesitant, but he was used to doing what his wife wanted and had agreed.