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PT 8: Fertility Clinic: Commencement An End and A Beginning

They call the end of school at every level, a commencement, a beginning. One day, you’re just a kid in school. Then, suddenly you’re out and become the master of your own destiny. Graduation day, an end and a beginning, came with both fear and anticipation.

Before graduation I had to complete my thesis from my internship in the Western Avenue Fertility Clinic. Leafing through study materials Dr Velour furnished me to assist me, my husband Jerry, an engineering student, commented, “Nature is the ultimate guide for engineering. Here in your medical study guides, it says that the most effective manner to draw down milk and prepare a female for breast feeding, is suckling. A partner or even a friend should take the breast in the mouth, create a suction and begin to suck. It makes the breast sound like a pump.”

Reaching under my blouse to play with my breasts, Jerry suggested that we conduct an experiment to test the statement. “Science cannot accept an unverified statement.”

Pushing his hands away and playfully spurning my advances, I reminded Jerry, “my trust fund runs out this year. Unless you want me to sell my body as a surrogate, I have to finish my thesis.” When Jerry presented that hung dog, crestfallen look, I promised to allow Jerry to test his hypothesis on the first day of work after graduation.

“I will get first dibs on the opportunity to test the proposition that the human body is a well – designed machine,” Jerry vowed with mock seriousness.

My thesis on the motivations of sperm donors and surrogates incorporated a section on the ethics of concealing from the surrogate the identity of her inseminator. The later section on ethics was intended to become the basis for the larger project Dr Velour assigned to me on the ethics of selective breeding.

The university accepted my thesis on the motivations of people involved in the process of artificial insemination. The reviewing professor in my industrial Psychology programme noting, “Oh, you were the young lady who interned in a Fertility clinic,” commented with a quick shake of his head, “fascinating work.”

“Indeed,” I replied.

Passing my thesis, the professor read a line about the motivations of the Fertility Clinic’s donors and surrogates aloud, “`How it appears? curiosity allures them, money assures them, the attention secures them.’ Sounds like a jingle. Dr Velour should consider your overtures for developing her,” he raised his eyebrows with a chuckle, “her brochures.”

With a cunning half – smile, I retorted, “Words most worthy, carry the rhyme a step further.”

For my graduation, Jerry bought me a dress. Considering I had worn dungarees and his T – shirt to our wedding in the bar around the corner, I effusively thanked Jerry for a generous present.

Jerry laughed. “Why would you need something expensive for the wedding? I was only going to rip it off your body.”

To my surprise, Jerry even went to my graduation. I offered to go to his commencement from the engineering college, but he smirked, “I had enough drill and ceremonies in the Corps.”

The party was soon over. I started full – time at the clinic on Monday morning. I was permanent now, but I as I entered, I was greeted on the `Walk of Shame’ from the locker to the shower by Dr Velour. Enthusiastically hugging me, bouncing her bare butt against mine, bobbing her bare breasts into mine, Dr Velour sent a pleasant tingle through my body. Congratulating me on graduation, Dr Velour held out the promise, “Complete your Nursing Assistant program and the discourse I assigned you on `Ethical problems in selective breeding’ and we’ll talk about a position in management.”

“On ethics of inseminating a surrogate artificially,” I posed the question, “if actual physical contact with the donor would be unlawful, I’d like to review the form contracts you use with the sperm donors and surrogates. It may provide an answer to the question of whether the surrogate and/or the donor should be advised if the selected donor and surrogate are closely related.”

With a comforting pat on my bare back, Dr Velour slipped away into the shower. I last saw her muscular, round butt vanishing into the warm, mist. Was I admiring her body?

I was busy in the morning playing the warden, releasing the bulls, the male donors, from the chastity shield and inspecting their genitalia. Unfortunately, word spreads quickly in the clinic. The bulls chided me about my prospective transfer to the female section. “Afraid of dealing with real men,” upbraided one bull. His teasing brought a round of a hearty laughter.

“I’ll return the compliment,” I retorted, “in this locker, I wear the crown. Under lock and key, I keep your implement. It is I who frees you from peeing sitting down.”

Later, descending into the subsurface level, I found myself walking with a group of bulls, phallus dangling free, headed to the gym. One, a Mr Tim Bogen, a relative newcomer, pulled eryaman escort bayan me aside.

Worry etched on his face, Bogen requested permission to pose a question. “What would you think if your husband registered here as a bull?”

I pondered for a second. “I’d sleep more nights through, wake up fresh still in my PJs more often and get more cuddling time. My eh—partner would learn the use of his tongue. I might like some cunnilingus, now and then. How does your partner feel about your role here?”

“She came her on one of the partners’ days when they allow the bulls to eh -” The bull hesitated.

“Screw,” I suggested.

“Kind-of,” Bogen spoke hesitantly, “Eh—Interaction is subject to strict supervision. Females are protected, like prized animals, from unplanned insemination,” the Bogen grimaced, “Bulls must use a sperm collection condom.”

“I guess Dr Velour has an exclusive output contract with her bulls,” I surmised.

“The clinic starts off females in milk extraction,” the bull recounted.

“I’m sure it’s just an experiment to see if the exercise of the nipples will fool the body into producing milk,” I assured Bogen. “Participants, mostly college girls picking up a quick buck, are paid to have their nipples exercised. What’s the worry? You are permitted to work her nips at home. It can lead to renewal, a new beginning of tender moments and bonding.”

“With me in chastity?” questioned Bogen.

“With you in chastity,” I replied in a comforting voice, “the exercise might increase sexual tension and spur sperm production.”

“But where does that lead to—for her?” Bogen wondered, “Titty tugging is just a beginning. Each step makes the next step easier. Taking money to have her tits pulled can become selling her body for milk production and then getting knocked – up for surrogacy.”

“You really starting to worry about a concern that has yet to present itself. Perhaps, you should explore your feelings with Dr Velour and your partner,” I spoke with an encouraging voice, “I’m just a Nursing Assistant in training, not qualified to counsel you and your partner.”

At the foot of the ramp, I promised to raise his concerns with Dr Velour. Entering the small theatre next to Dr Velour’s office, I found myself alone with Dr Velour, now in her freshly pressed pleated dark skit with heels and white lab jacket over a sweater. The other nursing assistant trainees had not arrived.

“They’ll be down,” Dr Velour informed me, “in a few minutes; Pat is exercising her nipples; Cassie needed to take a shower after working up a sweat in the gym; Beth is expressing milk. They’ll be down after a shower.”

Apprised of the Bogen’s concerns, Dr Velour congratulated me, “you did right by referring the bull to me for guidance.” With a hand on my shoulder, Dr Velour asked, “What do you think makes a good Surrogate?”

“Physically fit enough to carry a baby to term, ovulating, able to conceive,” I replied.

“Physical capability is important. Most women are, but what should I look for in a young woman who wants to be a surrogate?” Dr Velour inquired.

“A motivated person,” I replied.

“Indeed, motivations. That’s what I look for,” Dr Velour exclaimed, “What I look for in a surrogate starting out is the antithesis of a good mother. First, she’s less interested in bringing life into the world than securing an advantage for herself, an objective, material purpose, an expensive house, a limited – edition car, a dream vacation, something beyond their means that a woman might be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for – giving up a child. Second, it is helpful, that a woman be a bit of an exhibitionist, one who enjoys being the center of attraction, the star of the show.”

“I don’t mean to inquire into your personal affairs…” I started.

“But you’ve heard that I financed my medical education by playing surrogate – three times,” Dr Velour chuckled. “I came away in good condition, – don’t you think? – no scars, genitalia intact, abdomen uncut.” With a laugh, Dr Velour reminisced, “medical people are so self – centered that no one noticed I was pregnant—every year.”

“You were not the center of attention?” I was stunned.

“A couple years later, I went to a reunion,” Dr Velour recalled, “an alum approached me… `Weren’t you the girl who skipped graduation because you were pregnant in the last year and delivered? What did you end up having?'” Dr Velour smiled as she reflected, “`Money to pay the tuition,’ was my response.”

“Then, you were not the center of attention?” I was confused.

“Most women feel they are or should be as their baby balloons out,” Dr Velour explained, “Sometimes a husband can be jealous.” With a reassuring back rub, Dr Velour promised, “I’ll call the bull in – for reassurance.”

At that Cassie the gymnast entered in scrubs. The sleeves were cut off to reveal her biceps. Following her were Pat, topless big breasts bouncing, and Beth also topless with pads covering her nipples. “Sorry, ankara escort Dr Velour,” hands cupped in front of her breasts, Beth apologized, “I’ve been expressing. I need to sop up the drip.”

I was somewhat surprised to see both ladies enter in yellow shorts and slippers, displaying their breasts, Beth boldly, Pat looking around nervously gauging our reaction.

“Let’s start with Pat,” Dr Velour began, “But first I begin with an explanation, not an apology. There are no apologies in medicine we’re always right.” Dr Velour looked from face to face. Her remarks drew some giggling and a few chuckles.

“In our last session, we had Amy Warbler get dressed in order to come down here to strip behind the privacy screen. The purpose of requiring a patient to disrobe is control. Beth,” Dr Velour called on the surrogate, “could you explain how our heifers enter to express milk?”

“It’s an assembly line. Heifers report, disrobe,” Beth outlined the procedure, “shower, line up for examination, handed a pair of yellow shorts and slippers, assigned a booth for milking.”

“Human breasts are a secondary sex characteristic, not a sexual organ,” Dr Velour lectured, “They are designed for two purposes: to attract a mate and to produce milk for the sustenance of an infant.”

Velour called Pat to center stage, “Lets start. The areola, the ring around the mammary papilla, the nipple,” Dr Velour ran the pad of her index finger around Pat’s areola, “of a blond, like Pat, is usually a subdued off – white.” Dr Velour looked to Beth. “Under those pads, a brunette, or any other dark – haired woman like Beth should have darker, more prominent areolas.”

Beth looked with a smirk on while Pat turned her head away as Dr Velour’s hands massaged Pat’s breasts. “The Female Breasts,” Dr Velour taught, “infused with network of nerves, spread out widely, are extremely sensitive to physical contact.” Placing her hands under Pat’s breasts as if weighing them in the palm of her hands, Dr Velour asked whether Pat suffered any neck or back pain from the weight of her breasts.

Rolling Pat’s nipples between thumb and index fingers, Dr Velour lectured, “In bringing down the milk, the heifers in the experimental program start with manual manipulation of the nipples. Unlike milking a cow, by simply squeezing the bossie’s teat from the top to the bottom, manual manipulation of human breasts must take a subtle, gentler form of palpating or massaging the nipples to simulate suckling an infant.”

Ordered to drop to the ground, Pat presented on all fours. Dr Velour squatted in front of Pat, “Taking the nipples between thumb and index finger,” Dr Velour discoursed, “gently tug one then the other. The subject will after she gets used to the position become quite stimulated.” Rising and assisting Pat to her feet. “Try this at home with your partner, but there is another way.”

Turning to Beth, Dr Velour called for comments. “Sometimes, direct oral stimulation, properly done, mouth covering the tit,” Beth explained, “will be more effective in bringing down the milk.”

“More efficacious as well as more affectionate,” Dr Velour smiled before she invited Beth to demonstrate. “Beth, you have the most experience,” Dr Velour urged Beth on, “show us how direct oral stimulation is done.”

Supporting Pat’s breasts with the palm of her hand, Beth, with a smile, jiggled Pat’s breasts. “Nice jugs,” Beth smiled. Beth locked eyes with Pat. Pat’s hands tentatively reached out to clutch Beth’s shoulders.

As Beth craned her head to lick Pat’s left nipple, Pat placed her right hand on Beth’s head to hold Pat close. Beth slobbered her tongue around Beth’s left nipple. Capturing Pat’s nipple in the mouth, Beth started suckling.

Turning to Cassie and me, Dr Velour orated as if she were lecturing a theatre full of students, “Suckling creates a vacuum instrumental in bringing down milk. The breast pumps employed in the clinic operate on the same principal. The pump captures the whole nipple and creates a vacuum replicating a mouth suckling.” With a smile, Dr Velour exclaimed, “The body is a marvelous machine!”

In front of us, the suckling became louder and more intense as Pat’s left hand reached around Beth to clutch Beth in a hug. Beth’s hands falling on Pat’s hips, yanked Pat’s yellow shorts off. The shorts fell to the floor, Pat kicked them off. The two tumbled to the platform of the stage.

“Breast feeding is a pleasurable experience,” Dr Velour observed, “pre – natal or pre – adoptive practice can reinforce the pair bond which many believe essential to child rearing. The human body is a well oiled machine. Unfortunately, there is no turn – off switch,” Dr Velour chuckled. “We can allow these two go orgasmic for the moment.”

With the sound of an impending orgasm echoing in the background, Dr Velour turned from Cassie to me. “One of our bulls has expressed concern over his wife,” Dr Velour explained the problem I had raised, “After his wife came on a couple’s sincan escort bayan day, she decided to join our programme as a Heifer to stimulate her breasts to induce lactation.”

Cassie chirped, “She wants to be a Moo – Cow and he’s worried. I don’t believe it”

“That’s the problem,” Dr Velour observed. “It is possible that the husband might fear his role as the center of attention in the relationship is endangered by competition from his wife. Amy, do you have any suggestions?”

My attention was riveted on the tussling in the background. I watched Beth’s lips slip away from suckling Pat’s left breast, planting kisses down Pat’s abdomen with a smack. When Beth reached Pat’s mound, I heard Pat emit giggling sighs of delight. Pat’s legs wrapped around Beth’s neck; sucking sounds became louder as the grasp of Pat’s legs drew Beth in deeper.

Prompted by Dr Velour to advance a solution for the bull’s problem, I saw the answer in the scene unfolding before me. Still watching Beth and Pat in the throes of orgasm, I proposed, “Meet the couples together. Allow the bull to suckle the heifer – suggesting scientific standards require observation for monitoring the technique.” Looking at Beth and Patty locked in an embrace on the floor, I added, “that way both will share center stage.”

“Hmm.” Dr Velour opined, “just let their bodies’ wiring take over.”

In front of us, Beth and Pat shook with successive waves of orgasm. Transfixed by the spectacle on stage, I, sandwiched between the firm body of Dr Velour and muscle – bound Cassie, felt overheated. “Stimulating, isn’t it?’ Dr Velour threw an arm over my shoulder to whisper in my ear.

“If I were still in school,” Looking toward Dr Velour with a sheepish smile, “I’d skip school this afternoon, find Jerry and fuck myself blind.”

Cassie laughed. Dr Velour with an enigmatic half – smile changed my assignment for the day to shower girl in the heifers’ shower. “Keep you away from temptation. As you know I have an exclusive on all the Bull’s spermatic secretions.”

The rest of the day passed routinely for a fertility clinic. I spent the afternoon as towel girl in the heifer’s section. At the end of the workday, I was approached by Dr Velour to share a spigot in the employee’s shower. Asked for my reaction to working with women, I reflected, “Different things are dangled in your face; the saucy comments and suggestions are subtler; the objective is the same: a cheap jives rather than cheap thrill, but no requests for nipple stimulation, manipulation, suckling, or massages.”

“How disappointing!” Dr Velour sounded sympathetic. Turning, Dr Velour requested I soap her back. Starting with her shoulders I spread the foamy liquid on her shoulders, massaging her neck, lathering her arm pits when she spread her arms out. Holding her head back to look up at the ceiling, Dr Velour opened her mouth and held out her tongue to catch the gentle beads of water falling on her when I passed the sudsy froth along the sides of her breasts.

As I rubbed the bubbly mass down her spine, Dr Velour, eyes shuttered, demanded, “lower, lower, work out the kinks of a long day.” The droplets of soap sparkled as I applied the creamy solution and kneaded the firm, muscular half – moons of her butt.

I looked around. Everyone had left me with Dr Velour alone.

Splaying her legs and bending over, Dr Velour, exceptionally agile, reached for the floor with her hands. Presenting her crack invited an intimate massage. I had seconds to think of a diplomatic solution to keep contact impersonal. I leaned into Dr Velour teasing her back with my nipples and excused myself for a second in an apologetic tone, “I need to leave you for a second to reach for surgical gloves. Don’t go away.”

Dr Velour muttered with an undertone of disappointment, “If you must.”

Locating surgical gloves, I stepped into the Shower girl’s bottoms. Topless, I reasoned, ought to be enough stimulation. Returning to Dr Velour, I first squeezed the bubbles out of a washcloth between those firm half – moons. Then I worked the effervescent fluid into her crack, massaging her sphincter with the pad of my thumb, entering her warm vagina with my index, middle and fore fingers.

She moaned as her orgasm overtook her. Though I had intended to keep the contact impersonal, the electric charge of her orgasmic contractions jumped from her body to mine. A flush branched out from the cheeks of my face to my chest. My nipples went erect. I started to laugh at myself for donning bikini bottoms. I felt the urge to rip them off and rub my vagina into her muscular legs. I leaned into her back. We swayed together as the ripples of orgasm shot through our bodies.

Suddenly, with a jerk, Dr Velour pushed me off and stood on her feet. Casting a scurrilous glance at the bikini bottoms clinging to my ankles, Dr Velour cautioned me, “Kick those things off before you trip.”

Hands on her hips, Dr Velour congratulated me, “Not bad! Remind me to give your class some lessons in massage.” Staring through me dispassionately, she observed, “It may come in handy.” Looking around the empty room, Dr Velour told me to rinse off. “The night crew will be reporting in soon to service the bulls who come in for a shower after work.”

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