The clinic
The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over the too-white walls of the Fertility Solutions Clinic.
My fingers tap an uneven rhythm against the cold, plastic armrest of the waiting room chair, the sound swallowed by the quiet rotations of the fan.
The receptionist, a woman with a tight bun and tighter smile, slides a clipboard across the counter toward me.
"Sign here, here, and initial at the bottom."
I flip through the pages, the legal jargon blurring into an ink-on-the-page smear.
Non-disclosure agreement.
Waiver of liability.
Consent to experimental procedures.
My pen hovers over the last line.
I understand the methods used may be unconventional.
Unconventional?
I've been trying everything for two years. Two years of negative tests, of my husband's increasingly strained smiles, of my own body betraying me month after month. I'm out of options.
The pen scratches against paper. My signature loops too wide, betraying the tremor in my hand.
Dr Langley's office smells like antiseptic.
He doesn't look up from his tablet when I enter, just gestures to the chair across from his desk. His fingers are long, precise, the kind that could thread a needle in the dark.
"Mrs Carter. You understand the terms?"
I nod, my throat too tight to speak.
"Good."
He finally meets my eyes.
His are the colour of weak tea, unreadable.
"Our success rate is 98% in three sessions. You'll be our only patient today. The procedure room is ready."
He stands, smoothing his lab coat.
"Follow me."
The hallways are narrow, the floors squeaking under my flats.
My pulse thrums in my wrists, my temples.
The air is thick with the scent of something primal, musky, beneath the chemical cleanliness.
Yet my pussy is dry, as we stop outside a door marked Procedure Room 3.
Dr Langley swipes his card. The lock clicks.
"Undress. You'll find a gown on the table."
The door shuts behind me with a finality that makes my stomach drop.
The gown is paper-thin, the kind that gaps at the back no matter how you tie it. I fold my jeans, my underwear, into a neat square on the chair, then perch on the edge of the examination table.
The vinyl is cold against my bare ass. My fingers dig into the fabric, nails biting crescents into my palms.
A knock. Not Dr Langley.
Three men file in, each of them broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, dressed in loose scrubs that do nothing to hide the heavy sway of what's between their legs.
The first one—tallest, with a scar cutting through his eyebrow—shuts the door. The second, his arms corded with veins, leans against the counter, crossing his ankles. The third, younger, his beard still patchy, drags a stool to the foot of the table and sits, spreading his thighs.
No one speaks.
My breath comes too fast. The gown rides up, exposing my knees, the dark curl of hair between my thighs.
I don't move to cover myself.
The youngest one exhales through his nose, a low, appreciative sound.
"Damn."
The one with the scar—Malik, a nameplate on his scrub top reads—steps forward. His fingers are thick as he lifts my wrist, pressing two fingers to the inside. His touch is warm.
"Pulse is fast." His voice is uncommitted.
"You nervous, sweetheart?"
I swallow.
"I—I don't know what to expect."
His thumb traces the vein in my wrist, slow, deliberate.
"You'll know soon enough."
He drops my hand, then reaches for the hem of my gown.
"Arms up."
I obey.
The gown pools around my waist. My nipples tighten under their gazes, the air conditioning raising goosebumps across my bare skin.
Malik's fingers skim my collarbone, my sternum, then lower, brushing the underside of my breast.
"Nice." His palm cups the weight, squeezes just enough to make me gasp. "Real nice."
The one by the counter—Darius, his nameplate says—pushes off the wall. His cock is already half-hard, the outline a bulge against his scrubs.
"Let's see that pretty cunt, then."
My thighs press together instinctively.
Malik chuckles, low and dark.
"Uh-uh."
He hooks his fingers behind my knees, yanking them apart. The cool air hits my wetness, my lips already swollen with anticipation.
"Fuck. Look at that."
His thumb drags through my folds, collecting the slickness.
"You're dripping, baby. And we ain't even started."
Darius steps closer, his shadow falling over me. His hand replaces Malik's, two fingers pressing into me without warning.
I jerk, a broken sound escaping my throat.
"Tight."
Darius curls his fingers, knuckles grinding against my inner walls.
"Gonna stretch you good."
The youngest—Jamal—leans forward, his breath hot on my thigh.
"Smells sweet."
His tongue flicks out, tracing the inside of my knee, then higher, higher—
"Wait—!"
Too late. His mouth seals over my pussy, lips parting, tongue spearing into me. My back arches off the table, a cry tearing from my throat.
His fingers dig into my ass, holding me still as he eats, sloppy and slick, his beard scraping my sensitive skin.
Darius's fingers don't stop, pumping in and out, stretching me around his knuckles.
"Fuck, look at her." Malik's voice is a growl.
"Already squirming like a slut."
I am. I'm a mess, my hips bucking, my hands fisting in the gown.
Jamal's tongue swirls around my clit, then flicks it, hard, once, twice—
"Oh god—!"
Darius pinches my nipple, twisting just shy of pain.
"You come when we say you come."
Jamal pulls back, my juices glistening on his chin.
"She close."
"Then back the fuck up."
Malik grabs my hips, flipping me onto my stomach before I can process the movement. The table is narrow; my ass hangs off the edge, my feet barely touching the floor. His palm cracks against my cheek, the sting radiating outward.
"Arch that back. Show us that pretty hole."
I whimper, but I do it, pushing up onto my elbows, sticking my ass out. The position spreads me open, my pussy glistening, my asshole fluttering.
Darius's fingers are back, this time slick with lube. He doesn't ask.
One thick digit presses against my back entrance, then pushes in, slow, relentless.
"Gonna take all three of us, baby. You ready for that?"
I shake my head, but my body betrays me, my hips rocking back, trying to take more.
Malik's laugh is a dark chuckle.
"Liar."
The first cock is Malik's.
He strips off his scrubs, his dick springing free, thick and veined, the head already weeping. My breath stutters. It's too big. The thought is distant, drowned out by the throb between my legs.
Darius's finger is still in my ass, scissoring now, stretching me. Jamal's mouth is on my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse point.
"You want this, don't you?" Malik's voice is a rough purr.
"Want us to fill you up, knock you up proper?"
"Yes." The word is a whine. "Please."
He doesn't make me beg again.
His hands grip my hips, his thumbs digging into the dimples above my ass. The head of his cock notches at my entrance, then pushes.
I cry out as he breaches me, my walls clinging to the intrusion.
He's huge, stretching me wider than I've ever been, the ache edging into pleasure as he sinks deeper, deeper—
"Fuck!" My nails scrape the table. "It's too much—"
"Nah." Darius's free hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back.
"You can take it."
His finger in my ass crooks, pressing against something that makes my vision white out.
"Look at you. Taking that big dick like a good girl."
Malik bottoms out, his balls slapping against my clit.
"Damn. Tight as fuck."
He pulls back, then slams home, the impact driving the air from my lungs.
"Gonna breed this pretty cunt till you get seeded, good and proper."
His strokes are punishing, each thrust shoving me forward, Darius's finger in my ass anchoring me. Jamal's hand slips between my legs, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles.
"Come on, baby." Malik's voice is a growl.
"Milk this cock. Show us how bad you want it."
I do.
My orgasm crashes over me, my pussy clamping down around Malik's thickness, my ass clenching around Darius's finger.
My scream is raw, animalistic, my body shaking with the force of it.
"Oohh! Aahh!"
Malik groans, his hips stuttering.
"Fuck—"
His cock pulses inside me, hot ropes of cum flooding my cunt.
I can feel it, thick and heavy, coating my walls.
"There you go. Take that breeding seed."
He pulls out slowly, his cum dripping from my stretched lips. My legs tremble, my vision swimming.
Darius doesn't give me time to recover.
"My turn." His voice is a dark promise.
Darius is thicker than Malik, his cock a monster, the head a ramming weapon.
My pussy is a tad sore, over-sensitive, but the sight of him stroking himself makes my mouth water.
"On your back."
Jamal helps me flip, then drags me to the edge of the table, my ass hanging off. Darius steps between my thighs, his cock nudging my entrance.
"Wait—" I'm still dripping Malik's cum, my inner thighs slick with it.
"I—I can't—"
"You can."
Darius's hands slide under my knees, lifting my legs, folding me nearly in half. The position opens me obscenely, my pussy gaping.
"Look at that. Already full of cum."
His thumb swipes through the mess, then presses against my clit.
"Gonna add mine to the mix."
He pushes in.
I scream. He's too big, stretching me to the point of pain, my walls struggling to accommodate him.
But the tingle is good, so good, my nails raking down his arms as he sinks deeper.
"Fuck, you're tight." His voice is strained.
"Even with his cum lubing you up."
Jamal's mouth is on my nipple, biting down as Darius bottoms out, his balls pressing against my ass.
"Gonna, fuck you till you're full of little swimmers, baby!"
His hips roll, his cock dragging against every sensitive inch inside me.
"Till you're dripping with big boy seed. Womb deep, girl."
His thrusts are deep, measured, each one hitting my G-spot.
My pussy flutters around him, my orgasm building again, relentless.
"Come for me." His command is a growl. "Now."
I detonate. Internal pyrotechnics. A mother fucker of a gasm.
My back arches, my pussy corsets around his cock as surge after surge of pleasure wracks my body.
Darius groans, his hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt, his cum joining Malik's inside me.
"Good girl."
His voice is rough, approving. He pulls out slowly, his cum leaking from my well-used cunt.
I'm boneless, my chest heaving, my skin slick with sweat.
Jamal's cock is already in his hand, stroking slow, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Last one, baby."
His voice is softer than the others', but no less demanding.
"Gonna fill you up proper. Jizz to circle in your belly."
Jamal takes me from behind, bending me over the table, my cheek pressed against the cool vinyl. His cock isn't as thick as Darius's, but it's long, the tip pressing against my cervix with every thrust.
"You feel that?"
His hands grip my hips, his thumbs digging into the flesh.
"Feel how deep I am?"
"Yes—" My voice is a whine. "Oohh, yes, oohh, yes, don't stop—"
"Not gonna."
His strokes are fast, relentless, his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust.
"Gonna breed you so good. Gonna make sure it takes. Our little fuckers are hunting your egg."
His fingers find my asshole, pressing against the puckered entrance.
"One day, we'll take you here too. Fill all your holes up."
The thought sends me over the edge.
My climax rips through me, my pussy gripping around his cock, my ass clenching around nothing.
Jamal groans, his hips stuttering as he comes, his cum adding to the surfeit of man-glue inside and dripping out of me.
"There you go." His voice is a rough murmur. "Take it all, baby."
He pulls out, his cum dripping down my thighs.
My legs give out, but his arms catch me, lifting me, settling me onto the table.
My pussy aches, stuffed full of their seed, my skin sticky with sweat and cum.
The dudes raise my legs.
"Stay like this for a while. Let it soak in."
Darius's hand cups my breast, his thumb brushing my nipple.
"We'll see you next month. If it don't take this time."
Jamal's lips press to my forehead.
"It'll take."
The walk to the subway is a blur. My thighs stick together with every step, the sensation a constant reminder of what just happened.
My phone buzzes in my bag—my husband, checking in.
How'd it go?
I offer: We'll know soon enough.
What technique?
I offer: Injection.
The train rumbles into the station.
I step on, finding a seat by the window.
My local GP, the following week, tells me;
"Girl, I hope you're ready."
"Is it twins?"
"Sister, you havin' triplets."