Fertility Clinic Pt 02

Ch 2 Only A Game

"Somehow," my husband Jerry teased me as I rolled away from him to get out of bed at 3AM, "it's appropriate that you begin your internship in a fertility clinic on Valentine's Day. Care to sneak me in there to try out my equipment?"

Bare body, freed from the covers, meeting the cold winter air, I might have liked to have allowed Jerry's strong hands to pull me back into bed, but I couldn't be late on my first day. "You needn't worry about your desirability as a sperm donor. You need to worry about your jealous sperm donee."

I smirked. Much as we could use extra money to buy the house, Jerry enjoyed spontaneity in bed. So, did I. Could he submit to the clinic's rules? To be admitted to the program, male Donors were locked down in a "cock block," a chastity device between donations. During my interview, Dr Velour's dark eyes penetrated my bare body when she told me, "It maximizes the yield."

I shook off Jerry's hands to start marching for the shower, dismissing his attentions with the remark, "You already got your Valentine."

Laughing, Jerry called after me, "if you have to shower before starting work, why do you need to shower off before you go?"

"Because sometime in the middle of the night I found myself on my belly, naked, bucking up to you to draw you in deeper," I teased him. "I don't remember exactly how it started .."

My voice trailed off as I turned to throw him a devilish smile.

I had been in a state between sleep and consciousness when Jerry tugged at the elastic of my panties. In my zombie -- like state, I lifted my butt for him to pull them off and like an automaton mechanically rolled on my hip to kneel and hold my hands up. I felt a delightful tingle as Jerry lifted his T shirt over my head.

"You had your fun," I teased Jerry, "but now it's morning and you need to respect me while I shower you off." I gritted my teeth; my voice betrayed my uneasiness, "It's not like I'm looking forward to starting this internship, but it's paid and I get a check ..."

"There's a check?" Jerry replied, "The work may be grimy -- cleaning a fertility clinic -- but the money will be clean. And since you shower entering and leaving the clinic, the dirt will be Rub -- A -- Dub -- Dub-ed away."

I sighed. "I had to sign confidentiality agreements, promising not to talk about my work or the people I meet, to wear only the clothing issued by the facility on duty, to be submit to physical inspection of my person, to consent to physical contact with persons of the same or opposite sex if required, to be a subject of psychological testing and experimentation." I paused to exhale.

"You're dressed to turn a trick," Jerry baited me, "but you don't intend to put out."

Playfully slapping Jerry, I revealed my reservations. "Dr Velour, the owner of the facility, is a little weird. I think she enjoys conversing with nude women. When I was hired, she conducted my interview as part of my physical exam, no hospital gown. After a tour of the facility, I was left naked during a briefing on her expectations. I gulped before I exclaimed, "Why need I worry about getting through the first day?"

"Get through it the way I would get through a short arm exam when I was in the Corps," Jerry advised, "make a game of it."

"A game?" I said as I strode, deliberately swinging my hips to tease Jerry, toward the shower.

When I arrived at the Western Avenue Fertility Clinic to begin my first shift at 4:30 AM, I was surprised to find the oversized closet that housed the locker room already abuzz. Although I, forewarned that I must undress and shower to enter the facility, had my auburn hair cut short, I was unprepared for the scene of women packed into the right side of the locker room. I was barely able to hear the security officer's directions over the din of high -- pitched voices cackling. The dozen or so women, mostly 40ish or older, crammed in together, were busy undressing and stowing their clothes in lockers on their side of the room.

Eek! I almost freaked out. I was a college intern in a fertility clinic. These women, paunches hanging, most of them twice my age, wouldn't their appearance discourage nubile young women from inseminating themselves? The ladies faced their lockers chatting among themselves oblivious to the naked men, on the other side of the room idly standing by. Game, I sighed, the game calls.

Pushing my way through the bodies packed together, I nearly passed out from the bouquet of perfumes rising from half naked bodies before I reached my assigned locker. "The new girl?" asked the bare -- chested lady to my right. "I'm `Rory, short for Aurora and that slut, she's," Rory pointed to the lady on my left who was bending over to remove her panties, "Astra short for Astarte."

Forcing a smile, I tried not to stare at her shaven pubis.

Smiling back at me, Astra explained, "My parents were into mythology. Astarte is the goddess of love. Appropriate for St Valentine's Day?" She paused. "As the daughter of the moon goddess, Astarte was granted the crescent moon for her symbol."

"So," Rory exclaimed, "reporting in this early, you're caught between night and day." When I looked over my shoulder at the naked men, Rory assured me, "Oh, they're not in cock -- blockers but still harmless."

Shaking her head, Astra interjected, "It's the law. We have to live with."

"During my time in school," I replied as I removed my top, "we needed accustom ourselves to undressing in front of drooling guys."

"Ah, equality reigns," Rory sighed, "Allow me," Rory requested permission to unhook my bra, "Gender equality means the employer doesn't have to pay for separate locker rooms for men and women."

"But, we can't fault our employer on that score," Astra interjected as she swept the unhooked bra off my shoulders and flung it in my locker, "You'll see Dr Velour in here, bare to the bone, prancing to the showers before she does her rounds."

"And you can feel her beady black eyes upon you whenever she's around," griped Rory.

"If you can't exclude men from the ladies' locker," I chuckled hobbled on one foot to remove my sneakers, "There is the hope real men might control the occasional perv."

Raising her penciled eyebrows, Rory snickered, "Not to worry. These guys are more embarrassed than we are. We count on them remaining hypnotized by our beauty," she wiggled her body, "while we get ready for the herd to race, like cattle on the trail, for the shower."

"Judging by swollen schlongs," I looked over my shoulder as I planted a hand on Rory's bare shoulder for balance to step out of my dungarees, "I might think not."

"Actually, judging by their bulging eyes, we count on that," Rory snickered. Placing a hand on my bare shoulder, leaning into me to whisper, "We put a show in the shower for the guys. Just play along. It's fun to watch them react. Are you a-game?"

"A -- game! Rub -- A -- Dub -- Dub! Slinging soap in the shower," I nervously quipped, "should be good clean fun."

"Huh!" Rory snorted, "just clean fun. Yeah."

"Hurry, along," urged Astra, standing behind me, "the cleaning uniform, large frock and trousers, is the same for both—eh all sexes. We like to get the pants so that the guys are left in frocks sans culottes."

"Think of it," Rory smiled, "it's the race for the pants in the battle of the sexes."

Then Rory and Astra grabbed each of my arms. Out of the locker stepping onto the cold steel of the catwalk, I felt that same tingle that I felt earlier with Jerry. There's a certain excitement in racing naked stampeding like cattle. Could it be the exaltation of freedom, violating social norms? I wondered.

On the passageway I melded into a herd of bare breasts bobbing and bare bubbly butts bouncing which bolted across the cold steel bridge toward the bright light radiating off the tiles of the shower.

At the entrance to the shower, a tall thin girl named Doulchia in a two -- piece reduced the stampeding cows to a line of contented calves, awaiting assignment to a spigot. "My task," Doulchia rang out an order in singsong as she arranged a line along the railing, "it is decreed, to corral the bare ass, make them pay heed."

Running with the pack had an advantage. I didn't think. I didn't look at the others in the horde. Now, on edge, I nervously looked at the other women. All pubis were hairless.

I restrained myself from shrieking when Rory grabbed my attention by gently rubbing my back. "Good," Rory told me, "you cut your hair short. It dries faster. Consider clipping your muff."

Aghast, I struggled to thank her.

Sorting out the dozens of naked women for use of a few showerheads, Doulchia rang out her rhyme, "The shower managed skillfully // for maximum efficiency // in planning activity // for rub -- a -- dub -- dub with dignity // three heads fitted // under the same spigot."

As I came up to Doulchia, Rory chided her, "putting your bottom in a thong took away two panels for .."

"I lost two pockets," Doulchia cracked in a lyrical voice, "but I still have the sockets // to stow your deposits."

I looked from Rory to Astra for a clue. "Ugh," Rory grunted, "Nurses and aides get first choice on the best customers anyway."

I was pleased that Doulcia, the tall thin girl in charge of the shower, placed me under a spigot with my locker -- mates, Rory and Astra. Pointing to a spigot, Doulchia intoned, "Rub -- a -- dub -- dub // watch for the hubbub // three for a scrub."

Three of us found ourselves under a spigot. "Hands up," Rory roared an order. Up to the mindless game of splashing around, I mechanically complied. As Rory lathered under my arms down my sides to my butt, she whispered, "We need to move quickly. We're caught between night and day. You have to handle Astra."

Back turned to me, Astra raised her arms. Her shaven armpits had little nubbies where hair follicles had been removed. As I worked down her soft flesh, a sudden tingle up my spine inspired the remark, "electrostatic," I exclaimed, "yet so different from touching a man."

I know what happened even though I can't explain why. My body took charge. I had never intended to have found my fingers roaming from the pillowy underside of her breasts down her stomach to the smooth flesh of her mound. In response, Astra, leaning backwards into my breasts, engaged me.

"Reverse," Rory abruptly ordered. We jumped in unison to about face. Snickering at the men, Rory muttered, "just watch the bouncing boobs."

I tended to Rory as Astra caressed my breasts with a slick soapy fluid. Expanding circular motions probing downward from my nipples brought her fingers across my belly and lower abdomen to my vaginal lips. I moistened the ruby red rim of my mouth with my tongue. I had never been disloyal to Jerry from the time I met him. Why were my own greedy fingers probing Rory's vagina pulling her back into me? Was it just a game? I was close to cumming when Rory ordered, "Enough Rub -- a -- dub -- dub. Show's over. Quick rinse off."

With the sting of a swat on my wet butt, Rory assured me, "It's only a show." Invited to look over at the guys, I laughed. Their eyes transfixed, the guys stood by, schlongs effervescing. "Works all the time," Rory quipped as we passed by the guys to towel off, "Game set and match!"

Claiming the cleaning uniform's pants, Astra chanted, "We get the pants," Astra laughed, "and the guys get the lacy underpants."

Descending the long staircase into the sub -- surface gym, Rory advised, "we usually don't have much in the gym besides spraying disinfectant, wiping down the equipment and mopping the floor."

"Oops," Astra interjected, "not to forget cleaning Dr Velour's office."

As we wiped down the exercise equipment, Astra explained, "we usually don't find anything gross. Guys, whether employees or donors, must wear an athletic supporter in the gym. That should be sufficient to sop up any emissions."

"Laundry," Rory smirked peering into a circular clothing bin and waiving off the stink, "has to deal with any ugh,"—her face contorted—"man goo."

Looking toward the pool with a look of disgust, Rory commented, "The guys swim nude in the pool. Fortunately, the guys in maintenance have to clean the slime over there."

Returning to street level to pass through to clean the treatment rooms, we were required to strip and shower. "You may bemoan // Subject to inspection // at change of zone // More Rub -- a -- dub -- dub // for your protection // crammed into the tub // to prevent infection.."

Standing naked, shivering, arms criss -- crossed over my breasts, I waited with Rory and Astra for assignment to a spigot. Ready to assign us to a spigot, Doulchia, pointing to a spigot, exclaimed, "to scrub, bacteria insidious, a good rub -- a -- dub -- dub, fastidious."

Rory held her palms out as if in question. To the unvoiced inquiry, Doulchia simply shook her head. A brazen look on her face, disbelief creeping into her voice, Rory pleaded, "nothin` on Valentine's Day?" Looking toward me, Doulchia nodded. Rory protested, "She's just got over the shock of a little rub -- a -- dub."

"Damn!" Astra complained, "early bird men, cock unblocked, dangling free, are good tippers."

Doulchia laughed, "Don't huff// some guys get a rush // from a muff // that is plush."

After a quick shower, we donned frocks and thongs to enter the male treatment rooms. The room selected to begin looked like a normal medical treatment room, except Rory explained it had a hitching post, a simple pillar, 5' feet high by 2' feet wide in the center of the tiled floor instead of an examination table. "Fire plug shaped, the device simulates a man crunching a female against the wall. This is the Customer's prime choice of fantasy," Rory commented.

"Each room is equipped with a visor. Unlike the old -- fashioned fertility clinics," Rory explained, "we don't hand out girly pictures. This shield," Rory held the visor, darkened like sunglasses as she wiped it with disinfectant, "draws the guy into the experience. It presents him with a vivid virtual sexual encounter."

"Dr Velour designed the device and scripted the fantasies herself," Astra interjected. "It's set for the introduction."

"When the subject dons the visor, he's drawn into a different reality. His imagination overrides the intellect. The fantasy becomes a reality in his mind. Here try it out," Rory offered it to me. "We'll start cleaning up the room."

As Rory nodded to Astra to begin spritzing the room with disinfectant, I hesitantly held the visor in my hands, undecided whether to put it on.

Turning to me, Astra noted, "It's just like a video game, with the plus that you'll explore Dr Velour's vision, a female spin on a male fantasy."

I looked around the room. A pungent odor of disinfectant rose as Rory began to hum a gentle tune as pushed the mopped across the white tiled floor and Astra wiped down the table and cabinets.

"For the cause of research," I sighed as I tentatively donned the visor holding my hands at its edges ready to flip it off my head. The sounds of chatting passersby in the corridor faded away, along with Rory's sweet singsong and the swoosh of her mop and the pungent odor of an ammonia -- based disinfectant.

Veiled in the shield, I found myself alone in the examining room. On the visor I envisioned Doulchia. Her two -- piece gone, a ghostly counterpart of Doulchia appeared in my vision clad in a starched white nurse's uniform enter the room with a tall carrot red topped naked male subject, thick red hair hung from almost every inch of the subject's body, except his freckled lower abdomen and butt. His schlong hung prominently against a fur free crotch and nuts.

After securing the subject's feet to the floor in front of the post, then, donning gloves, Doulchia's ethereal presence reached into hitching post and pulled out a sleeve and secured the man's schlong. "A guy's imagination won't suffice," The specter of Doulchia's phantom explained, "to reach a level of excitation // requires a device // to provide physical stimulation."

His schlong secured, Doulchia's spiritual presence, locking the red-haired man's arms around the pillar, noted "the pillar is a soft and rubbery // delightful to his touch // a cozy 91 degree, // tempting so much // drawing him into her clutch."

The image in the visor of the subject hitched to the post faded away into swirls of green, yellow and red colors which settled into the apparition of a figure, a man perhaps, in an embrace with a fire-plug shaped pillar. Doulchia's voice as the swirling colors warmed from green to yellow and yellow to red and red to a deep crimson. "Thermographic images dazzle," Doulchia's illusion continued her lecture, "by the intensification // of the subject's arousal // with increasing stimulation."

When the colors dissolved, the subject was gone. In front of me appeared Astra soft pale body bare but for a micro thong damming her love canal. The extra fat disappeared from her belly; her small breasts floated like globules on her chest; her nipples erect. To her right stood Rory, pendulous boobs, nude, her crotch hairless. On her left, were two males one with his genitalia wrapped up in the cock block; the other hanging free.

"But Rory and Astra shouldn't be here," I protested, "They're supposed to be cleaning."

The apparition of Doulchia re-appeared in her nurse's uniform between Rory and Astra on her right and the men on her left. "Your co-workers about their task// Stand in contrast // to your fantasy // here we broadcast// only what you fancy."

"What now?" I asked.

Dulchia's phantasm smiled, "Sing a sweet song // for the pair you select // to entertain // playing ping pong // on the subject's brain."

"Huh?" I was taken by surprise.

The image of Doulchia chanted a clarification, "In your vision // time for a decision // a pair to cuddle // two by two division // your preference for a couple?"

The question hung. I chose Rory and Astra—or the images of them to entertain the Red-haired subject.

Doulchia' doppelganger responded, "Your choice curious // hardly mysterious // ready for a bi -- experience."

In the visor, Rory and Astra moved toward each other lips puckered to kiss. My vision was suddenly cut off. I felt a hand under my frock massaging my back as the visor was lifted. Rory holding a mop and Astra with a bucket told me that it was time to move-on. The room was needed for use a subject. "Unless ..." Astra started, but was cut -- off by Rory, shaking her head, reminded, "She's new. We need to clean the public areas."

Back in the shower, we were rinsing off to Doulche's ditty, "Moving between section // Rub -- A -- dub for prevention // of spreading germs and infections."

Under her breath, Rory, throwing me a glance, grumbled, "Looks like Doulche grew a cup size." Rory, glancing in my direction, silenced Astra, "Ain't worth the risk."

I was standing under the assigned shower head with Astra and Rory when Dr Velour walked in naked from the steel catwalk. Assigned to a spigot, she leaned forward tongue sticking out like a young girl to lap the falling droplets as the spray pelted her taut breasts. She hid cup "D" well under her clothes. Her hands lathered soap along the pleasing curve from her firm breasts to her hips down her shaven mound into her vaginal lips. By comparison to Astra and Rory, Dr Velour, without an ounce of fat on her body, was in tip top shape.

Nudged by Rory, I broke my focus on Dr Velour's body. With a nod, I was moving quietly along with Astra toward retrieving smocks and sneakers when Dr Velour, crunching her eyes, grabbed me. "Amy, get me a towel; ugh soap in the eyes."

Rory looked over her shoulder as she and Astra, hips swing bare rotundas as they retreated from the showers, received the frock and sneakers to begin cleaning the public areas of the building.