After a quick physical check she told him to take a shower and then took him to her office to fill out the necessary papers.
She was wearing a pair of exquisite pantyhose under her white lab-coat. He could not stop glancing at those smooth and lean calves. Dr. Watanabe wasn't the prettiest woman he had seen, but there was a certain naughtiness in the way she played with the black pen that made him wonder what else was that pair of nimble hands capable of.
Plus he hadn't masturbated for an entire week and was actively imagining the half-Asian in various lewd poses--
"So, Noah. You just graduated from high school, you have played some sports while in school, and this is your first real job. Okay. I see you're not lying there, judging by your biceps!"
Noah gave a slight nod. She had that particular deep and warm voice that made him want to kiss her feet.
Then, to his surprise the conversation took a sharp turn.
"And how's your sex life? Are you experienced with any girl before?"
He was struck by her nonchalant attitude about this topic; in a slightly panicked reply he lied and said yes. He wasn't sure if she caught it, and if so she led nothing slip under her professional-polite smile.
"Great to hear! That saves work for me. I hope you remembered to take the pill, because you won't be getting through today's interview without it. Are you feeling any discomfort so far?"
Another lie--his balls were so heavy with sperms that he could unload the mess all over her shapely legs right now, but he could not tell her that.
"Yes, unfortunately the loss of sleep can be one of the drug's side-effects, but your body will adopt to its newfound energy in a short time."
After a short pause she asked another question, this time in a more hushed voice.
"One last thing. I trust that you have followed my instruction about not touching yourself? Noah--you can be honest with me if you couldn't control it, and I'll adjust your workload accordingly."
There seemed to be genuine concern in her question.
This time he did say the truth, and Dr. Watanabe was even more delighted at his answer. He followed her out of the small office, his eyes busy following her hip-sway.
"By the way, we will always address our providers as Ladies. I will start using the term so you can get used to it."
As they traversed through the gigantic facility's many corridors he felt like a lab rat in a sterilized maze.
They had arrived shortly. She swiped her access ID.
"And don't ever call them 'cows'--I'll murder you if I catch you saying it!"
It was meant as a joke, but the doctor was otherwise dead serious.
--
The 'breeding pod' positively resembled a post-modernist yoga room. It had a shape of a perfect circle. Some abstract modernist paintings decorated the circular wall. A round carpet of concentric orange and red circles laid on the center ground. The interior was large and well-lit, set at an optimal warmth and humidity. The ventilator quietly hummed overhead. There was no window.
The Ladies had been waiting. Of course they wore nothing except for a pair of short white socks. Along the wall they crouched on all fours close to each other, facing down at the floor, while their plump buttocks meekly pointed towards the center of the room. Eye masks and earplugs obscured their senses. Hypnotized and enjoying the silence.
And of course they were all Caucasian with the kind of short blonde hairstyle that was the nationwide symbol of every suburban soccer-mom-housewife. No typical middle-age overweight and other degradation among these fine specimens; they were all in shape, with tight waists and lustrous skin. Their lovely tits--gravity-pulled low-hanging-fruits--now jiggled sideways as the women occasionally stretched and relaxed from their titillating pose.
He counted fifty of them in the room: fifty white cows waiting to be bred by his enormous African-American manhood...
Noah was savoring this magical scene straight-out-of-a-porn-fantasy when the doctor snapped her fingers at him.
"As you probably noticed, today you will be solely responsible for our Ladies over 35. As natural conception becomes difficult at this stage, youthful virile seeds from young men like you are our best hope."
She really said these words without flinching a bit.
"You don't need to interact with the Ladies when coupling with them. They had been conditioned to focus on their own bodily needs and ignore other distractions."
She pointed at their thick eye masks and the earbuds.
"But before any of that, let's get your clothes off first. I know you are turned on right now. Come on, show me what you've got."
He began to undress until only his white boxer was left. Then he stoped, hesitated at the thought of exposing himself completely in front of this unknown woman, though the shape of his hard-on was already well sketched out in its entirety.
Dr. Watanabe smiled at his typical teenage self-consciousness and decided to help him herself. She bent down in front of him. He could see her well-formed breasts. No bras.
With both hands she began pulling down his boxer. Released from its constraint, his dark and abundant manhood almost leaped out and hit her nose. He heard her chuckle; the doctor pulled it aside from her face, not embarrassed by his urge at all. Instead she put on a pair of blue medical gloves and squeezed some transparent lube from a nearby container.
"May I?"
The request was rhetorical: she didn't wait for his reply before laying her rubbered hands on him. Not the first time she lubricated a male genitalia--the cool and slippery liquid was applied evenly. Her warm hands against the rubber quickly brought him towards the edge.
"You have a very nice penis."
Her praise was the last straw. His brows tightened; Dr. Watanabe had been paying close attention and was in control.
"Just a moment," one of her hands moved down to hold his pulsing ball sack while the other began to slowly stroke the anointed black monolith, each time harder than the one before. Her thumb squeezed on the head in a circular motion. He felt her sharp painted nails.
"Hold it."
"We're almost there--"
He felt like he was about to explode. Just one stroke away. Waiting, waiting for her words.
"Now! Let it come out."