Allison fidgeted nervously in her seat as her eyes roamed over the small meeting room in a vain effort to distract herself. There was not much to see in the otherwise vacant room, spare some wall posters describing the life cycle of the Apocrytans in graphic detail. She did her best to divert her eyes from the surprisingly explicit illustrations. She really didn't need to be reminded of how bad of an idea this was. After a short wait, the door opened, rescuing the nervous girl from herself.
"Allison, right? I'm Dr. Barr. I'll be your attending physician and councilor through the entire process. How are you feeling?"
She stood to shake the man's hand, praying that he wouldn't notice how shaky she was. He greeted her warmly, a comforting smile splitting his aged face. He was probably rather handsome a few decades ago, his fading physique indicating a life of rigorous exercise. Unlike most men these days, he allowed his hairline to follow its natural path, leaving his thick white hair in possession of only about half of his scalp.
"Alright, I guess. Kinda nervous."
"Almost all volunteers are. Honestly, it's the ones that aren't that we have to be careful with. Sometimes, I feel like we're being used more as an exotic brothel than breeding center. Anyway, before we move on, I am going to need you to look over some forms and confirm their information."
His fingers touched down on the table, an enormous block of text growing on the table's surface. With a flick, he sent it her way. She glanced down the first page, checking over her basic information. Her name was still Allison Blye, she was, in fact, 5'8" and 122 pounds. Her eyes glazed over as she read without really reading, her mind refusing to acknowledge a task so dull. She dimly wondered why this kind of thing was even required in an age of instant medical examinations and autobiographical chips. She did find some passing amusement in reading through the empty check boxes for various diseases she was suddenly glad she did not have. She had no idea what "Transmissible Necrotizing Hemophilia" was, but she also did not particularly want to. The name probably told her enough as it was. She signed illegibly at the bottom of the form, still uncertain as to how anyone could write neatly with a fingertip. In an instant, the form disappeared from view.
"Excellent. In a moment, I will bring in the couple you've been assigned to. This is your last chance to back out. They have been prepared for that eventuality and no one will think less of you. Of course, your record shall remain sealed here. No one will know that you came here or that you left. This is your decision."
She though for a long moment, surprised that she was being offered the chance to back out this late in the game. She really did not have to do this. In all reality, she was only here because it was the easiest way to pay for college. In a way, it was reminiscent of the way men would sell sperm in ages past, except both the pay and what was expected of her was much, much higher.
Of course she would never admit it, but there was also a considerable part of her that was just curious about what it would feel like. In the days immediately after the war, before surrogate breeding was formalized and protected by inter-species law, deviants and perverts the world over flocked to seedy clinics to have their previously impossible fetish realized. Even today, many women and even some men would volunteer repeatedly just for the perverse pleasure.
More than anything else, however, she considered the parent couple's perspective. Their species was well and truly hamstrung by law, unable to breed without a permit and triplicate consent forms from every related party. Allison was still too young to think about a family of her own, but the idea of being legally barred from having children rankled. There were vastly more parent couples than surrogate breeders, so it would likely be years before the couple could find another compatible vessel if she quit now.
"Send them in."
The doctor smiled approvingly at her as he stood to leave.
"I'll give you guys some time alone to discuss how you want to do it. When you've decided, come by my office so we can make arrangements."
He left before she could respond, leaving her alone once again as the door closed behind him. She was going to do it. Her stomach flipped in something between excitement and anxiety. She wanted this more than she let herself realize. With a few taps on the table, she turned the matte black surface to a mirror, taking a moment to groom and inspect herself before the meeting.
Straight red hair fell slightly past her shoulders, left to hang freely. Her face was more cute than beautiful, lending her an appearance a few years younger than her actual age. A light dusting of freckles covered her pale skin. She smoothed out her blouse, re-arranging her modest bust to sit it more prominently in the low cut of her neck line. For reasons no one could explain, the aliens had a particular fondness for breasts. She tightened her belt a little, hoping to emphasize her generous hips and toned waist. Collegiate sports treated her well. She was about to turn to inspect her generous ass before she heard a knock on the significantly larger door. She hurriedly returned the table to its normal setting before bidding them enter.
It was Allison's first time seeing a Apocrytan in person. The first was enormous, over seven feet tall and almost half as long. It walked on four chitinous legs extending from a sizable abdomen, reminiscent of Earth's praying mantis. From its abdomen rose an almost-humanoid torso, bedecked in the same mottled brown chitin as the rest of its body. Searching her memories, she recalled that the bland coloration indicated that this particular alien was the female.
She had enormous hips, a signature trait of the species and common to both sexes. Her stomach was also surprisingly human, save for the thick, articulated plating covering it. A pair of spindly arms came out of her narrow shoulders, ending in a three-fingered claw. Long, sharp hairs protruded at acute angles from her forearms, vibration-based sensory organs whose usefulness disappeared almost completely once their species developed agriculture. Her head was large, at least compared to her long but unnaturally thin torso. It was wide and angular, vaguely reminiscent of a wasp's, save the multitude of small, glittering eyes.
Her most striking feature, however, were her breasts. Her kind did not nurse their young and as such did not normally possess mammaries. She, like increasingly many females since the end of the war, elected to have cosmetic surgery. Their species had relatively little gender dimorphism and a bizarre fondness for breasts, so the trend was not entirely unexpected. Hers were huge and firm, far too large to fit within Allison's hands. Something about their sleek, scaled skin and lack of nipples made them much more attractive to Allison than any human's.
The male came through the door a second later, nearly identical save for his vibrant black and yellow coloration and lack of artificial breasts. The gentle natural swell of his chest and wide hips gave his torso what would have been an attractively androgynous appearance, had he been human. He spoke in heavily accented but surprisingly clear, if excessively formal English.
"I am told you are called Allison. You do not possess the organ to speak my name, so you may call me George. This one is my mate, whom you may call Dianne. Her proficiency with your tongue is inferior to mine, so I shall speak for the both of us. I would first thank you for your hearing our petition."
Apparently, the Interspecies Exchange needed to find English teachers from this millennium. Regardless, hearing him speak did wonders to calm her nerves. Having been a child during the war, she had a difficult time seeing his kind as anything but faceless rape and murder machines out of a Heinlein novel Even just putting a voice and a face to the nameless horror in her mind was a great help.
They spoke at length, mostly discussing the details of their arrangement. To her surprise, George seemed more nervous than she. As the conversation continued, she came to find that the penalties for harming a surrogate were rather stiff. This, combined with the rather litigious tendencies of some humans, lead to a general distrust and fear of the system. Before long, she found herself the one reassuring him, promising her good intention. Any remaining fear she had faded as she came to understand her role in the process and the couple's genuine concern for her well-being. It didn't hurt to know that he had a vested interest; her health directly influenced their clutch's.
After a few hours of discussion, their plans were formalized. In a day's time, they would meet again at the clinic to do the deed. She was discharged with a small horde of antibiotics and anti-rejection drugs to smooth the process and lower the risk of infection. She had also been given an enema kit and a strong suggestion to make sure that she was clean and to watch what she ate for a while. All of the precautions started to make her a little nervous, but it was not until she was handed a doughnut-shaped foam seat cushion that she began to question her decision. She made quickly for the door before anyone started taking her measurements for a full-body cast.
Allison fell into her bed, emotionally and physically drained. Enemas were more work than she anticipated, particularly if one accidentally starts taking her prescribed muscle relaxants a day early. Then again, everything is pretty difficult when you cannot really feel or move your limbs. With the last of her fading enthusiasm, she placed a call to the local taxi service to schedule a ride to the clinic tomorrow. There was no way she was making it there by herself.
