Donor X

In a future world, not that distant from our own, overpopulation is no longer an issue... but the survival of the human race is. Eighteen-year-old James Wiseman reports for his first monthly "deposit" and finds out that he is a very special young man.

I normally don't write stories based on others people's ideas, but when Literotica member dimimis1991 proposed this to me, it struck a chord deep within my twisted mind and I could see this story unfold. His idea was a young man whose sperm was so special that he becomes effectively a captive slave. I put it in the future to give context to the story I built around the idea

I will leave it to the reader to judge whether James has ended up in a heavenly or hellish situation.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2017 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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WHO first announced that sperm counts were declining in Western males in 1990 following a fifty-year study. Several more studies followed. Publicly, experts said that there was no need to worry because a sperm count of forty-seven million rather than ninety-nine million was still more than adequate for conception. Privately, however, they were worried... very worried.

It was not until population levels began dropping in 2050 that people worldwide began to take notice. More studies followed. Those results couldn't be kept quiet. Sperm counts worldwide were drastically continuing to decline. So was sperm motility. Even with the help of fertility clinics, many couples were no longer able to conceive a child.

At first everyone blamed environmental factors. Obviously some man-made plastic or poison or genetically-modified grain had to be to blame. But the pattern of disbursement-- the way it spread through the world-- corresponded more to a disease than an environmental factor.

In 2073, Doctor William Rutherford was given the Nobel Prize in medicine for discovering the virus which had now infected all of humanity. In his acceptance speech, he shocked the world by saying that the damage was already done. The Human Genome had been changed by the virus. Humanity was doomed to extinction unless someone could be found who was genetically immune to the virus or was perhaps a slight mutation which had adapted to the virus now embedded in our DNA.

"The fate of the human race," he said sadly, "may be dependent upon a Donor X who can provide resistant sperm to repopulate the planet."

A world-wide draft was instituted, only this draft was not for the armies of the world. Within five days of their eighteenth birthday, every male on the planet had to report to a Supplemental Fertility Facility and deposit sperm. Until the age of fifty, they would then return once a month to again make a deposit.

The primary purpose of the facilities was to accumulate and store sufficient sperm from each male so that once or twice a year it could be used in an attempt to fertilize their mate or some other woman of child-bearing age. The sperm would also be tested in hopes of finding that miraculous "Donor X," but the primary purpose of the facilities was to keep the human race from dying out until Donor X could be found.

So it was that on the twenty-third day in the month of September in the year 2103, James Wiseman, reported to the Brooklyn branch of the New York Supplemental Fertility Facility. It was nothing like his friends had told him it would be. They had delighted in telling him of nurses who weighed your testicles and cut them off if they weren't heavy enough, or doctors that used electric cattle prods shoved up your behind to force you to ejaculate.

Instead, he was handed what looked like an oversize flashlight with a reproduction of a woman's slit on one end. "The blue switch starts the milking massage," the nurse said in an even tone. "The yellow switch adds vibration." She then smiled at him and said, "Only use the red switch if you can't ejaculate within three minutes. It will add electrical stimulation to complete your deposit."

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, James at first considered attempting to get the beautiful nurse's phone number. Then he saw the umbilical which connected her to the desk. She was an R-Clone. Cloning was the first thing the scientists tried when the population began to shrink. Unfortunately, there were unforseen drawbacks. The clones had a relatively short lifespan for some reason. And the genetic patching which corrected that resulted in minimal intelligence. Until a major breakthrough in human cloning occurred, clones could be used only for grunt labor and not much more.

Androids were attempted, but a not unreasonable fear that the thinking machines would overthrow their masters and take over the world prevented widescale use of them. The compromise was R-Clones. They were cloned humans, but with android-like supplemental brains and other features. There was no fear that they would take over the world because they had to remain physically connected to the computer which controlled them. When disconnected from the computer, they reverted to an intelligence level not much above a primate. The need for a direct connection to a super computer greatly limited their use, but they were perfect for jobs such as a receptionist who sat all day at the same desk.

The R-Clone receptionist pointed down the hallway and told James pleasantly, "Just follow the red arrows. Use any deposit unit that is unlocked."

A few minutes in the small closet-like cubicle and James was ready to turn in his deposit. He felt a warm flush on his skin as he handed the device back to the R-Clone. She didn't seem to notice and handed him a small reminder card. "See you next month," she called out as he turned to leave.

Normally, there would be a follow up email in about a week giving the donor their actual sperm count and reminding him that he needed to make a deposit each month. James was very surprised, therefore, to find an email from SFF in his inbox the very next morning. The subject line was "URGENT! Contact us immediately."

He clicked on the email, but it had not yet opened when his cellphone rang. The more-or-less female voice which announced his calls said "Call from Brooklyn Supplemental Fertility Facility."

"This is James," he answered. He wanted to add, "What do you want?" but decided to keep quiet until he knew what was going on.

"This is Doctor Swan," a female voice said, "we need you to return to the facility immediately for a new sample."

"I did everything like I was supposed to," James said defensively.

"Oh, no," the doctor quickly replied, "there was no problem with your procedure, but you fit into one of our... special categories... and we need a slightly larger specimen for analysis and other purposes rather than as a deposit to your account."

"Do I have to?" James asked warily.

"We would prefer you came in voluntarily," Doctor Swan said softly. Then her voice hardened as she continued, "but the Emergency Repopulation Powers Act of 2077 gives us the authority to compel a deposit."

"I'm OK with coming in," he said, trying not to sound angry, "but I had to take time off yesterday to register and make my initial deposit. I don't want to get in trouble at work."

"Don't worry about that," the doctor answered lightly, "we have already spoken with your employer. They will give you all the time you need."

"When do you want me to come in?" he asked with a sigh.

The doctor's voice again became slightly hardened. "There is a car waiting outside your apartment building as we speak," she said firmly. "Just throw on anything and come down to the car."

When James did not reply immediately, she added, "Or would you rather that they came up to your apartment and brought you out however you are currently dressed or undressed?"

"I'm coming!" he yelled back. "I'm coming!"

James had already shut down his phone and was rapidly searching for his shoes so he didn't hear Doctor Swan laugh and say, "Yes, you will, James. Yes, you will."

***

Doctor Swan hadn't mentioned the police cars when she told James that there was a car waiting to take him to the facility. When he stepped out of the apartment building a large, black SUV was idling at the curb in the no parking zone. It was bracketed by four police cars. One in the front, one in the rear, and two in the driving lane

A man in a light blue uniform of some sort met him at the door and hustled him into the car. They took off with sirens blaring and moments later, he was back at the Brooklyn branch of the New York Supplemental Fertility Facility. James was slightly confused when rather than pulling up at the front door, the limo followed its police escort around to the back of the building and into a guarded entrance which led to an underground garage of some sort.

"What is this?" he asked nervously as he was escorted to a large door that reminded him of the watertight hatches he had encountered when his parents had taken the family for a Carribean cruise.

A familiar voice spoke from just inside the door. It was Doctor Swan. "No need to be afraid, James," she said calmly. "This is just an advanced part of our research facility." She raised her arms to gesture down the hallway. "These are special rooms for special guests... such as you."

Something about what she said, or perhaps how she said it, caused James to pause and look around. "What goes on in those rooms?" he asked in a slightly shaky voice. His nervousness was starting to morph into fear.

"Advanced deposit collection," Doctor Swan said firmly, but with a smile, "And we have determined that we get a larger and better sample if the means of collection is more realistic."

"I don't understand," James said, slowly shaking his head.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and then heard a female say, "Perhaps I can explain it better."

When he turned, a young, petite, woman in a lab coat was standing next to him. The first thing that James noticed about her was that her eyes were an almost unbelievable shade of emerald green. Her perfect face was surrounded by black curls which hung down in waves to her shoulders. The rest of her body was concealed beneath the lab coat, but the curves apparent at her breasts and hips hinted of a similarly perfect, shapely body concealed beneath the white cotton.

"My name is Raheek Seven," she said sweetly. "Most people call me Seven."

Her name was also written on the lab coat, except it was spelled "RAIC 7"

"That," explained Doctor Swan, " stands for Robotic Artificial Intelligence Clone" She reached out and turned Seven slowly around as she said, "Raheek Seven is a totally mobile R-Clone with limited self-direction. She follows a very specific routine of programmed behaviors developed especially for our purposes."

Doctor Swan stopped turning the young woman once they were facing each other and said firmly, "I think it's time for you to get to work, Seven."

"As you command," Seven answered. Then she reached up and began unbuttoning her lab coat.

Seven was naked beneath the coat. Her breasts were perfect with nipples that pointed proudly upward toward James. Her rear had a nice roundness to it without being a large "bubble butt." Her legs were very shapely and the muscles beneath her skin rippled as she walked over to stand directly in front of James. He could not help but notice that the triangle of dark hair between her legs glistened slightly as if something had recently been greatly arousing her.

James smiled nervously, trying not to stare at the naked beauty which stood docilely before him. "What now?" he asked, turning his gaze over to Doctor Swan for just a moment.

"What now," she replied, "is that you and Seven go into the collection room and you leave a deposit."

"How?" he asked. Again forcing himself to break his staring at Seven long enough to look over at the doctor.

"How do you think?" she replied almost with a laugh. "You are a man. She is a woman. The equipment is all there. Just put the key in the lock and let nature take its course."

"But how do you retrieve the... deposit?" he asked, now not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at Seven's cunt.

"I told you," Doctor Swan said slowly. "Seven is an R-Clone. Her body has certain... features... which allow it to properly collect your deposit." She turned James so he was now facing her and said, "And those features are active regardless of which opening is used to make your deposit."

James felt his prick get even stiffer in his pants.

"Come with me, X," Seven said softly as she grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the door. "We will go to my area now and prepare you."

"O... K... I guess," James responded slowly as he let her pull him toward the door.

"Leave your clothing here," Doctor Swan said. Her voice had become very firm once again and had taken on more than a little hardness.

"What!?" James yelped.

"The deposit area is sterile," she replied firmly. "You will be decontaminated on your way in, but your clothing must remain outside."

Seven was pulling stronger now so he turned to her and asked, "What does she mean by that?"

Seven didn't reply, but instead began removing James' clothing. "After you are cleaned up, I will clean you out," she said as she pushed his underwear down his body.

James was again asking, "What?" as Seven pulled him through another large hatch-like doorway. There was a second, similar hatch only a few feet inside the opening. After Seven pulled the outer hatch closed, she spun a large wheel on the inside of the hatch. Several lights lit up on a control panel next to the inner door.

"Everything needs to be totally clean to protect your deposits," she said firmly. Then her voice took on a very forceful tone as she said, "Close your eyes tight and hold your breath!"

Hot water smelling of disinfectant suddenly began spraying from nozzles on the floor, walls, and ceiling of the small space. James screamed as it suddenly felt as if acid was eating into his body.

"That pain will pass shortly," Seven said. "It only takes off the outermost layer of skin... and all your hair... but it kills all harmful bacteria and viruses." She paused a moment and then added. "The hair on your head will eventually grow back-- at least the eyelashes and eye brows will. I'm not too sure about the rest."

James reached up to wipe the liquid off his eyes. He was about to open them when Seven yelled, "Keep your eyes closed!" and the nozzles again began spraying. This time it was cold water with a slightly different chemical smell.

"Keep them closed," Seven warned as the nozzles started spraying a third time. This time the water was pleasantly warm and smelled of lavender. As the water splashed over his body, Seven reached out and wiped his skin with a soft cloth of some sort.

"Stretch out your arms and legs," Seven ordered and James found himself standing with his arms held straight out from his body and his legs widely spread. He could feel the now warm cloth rubbing his prick and scrotum as the lavender scented waters cascaded down his body. He could also feel his hair sloughing off as Seven carefully wiped and re-wiped the area.

After what seemed like many minutes of the final shower, the sound of air being circulated at high speed filled the small space. Evidently Seven was holding an air hose or a very powerful portable hair dryer since she seemed to be directing a hard stream of warm air directly across James' naked body in the same places where she was slowly moving her hand.

"You can open your eyes now," Seven said pleasantly. When he did, she was standing in front of him. Her hair seemed to be unaffected by the cleansing sprays. He looked down at his own now totally hairless body before asking incredulously, "How?.. why?.. and why didn't it affect you?"

"I told you, X," she replied in the same, calm, pleasant voice she had used before, "I am an R-Clone. My hair and skin isn't the same as yours."

She then spun the wheel on the inner hatch and pushed it open into the room. "Welcome to your new home, X," she said with a flourish.

"What do you mean, my new home?" he asked, almost angrily. "And why do you keep calling me X?"

"You will eventually understand," Seven replied. "For now lets begin to clean you out on the inside."

She slowly pushed him backwards until they were moving into a small cubicle that looked somewhat like a shower stall except that there was a large, black metal bicycle seat on a pole in the center of it. At least, that's what it looked like if you ignored the rounded metal tube which stuck straight up about two inches from the center of the seat.

"I've read your evaluation files," Seven said quietly as she continued to push James back into the enclosure. "I think you'll enjoy this."

"Sit," she said forcefully when they reached the center of the stall. James lowered himself down slowly until he felt the metal tube press against his ass cheek.

"Line it up properly," Seven commanded. "It is already lubricated and will go in smoothly."

James wasn't sure why he did so, but he obeyed her command and moved his ass in small circles until the tube popped into his crack, Then he moved forward and back until it was lined up exactly with his rosebud. Seven must have somehow known that he was now properly aligned because she suddenly pressed down HARD on his shoulders. He yelped as the rounded end of the tube slid past his anal sphincter. He yelped again as he felt the tip of the tube move further within him and then swell, locking it in place.

"I think you will enjoy this, also," Seven said as she knelt in front of him. "Besides, it will take your mind off the anal cleansing."

As she took his limp member into her mouth, James felt warm water start to pump into his bowels. There was an initial sting from the harsh cleansing agent, but that quickly passed as the other ingredients in the mix began to be absorbed.

Seven's tongue began to slide over the tip of his rapidly engorging penis. "That feels good," he said as he looked down at the top of Seven's head.

"My tongue or the warm water?" she asked.

James' answer of "Both," surprised both of them. James immediately laughed nervously and said, "I mean your mouth,"

"You meant what you said, James," she replied very firmly. "You have anal fantasies that we might have to look into as the months go by. The feeling of the warm water rushing into your ass made you stiff before my lips ever touched your prick."

James tried to protest, but the feeling of Seven's tongue on the tip of his glans was overwhelming and all he could do was moan slightly. Then he felt the urethral catheter begin to slide up the center of his prick and his moan turned to a startled yelp.