INTRODUCING THE FERTILITY FARM

Come to the fertility farm, where impregnation tends to be far more fun.

This Betty’s last chance to get pregnant. Her only option is to sleep her way through a gangbang.

What happens when one of her many donors can’t seem to let her go?
​
Dive into this playful erotic short now.

an excerpt

Betty’s fingers curled into the edge of the table, crinkling the paper under her bare ass. A draft whooshed up her hospital gown, tightening her skin with goose bumps. She hated this part. The one where the doctor told her there was nothing she could do. Fertility treatments only did so much.

The door opened, and Doctor Emily Wismer walked through, her white coat lining the designer suit beneath. A Hollywood smile greeted her. “No need to look so nervous. Your exam went well, your tests look good, and you have options. Let’s talk about them.”

Pamphlets and too much information were thrown at her. Most importantly, she had hope. 

The decision wasn’t so easy though. 

Her best option was the fertility farm, where they’d dope her up with medication and hand her over to be impregnated. She wouldn’t know by who because of the drugs, but was that a blessing or a curse?

Betty wouldn’t be alone, and Emily—as she insisted being called—spared her no details on what to expect from the experience. All of the men employed had excellent genetics and were curated as sperm donors. But essentially, she’d be paying to sleep through a gangbang.
​
Why did that slicken her thighs?

returning to the farm

Come to the fertility farm, where impregnation tends to be far more fun.

Betty visited the fertility farm three years ago, sleeping through a gangbang and walking away pregnant with twins.

Now that she wants more children, can she get her former donor to impregnate her?
​
Dive into this playful erotic short now.

an excerpt

Betty tapped the picture of her boys against the table of a small meeting room in the fertility farm, where she had the most bizarre experience of her life. She slept through a gangbang and came out pregnant with twins.

Most of it, she didn’t remember. Not even the stuff she was awake for at the end.

But she did have dreams about a man whispering in a soft lilt, kissing and holding onto her in a half-conscious state. It was always some version of him and pleasure.

Betty was sure he was the genetic father of her boys. Charlie was their father in every other way, but now that they were ready for more kids, she wanted the donor who gave them her beautiful boys.

She also wanted to meet the man who’d given her so many wet dreams.

Sighing, she did her best to relax against the back of the chair and stared at Connor and Cory. They were two, and Betty worried that their donor no longer worked at the farm. But a soft knock on the door sent a new frenzy through her, straightening her spine and sending sweat across her palms.

The photo fell face-down on the table.

When the door opened, the soft scent of man and aftershave triggered a flash of memory—her fingers dug into flesh, core tightening around the rapid thrusts of a cock, and that damned lilting voice saying, Fuck, Betty. What kind of spell have you cast on me?

That shock had no time to wear off before a tall, lanky man with orange hair like her sons' stepped inside. The door snapped closed behind him, but he just stood there, looking at her for too many heartbeats.

And Betty was counting her own.

Were her boys going to grow up to look like him? She saw the resemblance already, although his cheekbones were more defined, his mouth wider and fuller, and his blue eyes skewered her with the kind of desire she hadn’t thought possible.

He finally stepped forward and lowered himself into the seat opposite of her. “Hello, Betty.”

God, that voice made her panties wet. Did he remember her?