Chapter 3
Brutus
Alexander talked me into this, but it’s Brooke I work with to get set up for the breeding program.
The little ewe satyr has an incredible power to put others at-ease.
“Do you want to take a peek at the backend?” she offers, turning her monitor toward me.
We sit in her second-floor office, a cozy farmhouse-style space collaged with smiling photos of farm staff and some of Alexander’s paintings, overlooking the fields.
I let out a soft snort. “Do I ever.”
She tabs over to a developer view and scrolls through the codified queries.
I’ve fucked with enough spreadsheet formulas to understand half of it, and I immediately resonate with the systematic way her mind works.
“The algorithm optimizes over several different parameters,” she explains, “and I can adjust which one is prioritized based on client preference. Then this is the routine that checks everyone’s most recent testing dates and automatically sends out reminder emails.”
“So my results are now in that database?” I delivered them last week, and Alexander sicced Maggie and Fiona on me to take my photo for the website. They said it looks great, and I trust them. Apparently, there’s already been interest.
Brooke nods. “Encrypted and HIPAA compliant. Now that the waiting period is over, I just need your final confirmation, and we’re good to go.”
I take a deep breath. I stared at the contract for an hour last night. Are you willing to impregnate?
Given that minotaurs are extremely virile and compatible with most species, the question is crucial. Condoms are unreliable and impractical given how much cum minotaurs produce, and while other contraception still works, it’s never quite as effective with minotaur sperm in the mix.
If I check No, the system will only match me with the much smaller client pool where pregnancy is biologically impossible.
Part of what makes the answer so hard is that it’s so easy.
I do, emphatically, desperately want to ‘impregnate.’
Just… not anonymously. Maybe it’s selfish, wanting to be in the life of whatever child that’s… mine. It feels selfish. All I have to do is nut. She’s the one who has to carry them, nurture them, birth them… But that’s why I want to be involved.
Alexander assured me that the women who sign up for the breeding program know what they’re doing. Plenty of them already have partners, families, villages to help them raise their kids.
That last reminder makes the decision. These women know what they want, and I deeply respect that. If they want a cream pie and a polite goodbye… Okay. I can do that.
Alexander was right: I get antsy, anxious when I’m pent up. I’ve been noticing it all week. The little huffs of frustration, the hesitation when a coworker brings me a problem.
I want to bring my best self to the people in my life, so…
I give a firm nod. “Yeah. Yes. Sworn and signed, I am… willing to impregnate.”
Brooke’s smile is gentle. “Sounds good. If you ever change your mind, you just let me know.” She hands me a tablet with the contract pulled up.
I’ve already read it a dozen times, so I skip to the bottom before I lose my resolve and sign with the little pen that sits oddly in my large hand.
Brook takes the tablet back, signs her name next to mine, and saves the contract.
“So… I don’t suppose you’ll be willing to give a sneak peek of who I might match with?”
Brook’s smile deepens. “Nope. That would violate HIPAA.”
I offer a wry grin. “Yeah. Of course.”
Brooke chuckles lightly. “Breathe, Brutus.”
Her words bring my attention to my tight chest, and I force a deep, cleansing breath.
“Excited?” she asks, lightly teasing.
“How do people handle the suspense?!”
She places a gentle hand on my elbow. “It gets easier after the first time.”
After the first time.
I’m going to be anonymously fucking a lot of different women.
Right, that’s fine.
I’m fine with that.
I’ll… become fine with that.