Pregnant by Prescription: A Fertility Spa MILF Harem Romance

Every woman who checks into this spa leaves pregnant. The directress signs the orders. He’s the prescription.

Adam Keller took the masseur job because he was broke. Then his bloodwork came back, and the directress rewrote every treatment plan in the building around him.

The mineral cure is theater. Silberquell’s miracle was always one resident man. The old one retired.

Adam is the new one.

CEOs, heiresses, women who burned through every clinic: they pay six figures, and now every chart in the house carries the same name. His. With an appointment time and the doctor’s signature.

The clients aren’t the problem. The staff is. They were never supposed to be on the schedule, and one by one they’re writing themselves in.

Dr. Marlene Adler, 44. The directress. She signs every prescription and supervises every session, and her white coat is losing the war against her chest. How long until she writes her own name on the board?

Bianca, the Brazilian head masseuse, all deep-tan skin and hips that make therapy whites a public hazard. She decoded his bloodwork before he did, and she is not waiting behind the paying clientele.

“The window is tonight. I checked twice.” That’s Yuki, the petite nurse who runs the cycle charts and decides exactly when. Lately she’s been finding gaps in her own calendar.

Poppy, 23, freckled and forever losing the battle with her cardigan buttons, tries blackmail to get on the roster. She gets told to wait her turn instead. Nobody warned her how much she’d like that.

Simone, the CEO guest, sharp suits buttoned over an hourglass she keeps locked in armor. She demands a guaranteed outcome with metrics. Contracts have never broken her heart. This one might.

Greta, six months along from last season, back “for the waters.” The walking proof of the guarantee, glowing and generous with it.