Page 11 of Breeding Clinic

“I’m driving home now. Can’t wait to brush my hair and shower. I look like roadkill.”

“How’d it go?”

There’s a flash of memory of Liam purring for me when a cramp got bad. I can still smell him on my skin. Part of me wants to put off the shower as long as possible so I don’t wash his scent off me. But the more rational part of me knows it’s best to move on. I’ll probably never see him again. Hopefully. If I do, it’s because this cycle failed.

“It was great. Different from what I expected, but good. I got to meet my donor.”

“Oooh. Is he cute?”

“He is. And nice, and funny.”And great at eating pussy, but she doesn’t need to hear that.

“I’m glad it worked out well for you. When will you find out the results?” she asks.

“Next week. I have to make an appointment to get blood work drawn.”

I can hear her kids in the background, and sure enough, a minute later Jen says she has to go.

Waffles clings to my side when I get home. He follows me into the bathroom and sits on the counter while I shower. Once I’m clean and my hair is combed out, I take special care to put thick unscented lotion on my inner thighs where I’m chaffed.

After, I grab some broth and crackers and a ginger ale and plant my ass on the couch with a cozy blanket. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Waffles joins me, settling in my lap, and we find something good to watch. Heats always take it out of me. And I have a lot of sleep to catch up on over the next couple of days.

The fertility monitorbeckons me like a siren’s lure every time I go to the bathroom to pee. It doesn’t help that I work from home, so I see it constantly. The urge to pee on a stick gets so bad that I have to shove it into a drawer so I don’t waste the expensive test sticks.

By the time the clinic sends me an automated appointment reminder for my blood work, my resolve breaks. Am I a bit nauseous? My appetite’s been poor. Are my breasts more tender than usual? Every potential symptom becomes my latest hyperfixation. They’re probably all side effects from the progesterone supplement they called in for me. Although they don’t think my progesterone is the problem, it’s better safe than sorry.

Waffle meows and paws at the bathroom door, and I’m jarred out of my staring contest with the drawer. One test won’t hurt. The appointment’s tomorrow, anyway. And if it’s not good news, I’d rather find out in private. That way I can spend all night crying and planning what to do for my next heat.

I dig the fertility monitor out of the drawer and find a pregnancy test strip, then pee and stick it in and wait. Minutes stretch into an eternity. By the time it beeps, I’m a nervous wreck. I glance at the screen.

There’s a smiley face with the word pregnant under it.

“Oh, fuck.” I stare at it to make sure it’s real, then pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

It’s real. I’m pregnant. For now, anyway. My happiness is cautious. But I finish up in the bathroom and text Jen to share the news.

Kat

I’m pregnant

Jen

OMG! Already?

Good job sperm donor!

I told you Josh was the problem

I don’t know why he refused to get tested

I go to the clinic tomorrow for the official test

How often do you have to go?

Every day for three days then weekly

They have to make sure my hormones are doubling

Exciting! I’m so happy for you <3

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