Page 3 of Breeding Clinic

I scoop some cat food into his dish and stroke his back, enjoying the way he arches into it. “You’re getting fat.” Waffles doesn’t care. I make a mental note to switch him to a light formula for indoor cats. He’s older now too, and his metabolism’s slowing down.

After dinner, I set up the fancy machine in my bathroom anddownload the app. A few taps syncs it to my health app and it records my heat information. The instructions say it works best with first morning urine, so I force myself to wait to try it out.

I try to distract myself with a movie, but nothing holds my attention. My thoughts keep drifting back to baby fever. It’s crazy to look up nursery photos, but I can’t help myself. Josh, Andrew, and Kevin never understood my relentless need to plan.

Four potential nursery themes later, I finally call it quits when I can hardly keep my eyes open. The movie rolls to credits. I turn the television off and drag myself to the bathroom to brush my teeth, then go to bed.

In the morning, I wake up with energy. It’s time to pee on a test strip. I read the instructions that came with it again, then pee into a cup and dip the test strip. The cap goes back on and it’s the other end that goes into the machine to be read.

After three agonizing minutes, the display reads low fertility. Now that I’ve told the machine when I want to test, it sets an alarm for the rest of the cycle.

With nothing else to do but wait for my body to do its thing, I wait.

Chapter Two

KAT

Preheat hitsme like a sack of bricks. I’m fine one moment, then sweating and irritable the next. At first I think it’s this awful heatwave. Then a telltale cramp tells me it’s not the temperature outside making me hot.

I turn the stove off and head to the bathroom to take a test, forcing myself not to stare at the timer counting down. The timer goes off and the fertility monitor’s screen reads high fertility. My luteinizing hormone is rising.

I call the clinic and set an appointment for insemination. I’ll take my first pill tonight. A few days from now, I’ll drive to the clinic and stay there for a medicated heat cycle.

Waffles is going to need a pet sitter. I call the girl I normally use and make up a story about going out of town for a few days.

“Have fun!” she tells me, probably thinking I’m headed a few hours away to the beach. “I’ll come over on Tuesday after my classes are done. If you need me earlier, let me know.”

“I will. Thanks, Chelsea. I’ll leave the money on the kitchen table. And don’t feed Waffles too much. He’s on a diet.”

“I won’t,” she lies. We both know she spoils him rotten withtreats. But he loves her and I like having someone in the house when I’m away.

Panic hits me when I realize I never picked up the medication. I throw the lid on my half-cooked food and run out to the pharmacy to fill my prescription. An elderly alpha checking out the arthritis aisle glances in my direction and smiles. The pharmacy tech tells me to wait while they fill it. They restocked it when I never picked it up. I wait, antsy to get it and go home. I hate leaving the house during preheat. People get so weird.

After twenty minutes, she rings up the prescription. I take the first pill while sitting in my car in the parking lot, then head home. By the time I’m at the house, my stomach is no longer interested in dinner. I toss the half-made spaghetti out and reach for a protein water and chocolate. Once I’m settled on the couch, Waffles jumps into my lap and I pet him while looking for something good to watch.

Four days later,a wet burst of slick gushes between my thighs after a cramp. It’s time to head to the clinic. I text Jen that I’m going in, then Chelsea to tell her that I’m leaving. I wheel my small suitcase out to my car, doing deep breathing exercises between agonizing cramps.

While I drive, I call the clinic to let them know I’m on my way. The woman on the other end of the phone gives me the address for their heat clinic. It’s a signless brick building a few blocks away from their main office.

A worker brings me inside and shows me to a small office where they take my vitals. She pulls out a patient folder withpaperwork and my sperm donor’s profile. “This is the alpha you’ve chosen?” she asks.

“Yes.” His chubby baby photo makes me smile, and the pheromone swatch clipped to his profile makes my clit throb. My nose is extra sensitive during a heat, and I chose well. He smells delicious. My pussy clamps down on nothing and I stifle a whimper.

“Sign here. This is a standard waiver for patient care, a billing agreement, and a consent for natural insemination treatment. We have a credit card on file. Is that the one you want us to use?”

“Yes. That one’s fine.” I take the pen from her and sign, clenching my teeth as a spasm rocks my core. God, it’s bad. I don’t know if it’s the medication or the anticipation but this is the worst heat I’ve ever had since I was a teenager. Knot hunger rots my brain and leaves me blinking extra slow, my thoughts sluggish. Betas will never understand how bad it is. How painfully desperate an omega becomes during their heat.

I would sit on the first dick presented to me if it made this horrible, empty ache go away.

Slick drenches my special heat panties. When I squeeze my thighs together and tense, my clit aches. It’s swollen and ready for petting. I need this woman to leave so I can shove my hand down my waistband and bang out a shallow orgasm so I can think again.

I sign all of the papers and shove the pile at her. “Everything looks good. How long do I have to wait?”

“I’ll show you to your room where you’ll be staying for the duration of your heat. We’ll hook you up to a monitor that lets us track your vital signs from the nurse’s station. There are cameras and microphones in the room for your safety, but we won’t be watching unless you call for help or we suspect you need emergency assistance. Your safety is our number onepriority, and we take all preventative steps to make this heat as safe and satisfying as possible.”

Safe? Oh, the meds.

“Do you want to get settled in your room?” she asks, heading to the door.

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