This is entirely a work of fiction and to my knowledge original. If I have plagiarised any part it is accidental and the author would appreciate the pointing out of the error of his ways. Please! I am not the British Intelligence Establishment.
It is written as a work of erotic fiction so, obviously, if you have an issue with that then, www.cartoonnetwork.com was probably what you were looking for, young lad.
Jonathon Wetherall knocked on the front door of number 12 for the final interview before selection. He waited somewhat nervously for the door to be opened.
'Jane' admitted him into the front room that was being used as an office. As usual the other woman 'Margaret' was already seated at the desk.
"This shouldn't take long Mr. Wetherall," 'Jane said, "we just need a couple of more things".
Jonathon hadn't quite figured out what the relationship between the two women was.
'Were they living together in a lesbian relationship? Or were they just friends?' He couldn't tell. For the last three weeks he had absently studied the 2 for some sign, but their attitude had been entirely businesslike.
"... So you've studied the contract... ah, Mr. Wetherall?" He became aware that 'Jane' was talking.
"Sorry," he said, "lost in thought for a while."
"I asked you if you agreed to the conditions in the contract?" She repeated somewhat peeved.
"Oh yes, no problem."
"Good. So if you are selected you should expect to hear from us by Friday. Did you bring your test results?"
"Yes, here," he replied, handing them the brown envelope.
"Good. We'll be in touch, that's all, you can go."
As Jonathon walked back down the path he began to wonder whether it was such a good idea after all.
All this carry-on just to donate a little of his sperm. Psychological tests, IQ tests, DNA profiling, medical history and, of course, tests for STD's.
When he'd answered the ad in the local paper he'd hadn't expected it to be such a demanding process.
'Jerk a little semen into a flask', and a quick $500. Good money for something he'd be doing anyway.
The contract though had run to a couple of pages. 'If 'Jane' conceived he would have no claim of custody.'
'He would forgo any parental rights. In return there would be no maintenance order.'
He walked back to his tiny one-room apartment, he shared with his cat. It was in the usual disorder, clothes strewn about, dishes in the sink.
'I really need a housekeeper,' he thought to himself.
He searched through his CDs scattered haphazardly next to the stereo. Bic Runga, Kristin Hersh, Kim Deal, women singers, pleasant voices, good melodies, but with an edge, a certain something. He chose Kristin and put her on, settled into his armchair and closed his eyes.
On the verge of 40 Jonathon had never really stuck at anything in his life. He must have had, what, about 40 jobs so far, one for every year of his life. He made a bit of money writing copy for a local radio station and the occasional 'voice over' work. 'Voice overs' was where the real money was but it was hard to get regular work. Once your voice became associated with a product other advertisers were reluctant to use you. It's a reality of the business.
'What other jobs had he had?' Salesman, truck driver, mechanic, TV repairman, none of them had held his interest for longer then a few months.
Women? He'd come close to marriage once but he'd screwed that up. As the day was coming nearer he'd suddenly got cold feet. A bad case of the jitters. Sue had finally gotten fed up with his erratic behaviour and walked out of his life. A fine woman she was too.
He wasn't that bad looking. He'd always worn his blond hair long but it was beginning to thin out alarmingly. He now kept it in a ponytail. He described his features as 'Nordic' looking. His body was well proportioned and not showing any middle aged 'spread' yet.
'Two more days and I'll know whether I'll earn myself $500,' he thought to himself.
On Friday morning the phone rang about 9.30. It shook Jonathon awake. He picked the receiver up struggling to clear the fog from his brain.
"Yeah, whatizzit?" he said.
"Mr. Wetherall?" it was 'Jane's' voice.
"I'm pleased to tell you that you've been selected."
"Good, thanks," he replied.
"I want to start this weekend," she went on, "is that convenient?"
"Ok, 2pm, Saturday?"
"I guess that'll be ok," he said wondering what game was on and whether he'd miss it. Hell! $500 for a wank, he could afford to give up an afternoon.
Saturday, 1.55pm Jonathon was outside number 12.
"You're prompt," said 'Jane,' "I like that."
'Jane' was in her late thirties, he figured. She wasn't bad looking, 'a bit plain', he thought and she'd always wore conservative business suits when he'd seen her. He thought maybe business executive or a lawyer. Certainly a professional type. Jonathon assumed she was a lesbian whose biological clock was ticking and wanted to have a kid before time ran out. Her hair was always tied back giving her a rather severe look.
'Jane' talked briefly to her friend 'Margaret' standing in the hallway of the rather expensive looking house.
"Do you want to stick around?"
"Do you want me to?" "Margaret' asked.
"I think he'd be alright, he looks pretty harmless to me."
"Ok, I'll be off, I'll see you on Monday."
With that 'Margaret' left. No peck on the cheek, no lingering expression of affection,
'Just friends,' Jonathon thought. 'This whole set-up is looking a bit weird.'
'Jane led him through the house to a door down a short passageway.
"You can get ready in there," 'Jane' said.
"Ready?" Jonathon queried.
"You know, do what you have to do, I'm sure you don't need instructions," she told him with a wry grin.
"Oh yes, of course." He flushed in embarrassment.
Jonathon opened the door to find it was a spare bedroom. A double bed dominated but for the most part the room was Spartan.
"Er, just a minute," he called to 'Jane' retreating down the passageway. "What do I do with it... er... you know. Don't you have a test tube or something?"
"Test tube?" She asked in surprise, "oh, I see... ha ha, that's funny. Did you assume... oh... we didn't tell you perhaps... I'm so sorry."
Jonathon was confused.
"No test tubes, I'm afraid. We'll be doing it the natural way. I thought you knew. It's not too late to back out if you want. Although it would be a pain finding another candidate on short notice. You were the outstanding applicant, believe it or not. All the characteristics I would want for my child."
"I was, I mean, I am," Jonathon was flustered. "Natural way, you mean like... together... I mean..."
"Unless you can think of some other natural method. 'Together,' would seem the only way," 'Jane' smiled.
"Do you have some sort of religious objections Mr. Wetherall? You know, it did ask that question in the form we sent you. You should have stated..." She continued.
"No, no objections, it's just... a bit of a surprise... I assumed I would be using a test tube and..."
"We believe that intercourse is the more effective way, Mr. Wetherall. So, if you don't have a problem, shall we get on with it? I do have a dinner appointment."
"Ok... sure... no problem... I'll just go back there and... get ready," Jonathon stumbled out the words.
"Please." replied 'Jane' continuing up the passageway.
Jonathon sat on the bed with his trousers down and his limp dick in his hand.
'Get ready,' he thought, 'get ready? How? This whole situation is about as erotic as mucking out the stables.'
He tried to think of porno he had seen, girls he'd lusted after. He even tried to remember girls that had turned him down way back in school. Now he was the dark avenger, stalking them, giving some payback for the humiliations he'd suffered as a teenager.
Abducting them and taking them to a cabin in the woods, in his imagination, over the next week he would turn them into his willing sex slaves. They would call him 'master' and be ready to accept him anywhere, anyway, anyhow and anytime.
Jonathon squeezed and stroked his unwilling penis as first Melissa, then Annette and Joanne took him into their willing mouths. He tried to imagine their budding teenage breasts bobbing on their chests, their eager young faces. So eager to please and grateful for every compliment.
"Mr. Wetherall? Are you ready yet?"
'Shit' he thought.
"No, not yet... sorry."
"Look, what do you need?" 'Jane' said, "I haven't got all day."
"I'm not a machine," Jonathon said in exasperation. "I can't just turn it on and off."
He heard her sigh outside the door.
"Can I come in?"
Jonathon quickly pulled up his pants and said,
'Jane' had changed into a long silk nightdress. It hugged quite a slim figure with well-proportioned breasts. The way they jiggled when she walked across the room revealed she was braless. Her hair was still tied back severely from her face, though, giving her a stern, authoritarian look. She sat on the other side of the bed.
.... There is more of this story ...