Yes, I’ll tell you the story! You don’t have to cajole me ... I am a doctor as well, after all. Oh, fine, not any more, thank you very much for reminding me!

Sigh. Yes, yes, “good behavior” means I cooperate with these sessions. I apologize, “Doctor”.

Ahem. I suppose I’ve always been different. I grew up a single child, intelligent, curious, and the entire Internet was available to me. I suppose that if I’d found a different type of erotica, or encountered it later in life, I would have been more “normal” in my interests, but one of the earliest erotic stories I’d read was about impregnation, specifically ones where the woman was unaware of her insemination. Once I was hooked, I found more, and more ... there’s no shortage of it online, you know?

I found out all I could about how female anatomy worked. My grades were good, and with my interest, becoming an OB/GYN was pretty much a no-brainer. Once I had my doctorate, I put in my time at various hospitals, building up my experience and savings, but once I got my own practice ... well, that was when I started the work that resulted in that ridiculous sobriquet, “The Baby Doctor”. Ugh.

I never married ... I was never good at talking to women, and they didn’t show much interest in me, even after I became a successful doctor. That didn’t stop me from fantasizing about them, though: all those female patients, with their vulnerable wombs.

On the night before my new practice’s opening day, I masturbated at the thought of what I was about to do, and filled a small syringe with my semen, which I then stored in the fridge. I took it with me to work and kept it in my lab coat pocket, next to an ice pack to keep it cool.

I remember my very first patient: Mrs. Sylvia Westland, in her late thirties, with auburn hair and a curvy frame, a pretty mother with one child. She had come in for a pelvic exam and I had settled her onto the examination table, legs up so that her gown blocked her view of what I was going to do. After using the speculum to open up her rather generous vaginal lips, I carefully extracted the syringe and put one ... single ... drop ... of my sperm right on her cervix! I watched, delighted, as that bead, so full of promise, soaked into the entrance to her womb and was gone. I was giddy! She had no idea, and I had to fasten my lab coat so that she wouldn’t see my erection when we were done.

Naturally, one drop of sperm is unlikely to do anything -- I didn’t want to get caught, after all! -- and I’m not even sure if it was near her fertile time. I try not to ask -- it’s more exciting that way -- though sometimes it’s pretty obvious; I was trained in the workings of the female reproductive system, after all.

I remember one woman ... umm, Mrs. Christa Elstedt, I believe it was, who I could tell was fertile the moment she walked into the exam room! She was a mother of two, in her late thirties ... tall, brunette. The way her breasts filled out her tight blouse, and how she moved her hips, just screamed fertility at me, and when she lay back, her legs up and open for my inspection, I could smell her fecundity. Once the speculum was in, the mucus around her cervix left no doubt as to her monthly status. My hand was shaking a little as I dropped that single drop right onto her ripe opening. I had to wipe the drool from my mouth as I watched her fertile body quickly absorb my sperm. She actually gave birth to a child a little over 9 months later, but since her husband and I are physically similar, there’s no way to say whose it is without a test. Honestly, it was just one drop! If he had had sex with her even once around that time, then it was most likely his.

Yes, I know, you’ll have to have the child tested. That’s why I’m telling you this. I’m cooperating, right? You’ll let them know? I want my chance at early parole.

Right, who next? There was Ms. Shondra Duggan, a voluptuous Black woman with the most incredible vaginal lips, brown and pink and meaty! While not married, I found the telltale remains of her last sexual congress milling about at the back of her vagina. I just added my one drop to the sperm party no doubt already in progress within her womb. Almost 10 months later, I was looking at that wonderful vagina again as her baby was born, and I have to admit, the child’s skin was paler than expected. Whoever her lover was, he wasn’t there during the delivery to compare to, but she was happy to hold her first baby, so maybe I contributed to that happiness?

Well, I’ll ask you to reserve your judgment, psychiatrist. You are here to listen, aren’t you? To record my story? You’re a glorified secretary.

Anyway ... there were so many ... every night before work I would masturbate, ejaculate a huge load of sperm, and suck that little syringe full. Yes, of course I sanitized it! I take pride in my work!

Every pelvic exam I performed, a little of me remained behind, inside the unsuspecting woman. Most of the time nothing came of it, but it was enough to know that my seed was absorbed into those women’s most private of places, where they had a very small chance to impregnate them.

The Sandhu’s had immigrated from India years before. The husband insisted on coming into the exam room with his wife, a fortysomething pear-shaped woman, and wouldn’t leave her side, but once her legs were up, he sat by her head, embarrassed, so he didn’t see me insinuate my sperm into his wife’s body, and I smiled as he shook my hand afterward. No baby that time, though.