Justin Caas - The Third Sex

The following day was a busy one. First appointment at 9:00 am. Kavita, age 31. Indian descent, dark complexion, long black hair. She was relaxed. Had been to Studs before. She was interesting to talk to. She wanted a son. I said that she had a better than sixty percent chance of that happening. Kavita looked surprised, “Yes I’ve heard of that imbalance but never understood why.

“It’s partly a result of our genetic engineering. In the early days and although sexes suffered heavy losses, the male population was almost wiped out. But male children are favoured by deep penetration and Studs tend to this because sperm is usually released when a tightening of the vagina behind the swelling at the base of our penis triggers the act of true impregnation.”

“Oh, but why do male babies need deep penetration?”

“Because, apparently, male sperm although more active do not last long, so if they are deposited as close to their goal as possible, the chances of a male conception is greater.”

Kavita was curious about many things and she was an interesting conversationalist, but time was moving on so I hastily impregnated her.

Nurse Jean announced the next client was due at 10:00 then another at 10:30. The first was Marion, age 24 and hoping for her first baby. She was newly married. Her husband had a good career ahead of him and they were already financially comfortable. Strangely enough Marion was also a virgin so I took some extra time to ensure that her first experience was as pleasant as I could make it.

The 10:30 client a teenager named Carla. A slightly chubby girl of anonymous appearance and aged nineteen. It was unusual to encounter a teenager, although the Ministry did have what they called the Mother Support Scheme. If girls or women entering this scheme met the highest standards of health and particularly genetic suitability, the Ministry would fully support them for an agreed period of breeding and thereafter a generous pension for the rest of their lives. The term generous is capable of wide interpretation and when used by the Ministry meant, in reality, adequate. The scheme was sufficiently attractive though that many applied although only a small percentage would qualify. Apparently Carla did. The Ministry would soon smarten up her outlook on exercise though I thought to myself. You don’t get in and more to the point stay in without conforming to strict Ministry guidelines.

“So are you familiar with the procedure ?” I asked.

Carla smiled wryly. “Fairly familiar. I started doing it when I was twelve,” she announded with some pride. “Runs in the family.”

“Really? You have brothers or sisters?”

“Two brothers, one sister. We are apparently very lucky. No inherited genetic shortcomings. Perfect health.”

“So where did you start your adventures in loving relationships?” I was curious.

“Oh, all in the family of course. Males are sterile, the females are not. Makes for safe fun don’t you think?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” I had heard that one consequence of the gender imbalance combined with the unlikely risk of pregnancy was a rise in the social acceptability of incest. Society has certainly changed, I mused. Although not really—family relationships had been a fact of life since time began, the only difference was that in this era it had become more respectable than in some others. So no need to worry about making allowance for youth, as this one apparently had plenty of practice and from an early age. The impregnation went smoothly and Carla seemed well satisfied.

Who was next? No one, well time to grab some lunch and a chat with Nurse Jean. Jean was well-read was possessed of a fund of arcane knowledge and was a good conversationalist. We were sitting in a nearby café. As I glanced idly through the window I felt a momentary chill as Pudding and Gretan walked past. Gretan limped noticeably. Fortunately they didn’t see me.

After lunch I scanned the appointment list. Four clients were dispensed without fuss. It was then that I noticed the last name, Lucy Luckner. How could I have missed that? Did she know that I was in residence here? It made no sense. The glimpse of Pudding and Gretan had unsettled me.

Lucy in a bathrobe turned the garment into a high fashion accessory. She greeted me cordially and hastened to assure me that she had long since forgotten any discomforts from the past and hoped that I had done the same.

I was cautious. “I notice you have booked the last two sessions. Why is that?”

“I wanted time to talk to you about some technicalities in the programme beforehand,” Lucy explained cordially. You see, I really want only daughters, is there any way we can improve the odds?”

It wasn’t the only time clients had asked this question, so I explained, “Girls are more likely to be conceived if mating takes place about three days before you ovulate. So you need to establish a pattern that can pinpoint the time of ovulation as accurately as possible. Also a shallow penetration helps your chances.”

“Why is that?”

“The vagina is more acidic near the entrance and female sperm like acidic. Nothing is guaranteed of course. It’s still luck of the draw. But those steps will help.”

“Well I’m prepared to chance it. I’ve been monitoring this for the past five months and it’s all very regular. I’ve left the dates and details with your nurse.”

“Okay. But if you don’t mind my asking, why the emphasis on girls? I mean most women are trying for boys these days and of course mostly succeeding.”

“I have my reasons,” Lucy said vaguely.

“There’s a further complication if you’re reallly trying for a girl. Not insuperable but you’d need to cooperate.”

“What’s that?” she enquired.

I told her and she smiled. “I think I could handle that, might even be interesting,” she replied.

My sense of smell told me that she wasn’t ovulating and if that’s the path she wanted to walk then none of my business. It was one of the more stimulating sessions, helped by the fact that Lucy’s body had lost none of its earlier charm and indeed had gained further voluptuous curves in the interim.

When Frances’ final appointment arrived it was late afternoon. It had been a busy day but strangely enough I wasn’t tired, in fact I was beginning to discover a new and unexpected dimension to my role: the contact, interaction, conversation with people of very contrasting personalities was fascinating in itself. And perhaps even more strangely I found myself welcoming each encounter with a growing anticipation. The pleasure did not diminish with repetition, if anything it grew stronger and more intense.

Frances had clearly come out of her shell and was discovering a new dimension to the romantic side of life. Well perhaps not romantic but at least sensual. Frances put on her best manner as a siren, swayed voluptuously as she spoke. Something was bothering her. I waited. I suggested the couch but she paused saying, “Could I ask you to indulge a little private fantasy?” at the same time blushing furiously.

“Sure. Quite a few clients ask for some form of role play which is probably more human and less clinical than simply lying on a couch as in a doctor’s room.”

Slightly reassured Frances said hesitantly, “I hope you won’t think I’m stupid or…” she searched for the right word, immodest but…”

“Believe me, anything you can dream up has probably already been asked of Studs a thousand times and is okay. I don’t do swinging from the chandeliers though,” I said with a grin.

“Could we…do it on the floor, like, you know crawling around on hands and knees?” Another flush of colour came to her cheeks.