The Veterinarian’s Assistant

Her baby kicked; he didn’t like the cold air of the open freezer door. It had malfunctioned overnight but was still as cold as a refrigerator and Maya was only halfway through the hundreds of sperm samples she had to take care of.

The young brunette had always relied on her looks to bunt life’s curveballs. In the aftermath of a one-night stand with some random ‘don’t worry, I’ll pull out’ college guy, she was still as beautiful as ever, with her hypnotic blue eyes and naturally plump lips. Some would argue the pregnancy had only enhanced her glow (perhaps meaning her breasts).

She could even fool you from behind, having worked to retain her thin, athletic figure during the past 8 months, but her stupid dreams of professional cheerleading could not survive the bad timing of this giant balloon preceding her. Maya had to leave her aspirations in the trash along with the positive pregnancy test. And so, for the sake of little Brice, Maya grabbed the first zero-experience-required opportunity that presented itself: being a veterinarian’s assistant for her already successful friend Skyler.

The rural clinic she worked at was more than cats and dogs. There were so many farms and ranches nearby that even the center’s logo was a horse running in front of a red cross. By being the only medical center for miles, it had taken on some heavily specialized services.

Maya’s full-time job was related to one such specialized service: artificial insemination. Prized semen was big business and they were double-dipping by getting a fee for the extraction and a cut of the sale. A dose from a champion stallion could sell for over a thousand dollars. Of course, sale value didn’t mean every 50ml vial was precious. A single ejaculation contained enough sperm for several samples and most of what was collected just sat in the vast assortment of underground freezers until they ‘expired,’ which was the term used when an unsold batch was just taking shelf space that could be used to hold the new hotness.

And that’s where Maya came in. She thought as a vet’s assistant she would hold down dogs while they were getting their shots, but no, she had never even interacted with an animal so far. It was just her in the basement, and tens of thousands of semen samples, and a clangorous robot programmed to know which batch was considered expired and bring them to the swallower.

She had the city council of this farming community to thank for the existence of her position. A year ago, some bored crackpot started a rumor that went viral with all the soccer moms: semen from the clinic was poisoning the town’s water supply. An ordinance had passed classifying all sperm (frozen or otherwise) collected by a business as a hazardous substance that could not be disposed of through city drain or directly to the ground. So, you either paid a private company thousands of dollars to come collect unwanted samples, risked a fine in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, or you circumvented this idiotic law by hiring a Maya and paying her minimum wage.

The professional cum swallower’s first few days consisted of a morning of pulling out samples listed in an auto-generated list, then an afternoon of drinking them once they thawed. Things changed last month when a local stallion and local dog respectively won the Pennsylvania Derby and Westminster Best in Show in the same week. Sperm value from the blessed town skyrocketed and interested buyers doubled. This sent everyone into a white-gold rush of milking any male with four legs for a quick buck.

Supply outpaced demand and a daily surplus in the gallons flooded the freezer shelves. When the vet’s assistant learned she was getting her own assistant, she thought that would cut her swallowing quantities in half. But no, all she got this stupid tin can that took away the normal part of her job and left her with only the swallowing part.

Today the infernal thing printed out a memo before going about its task of filling the consumption table with vials of rejected seed: ‘Freezer 34 has malfunctioned overnight; the entire content needed to be disposed of.’

This was why she was downing bottle after bottle of chilled bovine semen while an assortment of vials was accumulating and getting lukewarm on the center table. Her pregnant belly was still hiding her cum-belly for now, but she was only a couple hours into her shift.

At the end of her worst day on the job (so far), Maya was staring at the last five vials on the table. Their mere presence was taunting her gag reflex. She was well into overtime, struggling not to throw up the last ingested liter of farm animal mix in her stomach.

The remaining vials’ labels were facing away from her.