The Sacrifices We Make Pt. 02

When the presentation was over, with the lights back up and the questions answered, the whole audience sat in a kind of stunned silence. We knew even back on Earth that the whole... process or whatever... was more involved than "they need our eggs and also our help to make it all work", but this... this was far beyond anything that at least I had considered. The changes to our bodies, the replacement of organs and repurposing of flesh was... a lot. We were, at least, assured not only that the alien's medical technology was far, far beyond our own; that they would use our own genetics to create our replacement organs so our bodies wouldn't reject them; but that when our term with the project was over, they would rebuild us back to original spec, or better if we wanted. That promise settled may of my fears, and those of the audience, but there was still some uncertainty.

"Now that you know all of the details," the speaker said, and for the first time I realized she was not speaking into a visible microphone, "you again have the opportunity to back out. We fully understand that a lot is being asked of you. That is why so much is being offered in return after your term in the program. Still, if you want to leave, you absolutely can. As before, just report back to the shuttle bay and you'll be taken back to Earth, no questions asked, no hard feelings." She looked around the room; so did I. This time, a few people did stand up and leave. They were mostly men, and I had to say, I got it. I didn't agree, really, but I understood how a man would have an issue with having a vagina and being expected to use it.

In my case, of course, that was no big deal. I had (still have) a vagina that, even then, I was very familiar with and had used. For me, not a whole lot would really change. My uterus would be farther in, and so I'd have to be able to accommodate a dick much larger than anything I'd ever even seen, but that seemed much less of a concern. Well that and the egg laying. That was going to be... odd though it didn't seem entirely unpleasant. At least not painful.

So, as a few of the men shuffled out and back to their lives on the planet below, the rest of us started to really wrap our heads around the next four years. They had mentioned very briefly that a depositor was matched with an incubator, and someone had asked a question later on to clarify that. Yes, we would be paired up, at least at first. Eventually though, depending on the needs of the program, one depositor might be matched with as many as four incubators in a complex rotation of implanting and collection. I wondered about that: first about being paired with one depositor. I had never been in a real, long-term committed relationship. Not that this would be one of those, but it wasn't too far off either. That seemed a bit intimidating, and I found myself looking around the room, at the men in my group, wondering if any of them would be assigned to me.

On the other hand, the thought of being one of several, in an arrangement that had more to do with efficiency than intimacy, wasn't exactly appealing either. Or, no, maybe not that so much, but just it wasn't something I was prepared for.

The practicalities of that first day prevented me from thinking about it all that much more though, at least right then in that moment. "For those of you still with us," the speaker started up again, "it's now time for the medical examinations. When I call your name, please proceed through the doors to your right." We all turned and found the doors she was talking about, then waited to be called.

When it was my turn I did as I was told, stepping through the double doors into a brightly-lit hallway that immediately reminded me of a hospital: white and extremely clean, smelling faintly of something antiseptic.

Just as I moved into the hall, I was met by (thank God) a woman in blue medical scrubs. Most of her body, and her hair, were concealed but her face was warm and pretty, and she smiled as she introduced herself. "I'll be doing your exam and extraction," she explained, then asked for my name. "Alright, this way please," and she led me through the hall, down another, and into a small exam room. Once inside, she again confirmed my name and other information, then we got down to business.

"Alright, do you take any medications?" she asked, sitting in a small chair, reading her questions from a small electronic pad.

"No, nothing," I said, which was true.

"What about smoking, drinking, drug use?" There was no accusation in her voice, just a matter-of-fact question.

I bit my lower lip. "Well, I might drink, a little, sometimes..." I was still a couple of years away from that being technically legal, but I felt like telling the truth right up front would be better than lying and then being found out. "Never smoked, and no, nothing, you know, illicit." She nodded, her only reaction to my admission.

"Sexually active?" She didn't even look up from the tablet, though I understand now that she probably thought it would be easier for me to answer honestly that way, and she would have been right.

"Does uh... with myself count?" I blurted and half-laughed, before blushing and puckering my lips shut. She raised an eyebrow, turning her eyes, but not her face, to me. I blushed harder, at least until her lips spread in a kind smile.

"For our purposes, no. We'll put 'not active'. Which means no chance you're pregnant?"

"What? No! No absolutely... not..." I almost admitted that I never wanted to be pregnant, but then wondered how that would reflect on my psych evaluation. Where did they want me to be on that subject? For one, I was about to give up every single one of my eggs, to be rendered entirely infertile for the rest of my life. On the other hand, my body would be incubating alien eggs, and I would be, technically, pregnant. That realization kind of slapped me in the face and punched me in the gut at the same time.

"Not pregnant, alright," she commented, as though she hadn't even noticed my startled reaction. There were more questions: family medical history, known illnesses and diseases, did I still have my appendix. I answered everything I could as well as I could, until she had nothing left to ask.

"OK, that should be it for questions," she announced, setting the tablet down on a counter, then stood from her chair. "Now we need to do the physical exam. I'll need you to undress and then put on an examination gown. They're in this cabinet here." She tapped the cabined below the counter with her tablet. "I'll come back in a few minutes to see if you're ready, alright?"

I nodded. This wasn't the time or place to worry about modesty. Hell, I didn't really know for sure, but had assumed that I would be spending a good amount of time without much of anything on, while in very intimate situations with at least a few different people. Call the project whatever you wanted, and regardless of its lofty goals, it was going to be a (controlled) orgy of sorts. If I was going to get over the fear of being seen nude, using exposure therapy with a medical professional wasn't the worst way to go about it.

"It's fine," I said before she had a chance to leave. "I'm probably going to be naked a lot pretty soon, right?" She didn't say anything, just let me finish my line of reasoning. "So, might as well start now, hm? Rip that Band-Aid off kind of."

She didn't seem to really react, but also didn't leave the room. "If you want. It's up to you, though you're right, once you're actually in the program, modesty isn't really much of a thing. It just winds up getting in the way honestly. You'll be dressing and undressing so many times a day that you'll just get tired of it."

"Sure and like, so many people here are going to wind up fucking me that they'll see me naked sooner than later anyway, right?" I think I thought that the sudden vulgarity might pop the bubble of tension that seemed to exist in the room with us, but it didn't quite seem to work. She only shrugged, with a slight head-tilt. "Well. Alright then."

I hadn't really dressed for my first day in space. If anything, really, my clothes more hid my body than anything: oversized t-shirt, slightly baggy jeans. I looked away from the (nurse? Doctor? She hadn't really said exactly what she was) and started to undress, pulling my black shirt up and off.

"Do you want me to get you a bag or something to keep your clothes in?" she offered. I glanced in her direction, and noticed that she wasn't actually looking at me either, politely averting her gaze. "If you want to keep them that is."

I didn't, and I said so. We were told we wouldn't need to bring clothes (the reason becoming more and more apparent) and I wasn't really interested in having them stored for four years. She nodded and pointed to a small panel in the wall. "You can put them in there then. It's a material recycler which will break them down to be reused."

"Oh, cool," I said, and I really thought it was, before moving closer to the wall, opening the panel, and tossing my shirt inside. It fell down a long, dark shaft, kind of like a laundry chute. Which, come to think of it, I guess it sort of was.

My jeans were next, easily slipped over my hips and shimmied down my legs. I tried to kick out of them but my shoes, sneakers of a kind I don't quite remember, got in the way. I had to tug each off before my jeans would budge, and when that all went down the chute, I was left with a black bra and panties (I loved to match back then) and white ankle socks.

"Can I at least keep the socks on?" I asked, as I reached behind my back for my bra.

"If you're worried about your feet getting cold, don't. The floors are... well I'm not sure. Heated or something. Either way they don't feel cold. Trust me, my feet always freeze, but they don't here." For a moment she looked at me, and I felt her eyes sliding over me, though in something more of an appreciating way, than anything overtly creepy.

"Oh really? Wow, alright." That was one of the most impressive things I had heard that day, including all of the mystical magical surgical alterations that the aliens were apparently capable of. They can give a guy a pussy? Yeah sure, OK that's cool but they can keep my own notoriously cold feet warm? Now that was something.

I fumbled for a second with my bra clasp, before finally getting the hooks undone. I shrugged out of the straps and had another sudden realization: that this was the last time I'd have to confine my boobs in one of those things, at least for the foreseeable future. I even shimmied my upper half a little, letting them bobble freely, enjoying their unrestricted movement. "Oh... oh I'm going to like not having to wear one of those," I said, getting a small little half-smile from her, which I considered a victory. The triumph was made only sweeter when I tossed my bra down the recycler, never to be seen again.

I decided to test the floor thing next, awkwardly lifting each foot, balancing on the other, as I slipped each sock off. Sure enough, my feet were just as warm once they touched the floor again, and I grinned in a kind of stupid wonder at the simple technology that had impressed me more than the surgical miracles I was about to undergo. I saw that she was watching me now, and my stomach did a little flip, knowing my body was fully on display for her. Well, not fully, not quite yet.

I tried, on purpose, to not make any of my next moves look sexy in any way. I didn't exaggerate any motion, didn't go any slower than I needed to, didn't intentionally give her any interesting peeks from fun angles, and yet I still felt like I was putting on something of a show as I slid my black panties down my thighs. I guess there's really no way to not strip in an interesting way, not completely, so I just did it, finally tossing underwear and socks down the recycler. I stood there then, awkwardly, fully nude, letting her look.

"Do you want a gown then or...?" she asked.

"No it's fine. Like I said." I shrugged. "So what's next?"

She gave a quick nod, then turned to the cabinets behind her, opening a drawer. "Next is the physical exam, but first, I see you have pubic hair." I did, though, try to keep it well under control and trimmed. I wasn't bare, or even really styled, but I didn't have a full-on bush either. Without even meaning to, I covered myself with my hands. "The project doesn't allow it, for hygiene reasons. We'll need to remove it completely and then also deactivate the follicles so that it can't grow back. You'll need to stay that way the whole time you're in the project. Everyone does, but after, if you decide to go back to Earth, we can turn the follicles back on if you want." She turned back to me, holding a small device, something like a very old-style electric shaver. "Would you hop up on the exam table and spread your legs?

I didn't move immediately, mentally working with the idea that this was now going from someone else seeing me nude, to someone touching me while I was nude. They are... very different ideas, especially when such a private area is involved. To her credit though, she just waited for me, patiently, not prompting or nudging. Her understanding actually helped a lot.

Finally I leaned against the exam table and pushed myself up, sitting then swinging my legs up and around, finally lying on my back. I had rarely ever had anyone down there: the men I had been with up to that point were... reluctant, even though they expected me to perform for them. Otherwise, I'd never been waxed or anything, and only my gynecologist had really been between my legs. I did know, however, that having my knees up and my legs spread would be the easiest position. Staring straight at the ceiling, I slowly opened my legs, exposing my womanhood to the room, and to her. I could feel, more than see, her moving closer to me, standing at the end of the table. I didn't, but I could have looked between my legs and seen her.

"I'm going to place the device against your inner thigh first, just so you can feel it and what it's like. It's not a razor though: there are no blades or anything sharp, so there's nothing that can cut you. It uses tiny electrical pulses to deactivate the hair follicles, then gently vibrates to get the hair to naturally fall out. The hair won't regrow until we turn the follicles back on. OK? Are you ready?" I nodded, still staring at the ceiling.

"OK I'm pressing it against your thigh, do you feel it?" I did and told her. "OK good. Now, I'm going to slowly start moving it inward toward your pubic area. Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable." I mean... it all felt uncomfortable: a strange woman with some kind of buzzing device pressed right next to my most private place. But it didn't hurt, so I didn't stop her.

"And we're just now getting to the hair and... there we go." I both heard and felt the little device buzzing. It was a kind of light, static feeling over my skin, probably the electricity as it turned my hair follicles off. It almost tickled, and I fought the urge to snap my legs shut. I could feel my body reacting to the stimulation and needed a distraction. I'm still not sure if it was a conscious choice, or just my nerves trying to pop the balloon of tension, but out of nowhere I blurted "Hey do you think you could get my legs too?"

Immediately afraid that I had been wildly inappropriate, my eyes shifted between my legs to try to read her expression. Surprisingly, she had cracked the first, genuine smile I'd seen on her. "I'll be honest, you're not the first one to ask me that," she admitted, before pulling the device back from my skin and leaning toward me a little. Her voice suddenly dropped to a conspiratorial sotto voce. "Actually, I've done my own. It's sooo much easier and nicer than a shave."

I couldn't help but to grin right back at her and at our mutual annoyance with body hair management. But she was a nurse, or... something, and not a personal groomer. "It's OK, I don't expect you to..." but she waved me off.

"I don't mind, just let me finish down here first, alright?" I nodded silently, then shut up, as she again moved the machine over my pubic area, slowly and carefully.

When that was done, she moved to my legs, straightening each, placing my ankle on her shoulder, before gently moving up and down each calf and thigh, careful to get every single spot. I almost thought she was enjoying what she was doing, and admitted silently to myself that I, in fact, was enjoying it. Just the casual, uncomplicated tough of another person, especially in a time of high nerves and uncertainty, can be calming, and that's what this was for me. I sighed, relaxed.

A few minutes later, after both legs were taken care of, the buzzing sound stopped. "Time for the physical exam," she explained, turning to put the machine away, coming back a moment later with another. Rather than a short, rounded buzzing thing, this was longer, more of a cylinder, made of a slightly pinkish plastic material. My eyes locked on it, eyebrows raised.

"So, yeah," she said, sounding as if she was admitting something she wished she didn't have to. "I'll need to use this to scan you externally... and then... internally."

"I came all the way up to an alien spaceship just to get probed?" I quipped, and again she showed that real smile.

"It doesn't get inserted rectally, so there's that at least." Which was comforting, but not as much as it could have been. "Just hold still and we'll do the external part, OK?" I nodded as she stepped next to my head, holding the device against my forehead. I shut my eyes, and she began sliding the sensor probe thing over my face and head, to either side, around my ears, over my eyes, across my mouth and nose. She trailed it down my neck and down each shoulder, all the way to my fingertips on both hands.

Once done there she returned the sensor to my chest, gliding it along my skin, down and over my breasts, circling each mound, spiraling inward to end at each of my erect nipples. Satisfied with them, she moved lower, down my chest and abdomen, across my tummy, stopping periodically. I figured she must be examining my original reproductive equipment, just to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary or would cause issues with the new ones.

After some time at my midsection, she moved down again, over my pelvis to each hip, then straight down each leg. I wasn't sure if she was trying to turn me on intentionally (probably not) but my body didn't know that, and had started reacting in ways you can imagine. When she was done with each leg, she left the side of the bed, taking the sensor with her. "I'm going to have to do the internal exam next. I'm just going to get some warm lubricating jelly to make it easier, alright?"

"I don't think... you'll need it..." I said in a breathy voice, then watched as she turned back to me, her eyes sliding down my body to my exposed and newly-hairless pussy. I didn't need to see to know that I had to be glistening with excitement and arousal. She didn't respond for a minute, only looking, as if trying to decide what to do.

"I... should uh... probably still..." she gestured to the counter behind her, "just because, you know it's procedure." I didn't argue with her, and seeing that I wasn't going to protest, she again turned, pumping a glob of clear lube onto the end of the probe.

When she came back, her eyes never met mine, instead focused on the task at hand. "I'm going to press the end against you," she described, just before doing the act. The tip of the probe was warm and seemed slightly squishy. She used it to circle my opening, probably to spread the lube around the head of the device, but with the welcome side-effect of drawing a low groan from me. To show her she was welcome to do what I thought she meant to do, I spread my legs just a little more. The invitation worked, and instead of circling, she instead pressed the tip of the probe into me.