From: drwho@world.std.com (Patrick Donovan)
Subject: PATRICK DONOVAN: "The Evil of Hammond House" (4/5)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
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DISCLAIMER: UNDER 18? DO NOT READ! STOP HERE!
* Intro *
These stories generally depict consenting relationships between mature, loving people. These are fantasy people who don't have to worry about pregnancy or STDs (herpes, HIV, etc.), that's why they don't always use protection. Don't construe this as tacit permission to do the same. Use your heads and use protection--if not for yourself, for your partners.
And now, on with the show...
8<------------
"Resurrection of the Lost"
Angela's eyes fluttered open several hours later. She was very
weak, her muscles feeling like lead. It took her several minutes to be
able to focus her eyes and even longer before she could attempt to sit
up. Once she accomplished that, she started to take in her
surroundings. She was in what looked like a hospital room, though one
without a window. She had been laying in a standard hospital bed and
was dressed in a hospital gown. She was nude underneath.
What had happened? Had she been rescued from -- from what?
Then the memories came flooding back to her, carried on a wave of grief
and shock and horror. Robert's body and the bed covered in blood. The
arrow through Carl's head, his abdomen and groin caked in drying brown
gunk. Brenda, Lisa and ... oh God, Mark! Tears came gushing out of
Angela's eyes as she remembered his body twisting, then crashing into
the glass. The slow-motion replay of his fall out the window hammered
at her emotions. She grabbed her head and shook it, willing the image
to stop, but she only managed to push it into the background. She had
to do something to keep herself occupied, so she tried to stand up. Her
legs almost gave out when she got her feet on the floor, but after a few
moments of disorientation she was able to start walking. As she moved
around, trying to get her circulation going again, Angela realized that
the room lacked a lot of the accommodations and features of a proper
hospital room, so she was pretty certain she was still in the mansion,
or at least still in the hands of that bastard, Hammond.
There was a door ahead of her and one on her right, which led to
a bathroom. Realizing she hadn't peed for quite a long time and that
she desperately needed to, Angela took advantage of that door. She sat
down on the stool and tried not to think of anything as she relieved
herself of at least one annoying problem. Feeling much better she stood
up, but caught herself just before flushing the toilet, realizing that
the sound of the water flowing through the pipes and the typical
high-pitched whine of the tank refilling might alert her captor that she
was awake. After she finished, Angela decided to look for her clothes
and other articles, just in case he had left them, but no such luck.
The closet was empty: no clothes, no bags and, of course, no stun gun.
Hammond was insane, but he wasn't stupid. God what she wouldn't have
given for at least a pair of panties. She didn't feel like tackling a
mad scientist in her birthday suit and what amounted to a paper apron.
Despite her fear that Hammond might have locked her in, the door
opened without resistance. Angela looked around carefully before
stepping out. It definitely wasn't a proper hospital. None she had
ever been in had a patient room attached directly to the operating
theater. That would tend to disconcert the patient. The room contained
several tables and two examination benches, one of which seemed to have
been set up for a gynecological exam. A horrible thought crossed
Angela's mind.
"What did he do to me while I was unconscious?" she whispered to
herself.
Her hand went instinctively to her sex and she probed herself
carefully. She had felt a little sore when she went to the bathroom,
but she thought that was because of her lovemaking with Mark earlier in
the morning (she tried not to bring up the memories just then, but it
was very difficult). Perhaps it was something else. There was
something of a dull ache further up inside her body, like what she might
have experienced from a pelvic exam. Had Hammond taken a pap smear or
had he done something worse? Had he raped her? No, a rapist would want
his victim awake so he could experience her terror. What had he done to
her? Panic began to rear its head, but Angela fought to keep it down.
She went on to explore the room and hopefully find a way out.
On one wall of the room was a large window, which seemed to
offer a view of the operating room from some kind of control center,
like in a TV or music studio. It didn't seem like a standard operating
room observation area because that would be up on the second floor. The
'control' room was full of monitors and computer terminals and Angela
wondered about something, so she looked around the operating room. Yes,
there were a number of cameras placed around the walls, as well as some
free-standing ones on tripods in one corner. Angela shuddered to think
that Hammond might be watching her at that very moment, though, of
course, there was no one in the control area.
The far side of the room seemed to double as a lab, with
numerous pieces of equipment for testing and analyzing samples. There
was a high-power Macintosh on one table and displayed on its screen was
a 3D-like graphic of Angela's nude body! Horrified she seized the mouse
and rotated the image. It showed her body in very graphic detail, down
to the scar on her stomach from her appendectomy fifteen years earlier.
It also showed, much to her disgust, a graphic representation of her sex
organs.
It was as if Hammond had placed a camera inside her vagina and
scanned her birth canal all the way up to her cervix. But when the
travelogue of her genitals passed *into* her womb, Angela's disgust
turned to fascinated revulsion. That bastard had used one of those
micro-video probes to enter her uterus! Her hand went to her groin,
clutching the area just above her pubic hair, and she shuddered at the
thought of that device being inside her. The image showed the wrinkled
walls of her womb and even ventured part way down both fallopian tubes.
While the thought of having been invaded in such a way outraged her,
Angela also found herself intrigued by the beauty of her reproductive
system. Perhaps it was tied back to her pregnancy fantasy with Mark,
but there was something arousing about seeing the forming place of her
potential children. The memory of Mark brought her back to reality and
Angela looked in the computer for more information about what Dr.
Hammond was up to.
Within a minute she found another part of the answer: a series
of reports about her health. Most of them, she realized, were from her
personal physician back at school. Hammond must have gotten them from
Dr. Yates at University Hospital over the InterNet. Highlighted in red,
apparently by Hammond, were the results of her latest blood screen, as
well as those of the pelvic exam and HIV and Hepatitis B & C tests she
had had done only a month before. There was also a note appended to the
last report that read:
Thank you for your inquiry concerning Angela Smith. I
agree, she has all the skills needed for a good hospital
nurse, as well as the compassion and discretion required
by such an environment. Since you were able to provide
a confidentiality-release statement from Miss Smith, I
am forwarding to you a copy of her Mental Health
Assessment. As you can see, Angela has no record of any
kind of mental illness and the Nursing Review Committee
recently found her to be competent and emotionally
suitable for her line of work. I personally find her to
be charming and an eager worker who strives beyond the
requirements of her duties.
I wasn't aware that Angela had applied to MedPark, but
she certainly deserves to work in such a prestigious
medical facility. I hope you can offer her a position.
If I can be of any further assistance, Dr. Burgoyne,
please feel free to contact me.
Sincerely yours,
E. B. Yates, MD
ECS University Hospital
What was this madman up to? Why was he so interested in her
medical and psych profiles?
One last file turned up. It seemed to be the results of tests
Hammond performed on her while she was unconscious:
"Good thing Mark used a condom last night," she said to herself,
then regretted it.
Angela stood up. She had to find a way out of this place. She
spotted a door to the left of the lab area and passed into what looked
like a storage area. There didn't seem any other way out of it, but she
seemed drawn to a large metal door with a pull handle on it. There was
a window, which she peered into. It was a refrigerated storage area,
but the evidence of that isn't what caught Angela's attention. It was
the two gurnies left side by side in the middle of the room that did.
They were both covered by sheets, but it was obvious that there was
something underneath those sheets. A voice inside her head told her not
to go in there. It was Mark's voice, trying to protect her even in
death, but she had to go in. She had to know.
The door pulled open and a rush of mist and cool air hit Angela
in the face. She left the door open and walked toward the gurnies. Her
gown did nothing to protect her from the cold and she shivered. Her
nipples stiffened in the chill air and her feet felt like ice.
Suddenly, much sooner than she wanted to be, she was standing next to
the left-hand table. Now she could see greater confirmation of what she
hadn't wanted to believe. There were bodies underneath those sheets and
they were, by obvious evidence, female bodies. The one she was next to
seemed to be greatly endowed compared to the other, which made her next
move only slightly less difficult. She lifted the sheet.
It was Lisa.
Angela stifled a cry as she saw the large, circular wound
between her friend's once attractive breasts, the same ones she had seen
moving sensually the night before when Lisa had been offered to her by
Carl for a night of passion and experimentation. Part of Angela
regretted not taking the opportunity to express her feelings for Lisa
because now it was too late. The cold air made it difficult for any
tears to form, but Angela was no less grieved by the senselessness of
her friend's death. She reached out and took Lisa's cold and stiffening
right hand, squeezing as she had done the night before, hoping that the
beautiful young blonde would understand her sorrow, wherever she was
now.
Angela's eyes fell on the next gurney, the next body. She tried
so hard to steel herself for the moment, but nothing could prepare her
for the grief that overwhelmed her when she threw back the sheet
covering the corpse of her best friend, Brenda Xu. Until the very
moment she saw her face, Angela had hoped that Hammond's words the night
before, about having her two friends, might have at least held hope for
Brenda. Obviously they were more important to his purposes dead.
The sight of Bren's dead eyes and the horrible, deep slit across
her throat, revealing the open ends of blood vessels and her windpipe,
made Angela so sick she couldn't fight off the wave of nausea that swept
over her. She turned away and doubled over, heaving and crying, but not
managing to purge much of anything. It had been too long since she had
eaten.
After a few minutes of fighting off the grief and trying to
compose herself again, Angela turned back to the body and took the left
hand. It was cold, but not as stiff as Lisa's had been. She held and
caressed it, looking into the beautiful almond eyes that she had been so
fond of, eyes that had been so full of life and happiness, love and
wisdom. Tears now rolled from Angela's chin and fell on Brenda's
breasts. She leaned over, caressing her roommate's hair, and softly
kissed her cold forehead.
"I love you, Bren," she whispered and then rested her cheek
against Brenda's.
Angela stood up a few moments later, not wanting to let go of
the hand, but forcing herself to. She placed the arm back at Brenda's
side, took one long look at her and then faced the door.
"I'll get you for this, Dr. Hammond. I swear to God that you
won't get away with taking everything I loved away from me."
As she reached down to pull the sheet back over the body, Angela
noticed a small cut on Brenda's lower abdomen, just a little ways above
and to the right of her pubic mound. She had never seen it before and,
upon closer examination, she figured that it was recent for there wasn't
any sign of healing. I must have been made after she died. Curious
about this, she walked back to Lisa's body and pulled the sheet down to
reveal her matted, golden triangle. There was a cut identical to the
one on Brenda's body in the same relative place. Trying to remain
objective and pushing down her emotions, Angela bent over to look more
closely at the incision. The mystery only seemed to deepen as she began
to realize the significance of the location.
"What is he doing it for?" she asked herself aloud.
"Perhaps you should ask me, Miss Smith. I might surprise you
with an answer."
Angela whirled around to see Hammond, out of his 'masked killer'
get-up and dressed in a white lab coat. His eyes fell upon her with a
tenderness like she had seen the night before when he tended her injury.
It was such a jarring contrast to the kind of person she knew him to be.
Her emotions were all in turmoil, now that she was confronted with him.
Her chance for escape was gone, but at the same time here was her chance
for revenge.
"The only thing I want to know, Dr. Hammond, is how you justify
killing people. What possible reason could you have for doing something
so horrible," her voice choked and grew louder as she pointed towards
Brenda's still form, "to someone so special. Someone who never did you
any harm? HOW COULD YOU?"
The doctor moved towards her slowly, but Angela backed off,
moving around beside Brenda's body.
"I know you won't understand, Miss Smith, but I want you to.
This isn't the place to discuss it. Please, come with me."
Angela was incredulous. He was talking to her as if she weren't
standing over the body of her best friend, whom *he* had murdered.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. You're evil and I don't want
any part in your work. Whatever it is you're doing here it's monstrous.
Why do you have all that information about me in your computer?"
Hammond looked passive, no sign of malevolence at all.
"I needed to make sure you were in good health. All your
reports show that you are and that your family has very little history
of physical or mental illness. You're intelligent and have a strong
personality. Dealing with all this," he waved his hand around to
indicate the girls' bodies, "has been proof of that. Those and ...
other factors make you the perfect candidate for my work. I need you,
Miss Smith."
The explanation, of course, was insufficient for Angela and only
raised more questions, but maybe she could keep him talking until an
opportunity to escape or, if Justice was with her, to kill him came
along.
"Look, I know this has something to do with your wife, or
whoever the older woman in that painting in the living room is."
Hammond's eyebrows raised. His estimation of her went up a few
points.
"Was. Yes, that was my wife, Margaret. You're really very
perceptive, Miss Smith. You're quite a bit like her in a lot of ways,
not just appearance. But this isn't so much about her as it is about
Stacy."
"Who? The girl? Was that your daughter?"
"Yes." He was silent for a moment. "She was killed when she
was eighteen. My wife died the following year of breast cancer. I've
been alone ever since."
Angela, despite her fear and anger, was becoming interested in
the doctor's story.
"How did your daughter die, Dr. Hammond?" She tried to sound
assertive and in control.
"She was -- she was a freshman at university and she was dating
a medical student named Hickman. He was a highly-respected and talented
student. I knew him and thought he was a kind, compassionate man. An
ideal doctor. Then, in one night, he proved my judgment wrong and
destroyed my entire life." Tears began to come to his eyes. "He got
drunk at a Christmas party and went to my daughter's apartment,
demanding sex. When she tried to calm him down and get him to sleep it
off, he beat and raped her. She died three days later from internal
bleeding and infection."
Angela watched as he contained his tears and repressed his
anger. Now she knew what he had meant the night before about college
men and alcohol. He saw Mark, Robert and Carl as the same kind of men
as the one who had killed his daughter. This only made her angrier.
"Mark was right last night when he told you the others weren't
like that. They were good people, especially Mark. I finally realized
last night that I had loved him all these years and then you killed
him!"
He looked genuinely hurt.
"I'm sorry this has caused you such pain, Miss Smith, truly I
am, but I needed you to feel my pain so you would understand why I must
do this."
Hammond withdrew a syringe from his pocket, pulled the cap off,
flicked the cylinder a few times with his finger and tested the stream,
then he moved toward her. Angela tried to put the gurney with Brenda's
body on it between them, but it wouldn`t move. The wheels had been
locked down. Hammond rushed around the side, but she ran the other way
and headed for the door. Unfortunately, the doctor had closed it and
she was struggling to get it open again when he ran into her, trapping
her against it.
Angela fought hard against him, but he was pressing his weight
into her back, pinning her chest to the door. With his right hand he
lowered the syringe and plunged the needle into her right buttock. She
yelped and kicked her feet, but he managed to press the plunger and
inject the fluid into her before she could dislodged it, then he let her
go.
"Bastard! What have you done to me?" she yelled, trying to open
the door.
"You need to rest, Miss Smith. I still have to prepare some
things before the procedure this afternoon."
"What procedure?" she asked, beginning to tire from grappling
with the door.
"I'll explain it all later, I promise."
Angela felt herself growing weary, her muscles weakening. She
was beginning to lose her self-control and tears started to flow down
her cheeks. Soon she was crying in great choking sobs.
"Brenda, I'm sorry. Forgive me. I couldn't stop him," and she
slid to the floor and began to lose consciousness.
"Mark, help me," she whispered and then everything went black.
Angela was floating above a bed. A hospital bed. Laying in the
bed was a young woman. She looked familiar. Sound flooded her ears and
suddenly a man and woman were beside the bed, the woman's head was
buried against the young woman's chest, she was sobbing. The man just
stood there, his hand on his wife's back, a far-away look in his eyes.
The young woman was dead and the man was angry. He looked familiar.
The scene shifted. Angela was nude, laying in a large,
comfortable bed. It was dark and someone was in the bed with her. A
hand began to caress her. She felt safe. A man's body moved against
her and she felt a hairy chest pressing against her bare breasts. She
was being rolled onto her back and the man was on top of her, sliding
his huge penis inside her. She felt pleasure. The man was moving,
Angela was moving, the bed was shaking. They were kissing, they were
moaning, they were making love. She felt joy. The man thrust himself
deep into her body and climaxed over and over again. She sensed it,
bursting inside her like a tidal wave. She felt love. The man's
ejaculation ceased, his sperm began their journey, entering her womb and
searching, searching. An egg was found, penetrated, it divided and
grew. She felt whole.
The scene shifted. Angela was laying on a table, her eyes
closed, trying to ignore the pain. She bore down hard one last time and
felt something give. There seemed to be a lot of motion going on around
her, though she couldn't see anything. Suddenly there was a slapping
sound, followed by the wail of an infant, then someone placed a moving
bundle in her arms. It was a baby, still wet from birth, and it was
crying. No, *she* was crying. It was a girl, Angela knew it was.
The scene shifted. Angela was back in her apartment at school,
sitting in a rocking chair with the baby in her arms. She was wearing
her bathrobe, the one Brenda had brought her from Hong Kong, and it was
open for the baby to suckle on her milk-swollen breast. Everything
seemed peaceful, but she felt like something was missing. Like
*someone* was missing.
Dr. Hammond was carrying a piece of equipment over to the main
exam table when Angela began to come to. He stopped what he was doing,
went over to a side table and poured a glass of water. He brought it
over to Angela and held it to her mouth while she drank thirstily from
it. Surprisingly, she thanked him when she finished it.
"You were out for several hours. That particular tranquilizer
dries out the mouth severely, so I was prepared for you to be very
thirsty. Let me know if you want any more."
He returned to his work with the equipment and she started to
take in her new situation. She was on the examination table that had
been set up for a pelvic exam earlier. It was tilted up a little bit,
so she could get a view of herself, naked except for the restraints.
She was strapped to the table by a piece of flexible but strong fabric
across her breasts and upper arms. Her forearms were loose, though her
wrists bore handcuff-like restraints with long cables attached to the
table. She could move them pretty freely, just not very far. There was
another band of the fabric across her abdomen, just above her pubic
hair, but there were no other restraints. Her legs were free, though
currently resting in the leg braces used for pelvic exams and delivering
babies. Despite her captive situation, it seemed as though the doctor
had every interest in making her comfortable.
Angela also noticed there were several leads and sensors in
place on her body. Some were attached to contacts that went through the
cloth restraints, others were directly on her skin, including a few in
the genital area. All the wires seemed to run into a patch bay beside
the table and a large cable connected the patch bay to a plug on the
wall underneath the control room window. It appeared as though Dr.
Hammond was going to monitor whatever procedure he was planning from
there. Angela felt as though she should be completely terrified about
whatever he was going to do to her, but maybe the shock of everything
that had happened in the last twenty-four hours was finally consuming
her. Or maybe she was just too tired to fight it anymore.
Dr. Hammond seemed preoccupied with setting up the current piece
of machinery. Standing vertical, it was triangular in shape (with a
side at the top), but the lower three-quarters of it were bent out at a
forty-five degree angle. The whole thing was about the size of a large
briefcase. The doctor was currently mounting it to a sturdy metal pipe
that ran from the floor to the ceiling. Several observation lights were
C-clamped to the same pole. Once the device was secured, he moved
behind Angela and began to adjust the exam table's position. When he
was finished, the angled tip of the device was pointed right between her
thighs.
"You promised to give me an explanation. I figure I ought to
know before you dissect me or whatever it is you're going to do to me."
She was amazingly calm.
The doctor finished hooking cables from the device to the patch
bay and turned the unit on. It hummed softly and lights on it blinked
on and off.
"I had hoped you would realize by now, Miss Smith, that I have
no intention of hurting you."
She sighed. Yes, she had figured that out, but it didn't lessen
her anger at the other things he had done.
"I just find it hard to believe that someone who professes to be
a doctor and is compassionate to me could also be capable of murdering
five innocent people."
He stopped for a moment, then went on into the control room.
After about five minutes of checking instruments and readouts, Dr.
Hammond returned with two small vials, one was about half-an-inch long,
the other looked to be about four times that size. The larger one
contained a clear, viscous substance and the smaller one held a
pinkish-red fluid. The doctor set these on the side table and opened an
access panel on the triangular device. He started making adjustments.
"When my daughter died," he began, "I managed to obtain a small
sample of tissue from her stomach. I immediately preserved the tissue
in order to keep too many of the cells from dying. I have since been
researching and gathering data on cloning. I knew that, if I could
replace the nucleus of an ovum with the nucleus from one of my
daughter's cells, I could impregnate a woman with the modified egg and
she would give birth to a baby identical to my Stacy. Sadly my wife was
to old to bear another child and, since human cloning experiments are
illegal, using a surrogate mother posed problems. So I had to try and
arrange for a 'private' procedure. Unfortunately my wife unexpectedly
developed breast cancer and died before I could make the arrangements.
After that, well, it seemed pointless to continue. Part of my
motivation was for my wife, because she missed Stacy so. I abandoned
the plan several years ago and secluded myself here at Hammond House,
never thinking of it again."
"Until last night," finished Angela.
"Until you arrived, yes. The first thing I did last night after
seeing you to your rooms was to open up this room again -- we're in a
secret room off the basement of the house -- and check on the viability
of Stacy's cells. Enough of them were intact to make an attempt, but I
needed ova to prepare them for use."
Now she had the answer to another mystery. "That's why you cut
into Lisa and Brenda's ovaries. To harvest the eggs."
"Again you prove yourself to be a very talented person, Miss
Smith. Well-spotted. They provided me with enough viable ova to make a
number of attempts."
Then Angela let loose. "SO WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL THEM?! Why
didn't you just use my eggs?"
He rounded on her. "Because I couldn't afford to have
witnesses. Your friends would have stayed around until your
disappearance was explained. I had to get rid of them. I couldn't risk
being discovered until the baby was born."
"Did it even occur to you to just *ask* me?" she responded,
forcing back the tears.
Dr. Hammond seemed thrown off by that question and it took him a
moment to formulate a reply. "No, it never occurred to me. I wouldn't
expect most women your age to drop everything to have a baby, especially
one in this kind of circumstance. Stacy's cells wouldn't be viable for
much longer and I had to act."
Angela kept her voice calm. "Believe it or not, Dr. Hammond,
last night I was thinking a lot about having a baby. You could have
saved yourself a lot of trouble if you had just asked instead of acting
out of fear and impatience. Five people are dead because of your fear
of being discovered. Now you'll be going to prison and you'll never see
your Stacy."
The doctor made his last checks on the machine and closed the
access panel. He picked up the vials from the side table.
"Once the baby is born, it won't matter. I don't care what
happens to me, just so long as Stacy is born."
This surprised Angela, throwing her off guard for a change.
"I don't understand."
Hammond looked at her. "What happens to me is of no
consequence. I only want Stacy to live and grow and be loved by a good
family. I don't want her to know about me, about what I became to try
and make her live again. I realized long ago that I had turned away
from what I had been when she was born. I just want her to live and
have the life that was taken from her."
Angela found herself considering his words. She was still angry
and resented him, and yet part of her sympathized with his pain and
wanted to help. They could both get what they wanted. But how could
she live with the reminder of his deeds growing in her womb?
"You aren't worried that I'll have a problem dealing with the
memories of this place and what you've done? Take it out on the baby?"
He shook his head. "You're a strong woman, Miss Smith. You're
too sensible and logical. You'd know it wasn't her fault. You'd love
her and treat her with respect. It simply isn't in your nature to hold
a grudge."
He was right. Even now, the idea of having her dream of being a
mother fulfilled was appealing to her. And, of course, she really had
no choice in the matter. She was his captive and she wasn't in any
position to fight him right now. She would have to worry about escape
and, if necessary, abortion later on. Besides, she could always claim
the baby was Mark's and, maybe, she could eventually convince herself
that it was the truth.
Angela debated the issue a few more times, but always came to
the same conclusion: there wasn't anything she could do right now and
he *wasn't* threatening her life. There was no point in resisting.
"I realize that I don't have any say in the matter, but for what
it's worth, I've decided not to resist."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"Don't get me wrong, though, doctor," she growled assertively,
"I hate you for everything you've done to me and I will kill you if I
get the opportunity. I can never forgive you for what you've taken away
from me."
He handed her the vials. "Fair enough," he said.
Angela turned the glass cylinders over in her hands. They had
rubber caps on one end so the contents could be extracted with a needle,
just like a standard medicine bottle.
"What are they?" she asked.
"The small one with the red fluid contains the modified ovum
which will be injected directly into your uterus. The fluid itself is a
nutrient solution that will be absorbed into the endometrial layer of
your uterine wall. That should increase the egg's chances of survival
dramatically."
Angela looked at the small vial with awe. Inside that
suspension was a fertilized ovum, just waiting to be implanted in her
body. How many woman could have experienced the feeling of holding
their child before it had born? She felt something stir inside her.
Was she really ready to do this? Again, she reminded herself, she
didn't have much of a choice at the moment.
"The larger vial," continued Dr. Hammond, "contains an inert
protein suspension, with some antiseptic qualities, that will be
injected into your vagina. A small amount will be released before the
procedure begins its third phase, the rest will be released during
Phase Five. It will help keep your upper birth canal and cervix
sterilized during and after the procedure, to prevent infection from
setting in. It also provides effect."
"Effect?"
He took the vials from her hand and carried them to the
triangular apparatus. "This device will inject the ovum into you." He
flipped a switch and a cylinder protruded from the front of the angled
part of the device. It looked very much like a slim-line vibrator, but
had a small nozzle on the end. "I could simply have impregnated you
with standard laboratory techniques, but I wanted the woman who was
going to give re-birth to my Stacy to have a special experience, so I
built this device to act as a surrogate father and deliver the egg to
the uterus."
He took the small vial and plugged it into a socket on the panel
of the machine. "During the machine's operation a thin tube will pass
through your cervix and into your uterus." He saw her wince. "Don't
worry, the device will coat the tube with a local anesthetic before the
it passes through. I assure you, there will very little, if any, pain.
In fact, I think it will be a very sensual experience for you."
Well, she thought, at least I'll be getting something more than
nine months hard labor out of this.
"At a specific point the machine will inject the ovum and
nutrient solution into your womb, where we hope the egg will embed
itself in your uterine wall. At the same time," he plugged the larger
vial into another socket, "the machine will inject the remaining
sterilizing protein suspension, warmed up to body temperature, into your
vagina. The effect is also to simulate ejaculation."
The idea seemed simple enough to Angela, though Hammond made it
seem convoluted and unromantic. But she still had some questions.
"What if the egg doesn't implant?"
"I have enough ova to try for several months. They'll stay
frozen until we need them. I only wish the tissue sample from Stacy
could have been preserved so well, but the nuclei were breaking down.
Probably because I had neglected them for so long."
"Well, I hope it works right the first time, doctor." She took
a deep breath. "I'm ready."
"All right, Miss Smith," he replied and went to the door. He
turned out most of the lights and dimmed the rest, leaving the room in a
dim glow, very much like the glow from the fireplace when she and Mark
had made love that morning. Mark...
He returned and checked the sensors that were attached to
Angela's groin. Then he took a tube of K-Y Jelly from the side-table
and opened it, smearing some of it on the probe at the front of the
impregnating apparatus and some he applied, giving her his apologies, to
her labia and inside her vagina. It wasn't any thrill to her to be
touched by him. In fact, it was probably worse than her last pelvic
exam.
When he finished Dr. Hammond walked to Angela's right side, put
his arm across her chest and leaned down to her ear. "I know how you
feel about me, but please let me say, from the part of me that was
Stacy's father, how grateful I am that you're doing this willingly now.
Thank you, Angela." Then he tried to kiss her on the forehead, but she
turned away from him. He stood up, shook his head in understanding and
walked towards the control booth.
"Doctor," she called after him.
"Yes, Miss Smith?"
"I don't want you watching me."
"Only on the readouts and the video probe. The room cameras
will be off and I will be too busy monitoring the machine to look out
the window. I knew you would want to keep this a private thing, Miss
Smith. I will do my best to respect that."
He left the operating room and entered the control booth,
turning out the booth's lights and switching on all the controls. He
was ready.
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