Lila's fingers trembled against the cool glow of her laptop screen, the hum of the device filling her quiet apartment like a distant pulse. She had spent months chasing this dream through clinics and calendars, her body a battleground of negative tests and hollow reassurances from doctors who smiled too politely. Each failed attempt left her aching—not just in her womb, but in the raw, lonely space where hope once lived—until the weight of it all pressed her here, alone in the dim light, scrolling deeper into the Natural Breeding Agency's site. The pages unfolded with clinical precision: images of the padded breeding bench, its restraints gleaming under soft overhead lights, testimonials from women who had surrendered to weeks of anonymous use and emerged with swollen bellies and flushed smiles.

She paused on one entry, her breath catching as the words sank in. "I came in desperate, strapped down with nothing but my need," read a woman's account, "and by the third day, every thrust felt like it was rewriting me. The men were relentless, their cocks filling me again and again until my pussy throbbed with their seed, and I learned to crave the fullness." Lila's thighs pressed together instinctively, a flush creeping up her neck as she imagined the stretch, the heat, the surrender. Another testimonial described the steady rhythm of visitors—some gentle, others demanding—pumping load after load into her while monitors tracked her ovulation, turning clinical detachment into waves of helpless pleasure. The four-week commitment loomed like a threshold she couldn't unsee, a chance to be bound and bred until pregnancy took hold, her body no longer hers but a vessel for life.

With a shaky exhale, Lila clicked the application link, her resolve hardening even as vulnerability pooled low in her belly. This was it—the extreme path after every conventional door had closed. She typed her details with deliberate strokes, her mind racing ahead to the bench's leather straps biting into her wrists and ankles, the scent of sweat and arousal thick in the air, the way her pussy would clench around invading cocks as she gave herself over completely. The decision settled like a secret promise, igniting something fierce and alive within her.

Lila arrived at the Natural Breeding Agency three days later, her pulse quickening as the automatic doors whispered shut behind her. Dr. Elena Voss greeted her in a softly lit consultation room, the older woman's eyes kind yet assessing behind thin-framed glasses. The evaluations unfolded with clinical intimacy: blood draws that mapped her fertility cycles, a psychological interview where Lila confessed her desperation in halting whispers, and a physical exam that left her skin prickling under gloved hands. Dr. Voss explained the protocols with measured empathy, detailing how the bench would hold her in a position of total accessibility—hips elevated, thighs parted—for continuous use, with sensors monitoring ovulation and semen retention to confirm conception within the four-week window.

When the contracts were signed, Lila followed the doctor to the preparation chamber, where she shed her clothes under the cool hum of fluorescent lights. The breeding bench awaited her, its padded leather surface warmed by hidden elements, restraints lined with soft padding that would soon bite into her wrists and ankles. Strapping herself down felt like crossing a threshold; the first buckle clicked around her left wrist, sending a shiver through her core, while Dr. Voss secured the rest, adjusting the angle of her hips so her exposed pussy faced the entryway. The protocol was explained in detail as the straps tightened: men would enter at will during agency hours, some anonymous, others regulars like Marcus Hale or the dominant Elijah Cane, each free to use her as they pleased—thrusting deep into her slick heat, flooding her with thick loads of cum that would drip down her thighs between visitors. Monitors would track every pulse of her arousal, ensuring she remained receptive without interruption.

The first encounter began almost immediately after Dr. Voss dimmed the lights and stepped away, a tall stranger entering with purposeful strides. Lila's breath hitched as his hands gripped her hips,

Bound to Breed