Assess the damage.

The ring of the ruined condom rolls off of you easily enough, leaving you with an angry-looking neighbor who's snapping on latex gloves, a dazed hooked with a weak fountain of jizz pouring onto your cheap couch, and your own, selfish fears. The condom broke inside some street walker with a fake name. What if you picked up a VD? What if you just got her pregnant? Those basic concerns slowly get replaced with wonder over just how much seed fell out of her. Nutmeg, the calmest one in the room, just sinks forward until her head is resting against the back support, her eyes closed as she gurgles happily. Maybe Devi was right all along, no sarcasm, no exaggeration of effects... what the Hell did you spunk into this "Nutmeg"?!

Devi, who has no appreciation for how bizarre and hot this is, walks over and confuses you with a tiny flashlight she's holding between her teeth, temporarily blinding you when she meets your gaze. The scientist takes a knee in front of Nutmeg, spreads her legs even further, and starts fishing into the whore's cunt like she lost a watch in there, shining the light down that well-traveled tunnel. She talks awkwardly with the flashlight still in her mouth. "I dohn't hab the proper toolsh, sho I'll just..." Her eyes go wide as she continues to ignore how stupefied you are at the moment. She lets the girl go and carefully plucks flashlight out of her mouth, avoiding any contact of her stickier fingers with her own lips. "There's still... more, coming out of the uterus. The cervix is dilated and appears to be soft, suggesting a state of ovulation... it also looks irritated, but I suspect I know why."

She shoots you a condemning look. Snapping out of your post-orgasm daze, you raise your hands defensively, matching the posture of your still-hard cock. "I-I used a condom! I didn't know that it would..."

"This was the first orgasm?" You nod, and at last it's her turn to look dumbstruck. "Do you normally ejaculate this much?" You look to where she points... first to the growing puddle on your faux wood floor, and then to the still-leaking hooker. There was also whatever got absorbed into the couch. You aren't familiar enough to know what nine ounces, not including whatever was still "in" Nutmeg, looks like, but you do know well enough that you don't normally come this much in a week, nevermind a single volley.

You shake your head, and begin to receive a full lecture from Devi on the new and old lessons you need to know from now on. You listen to her drone on for minutes, putting away your cock that, despite the presence of a naked, apparently satiated prostitute, softens under Devi's verbal ****. You nod your head while looking around the apartment, trying to distract yourself. Your nose gets tickled by some... thing in the apartment, a kind of bodily scent that comes and goes. An odorless scent. You must be tired. You ignore it along with Devi, eager to reach the end of her lecture or the regained consciousness of the stupefied hooker-

PREGNANT.

A scent of honey. A most pale pink. An elated feeling of accomplishment. What? You blink as you stare at the crappy wall art you hung a year ago, and try to understand this strange sensation. It rung inside your nervous system, crawling up your spine and filling your mind with a "knowing": the girl next to you was pregnant with an egg you fertilized.

You must be freaking out-

OVULATING.

A pale pink but less so, with the scent of an aroused cunt. Opportunity. Again that single "sense" translates like forked lightning across your regular senses... and you finally turn to Devi with the new sensory input, and see her womb without seeing it, the ovum that has almost escaped the Fallopian tube on its journey into the largest chamber of her uterus. A target. You look now to Nutmeg with this sense (PREGNANT) and see something entirely different: a fertilized egg, though how you can tell the difference is something tied to this unnatural knowing, and the blood barrier of her womb taking it in and beginning to host your young. You see a stream that connects the fertilized egg to the mother... and through it, produced by the egg at some alarming pace, is a stream of color. Your color. It rapidly deploys throughout her lower regions and echoes into her bloodstream, reaching the heart and- You close your "sense" before it overpowers you. You're hard again, though you aren't sure why.

"Devi..."

"Please stop staring at her while I'm talking-"

"Devi!" You meet her gaze, and a bit of worry enters her stance when she sees how freaked out you are. "I can... I can see- KNOW it. She's pregnant."

"While the circumstances-"

"You're ovulating," you state bluntly. Well, that might be the first time you've had to say that word aloud since Crystal (if that was her real name) scared the shit out of you, so many years ago.

Devi seems equally surprised, but quickly upgrades to offended. "My menstrual cycle is none of your... more importantly, how did you-"

"Devi! Listen to-"

"Derek! I'm seri-"

"Master!"

You both stop. You both turn slowly to Nutmeg, whose rubbing her soiled labia while staring at you with tears in her eyes. "I'm so happy, Master!"