The first choices

"Some of them are looking for traditional surrogacy arrangements, but others..." She taps the screen to show me a different section. "Others are specifically looking for natural insemination. No clinical procedures, no doctors. They want to be... bred the old-fashioned way."

My mouth goes dry as I scroll through the profiles. Each one features a photo—some modest, others more revealing—along with detailed descriptions of what the women are seeking. Many mention wanting to feel "filled" or "claimed." One profile catches my eye: a brunette with piercing green eyes who states she wants to "feel life being planted inside me."

"They all have different reasons," Angela continues, her finger tracing a pattern on my thigh. "Some can't conceive with their partners. Others are single and want children but don't want to go through the clinical process. And some..." She pauses, her voice dropping lower. "Some just want to feel what it's like to be impregnated by a virile man."

I hand the phone back to her, my mind reeling. "And you want to help me choose?"

She nods, her eyes bright with excitement. "I've already narrowed it down to a few candidates that I think would be perfect." She opens a folder on her phone labeled "Possibilities".

She selects the first profile, and the screen fills with the image of a stunning brunette with olive skin and dark, almond-shaped eyes. Her photo shows her in a simple sundress, her long hair falling in waves past her shoulders, one hand resting protectively over her flat stomach.

"Maya," Angela reads aloud. "Twenty-nine. Latina. Fertility doctor confirmed optimal for conception." She scrolls down to show me more photos—Maya in yoga poses, her body toned and lithe, her smile warm and inviting. "She's been trying to get pregnant for three years with her ex-husband. He left her when they found out the infertility was on his end."

I study the woman's face, noting the quiet determination in her eyes. In one photo, she's holding a baby—not hers, but her sister's—and the longing in her expression is unmistakable.

"She writes that she wants to feel life growing inside her more than anything," Angela continues, her voice softening. "She's not looking for a relationship—just a healthy, potent donor and the chance to carry a child." She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. "She specifically mentions wanting the biological father to be involved during the pregnancy, if possible."

The next profile photo shows a woman with dark, almost black hair falling in loose waves past her shoulders. Her eyes are a striking amber, wide and honest, framed by thick lashes. She has full lips, slightly parted, and a slender neck that leads down to a body that's all soft curves—generous breasts, a narrow waist flaring into wide, childbearing hips. In the photo, she's wearing a simple sundress that does little to hide her figure.

I scroll down to read her profile.

"I've always known I was meant to be a mother. The doctors say I'm perfectly fertile—I've been tracking my cycles for years, and everything is regular and healthy. I want to feel life growing inside me, to know that a strong, virile man chose me to carry his legacy. I'm not looking for romance—I'm looking for purpose. For the feeling of being filled and claimed and made whole. I want to feel the moment of conception, to know exactly when I become a vessel for new life. I want to be bred with intention, not by accident. I want to look into the eyes of the man who puts his child in me and know that he sees me as worthy."