You get ready for another busy day.

You get home relatively early from work, as you have less responsibility now with the CDC running most of the process. Now you go in and give samples of blood a couple of times a week, and a couple of times a day you give them semen for the artificial inseminations which are taking place.

You have a nice dinner with your daughter and Joy, the beautiful young intern who moved in with you.

After dinner you watch a movie with the two young women, and they sit on either side of you. You have had sex quite often with your daughter, but not Joy. Kira asked you to just be with her at home, and you have.

Both girls seem to be aroused, and you can sense it on Kira, and she leans in and whispers in your ear, “doesn’t Joy look beautiful tonight? I think she may be lonely dad...”

You look at her, and she nods her head, approving of what you are thinking.

One thing rapidly leads to another, and before you know it, you have two beautiful young women sucking your cock.

You think this is what Kira was asking for, in dealing with Joy’s loneliness, and you give it your best shot.

The two girls focus on you for the most part, although they do play with each other at times. You didn’t expect this to happen tonight, but then not much about life right now is going as expected. You enjoy a really nice threesome.

When you cum, you let the girls share it, cumming in your daughter Kira’s mouth, and then in Joys as well. The two of them check another box off of your sexual fantasy bucket list as they kiss with your cum in their mouths.

You fall into a relaxed sleep with Kira and Joy in your arms, and wake up refreshed. You have slept better since things changed with Kira, now that her hunger is no longer keeping her up and night, Joy has commented on this as well. She enjoys the sex, but she has loved being free of the addiction to semen that had so much control over her body before.

You wake up to your phone ringing, and you are surprised to see it is Jay Z, and he is jubilant. He lets you know that Beyoncé slept for hours in your lab, and is now sleeping again at their hotel. This is the first time in a long time that the hunger did not prevent her from sleeping soundly.

“My man, she woke up smiling and happy, she was loving again, she said she doesn’t feel the urges anymore...”

He lets you know they are moving into a hotel nearby and are having their kids brought to them while they find a place near your house.

Kira loves Beyoncé, she adores her. Beyoncé’s music has been her favorite for years.

You wonder if can set up a way for your daughter to meet her, but that will have to wait. On to business.

You get into the lab for your morning donation, it seems that with an improved and faster method of delivering your sperm to the many patients at your lab, that your rate of success with impregnating patients has improved.

That is very good news, but they always want more semen from you, you get a bit tired of cumming in a cup. You mention this in a joking manner during the mid-morning conference call you have with the full team and the White House, and you get a text later from the President promising to help.

“You are serving your country doc, we will try to help.”

About two hours later a few agents enter and show CIA credentials, three stunningly beautiful female agents. You meet with them privately and they tell you that you are their assignment.

They are willing to do what it takes for their country, and the President asked them to make your daily donations less boring.

It is never less than two of them at a time, and there is occasional sex involved, but they use warming oils to make you more comfortable. You get a variety of handjobs, blowjobs, and tittyfucks, and while you think this is an odd use of trained agents, nothing could surprise you at this point.

They let you fuck them, as long as you cum in the cup. They also go at it with each other, to give you a nice visual. They confide that they are operatives, women trained to use their beauty to further US interests, and you are the job right now.

Later in the afternoon, you get word that Mandy Moore is going to be on site as scheduled, and you go and get cleaned up.

You wait in the same private room you used with Beyoncé, close to the back and providing privacy and discretion for the celebrities it was designed for.

You hadn’t seen much of Mandy Moore since she was younger, but when she walks in you recognize her, and she is beautiful.

She is taller than you thought she would be, and has a better body than you expected, but she does seem to be a bit out of it. Like so many of the patients you see, she seems to be tired.

One side effect is a limited ability to sleep, and it catches up to everyone when they can’t get enough rest.

Mandy looks a bit shaken, and it isn’t just the sleep. “Good morning Mrs. Moore,” you say, hoping to calm her. “Other than the obvious, is something wrong? Do we need to reschedule?”

“No, this can’t wait doctor,” she replies, her face showing her distress. “I hoped that I could have kids with my husband Taylor, we had begun trying before this thing started.”

“I wanted my children to be his.”

You don’t know much about her, but she seems to be a private person, and maybe some personal faith is involved in wanting her kids to be with her husband. You consider such concepts to be a bit outdated in the new time you were in, the time of this disease.

You hold her hand, you didn’t want this part to be traumatic for the women involved, any more than it already was at least. You consider their point of view.

Stricken with a diseases that can be fatal, that causes loss of control and wild sexual urges, which is treated by swallowing the cum of strangers working in the donor program, or worse yet taking the treatments anally.

With Mandy being in stage 2, you guessed that some of her treatments were probably suppositories. Some women didn’t like anal sex, and this was unprotected anal sex with strangers.

Now there was an experimental treatment, but it involved pregnancy, and with a stranger. For some in an advanced state, they might feel helpless, with **** but to carry the child of a stranger to live.

“Will this work? We have been trying but we haven’t conceived,” she asks you. “And if it does, what happens when the child is born?

“Yes it will work Mrs. Moore, that we know,” you reply in a calm voice. “With direct delivery, I have caused a pregnancy in every case attempted thus far, even when a patient is on birth control.”

“And we don’t know exactly Mrs. Moore, as to what will happen after.” You reply, the truth being important to you, “I carry a mutated version of the disease, and the mutated version produces the protein instead of killing it. My offspring carry this new version, and they confer immunity to the mother.”

“Most likely, you will end up sleeping for much of the day, and by tomorrow you will feel normal again, with no more treatments needed.” You continue, “We are working on a cure, and we have some promising leads. This is just a means to get as many patients to that cure as possible.”

Mandy Moore smiles at you, and seems to accept the explanation, and begins to take off her clothing. She is 36 years old, and she doesn’t have the body of a dancer like Beyoncé, or of younger women like your daughter and Joy, but she certainly isn’t ugly.

You take off your clothing and join her in the bed in the private room, hoping this can be fun for you but also as comfortable as possible for her.