In the dark observation room there was the Ministry of Women’s Health & Reproduction nurse and I. She stood beside me, sometimes leaning, her touchpad ready. I wouldn’t still be in there, peering through the one-way mirror into the next room, if not for the nurse talking me into it, manipulating me into it, giving me a thread of control.

In the opposite room we observed a mock hotel room with an awesome high-rise view of the city and surrounding landscape. My wife was in there naked on the bed. She had two different government-drafted prize-breeders’ sperm swishing around in her pussy; neither of those stud-specimens were me. I saw those men, neither of whom we had ever met, fuck her in their own manner. And then there was the third unnamed regime-appointed paramour.

He was the most average-looking of the trio. If I had to describe him in a police report, the criminal who fucked my wife, I’d describe him as 5’9” and skinny, with long hair. You might see this guy selling old robot parts or collecting abandoned drones off a rooftop, but no. He must have Darwin’s Choice for a genome, he must be a superman, he must have what the AI Emperor wants proliferated across the population. I was afraid to ask the nurse what it could be: a megagenius, immunity to diseases, maybe something as stupid as he has superb joint health and mobility owing to an obscure mutation only 0.0001% of people are blessed with.

Stupid fuck! Whatever it was, it put him on that side of the one-way mirror and left me on this side. Watching. Watching. Watching my wife get her sexual exclusivity with me taken forever, imprinting memories of sex with new men, permanently stamping the comparisons between her husband and these strangers into her mind, and if the ministry got its wish… impregnating her and officially designating me the legal dad!

I couldn’t watch it at first, but the nurse knew how to make me stay. She must’ve been trained and experienced in exactly this; she gave me three intervention options, not enough to draw her superiors’ attention but enough to keep my eyes glued. I couldn’t stop the Delimited Insemination Clinic appointment; all three donors had to ejaculate intravaginally for the subject, my wife, to be marked compliant with her order. But I was able, via the nurse and her touchpad, to stop the first wife-fucker from endlessly face-fucking my wife’s mouth like a jackhammer, and then I stopped the second wife-fucker from slapping my wife’s ass red and raw. I wanted to stop a lot more, but I had let some fouls fly, no referee whistle. Why? I had one intervention remaining, and I’d reserved it for Longhair.

It occurred to me. “Why do you or the ministry or whoever care so much if I watch?”

“The ministry itself might not mind one way or the other. But I’ve seen what happens to husbands who don’t see the special moment for themselves. They spiral, slow or fast, but they always spiral, imagining worse and worse, until they go mad.” She said all this like it was from her heart.

I was skeptical. “Why would you care if I go mad?”

The nurse patted my shoulder. “Your wife told me she became a teacher because she loves educating students. I became a nurse because I love healing patients.”

“She seems plenty healed.” I looked into my wife’s room. She was talking to Longhair about who knows what. The soundproofing was good enough to keep their words between them, though her moans and screams had reverberated through fine.

The nurse gave me the softest, briefest little neck massage. “You’re my patient, sir, not her. And today, what we’re doing and how we’re doing it, together, will be what helps you to heal later.”

Longhair had unbuttoned his shirt, and I watched as he removed it. Again, nothing remarkable but for a couple tattoos of whatever. He started to undo his pants.

“You said he has a high fertilization rate?”

“I did,” the nurse confirmed.

“Lots of healthy swimmers, then. Hey, I guess I shoulda nicknamed him Swimmer instead.” I finally made myself laugh. Maybe I was happy this madness was almost over.

The nurse nodded. “He does have above-average sperm count. But it’s more probable that he owes it to his advantage in displacement.”

“I have no idea what that means.” I chuckled to myself. I watched Longhair drop his pants, and his briefs were smuggling oranges or something.

“What the… fuck.” My mouth dropped. My wife’s mouth dropped.

The nurse continued explaining like she was narrating a nature documentary about animal mating. “Greater penile girth and length provides greater vaginal displacement; all of her erogenous tissue pressed and stretched. That activates the orgasmic process with much more ease than a phallus of lesser metrics possibly can.”

He peeled his briefs down. He had a limb!

The nurse continued, “She’ll have multiple uterine peristalses; her cervical upsuck will be thorough.”

My wife spread wide. I couldn’t take my eyes off it as he mashed the colossal head into her labia. She couldn’t take her eyes off it; she was doing a prolonged ab crunch to witness it for herself. And then, once he slid his titan into her, she threw herself back into the comforter and let out this cry of exertion, “Errrmmm!”

I watched Longhair as his ass flexed, pivoting into and out of her. He had to take a little step forward into her as he fed more of his length into her pussy. She moaned and moaned. It was too much moaning! Was that pleasure? I saw her eyes clench together; she grit her teeth. Was she in pain? Is that what the nurse meant when she said, “He likes to make it hurt a little”? Bitch!

I almost cried again. My voice wobbled. “He’s hurting her. She’s not wide down there, she’s tight and snug and sensitive. She isn’t able to take that much of a man’s anatomy.”

“Penetrative genital-to-genital sex isn’t negotiable here, sir,” the nurse warned.

“Right, I know… but… can’t he….”

“Yes?”

“Tell him… only the tip… no deeper than his cockhead.”

The nurse spoke into her touchpad. “Active Paramour, abstain from penile insertion beyond your glans.” The nurse turned to me. “I’ve never given such an unusual intervention order. Let’s cross our fingers it isn’t flagged.”

But I was relieved. I hoped my wife would appreciate that. That dumb prick with a man attached didn’t give a shit if he was causing her pain. But I did.

But then my wife wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in. She wanted him. She wanted his cock deeper! She wanted the whole massive limb inside her, as much as she could stuff herself with!

“He’s ignoring the intervention order!”

“He isn’t. She is.”

“So make her stop.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Why not?!”

“If I do, that would make four interventions. That’s almost unheard of. I’d need to explain myself to the administration at a review, and the entire appointment today would need to be struck and done over. I don’t want that. Do you?”

“Fuck!”

I watched. And then the nurse did something I hadn’t foreseen in the least. She tapped her finger on my bulge.

“You’re erect.”

“I don’t know.”

She slipped her finger under my belt. “Let’s see. Undo yourself.”

I ignored her. She knelt between me and the observation port, and she undid my belt herself.

“What is there to see?”

“Proof.”

“Of what?”

“That part of you likes what you see in there.”

She yanked my pants and briefs down in one quick, aggressive pull. “There we have it!”

She looked up at me with a big greedy smile. My erection hovered. I was so badly in need of relief; I’d leaked so much precum in the time I’d been there that a line of it dripped off my dickhole onto the floor.

“I can get you started, but you have to finish yourself.” She placed one delicate hand on my shaft and, very gently, with short strokes, worked my hardness.

“Don’t cum in my hand,” she mumbled a warning.

I kept my eyes on my wife. She was getting ravaged. Longhair had leaned over onto her to suck on her bra-model tier tits. Those tits of hers that got her selected in the first place! “Why are we doing this?”

The nurse explained in her softest voice, “To train your brain so that the same qualia elicits the opposite valence. It needn’t take repetition or practice. A single participatory demonstration of associative pleasure can… flip the switch. You become a willing cuckold. It’s beautiful.”

“I’m a willing cuckold?” Saying the words caused my erection to bob and nearly release.

She took me so softly by my wrist and placed my hand on my dick, but I didn’t crank myself. She looked up at me with a pouty face. “Please. If you don’t finish with your wife, you’ll miss your chance. Now, you can sync your orgasms. It’ll be ideal.”

She took my dick between her thumb and index fingertips and gave me the smallest little strokes, grinning with reassurance in her eye. “You can do it.”

So I did. I took over where the nurse left off. I began jacking off, standing there watching through the observation port, the nurse looking up with glee. I could see down her scrubs to her modest cleavage. I looked back at my wife. I saw her big tits rocking, I saw her designated paramour buried between her legs, cramming and shoving himself into her as she screamed, completely screamed. My wife grabbed fistfuls of her own hair and began gasping wildly, her abs clenched, her hips thrusting. She was climaxing.

The nurse whispered, “She’s never reacted like that with you. But that’s OK, it’s time to cum.”

I went stiff as a wooden plank. I steadied myself with a hand to the glass, then pressed my forehead to it too, and I shot loads. The nurse lifted her touchpad and took a photo, chirp-click, of the mess of ejaculate dripping down the observation port.

Longhair had finished in my wife. The nurse stood and said it with mirth. “That’s it! That concludes your wife’s first DIC appointment.”

I couldn’t look her in the eye. “Does my wife know I watched? Does she know I was behind this one-way mirror?”

The nurse tapped on her touchpad. “One moment. Here. Not necessarily. She initialed the consent bullet that the spouse be invited to attend… but she doesn’t know you accepted.”

“Can you not tell her that I attended?” I zipped myself up.

“But why not?” The nurse gave me a look of bewilderment, like it was a proud achievement.

“I don’t want her to know I cummed for it. I don’t want her to know I liked it.” I went for the exit. I stopped and turned only to see if the nurse agreed.

She smiled. “You did like it, and that’s all I want to hear.” The nurse did a zip-the-lips gesture. “…Don’t blab that I lent you the director’s cap.”