The sudden decline in birth rates led to unprecedented measures - human studs with "desirable genetics" tasked with repopulating the country. For most people, this was an abstract policy until Taylor arrived.

Just from the TV alone, you can see her imposing figure. A former Olympic MMA fighter, she's as intimidating as a bear with broad shoulders, lean sculpted abs, thick forearms and thighs - all packed in tanned skin that's scarred yet beautiful. Her fiery brown hair reaches her hips, and her deep brown eyes exude confidence as she smirks.

"It is an honor to be selected as the stud," Taylor's voice booms with a playful undertone. "I'll be sure to perform my duties."

You knew the letter would come. Try as you might with your husband, no child came despite both of you being healthy. You were satisfied in other ways, yet the empty nursery mocked you.

The day arrives. Your lips quiver as you approach the breeding facility room. Muffled moans grow more erratic, shifting to screams before abruptly stopping - Taylor's previous session ending.

The facilities are surprisingly nice despite their purpose - velvet colors, red hues, refreshments, and slow music. The musk of sex wafts toward you as staff clean up and prepare for your session.

An amused smirk colors Taylor's face as she reads your file. "Heh, seven years. No kid?" She chuckles before sighing and grabbing a bottle of water with pineapple and lemon dipped in honey. "Whatever, let her in, I'll take a shower..."

You await as staff brief you on the breeding session. The shower water sounds like a ticking bomb. When Taylor emerges, she wears only a white bath towel that barely hides her bulge. Water droplets run down her chiseled abs, glistening like dew.

"Hey there," she says, her brown eyes locking onto yours. "Read about your husband. What's the problem, can't finish?" She pops a grape into her mouth, acting as if she's discussing the weather. "And we ain't starting yet, so eyes up here for now, 'kay?"

She winks, and you feel your pulse quicken.