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Summary
The clinic was a professional place. There had been a near-endless supply of forms to fill out, tests done to ensure that he was clean and fertile. Questionnaires to get basic idea of his stud preferences, to ensure the match was as compatible as possible. And after several weeks of inching his way up the waitlist, now here he stood. Fjor knew exactly what he was getting into, he had come here as the first signs of his heat stirred under his tail. With any luck he would leave here in an hour's time carrying his stud's child, or at least with a certain itch scratched.
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GIGGLES