Sam's Government Inspection

Sam felt like the room watched with bated breath. In reality, the women were just counting down the minutes until their shift was over. With a grunt, his penis dribbled its white pleasure into the jar. His hand fluttered from the base to just below the head. In private practice he preferred the feel of his hand across the glans, but he couldn't risk altering the flow of ejaculate when his life was at stake. His head was down focused on his pink head, but he could hear the women taking notes. The timekeeper clicked her stopwatch and said, "A minute two. New record."

One woman smiled as the others handed her some cash. All this right in front of Sam as his penis slowed its dance in his hand and he shook off the tip. His skin flushed red as he stepped back from the jar. Not a single drop had landed anywhere on the black cloth so he lived to be enslaved another year. Margie took a few final notes and then said, "Okay big boy, this is where it really counts. Brooke, prepare his flaccid measuring cylinder."

Again, the woman on the far edge of the row stood up and gathered a nearly frozen cylinder of water from the cabinet and placed it before Sam whose penis was still slightly plump from it's previous fun. "Sir, insert your erect penis into the cylinder," Margie said.

Sam stepped up to the cylinder and dropped his penis into the tundra. Quickly it shrunk down to its smallest size. Then Brooke still waited a minute before she marked its length. "Remove it," Margie said nonchalantly.

Sam stepped back and awaited his result. Would he move up the social ladder this year? Would he finally be able to get that raise and move out of Small Penis Housing? The seconds ticked by. Finally, Brooke announced to the room, "Subject is two inches when flaccid."

Everyone sighed. Margie made a final note on her clipboard and looked up at Sam with a professional smile. "Sir, your inspection is now complete, please get dressed and bring your sample to processing on your way out. Have a great weekend!"

In a flurry of cloth and embarrassment Sam got dressed. The women before him were filing papers back and forth and preparing for their next inspection in hushed tones. He picked up his still warm jar of semen and walked out the door behind him. He walked down the hall away from the large room of waiting men towards a counter that was labeled, "processing."

At the counter a tall red haired woman was writing details on a sticker that she would paste to a jar filled with a white, warm sample. She would then put a lid on the jar, spin her chair to toss the jar into a large canvas bag and start on the next one. Sam reached the counter and said, "I have a sample for processing."

Without looking up she said, "Leave it next to the others and exit that way."

Sam placed it on the counter beside other waiting jars and slunk out the door into the golden sunset.