Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿Fertility Clinic bythomas_deanÂ(C)

   The Western Avenue Fertility Clinic:

   PT 1: THE INTERN

   Moving around the examination room naked to keep from shivering, I
studied the anatomical illustrations on the wall.  "Ms Warbler," Nurse
Rhonda Chafer, a tall, broad shouldered woman in scrubs filled the doorway,
"Doctor, will be with you presently." When I pointed to the bundle of
clothes in her hands, she assured me, "your clothes will be returned at the
end of your tour of the facility."

   Clothes removed for a perfunctory examination by the nurse, I now
awaited Dr Velour, the operator of a fertility clinic.  I had applied for
an internship to complete coursework for my degree in Industrial
Psychology.

   The hard - boiled female nurse arms cradling the bundle of my underwear,
pull-over sweater, jeans and shoes apologized for leaving me, "in an
unclothed condition." She took a breath.  "Ms Warbler, unfortunately, we're
short on those disposable hospital gowns at the moment.  They're reserved
for patients.  Try to make yourself," she paused with as smirk, "as
comfortable as possible."

   I chuckled, "I was sent here as a prospective intern for my college
research paper in Industrial Psychology and end up politely plucked of my
plumage and palpitating," I made light of my situation.

   Once Nurse Chafer left the room, I studied the images on the wall which
depicted a naked blond woman, smiling as she rubbed her belly through
various stages of pregnancy designed to demonstrate the expanding belly and
burgeoning breasts.

   Instinctively, I turned around.  A short woman youngish for a doctor,
Eda Velour, smiling pleasantly, arms crossed over her lab coat, stood
silently by observing me.  "That's what we do here.  We make women who
can't or won't manage it the natural way for some reason or another,
pregnant.  Their reasons would make a fascinating study for your project.
Wouldn't it?"

   In my initial interview with Dr Velour before the physical, I had been
advised, "The clinic has certain privacy and proprietary concerns," Dr
Velour aggressively leaned forward to forcefully assert, "primarily to
protect our clientele, but also to protect the business.  Virile men,
mostly young, college age, many just boys your age -- possibly you've seen
them about the campus, come here to donate sperm; nubile women come here to
be impregnated.  You would have to sign a confidentiality agreement, like
every employee.  In your case, you must surrender editorial control over
the contents of your paper."

   Beginning her examination, Dr Velour read from her electronic notebook.
"Amy Warbler, age 22, Female, Heterosexual, in a relationship, sex 3 -- 4
times a week," Dr Velour looked up, paused to shoot me an evil smile and
snickered, "lucky girl.  Birth control, preferred position woman on top,"
the Doctor raised her penciled -- in eyebrows noting, "position resolved by
wrestling?  You may take advantage of our gymnasium to limber up."

   Gymnasium?  I wondered.  Where does Dr Velour hide it?  From the street,
the clinic appeared to be located in a simple store front.

   "Yes," Dr Velour commented, "A hearty work out would do you good before
you engage in your next round of the battle of the sexes with your
partner."

   "Good exercise, indeed!" I declared.  The enthusiasm of my response drew
a delayed reaction of momentary shock and amusement when I added, "Jerry
likes a stiff challenge."

   "You're here to study Industrial Psychology up close in a people
intensive industry," Dr Velour, belatedly reacting to my double -- entend
with a strained smile, noted.

   "Like you said," I replied with a chuckle, "this business produces
people.  The women pay to get pregnant.  Understanding their motivations
could be an important factor in recruiting new business."

   "Indeed," Dr Velour agreed.  "Can I ask what interested you in
performing your internship requirement through the Western Avenue Fertility
Clinic?"

   "Your Facility," I advised her, "is strategically located between my off
-- campus apartment and the campus and within walking distance of both."

   "Indeed, the role of convenience in making choices, even in the weighty
matters of life, boils down to the old saw: location, location, location."
Dr Velour shot me a pleasant smile.  "Ok, Nurse Chafer took all the lab
work and took your vitals," Dr Velour, looking down at her electronic
notepad, reminded me, "Now, let's get to work.  My style of internal
examination is different from those you might have experienced." After a
pause, Dr Velour ordered, "Turn around, feet apart, bend at the waist. 
Nurse lubricated your anal cavity to take a rectal temperature.  Just to
make things go smoothly," Dr Velour, a glistening smile sprouting, paused,
"I'm going to do it again."

   I sighed as I steeled myself to send my mind somewhere else.  "Despite
powerful hands," I, turning my back to the Doctor, recounted, "Nurse Chafer
administered a gentle massage with considerable patience." I took a deep
breath as my bare feet were gently pushed further apart by a gentle nudge
from Dr Velour's sneakers.

   I grunted as Dr Velour announced that "I am conducting a bimanual
internal examination of the anal and vaginal cavities." Reflexively, I
gasped as I bucked up against her penetrating thumb and fingers.

   "I'm going to," Dr Velour, leaning over me, implanting her breasts into
my back, advised, "palpate your lower abdomen for signs of ovarian, renal
or intestinal abnormalities."

   Hmm, my mind brought me to rolling on the floor with Jerry.  When
emerging on top, Jerry held me face down for doggy style penetration. 
Jerry's hands would reach across my belly.  "I'm feeling for my cock," he'd
whisper, "to jerk myself off inside you."

   Much like Jerry making love, Dr Velour, examining me, sent nimble
fingers across my pubis.  Both hands met inside me long enough to
vigorously tease my clit.  My breathing became rapid.  I ground my butt
against her intruding fingers while I softly murmured, "fuck -- me."

   I tended to me much louder while I pumped Jerry for his man sap.

   "There," Dr Velour retracted her fingers slowly softly caressing my clit
and vaginal lips on the way out, out, "that didn't hurt a bit.  If you're
ready for your tour, I'll have the nurse escort you to the employee
showers."

   "Clothes?" I reminded Dr Velour by holding my hands away from my hips to
display my bare body.

   Promised that "Nurse should see to clothing," I waited for what seemed
to be an eternity until the nurse tapped on the door and entered.

   "Ready?" When I requested my clothing, Nurse Chafer touched her notebook
and a hidden door behind one of the anatomical charts opened.  Though a
passageway, we found ourselves upon a steel grated catwalk illuminated by
light bulbs dangling from a wire.  "First showers," the nurse, pointing to
the catwalk, ordered, "shall we go?" Noting my surprise, the nurse added,
"Back stage."

   I sighed when my bare feet touched the steel grid.  The nurse chuckling,
pointing to either end of the building, "This is called the walk of shame.
It connects the lockers with the showers.  The fertility clinic is a
sterile environment.  Employees shower with an antibacterial soap before
and after work and in migrating between different zones."

   Biting my lip, I wondered what had propelled my bare feet forward onto
the cold steel grid of the catwalk?  Momentarily pausing to look over the
rail, I was shocked to see immediately below me the overheat lighting
structure for a swimming pool and gym.  I looked at my escort in confusion.
The clinic's frontage on Western Avenue gave no clue of such an extensive
underground operation.  Was this an athletic club or a fertility clinic?

   Nurse Chafer, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder and peering over the
rail, noted, "one of the perks offered to the sperm donors, free gymnasium.
Some employees use it in their free time.  Males exercise with an athletic
supporter; swim nude.  Females are issued a two -- piece."

   "And genetic male employees who identify as female," I prodded.  "Must
trans -- men wear the jock strap in the gym and swim nude?"

   "The issue of trans -- men in the gym has yet to arise," came the curt
reply.  "Any second thoughts?" the Nurse asked with an evil grin.

   I sighed.  "Going forward isn't solely a question of having already
pliantly complied this far.  I need this internship to graduate.  The
incentive of a paycheck is sufficient to endure," I grimaced, "unusual
conditions."

   A bright light, reflecting off glistening tiled walls, shining at the
end of the catwalk, marked the showers.  "With pressure from local human
rights commission upon all employers to provide equality for trans -- men,"
Nurse Chafer explained as we proceeded to the shower, "we don't provide
separate lockers or showers for employees reporting in.  New employees can
be eh -- uneasy in the beginning.  It wears off."

   Chuckling at her "interesting choice of words," I suggested, "Guys
standing there, drooling at girls; girls throwing globules of soap at them
like the silliness in junior high school gym classes."

   "Some older employees have had more difficulty adjusting," Nurse Chafer
positioned me under a spigot, instructing "Stand there." Moving out of the
way, the nurse added, "but in this business, we're looking at naked males
getting jerked off by a machine and nude females getting eh-stimulated --
eh pre - insemination all day long.  Otherwise," the nurse added as soapy
water rained down on me, "functional nudity for the co -- ed shower seems
ordinary enough."

   As I toweled off, the nurse handed me a two piece and white athletic
socks and sneakers.  Holding up top and bottom in front of me and
stretching the thong, I remarked, "less than one pass of the shuttle didn't
leave much fabric."

   While I stepped into the thong, the nurse commented, "One size fits all!
You'll find the material is very pliable.  It expands," she explained while
I took a breath to pull the top over my boobs, "to fit most figures."

   From the employee showers, I was led into the donor's showers where the
nurse waived to Alison, a barefoot woman in a skin - tight pastel bikini
before we passed down a ramp into the gym.  As we passed under the level of
the gym's overhead lights, I went blind for a second.

   "You'll get used to it," Nurse Chafer smiled.  At the white tiled, gym
level we came past three offices.  At the first office, the door was closed
and the blinds over glass window in the door and the wall was shuttered. 
The nurse noted, "Dr Velour's and Dr Stroker's private office." A smaller
office's door was open.  "This would be your office.  You keep your notes
and prepare your paper here.  Nothing leaves the building."

   In the next office, blond haired Greta, the manager of the gym, rose,
muscular thighs flexed, to greet us.  "Nurse Chafer, is this our new
intern?"

   Strong arms gripping me, Greta explained, "the gym is a perk for our
hearty stallions for a time left unbridled to work off frustration. 
Employees may workout in their spare time."

   "Do many employees take advantage of the gym?" I asked.

   "Out of two dozen regular employees," Greta advised, "only two or three
-- mostly men participate in off -- duty gymnastic exercise and swimming.
What keeps more men on staff away, surprisingly is the nudity.  Like
patient and donors, to enter the pool, male staff must have body hair
depilated.  Female patients and employees are welcome but only an
occasional woman other than myself or Dr Velour takes advantage."

   "Naturally, I suppose.  While I'm on the cleaning crew, I suppose I will
be working down here, occasionally," I responded.

   "You will be given an hour to record your observations," Greta noted,
"and to go over your findings with me or Dr Velour." Holding her arm out
toward the gym, "Shall we tour our state of the art gym?"

   After a tour of the nicely shined exercise machinery, Greta, taking a
few minutes to work dead lifting weights, questioned me, "How much iron do
you suppose you can pump?"

   Transfixed by her powerful deltoids and biceps, I, when prompted,
replied, "I never tested myself."

   "On janitorial staff, you'll have to lift some heavy weights," Greta,
spoke without hesitating between reps, "Spend some time working out here.
Now, nothing like the pool." Greta stripped off her running shorts and
cotton T shirt, revealing a firm body, not an ounce of fat.  "Join me," she
invited.

   Nurse Chafer nodded to me to join Greta in the pool.  Her glance,
searing through the two piece, told me to swim nude.  I managed two or
three laps.  I was standing on the deck covered in a towel shivering with
my arms crossed, when Greta triumphantly raised her arms.

   Leaping out of the pool, Greta did some cartwheels on the deck.  Wishing
me well with a hug on my project here, Greta assured me, "We'll have some
fun together." Palpitating my boobs, Greta whispered, "We'll harden your
boobs, firm up that jelly belly and," with a playful whack on the butt,
Greta declared, "tighten those muscles of that fleshy derriere!"

   Back in the shower, rinsing off, I was reminded by Nurse Chafer that in
a sterile facility, a shower was required to move between different
sections.  As I toweled off, I accused Nurse Chafer of "just enjoying
watching me naked."

   "I'm a nurse," Nurse Chafer retorted, "that's my privilege." Throwing me
a smock, a thong, loose pantaloons, booties and hood -"all a subdued light
grey, Chafer noted, "it's a unisex cleaners' uniform."

   Informed me that the pants were optional, I tossed the pants back. 
"Jerry and I may wrestle for top position, but still Jerry prefers me to be
100% female.  He wears the pants -"because I say so."

   Reflectively, the nurse observed, "Your choice.  Employees have a legal
right to decide to determine a gender identity."

   "I've wondered how that works.  Suppose a trans -- man wants to be
impregnated," I, throwing the grey smock over my head, asked, "or a FTM,
female -- to -- male wants to donate sperm?"

   With a chuckle, the nurse paused to contemplate before formulating her
response, "I leave it to the doctors to decide how to deal with the
situation in which legal requirements come up against biological
impossibility.  Perhaps," the nurse's voice turned cheery, "you may play an
important role: providing assistance -- eh coming with resolutions -- eh in
rummaging through such -- er novel questions."

   From the employee showers, I was once again in the donor's showers where
the nurse waived to Alison, a barefoot woman in that pastel bikini before
we passed into male treatment rooms.

   "Generally," the nurse explained, "cleaning in the AM begins here at
5AM. Males are depositing bodily secretions into the treatment rooms from
6AM onward.  To prevent spread of disease, each room must be antiseptically
cleaned before we open at 6 am and after each use." Escorting me behind the
treatment rooms to an observation booth, the nurse suggested, "Let`s, take
a peek.  Shall we?"

   A flick of a switch rendered the wall transparent.  On the other side of
the wall a male was laying face down on a workout bench, muscles tensed,
butt burnished red, legs spread across the bench, a darkened face shield
enshrouded his head.

   "It's very different from the classical sperm donation clinic," the
nurse observed, "y'know the places where guys came in to jerk themselves
off to pornographic pictures.  Here the conditions replicate not only the
mechanics of intercourse but also create the warmth of intimacy."

   "How do you replicate the physical conditions of intercourse?" I asked.

   "The male is comfortably placed, in sexual position," Nurse Chafer
explained, "of choice.  Here the male is lying face down; his genitalia is
inserted in a sleeve, a thin pouch which is plugged," the nurse lifted her
eyebrows and smiled in self - conceit, "into device which simulates the
moist warmth and viscosity of a woman's orifice.  The machine`s pulsations
draw sympathetic responses in the male organs precipitating male orgasm
yielding ejaculate."

   "And the opaque blinder?" I questioned, "aren't men very visual in
arousal?"

   "What you call `the blinder' is really a screen which creates a virtual
reality either from stock footage or from an original production."

   "Original production," I laughed, "are you telling me, the facility
produces porn?"

   "Oh, no," the nurse shook her head, "I suppose we could, but our
original productions are custom made for the particular donor.  The
gentleman, ordering an individualized virtual encounter, visualizes his
significant other in a fantasy that the clinic has filmed.  Shall we move
on?"

   Back in the male shower, Alison, the tall thin shower girl in a pastel
bikini, was at the cabinet in the corner stowing towels and soaps.  The
nurse announced our presence, "Still quiet, Alison."

   "Mid -- day shift is the slowest," Alison advised, "most of the guys
come before 9AM or after 6PM to drop their wad, shower, or use the gym."

   "I guess," I interjected, "you enjoy the quiet."

   "Older female employees might prefer the mid -- day shift if they have
to work the men's shower, but there are some advantages to working the busy
hours; the cups and front panel can get weighted down..." A frosty glance
from Nurse Chafer cut off the response.

   "The day goes faster when you're busy," the Nurse concluded the
discussion, "So much to learn," the Nurse declared in a cheery voice,
"Let's move into the male locker."

   In the donor's locker, a naked man was carefully hanging his clothes in
an open locker.  Greeting the nurse, Hal claimed to be waiting for an
attendant to release him.

   Release?  I wondered.  Is he being confined?  My eyes widened when he
smiled and turned to face us.  I could not help staring at his masculine
genitalia ensconced in a wire cage.

   "Are you here for a donation?" the nurse asked, "or just a workout and a
shower?" Before answering, the man glanced at me.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  I've
forgotten to introduce Amy.  She'll be joining us.  You'll be seeing here
when you report in for your early morning work -- out or donation."

   "Day -- off, just a few hours in the gym and a workout in the gym." The
man responded.

   Nodding approvingly as she pressed a button on her notebook to open the
device, the nurse quipped, "just some time dangling with loose change."

   When the comment drew a smile, her inquiry after the relative comfort of
the bird cage by comparison to the iron cup drew an explanation of
difficulties positioning.  "You have to be careful," Hall remarked, patting
his belly, "lying on your belly, but Macy says the cage force me to
consider her needs."

   "Speaking of her needs, have you considered bringing Macy to the clinic
on a couples` day?" the nurse called out to man as he turned to proceed to
the showers.

   "Hmm, Macy," facing us, Hal expressed concern, "is ah -"afraid of
intruding on my man -- space ..."

   "And not the electric shock," the nurse chided Hal, "the magnet
attraction of finding yourselves naked together."

   "We're saving for a house," Hal explained, "To attain the high sperm
count the clinic pays for, certain sacrifices, eh -- restrictions are
required; to maintain physique, the exercise regimen."

   When Hal vanished into the mists of the shower, I asked, "Are donors
encouraged to bring spouses along?"

   "The Facility gives away little for free," the nurse explained, "there's
an expectation that something productive can be developed.  Exactly what
form that takes, you may learn.  Next step, we return you to the
examination room to talk to Dr Velour and to prepare you to leave."

   Once again, we were in a passageway.  The nurse stopped at a
consultation room and switched a command which rendered the wall
transparent.  "Dr Velour is conducting a monitoring interview of donor.

   Inside the room a naked, young man stood next to an examining table.  Dr
Velour, pushing the patient's head to the side while fondling the patient's
testicles, ordered the man to cough.

   "Mr Hauser," Dr Velour addressed the donor, "you're a young heterosexual
man, married with a child, could you explain why you want to `bind up your
loins' into a cock and ball jam?  I grant you release from the muzzle only
when release of the pent - up tension will produce a maximum yield?"

   "Duh, the money?" Mr Hauser replied.

   A shocked look appeared on Dr Velour's face.  Mystified by Dr Velour's
reaction, I turned to the nurse with a perplexed look.  With a self --
satisfied smile, Nurse Chafer, leaning on my shoulder, whispered in my ear,
"Dr Hauser is so intelligent that she can underestimate the subject -- eh
patient."

   In the examining room, handing the patient a condom, Dr Velour ordered,
"Turn around, spread your legs, bend over." Playfully slapping the patient
on the butt, Dr Velour added, "I need a sperm sample.  Pull those cheeks
apart." Pausing to pull on latex gloves and dipping the fingertips in goo,
Velour promised, "This shouldn't hurt a bit."

   The patient grunted as Dr Velour explained, "Your contract requires
chastity.  You may engage in sex only when I permit it." Dr Velour paused
for emphasis.  "With your genitals -- your cock and balls," her voice was
deliberately elevated at the vulgar word, "in a chastity device, you obtain
release two or three times a week -- here." Leaning forward, Dr Velour
fired a question, "How does your wife feel about a husband functionally
neutered?"

   Dr Velour could not conceal her shock at the curt response: "Birth
control," Mr Hauser replied.

   Led further down the companionway, Nurse Chafer confided at low breath,
"The sperm sample is taken by manual manipulation of the prostate which
forces a male to ejaculate.  The procedure is painless.  It might even
prove pleasurable, but many men object to that type of physical contact."

   "Why then is it necessary, if you have all these machines to tap man
sap?" I asked.

   "It's part of control," Nurse Chafer snickered.

   Entering the examination room where the tour began, Nurse Chafer
collected the cleaner`s uniform leaving me naked.  "Dr Velour wants to
speak with you before you leave.  Doc's a little busy with screening at the
moment.  She'll be with you presently." Pausing at the door, Nurse Chafe,
snorted, "Still a - game?"

   "This should prove to be an interesting experience," I replied.



   Ch 2 Only A Game

   "Somehow," my husband Jerry teased me as I rolled away from him to get
out of bed at 3AM, "it's appropriate that you begin your internship in a
fertility clinic on Valentine's Day.  Care to sneak me in there to try out
my equipment?"

   Bare body, freed from the covers, meeting the cold winter air, I might
have liked to have allowed Jerry's strong hands to pull me back into bed,
but I couldn't be late on my first day.  "You needn't worry about your
desirability as a sperm donor.  You need to worry about your jealous sperm
donee."

   I smirked.  Much as we could use extra money to buy the house, Jerry
enjoyed spontaneity in bed.  So, did I.  Could he submit to the clinic's
rules?  To be admitted to the program, male Donors were locked down in a
"cock block," a chastity device between donations.  During my interview, Dr
Velour's dark eyes penetrated my bare body when she told me, "It maximizes
the yield."

   I shook off Jerry's hands to start marching for the shower, dismissing
his attentions with the remark, "You already got your Valentine."

   Laughing, Jerry called after me, "if you have to shower before starting
work, why do you need to shower off before you go?"

   "Because sometime in the middle of the night I found myself on my belly,
naked, bucking up to you to draw you in deeper," I teased him.  "I don't
remember exactly how it started .."

   My voice trailed off as I turned to throw him a devilish smile.

   I had been in a state between sleep and consciousness when Jerry tugged
at the elastic of my panties.  In my zombie -- like state, I lifted my butt
for him to pull them off and like an automaton mechanically rolled on my
hip to kneel and hold my hands up.  I felt a delightful tingle as Jerry
lifted his T shirt over my head.

   "You had your fun," I teased Jerry, "but now it's morning and you need
to respect me while I shower you off." I gritted my teeth; my voice
betrayed my uneasiness, "It's not like I'm looking forward to starting this
internship, but it's paid and I get a check ..."

   "There's a check?" Jerry replied, "The work may be grimy -- cleaning a
fertility clinic -- but the money will be clean.  And since you shower
entering and leaving the clinic, the dirt will be Rub -- A -- Dub -- Dub-ed
away."

   I sighed.  "I had to sign confidentiality agreements, promising not to
talk about my work or the people I meet, to wear only the clothing issued
by the facility on duty, to be submit to physical inspection of my person,
to consent to physical contact with persons of the same or opposite sex if
required, to be a subject of psychological testing and experimentation." I
paused to exhale.

   "You're dressed to turn a trick," Jerry baited me, "but you don't intend
to put out."

   Playfully slapping Jerry, I revealed my reservations.  "Dr Velour, the
owner of the facility, is a little weird.  I think she enjoys conversing
with nude women.  When I was hired, she conducted my interview as part of
my physical exam, no hospital gown.  After a tour of the facility, I was
left naked during a briefing on her expectations.  I gulped before I
exclaimed, "Why need I worry about getting through the first day?"

   "Get through it the way I would get through a short arm exam when I was
in the Corps," Jerry advised, "make a game of it."

   "A game?" I said as I strode, deliberately swinging my hips to tease
Jerry, toward the shower.

   When I arrived at the Western Avenue Fertility Clinic to begin my first
shift at 4:30 AM, I was surprised to find the oversized closet that housed
the locker room already abuzz.  Although I, forewarned that I must undress
and shower to enter the facility, had my auburn hair cut short, I was
unprepared for the scene of women packed into the right side of the locker
room.  I was barely able to hear the security officer's directions over the
din of high -- pitched voices cackling.  The dozen or so women, mostly
40ish or older, crammed in together, were busy undressing and stowing their
clothes in lockers on their side of the room.

   Eek!  I almost freaked out.  I was a college intern in a fertility
clinic.  These women, paunches hanging, most of them twice my age, wouldn't
their appearance discourage nubile young women from inseminating
themselves? The ladies faced their lockers chatting among themselves
oblivious to the naked men, on the other side of the room idly standing by.
Game, I sighed, the game calls.

   Pushing my way through the bodies packed together, I nearly passed out
from the bouquet of perfumes rising from half naked bodies before I reached
my assigned locker.  "The new girl?" asked the bare -- chested lady to my
right.  "I'm `Rory, short for Aurora and that slut, she's," Rory pointed to
the lady on my left who was bending over to remove her panties, "Astra
short for Astarte."

   Forcing a smile, I tried not to stare at her shaven pubis.

   Smiling back at me, Astra explained, "My parents were into mythology. 
Astarte is the goddess of love.  Appropriate for St Valentine's Day?" She
paused.  "As the daughter of the moon goddess, Astarte was granted the
crescent moon for her symbol."

   "So," Rory exclaimed, "reporting in this early, you're caught between
night and day." When I looked over my shoulder at the naked men, Rory
assured me, "Oh, they're not in cock -- blockers but still harmless."

   Shaking her head, Astra interjected, "It's the law.  We have to live
with."

   "During my time in school," I replied as I removed my top, "we needed
accustom ourselves to undressing in front of drooling guys."

   "Ah, equality reigns," Rory sighed, "Allow me," Rory requested
permission to unhook my bra, "Gender equality means the employer doesn't
have to pay for separate locker rooms for men and women."

   "But, we can't fault our employer on that score," Astra interjected as
she swept the unhooked bra off my shoulders and flung it in my locker,
"You'll see Dr Velour in here, bare to the bone, prancing to the showers
before she does her rounds."

   "And you can feel her beady black eyes upon you whenever she's around,"
griped Rory.

   "If you can't exclude men from the ladies' locker," I chuckled hobbled
on one foot to remove my sneakers, "There is the hope real men might
control the occasional perv."

   Raising her penciled eyebrows, Rory snickered, "Not to worry.  These
guys are more embarrassed than we are.  We count on them remaining
hypnotized by our beauty," she wiggled her body, "while we get ready for
the herd to race, like cattle on the trail, for the shower."

   "Judging by swollen schlongs," I looked over my shoulder as I planted a
hand on Rory's bare shoulder for balance to step out of my dungarees, "I
might think not."

   "Actually, judging by their bulging eyes, we count on that," Rory
snickered.  Placing a hand on my bare shoulder, leaning into me to whisper,
"We put a show in the shower for the guys.  Just play along.  It's fun to
watch them react.  Are you a-game?"

   "A -- game!  Rub -- A -- Dub -- Dub!  Slinging soap in the shower," I
nervously quipped, "should be good clean fun."

   "Huh!" Rory snorted, "just clean fun.  Yeah."

   "Hurry, along," urged Astra, standing behind me, "the cleaning uniform,
large frock and trousers, is the same for both -"eh all sexes.  We like to
get the pants so that the guys are left in frocks sans culottes."

   "Think of it," Rory smiled, "it's the race for the pants in the battle
of the sexes."

   Then Rory and Astra grabbed each of my arms.  Out of the locker stepping
onto the cold steel of the catwalk, I felt that same tingle that I felt
earlier with Jerry.  There's a certain excitement in racing naked
stampeding like cattle.  Could it be the exaltation of freedom, violating
social norms?  I wondered.

   On the passageway I melded into a herd of bare breasts bobbing and bare
bubbly butts bouncing which bolted across the cold steel bridge toward the
bright light radiating off the tiles of the shower.

   At the entrance to the shower, a tall thin girl named Doulchia in a two
-- piece reduced the stampeding cows to a line of contented calves,
awaiting assignment to a spigot.  "My task," Doulchia rang out an order in
singsong as she arranged a line along the railing, "it is decreed, to
corral the bare ass, make them pay heed."

   Running with the pack had an advantage.  I didn't think.  I didn't look
at the others in the horde.  Now, on edge, I nervously looked at the other
women.  All pubis were hairless.

   I restrained myself from shrieking when Rory grabbed my attention by
gently rubbing my back.  "Good," Rory told me, "you cut your hair short. 
It dries faster.  Consider clipping your muff."

   Aghast, I struggled to thank her.

   Sorting out the dozens of naked women for use of a few showerheads,
Doulchia rang out her rhyme, "The shower managed skillfully // for maximum
efficiency // in planning activity // for rub -- a -- dub -- dub with
dignity // three heads fitted // under the same spigot."

   As I came up to Doulchia, Rory chided her, "putting your bottom in a
thong took away two panels for .."

   "I lost two pockets," Doulchia cracked in a lyrical voice, "but I still
have the sockets // to stow your deposits."

   I looked from Rory to Astra for a clue.  "Ugh," Rory grunted, "Nurses
and aides get first choice on the best customers anyway."

   I was pleased that Doulcia, the tall thin girl in charge of the shower,
placed me under a spigot with my locker -- mates, Rory and Astra.  Pointing
to a spigot, Doulchia intoned, "Rub -- a -- dub -- dub // watch for the
hubbub // three for a scrub."

   Three of us found ourselves under a spigot.  "Hands up," Rory roared an
order.  Up to the mindless game of splashing around, I mechanically
complied.  As Rory lathered under my arms down my sides to my butt, she
whispered, "We need to move quickly.  We're caught between night and day.
You have to handle Astra."

   Back turned to me, Astra raised her arms.  Her shaven armpits had little
nubbies where hair follicles had been removed.  As I worked down her soft
flesh, a sudden tingle up my spine inspired the remark, "electrostatic," I
exclaimed, "yet so different from touching a man."

   I know what happened even though I can't explain why.  My body took
charge.  I had never intended to have found my fingers roaming from the
pillowy underside of her breasts down her stomach to the smooth flesh of
her mound.  In response, Astra, leaning backwards into my breasts, engaged
me.

   "Reverse," Rory abruptly ordered.  We jumped in unison to about face. 
Snickering at the men, Rory muttered, "just watch the bouncing boobs."

   I tended to Rory as Astra caressed my breasts with a slick soapy fluid.
Expanding circular motions probing downward from my nipples brought her
fingers across my belly and lower abdomen to my vaginal lips.  I moistened
the ruby red rim of my mouth with my tongue.  I had never been disloyal to
Jerry from the time I met him.  Why were my own greedy fingers probing
Rory's vagina pulling her back into me?  Was it just a game?  I was close
to cumming when Rory ordered, "Enough Rub -- a -- dub -- dub.  Show's over.
Quick rinse off."

   With the sting of a swat on my wet butt, Rory assured me, "It's only a
show." Invited to look over at the guys, I laughed.  Their eyes transfixed,
the guys stood by, schlongs effervescing.  "Works all the time," Rory
quipped as we passed by the guys to towel off, "Game set and match!"

   Claiming the cleaning uniform's pants, Astra chanted, "We get the
pants," Astra laughed, "and the guys get the lacy underpants."

   Descending the long staircase into the sub -- surface gym, Rory advised,
"we usually don't have much in the gym besides spraying disinfectant,
wiping down the equipment and mopping the floor."

   "Oops," Astra interjected, "not to forget cleaning Dr Velour's office."

   As we wiped down the exercise equipment, Astra explained, "we usually
don't find anything gross.  Guys, whether employees or donors, must wear an
athletic supporter in the gym.  That should be sufficient to sop up any
emissions."

   "Laundry," Rory smirked peering into a circular clothing bin and waiving
off the stink, "has to deal with any ugh," -"her face contorted -""man
goo."

   Looking toward the pool with a look of disgust, Rory commented, "The
guys swim nude in the pool.  Fortunately, the guys in maintenance have to
clean the slime over there."

   Returning to street level to pass through to clean the treatment rooms,
we were required to strip and shower.  "You may bemoan // Subject to
inspection // at change of zone // More Rub -- a -- dub -- dub // for your
protection // crammed into the tub // to prevent infection.."

   Standing naked, shivering, arms criss -- crossed over my breasts, I
waited with Rory and Astra for assignment to a spigot.  Ready to assign us
to a spigot, Doulchia, pointing to a spigot, exclaimed, "to scrub, bacteria
insidious, a good rub -- a -- dub -- dub, fastidious."

   Rory held her palms out as if in question.  To the unvoiced inquiry,
Doulchia simply shook her head.  A brazen look on her face, disbelief
creeping into her voice, Rory pleaded, "nothin` on Valentine's Day?"
Looking toward me, Doulchia nodded.  Rory protested, "She's just got over
the shock of a little rub -- a -- dub."

   "Damn!" Astra complained, "early bird men, cock unblocked, dangling
free, are good tippers."

   Doulchia laughed, "Don't huff// some guys get a rush // from a muff //
that is plush."

   After a quick shower, we donned frocks and thongs to enter the male
treatment rooms.  The room selected to begin looked like a normal medical
treatment room, except Rory explained it had a hitching post, a simple
pillar, 5' feet high by 2' feet wide in the center of the tiled floor
instead of an examination table.  "Fire plug shaped, the device simulates a
man crunching a female against the wall.  This is the Customer's prime
choice of fantasy," Rory commented.

   "Each room is equipped with a visor.  Unlike the old -- fashioned
fertility clinics," Rory explained, "we don't hand out girly pictures. 
This shield," Rory held the visor, darkened like sunglasses as she wiped it
with disinfectant, "draws the guy into the experience.  It presents him
with a vivid virtual sexual encounter."

   "Dr Velour designed the device and scripted the fantasies herself,"
Astra interjected.  "It's set for the introduction."

   "When the subject dons the visor, he's drawn into a different reality.
His imagination overrides the intellect.  The fantasy becomes a reality in
his mind.  Here try it out," Rory offered it to me.  "We'll start cleaning
up the room."

   As Rory nodded to Astra to begin spritzing the room with disinfectant, I
hesitantly held the visor in my hands, undecided whether to put it on.

   Turning to me, Astra noted, "It's just like a video game, with the plus
that you'll explore Dr Velour's vision, a female spin on a male fantasy."

   I looked around the room.  A pungent odor of disinfectant rose as Rory
began to hum a gentle tune as pushed the mopped across the white tiled
floor and Astra wiped down the table and cabinets.

   "For the cause of research," I sighed as I tentatively donned the visor
holding my hands at its edges ready to flip it off my head.  The sounds of
chatting passersby in the corridor faded away, along with Rory's sweet
singsong and the swoosh of her mop and the pungent odor of an ammonia --
based disinfectant.

   Veiled in the shield, I found myself alone in the examining room.  On
the visor I envisioned Doulchia.  Her two -- piece gone, a ghostly
counterpart of Doulchia appeared in my vision clad in a starched white
nurse's uniform enter the room with a tall carrot red topped naked male
subject, thick red hair hung from almost every inch of the subject's body,
except his freckled lower abdomen and butt.  His schlong hung prominently
against a fur free crotch and nuts.

   After securing the subject's feet to the floor in front of the post,
then, donning gloves, Doulchia's ethereal presence reached into hitching
post and pulled out a sleeve and secured the man's schlong.  "A guy's
imagination won't suffice," The specter of Doulchia's phantom explained,
"to reach a level of excitation // requires a device // to provide physical
stimulation."

   His schlong secured, Doulchia's spiritual presence, locking the
red-haired man's arms around the pillar, noted "the pillar is a soft and
rubbery // delightful to his touch // a cozy 91 degree, // tempting so much
// drawing him into her clutch."

   The image in the visor of the subject hitched to the post faded away
into swirls of green, yellow and red colors which settled into the
apparition of a figure, a man perhaps, in an embrace with a fire-plug
shaped pillar.  Doulchia's voice as the swirling colors warmed from green
to yellow and yellow to red and red to a deep crimson.  "Thermographic
images dazzle," Doulchia's illusion continued her lecture, "by the
intensification // of the subject's arousal // with increasing
stimulation."

   When the colors dissolved, the subject was gone.  In front of me
appeared Astra soft pale body bare but for a micro thong damming her love
canal.  The extra fat disappeared from her belly; her small breasts floated
like globules on her chest; her nipples erect.  To her right stood Rory,
pendulous boobs, nude, her crotch hairless.  On her left, were two males
one with his genitalia wrapped up in the cock block; the other hanging
free.

   "But Rory and Astra shouldn't be here," I protested, "They're supposed
to be cleaning."

   The apparition of Doulchia re-appeared in her nurse's uniform between
Rory and Astra on her right and the men on her left.  "Your co-workers
about their task// Stand in contrast // to your fantasy // here we
broadcast// only what you fancy."

   "What now?" I asked.

   Dulchia's phantasm smiled, "Sing a sweet song // for the pair you select
// to entertain // playing ping pong // on the subject's brain."

   "Huh?" I was taken by surprise.

   The image of Doulchia chanted a clarification, "In your vision // time
for a decision // a pair to cuddle // two by two division // your
preference for a couple?"

   The question hung.  I chose Rory and Astra -"or the images of them to
entertain the Red-haired subject.

   Doulchia' doppelganger responded, "Your choice curious // hardly
mysterious // ready for a bi -- experience."

   In the visor, Rory and Astra moved toward each other lips puckered to
kiss.  My vision was suddenly cut off.  I felt a hand under my frock
massaging my back as the visor was lifted.  Rory holding a mop and Astra
with a bucket told me that it was time to move-on.  The room was needed for
use a subject.  "Unless ..." Astra started, but was cut -- off by Rory,
shaking her head, reminded, "She's new.  We need to clean the public
areas."

   Back in the shower, we were rinsing off to Doulche's ditty, "Moving
between section // Rub -- A -- dub for prevention // of spreading germs and
infections."

   Under her breath, Rory, throwing me a glance, grumbled, "Looks like
Doulche grew a cup size." Rory, glancing in my direction, silenced Astra,
"Ain't worth the risk."

   I was standing under the assigned shower head with Astra and Rory when
Dr Velour walked in naked from the steel catwalk.  Assigned to a spigot,
she leaned forward tongue sticking out like a young girl to lap the falling
droplets as the spray pelted her taut breasts.  She hid cup "D" well under
her clothes.  Her hands lathered soap along the pleasing curve from her
firm breasts to her hips down her shaven mound into her vaginal lips.  By
comparison to Astra and Rory, Dr Velour, without an ounce of fat on her
body, was in tip top shape.

   Nudged by Rory, I broke my focus on Dr Velour's body.  With a nod, I was
moving quietly along with Astra toward retrieving smocks and sneakers when
Dr Velour, crunching her eyes, grabbed me.  "Amy, get me a towel; ugh soap
in the eyes."

   Rory looked over her shoulder as she and Astra, hips swing bare rotundas
as they retreated from the showers, received the frock and sneakers to
begin cleaning the public areas of the building.

   Staunching her eyes with the moistened towel as water continued to
cascade down upon her body, Dr Velour remarked, "soap in the eyes stings
but is more annoying than painful." Opening her eyes and blinking, Dr
Velour sighed "I'd like to speak with you.  Join me in the pool -- unless
you want to return to the cleaning crew for the remainder of your shift."

   After toweling down, I stood before Doulchia with Dr Velour.  Dr Velour
in a friendly tone requested, "Down to the pool for a dip before my rounds
for the day."

   "The usual?" questioned Doulchia, "wearing sneakers // it's suitable //
natural features // on display for an eyeful."

   I was stunned staring at the sneakers thrust into my hand.  Of course, I
had run naked with the herd of employees at 4:30 AM, but I would be exposed
now entering public areas, subject to public view.  I gulped.  It was a
game.

   Slipping the sneakers on, Dr Velour smiled at me, "nothing like giving
the guys released from the cock block, a little tease.  Walk with
confidence like you're covered from head to toe.  But if you prefer, I'll
have Doulchia issue you a two -- piece."

   With a smile, Doulchia intoned, "A clever deception // projecting
confidence //your nakedness // passes undetected."

   "Hmm," Dr Velour reflected focusing on Doulchia's padded bra, "Doulchia,
I wonder how much confidence you could afford." For a full minute Dr Velour
held Doulchia's gaze, before Doulchia looked away.  With a pained smile, Dr
Velour invited me to join her.

   As Dr Velour and I walked down the ramp into the sub surface gym, naked
men glanced in my direction, but passed on to get into the gym.  Watching
the men pass, I asked, "All morning, the girls -"my co -- workers -"have
been hinting about extra money available here.  Prostitution?"

   "I'd never tolerate prostitution," Dr Velour stopped on the ramp.  I
halted with her.  She bid a few males passing us a good morning as we
paused together on the walkway.

   "Most admirable," I considered my words carefully, "but I do notice that
Doulchia's cup size has increased ponderously."

   Placing a hand on my bare shoulder, Dr Velour continued to speak, "Your
first lesson in management psychology: To be the owner, to manage the
enterprise, one must see things differently."

   "Differently?" I asked.

   "I would not tolerate any employee who prostituted him or herself," Dr
Velour told me, "less so less out of concern for law or ethics."

   "What then," I prodded Dr Velour, "is your concern in preventing
prostitution?"

   "I own the facility." Dr Velour's dark eyes locked with mine; her tone
was stern.  "I pay for the client's output; what a client produces belongs
to me.  An employee who engaged in intercourse would be stealing. 
Correct?"

   "But I saw the cups Doulchia's bra stuffed.  I heard my co -- workers
begging to eh -"assist a customer," I protested.

   "I allow nurses, aides and even others," Dr Velour explained, "to assist
in drawing the product, no different from milking a cow.  That's what rings
the cash register.  And you draw a paycheck for your internship learning
Industrial Psychology.  Are you a-game?"