The Institute – Thomas Dean Pt. 01

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Anal

“Good morning, Dr Throop.” I introduced 6 foot Mr Castleton to the Institutes’ Staff Physician, a bespeckled 40 year old svelte 5′ 3″ doctor with white lab coat over a sky blue blouse and dark skirt, “Let me introduce Mr James Castleton a visitor who is going to take a tour of the Facility. He is thinking of indenturing a daughter here.”

Hmm, I thought to myself, younger people like Castleton’s son and daughters would be awestruck by the tremendous freedoms that existed before the rise of the Sixth Republic. “Our,” I had told Mr Castleton who had come to the Institute in search of a loan of considerable size, “system, different from the past, is not one of rights but of duties: the obligation to stand on you own feet and pay one’s way. You should agree with the pillars of this republic: You are an entrepreneur.”

As Castleton moved to offer Dr Throop his hand, I heard the swish of his crisp suit. “This is your first stop on the tour.” Dr Throop indicated as she led Castleton to stand in front of an examination table, “This medical office accepts for intake of indentures and voluntary surrenders of redemptioners discretely with a certain degree of deference to personal sensitivities and privacy.” Reaching up to Mr Carleton’s neck to feel for swollen glands, she maintained eye contact with Castleton, “Mr Kinterhawk will explain.”

“Redemption differs from Indenture. A redemptioner, by contract, pledges his/her person as collateral for a loan. In an Indenture, a person sells himself or a person under his / her control in exchange for money, to be repaid at some future date.” I began. I took a deep breath. “Parents are authorized to sell children living in their household. Judgement holders are authorized to sell the obligation under unpaid civil judgements.”

On first contact with Castleton, I advised that the Institute is not a direct lender, but may buy notes at discount issued to lenders. It does accept Indentures.

“With a note the Institute purchases, once the note becomes due,” I continued, “The Facility sends a routine demand for payment in full or surrender within 10 days. Voluntary surrenders are treated with gentility. Upon reporting in, the voluntary surrender is received here, examined privately, classified and either retained and assigned to a dorm or shipped to market.”

The terms of the indenture offered to Castleton were strict. “You must offer one daughter on a seven – year indenture,” I, having stated the Institute’s offer coolly, waited for the predictable visceral reaction of shock. Once the words ‘what’ formed on Mr Carleton’s lips, I continued specifying my conditions. “Your other daughter and your son must act as guarantors of the indentured daughter’s performance—the female with seven years; the male with 10.”

“Could my daughter be shipped out?” Mr Castleton, turned to me to ask with worry in his voice. Dr Throop quickly grabbed Castleton’s chin so that she could look in his ear with her penlight.

“If the daughter you select for indenture is not acceptable here, we would give you the opportunity,” I informed him, “to substitute the guarantors the other daughter and your son. A guarantor is in effect like a redemptioner; he and she would receive the 10 day notice to report in.”

“10 years!” Castleton exclaimed, “My son could be castrated,” Castleton winced.

“Indentured or redeemed males with more than seven years left on their term, may be castrated in discretion of the master,” I reminded Castleton. “Castratable males are more valuable on the market. Many purchasers feel castratos are less combative and more pliant, less likely to run. For that reason, there could be no guarantee that the physical integrity of male functions could be preserved.”

Mr Castleton shook his head.

In a tone as reassuring as I could be, I continued, “If your daughter proposed as the indenture qualifies, there is of course nothing to worry about. Otherwise much depends, on the male’s constitution, the personnel needs of the Institute and the male’s potential salability in the market.”

“May I ask what happens to the redemptioners who don’t respond to the notice?” Mr Castleton looked from me to Dr Throop who forced his mouth open and looked inside with her penlight and dental mirror.

I flicked a button on my electronic notebook. A wall of the medical office turned transparent and we were looking directly into the reception room where 10 female prisoners were lined up against the far wall. Two blue Betturkey jacketed security officers, male in appearance, brandishing truncheons, marched up and down the line.

One officer barked, “Ladies, Welcome to the Fertility Institute. You are entering a new stage in your lives. With this new stage, a little ritual that must be observed before you can be accessioned into this secure, sanitized, sterilized environment. Doctor will be with you in a moment. So, let’s get ready for her. Strip.”

When the girls looked at each other stunned, the officer inside the reception chamber paced up and down for a minute.

I whispered to Castleton, “These girls were caught in a local round up and brought here right away. Ones detained elsewhere would have been searched and their property seized and inventoried elsewhere. A redemptioner caught elsewhere might be transported and delivered nude to impede escape.”

Inside the Reception chamber, the muscular officer wearing sergeant stripes bellowed, “Now that you’ve been subject to a body execution, everything you have belongs to your master the institute. If I have to cut your clothes off, an additional year or maybe two will be added to your period of redemption for damaging your master’s property.”

Looking at the flurry of blouses pants, shirts, skirts and dresses stripped off and tossed at the feet of the array, Dr Throop commented with a wistful tone, “Brings back memories. The day I was hauled in here.”

“You were brought in here?” Castleton with a look of surprise asked Dr Throop.

Inside the reception chamber, the guard bellowed to the array. “Let’s get into those birthday suits for doc. Bras, panties, stockings and shoes all come off.”

Graceful as a ballet step, the entire row leaned forward to reach behind them to unclasp and remove bras, dangling bare breasts before the audience in the medical office. “There’s no doubt a few good lactaters,” I carefully studied and clinically evaluated the array, “in this batch. Natural milk sells well.”

Nodding agreement, Dr Throop, looking up at the assembled, noted, “Breast size has little to do with lactation. The glandular breast tissue which produces the lactate is not directly related to the fatty tissue which makes up the mass of mammary glands. However, I see no evidence of deformed breasts, which might indicate underdeveloped glandular tissue, surgical scars or irregularly shaped areolas or nipples.”

“How long were you confined at the Institute?” Mr Castleton asked Dr Throop.

“As an indenture, long enough,” Dr Throop replied, “to have been the subject of successful artificial inseminations three times and to have spent time in the milking parlor getting my breasts pumped.”

“You were a slave?” Castleton asked.

“At first, no I was a redemptioner, doing time, five years for paying off a debt my ex and I gave guarantees for when the economy collapsed. I drew additional years for failing to report and then two more for – my own stupidity. I was branded on the side of my right breast and chipped,” Dr Throop informed him, “pretty much the same as these young women will be imprinted with the institute’s brand. I came in here rebellious and combative, but I came to see the folly of resistance. And I was rewarded with this position.”

“How is that possible?” Castleton asked.

“The institute is a generous master,” Dr Throop replied, “I showed initiative assisting with the care and needs of other indentures, redemptioners and slaves. When the Institute offered to send me to medical school, I gladly surrendered my freedom and submitted to complete slavery for life in exchange for the opportunity.”

Commands coming from the Reception chamber attracted our attention.

“Now,” the officer addressed the shivering mass, “property recovery personnel will collect any valuables on your person. We need your jewellery, necklaces, piercings, studs, earrings, or hair clips. I don’t care if it’s a family heirloom or a love charm of sentimental value to you. Even your wedding and engagement rings now belong to your master. You get to keep nothing. Remember everything comes off. If you forget something, you can be punished for stealing.”

Looking up at the wall which gave us a window on reception of redemptioners, Dr Throop “Hmm, the barber comes after the redemptioners are searched. Then, I’ll be busy soon. Let’s move this examination along. Could you remove your outer clothing?”

Mr Betturkey Giriş Castleton carefully removed his suit jacket and tie. At Doctor’s instructions, Castleton hung his coat on a clothing stand. Hobbling on one foot, he removed his shoes then unbuckled his belt and removed his pants. Standing in a sleeveless T – shirt and light blue boxers, Castleton asked, “How much more?”

“Everything,” Dr Throop ordered. “On entering a secure, sanitized, sterile area, you are subject to a thorough physical inspection.”

Dropping his blue boxers and ripping off his T shirt, Castleton held his hands away from his sides as if to present himself as ready. Dr Throop looking at Castleton’s feet still encased in dark silk socks, said “socks too.”

Standing naked, Castleton squirmed uneasily as Dr Throop conducted her visual evaluation of the belly drooping so far over his waist that you could barely see the tuff of hair which covered his genitals

Pressing the stethoscope against Castleton’s chest, Dr Throop ordered, “Breathe normally.”

“After getting the wind knocked out of me with these terms?” Castleton sarcastically asked.

“Then, don’t breathe,” quipped Dr Throop as she motioned to Castleton to turn around. Applying the stethoscope to Castleton’s back, Dr Throop ordered, “Breathe deep,” she ordered.

Inside the Reception chamber, the security officer’s booming voice attracted our attention. “Ladies,” the sergeant addressed the naked women, while his lantern jawed partner bearing a menacing smile tapped a night stick against a free hand, “the Institute thanks those of you who voluntarily turned over its property. My apologies to those who have honestly remitted the Institute’s property, but the many will suffer for the acts of the few. Anybody have something they forgot to turn in?” The sergeant barked, “OK, I’ll give you girls a moment to decide whether there’s something you just plum forgot.”

Lowering her stethoscope, Dr Throop advised Castleton. “You can stop breathing in.” After taking some measurements, Dr Throop continued her examination. “Arms up; feet apart,” Dr Throop commanded, “Don’t worry!” She added with a bemused grin, “We’ll allow you a shower after you’re examined.”

The rippling sound of donning the latex gloves echoed throughout the room. “Some of the guys have told me that this part of the exam is part of the assumption of power,” Dr Throop assumed a polite chatty tone as her nimble fingers explored Castleton’s body from his armpits to the cleft of his buttocks to his inner thighs. “I remember how I filled with resentment when strange eyes leered and strange hands groped every crevice of my body.”

Momentarily, a growled order invited our attention to the reception chamber. “Ladies,” the security officer bellowed, “Now let`s play a little bend and stretch. Stand up straight. Lift your hands above your head and spread your feet apart.”

“What changed you?” Castleton asked.

“When I realized that my predicament was of my own doing,” Throop shot back an answer as Dr Throop reached between Mr Castleton’s legs to touch his flabby underbelly. Nimble fingers probed his perineum and felt around scrotum, “and only I could find a solution.”

“What brought you to that realization, if I might ask?” Castleton asked.

“On intake, I drew extra time for attempting to conceal a locket of,” there was a sigh, “considerable sentimental value. And one day, I was assigned to inventory property recovered. Chatting with a supervisor about my silly locket, I exclaimed, ‘Oh! I wish I had that cheap locket I had shoved up my …’ And the supervisor promised to check in retained property for the locket, if I really wanted the locket. `What would I have to do to get the locket back?’ The supervisor looked me in the eye as if it were the stupidest question before she said dryly, `Ask.'”

There was silence. Dr Throop held her hands on her hips and shook her head before she resumed the exam. Breaking silence Dr Throop in a soft tone requested, “Would you be so kind to bend over and try to touch your toes?”

Inside the Reception chamber, the officer’s voice blared, “Ladies on a superficial pat down we’ve turned up a few items of jewellery and a mini – camera. I assure you that your insides will be turned out. If you have anything on your person, surrender it now. If we have to find it, you will be charged with dishonesty and two years will be added to your period of redemption.”

Dr Betturkey Güncel Giriş Throop excused herself. Pressing down on her name tag, Dr Throop contacted the security officer, “Sergeant Smith, put side the girls who kept their master’s property. I’ll administer enemas to them in front of the other girls.”

“We’ll just be a few minutes more,” Dr Throop informed Mr Castleton as she lubed the fingertips of a fresh par of latex gloves.” Left hand down on Mr Castleton’s spine, Dr Throop asked Castleton to reach behind him to “spread those sweet cheeks.”

Inside the reception chamber, that commanding voice of the security officer rang out, “Ok, ladies. truth or consequences time! Spread your legs far apart as they’ll go. Bend over. Touch the ground.”

“First,” Dr Throop explained, “in conducting a proctology exam, I need to release tension in the subject’s sphincter.” To Mr Castleton, she added, “I need you to relax while I lubricate your sphincter muscle.” Dr Throop took note in a soothing tone, “the goo goes on cool but will warm pleasantly enough as I work it in to the muscular tissue.”

When Mr Castleton gasped, Dr Throop continued, “Round and round, my finger twirls, until the muscle loosens enough to allow my fingers to wiggle by.”

Castleton pushed back to allow Dr Throop’s fingers to glide in deeper. As she slid her fingers in and out, Dr Throop whispered, “Many men will ejaculate during an examination of the prostate gland; some male doctors have to wear condoms to perform a proctological exam.”

In a voice clipped by involuntary grunts, Mr Castleton asked, “what about women?”

“Stand up and about face, so that I can conclude this exam,” Dr Throop ordered. Facing Castleton, Dr Throop took note of the erection and the pre – seminal fluid on the tip of his circumcised penis. Forcing him to turn his head away, Dr Throop ordered Castleton to cough as she palpated his scrotal sac.

“My husband says this is the worst part of the exam,” Dr Throop spoke gently as she slid a sperm retrieval condom on Castleton’s penis.

Dr Throop, I noticed, had undone several buttons on her blouse, exposing cleavage.

“Husband?” Castleton, his pitch elevated, questioned as Dr Throop manipulated his penis in the palm of her hands. “You mentioned an ex. Is he still around?”

“No, upon reception, my master applied for a divorce,” Dr Throop recounted, “I’ve remarried.”

“I thought,” Castleton asked, “you surrendered your freedom. You bear the mark and the chip.”

“My master consented to my marriage to a freeman and permitted me to bear free – born children,” Dr Throop explained, “but there were weighty conditions, among which was that my intended husband had to qualify by intellect and physique as an appropriate seed bearer…”

“Or be castrated?” Castleton queried.

“Certainly, a risk,” Dr Throop noted, “true love would be willing to bear. So, my love presented himself. He was lucky.”

“Of course,” Mr Castleton teased, “he got you.”

At that Castleton shrieked. Releasing her grip on his testicles, Dr Throop snapped, “That too. My husband passed his test. Perhaps if you lost some weight and worked out, you too might meet Institute standards for a full – fledged seed – bearing male.”

“Thank you for the recommendation,” Castleton replied

“The Institute is kind enough to preserve the sperm of males castrated here,” Dr Throop added.

“For resale back to them, no doubt.” Castleton parried with the Doctor.

“Little that the Institute does is not geared to provide the funds to support our humanitarian objectives, the primary goal of the Institute” Dr Throop explained.

It did not take long for Castleton to explode and deposit a milky fluid into the condom which Dr Throop removed sealed shut. Directed toward a door in the corner of the office, Castleton looked up at the sign: ENTERING SECURE ZONE: BE SURE OF CLEARANCE.

With Castleton out of earshot, Dr Throop, flush of face and of cleavage, remarked, “Hmm, a little warm in here.” Looking toward the showers, Dr Throop remarked, “I wouldn’t mind joining Mr Castleton in the shower. His profile, fleshy butt, drooping belly, and man boobs fits the body image of a perfect castrato. Mr Castleton seems like a nice person, good for safe fun.”

“Out of bounds for you at present,” I replied.

“Actually, as much as might I enjoy being showered by Mr Castleton. I hope it never comes to that and everything works out for him,” Dr Throop remarked.

“Oh, sadly sharpen your scalpel. As you know, small time entrepreneurs,” I replied, “find a difficulty closing the doors and walking away. Facing declining receipt, they become so addicted to the dream, they eventually pledge their body as collateral.”

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