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| The Dildo Salesman |
John Smyth adjusted his black tie, squinting in the mirror; the blood drained from his face as his narrowed eyes detected a flaw in his appearance. His face became ashen, matching his dull gray business suit. Actually, dull gray was not the Official Bureau Color designation. Specifically, it was Business Class Decorum Utility Gray No. 3.
The suit would pass muster, however, his tie would be his undoing. They would zero in on it, like moths to a flame. It was the regulation length and width, he was sure, however, it was the monochromatic density of the black that unnerved him.
It bordered on Accepted and Appropriate Bureau Funerary Class Black No. 13, certainly not suitable for proper business attire.
And he would most certainly be charged a Work Violation Debit.
He could not afford a tic in the Unapproved Wardrobe column on his Official Performance Record.
It would follow him for years in his term of employment.
He had amassed a few Violation Debits for not adequately explaining to the Office of Surnames Registry why he wished to continue to have a y in place of a perfectly functional and acceptable i in his last name.
For that, he was he was required by the Registry to submit to a written psychological exam every few months, which he complied. The questions were the same, routine, and he mechanically answered each one, the words barely registering in his mind, until last year, when an odd section entitled Penis Essay and Picture Rendering appeared in the exam packet.
John shrugged and dutifully complied with the instructions. He was to describe in detail the flaccid sate of his penis, its full erect length and girth, if he were able to achieve a state of rigidity and then describe in equally minute detail the amount of ejaculate produced, if he were able to achieve orgasm.
He was then to take the red pencil provided and with as much artistic skill possible, draw an accurate representation of his penis.
John Smyth thought it most queer and internally debated querying the exam proctor. However, this was not permitted. One could never openly question a Bureau Proctor, if one did, he or she would most certainly face a Breach of Civil Conduct Debit.
He risked a glance at the proctor, who stat at his desk, peering over his wire-rim glasses at the room with a strange combination of smug rapture and sly grin upon his face.
John quickly cast his gaze back to exam packet and carefully filled out the Penis Questionnaire. With equal thought and care, he drew a picture of his penis. He remembered being strangely aroused as he attempted to accurately render in red pencil his full erect length and calculate the exact diameter of girth.
John squirmed in his chair, trying to conceal a prominent tumescent bulge. Sixty seven percent of the world's male population could not achieve an erection. He did not wish a Bureau Exam Spot Checker to notice his sate of arousal and demand he submit to an Immediate Physical Inspection.
Not that it was wholly unpleasant. Each year he was required to participate in a mandatory physical review, subject to a battery of tests to determine Penis Functionality. He became used to the poking and prodding of the Medical Staff. He secretly enjoyed the Manipulation Process to determine Erection Stability and Ejaculate Volume Control.
Last years Penis Technician was a rather large, matronly, but not altogether unattractive woman.
She massaged his penis quite vigorously, but he still did not quite comprehend why she placed a lubricated, gloved fingertip into his anus while she stroked. All he knew was when she did; his orgasm was plentiful and robust.
He shook himself from his reverie. He had to focus. The Bureau of Spontaneous Audits scheduled a twelve –thirty appointment to inspect the company facilities. Most of the employees would be at lunch, so he needed to gather his delivery packages as quickly as possible, as to not come under the baleful glare of a roaming Bureau Auditor.
The persistent rumor was the factory was going to switch operations from manufacturer of latex penises to condoms.
He did not understand the economics of the potential decision. Demand was high for the products. He did not think a condom factory in this business climate would be feasible.
Then again, he was not management.
He was just the dildo salesman.
* * * * *
He piled his packages into the ancient Prius, avoiding any contact with an Auditor. He did not think he could manage it, especially when he stopped into Research and Development to retrieve the latest model. The female employees were coming out of the Test Room, their Business Basic Brown No. 7 skirts hiked above the knee line, hair tousled, in a physical state John thought of as dazed euphoria. It was a clear (while tantalizingly provocative) and thoroughly egregious violation of the Non-Threatening Androgynous Sexual Business Environ Code.
His cock twitched life, swelling at an alarmingly exponential rate.
One of the R&D staff handed him his package, its content dubbed 'The Brute' and stared openly at his bulging crotch with a longing, yet feral look.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he drove out of the factory, thankful to be unmolested by both salivating female workers and overzealous bureaucrats.
John Smyth drove in a melancholy silence. This might be the last time he leaves Nation Sate City No. 569 to deliver packages to the company's number one customer in the hinterlands of the Free Province:
Ms. Maggie Rose.
Heat flared in his loins.
John shifted uncomfortably in the driver seat. He had to control himself. He could not get a raging hard on whilst the vehicle was in motion. If he suddenly were to swerve or fail to maintain his lane, he could be pulled over and if the Motor Way Enforcement Officer were to spy his growing erection . . . well, he could ill afford to spend another day the MWEPD Safety Cell, waiting an Orifice Inspection Exam to determine if he were concealing erectile enchantment contraband.
The pills did not work as advertised by the manufacturers in the Free Province. Nation Sate City No. 569 declared the capsules illegal and set up spot checks along the Motor Way.
His erection wilted, however, his mood buoyed as the urban landscape faded from view as he entered the rugged, rural landscape of the Free Province.
* * * * *
John looked forward to his visits with Maggie Rose, as much as she vexed him with her brazen sexuality and colorful Free Speak.
She would make him a pot of fresh, non-synthetic coffee as he went over the contents of the packages, explaining the specifications of each sexual aid she had ordered. Her fingers absently undoing the top three buttons of her white peasant blouse she always wore when he called, exposing more of her ample cleavage. Her undeniably feminine scent would waft into his nostrils as she took each dildo presented to her and she would carefully examine them, slowly stroking each from tip to base, hands cupping the latex testicles to ensure proper heft.
She would regale him with stories passed on from her grand mother and her grandmother before her of the times before the Final War, before the Reformation, when people spoke and dressed and did what the pleased without fear of a Bureau Violation. When people could read, communicate and order products through a device called the PC
Not today.
She could not.
His cock was in her mouth.
She greedily sucked him, taking as much of his rigid length into her mouth as she could manage without gagging.
His mind shrouded in a red haze of lust, his breath hitched in his throat as Maggie gingerly licked the underside of his throbbing shaft.
"You don't know how long I've wanted this, John Smyth. For six months, you’ve been coming out here and for six long, agonizing months, I've tried to seduce you. Now, I'm taking the bull by the horn or should I say the cock by the balls."
Maggie sucked vigorously on one of testicles and a strangled cry escaped from his throat. Copious amounts of precum leaked out the tip of his penis, coating his glistening shaft.
"Whoa, I'd better slow down, your not used to this man-handling . . . I mean woman handling."
John attempted to speak, state that he actually was, but Maggie stood up, placing a wet finger to his lips.
He could taste his secreted lust.
"No pillow talk, sweetie. You're so much sexier if you don't speak."
Maggie grasped him by his cock and led him into the bedroom.
* * * * *
John Smyth never conceived of the myriad of sexual positions a man and woman could perform with their contorting bodies.
He took Maggie relentlessly. She had awakened something primordial deep within.
They lie on the bed, breath labored, her ample breasts heaving; slick with his viscous seed.
"I'm a decade older than you, John and I do believe I've wore you out."
He smiled wanly, nodding his head slightly.
"It's OK, babe. This time I'm gonna drive."
Maggie leaned over, reaching for something on the nightstand.
She held The Brute in her hand, wiggling the formidable ten-inch dildo in front of his face.
"Ever use one of these on yourself?"
John Smyth arched a brow, his anus puckering.
* * * * *
He entered the outer markers of Nation State City No. 569, jaw clenching. It had been a long drive, the pillow Maggie provided somewhat eased his discomfort.
It would be the last time he would enter this bleak urban sprawl. Maggie made him a proposal, a lucrative business arrangement that would capitalize on his rare talent.
John Smyth would tender his resignation, dutifully comply one last time with the Bureau of Employment Termination and inform the Bureau of Registry Surnames they could take the y and i and shove it up their ass.
John winced, shifting his weight on the pillow.
He would no longer be John Smyth, dildo salesman.
He was now Dirk Hammer, Stud of the Free Province.
~ The End~
