Medical Research

The phone woke me up at 4:20 in the morning. It was Rita, the night nurse, to say that Harvey Reybine, the Hollywood producer, had died in his sleep in his Bel Air home. That was upsetting because I liked Harvey. More upsetting was that I was out of a job. For two years I'd been spending a few hours each evening doing odd jobs, like setting up movies in his screening room, or mixing drinks, or going through his mail. Mostly just keeping him company. I'd met him when he spoke to one of my UCLA film classes, and I'd fallen into one of the easiest jobs I'd ever have, or ever would, most likely. He'd been paying me $500 a week.

The immediate problem was that I needed maybe another three thousand to get through my final semester, and my job had died in the night along with Harvey. There'd be no severance, I was sure. His kids hated me.

Since I was up anyway I went for a run, and then to my morning classes. I'd have to start right away this afternoon finding another job, and it would have to be one that fit my class schedule. Not easy with 40,000 or so UCLA students, probably 10,000 of them competing for part-time jobs. And, with the semester half over, most of those jobs were already taken.

I stopped at the Campus Caffeinator on the way to my apartment to scan their bulletin board. The first notice I found wasn't even 10 hours a week. Not even close to what I needed. Something at Home Depot, too, but that was in Inglewood, and I didn't have a car. A bunch of scams were there, obvious by their ridiculous hourly pay for stay-at-home work.

Then I saw something interesting: "Wanted: Multidisciplinary ARSD/CSE medical research subject, male, age 20 - 35, excellent health. $2000 for two-hour session. South Coast Institute. 925-555-3485."

I'd never heard of the South Coast Institute, but Google said they were just off campus near the medical school. I Googled ARSD and CSE but came up with nothing medicine related. But, wow, $2000! I called the number.

"South Coast Institute. How may I help you?"

"Hmmmm... I saw a notice for something called ARSD/CSE medical research. Can you tell me something about how I can apply for it?"

"Well, all our subject requirements are on our website. It's a long URL, but just Google South Coast Institute and you'll find it. Click on Research Projects, and you'll find the list. If you're a match for anything there, fill out the online form and we'll get back to you."

"OK, well, thanks." I hung up and brought up the website on my phone. There were dozens of projects. This was getting complicated. I put my phone away and went home so I could use my laptop.

There were only three things for me since I wasn't over 65, or gay, or a woman, or part of a couple, or a vet. One was a running study, but it paid only $50. There was a sleep study that paid more, $200 per night, but only for a maximum of two nights. Then there was the ARSD/CSE item, with its huge payout. I filled out the form and submitted it, with no idea what ARSD/CSE was. I didn't care.

Two days later I got an email back, with some appointment times to choose from. That was fast! I chose Tuesday, the 27th at 10am. In a few days, I'd find out what this was all about.

On Tuesday I walked across campus, past the medical school, to a large two-story glass and steel building. It could be mistaken for part of UCLA, but it was on the other side of Hilgard Ave. The receptionist sent me upstairs to the Reproductive Medicine department. I opened the door and found another receptionist.

"I'm Ken Laurent, here to interview for the ARSD/CSE project."

The cute girl behind the desk, probably an undergraduate, looked at a list. "Yes, Mr. Laurent. Please have a seat. Ms. Coates will be with you in just a few minutes."

It was just a few minutes. I was approached by an incredibly attractive woman in a white nurse's dress. Maybe it was an off-the-rack uniform, but it fit her curvy body perfectly. She had red hair, braided and tied into a bun, which was something older women did, but, for her, it was stunning. She looked to be about 30.

"This way, Mr. Laurent. Please follow me."

She opened a door to the inner offices and led me to a small room with just enough space for a table and two chairs. She took one and I took the other, across the table from her. She opened the folder on the desk and began going through a list.

"Mr. Laurent, there are some disclosures and agreements we need to go through, and then I have a bunch of questions for you. If that all checks out, I'll conduct a brief physical exam, and then I think I can let you know whether you qualify for the study. Is that OK?"

I'm not sure my thinking was totally clear, so stunning was this Ms. Coates. But, hell, if she wanted to interview me in this small room, then I was all for it. "Yeah, sure." I tried to sound casual. In fact, I was sure my heart rate was up. Would the physical include pulse or blood pressure?

"This study will be conducted by Dr. Christine Howard, who's a Professor of Reproductive Anatomy at the medical school. When she's not teaching, she does research on the male reproductive system."

"That explains why you need male subjects, I guess." I was trying to be clever, but as soon as I said the words I realized they sounded stupid.

Ms. Coates looked up with a frown. "Yes," was all she said in response. She went on with her disclosures. "Dr. Howard will be performing some procedures on your genital organs, but nothing will be painful or result in lasting harm. Nothing invasive."

I was afraid my genitals might be involved, ever since I'd been directed to the Reproductive department. Now I wasn't so sure I wanted to do this. Yeah, it was $2000, but I'd never been naked before in front of a woman. I'd had sex, of course, but in mostly darkness.

"So Dr. Howard will be operating on my genitals?" I asked.

"No, not operating. Just some procedures that will be applied externally."

"OK," I managed to say. Talking about my genitals with Ms. Coates was starting to get me hard. I was glad the table was there. "Go on, please. I assume there's more?"

"Dr. Howard may be assisted by other personnel as required by the study. Is that OK?"

"Only as required, right?" Somehow that made it better.

"Absolutely. This is a fairly advanced study, and there are some specialists that Dr. Howard will be relying on."

"OK, I guess." Ms. Coates's appearance was muddling my brain, and I found it hard to think objectively. Was I really OK with being naked for Dr. Howard and her specialists? It seemed scary, but, as I looked at Ms. Coates, it also seemed kind of erotic. Now I was completely hard.

Ms. Coates continued. "So, you're OK with what I've said so far?"

"Yes, all good," I said.

"Excellent. One more thing. Once the study begins, you agree to comply with all requests from Dr. Howard, from her staff, and from me, even if you find them a little awkward. I say it that way because we've found that some men suddenly turn shy, and that becomes a huge waste of time for everyone. Dr. Howard is a busy person! Once you commit, you need to stay committed. Can you do that? Please take a moment to think through what I'm saying."

I did take a moment but spent it looking as Ms. Coates, who looked right back at me with a dreamy stare. Well, it probably was a professional stare, but everything about her was dreamy to me. "I agree," I said. Did I? Well, hell, I'd said it, so I guess I did. What on earth had I agreed to?

Ms. Coates took out a form from her folder. "I have some interview questions for you, and then, if it looks OK, I'll ask you to sign a document that says in writing what we just agreed to orally."

The questions were reasonable enough. My parents, siblings, where I grew up, where I went to school, medical history, my studies at UCLA, even my religion. The only personal stuff was about my sexual history, but it was normal, even conservative, for UCLA so I didn't find the questions intrusive.

Finally, the form was finished. She placed a document in front of me. I glanced at it, and it was just a list of the disclosures and agreements that we'd already gone through. I signed it.

Ms. Coates moved her chair to my side of the table, where it barely fit, and said, "Mr. Laurent, please stand up and lower your trousers and shorts. I need to check that your penis meets Dr. Howard's requirements. You can fold your chair and lean it against the wall."

Fortunately, the interview questions had distracted me enough so my cock was only semi-hard. I stood up, but froze, with my hands to my side.

"Mr. Laurent, we just agreed that you'd do whatever we asked, right? So, I need for you to do what I asked. Really, I can tell you that Dr. Howard is going to get mad at me if I turn someone over to her who isn't cooperative. You understand?"

I did. This gorgeous woman wanted to examine my penis. I felt a rush of blood to my head. But, I had no choice, did I? I dropped my pants and pulled down my briefs. My cock, now almost hard, sprung out.

Ms. Coates looked down at it and said, "That's alright, Mr. Laurent. Male erections are central to Dr. Howard's study, so your ability to have one is one of the things I need to check. And, you've passed." She looked up and smiled. I got harder.

Ms. Coates held my balls gently while she pulled them away from my groin, stretching my scrotum. She reached behind them and squeezed the tubes or whatever they were at the bottom of my scrotum. "Very good," she said. "Now can you get fully erect for me?" She wrapped her right hand around my shaft and started sliding it gently. "Tell me when you think you're fully erect."

I thought of lying, so she'd keep stroking, but I was obviously rock hard. "I'm there," I managed to say.

Ms. Coates took out a plastic device that looked like something a carpenter would use. She pressed one end at the base of my penis, forcing it down against my groin. The other end slid back and forth. She closed it so the end just contacted the tip of my glans, and read off a number from the digital readout. "Fifteen centimeters," she said. "About average, and within Dr. Howard's range. I'm not sure about circumference, though. You're thick."

This was the first comment Ms. Coates had made about my appearance. I was sure I'd gotten even harder, but I didn't want to ask her to measure me again. She put a tape measure around my shaft, once at the bottom, and then re-measured me at the top. "Thirteen-seven," she said. "My paper here says thirteen-five is the limit. I'd better make a call."

She took out her phone and placed the call. "Abby here. Is Suzy around?" There was a pause, presumably to await Suzy. "Suzy, it's Abby. I'm interviewing a young man here for ARSD/CSE. Girth of thirteen-seven. My notes say thirteen-five is the limit."

Suzy was saying something, but I could hear only Ms. Coates's end. "About fifteen." Another pause. "So you can go two centimeters over? ... Yeah, I'd say so. Well qualified in all other ways."

Ms. Coates, who's first name I now knew was Abby, put her phone away. "It'll work."

"Who's Suzy?" I asked.

"Suzanne Katz, the team's biomedical engineer. She designed the ARSD. It can go to thirteen-seven, so she says it'll be OK."

"ARSD?" I asked. "What is that, anyway? And what's CSE?"

"I don't know the technical stuff. You'll have to ask Suzy when you see her." She looked through her folder and found what looked like a technical paper from a journal. "Automated Response Suppression Device. No idea what that means, but penis girth is somehow relevant. Maybe it fits around your penis. As I said, Suzy will explain when she sees you."

"And CSE?"

More looking through the folder. "Computerized Stimulation Enclosure. I think that's Dr. Howard's thing. Again, not a clue as to what it is, but I don't have any qualification items for it, so I guess it's one-size-fits-all." She laughed, for the first time since we'd begun.

"You said Suzy would see me. So, am I in?"

"As a matter of fact, you are. You're qualified, you're not too big or small, and they've been pressuring us to get somebody they can work on, so, yes, you are in. Are you available on Friday afternoon at two?"

My rent was due on Saturday, my Friday afternoon scriptwriting class I could skip, so I said I was.

"Then we're set. But, one thing you have to do. You have to shave your genitals. Have you ever done that?"

"No, I haven't."

"It's not hard with the right equipment." Ms. Coates grabbed my scrotum and pulled it. "The long hairs here and around your groin you should get with a body shaver or beard trimmer. You can use a comb and scissors, but it's hard to see what you're doing. Maybe a friend can help?"

"I'll do it myself. I have a beard trimmer."

She was still pulling my scrotum. She ran a finger along my shaft. "Most men don't have any hair on the penis itself. I don't see any, so nothing to deal with here."

I couldn't believe this sexy woman and I were discussing my penis and balls as though they were inanimate objects, rather than my sex organs.

"After you use the trimmer, sit in a tub of warm water for a few minutes to soften the hairs. Or, a hot shower if you don't have a tub. Then just use shaving lotion and a razor. I'd recommend a throwaway if you don't already shave with a razor. If you do, make sure you use a new blade. Go very slowly, and make sure you put a little tension on your scrotum."

"Thanks for the tips. Can I get dressed now?" My erection hadn't gone away. Not with Ms. Coates around.

"Oh, yes, by all means. Show up here by 1:45 on Friday, shaved, and showered. I mean, shaved down there. You'll be here for a couple of hours, so you'll want to have had lunch."

Ms. Coates said goodbye and left the room. I pulled my briefs and pants up, took the folder of papers she'd left for me, and went back across campus to my apartment. Of course, I immediately stripped and jerked off.

All the rest of the day, actually, the whole time as I was waiting for Friday, I couldn't quite come to terms with what was happening to me. I'd just been naked and had my balls and penis handled by Ms. Coates, and yet I seemed to be OK with it. That was so strange. I should have been frightened, or nervous, or embarrassed, or even humiliated by the measuring. But I honestly didn't feel any of those things. I felt excited and stimulated, in a good way.

On Thursday I shaved my balls. It took a couple of hours, mostly because I was afraid of what the razor was going to do. I cut myself only twice.

What in the world was that ARSD that was just barely going to fit my penis? I translated 13.7 centimeters to 5.7 inches. According to a few web sites, that was indeed very thick. So, if nothing else I knew one thing: That my average-length cock was way above average in thickness. No, I knew two things. The other thing was I liked being naked. How naked I guessed I would find out on Friday.

Finally, Friday morning came. We saw a documentary in my Post-War Japanese Cinema class, but I couldn't tell you what it was about. I was too nervous to eat lunch, but I forced myself to ingest a veggie burger. I took a quick shower, took care of a few stray scrotum hairs with my razor, got dressed, and headed across campus to the Institute. I tried not to think of what awaited me there. I wanted to see more of Ms. Coates but figured she was just the interviewer, and she probably had no need to see me. Damn.

That cute Reproductive Medicine receptionist had been replaced by an equally cute different undergrad. They probably worked only a few hours a week. I was used to lots of great looking girls on campus, but the South Coast Institute seemed to have the cream of the crop. I figured I was going to see Suzy and Dr. Howard. What would they be like? And, why all women? Maybe I could ask about that.

After a short wait, two females approached. One had short brown hair and was flat-chested but in a sexy way. She was wearing tight jeans. Her glasses were back on top of her head. She was Asian, probably Korean, like my girlfriend I'd broken up with last year. The other had long blonde hair that framed her high-cheek-boned face. Strangely, for a professional office like this one, she was wearing very short shorts, exposing slim legs that seemed to go on forever. Her T-shirt was tight around her perfect breasts.

The blonde smiled and spoke first. "I'm Suzanne Katz. Everybody calls me Suzy. This is Yejun Keem. I'm a biomedical engineer, on the staff here at the Institute. Yejun is a staff computer programmer."

"I'm Ken Laurent," I said.

"Yes, we know. We've been expecting you, and we've planned today's experiments with you in mind."

I was alarmed at the use of the term "experiments." I preferred Ms. Coates's term, "procedures." I asked, "Experiments?"

Suzy answered, "Two main ones. First, the ARSD. Yejun and I will take some time to set it up and calibrate it. Then we'll call in Dr. Howard, who wants to test her CSE."

I'd forgotten what those letters stood for, and I wanted to hear the explanation from Suzy, anyway. "What are ARSD and CSE. Ms. Coates told me, but I forgot."

Yejun supplied the answer. She may have been Korean, but she spoke with a Texas accent. She'd obviously been born in the US. "Automated Response Suppression Device, which is what I wrote the program for. Suzy did the mechanical engineering and fabrication. It senses male sexual response and suppresses it. So, it basically does what the name says."

"It's some kind of drug? Like a sort of Viagra opposite?"

"No, no, no," said Suzy. "It's instantly reactive and entirely mechanical and electrical. When your penis starts to react to stimulation, it senses the response, feeds the data to Yejun's program, and then a different electrical signal suppresses the response."

"You mean I get shocked?"

Suzy continued. "No, it's very low voltage, and you won't feel anything from the device. But if you think of your penis approaching an edge, it will back away instead of falling off."

"And this thing actually works?" I asked.

Yejun answered. "On apes. You're the first human subject. But, there's no danger. For you, anyway. For us, it might not work, and that will set us back. Actually, Dr. Howard has said more than once that she doesn't believe it will work. That's why she's not here now. If we get it to work, we'll call her."

I was worried. "So, if I understand, you two are going to try something on me that you've never tried before on a human, and the Professor doesn't even think it's going to work? What, you're going to play around with me while you're figuring things out?"

Suzy smiled, but it was a nervous smile. "Not that bad, don't worry. Mechanically, the device will slip on easily. That's why Abby took your measurements. It's just that we'll need some time, maybe an hour at most, to calibrate Yejun's program."

Yejun looked impatient. "Maybe we should get started. We can explain more as we go along. You already agreed to work with us, remember?"

She didn't say it rudely, but more as a plea. I wanted to help these lovely young women as much as I could. "OK," I said.

"Any more questions?" asked Suzy.

"Well, yeah, I guess. It seems that everyone here is female. Except for me, that is."

"The Institute was founded in 1925 by Henrietta Barkley. Maybe you've heard of her? The first licensed woman surgeon in California. Anyway, she thought more women should be allowed into medical training, so she set up this Institute to employ only women."

"That's legal in California?" I asked.

"Must be. Somehow, that's the way we operate. If you have no other questions right now, we need to get going. If anything else comes up, just ask."

I followed the women down the same hall I'd been to on Tuesday, but to a larger room with not much in it other than a large massage-type bed in the middle, some folding chairs, and a wheeled rack with what looked like a bunch of computers and other stuff on it.