The Imprint

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

From my visit downstate to Father's house over the Christmas holidays, I ended up taking my brother Josh, a recent law grad, back to capital land with me.

I knew my first day back would be hectic. But first, I had to dispose of a problem, my brother Josh I had been saddled with at Father's insistence. I didn't intend to have removed myself here to Capital land a decade ago as an undergraduate to have my brother move in on my quiet preserve on State Street.

Would my brother have expected to turn the clock back a decade so that we could go back to playing doctor? The time for silly games was over. I had established my independence and freedom from eh - frolicking with Josh. I was a real doctor now!

I had a busy first - day - back ahead of me. So, first things first, I had to get Josh down to the University Hospital for intake at 5 AM. Wholly apart from, making sure Josh was immured in the study, I would be very busy on my first working day post - holiday. Many things left unresolved in the haste to get away to celebrate Christmastide with family had to be dealt with. On the posit side, for the first time in a couple of months, I had a ride to the hospital.

As we boarded Josh's chevy for the ride down the hill, I assured Josh that my pass solved the problem with his car while he was in the study. As we descended down the hill to the Hospital compound, I exclaimed, "Top of your class, Josh! And with Father's connections, no firm expressed any interest." I posed the question, "How do you explain that?"

"Intelligence and sociability may not always coincide," Josh didn't laugh at his statement. He honked. An annoying sound that echoed throughout the car with such intensity I was afraid the car would rock. "On the other hand, as skillfully as you wield a scalpel, you never learned how to drive a car."

"We all have our gifts," I counted with a smile.

Father might have intended to punish me by forcing Josh into residence with me in my quiet preserve, a first - floor apartment in the stone building facing the park on State Street. Fortune, however, was with me.

"We made good time on the ride home—eh back to capital land." I commented to make some small talk during the brief ride.

"I suppose it might have been," Josh observed, "more comfortable than being crammed on an Inter - Urban Bus or the train at heavy holiday travel times." Oh, I knew, Josh didn't intend anything disparaging. That's the dry way - often misinterpreted as irritating - Josh expressed himself.

As we stopped across the street from the barrier at the entrance to the doctor's parking lot, the sun was still below the horizon. I took a deep breath. I tried to fight being overcome with pangs of guilt. "You're Okay with this study?"

"Why not? I'm looking forward to it. Collection of sperm," Josh went into that he - hawing braying sound of a donkey in a petting zoo that drove me wild, "would leave my genetic footprint on generations to follow."

I thanked God that someone else would have to deal with the prospect in the long run of head - butting honking generations sparking strife and with Josh in the short run.

"Besides," added Josh, "after two weeks, we're free to go to wherever we want during the day. All the program does is provide a place to sleep. It's a jerk off with a plus." I thought Josh would choke as he honked his amusement at his own remark.

"If you intend to wander around during the day, I hope you remembered," I replied, "to bring your suitcase with a change of clothes."

I instructed Josh to drive up to a reserved spot near the entrance. The recently painted over plaque read, REBECCA BARTON, MD, EMERGENCY RESPONSE TRAINING DEPT. My imprint here had been made.

Josh was suitably impressed, but expressed the accolade in a Josh - sort of way: "It's all about power, prestige and position. Here to control what will be most times an empty parking spot—You don't drive."

"I've been doing the job for a year," I explained, "The appointment became official January 1. By now, my name should be in gold letters on my door. No time to sneak a peek now. I have to get you in - processed."

"Oh yeah," Josh quipped, "in - processing. It's all about control. They strip you bare and inspect you like cattle. Clothing makes the person. Isn't that why a whole lot of institutions, private schools, hospitals, prisons and the army take them away?"

"Lets get inside," I spoke in my cheery voice I used to exercise control over a patient.

Before entering my office, I indulged myself in a moment of hubris. I briefly stopped to admire my name in shiny gold letters embossed on the door.

The job was skillfully done. The door had been re - varnished such that you couldn't see where my predecessor's name had been scraped away. After pausing to admire the new lettering on my office door, I carefully hung my dark mid - calf length overcoat with the ermine collar. Stressing presence and presentation, the overcoat might not have been as warm in the frigid gusts of capital land as a snorkel parka, but constituted an imposing professional presence. What did Josh just say? Appearance, presentation created an illusion of omnipotence, omnipresence and omni - proficiency, Godhood.

A little over an hour later, a few minutes before 6 AM, looking out the windows from the upper floors of the hospital complex, one could see a crimson edge surging around the eastern horizon. The weak winter sun would bring a cold, clear day. Fortunately, this meant no snow, rare for this time of year in capital land.

I was reminded of the time by the arrival of my secretary Sherry who wiggled her tiny tush into my office. For such a young person, she had a decidedly matronly style in attire: dark dresses with peter pan collars. At my short size and hefty weight, that style was intended to hide the excess weight. If Sherry, tall and lean, turned sideways, I might lose her.

Proudly wearing the white lab coat with her name stitched over the breast pocket, Sherry entered my office to present the agenda for the day. "When you write your memos for circulation, Dr Barton, you should remember that many on the Hospital Board don't really understand," her face contorted as she spoke, "medical - bull - jive. I've proposed translating it into English. The Board, even the med school administrators, are more bureaucratic functionaries than real MDs - like you."

I shook my head. I chuckled to myself as I approved the memos I—as edited by Sherry—was circulating. Give someone a lab jacket and they become a medical textbook editor.

"You have a meeting at 2 PM with the nursing and med school profs on your next disaster exercise," Sherry looked down at her notebook, "A drowning exercise. I need to make arrangements with a hotel pool—for a Sunday afternoon," her voice ended in a higher octave as if asking a question.

I nodded. That girl Sherry wore her hair in a bubble cut like a 30 or 40 year old. Why did she want to look so old?

"Next," Sherry went down her list, "There's a note circulated by the Hospital President reminding the medical staff to schedule their annual physical. Should I set an appointment for you?"

I mused. Sometimes the cheapest of gifts bring the most appreciation.

When Sherry reminded me of the Hospital President's directive which had to be answered, I shrugged my shoulders. "I'll deal with that later," I brushed her aside as I rose to hurry to my portal near the surgical showers where Josh along with others from the fertility study should be undergoing their intake physical. I persuaded myself that I wanted to make sure Josh hadn't wandered off.

Group physicals in such hospital studies were conducted in the nurse's showers adjacent to the surgery, as long as no surgeries were scheduled. Taking up my secret post in a hidden utility closet between communal showers, I used one - way mirrors on the right to spy on the procedure in the men's shower. Ethics prohibited me from watching the subjects undress and being prepped for induction into the study, but I saw no problem with taking up my roost once they were naked.

One of 12 naked men, picked for height and musculature, Josh stood in the line waiting for a physical inspection. Male participants were formally in - processed with scalps reduced to stubble and terminal hair (body hair - I began following Sherry's advice) shaved clean. Presenting a frontal plane (facing forward), the men stood rigidly their reproductive organs, hairless pink globs dangling free to await the application of the chastity device.

A recent law graduate, I reasoned, should fit in well among the brainy sorts selected to donate sperm. If Josh survived the intake physical, he would probably get along with the other `brainiacs,' a collection of law, med and business students.

When I entered my viewing post in the hidden utility closet and looked out the one - way viewing portal on my right, the naked men in line faced forward, concealing the tension by standing rigidly motionless. Their hairless scrota drawn close to the body betrayed the strain.

A surgeon I had encountered during my rotation in the hospital boasted of her aggressive promotion of the procedure to combat prostate cancer. "To perform a bilateral testectomy (castration)," she reflected, "I find it best to utilize the tendency of the scrotum to tighten into a ball and cling to the body during arousal, in the cold, or in episodes of fright. With the scrotum hardened in a ball,l it's easier to make the small vertical incision in the scrotum to reach and cut the spermatic cords and remove the testicles. 10 second procedure, easier than cracking a walnut, makes men more mellow, peaceable and socially compliant."

A great physician brought down in a sea of malpractice suits alleging unnecessary surgeries. The one complaint that delivered the coup de grace was the suit by a former wife of the patient which asserted that she was deprived of -hmm marital bliss? Oops that reminded me I had a number of issues to bring up with legal this morning.

Much as I was impressed by surgeon's words, I doubted that Josh or any of the other men arrayed in front of me, would want to sacrifice gonads to become more sociable.

Tall and lanky, Josh took the medial position, (dead center in the middle). His pectoral musculature was impressively developed. He may not have gotten a job, but he had visited the gym, no doubt on Father's dime. I sighed. I hadn't seen so much of Josh since right before I went away to college.

A female Doctor in scrubs wearing the signature white lab coat walked in front of the row, throwing a glare at each man. I restrained a chuckle. It never fails. As each man caught a whiff of doctor's scent, his scrotum curled up under the penis and his penis engorged. Josh's reaction was more pronounced; I noted a sudden fasciculation, a twitch of his penis spiraling downward like a drill. If Josh ejaculated during the prostate exam, as any men do, would he be disqualified from the fertility study?

I gasped. When Josh and I played doctor throughout our teenage years before college, I knew how much stimuli would bring Josh to a discharge. Inside the shower, Doctor attending would not need to conduct a digital exam of Josh's rectum to induce an emission. With Doctor's touch, as little as her firm hand on Josh's lumbosacral joint to hold Josh in the forward - bending - maneuver (bent over), Josh would experience a discharge.

My fear that Josh would be packed up and re - delivered to me was allayed when doctor working her way down the line, stopped at Josh, noticed his tumescent (swollen) gland and directed the nurse to procure a sperm collection condom. "Gentlemen," doctor announced, "it looks like we're going to have our first sperm sample right away."

The tension permeating the shower was relieved as all the men burst out in spontaneous round of laughter which continued until doctor paused in front of the first man in line and paused for a second to conduct her initial evaluation. The laughter renewed when doctor commented on his tumescence, (swelling of the penis), "I can see that you're happy to meet me."

Doctor was a bit saucier than I would have deemed professionally advisable.

After donning latex gloves to palpate—I started to use Sherry's method—translate into real English—fondle—the subject's scrotum, doctor in a pleasant voice which assumed compliance requested that patient, "turn around and face the wall, for me will you?" I sighed I had always impressed with the male gluteal prominence, butt, tight and flat straight up and down. Plain simple and direct, the male butt lacks the enticing, seductive swirls of the more complex female body.

"Now," Doctor, pressing a gloved hand on the subject's shoulders, asked in a tone more of a suggestion than a demand, "bend over for examination. Be a good fellow, reach behind you. Pull your butt cheeks apart." As doctor snapped fresh gloves over her hands, doctor in a cheery voice, "Time to check the exhaust pipe."

At that laughter came to an end. I noticed that the other men down the line craned their necks to watch doctor insert gloved fingers in the subject's rectum. The patient's gasp as doctor's fingers entered him echoed off the tiled wall and floor.

I was pleased Josh was far less dramatic. His body went rigid. Did Josh seem an inch or two taller? His penis, shrouded in a clear sperm collection condom, rose in an erection to a 9:15 horizontal position and began rhythmic convulsions as soon as doctor approached. She declared, "I never knew I had that much effect on men!"

Doctor signaled the nurse assisting to collect the sperm.

While a nurse handed Josh and some of other men some moist towelettes, the process of chastitizing, applying restraint to male genitalia began. This was my favorite part of the intake procedure into this particular study. I loved to watch the installation of the athletic cup shaped dome over hairless pink globs dangling from the body of the male participants. I always chuckled when each male jumped. It never failed. Hearing the click of the interdictor snapped shut over the male genitalia, the male no matter how tough would wince as he was left temporarily gelded

Today, I was more interested in the men because Josh was in the array. Josh jumped the highest when he heard the lock clicked shut on his genitalia. Served him right, I chuckled, too bad I couldn't have had Josh fitted with one of those when we were growing up.

What had that Surgeon quipped about her aggressive posture on the importance of testectomy in combating prostate cancer, "Enter a rambunctious, raging head - butting ram, leave a sweet little lamb."

My preference for the female participants was purely scientific, I assured myself. I generally found female bodies more fascinating.

On my left, were the women, hair shortened atop their heads, but elsewhere completely depilated. Generally, more attractive, taller, and slimmer than the average, the arrayed round butts presented interesting subjects to examine. Their demographics were different. Only one or two students were among the subjects. The rest included a couple of models and actress, a few hospital employees and some women employed outside the hospital. Several of the volunteers were friends or spouses of the males. Calmly evaluating the array, I would haven't minded playing doctor with any of them.

Perhaps, because it was harder to recruit women for these studies, the examination was preceded by a short address from the Hospital President. Her hair neatly styled in swirls atop her head, the Hospital President cast a presence when she daringly entered the moldy environment of the shower in a crisp striped suit with dark stockings:

"Thank you for participation in our fertility experiment," The director walked down the line and stopped at each participant as she spoke, "The hospital and medical school appreciate your contribution and devotion of your time and a significant part of your life to the cause of making parenthood possible for childless couples.

"I'm sure many of the practices," the director, standing in front of the array, looked from one girl to the next, "will seem unusual. As the test goes on, you will come to understand the reason for each and every procedure.

"For the first two weeks," the president spoke as she passed down the line with a smile from one subject to the next, "you'll remain locked down in the natural condition while we ascertain your body's rhythm by daily monitoring. In lockdown, each female will be fitted with a chastity device.

Holding up cylindrical object tapered like a phallus, the Hospital president explained, "It fits like a tampon. Like a tampon, while inserted, it makes attaining coitus, vaginal intercourse, - eh impractical," Looking down the array, she paused to allow the giggling to abate, before she added, "unlike a tampon allows bodily fluids to escape...

"We need to try to pinpoint your cycle," She faced the array, "and to figure the effect of ova extraction on your cycle. After the initial two weeks, you will be free to leave the controlled environment of the program between 6 AM and 6 PM.

"If your job or class requirements," the president rocked her head as if making calculations, "necessitate different or additional hours, we will be happy to accommodate your schedule."

"Because both male and female participants will be fitted with chastity devices, once the participants are accustomed to wearing the chastity devices, married participants can room together. Females released during the day to go to work or school can have chastity devices removed until they return. If any questions arise during the experiment, I expect to visit you from time to time to chat and address your concerns.

Holding up a finger, the director added, "Your contribution to this study and your sacrifices of your time and energies will help the hospital make its mark and take the lead in fertilization studies. And I hope," the Director looked down the line, "will be an inspiration to many of the very gifted members of my staff to join you in egg and," she looked down the line, "for our male friends in the other shower, sperm donations."

The examinations proceeded with far less melodrama, no doubt because women have inherent greater inner strength. I discount other hypothesis even though I have to concede that women's bodies do not as clearly betray states of arousal or fright. In the other shower, the women accepted the insertion of the Vaginal bloc with less theater. Women usually laughed so hard the hair shortened atop their heads shook when the nurse, inserting the vaginal bloc, announced, "the baby factory is closed; think positive; you and your guy or gal can still do you anally."

Oh gee, I looked at my watch, in a few seconds the corridor will be filled and my viewing post outed. Fun was over. I had disposed of a problem. It was time to deal make my imprint as a departmental head in order to deal with the demands of a busy day.