A Job Interview at Pullen Wagstaff

The experience had been quite awful. A physical like no other. Peter had been told to drink plenty of water before arriving, had been offered and, indeed, required to drink glass after glass of water whilst waiting. He found he had to ask the so pretty receptionist where the 'Gents' was - it was not something he had liked doing, alluding to such a bodily function to a member of the opposite sex. He knew he was timid, knew he was shy but just could not help that. Equally he knew that, with his grades at university, his quick thinking and interest, he was ideally suited to the position at Pullen Wagstaff - and moreover desperately wanted the job, it seemed so right for him. It was not that he was being immodest. He weighed himself up pretty accurately and was sure his assessment was fair.

It was a surprise, a worry and downright uncomfortable to be told it was 'out of order' but the doctor was almost ready for him. He would 'of course' be giving 'a urine sample' so that would be 'OK, wouldn't it?'

So awful to hear the pretty receptionist use those words, to mention 'urine' and refer to that bodily function and smile so sweetly as she said it.

Peter sat for another five minutes, squirming in his seat.

"The doctor will see you now."

Of course the chances of the doctor being female were high, the chances of her being young high as well, the chances of her being reasonably pretty about fifty:fifty. She was all of those things.

"Ah, Mr Long, please take off your clothes for the medical."

"All of them?"

"Well, yes, I can hardly inspect your rectum otherwise."

Just so awful: woman doctor, no clothes, use of the word 'rectum.'

"Here?"

The doctor looked from left to right, "where else?" she said. "Hurry up."

He was shown through a door into a tiny little room with a door on the other side. It seemed more like a vestibule with its two doors. He was uncomfortable with that. What if someone came through the other? But he dare not touch the handle of the other door to see if it was locked. He could hear voices on the other side. Peter quickly stripped but his hand paused as he reached for the handle back into the examination room. He found he could not bring himself to open the door, just did not dare walk back into the examination room naked. He, however, had no choice. There was no knock, no tentative, 'are you ready, Mr Long,' the door was just yanked open and there was the doctor.

"Ready I see. Good. Come on, I'll begin."

"I, err, I am sorry, but can I first...I... I desperately need to go to the toilet."

"Not yet Mr Long."

Simply awful having to stand whilst his blood pressure was taken, his eyes and ears examined and his heart rate measured. He hoped the doctor had not notice but he was sure... no he had, he had actually dripped on the floor. His bladder was simply bursting.

"Good, now I want you to do some running on the spot so I can check your heart rate after exercise. Can you do that?"

Of course Peter could but not whilst he was so uncomfortable.

"Can I go to the toilet first?"

"Oh, you are so right, the urine specimen first."

"Oh, I meant..."

"Yes, yes but we do need a specimen so..."

"Where shall I go...?"

"Oh, no need to go anywhere. Just do it here. As much as you can. I'll get the jar."

It was awful, made worse by the receptionist bringing in the jar. The jar was not the usual specimen bottle but somewhat of a flagon.

"Shall I help Mr Long?" But before Peter could say anything, the receptionist had simply taken hold of his penis, peeled back the foreskin and tucked it into the neck of the jar.

Peter was dumbfounded. No one had touched his penis since he was small, let alone a pretty girl - and she had pulled back his foreskin exposing his glans, there it was inside and magnified by the neck of the jar, the jar she was holding. It looked grotesquely big.

"Come on, hurry up. I've others to see." The doctor tapped the glass with her metal pen. It made a pinging sound.

But Peter could not. Despite probably dripping earlier, despite his urgent need, he could not release his sphincter. It was bad enough at the urinals when men were next to him. He always had to wait until they had finished and gone away - but, with two pretty women staring at him and his penis, he could not do it.

"Men - ridiculous!" Said the doctor, walking away.

"Come on Mr Long," coaxed the receptionist, "you can do it." Her hand stroked his stomach.

There was a small squirt into the flagon. It made a very obvious tinkling sound in the room. But that was all.

"Almost, Mr Long, almost."

Her hand cradled his balls, gently massaging.

"This normally works," said the receptionist.

It did. The sound of water rushing into the bottle came strongly to Peter's ears and there was a great feeling of relief. The trouble was that the ball fondling had had an additional effect. Certainly it was very soothing but Peter could also feel a certain turgidity coming to his penis, it was growing within the confines of the neck of the flagon. Steadily larger and larger until it was quite erect but still with a steady stream pouring from it into the flagon until, all of a sudden, he found his flow stopping. It was strange, he was sure he had not cut off the flow. There was an odd feeling of pressure in his urethra.

"Go on," said the receptionist.

"I can't."

"What now?" asked the returning doctor. "Oh, Melissa, you know what you have done? You must not stick the penis so far down the neck; it has erected and filled the neck like a cork in a bottle. There is a pressure equalisation, the air in the jar cannot escape and the increasing volume of urine has increased the air pressure in the jar to the same pressure as Mr Long's bladder can exert. His urethra will be open all the way to his bladder but he cannot exert any more force. Try pulling."

The receptionist had her hands on either side of the flagon and was pulling, pulling at Peter's penis. It was really stretching it, but there was no sudden 'pop' like the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle. It would have been an amusing sight for Peter to have seen - pretty receptionist in white pulling at a glass flagon and stretching a naked man's penis - had he not been so involved.

"Oh, right. Get me some ice. Men!"

The receptionist gently let the flagon down so it hung from his penis. A large glass flagon with two handles and a considerable quantity of his urine left swinging between his legs, very uncomfortably pulling on his penis. It must have looked ridiculous - certainly he was fairly sure he saw just the hint of an amused curl of the lips from the otherwise stern doctor lady - and it was most uncomfortable. It was quite heavy.

The ice was wrapped in a towel around the neck of the bottle and slowly the cold penetrated through the glass to Peter's erection, the curvature of the glass acting as a magnifier distorting the view of the organ making the knob look absurdly large and swollen.

"Try pulling again now, Melissa."

Melissa pulled and, this time, with a sound just like a cork leaving a bottle, Peter's penis was free. But he had not stopped trying to urinate, had not closed off his flow, had not closed the sphincter; the pressure no longer equalised the flow carried on - right up and onto Melissa.

"No, no, Mr Long, in the bottle!"

The doctor grabbed his spraying penis and pushed the knob at the end of the flagon and held it there. Peter could see her hand was wet from his wee. He simply could not believe what was happening nor how full the flagon was getting - and his bladder showed no sign of being empty.

"Mr Long - look what you have done to my receptionist!"

And Peter could certainly see. There were streaks of wetness all down her front."

"Sorry."

When he finally stopped the flagon was almost full. The doctor actually tapped his penis on the end of the flagon, knocking the last few drops of it. It was obvious to Peter the doctor was experienced in penises but never had he conceived of a pretty woman shaking his penis dry after weeing.

"Well done, Mr Long, excellent capacity. If not for that upset you would have filled it to the brim. Now let's have a look at the other opening of your digestive tract. Bend over please; I need to inspect your anus."

It was just getting worse and worse. The receptionist, Melissa, had not gone away, and as he did as he was told and bent over, he realised he was displaying his bottom hole to two pretty women. Quite awful. A doctor was one thing, even a female doctor, but a receptionist? There was the sound of a rubber glove being snapped onto a hand. The sudden application of a cold cream to his anus and the feeling of a finger pushing at it. Presumably the finger belonged to the doctor not Melissa but, either way, a pretty woman was sticking a finger into his rectum.

The idea, the image! Sexual though it was, it was simply an examination and Peter desperately hoped he would not have another erection. The first time it had at least been inside a jar but if it happened now he would be fully exposed to the gaze of two women and if he turned towards them his penis would be pointing at them. It was the last thing he wanted, the idea of being naked and erect in front of two women not so much sexually exciting to him as terrifying. It was one thing to imagine alone in bed: quite another in reality. It was something he did not want.

"I'm just going to push this little measuring device into you. Not too cold is it?"

"No. ma'am."

"I'll leave it in until after the interview."

"Oh, ma'am, the medical continues after the interview?"

"Yes, it does, Mr Long, it has all taken a little longer than expected because of the difficulty with the urine capacity test. They are ready for you now."

"Oh, now? Oh, right. I'll get my clothes."

Melissa opened a door, it looked to Peter just like the one he had gone through to undress though he had sort of thought it was the one next to it. The door closed behind him. It looked the same little room only his clothes were not there and opposite was another door labelled 'Interview Room' with a lit red light above it. Peter felt suddenly a degree of panic. It got worse as the light turned green, worse still as a voice said, "We are ready, come on in Mr Long," but that was not the worst of it. He tried the door back into the doctor's room but it was locked. He turned back and found the door with the green light above it opening automatically.

His state of panic was considerable. As Peter tentatively stepped forward, what else could he do, he wondered: surely interviews were not conducted in the nude? And there he could see the panel of interviewers, not simply a single person ideally a man but a panel of five - three women and two men - he had so hoped for a male only interview panel but clearly Pullen Wagstaff believed in ensuring a balance of the sexes on its interview panels. It was no doubt a modern company very into equality of the sexes.

And even that was not the worst of it. As he stepped forward the chairwoman said, "Come on, Mr Long, we haven't all day. Come and stand before us" and as he did so he felt whatever the doctor had put in his rectum suddenly begin to throb. It was an intensely sexual feeling, an electric feeling, both intense and pleasurable but so much more so if he had been alone and in bed to enjoy it, and, as he walked towards the panel, he had the dreadful feeling that he was erecting. But that could not be happening - it just could not. The feel of his foreskin retracting as he stopped in front of the panel confirmed his fears and a quick glance down revealed his erection standing as high as it ever did. Naked, erect and being interviewed by a mixed panel for a job he so wanted to get.

"We believe it important that we see people as they really are unobscured in any way. We are interested in you as a person not how expensive a suit you can buy. That is good, your shoulders are back and you are not at all slouching but standing fully erect."

There were nods from all the panel and it seemed to Peter they were all, men and women, looking at his penis.

"Now Mr Smith here will ask you some questions and then..."

The interview proceeded very much as Peter had expected. The questions unsurprising, his answers, after an initial hesitation and uncertainty, reasonably coherent and fluent. It was all quite normal except for the nakedness and the tumescence. Peter tried to concentrate and give good answers and thought he succeeded, but every time he felt his penis losing firmness the thing in his bottom began to vibrate again and up he shot. Each vibration exciting, each successive sequence that much more stimulating. He was conscious of the danger it was producing, a danger his prostate might go into action. He tried to concentrate the more on the questions and forget his penis. That was hardly possible. The panel, on the other hand, seemed after the initial comment by the chairwoman as if completely unaware of his nudity and swollen penis. Peter, on the other hand, was so conscious that when he turned to one interviewer or another his penis turned with him and pointed right at that person.

"Have you any questions for us?"

Peter did, he had two questions about the job. Sensible questions he thought. The panel gave him helpful answers.

"Well, thank you, Mr Long. We shall be in touch."

"Thank you, ma'am." Peter turned to go. The ordeal over - and it had been an ordeal. The thing in his bottom was buzzing - an insistent stimulating buzzing. He was keen to get out of the interview before he had an 'accident.' The thought of his penis suddenly ejaculating during the interview had been a terrible one. He had felt, once or twice, that it had been a distinct possibility.

"Oh, Mr Long."

Peter paused and turned back towards the chairwoman, "Yes, Ma'am?"

She just smiled as if expecting a response from him. All the panel were looking at him with what seemed expectant faces. Peter was puzzled. What else did they want him to say or do? For his part he just wanted to leave. He felt he had done his best in trying conditions. Bizarrely they seemed to have wanted him naked but they could not have wanted or expected his tumescence. It was just not something you revealed to strangers. He wanted to leave before something worse happened but they were just looking at him and waiting - and then, all at once, he knew that the worse thing was going to happen.

He could not stop it. Peter felt the tightening and felt the thing in his bottom vibrate the more. The feeling built stronger than he had ever felt and grimacing, gasping and with his hips thrusting he found himself ejaculating standing there in front of the panel. He had not thought he could shoot so far but he saw his semen flying far ahead of him - out towards the seated panel members - he turned from one to the other of them - spurt after spurt, there must have been a dozen of them. And whilst he always thought his orgasms far too short this seemed to go on forever. The awful embarrassing experience etched into his memory: each look on the panel members' faces, each successive spurt, each dreadful moment. Each successive jerk of his erection. It was like slow motion, he saw his semen moving through the air. And the feeling... aaaah... the feeling... so intense.

He stood there aghast. His penis at full mast and gently dripping. Across the polished black marble floor towards the interview panel a fan of pearly semen.

"Thank you Mr Long. We thought you had forgotten to demonstrate."

Peter stumbled out of the interview, aghast at what had happened. It was one thing to be accidentally naked for an interview - and such an important one - but quite another to...

Out and through the anteroom, the door once more open. The doctor and receptionist were waiting.

"Mr Long, I need you to fully erect, now."

"What?"

"We need a semen sample. Normal procedure. We have taken urine, saliva and blood. A stool sample you can send later by post but semen we need fresh. Not from female candidates of course."

The receptionist giggled.

"But... but I just came."

"Pardon?"

"I... I've just ejaculated."

His penis was drooping and dripping.

"In front of the panel?"

"Yes."

"How could you? What a thing to do!" She was shaking her head. "Even so, we need a semen sample," said the doctor, "this is simply ridiculous. I can't just go and get it off the floor can I? We have not the time to spare to wait for you to have your male refraction time. We have other interviewees to examine. Look, sit there in the corner whilst we examine the next candidate. Then we will have to work on you."

"Doctor look, Mr Long is still producing. Will that do?"

The doctor looked, Melissa looked, and Peter looked. His limp penis had a final drip of creamy semen slowly growing at the end of his knob,

"No."

He sat in the corner exhausted by the interview - and the ejaculation. He was confused and embarrassed. It seemed not at all to be his day.

The next interviewee to be seen by the doctor was not male, not a bit of it. Not in that crisp white blouse with the buttons going that way, not with hips like that, not in a knee length quite tight buff coloured skirt, not with blond hair falling to her waist, leastways not when groomed as well as that, not with brassiere pushing at the whiteness of the blouse, not with a face like that either. She did not see him at first.

Her poise and confidence simply radiated. This, Peter, thought was the real modern young businesswoman. She unmanned him. Not that he was in much of a condition to be manly... He sat still and watched.

"Ah, Miss Short, please take off your clothes for the medical."

"All of them?"

"Well, yes, I can hardly inspect your rectum otherwise."

The exact repetition of his words suggested it was her stock response to pretty much what everyone said.

"Oh. Oh...um, where? Here?"

The doctor looked from left to right, "where else?" she said. "Hurry up."

She was shown through the door to the tiny little room just as he had been.

It came, all of a sudden, to him that he was about to see a very attractive young woman naked. He was about to say something, ask Melissa if he should leave, when he thought better of it. Everything seemed a bit strange at Pullen Wagstaff. It was perhaps best if he just sat quietly.

Behind the closed door Peter knew Miss Short was undressing just as he had done. Would she be puzzled at his clothes lying rather untidily there? The thought of the buttons to the crisp white blouse being unbuttoned pleasing, the thought of the zip of the knee length tight buff skirt being undone and the skirt lowered also pleasing, the thought of perhaps white brassiere and panties being removed stimulating - he wondered whether she been wearing hose? All undoubtedly stimulating as thoughts but hardly enough stimulation for a man who had just ejaculated to respond in a 'manful' way

So when Miss Short stepped from the cubicle she did not see Peter sitting in the corner opposite the door to her changing room with an erection up in front of his stomach: what she saw was a naked man looking at her. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock, her carefully crafted image of poise and confidence suddenly wobbling.

What Peter saw was a vision of femininity - all of it. He had liked what he had seen of her in her skirt and blouse, liked it very much, but this was the entire Miss Short. A woman indeed. Wonderful long legs rising to fine wide child bearing hips and the most pretty vee of hair clearly indicating that Miss Short's blond hair was completely natural; a flat stomach with a pretty and neat tummy button; above it all her goodly sized breasts, well separated and very much rounded, topped, of course, by pretty little pink nipples. Peter had already seen her face and long fair hair - he liked that too.