Processing Season I

**Processing Season I (Male World Order, part 8)**

**This story is a work of fiction and all characters, events, and locations described in it are purely fictional. No resemblance or connection to any living or deceased person or real-world event or location is intended.**

...

Med Tech Fifth Beta Craig Peele stood nude with his arms outstretched, behind a Krispy Kreme, shielded from the view of the road by a dumpster. The officers performing his 'Health, Safety, Welfare and Morale' inspection had gone over every inch of his body starting with his head down to his toes, and were now doing it again working up. Craig was slightly aware that he had an erection, though he didn't dare look down to see how much of one. Both of the officers had tweaked and groped at it passing by on their exhaustive survey of his body.

A man walked around from the front of the Krispy Kreme sipping a large coffee. "Good morning, Sirs!," he said to the two PB3s performing the inspection. They waved and nodded at him. He looked at Craig and sort of made a little shrug gesture with a half smile that clearly communicated "been there."

The officers made their way back up to his head and the officer in front of him made a final sweep of his mouth and throat with fingers he was fairly certain had been in his rectum just a few minutes before.

"Now place your hands on your head and wait here while I confer with my colleague," the bigger one said, while they walked off a few yards to talk. It soon seemed they were laughing at something displayed on their little rectangular device. Craig wished he knew what it was. He surveyed his clothes, laid out in a row on the pavement. At least it wasn't raining like the last time he had one of these, nearly three years ago.

The larger of the two officers approached him once more. "Alright Fifth beta, excellent inspection. Thank you. We've gone ahead and forwarded the full report to you employer so no need for a late pass, we've also forwarded it to your father as our records indicate he is your landlord, as well as your primary care physician. You are dismissed. Have a wonderful day!"

"Thank you, Sir. Enjoy your day, too!" Craig made the sign of obedience with his fingers.

The officers left him alone to gather up his things and dress, and he hurried to do just that. It was the busiest time of year at work -- post high school graduation -- and he knew he'd catch some shit with or without an excuse.

...

"You're late," Med Tech Fourth Beta Ellis Kolokoff said without looking up from his computer screen.

"I got pulled over for an HSI. They said they forwarded the report."

"Peele got peeled? Well I wouldn't know. They probably sent it to Dr. Wayne. He's late too," Kolokoff said, annoyed. "And you too! Is everybody always late in this state?"

Med Tech Fifth Beta Jules Partridge had just walked in the door. "Sorry, there was a long line at Krispy Kreme." He winked at Peele.

Peele just rolled his eyes.

At one point in history med techs were called "nurses," but after women had been barred from such professions, it was decided the term was too feminine.

These three med techs worked at the Southern California Federal Worker's Processing Center. When young men were selected for a period of indentured service, or worse, were designated as 'Compelled Laborers,' they came through the center to see where their skills and abilities were best applied. An exam with Dr. Wayne was the first part of the process, and his three med techs were there to assist.

A young, nervous looking man came through the door. "Uh. Hello. I'm here to report for my indenturement period," He said meekly while glancing about the lobby.

"Name?," B5 Partridge barked.

"Ethan Saenz."

Partridge typed and clicked around a bit. "You're not scheduled until 1315, it's only 0811."

"Yes, Sir. But they sent a bus to pick me up early this morning and I don't have anywhere else to go until then."

"Well we can't help you till then. You're gonna have to wait," Partridge gestured dismissively toward the waiting area.

"Dude, be real. We can squeeze him in sooner," Kolokoff butted in. "No need to be rude to a guy on THIS of all days of his life."

"Alright, give me your ID," Partridge ordered Saenz. "Hey Craig, call for a sec escort."

Craig Peele called for security to come to Medical and then went into the storage room behind the front desk and returned with a plastic storage bin. "B9 Saenz, place all your clothing and personal effects in this bin, and stand on the grating behind the blue line on that wall, keeping your arms at your sides at all times" Craig pointed. "If at any time today you need to evacuate your bladder or bowels you may do so whenever standing on a grating like that, but do so in a standing position and do not touch yourself." Partridge handed Peele a freshly printed ID bracelet and he attached it around Saenz's wrist.

While Saenz got undressed, two more 18-year-old men entered the building with the same nervous, confused looks on their faces. Unlike Saenz, they had morning appointments. They got checked in and were instructed to stand along the wall with Saenz.

Then a fourth and a fifth showed up, and still no Dr. Wayne.

"We may as well get their vitals put into the system," Kolokoff finally said, after two bull-like men from security arrived.

Kolokoff and Peele left Partridge to man the desk and unlocked the door to the main exam room. "Please stay on the grating your entire time in this facility unless instructed otherwise," Peele instructed the five nude young men. "Follow it to the large grated area in the corner. The men in grey are your security escort through this facility. Do not speak to them or ask them questions at any time today. They are only here for your safety."

The boys did as told. "Hold your arms straight above your head." Craig flipped a switch and a cold rain of mild sanitizing solution rained down on the boys. They inhaled sharply and gasped.

After the sanitizer cut off, Peele and Kolokoff went about taking the boys' temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and respiration rate. Then Peele's least favorite part. The young men were instructed to do 50 jumping jacks so their heart and respiration rates could be taken again. Peele could always tell it was painful for them to be jumping in bare feet on that grating.

But he knew every part of the procedures in place were there for a reason.

The boys were then called one at a time to a body scanner. "Saenz, stand on the yellow platform here with your arms out at your sides, palms up. Keep your eyes closed" Kolokoff ordered.

Saenz was 5'11", and 192 pounds. He was on the chubby side with puffy breasts nearing a-cups. He was sporting a bit of a partial erection of his stubby, fat cock, and one testicle hung surprisingly lower than the other.

Of course, none of these young men were checking in here because they were prime examples of masculinity. They were the bottom of the barrel.

A red grid of lasers appeared over Saenz's entire body as the round platform rotated him 360 degrees. Kolokoff then took an electronic stethoscope and got a visual readout of Saenz's heart and lung sounds.

They repeated the procedure with scrawny but horse-hung Stillwell. Then fat, freckled, squinting Howe. Then Sterling, a young man with a relatively fit looking body who kept sniffling and sneezing. Finally there was short, but muscular Ramirez whose huge thighs dwarfed his shrimpy dicklet.

The boys were led onto the next part of the pathway of floor grating and were given electronic tablets to fill out their health questionnaires. "If you have any questions, please direct them to either me or B4 Kolokoff. Again, do not attempt to speak to the security guards."

Outside the door, a new cohort of six fresh check-ins had lined up, and there was a naked homosexual in the waiting area who needed to be processed separately for the safety of the others.

Third Beta Dr. Richard Wayne finally burst through the door. "Good Morning, Sir," chimed Peele and Kolokoff.

"We've got five waiting for your decision. Looks like one's going to fitness camp and needs to see optometry. One's got some upper respiratory issues, and the other three can go onto Skills & Talents," Kolokoff added.

"Alright, alright." The doctor took a look through the reports. "Security, take Saenz, Stillwell, and Ramirez onto A&S. Kolokoff, run an allergy test on Sterling. Peele, get me some calipers so I can check out fatty here.

Peele did as ordered and the doctor had B9 Howe stand with his arms outstretched as he poked, prodded and pinched quite roughly and tightly over the lad's husky body with the calipers. "Yep, you're going to fat camp. Security, take this one to fitness enhancement."

The remaining security guard escorted the slightly bruised young man out the exit door.

They processed the next six rather quickly, all went onto Abilities & Skills.

Alright, let's get the faggot in here. HB9 Ormond would have been processed quickly too, except Dr. Wayne wanted to have some fun and had him do 100 extra jumping jacks after his second set of vitals. He then decided Ormond needed a good going over with the calipers as well, despite the fairly low BMI the computer had calculated.

Just when it seemed Ormond was about to be released to the next part of his processing, Dr. Wayne turned to Peele "hey, run an anal integrity on this one. Can't be too careful with a faggot."

Peele took Ormond off to the side and prepared him for his anal integrity test. Ormond stood once more with arms outstretched and his feet three feet apart. and Peele took two fingers and lubricated Ormond's anus and rectum. Peele then opened a case containing five blue plastic rods, cylindrical in shape, and two-and-a-half inches in diameter at the ends, very slightly narrower in the middle. They were all marked with different weights. The lightest was eight ounces, the heaviest was eight pounds.

"I'm going to place this in your rectum and you need to hold onto it without letting go for 90 seconds," Peele instructed before taking the eight-ounce rod and firmly shoving it into Ormond until the narrow part was right at his sphincter. Ormond grunted loudly. Peele looked at his watch for a moment and then let go of the rod. 90 seconds went by and Ormond was still gripping it tightly. Peele yanked it out.

He repeated the procedure with the one-pound. Ormond held onto it just fine. He did well with the two-pound as well, but Peele could tell the man was putting concentrated effort into locking his anal muscles around it.

Ormond struggled to maintain grip on the four-pound rod, and it fell out after just over 20 seconds. He could not hold onto the eight-pound rod at all.

Peele looked up at the poor naked young man and was reminded of his own Health & Safety inspection from that morning.

"Don't worry about the eight-pounder, I've never seen anybody hold it very long," Peele consoled him. "You did just fine."

"Thank you, Sir." Ormond said, speaking for the first time since entering the building.

"Security, take the homo to A&S," Dr. Wayne ordered. "Pretty fit guy," he admitted once Ormond was out the door.

They processed the next six. The next five. The next four. The next seven. So it went until lunch time, when Partridge had a family-sized bucket of chicken delivered and the men tucked in greedily at the front desk while the twelve naked, cold lads lined up on the wall awaited their fate. One shivering young man began urinating and this triggered three others to do the same.

"Usually they make it past A&S before that happens," Partridge quipped.

Halfway through the meal, a truck arrived to pick up the barcoded plastic bins containing the clothing and personal effects they had been collecting all morning.

Several of the boys from earlier this morning were waiting outside for transport with a security escort, now clad in the white t-shirts and flimsy white shorts that would be their uniform for the term of their indenturement. Ethan Saenz was among them. He waved at Craig, or as Saenz thought of him, "the nice one."

Peele smiled and waved back.

Before the doctor and his med techs could get to the twelve already lined up and waiting, three more arrived in shackles with police escorts. These boys needed no bins for their clothes as they had no clothes to begin with. Each of them had a large red "V" tattooed on his throat for "violent inclinations." They had been arrested at their POMAs for pre-crime, and were not designated as lower betas, but as compelled laborers for life.

The men processed these three as expediently as they could. Each needed to be unshackled for his body scan, and for safety was held at gunpoint the entire time. Dr. Wayne deemed them all satisfactorily fit for labor.

They processed the next twelve in two groups of six. Nine went on to A&S, two to fitness enhancement, and one was sent to a local hospital for a full panel of diagnostics. He would likely end up officially disabled and reclassified as a higher beta taking his disability into account.

This caught them up on their appointments for the day and the men attended to various administrivia.

An HB2 walked through the door and approached Peele. "Hello, I'm new in town and need to register."

"This is the wrong office, Sir."

"This isn't Male Assessment?"

"No, but you don't actually need that either. You need the Deviant Behavior Registry, Sir. I know it's all in the same building in other states, but California does it weird," He wrote down some instructions.

As the HB2 was leaving a young man in white shorts and a white t-shirt entered. "Uh, I need a health reassessment after medical leave. I had my appendix removed last month."

"You got a full 40 days for appendicitis? Lucky you," Peele said scanning the boy's indenturement badge and glancing over the screen. "Leave your clothes, shoes, and badge here on the counter and stand on the grating by that wall."

"You can handle this, Peele." Dr. Wayne said, lifting his head briefly from a half-nap.

Peele took the young man back, gave him his sanitizing shower and took his vital signs. Since nobody was looking, he allowed the indentured servant to step onto the solid floor to do his jumping jacks. His cock flopped around like an airpod rotor.

Peele performed a body scan and gave the young man a tablet to fill out his questionnaire.

Dr. Wayne released the B9(I) back to service as a domestic worker, impressed with his results. "That's the body of a B7 at least. Wonder why he's not."

The lull in the day continued on for a while. "Hey Partridge, Kolokoff, check this out." Dr. Wayne pointed to his computer screen chuckling. "Hey Peele, you know during your HSI this morning a fucking bumblebee landed on your chode and sat there for a full two minutes?"

Peele turned bright pink. The quiet part of the day came to an end as the afternoon appointments started trickling in. Some voluntarily reporting in after post-POMA leave, looking around nervous and frightened. Some with security escorts and anger in their eyes.

They processed them five, six, seven at a time. Dr. Wayne found a few more opportunities to have fun with his calipers. He loved to tease the fatties and faggots. To him, they were one and the same: men with no self-control.

By close of business that day the men had processed 191 of the newly indentured. And POMA season was just beginning. Craig looked forward to later in the summer when they would be back to annual indenturement physicals, stubbed toes, and stuffy noses. But deep down, he left the office feeling good. He believed he had done well for society. Had done his part getting these poor dysfunctional young men off to the best possible start in life they could have.

...

"Excuse me Fifth Beta," a police officer stopped Craig walking to his car. "You've been selected for a Health & Safety Inspection."

"I just had one this morning, Sir" Craig replied, holding out his fingers for a scan.

The officer scanned them. "Very well, Fifth Beta. Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you, Sir. Enjoy yours."

'Doing his job,' Craig thought. 'Just doing his job.'