Health, Safety, Welfare, and Morale

Health, Safety, Welfare, and Morale (Male World Order, part 2)

"Sixth Beta! Hey, Sixth Beta!" Police Third Beta Christopher Salinas, shouted to the man in blue plaid. "Yeah, YOU, over here!"

A man in his mid-40s, attractive as far as B6es get, with green eyes, a salt & pepper crew cut, and a dimpled chin crossed the busy street to approach PB3 Salinas. "Yes, Sir! How may I help you, Sir?," the nervous-looking man choked out.

Salinas was a lean, light-olive skinned man of 5'10". He was nearing 50, but his hair and thick lustrous moustache were still dark. Despite his slight frame, he had a strong authoritative presence as one would expect of a Third Beta.

"You can start by not jaywalking on my streets like you just did."

"Oh. I'm deeply sorry, Sir. That won't happen again." The man seemed to be struggling to keep his composure.

"It's all right, calm yourself. I just wanna ask a couple questions," Salinas reassured him. He expected this kind of skittishness from a B9 or B10, but a B6 should have been much more put-together than this. It wasn't dignified. It wasn't masculine. "What is your name?"

"It's Timothy Staunton, Sir."

"Where did you get this suit?" PB3 Salinas was fingering the material of the lapels.

"It belonged to my great-grandfather. I know we're supposed to be careful about antique clothes, but I checked and all the colors and materials are approved for streetwear." Timothy explained. "It's a windowpane plaid and that is approved too, Sir."

"Calm down. You're not in trouble. It just looks a little out-of-place. We wanna make sure everyone fits in, don't we?"

"Of course, Sir! I wouldn't want to cause a scene and if..."

"Quiet!," Salinas interrupted him. He used his tongue to press a tiny button on his left rear upper molar, and silently subvocalized for his partner to join him.

While he waited for PB4 Goodacre to arrive, Salinas grazed Tim's face with back side of his hand. "Did you shave today?"

"Yes, Sir. Every day."

"It's not even 2:30 and you've got a 5 o'clock shadow. I'm not gonna write you up, but you need to watch that."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I guess I was rushing today and not close enough. It wont happen again."

"Thought about Permashave? Really doesn't hurt like it used to. I got it." Salinas started to hold out his baby-smooth face for Tim to touch, but then realized a Sixth Beta would never dare. Certainly not this one.

"I've been on the waiting list a while, Sir."

Salinas reminded himself to appreciate that things could work a little slower for B6es.

PB4 Brandon Goodacre rounded the corner. "Hey! What's goin' on, Sir?" The men bumped their fists together and clapped each other's backs. 26-year-old Goodacre was a 6'4" big-muscled bull of a man with a golden shock of hair and arctic-blue eyes who played rugby on his days off.

"Look at this guy and tell me what I'm thinking," Salinas replied.

Goodacre eyed Timothy up and down. Something was off about him, but he couldn't put it into words. He thought for a moment.

"Don't see anything?," Salinas asked.

"It's that fuckin' suit. Not any specific thing about it, but it's just off. It doesn't fit in with..." Goodacre gestured with his hand as if to say 'all of this.'

"My thoughts exactly." Salinas then turned to Tim Staunton. "Sixth Beta, I'm making a mandatory recommendation you not wear this suit again in public. You've done nothing wrong here and you're not in any trouble, but this suit is not conducive to social cohesion. How far are you from home?"

"Four blocks, Sir."

"Go home and change. You are dismissed."

Timothy placed his index fingers and thumbs in a ring shape over his chest. "The word of the law is the law."

The officers joined him in unison in the middle of the second word. Tim walked toward the intersection.

"We reach quota yet, Sir?," Goodacre asked.

"Just three more peels."

"We could peel this guy." Goodacre pointed to Tim, who was still waiting for the light to turn.

Salinas gave a 'why not' shrug. "Hey, Sixth Beta. One more thing!. Tim turned around and Salinas gestured for him to return.

Tim Staunton half-jogged back to the officers. "Yes, Sir?"

"We're just gonna go ahead and do a quick Health & Safety Inspection for you," Goodacre said, trying to sound friendly. "Follow us!"

Tim followed the officers around the corner and into a shaded alleyway behind an old apartment building from the late 1900s.

"Right hand," Goodacre ordered.

Tim lifted his hand and Goodacre placed his first three fingers on a glass-and-metal rectangular device he pulled out of his pocket. After the device chirped, Goodacre dropped Tim's hand and started to read.

"B6VAQS64657718 Timothy Waltham Staunton. Born 6 June, 2024 in Richmond, Virginia. Accession to Manhood as Sixth Beta: 18 July 2042 at the Hampton Roads Federal Male Assessment Center. Current residence: Norfolk, Virginia. Employed as cleaning technician for Tidewater Joe's Carpet & Upholstery since 12 February 2063. Unmarried. No children. No warrants, no priors and uh..." Goodacre scrolled through the device. "No HSI in the last year so this peel counts for quota."

"No masculinity reassessments in there?," Salinas subvocalized to Goodacre."

"No, sir, but I see you're thinkin' what I"m thinkin'. He mighta been B6 fresh outta high school, but he ain't now," Goodacre replied. "Poor guy. World probably just got to him."

Salinas was equal parts amused and annoyed that he was beginning to know Goodacre well enough to pick up on his speech patterns and emotions over the subvocalizer.

"I've been thinking about that blue suit," Salinas subbed back. "There really isn't anything wrong with it. I don't think it would look out of place on any other B6. Just wasn't right on this guy."

Salinas turned toward Tim. Like he had thousands of times before, he rattled off the inspection preamble like an auctioneer:

"All right, Sixth Beta, listen up. You have been randomly selected for a routine Health, Safety, Welfare and Morale Inspection. All male citizens ranked Fifth Beta and below and mid- or low-beta equivalent foreign nationals are subject to routine inspection a maximum of once every 120 days. An unsatisfactory outcome may result in a scheduled or surprise re-inspection. This process should not be construed as punitive or investigative of any crime or wrongdoing, but any evidence of crime or wrongdoing uncovered during this process may be used in a court of law. This process should take no more than fifteen to thirty minutes. If you need a tardiness excuse for your next destination, one will be issued. If you have missed transport to your next destination, new transport may be arranged. Law enforcement personnel will attempt to find a reasonably private location in which to conduct the inspection, but total privacy cannot be guaranteed. Law enforcement personnel will attempt to find a location reasonably guarded from the elements during inclement weather, but total comfort cannot be guaranteed. No outdoor inspections will occur in temperatures less than 40 degrees Fahrenheit. If you have already had a satisfactory HSI in the past four months, please inform your inspectors. All inspections require the presence of a minimum of two law enforcement officers. Inspection reports, including any photos or video taken during inspection may be forwarded to your health care provider, employer, educational institution, housing authority or others as deemed necessary."

You are not to move or speak unless specifically directed to or asked a question for this entire process. Do you understand?" He said more slowly.

"Yes, Sir."

"Remove your jacket and hand it to Fourth Beta Goodacre. Do not make any sudden or jerky movements."

"Yes, Sir." Tim did as he was told.

Goodacre took possession of the garment and inspected the pockets. He removed a wallet and a small notebook. He placed the objects on the ground before hastily folding the jacket and placing it next to them.

"Same thing, shirt this time," Salinas ordered.

The process repeated with his pants, his socks, his undershirt. Tim was now standing in his white briefs with his clothing roughly folded in a long row down the alleyway. Salinas noted the front of Tim's underwear were slightly wet. No doubt from their earlier interaction.

The back door of the building across from the apartments opened and a man in a paper hat and flour-dusted apron exited with some garbage bags and threw them in the dumpster.

"Good afternoon, Sirs!" he said, making the sign of obedience. There was sincere reverence in his voice, bordering on adoration. Salinas liked to hear that. Inferiors should admire and look up to their superiors, not choke and cower at them.

"Good afternoon, Seventh Beta! It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It sure is, Sir. I love the Fall. Would either of you like some coffee or fresh pastries? On the house, of course."

"No, go about your day," Salinas replied.

"Get me an eclair and a cherry lime Freezi, extra large!" Goodacre shouted, lighting a cigarette.

"Yes sir, just a moment." The Seventh Beta hopped back inside.

"Sure you need that?" Salinas stuck his stomach out and patted it.

"Hey somebody's gotta bake the eclairs and somebody's gotta eat 'em. Way o' the world," Tim joked. "And I seem to recall beating you on our last fitness check!"

"You're fuckin' 26, I should hope so," Salinas replied.

Timothy just stood there in his briefs as the men joshed around, shivering.

"Alright, underpants now," Salinas returned his attention to Tim.

"Yes sir." Tim removed them, and stood fully exposed in the alleyway. Tim was moderately fit, for his age. He was a bit overweight, but his broad shoulders and large pecs helped him to carry it well. He had a fine, even coat of light brown body hair from his chest to his feet. Not even his pubic area or armpits were more densely covered than any other part. His skin was clear and firm, and lightly tanned.

On a good day, Tim's genitals might have been described as slightly larger than average. But standing naked in the cool alleyway for this inspection had caused his balls and very tightly circumcised penis to be pulled close to his body, somewhat deflated.

"Careful, he pissed himself a little." Salinas said as Tim handed his briefs over.

"Well that ain't nothing new!"

Salinas closed the distance between himself and Tim and began his inspection. "Head down"

"Ye..."

"Don't reply, just do it"

Tim bowed his head. Salinas took a small aerosol can and sprayed his left hand all over with glossy black InstaGlove. He shook it dry and then repeated the process with his right hand before tossing the can to Goodacre. He inspected Tim's scalp first, then his eyes, nose, and ears. Nothing to report.

He instructed the Sixth Beta to open his mouth and got a good look at his teeth. He shoved two fingers in and felt around his gums, tongue and throat. Nothing to report.

"Now stand out here and face Fourth Beta Goodacre, with your arms stretched out wide."

Tim got into position as ordered. That back door opened up again and the Seventh Beta returned with Goodacre's eclair and drink. The green and pink parts of the frozen beverage gently luminesced in an alternating pattern. The B7 quietly ducked back inside and Goodacre took a big chug before setting his drink down. He placed that icy hand on Tim's ass and Tim gasped.

"Quit fuckin' around!" Salinas barked impatiently.

"Yes, Sir," both Tim and Goodacre answered back.

"Not you," Salinas glared at Tim, "and quit replying."

The InstaGloved officers went about palpating every inch of Tim's body, slowly and methodically starting at the top and working down, looking for any abnormalities, especially ones that might indicate illegal body mods. America was one of the last bastions of unmutilated human beings who weren't full of implants and chips.

Goodacre was palpating Tim's upper arms when he noticed that the man's penis was starting to firm up, despite the cold and his apparent nervousness.

Goodacre activated his subvocalizer. "Looky here," he said privately to Salinas. Tim heard nothing. "He's enjoying this."

"We'll see," Salinas subvocalized back.

By the time Goodacre got to Tim's stomach, his girthy six-and-half inches were full mast. A single pearl of pre-ejaculate glistened at the tip.

Goodacre worked his way down. Tim's cock was now bouncing about and dripping. He grasped Tim's testicles in his hand and gave them a firm squeeze. Tim could not help but let out a low moan, try as he might to retain his composure. Goodacre squeezed gently and then firmly on Tim's cock shaft and an ooze of precum was produced like squeezing toothpaste from a tube. Goodacre took Tim's glans in his hand and gave it a small pinch. The man's entire body shook a bit and he squealed loud enough to cause heads to poke out of two apartment windows above.

A young First Beta escorting his grandmother to a late lunch paused at the scene and nearly turned back around.

"Please continue, Sir, Goody. Just a Health & Safety Inspection and we're almost done here," said Salinas, bowing his head piously to them along with Goodacre.

They passed, the old Goody giggling and cackling, theatrically shielding her eyes with a lace-gloved hand. The fine Shantung silk hem of her voluminous emerald-colored, bustled skirt grazed the nude man's feet as the Goody's personal maid struggled to keep it from dragging in the dust of the unwashed alleyway.

"The shortest path doesn't necessarily have the fewest obstacles, dear," the woman playfully admonished her grandson. "A First Beta should know that. No more back alleys!"

The officers returned to work. While Goodacre started on Tim's thighs, Salinas spread his buttocks apart. No doubt about it, that hole was puckering and pouting like kitten looking for a nipple.

"High degree of anal reactivity," Salinas subvocalized to Goodacre.

Salinas worked up some spit and shot it right at the bullseye. He worked the tip of his thumb in and Tim moaned once more, and briefly seemed like he would lose balance. The men worked down Tim's legs to his feet, then switched positions. A double-check, working up this time.

Salinas reached the halfway point of the return journey and with the back of his hand, just ever-so-lightly grazed Timothy's glans. The man shook and moaned. He made several more passes, each a bit firmer than the last. Timothy seemed to get even harder. The veins of his penis throbbed and engorged. "Count down ten on my mark," he subbed to Goodacre. "Mark."

As Goodacre counted down ten seconds, Salinas kept a firm tight grip around Timothy's shaft. Tim grunted, got high up on the tips of his toes, and began thrusting like a stud horse.

Salinas didn't wait for the whole countdown. Enough was enough. This was shameful. The two officers made silent eye contact and nodded. Goodacre pushed on Tim's shoulder and instructed him to grab his ankles.

Tim did just that, and Goodacre lubricated two fingers from a small tube Salinas tossed him. With no warning or testing the waters, he plunged them fully and deeply into the man's rectum. Tim's legs started to shake and his whole body was shivering. Goodacre began a rapid back and forth punching movement with his fingers. Within moments, Timothy spilled a cascade of semen onto the dirty concrete. Goodacre pressed hard on the man's prostate as if to get the last few drops out of a lemon and a second batch of semen gushed forth. He rapidly and firmly massaged until all emissions stopped.

"Stand with your hands on your head and wait here," Salinas ordered Tim. "We're almost done here."

The two men went off to the side to confer privately. Goodacre reviewed video from the eight microdrones that had recorded the inspection. One, about the size of a fruit fly, had been sucked into the pastry shop's ventilation system halfway through. The other seven adjusted formation to compensate as best they could.

Before submitting his report, Goodacre gave it to Salinas to check over.

* SUBJECT APPEARS TO BE IN ACCEPTABLE HEALTH AND FITNESS AS DEFINED FOR AGE AND RANK

* GROOMING WITHIN DEFINED STANDARDS AS DEFINED FOR RANK WITH EXCEPTION OF:

* FACIAL HAIR GROWTH OUT OF ACCEPTABLE BOUNDS

* DRESS AND PRESENTATION WITHIN APPROVED STANDARDS AS DEFINED FOR RANK

* CLEANLINESS WITHIN DEFINED STANDARDS AS DEFINED FOR RANK WITH EXCEPTION OF:

* LESS THAN 100ML AUTHORITY INTERACTION INDUCED INCONTINENCE

* NO CONTRABAND NOTED

* NO UNAUTHORIZED BODY MODIFICATIONS NOTED

* SUBJECT SHOWED PROPER RESPECTS, OBEDIENCE, AND COOPERATION

* SUBJECT DISPLAYED A NERVOUS, TIMID DEMEANOR TOWARD LEOS INCONSISTENT WITH RANK OF B6

* SEXUAL RESPONSE TO INSPECTION OUTSIDE OF ACCEPTABLE BOUNDS INCLUDING ANAL REACTIVITY

* PRELIMINARY RECTAL RESPONSE ASSESSMENT POSITIVE

* SUBJECT DETAINED POST INSPECTION PENDING KINSEY ANALYSIS

* LEOS HIGHLY RECOMMEND FULL MASCULINITY REASSESSMENT

"You know, I promised the guy I wouldn't mention the whiskers," Salinas joked, clapping Goodacre on the back as he deleted that line. "Looks good. Send it. Let's get this faggot processed."

...

Police Fourth Beta Goodacre Looked up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 4:00 p.m. now. He was divided on which he wanted more: the time and a half or to get out in the crisp fall air and enjoy himself. Next to him sat Tim Staunton. Still nude. Handcuffed to the chair. His clothes and wallet were in a paper bag under Goodacre's chair.

A young, well-built redhead in a cream-colored cashmere sweater over a charcoal-grey silk shirt entered the waiting room and approached the reception desk. Nobody was there.

The redhead turned toward Goodacre, revealing an impressive set of genitals outlined by his fine woolen slim-fit pants. "Excuse me, uh..." the redhead paused "I'm a new Second, I'm not sure what to call you."

"Police Beta Fourth Goodacre. You can just call me PB4, Sir. Or Police Fourth if you like."

"PB4, I'm here for the registry," he pointed to the large 'H' tattooed on his throat. "Just moved to town. This is the right office, isn't it?"

"Supposed to be, but it's slow today. They've been in and out. I'm not sure what's going on, Sir," Goodacre replied.

'This guy sure has a lot of masc and charisma for a brand new B2. Usually B2 is something they gotta grow into,' He thought.

The redhead sat down across from Goodacre. "May I ask about the man you have there? He looks cold."

Timothy Staunton was indeed shivering. He had been naked for hours and his blood sugar was beginning to dip.

"B6. I can't go into detail on this Sir, but just following up on a couple things from a Health & Safety I performed on him today. I expected to have him processed in a lot sooner than this."

"You should find him a blanket or something before he gets sick," the redhead noted with the exact amount of authority in his voice necessary.

Goodacre felt a submission knot in his stomach. His testicles and penis, already contracted in an instinctive show of respect for the young man, shrunk up even further. "He's got a suit jacket here. Not supposed to give them their clothes back until they're released, but nobody'll know."

He dug the blue plaid jacket out of paper bag and placed it over Timothy's shoulders.

"Good to meet you PB4 Goodacre. My name is Kurt Alberts."

The men waited another fifteen minutes or so, chitchatting. Kurt kept catching Goodacre's eyes glancing out the window at golden glow of a beautiful autumn afternoon.

"It's a gorgeous day out," the HB2 said.

"Yes, Sir, it is. I was just about to pop outside for a cigarette and to let this one have a piss," Goodacre gestured to Timothy.

"I'll join you." Kurt did not have to explain to a police officer that he was barred from public restrooms.

Goodacre removed the jacket once more and left it on the next chair. He uncuffed the naked man from the chair and re-cuffed his hands behind his back.