Behind us, the side door to the van suddenly opened with a start, us expecting to be hustled through the enclosure door. In the middle of the long seat were a pair of handcuffs. So, this is where it gets interesting, I thought, seeing the hardware.

We shrugged, me more than him, and got in, finding our seats a second time. The seat belt assembly locked around our chests. Our driver walked through the shower area, handing each of us a towel and a two ounce tube of cream.

"We will need to get rid of any beards, mustaches and stubble as well, for the doctor, I'm afraid. Leave the eyebrows, but rid yourself of any eyebrow bridges. This is similar to the shower, only it smells nicer and once toweled off, leaves no smell or tackiness. Keep it on for two minutes, and check each other so you don't miss anything. Then, once you are sure there isn't any more hair on your faces, towel it off. You can do it twice, but we don't want to do these things twice."

She looked at Mister Wilson sternly, but then looked back to me and winked as if being a bit naughty. Hum. Cute girl; make a nice seventh wife, I thought before she went on. "You can toss the towels and tubes in back of your seats when you've finished. Then, of course, we get to play a little; what you signed up for, I suppose. Once you're done with the facial hair removal cream, you can cuff yourselves behind the back. Not too tight, or you'll cut off the circulation. Of course, you can wait until we arrive at our next stop to have someone cuff you for you, but I don't advise it; the facility starts off a bit more strict than I like it; you know, kind of like basic training for the military; shock effect. Some guys break down, I think because they've not been forewarned and because they're not into the kink at all, I'm guessing." Again, she smiled and winked at me; definitely a player, I understood. "If you just play along it will be easy as pie, and then you just settle in for some fun. I can see that you, Mister Wilson, will particularly want to make it as easy as possible." She shut the door on us without answering the questions I was forming, as if her warning to my partner was the final punctuation.

OK, so here we go, I thought as I smoothed some cream over my face and what remained of my sideburns. Butterflies were in my stomach about the impending vacation fantasy. I hoped the motel was nice; myself already a bit tired from all the travel and coping with Wilson's freaking out. I would like it a lot better if I could check things out, I thought, and if I wasn't so tired, I realized, hoping the vacation picked up. So far it had been a bit of a bummer, always traveling in secret with Mister Bashful and with all the problems with things getting turned off at home still worrying me and now with the de-hairing thing, which I felt was a bit too long lasting for my tastes and apt to itch like hell when it all grew back. The pussy patch was plain ridiculous. Seemed a bit much for just a vacation, I figured, but they did say that the doctor insisted upon clean people, and we do know how revered doctors are, them being the owners of most of our institutions these days.

I heard the enclosure being lifted away from the side of the van - very organized, these ladies. Then the van started up, even Wilson getting a clue and smearing his face by then. I decided to ask him to check for coverage, which he managed to do without weeping. A few minutes later the van had cleared the ferry and was moving along nicely on some kind of super highway, and we were toweling off. Smooth faced, we cuffed ourselves behind our backs, each making sure the other wasn't too tight, and then settled in for what was a surprisingly long hour of driving. For all I knew, we could have driven two states over, or even to Canada by now, I mused, as we stopped and I heard some gates being opened. I should have at least asked where the vacation was going to be.

I was sweating like a pig, unable to open up my pits with the cuffs on, but of course, with all the perfume on me, not in need of anything to cover the smell there. The van came to lots of jolts and short moves, as if we were in some sort of line, and then the door opened and we were staring out at a brick wall with a yawning metal door. The seat belt device having swung clear, we both got out, awkward with our hands chained behind us and being naked as jaybirds.

The pavement under our feet was strangely course; old world brickish. Beside the door were two burly looking women, Gloria having apparently vanished. Up front and behind our van, other vans sat, the ones behind unloading into their own metal doors, and the one directly in front of us doing the same. This must be delivery time, I realized, the operation seemingly huge and suddenly efficient. Beyond the front and back, more walls and my first glance of barbed wire over the tops of the two buildings blocking my view of anything else.

They hustled us inside with stun guns as prods, me very much displeased with the hardware; it seemingly inappropriate for a vacation. Stun guns have been known to hurt men with bad hearts, you see. Once in, the metal door clamped shut with the two guards on the other side of it.

The room was small, brick, and from what I'd seen outside, one of many that must be running parallel to the face wall I'd seen others being unloaded into, each about as wide as the vans that loaded them. Four parallel plastic seats were bolted into the floor and a monitor was in front of that, it chained to the wall. Beside the monitor was another metal door. I tried the door by twisting around with my cuffed hands, but it was as locked as the one to our backs. The whole thing reminded me of an experience I'd once had at DisneyFutureWorld, where everyone was hustled into parallel rooms so that they could load each row of seats more efficiently when the caterpillar of seats stopped in the tracks just opposite the door. Maybe FemWorld was like that, a big ride experience, sort of a funhouse?

Then the monitor clicked on and a new woman's face appeared, it too delightfully pleasant to the eyes to be real, and yet it seemed like a real woman, she sitting on an ornate chair in some sort of pastoral field. Birds chirped sweetly.

"Gentlemen, I am so pleased to be able to greet you upon your arrival at the most exciting fantasy experience every promoted to the general public. FemWorld salutes you upon your choice of adventures. Before I go on, please feel free to find a seat and get comfortable for this presentation which, though brief, is still designed as a rest between more stressful parts of the indoctrination. We are very interested in maintaining your health throughout."

We both sat down in plastic chairs, each a seat apart.

"I'm sure that by now you have many questions. The answers can be summed up by saying that at FemWorld, every imaginable fantasy is fulfilled for us and part of that is the wonder of your surrendering to the many surprises awaiting you. We hope to achieve the very best result from you, as you from us, and an open mind is all that we require as we step you into our program. We are so sure of our product that we are showing a 100 percent retention rate upon old customers in the free program; truly a testament to the power of our female domination program's thoroughly researched techniques.

In the process, of course, as volunteers into our free program, you will be challenged to do some work study assignments along the way, but certainly not anything beyond the sort of labor one would expect from a male slave in need of a firm female hand. Oops! I'm such a tease. Are your little penises trembling with expectation?" She laughed, a giddy little girl sort of laugh that belied her middle age, but I found the playfulness comforting, while imagining the claims a bit overboard.

The camera panned back and we both noticed the head of a man nudging up from under the long, pleated, formal-grey skirt of the seated lady making the presentation. We could see no further down. Her hand patted her skirt where the head slowly bobbed, making my penis rise, I can tell you that.

In the background, a couple of men walked by in the background. They wore what looked like black thongs, but they were too far away for me to tell for sure. Each had a tray in hand, liquid refreshments on each, and as they moved across on tender feet, behind the speaker from left to right, a much younger Mistress came into view. She had a little crop in her hand, she whisking it from side to side - almost a playful gesture. One of the men looked back with a smile. We could hear the distant Mistress saying, "Oh, please, George. Don't doddle; least not until we get to my roommate's cottage! Can't be all fun and no work as you go, can it?" She tapped him on the knee playfully, and he scooted forward with a laugh. Mister Wilson, beside me, sat up in his seat, a new face of expectation upon his mug instantly having grown.

"We will start things off with some formalities. Many of you are aware that we start you off at class 5 health care allowances while under our care, and insist upon a full examination by our staff doctors. Any health issues will be instantly dealt with, including any determined nano-upgrades that can be prescribed out-patient, just as promised. Then, with your records complete, you will meet with your pheromone matched counselor who will marry you up with the perfect program for our needs and then the appropriate orientation counselor will welcome you in person to our female dominant wonderland. We do have all the paperwork needed to place you immediately, but we've found much more satisfying results by being able to insert a face to face official signing ceremony with your pheromone match. In fact, most of our men have shown remarkable interest in their pheromone matched counselors as mates, and there is no harm in asking, not a one of them with a husband because as soon as they marry, they are reassigned. That's a FemWorld requirement, in fact; that none of our counselors have yet to find their man, but with so many available ."

The camera panned in, we losing the bobbing head.

"Oh, I can see the interest peaking. Yes, many a woman has found happiness at FemWorld. While women find the place charming, men find it the fulfillment of a lifetime of submissive thoughts. So, hang on for the ride, and when the doctor is free, the door in front of you will open and you'll be taking your first step into our world of female control and the fulfillment of our fantasy, starting with all the free medical upgrades your little body can stand, just to prove our sincerity at delivering a service that will change your world."

The music swelled, and then the monitor went blank. I had been nearly hyperventilating, and had to take a few slower breaths. Mister Wilson had his legs squeezed tight around his dick, making humping motions, as if trying to masturbate secretly and with his hands behind his back. He noticed me looking over and feigned a cramp.

We sat there, imagining the place with a newfound thrill bubbling up within us, but time passed slowly, and when the door didn't open, we grew restless, soon taking to standing and walking around the chairs; a couple of chimpanzees in a box. Finally, the door opened, and the words, "Mister Wilson," came out of the seemingly dead monitor's speaker port. I shrugged a gesture of good luck to him as he gave me a smug look back that said he was luckier than me to be going first, and by goddess, I believed that he was. Then, after awhile, it opened for me and I went into the hallway.

"Mister Anderson. Report to room 152, please," sounded in the hallway. A couple of other men were reporting from other doorways, and a few leaving what I imagined were the examination rooms in several long connecting hallways. Little signs read, '001-050', '051-101', etc. As soon as I got to 152, the door sensed me and clicked opened a couple of inches, as if knowing I had my hands cuffed behind me. I hit it easily with my nose, springing the door the rest of the way and stepped into the examination room.

A little sign said, 'Sit on the bed and wait, please.' Hurry up and wait, just like the Army, I thought, as I sat down on the paper covered examination bed and awaited my free medical, thinking I'd just won the healthcare lottery.