Cashless society

A silly little tale.  But could it happen in reality?  You decide.

Sometimes Dennis wished he’d been born a hundred years before.  ‘I mean, what was wrong with just using money anyway?’ he asked himself furiously, as the line in front of him to the check-out slowly shortened.  Or cheques, he thought.  I could really be good with cheques.  Just sign your name – done.

The man in front of him reached the checkout desk.  He wasn’t buying much – just a couple of pairs of socks.  Dennis, in contrast, was laden down with clothes of all descriptions. He tried to buy as much as he could each time.

“That’s £8.25, thank you sir.” he heard the shop assistant say.  “If you’d like to just place your penis into the scanner for ID verification.”

Dennis surreptitiously glanced past the man’s broad back, to see a large pink object being deposited in the half-cylinder on the counter, with an audible thwack.  After a few seconds, there was a quiet ‘beep’ and the penis was put back inside the man's trousers and he zipped up.  A small green light was winking on the device on the counter, with two red lights beside it.  Two red lights! Dennis stared with horror.  The WR-20s only had one red light.  This must be one of the new VC8000 models!  He’d only come to this shop because he was confident it still used WR-20s.  At least those usually worked after the third or fourth try.

He considered running, but it was too late.  The man in front had taken his socks and gone, and the sales assistant was smiling vacantly at him.

“All these is it?  Do you have a storecard with us at all?”

Dennis shook his head sullenly as he wondered why sales assistants all had that strange way of speaking.  Why put emphasis on the ‘have’?  And what on earth is ‘at all’ supposed to mean in that context?

But he couldn’t distract his mind for long from his impending fate, and soon enough the assistant was saying “That’ll be £458.75 altogether, please.  If you’d like to just place your penis into the scanner for ID verification.”

Taking a deep breath, Dennis opened his flies and pushed himself as hard as he could against the edge of the counter.  His penis, looking smaller and more shrivelled even than usual, just managed to cover the first inch or so of the VC8000’s black length. Nothing happened.

“Just be a moment” the shop assistant said, apparently to the air beside her.  “Sometimes it’s a bit temperamental.”  They waited a bit longer.

Eventually, she seemed to snap out of her shop assistant trance and notice that something wasn’t right.  She pressed an elegantly manicured finger to a button on the side of the VC8000.  Three red lights flashed angrily in response.

“I’ve never seen it do that before.” she said, uncertainly.  “Maybe we could try another – “

“My penis is too small to activate the scanner”, Dennis said, very fast and low.  “Please – it’s OK, you can take a manual ID verification instead.  You’ve done it before.”

“Eh?” the assistant replied.  “Shall we try another scanner?”

Dennis swore inside.  “No” he said through gritted teeth.  “My penis is too small to activate the scanner.  It won’t work in any of them.”

“Oh.” the assistant said, looking a bit worried.  She turned to the lady next to her and spoke in a singsong conversational voice: “Gentleman says his penis is too small to activate the scanner, Mrs Dawes.”

The older lady looked dismissive.  “Oh no – just shove it a bit further up.  They’re very good these days.”

“Could you shove it a bit further up for me?” the assistant asked brightly, and Dennis made a show of pressing his groin even more firmly against the edge of the counter.  Christ, his balls hurt.  The base of his penis moved perhaps two millimetres further onto the counter.  The skin wrinkled ever so slightly, the tip moved not at all.

Now several of the sales staff were involved, standing around and staring at the problem. Dennis didn’t dare turn around to see how many customers were in the queue behind him, but he could hear some shuffling feet and the occasional ‘tsk!’.

One of the ladies looked up and called right across the shop “MISS MARKHAM!  GENTLEMAN’S PENIS IS TOO SMALL TO ACTIVATE THE SCANNER!”  Dennis felt as if he would die.

A tall blonde lady, dressed all in black strode over.  Dennis estimated her age as mid-thirties and her attitude as lethal.  She fixed him with a cool stare.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

“Well, Miss Markham, the gentleman…” began one of the younger assistants.

“I asked the gentleman here!” Miss Markham snapped, giving her a murderous look. “Well?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

 

“My er,…” Dennis began, staring shamefacedly down.  He looked up and into the most piercing blue eyes he had ever seen.  She was holding a pen, which she started to tap steadily against her clipboard.  Her lips pursed.

“Small penis problem, is it?”

“Erm, yes.  You see I -“

“You have a penis that is too small to function properly, that is all I need to see” Miss Markham snapped back.  Several of the sales staff tittered.

“But if you can’t verify your identity, I’m afraid we’ll have to deal with you as a criminal” Miss Markham went on, the merest hint of a smile on her ruby lips.  I’ll have to take you off to our holding room and investigate the matter thoroughly.”  One perfectly lacquered fingernail pushed firmly against the clip holding the papers to her clipboard, forcing it all the way down and then letting it snap back with savage force.

 

“Unless of course, you can produce an adequately sized penis right here and now” she went on.  “Adequate for ID verification purposes that is. I hardly think that it would ever be suitable for anything else.”

She leaned forward to whisper in Dennis’s ear.

“And I see you’re wearing a wedding ring.  Please pass on my condolences to your wife.  You might want to let her know that our ladies department has a line of very discrete vibrators.  They come in lots of different sizes… all a lot bigger than that.”

(Yes, I know this scene has nothing to do with the story.  But isn't she wonderful?)

 

“The gentleman was saying as how he could manually – “ Dennis’s original assistant ventured, but Miss Markham just held her gaze to his in silence.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary” she murmured.

They looked down.  Dennis’s penis was no longer resting on the VC8000.  On the contrary, it seemed to have become self-supporting, waving uncertainly an inch or so above the scanner.  It had also become at least an inch longer.

Miss Markham smiled and lowered her clipboard, concealing the awful sight and firmly pressing Dennis’s cock down onto the black plastic surface.  He gasped with shock and pleasure.

There was a quiet beep and a light turned green.

Epilogue

Dennis’s wife, Mary came home to a room full of bags and boxes.  “Oh darling!” she gasped.  “Whatever have you been buying?”

“Anything I like!” Dennis replied, proudly.  “Well, as long as it’s available at De Lacey’s - but they sell everything under one roof, so why would that matter?”

“Oh darling!”, Mary remarked again (as ladies on this blog are inclined to do).  “But, erm… what about paying for them?  You know – your little problem?”

“Not a problem any more!” Dennis beamed.  He had a sudden thought “Oh – and I got you this.”

He handed her a gift-wrapped package and stood back.

“For me?” she asked.  “Oh you shouldn’t have”.  And quickly she unwrapped the ribbon and paper to reveal a long cardboard box.  She gently eased off the lid, to expose a long, plastic object nestling on crepe paper inside.

“Oh darling” she said, running her finger lightly along its length, gently stroking the ribbing, resting the tip on the buttons at the base.  “My sweet, silly darling.”

“Did you think I didn’t have one already?”

 

 

 

In this absurd story, the part of Miss Markham was played by the fabulous Mistress Eleise de Lacey.  When I started writing the story, she wasn't involved but she just arrived halfway through, and took over.

However, no resemblance of the characters to any person living or dead is intended.  Except the character of Dennis, who is very precisely based upon Servitor in all significant, and several insignificant, respects.