Mack began to read:
THE ANDROMEGA STRENGTH
Seymour Simmons, Sy to his friends, felt particularly self-conscious and reluctant as he and his fiancee Pansy entered the Wadsworth Clinic. Though he was a tall, well-groomed, well-spoken man, there was no getting around the fact that he was very much a working-class guy, well-paid but still simply a truck driver, and that of the two of them it was the highly educated and professional Pansy who was marrying "beneath" her. It seemed to Sy that the demands of both class and sex were requiring him lately to leap through hoops of fire as though he wer some circus tiger. As he looked around at the large posh surroundings of the Clinic, complete with huge lovely wall paintings and near-Arctic air conditioning, he felt more like a specimen of a microscope stage than a client.
A cheerful woman named Angela invited them to wait innthe lobby, which oddly reminded Sy of the Howard Johnson Earthlight Room from the movie 2001. Before long a woman approached, a tall, glamorous, snugly-tailored woman with her long black hair swept back, her eyeglasses quit large. Despite her crisp, prim, efficient look, Sy could not help but notice the barely hidden contours of a spectacular build. It was all a bit disorienting.
Her voice was pleasant. "You must be Pansy Graves."
"Yes, I am."
"And you must be Sy Simmons. We spoke briefly on the phone." She held out her hand. "I'm Dr. Trista Adams." Her handshake with Sy was perfuctory and quick. "Let's all go to my office."
Sy shook his head at the sight of Dr. Adams' office. It was not only huge and well-paneled but almost completely lined with stuffed bookshelves. Even so, there was room for paintings and a sculpture.
Dr. Adams settled back in her large chair. "Pansy, I'm afraid that the tests we ran on Sy confirm your worries. Of course, we must begin with the fact that Sy, not to put too fine a point on it, is ... somewhat sub-standard. Most of the time, the shrinkage of his genitalia reduces him to almost nothing, and even fully erect his length is little more than four inches."
Sy fidgeted testily in his chair. He was hating this, hating cool reasonable women cruelly whittling his manhood to almost nothing with their hard sharp criticisms.
"Commensurate with Sy's genital deficiency is his seminal deficiency as well," Dr. Adams went on. "Pansy: you are not at fault, you are not to blame. But Sy is at fault, he is to blame, because his sperm count is almost zero. Now, let me understand once more: Pansy, you actually wish to get pregnant before getting married?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry, Pansy and Sy, ... but I fear at this time there is no approved way by which that I am permitted to assure your pregnancy, Pansy, by Sy."
Fri Aug 22 11:54:11 2003