I strode into the building, in a wild rush, having very nearly bumped into multiple people on the mad dash to get to the registration counter inside with as much speed as I could possibly muster. Sorry, everyone! Time waits for no woman. Especially not on their 21st birthday.

Once inside, I took a cursory glance at the room around me and found my spot in the queue to talk to the workers at the registration desk. Ahead of me stood three women. I flashed them a quick apologetic smile once they turned around to face the door to the registration office, evidently having been caught slightly off guard by the rush of loud, abrasive footsteps from the jog that brought me to the room. I may have slightly overdone it…

All four of us shared eager, borderline restless anticipatory looks on our faces, and with how revealing their clothes were, it didn’t take any mental gymnastics for me to piece together that they were here for the same reason I was. With the understanding of our shared mission, I joined the line behind the women. Two of the women were shorter than me, standing at what I would estimate to be 5 ’1 and 5 ’4 respectively, and the last woman towered over even me, easily 6 ‘1 or 6 ’2.

The 5 '1 woman had a cardamom brown complexion, presumably of South Asian Desi background, and a head full of ornately braided black hair, reaching the small of her back. Her petite, rounded facial features worked marvelously with her golden nose piercing. Her scarlet red frock hugged her body tightly, revealing her admittedly small yet shapely breasts, but surprisingly voluminous rear. 

The 5 ’4 woman, on the other hand, had quite pale skin and sharp facial features, with low cheekbones and bright eyes contributing to her charm. I couldn’t put a finger on her ethnic background, but she had a vaguely Central European look, made more pronounced by the teal corset crop-top sitting on her lithe, peony frame. We were matching! The teal went oddly well with her platinum-dyed bob-cut hair, with an aqua streak running through it. I really digged the look.

The last woman, who was 6 ‘2, had both hair and skin similar to mine, although of a slightly darker, more caramel complexion. She exuded a calm confidence, her strong facial features pairing perfectly with the brass-golden portrait-neck top she wore, accentuating a bust and curvaceous build unbefitting of her height. The top of her areola was visible from the low-sitting top, an unapologetically alluring view. How unfair! I wasn’t jealous, but definitely a bit slightly thrown off my game as the comparisons I was so used to making began attacking my mentality once more.

Not today, Mara! I pulled my off-shoulder top down another half inch, pulling my skirt up by the same margin. I wasn’t here to play. Today is your day and no one is going to stop you from getting your FUP permit. It isn’t a competition after all, and I know I’m a catch in my own right. I was quick to reassure myself. There was no room for self-doubt. Not today.

After what seemed like ages, with the women being called up one by one, it was finally my turn to go to the counter, and I could barely contain myself. I had tried to spy in on the conversation between the women in front of me when they went up, but the counter was too far to clearly make out the words, even with me conspicuously leaning in to shorten the distance. Functionally, I was going in blind, but that was okay. I was ready.

The lady at the counter was quick to get me started, seemingly intent on wasting no time, as she uninterestedly got my registration started.

“Name, Age, and reason for today's visit?” her dreary voice rang out. I quickly collected myself.

“Marzanna. Marzanna da Cunha, or Mara for short. 21 years old today actually! I’m here to get my Free Use Provider permit.”

“Could I see proof of identification with your date of birth on it?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” I replied with conviction. I handed the woman my ID card, and with a quick look-over, I was handed back the card.

“Very well then. Confirmed 21 years of age, and intent to receive the FUP permit. Thank you for having everything ready, you’d be surprised how many hooligans come here with no documents…” the woman trailed off, handing me a clipboard with a sheet of paper on it reading Consent for Personal Bodily Inspection On-Site.

“What’s this?” I asked, though not super interested in the answer, as I started signing before the woman was done explaining. Hey, doesn't hurt to ask, right?

“It’s to make sure we have your permission to perform the bodily inspection in the office today. Everyone trying to get their permit has to get one to make sure everything is okay before your trainee free-use provider rights are vested to you. With great power comes great responsibility yada yada yada. Any who, the inspection is a bit… hands-on and… exposing, though I suppose you have no problem with that, right?” the woman asked, expecting my response, as she pensively pushed up her owl glasses.

My mind reeled from the last part of the woman’s statement as the warmth that cascaded me on the bus on the trip here began once again blooming in my lower stomach, my imagination feasting on the occasion.

“Yes, ma’am. That sounds perfect, no worries from my end.” I handed the signed paper and clipboard back to the women.

“Perfect. Follow me to the back, where our inspection rooms are. Someone will meet you in the room shortly, dear.”

I followed the desk woman to the back, and after a brisk 30-second walk, found myself in a room, vaguely reminiscent of a doctor’s operating chamber, but less medical and sterilized. I found my seat on the surprisingly comfortable brown bedding at the back right of the room, kicking my feet in tamed eagerness as they hung over the edge of the bedding, awaiting the inspector’s arrival.

To my luck, it didn’t take long before a man walked in, who I knew from their professional attire, was the inspector. I did a do-over of the man’s outfit, impressed by his poise and the sleek blue button-down sitting on his broad shoulders, down to his tapered waist. He had relatively short blonde hair, a strong jaw, and a well-trimmed beard, standing at about 5 ‘10. 

Huh. Not bad… I thought to myself, with an internal smile, as I kept my face straight. The man looked to be in his mid-30s, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Coincidentally, my eyes glanced downwards, over his gray dress pants, settling briefly on his crotch area, where a subtle yet noticeably thick bulge pushed against the barriers of the dress pants. My breath took a hitch as for a second, I found myself shocked, before forcibly looking back up to meet the man’s gaze before I embarrassed myself.

Oh. Really not bad, I thought once more, this time with a quiet chuckle I couldn’t keep inside me.

“Good morning! I take it, you are…” The man paused and brought up his notepad from the side in front of him, giving it a quick read, “Marzanna?” he asked.

“Sure am! Please, call me Mara.” 

“Nice to meet you Mara. I’m Leon, the senior inspector on site today. Obviously, I’m here to do your inspection. I’ve worked with FUP permit seekers as an inspector for almost 8 years now, so you are in good hands. Have you been briefed on what the inspection will entail, and its steps?” Leon asked, curiously.

Hmm. The women hadn’t really told me much at all. Did she assume I knew everything about this because I came prepared? All she really told me, now that I think about it, was that the inspection was hands-on and exposing. I think I know what that means, but as far as specifics go… ah screw it. Live for once, Mara! Today is your day. The guy in front of you isn’t gonna hurt you, so just go with the flow, I thought, ready to go forth.

“Mhm! She told me everything! No questions or queries from my end, sir.” I said, lying out of my ass with practiced confidence.

“Phenomenal. I see no reason to delay then, let us get started, shall we? Please take off your top. Great choice by the way.” 

Oh my god. I was right. The inspection would be going exactly as I predicted, no hoped, it would. With giddy glee, I pulled off my top, revealing my breasts to Leon, who was sitting in a chair in front of me, about 4 feet away, notepad and pen in hand.

“Ah.” Leon exclaimed, clearly noticing my lack of a bra. “You came ready today, I see, Ms. Cunha?” he said, with a laugh.

“Sure did!”

The feeling of being completely exposed to this man that I had just met wasn’t nearly as jarring as I thought it would be. It… it actually felt really good. The warmth in my lower stomach returned, slowly trailing towards my pussy, as the familiar blooming feeling took over my body.

Leon got up from his seat, the bulge in his pants more prominent, fighting against the zipper constricting it. I swear! My brain wasn’t playing tricks on me. Without even asking for permission, he took his sizable right hand and placed it on my right breast, giving three squeezes in quick succession, the skin of my bust molding to his hands as I released a pent-up moan only I could hear. Leon’s fingers traced over the perimeter of my areola, a slightly darker tan-brown circular patch on my tan boobs, before resting on my, now, stiff nipple, as I bit my lip.

“The dimensions are great. 34D by my estimates. You are well-endowed Mara, people are going to love you. A great size for anyone, let alone for your athletic, toned frame. Perky, sitting well, a barely noticeable sag, striking a balance between aesthetics and freedom of movement during intercourse. Areolas extend outwards about an inch or so from the epicenter of your pronounced nipples, that are…” he spoke, rubbing my right nipple as I involuntarily let out the moan I had been containing, “sensitive. Just as I thought.” 

My mind was going crazy from the stimulation and fulfillment. My dream for so long, finally being fulfilled. You did it Mara, you fucking did it. I took the time to relish in the feeling of the hands exploring my body as the occasion signified my feeling of accomplishment. I took a quick second to think about the three women who were in front of me, in line. They must be getting their inspections done right now too. Fuck, that’s hot. I refocused from my tangent.

At this rate, I’ll have the permit in no time. And it helps that Leon is a complete stud.

“Now, we’ll move on to your vagina.”

Without even being instructed to do so, I step off the bedding with a slight hop, taking off my skirt. Now, with my skirt and top off, I was nearly fully exposed, my stimulated breasts shining under the fluorescent light of the inspection room in all their glory, the only article of clothing remaining on me being the yellow thong I had picked out this morning, a visible wet, damp line present on it where the fabric met my pussy orifice.

“Let’s see what you’re working with, then, Mara.”

Leon, in his authority, did the job of revealing my pussy for me, as he reached around to my backside, his right hand resting on the top of my right ass-cheek, before dragging the thong off, across my skin, exposing my admittedly wet, slightly aching vagina. Instructed to get back on the bedding, I did so, spreading my thighs to give Leon as good of a look as possible, his uni-focused gaze giving my stomach butterflies.

“A pretty, pale brown, pinkish exterior. Symmetrical lips and a tight, line-like orifice. Shapely clitoris, sitting atop a well-proportioned labia. An appetizing sight for sure.”

Leon then stuck two fingers into my pussy. With how wet I was, he met little resistance, before he began to painstakingly slowly thrust his two fingers back and forth, in a tantalizing rhythm.

“Wet. Very wet. With a healthy grip and tightness.” Leon said, flashing me a smile. “You’re the real deal, Mara. The FUP Administration will be overjoyed that you walked through our doors today.” Leon told me, as he did not let up the motion of his fingers, even adding a third.

By this point, his words sounded further and further away from me, as I lost myself in the feeling of his tender fingers pleasuring my pussy. Inspection or not, it felt fucking amazing. I had worked up a light sweat from the occasion, and my breathing was slightly hitched, as I readjusted my seat on the bedding to lay down slightly, Leon’s intentionally curved fingers now just rubbing against my G-Spot. Fuck. This feels good. Way too good.

“Tha- thanks, Leon. Real- really I me-mean it”, I say through labored, muffled breaths, interspaced with moans I can no longer hold back.

With those words, the inspection was over. Damn it! I was so close to cumming! That was… incredible. Fuck. It’s okay Mara get a hold of yourself. When that permit is mine, I’ll have NO trouble being sexually satisfied.

“You did well today Mara. Be proud of yourself and give yourself a pat on the back. Needless to say, the FUP permit is yours. Just go back to the front office with this…” Leon handed me the notepad he was holding, now filled with the “results” from the inspection, “... back to the front desk, to the woman who started your registration.”

“Thank you Leon, sincerely.” I said, getting redressed the fastest I ever have, the feeling of the silvery permit and accompanying issued sleek “Satisfaction tracker plaque” almost tangible in my hands. Before leaving the room, I brush against Leon, not so mistakenly grabbing his now prominent bulge, the meaty heft taking shape in my palm, in the process before giving him a wink and exiting the room. If he could tease me, I could definitely tease him in return.

As I made my way to the counter I couldn’t help but smile. 

The warmth in my body had yet to be expelled. It wouldn’t leave. It wouldn’t subside. Somebody would take care of it.

The image of the permit took center stage in my mind’s eye as I walked.

Somebody will take care of it very very soon.