The week following Ben’s first visit to Mrs. Margaret Harper’s house passed in a haze of restless sexual obsession. The memory of her yellow glove handjob, the slick latex curling around his cock with expert precision, haunted his dreams, mingling with the intense sensation of that warm, soapy enema flooding his bowels, the gurgling pressure stretching him, and the sight of her cupboard, its shelves brimming with enema equipment colourful rubber bags, coiled tubes, and the mysterious locked section that teased his curiosity with its hidden secrets.

Those images blended with flashes of her navy blue dress, the shimmer of her sheer white pantyhose, and the vivid recollection of her pink maternity nurse uniform from his teenage years kept him sexual aroused and agitated counting the days till he needed to mow her lawn again. He hoped to get another glimpse of her curvy sexy body and the flash of her pantyhose covered legs when he did.

He mowed her lawn two days later as promised, the hum of the mower grounding him, the glimpse of her on the porch, handing him a lemonade with a knowing smile, sent his pulse racing. Ben made little effort to change his health habits, sticking to his usual diet of pizza, junk food,beer, and partying with no exercise beyond the lawn mowing work.

Before long, his bowels were again backed up, the familiar bloating pain returning, a heavy pressure that made him wince with every step. The thought of Ex-Lax repelled him; instead, he found himself almost happy about needing to ask for Mrs. Harper’s help again. The next day he found himself drawn back to her doorstep, his cheeks flushing with a mix of arousal and slight embarrassment. As he knocked quietly and waited trying to look less excited that he needed to ask for her help again.

Mrs. Harper answered the door in a burgundy wrap dress, its silky fabric clinging to her plump hips and 36DD breasts, the neckline dipping slightly to reveal a hint of cleavage. Her auburn hair was pinned loosely, and her sheer white pantyhose gleamed faintly, paired with those practical white clogs that clicked softly on the hardwood floor.

“Benjamin,” she said, her hazel eyes scanning him with that nurse’s precision, her plump cheeks dimpling with a warm smile. “Back so soon? Are we backup up again my dear boy?”

Ben shifted, his feet and stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, his voice low with embarrassment. “Yeah, Mrs. Harper. It’s… the same problem. I didn’t want to take Ex-Lax, so I thought maybe…” He trailed off, his face turning bright red, the memory of the enema’s warm rush, her latex gloved handjob, and the cupboard’s ominous contents making his penis twitch.

Her smile deepened, a glint of pleasure sparkling in her eyes. “You made the right choice, my sweet boy. Come in, and we’ll take care of you properly.”

She turned, her dress swaying over her ass, the pantyhose glinting as she led him through the lavender-scented living room to the familiar bathroom, its white subway tiles gleaming under light, the black-and-white checkerboard floor.

The clawfoot bathtub stood, the toilet with its black seat gleamed, and the red rubber enema bag still hung in the glass walled shower, its coiled hose and black nozzle swaying faintly. The chrome IV pole in the corner caught the light, its hooks empty but ominous, a silent promise of what was about to come.

“Alright, Benjamin,” she said, her tone shifting to clinical efficiency as she opened the tall cupboards white painted doors. Ben’s breath caught as he glimpsed its contents again: a red rubber apron and white surgical smock hung beside vintage pink maternity ward nurse’s dresses.

Shelves were laden with an array of medical supplies colorful rubber enema bags in various sizes, an assortment of nozzles from slender to thick, vintage medical tools gleaming faintly, and boxes labeled with terms like “Castile Soap” and “Sterile Lubricant.” Stacks of latex and nitrile gloves and antiseptic wipes promised clinical precision, but Ben’s eyes lingered on the locked section at the cupboard’s base, its brass padlock glinting, its contents a tantalizing mystery that sparked his curiosity. What secrets did even Mrs. Harper keep hidden in there he wondered?

The sight sent a shiver through him, his arousal mingling with nervous anticipation.

Mrs. Harper reached inside the cupboard selecting a thick, flared 36fr colon tube, its coiled length stretching nearly four feet, the glossy black surface catching the light.

She held up, the massive tube as it dangling ominously, and Ben’s eyes widened, his breath catching at its intimidating length, the flared tip gleaming with promise. “That…that looks a little long….to fit inside me,” he whispered, his voice trembling with uncertainty, his cheeks flushing as he stared at the tube’s daunting size.

Mrs. Harper’s hazel eyes softened, but her smile carried a nurses reassurance. “It will fit, my darling,” she said, her voice calm and encouraging. “This is a colon tube, Ben, it’s different from the smaller enema nozzle we used before. This on is designed to reach deep into your colon, curving gently to follow your body’s natural paths. The flared tip and smooth surface make it safe, and it’ll clean you out much more thoroughly, ensuring we address that stubborn blockage issue of yours.”

“Trust your nurse, my sweet boy.” She set the tube aside and pulled out a box of yellow latex surgical gloves, snapping them onto each hand with a sharp pop that echoed off the tiles, the bright latex stretching over her fingers. “As before, Ben let’s get started,” she said, her voice brisk but with a teasing happy lilt. “Tell me about your symptoms, dear. How long has it been since you’ve gone last?”

Ben fidgeted by the sink, his cheeks flushed. “Uhhhh, about four days. It’s not as bad as last time, but I feel… heavy and bloated with sharp pains when I move too much.”

She nodded, her gloved hands resting on her hips, accentuating her curves, her burgundy dress rustling softly. “Four days is too long, Benjamin. This is why we are going to do something more thorough this time to prevent this from recurring. A deeper cleansing.” Her tone was matter of fact, but the word “deeper” sent a jolt through him, his mind flashing to the cupboard’s array of tools and the locked part with its unknown secrets.

“Undress and lie on the towels, my sweet boy, like before, Ben,” she instructed, pulling out several thick, white towels and laying them on the floor with brisk precision, their plush fabric crinkling faintly.

A strange nervous anticipation gripped Ben, the memory of his first treatment’s exposure and her commanding touch making his stomach flutter, and his pulse quicken.

His hands trembled as he unbuttoned his jeans, letting them and his boxers slide to his ankles, his skin prickling as he pulled his T-shirt off and shivered with exposure under the harsh light.

He lowered himself onto the towels, positioned near the clawfoot bathtub, the cool ceramic of its base brushing his shoulder as he settled on his back. The plush towels cushioned his spine, but the hard tile floor beneath felt cool and almost clinical.

His legs were spread wide, knees bent slightly, hips tilted upward to expose his anus fully, his thighs parted to reveal the sensitive skin of his inner legs, the cool bathroom air teasing his exposed flesh.

His erection stirred, already jutting upward, his arousal all too clear. The mirror across from the sink reflected his vulnerable position, his flushed cheeks and tense body framed by the spread of his legs, the sight amplifying his nervous anticipation, his breath shallow as he awaited Mrs. Harper’s tender touch.

She moved to the sink, her clogs clicking, and filled the sink with warm water, testing it with her gloved finger, the yellow latex glistening with droplets. “About 103 degrees, perfect for you, Ben,” she murmured, her voice soothing as she stirred in Castile soap until the water turned milky, its herbal scent mingling with the lavender in the air.

“This will help cleanse you thoroughly, my dear,” she added, filling a 2-liter clear rubber enema bag, its surface swelling as the liquid gurgled inside. She hung it on the IV pole at 30 inches for a stronger flow, attaching the 36fr colon tube with a quick twist, its long, coiled length swaying ominously.

“This will need to be a bit more intense, than last time my darling,” she said, her voice calm as she squeezed a generous dollop of K-Y jelly onto her gloved fingers, the yellow latex shimmering as she spread it with a squelching sound.

“We’re going deeper to clear you out thoroughly. Trust me, Benjamin.” She knelt beside him, her dress brushing his thigh, the shimmer of her pantyhose catching his eye, her 36DD breasts swaying slightly under the burgundy fabric. “Breathe deeply, my dear, nice and slow,” she cooed, her gloved finger probing his anus with slow, deliberate care, the slick latex gliding past his tight ring, stretching him gently.

She rotated her finger, then added a second, the pressure making Ben gasp, his hips twitching on the towels. “I’m going to try a manual massage to loosen you and help stretch your anal sphincter,” she said, her tone clinical yet tender, her hazel eyes warm. “You’re again so impacted, my poor boy. This will help, just relax for me.”

She tried to add a third finger, her gloved hand pressing gently but firmly, the stretch intensifying. Ben squirmed, a sharp pain shooting through him, and he gasped, “It hurts, Mrs. Harper!” His voice was strained, his body tensing on the towels, his knees drawing up slightly.

She paused, her two gloved fingers still inside, and murmured under her breath, “Hmmm, I was afraid of that…” Her voice was low, almost inaudible, followed by other indistinct phrases “…too tight… needs more work…” that Ben couldn’t fully catch, his ears ringing with discomfort and embarrassment.

“I can tell you have other problems as well,” she added, her tone clinical but concerned. “Your sphincter is very tight, and I’ll bet you sometimes have some pain when you pass a stool.”

She was right about the pain. Sometimes, when Ben had a bowel movement, it was hard and stretched him too much, causing a sharp, burning discomfort. It even bled a little sometimes, leaving faint streaks of red on the toilet paper. His cheeks flushed deeper as he admitted all this to her, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… sometimes it hurts. And, uh, there’s a little blood sometimes after I poop.”

Mrs. Harper nodded knowingly, her hazel eyes softening with understanding, though a faint smile played on her lips, as if she’d anticipated this confession.

“We’ll address that too, my sweet boy,” she said, her voice reassuring. She withdrew her fingers slowly, the yellow latex smeared faintly, and tossed the soiled glove into the chrome trash bin, snapping on a fresh one with a sharp pop. “We’ll skip the deeper massage for now, Benjamin,” she said, her tone clinical yet tender. “The enema will do the job, but we’ll need to be thorough, my sweet.”

She coated the colon tube with a thick layer of K-Y, its flared tip and long, glossy surface shining under the bathroom light, and positioned it at his anus, the cool tip pressing gently against his sensitive skin.

“Here comes the tube, as we did before, Ben,” she said, her voice a soft lullaby. “Just relax and let it glide inside you, darling.” She eased it in slowly, the slick latex of her gloves guiding the tube with delicate precision, the flared tip slipping past his tight ring with a faint pop that made Ben gasp, his hips twitching slightly on the towels.

She fed the tube deeper, inch by inch, her gloved fingers working with patient care, twisting it gently to navigate his inner curves, the long, coiled length disappearing gradually.

Ben’s breath hitched as she pushed further, the tube’s thickness stretching him, the sensation both intrusive and strangely arousing. She paused at six inches, then tried for more, feeding another inch, then another, her gloved hands steady, the tube’s glossy surface gleaming as it slid deeper inside him.

At around ten inches, she met resistance, the tube stopping abruptly. She twisted it gently, coaxing a little more perhaps another half-inch but it wouldn’t budge further.

“Hmmm, no good, can’t get past that point…” she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible, followed by other indistinct words“…blockage…needs time…” that Ben couldn’t fully catch, his mind clouded with the intense sensation.

She sighed softly, securing the tube at ten inches, her gloved fingers steadying it. “We’ll work with this for now, my sweet,” she said, her tone reassuring, though her hazel eyes flickered with a hint of frustration.

“Here comes the solution, following our routine, Ben,” she said, clicking the clamp open. “Feel it flow in, nice and steady, darling.” Warm, soapy water surged through the tube, filling his colon with a steady, forceful flow, the 2 liters stretching his bowels, the gurgling sound echoing off the tiles.

As Ben’s belly began to swell, Mrs. Harper’s expression shifted, her plump cheeks glowing with a radiant happiness, her hazel eyes sparkling with a mix of maternal pride and deeper, more complex emotions satisfaction at his submission, a quiet thrill of control, and a subtle undercurrent of arousal that tightened her lips into a knowing smile.

Her gaze lingered on his distending abdomen, the skin growing tauter with each passing moment, and her gloved fingers traced its curve with a tenderness that belied the intensity of her emotions, her breath catching slightly as his belly rounded further, a visible testament to her dominance.

Cramps gripped Ben, sharper than before, and he groaned, his knees drawing up, his fingers digging into the towels.

“Shh, you’re alright, Benjamin,” she soothed, sitting beside him, her plump hips settling on the tiles, her dress riding up slightly to reveal more of her pantyhose covered legs, the sheer fabric shimmering.

Her gloved hand massaged his distended belly, her yellow latex fingers kneading with firm, rhythmic strokes, easing the cramps as the solution filled him, his abdomen swelling visibly, the skin taut under her touch.

“Breathe with me, sweet boy, nice deep breaths,” she murmured, her fingers splaying wide, tracing the rounded swell, the latex squeaking softly, her expression still radiant but now tinged with a possessive satisfaction as his belly grew larger, her hazel eyes glinting with unspoken delight.

“You’re doing so well, my dear, just let the water work.” Her other gloved hand grazed his erection, a deliberate touch, the slick latex sending a jolt through him, amplifying his arousal amidst the discomfort.

The bag drained steadily, the clear rubber sagging on the IV pole, and Ben’s bowels felt impossibly full, the pressure urging him to expel. “Hold it, my brave boy,” she ordered, her gloved hand pressing his thigh, the yellow latex warm and steady.

“Let it do its job, darling, you’re almost there.” She massaged his belly with increasing intensity, her fingers coaxing the solution deeper, her touch both clinical and intimate, the memory of her attempted three-finger massage, his admission of pain, and the long colon tube lingering in his body, his erection pulsing with each stroke of her glove.

When the bag was empty, she clicked the clamp shut and eased the colon tube out slowly, her gloved fingers guiding it with care, the long, glossy length emerging inch by inch, the process almost as deliberate as its insertion.

Her gloved finger briefly re-entered him to hold the solution in place, the slick latex digit probing gently. “Good boy, you took it so well,” she whispered, as she helped him to the toilet, her one gloved hand steadying his trembling frame as her other was buried in his ass.

Ben collapsed onto the black seat, his knees bent, hands gripping the edge, and released a torrent of soapy water and waste, the loud spurts echoing off the tiles, the relief overwhelming, his body shuddering with each wave.

His erection remained, throbbing insistently, a stark contrast to his emptied bowels.

Mrs. Harper rinsed the colon tube at the sink, her gloved hands moving with brisk efficiency, the yellow latex gleaming with suds. “Much better, isn’t it, dear? All cleaned out now,” she said, hanging the bag and colon tube to dry in the shower.

She turned, her hazel eyes flicking to his throbbing erection, a faint knowing smile playing on her lips, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur. “Still so excited, I see my sweet. Let’s take care of that, like our last session, Ben.”

Ben’s throat went dry, his heart racing and his face turning red. “Mrs. Harper, I…ahhh….” he stammered, but her seductive presence silenced him.

She peeled off her latex gloves, tossing them into the bin, and snapped on a fresh pair, the sharp latex pop echoing, the yellow latex shimmering as she squeezed a thick dollop of K-Y onto her fingers, spreading it with a slow, deliberate squelching sound, her movements teasingly sensual.

“Lie back on the towels, darling, let me help make you feel good,” she purred, her voice warm and commanding, her hazel eyes gleaming with intent.

He obeyed, his body trembling with anticipation, as he reclining on the plush towels near the bathtub, his back sinking into the fabric, legs spread wide, knees bent, as he automatically titled his hips to expose his erection, which jutted upward under the light.

Mrs. Harper knelt beside him, her burgundy dress rustling as she quietly tugged the hem of her dress higher, revealing more of her pantyhose covered legs and the curve of her upper thick thigh, the sheer fabric shimmering, a tantalizing display that made Ben’s breath hitch.

Her 36DD breasts swayed under the fabric, as she leaned forward. Her gloved hand slowly closed around his shaft, the slick yellow latex enveloping his member, her grip firm yet teasing, the texture sending an aroused shiver through him.

“Hmm, I can tell you’ve been looking forward to this part of the session, Benjamin,” she cooed, her voice a husky whisper, her hazel eyes twinkling with seductive amusement.

Ben opened his mouth to speak, his cheeks flushing, but she shushed him gently, her other gloved hand brushing his lips. “Shh, darling, I understand. Your nurse will take care of you,” she murmured, her smile wickedly maternal.

She stroked him with slow, languid movements, her fingers gliding smoothly, the K-Y creating a wet, squelching sound that filled the bathroom. Her thumb circled the tip, pressing the sensitive ridge with deliberate pressure, while her other gloved hand cupped his balls, massaging with a sensual rhythm, her fingers kneading gently, the dual sensation driving him wild as he moaned in pleasure.

“Relax, my naughty boy, let it all out for me,” she whispered, her voice a sultry purr, her auburn hair glinting, her plump cheeks dimpling with a knowing smile. “You’re doing so well, Ben, just give in.”

She leaned closer, her pantyhose covered thigh brushing his leg, the sheer fabric cool against his skin, her dress hiked up to reveal the soft curve of her upper thigh, a deliberate tease that heightened his arousal.

Her strokes quickened, her gloved fingers curling with expert precision, the yellow latex glistening with K-Y, the rhythm relentless and provocative.

Ben moaned louder, his hips bucking, the memory of the enema’s pressure, the first handjob’s creamy release pooling in her glove, the long colon tube’s stretch, his admission of painful bowel movements, and the cupboard’s locked section flashing through his mind.

Than with a shuddering gasp, he climaxed, suddenly hot waves erupting into her gloved hand, the creamy fluid pooling in the glossy latex glove, some dribbling down her fingers, the sight vivid against the yellow glove.

She stroked him through the aftershocks, milking every drop with a slow, sensual glide, her gloved fingers lingering on his sensitive skin, she pulled off the one latex glove tossing it in the bin, and again wiped him with a baby wipes, her movements brisk yet laced with a teasing edge, the scent of baby powder mingling with the lavender air.

“There we go, all clean and taken care of,” she said, tossing the wipes into the bin. “Get dressed, my dear and I will see you in the living room.”

She stood, her dress swishing as she adjusted it, her clogs clicking as she snapped off the other latex glove, tossing it into the bin with a soft thud.

Ben dressed shakily, the mirror reflecting his flushed cheeks, his mind reeling from the intensity of her touch, the enema, the sultry handjob, the glimpse of her pantyhosed thigh. It all sent after orgasm shivers thought him as he finished dressing and walked out of the bathroom still feeling shacky.

In the living room, Mrs. Harper gestured for him to sit on the plush sofa, her hazel eyes twinkling with control as she settled across from him, her burgundy dress hugging her curves, her pantyhose shimmering faintly.

“You did wonderfully, Benjamin,” she said, her tone warm but firm. “But your bowel issue is more persistent and concerning than I’d hoped, especially with that tight sphincter and painful stool release. I can fix it, dear, but you’ll need to come for regular enema sessions twice a day morning and evening, and it will require some other treatments as well.”

At these words, she rose smoothly from her seat, her movements deliberate, and stepped toward Ben, reaching down to pull him to his feet with a gentle but firm grip. Ben gasped, his breath catching as she drew him close, her body inches from his, the warmth of her presence enveloping him.

She placed her hands on either side of his face, her fingers still carrying the faint scent of latex mingled with her floral perfume, a heady mix that made his head spin.

Her hazel eyes locked onto his, deep and commanding, a flicker of intensity beneath her calm exterior. “Ben,” she said, her voice low and serious, “I can help fix your issue, but it means you need to come for sessions each day, and you need to obey me completely with whatever I say. I’m your nurse, and I know what’s best for you. Do you understand? Swear you will obey me and do what I say.”

Ben’s heart pounded, overwhelmed by the warmth of her hands holding his face, the intoxicating scent of latex and perfume, and the weight of her gaze. His emotions swirled with excitement, desire, and a strange, submissive streak of trust and he mumbled, his voice barely audible, “I promise, Mrs. Harper.”

She smiled, a knowing curve of her lips carrying a hint of lustful intent, and tilted her head slightly. “You mean Nurse Harper, don’t you, Benjamin?” she corrected, her tone teasing but firm, her thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks.

Ben blushed, his cheeks burning as he lowered his eyes, his voice a shy mumble. “Yes…I promise to obey you, Nurse Harper.”

Her smile widened, a mix of warmth and pleasure sparkling in her eyes, as she stroked his face gently, her fingers lingering on his skin. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, her hand drifted downward, teasingly brushing his crotch, the brief contact sending a jolt through him.

“Hmmm that is my good boy,” she purred, her voice sultry. “Now, I will see you tomorrow morning at 9am sharp. You better not be late, for your enema session understood, Benjamin?”

Ben nodded quickly, his cheeks flaming as he tried to shift his stance to hide the erection starting to strain his jeans, the fabric tightening uncomfortably.

Mrs. Harper laughed happily, a bright, musical sound that carried a hint of excited delight, her hazel eyes sparkling with amusement and control.

“Such a good boy,” she said again, her smile radiant yet lustful, but with an excited darker emotion swirling deeper as she pulled Benjamin deep under her control. “Don’t keep your nurse waiting tomorrow morning, my darling.”

Ben nodded again, his throat tight, unable to meet her gaze as he mumbled, “I won’t, Nurse Harper.” He promised to return the next morning and offered to tidy the back yard that afternoon, the scent of nature and yard work grounding him, but his thoughts lingered on her latex gloved hands, the slick latex, the enema’s pressure, the handjob’s release, the glimpse of her pantyhosed thigh, and the cupboard’s locked section, its secrets tugging at his curiosity.

Her touch on his face, the scent of her perfume, and her demand for obedience echoed in his mind, a potent mix of fear and sexual craving. As he walked home after, his steps light on the pavement, he couldn’t shake the image of her yellow latex gloved fingers, glistening with his cum, her sultry dominance searing into his mind, a forbidden thrill pulsing through him to obey as he wanted to experience more of that pleasure.

Mrs. Harper watched from her porch, a faint, secret smile curling her lips, her hazel eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction. “Oh, Benjamin, you’re going to be such a delightful project,” she murmured under her breath, her voice a sultry whisper, laced with hints of her plans for deeper control and her own pleasure in his submission.

She turned back into her house, the door closing softly behind her, as Ben walked home with a confusing and swirling mix of emotions and the promise of more and deeper enema visits to come. Laced with his craving for more sexual releases under Mrs. Harper….no Nurse Harper’s sexy latex gloved hands.

End: Chapter 2