Rio sat on the edge of the clinical exam table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile silence of the room. She felt impossibly small in the oversized paper gown. Her long, dark brown hair—the color of rich mahogany—cascaded down her back, nearly reaching the seat of the table. She stared at the floor with her emerald-green eyes, her heart-shaped, blossom-pink lips trembling slightly.

The "issue" was as uncomfortable as it was embarrassing. She hadn’t been able to go for days, and the pressure in her lower abdomen was a constant, heavy reminder. But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the psychological dread.

She knew this clinic. Her family owned this clinic.

The door swung open, and Rio’s breath hitched. It wasn't one doctor. It was four.

Gus, the eldest with his broad shoulders and steady gaze; James, the intellectual one with the wire-rimmed glasses; Vale, the sensitive soul with the softest eyes; and Porter, the youngest of the four but no less imposing. All of them wore pristine white lab coats. All of them looked at Rio with a mixture of professional focus and that suffocating, "mother hen" devotion she knew all too well.

"Oh, no," Rio whispered, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "No, no, no. Not all of you."

"Now, now, Little Bird," Gus said, his voice a deep, soothing rumble as he stepped forward to lead the pack. He reached out, his large, warm hand gently stroking her dark hair. "We heard you were having some trouble. You should have come to us sooner."

"It’s just a little backup, Rio," James added, his tone clinical but dripping with a doting sweetness. He began snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "But we need to be very thorough. We can’t have our baby girl in pain, can we?"

"You're all going to be so... fussy," Rio groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

"We aren't being fussy, sweetheart," Vale cooed, stepping to the side of the table and rubbing her shoulder. "We’re being protective. Your health is our priority."

Porter moved to the end of the table, his expression firm but kind. "You know the drill, Rio. We need to check the impaction. Get into position for us. All fours, please."

Rio felt a wave of mortification wash over her. She knew exactly what they thought of her. To them, she wasn't a twenty-year-old woman; she was their "Little Bird" with the "squeaky clean" skin. She knew they still viewed her plump, rosy bottom as something babyish and delicate—something that needed constant, hovering supervision.

With agonizing slowness, Rio moved. She shifted onto her hands and knees, the paper gown fluttering open to reveal her dainty, slim figure and the soft, smooth curves of her hips. As she settled into the "all fours" position, she felt the cool air of the clinic hit her skin. She felt utterly exposed, her heart thumping against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Behind her, she heard the synchronized snap of four more gloves.

"Look at how flushed she is," Porter murmured, his voice laced with pity. "Poor thing must be so uncomfortable. Her bottom is so tight and rosy."

"It’s okay, Rio," Gus whispered, leaning over her head so she could see his kind face. "We’re going to take care of everything. We’re going to be so gentle with you, but we have to be deep. We have to make sure you're cleared out."

Rio squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating the first touch. She knew her brothers. This wasn't just a medical check-up; it was going to be a long, doting, and incredibly detailed "treatment" that would leave her feeling like the most pampered, and most humiliated, girl in the world.

The air in the exam room was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the overwhelming, protective energy of the four men surrounding the table. Rio felt like a porcelain doll being prepared for a restoration, her heart hammering against the table as she held the all-fours position.

"There we go, Little Bird," James murmured, his voice a warm, scholarly purr. He stood directly behind her, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose as he peered over his clipboard. "Gus, look at the tension in her lower back. She’s been holding this in far too long. Our poor, dainty sister."

"I see it, James," Gus replied, stepping to Rio’s side to smooth her dark hair away from her damp neck. "She’s always been so modest, even when she was a toddler. But you don't have to be shy with your big brothers, Rio. We know every inch of you."

Gus reached down and firmly but gently spread the soft, plump cheeks of her rosy bottom. Rio let out a muffled whimper of protest, burying her face in her arms. The skin was indeed squeaky-soft and flawlessly smooth, looking almost translucent under the harsh LED medical lights.

"Oh, Rio," Vale cooed from her other side, his voice dripping with mother-hen concern. He took a large bottle of medical-grade lubricant and warmed it between his gloved palms. "It’s so rosy and sensitive. You’ve been straining, haven't you? Porter, get the light closer. I want to make sure there’s no irritation on her skin. It’s so delicate, like a peach."

Porter moved the heavy surgical lamp, the beam focusing directly on Rio’s most private, vulnerable area. "You’re right, Vale. It’s as soft as a nursery. Don't worry, honey, we're going to fix the 'tummy ache' right now."

James applied a generous amount of the warm, clear gel. The sound was wet and clinical, causing Rio to shudder. "I’m going to start the internal palpation now, Rio. It’s going to feel very full because you're so tiny and petite. Just breathe for James."

With a slow, inexorable pressure, James pushed a gloved finger deep into her rectum. Rio’s back arched, her "blossom pink" lips parting in a sharp gasp.

"Shh, shh," Gus whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "I know it feels invasive, Little Bird. But James has to go deep to find the blockage. You're so small, we have to be extra careful not to hurt your insides."

"She's so tight," James noted, his finger moving in a slow, circular motion, exploring the internal walls with clinical precision while the other three watched with hovering intensity. "The impaction is quite high. I think we need a multi-stage manual clearance. Gus, you take over the left side; I’ll stay centered. We need to break this up gently."

"Wait—no—" Rio gasped, her face burning with a heat that felt like it would melt the paper table-cover. "Both of you? At once?"

"It’s for your own good, sweetheart," Vale said, reaching under her to gently support her stomach with his hand, feeling the distention. "We’re just being thorough. We can't have our baby sister walking around with a heavy tummy. Look at how her bottom is reacting, Porter. It’s so reactive, so innocent."

Gus added more lubricant, the slick friction sounding loud in the quiet room. He joined James, and the sensation of two of her brothers "working" inside her was a dizzying mix of intense fullness and profound humiliation. They spoke to her—and about her—as if she were still five years old, commenting on the "squeaky" texture of her skin and how "good" she was being for her "big doctors."

"Almost there, Rio," Porter encouraged, petting her calf. "We’re going to do a deep irrigation next once the boys are finished. We’re going to make you feel all clean and empty again, just like a brand new baby."

The manual phase of the examination was a cacophony of clinical sounds that stripped Rio of the last of her dignity. There was the rhythmic, viscous squelch-squelch of the heavy lubricant being worked deep into her, the sharp snap of fresh latex as Vale and Porter prepared to assist, and the low, constant "mother hen" murmuring of her brothers.

"There's the blockage," James muttered, the sound of his gloved fingers moving internally creating a wet, sliding friction that made Rio’s toes curl into the table paper. "It's very stubborn, Gus. Our Little Bird has been far too brave for far too long."

"Deep breaths, Rio," Gus encouraged, his voice a low rumble near her ear. The sound of her own frantic, hitching gasps filled the small space. She felt the heavy, invasive pressure of their combined efforts—a feeling of being completely filled and handled—until finally, with a series of wet, heavy sounds, the worst of the impaction was cleared.

But they weren't done.

"She's still so bloated," Vale noted, his hand pressing firmly against her soft tummy, the sound of the skin-on-skin contact a dull thud. "The irrigation is the only way to be sure she's perfectly clean. Porter, bring the warm saline."

The irrigation setup made a terrifying hiss of air as the tube was primed. Rio’s breaking point finally arrived. A sob broke from her heart-shaped, blossom-pink lips, and hot tears began to splash onto the exam table.

"Please," she sobbed, her dainty frame shaking. "It’s too much. You’re treating me like a... like a toddler! I'm so embarrassed!"

"Oh, sweetheart, no," Vale cooed, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears. He moved to the front of the table, cradling her face in his gloved hands, heedless of the clinical setting. "We're not trying to hurt your feelings. We just love your little rosy bottom so much, and it's so sensitive. We have to be this fussy."

"We’re almost finished, baby girl," Porter promised. The sound of the irrigation was a steady, rhythmic drip-clack of the gravity bag. He carefully introduced the nozzle, the slick, sliding sound of the plastic against her "squeaky" skin making Rio let out a high, thin wail of shame.

As the warm saline began to flow, the sensation was overwhelming. Rio felt an internal rushing, a feeling of being inflated and thoroughly "rinsed" from the inside out. Her brothers worked in a coordinated dance of doting protection: Gus held her hips steady, his large thumbs tracing the rosy curves of her bottom; James monitored the flow with professional intensity; Vale whispered sweet, "babying" nonsense into her ear; and Porter kept the area meticulously clean, his movements swift and practiced.

The sound of the fluid—a soft, internal gurgle followed by the splashing into the collection basin—was the final straw for Rio’s pride. She felt completely emptied, not just physically, but emotionally. Her brothers watched the process with a fiercely protective gaze, commenting on the "clarity" of the return and how "wonderful" her skin looked now that the strain was leaving her body.

"Look at that," James whispered with a proud, doting smile. "Our Rio is almost as good as new. The redness is already fading from her cheeks."

"One more liter, just to be certain," Gus decided, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We want her squeaky clean, inside and out."

By the time the last of the saline had been drained and the tubes removed with a final, wet slith, Rio was a limp, sobbing mess of dark hair and flushed skin. Her brothers immediately swarmed her, stripping off their soiled gloves and wrapping her shivering, dainty body in a thick, heated blanket.

"There, there," Gus murmured, lifting her effortlessly into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. "The mean old doctors are finished with you now. Let’s get you to the recovery suite. I think someone deserves a big long nap, don't you?"

The transition from the exam table to the private bathroom was not the relief Rio had prayed for. The irrigation had left her feeling overfull and heavy, her dainty figure trembling under the weight of the saline still held deep within her.

"I... I have to go," Rio gasped, her face a fiery crimson as she clutched the heated blanket around her waist.

"Of course, Little Bird," Vale said, his voice a soothing, mother-hen coo. He tucked a stray strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. "But you're too shaky to go alone. We’re going to help you."

Humiliation spiked as all four brothers escorted her into the spacious, marble-tiled clinical bathroom. Instead of privacy, Gus and James stood guard by the door while Vale and Porter guided her toward the raised commode.

"Alright, Rio, let it all out," Porter encouraged, his tone as casual as if he were cheering on a toddler.

Rio sat, her breath coming in short, jagged hitches. The sound of the fluid exiting her was loud and splashing in the silent room—a wet, rhythmic rush that made her want to sink into the floor. But suddenly, the flow stopped. A sharp, localized pressure returned, and Rio let out a pained, frustrated whimper.

"It’s stuck," she sobbed, her heart-shaped lips trembling. "Something is still... I can't..."

Vale’s protective instincts flared instantly. "Oh, honey, don't strain. You'll hurt your delicate skin." He looked at his brothers. "There’s a hard, secondary impaction. The irrigation loosened it, but it’s too thick for her to pass on her own."

"Please, no," Rio pleaded, but Vale was already snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, the thwack of the latex echoing off the tiles.

"We need a better angle, Vale," James noted professionally. "Rio, honey, come off the seat. We need you to do the 'lion's stretch' over the edge of the marble counter."

Mortified, Rio was guided to stand and then bend deeply over the cold marble counter. It was an even more degrading position; her chest was pressed against the stone, her long dark hair fanning out across the counter, while her curvy, rosy bottom was thrust high into the air, perfectly framed by her doting brothers.

"Spread your feet a bit wider for me, Little Bird," Vale murmured, his touch gentle as he applied a thick, viscous layer of lube to his hand. The squish of the gel was the only sound in the room until he pressed his fingers against her. "This is going to be a bit of a stretch, Rio. Just focus on Vale’s voice."

As Vale began to dig deeply, his fingers working with a firm, invasive pressure to break apart the hard stool, the bathroom door swung open.

A handsome, young male nurse—new to the clinic, with sharp blue eyes and a shocked expression—froze in the doorway with a tray of supplies. He stared, wide-eyed, at the scene: the exotically beautiful girl bent double, her lush, plump bottom exposed and flushed bright red under the vanity lights, while a doctor in a lab coat worked his hand deep inside her.

"I... I’m so sorry," the nurse stammered, his gaze lingering on Rio’s perfect, trembling form before he could look away.

Rio let out a muffled scream of pure agony and shame, burying her face in her arms. She could hear the wet, sliding sounds of Vale’s hand moving inside her, the clinical thud of the hard stool finally being extracted into a basin Porter held ready.

"Don't just stand there, son," Gus barked at the nurse, his protective "big brother" mode turning fierce. "Bring those warm towels over here! Can't you see our sister is in distress?"

The nurse hurried forward, his face flushed as he caught a vivid, close-up view of the "squeaky" soft skin of Rio’s hips and the intense, deep work Vale was performing. Rio felt the heat of the nurse's presence, adding a layer of public exposure to her private nightmare.

"There," Vale whispered, a final schlick sound signaling the removal of the blockage. "It’s out. See, Rio? You’re all empty now. Such a brave girl for her brothers."

He continued to "examine" the area for another minute, his thumb tracing the rosy, irritated skin of her bottom with a fussy, lingering touch that the nurse couldn't help but watch.

"Everything looks clear," Vale pronounced, finally withdrawing. "Porter, help me get her cleaned up. She’s had quite the morning."

The manual extraction had left Rio’s "squeaky" skin a deep, angry rose. Her brothers hovered over her like mother hens around a wounded chick, their protective instincts dialed up to a suffocating level. The handsome nurse remained by the door, wide-eyed and clutching the tray of warm towels, unable to look away from the vulnerability of the beautiful girl bent over the counter.

"Oh, look at her," Vale crooned, his voice dripping with doting sympathy as he traced the reddened skin of her hips. "The procedure was so hard on her delicate bottom. It’s so flushed and irritated."

"She needs a barrier," Gus decided, his tone authoritative. "James, get the clinical-strength zinc paste. The thickest one we have."

Rio’s eyes went wide as James produced a large, heavy tub of white, viscous cream. "No... please, no more. Just let me get dressed."

"Now, Little Bird," James scolded gently, "we can’t have you chafing. Your skin is far too precious to be left unprotected."

Porter and Gus stepped in to help. Together, they took hold of her plump, curvy cheeks, pulling them wide apart. The sound of the skin stretching was a soft, tactile thud-shlick. Rio felt the cool air of the bathroom hit her most private, sensitive areas as she was held open for all to see—including the blushing nurse.

"Ready, Vale," Gus said.

Vale scooped out a massive, heavy dollop of the white paste. It was thick, opaque, and smelled strongly of medicinal menthol. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to slather it over Rio’s bottom. He didn't just apply it; he massaged it in, his fingers working the heavy cream deep into her butt crack, ensuring every inch of her rosy skin was coated in a thick, white layer.

"We have to be very thorough, honey," Vale whispered as he used his palm to spread the paste in wide, circular motions across her plump bottom. "There. Look at how well that coats. You're going to be so protected."

The humiliation reached a fever pitch as the brothers took turns "perfecting" the application. They doted over the "squeaky" texture of the cream, smoothing it over her curves until she looked like she had been frosted.

"Alright, sweetheart, you can stand up now," Porter said, helping her straighten her dainty frame.

As Rio stood, she felt the immediate, overwhelming sensation of the treatment. Every time she moved, her butt cheeks slid against one another with a heavy, muffled squish-squelch. The paste was so thick and mushy that it felt like she was carrying a heavy weight between her legs. Each step she took toward the recovery bed resulted in a loud, wet mush sound that echoed in the quiet bathroom.

"It feels... so gross," Rio whimpered, her face buried in her hands as the handsome nurse held the door open for her.

"It’s just your medicine, Rio," Gus said, walking closely behind her to monitor her "mushy" gait. "The more it squishes, the more it’s working. You just focus on getting to your nap. Your brothers have everything under control."

The sun had long since set, casting the recovery suite into a warm, amber glow from the designer lamps. Rio lay on her stomach, buried in silk pillows, her long dark hair spread out like a fan. She was full of anguish and exhausted from the day’s ordeals, but the thick, heavy sensation between her cheeks was a constant, "mushy" reminder of her brothers' over-the-top care.

Just as she was drifting off, the heavy oak doors creaked open. The "Mother Hen" quartet entered in a silent, synchronized line, still in their white coats, followed by the handsome nurse, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but couldn't look away from Rio’s exotic beauty.

"Check-up time, Little Bird," Gus announced, his voice a gentle but firm rumble.

"No... please," Rio groaned into her pillow. "I'm fine. I'm all better."

"We'll be the judge of that, sweetheart," James said, stepping to the bedside. He reached down and peeled back the duvet, exposing Rio’s dainty figure. The thick diaper paste had remained remarkably intact; it was still a heavy, opaque white, slick and glistening under the lamplight.

"It’s stayed nice and mushy," Porter noted, leaning in close with a clinical flashlight. "But we need to ensure the internal irritation has subsided. Position, Rio. You know the brothers need to be thorough."

With a soul-crushing sigh, Rio pushed herself up. Because of the heavy coating of paste, the movement created a series of loud, wet splat-squish sounds that made the handsome nurse’s face turn a bright shade of crimson. She settled into the all-fours position, her plump, "frosted" bottom thrust into the air once more.

"Hold her steady, boys," Gus commanded.

Gus and James took their positions at her hips, their large hands gripping her soft, pale thighs. With a practiced, doting synchronized move, they pulled her cheeks wide apart. The sound was a heavy, suction-like shlick-pop as the thick paste was forced to stretch and part, revealing the deep, hidden rosy skin beneath the white cream.

"Oh, look, Vale," Porter whispered, pointing with his penlight. "The paste has worked wonders, but it’s quite a mess in there. We need to work it in deeper to make sure she's protected for the night."

Vale stepped forward, his expression one of pure, doting focus. He didn't just use a finger this time; he used his whole palm to firmly press against her, the sound of the thick, white mush being compressed against her "squeaky" skin a loud, rhythmic squelch-mush-squelch.

"There we go," Vale cooed, his hand moving in deep, circular motions that made Rio’s entire dainty frame shake. "Is that feeling better, Rio? Is the cool cream helping your tummy?"

Rio couldn't even answer; she was too busy trying to hide her face from the handsome nurse, who was now standing at the foot of the bed, holding the fresh "overnight" supplies. He watched as Vale’s hand disappeared partially into the "mush," working the paste deep into the rectal opening with an invasive, hovering attention to detail.

"She's so reactive tonight," James noted, petting her hair. "Look at how her muscles are jumping. She’s just a sensitive little thing, isn't she?"

After ten minutes of "re-applying" and "massaging" the heavy paste—accompanied by constant wet, squishing sounds—Gus finally signaled the end of the exam.

"Perfect," Gus pronounced. "She’s completely coated. She’ll feel like she’s sitting on a cloud all night."

As they tucked her back in, the "mushy" sound followed her every movement. The brothers kissed her forehead one by one, leaving her in the care of the blushing nurse who had to stay behind to "monitor" her.