"Come on in, Maegan," she greeted cheerfully, her footsteps growing in volume as she led the head of my department at work back to the bathroom.

"Oh no," I thought to myself. "If my department head sees me like this, I'll never live it down around the office." I moaned in absolute mortification as two sets of footfalls approached the throne room.

The short, full-figured blonde waltzed into the room of my humiliation behind my pregnant wife, her eyes lighting up gleefully as she spied my position of abjection on the massage table. "Ellie, that's intense--the most outrageous sympathetic pregnancy I've ever seen. Is he wearing an empathy belly, or what?"

"Naw--this is the real thing. See that big tube coming out of his butt?"

"An enema? What a novel idea!"

"Not just any enema, either, Meg. He's got a two and a half gallon baking soda solution, plus a half gallon of icy lemonade, locked inside him with a 500c inflatable nozzle balloon attached to a 27mm 50FR colon tube." She patted my belly distractedly as she asked, "Wanna feel how hard his tummy is?"

The shorter woman placed her hand against my swollen belly, patting it gently, then with increasing pressure before she began to squeeze and knead my tortured flesh. "Are you in any pain, Paul?" she inquired.

"I feel like I'm gonna die." I belched, nauseous again from the incredible gas inside my bowels.

"Better not--if you die, we'll withdraw our share of your IRA contribution for this year," she proclaimed with her typically sardonic grin.

"I guess we'd best let him release this," Ellie conceded. "Meg, will you do me a favor while I go to the kitchen to warm up some milk for his final rinse?"

"What's that, Ellie?"

"Massage his overloaded gut with this vibrator while he's expelling that busy solution. It may help ease his gas pains a bit."

"Sure thing," she conceded eagerly, drawing my blossoming wife into a soulful hug and kiss before turning to assist with the next phase of my treatment.

As soon as Ellie had left the room, Maegan aimed the abrasive plate attached to the vibrator dead center in the middle of my vastly inflated gut, pushing hard as she deflated the inflatable nozzle and whisked the balloons out of my ass after positioning an oversized rubber bedpan under me. Turning the vibrator switch to high, she pushed forcefully into my protesting abdomen as the huge, crampy purge began to explode from my male pussy, punctuated by thunderous farts that echoed through the expanse of my tormented bowels. As my expulsion slowed to a trickle, the short, stocky blonde moved the plate to the lower right side of my midsection, beginning a vigorous massage in a clockwise motion that moved gradually up around my waistline then back down to concentrate about five inches above my crotch on the left, pressing forcefully into my sigmoid colon. More farts and explosive cramps punctuated this activity, and I could hear the noisy exit of additional solution and feces as she continued to pummel my still-distended belly with the vibrator's harsh plate.

Meg had just assisted me into a semi-squatting position over the toilet and started wiping my bespattered tush with bath tissue and baby wipes when Ellie (in her Queen Satana persona) returned to the bathroom with a clear 3.8 quart hospital style opentop bag filled with two layers of solution: the bottom half was white, while the top half was dark brown. "Have you inspected his latest return yet?" she inquired of my supervisor.

"No, but I'll do it right now." Her hands on my hips pushed me away from the toilet so she could look into the dirty water. "Still some big chunks in here," she observed. "Is that what I think it is? An old fashioned black and white treatment?"

"Sure is," Mistress Satana snarled. She pulled the hose up in her hands after hanging the bag on the IV stand. "Check out this buttplug nozzle I'm using; the fat part is 2 1/4" wide, the neck tapers to 1", and it's eight inches long. It should prove very effective." She brought it close to my eyes so I could stare at it in wonder and dread.

"That'll tickle your innards," Meg observed. "With the gallon shooter of milk and blackstrap molasses, you'll need all the help you can get in retaining this load." She patted my flattened belly and said, "I can't wait to see this get blown up with that yummy mixture."

"Will you help me get that St. Andrew's cross from the closet?" Ellie inquired of her volunteer assistant. "I think it's best that we hang him upside down for this treatment."

"You betcha, sweetycakes," she grinned like the proverbial Chesire cat. They exited the throne room for the desired bondage suspension device as I stood there, head bowed and eyes downcast, pondering my fate. A few minutes later, they returned with the contraption, placing it squarely in the tub. "Bend over on all fours in front of the tub," Ellie/Queen Satana directed, "then spread your fannycheeks as far apart as you can get them." As I complied with this obscene command, I felt small fingers slowly penetrate my bung. "If you guessed that it's Maegan's fingers, and not mine, that are going into your asshole, you're right," Queen Satana announced. "I dub her Princess Dread, and she might even be able to get her whole hand inside you to prepare you for this big plug nozzle."

My dick was returning to full erection from the action in my rear, and I heard Meg observe, "I've got three fingers inside him right now, and it's really a comfortable fit." I felt the withdrawal of the fingers, then a reinsertion that stretched me a bit more as the blonde troll announced, "Four fingers," and continued to fingerfuck my anus slowly and sensuously, gradually speeding up until she was almost slamming those wicked digits in and out of my opening fannysocket. Pulling her fingers from my behind with a pop, she made a wedge of all five fingers and slowly eased them inside me; I felt an intense stretching for a few moments, then a slow insertion, followed by the feeling of her wiggling four fingers and a thumb inside me. "I got it," she whooped triumphantly, beginning an in and out motion that had me feeling her fist all the way up to my stomach (it felt that way at least) and caused the preejaculate to weep from my penis at a rapid rate.

"That's enough," Ellie announced. "We don't want him to come just yet. If you can pull your hand out of him without lacerating his colon, Princess Dread, we'll get the plug installed and get him strapped onto the cross." I felt her hand slowly withdraw, a slight stretching pain in my anus as the wide part of Princess Dread's hand departed my opened bottom. My hole felt so open and empty that I shivered, but only for a moment, as Queen Satana was quick to ease the big plug nozzle up my rear until the shoulder passed my outer sphincter and the device seated itself fully in my apprehensive rectum. "Now you can stand in the tub, back against the cross."

As I positioned myself thusly, she and Princess Dread began fastening the straps to my ankles, securing them firmly to the bottom legs of the cross, then did the same with my wrists at the tops of the crosspieces. Finally, they fastened a four-inch wide leather belt tightly around my waist, unlocked the swivel fitting on the back of the cross, and spun it 180 degrees to place me upside down. Moving the IV stand closer to the tub in which I was suspended, Queen Satana rehung the bag on the top horizontal, directing Princess Dread to pick up the vibrator with the sandpaper plate attachment on it. "Since he's upside down, we can fill him really rapidly, but only if you keep this pressed against his belly to move the solution all the way into his colon. Ready?"

Maegan grinned her best Chesire cat smile, took the vibrator in her right hand, turned on the power switch, and pushed it hard against the middle of my gut as Ellie opened the clamp that would deliver the wicked mixture into my hapless bowels.

I at first felt the soothing, creamy warmth of the milk as it began to flow into my newly-empty colon, and the vibrator massage at Princess Dread's hands felt exquisite. This comfort lasted only a few minutes before the molasses began to flow inside me behind the milk; a cramp hit my middle that had me instantly crying and gagging as the wicked solution continued to force its way deep into my innards.

"I imagine he won't even bitch about the huge colonic we're going to give him after we finally let him release this, will he?" Maegan asked Ellie, pushing the vibrator in rough circles around my expanding belly as she snickered sadistically.

"Somehow, I doubt it," Queen Satana exclaimed gleefully. "One thing I'm going to teach you, worm, is that you can't possibly endure enough belly pain and pressure to fully train you to empathize with what I'm going through bearing this child for us." She grabbed my still-firm cock, moistening the glans with the preejaculate that kept weeping from my urethra in spite of the awful cramps in my bloated guts, and added, "Look at the little pig; he's still horny even though his tummy must feel like Armageddon is being waged inside him." As she made this observation, I felt the urge to gag, and whimpered as the vomit pushed my mouth open and launched itself all over my upside-down body. The pain in my guts was so intense that I ejaculated forcefully all over my distended abdomen before I was done puking. "See there, Princess Dread. Even when we fill his middle with something so abrasive that it makes him barf, he still ejaculates like a Pavlovian response to the pressure in his bowels." She moved away for a minute, during which I could hear the sound of running water, and returned with a soapy sponge for the purpose of wiping the vomitus and sticky seminal fluid off my belly and chest and neck and face. "It's fun watching him suffer, isn't it?"

"You bet," Meg replied, adding, "we'll have to bring my boyfriend over for his next session, just so he knows what he'll be in for within a few weeks." She resumed her vibrator action on my swollen center as the bag gurgled dry and Ellie closed the clamp with a sharp click.

"Do you mean?" Ellie began.

"Yeah, I missed my last period. A visit to my ob/gyn doctor confirmed my pregnancy yesterday. I'm about six weeks along."

"Hon, we've got to get that boyfriend of yours over here quick, and begin training him." An evil smirk crossed my wife's normally placid features, and she inquired, "How'd you feel about us extending treatments for my hubby here past my due date and up until you give birth, too? Do you think that would teach him to be more appreciative of what we women face producing children?"

"I think it would be a wonderful idea," the zäftig blonde concurred. "I'll go call my boyfriend right now--we can start him on the same course while dipshit here is expelling and getting his ass ready for extended colonic therapy." She handed Ellie/Queen Satana the vibrator, left the room, and fetched her cell phone from her purse.

She was still talking when she came back into the bathroom. "That's right; grab a big package of chocolated Ex-Lax and a dozen bottles of magnesium citrate on your way over here. I'm already getting constipated from my pregnancy." She turned off the phone and looked at us with a lustful expression on her face. "How much longer are we going to make him hold this purge?" she inquired.

"I'd like to make him hold it for about a week, but that would be impractical. How about we let him release just after your boyfriend gets here?"

"Sounds good to me--should I keep stirring up this load with the vibrator?"

"Absolutely, Meg dear. It won't clean him out the right way unless we get it into every hidden pocket of his slimy colon." She patted my belly affectionately, then moved away to begin preparing equipment for the super-rinse I anticipated both with longing and trepidation.