Nurse Evans had a no-nonsense face and graying hair pulled back tight. Her eyes had small radiating lines that deepened as she looked at Rachel.

“You’re just finishing up your senior year isn’t that right?”

Rachel nodded, playing with the pen. She wished her mother had stayed a little longer, but she had that dinner coming up and Rachel was eighteen now. They had promised it would be an easy overnight, nothing scary, just the doctors doing a “scan” they called it tomorrow. She should have asked Mary Sue to come with her, she could have kept her company until bedtime at least.

“Well that means you can sign there all by yourself honey.” Nurse Evans tapped the paper next to signature line. She looked at Rachel like she was a little girl, eighteen or not, and Rachel swallowed, quickly signing.

Her mother had tried to explain why she even needed the test, how they just wanted to make sure her insides were normal, that they weren’t worried, that they had been insistent as a little girl that when she was older they would want to make sure everything came out alright in there. She still didn’t really understand but even thinking about those few doctors visits growing up made her uncomfortable. She could remember the smells of the office, the kindly older doctors, and, she shifted as she set the pen down, the worrying she might have to take her underwear off.

“I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Nurse Evans took the paper and pen, slipping more paperwork into a folder and sliding it into a rack stuffed with other folders on a very busy and scattered counter top, giving the harried looking lady on the phone a little wave before steering Rachel down the long hallway.

“Well they are going to use a new way to see inside your stomach Rachel, ultra something. Its some new thing that shows them your insides.”

Rachel made a face, scrunching her nose and Nurse Evans pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Nothing like that, nothing you have to worry about. They just press on your stomach, just push around and it shows them what’s in there. So it’s easy honey, doesn’t hurt, just feels like someone pressing around on your belly.”

Rachel looked uncertain, wondering how they were able to see inside. “Like an x-ray?”

The nurse nodded, steering her around an abandoned wheelchair and through a group of volunteers helping an older women take some tentative steps, “like an x-ray honey, except instead of broken bones they can see anything in your belly that might cause problems.”

“Why can’t I just have a normal appointment? Couldn’t I wait and just go with my mom?”

Nurse Evans shook her head, taking a wide corner in another hallway and walking past a few open doors, the smell of the hospital clean and strange, before finally stopping in front of an empty patient room and stepping inside. She patted the bed, pulling the pale blue blanket and sheet down partway.

“Here we go, room 187, just for you today it looks like. Lucky girl, we’re very busy.”

Rachel made a face, walking into the room and sitting on the bed.

“I still don’t get it.”

“Well they want a clear look Rachel, and the doctors are very insistent that you’re ready for the procedure when it’s time. Ready means they want you squeaky clean, and I mean clean honey.”

Rachel wasn’t sure what she meant, shrugging, “Like special soap?”

Nurse Evans shook her head looking serious, “Clean inside Rachel. They’re going to want to make sure you’ve used the bathroom.”

Rachel felt her ears warm, she was terribly shy about anything around the bathroom and she stuttered for a second, “I… I… Did…”

“That means a good productive bowel movement in the morning. Have you been regular dear?”

Rachel’s cheeks were warming with her ears and she tried to nod. She felt her nerves surge, a little voice inside begging, please don’t let this be about anything like that. She didn’t know what to say, remembering the days as a little girl her mother would try and coax and convince her to use the toilet.

“Okay. Now I don’t want any fuss, but just to be sure there are going to be a few good enemas in the morning before they take you in there.”

The word enema caused a rush of warmth to her cheeks and she tried to shake her head, opening her mouth, the little voice inside her whimpering as the anxiety and and embarrassment she felt more than once as a girl crept through her stomach.

“That means hot soapy water in every little nook and cranny. I know your mother so I’m sure you had at least a couple encounters with the bag when you were little right?”

Rachel looked down at the smooth floor heart thumping. She was right and her belly squirmed at the memories, secret memories, standing in the hallway outside the bathroom, the sounds of running water and the smell of soap in the air, nervous, knowing she was going to feel that slippery tube and the water, so much water, the begging as she tried to hold it, her mother’s soft firm voice telling her just a little more. She had thought about those memories so much growing up, the strange feelings, wondering if other girls and boys got them.

“Well we need to be a bit more thorough tomorrow Rachel, but I’m sure Wilson will explain it to you.”

“Wi...Wilson?” She looked up, suddenly nervous, “Nurse Wilson?”

Nurse Evans looked momentarily sympathetic, eyebrows raising before shaking her head.

“No Rachel, Wilson is the orderly that is going to get you ready tomorrow.”

“But, a man?” She felt her skin prickle and she bit her lip looking at Nurse Evans.

“We’re all professionals here Rachel, I don’t want any nonsense about that now. You know the doctors are men right? Do you expect them not to have to operate on girls?

Rachel shook her head, confused, stumbling over her worries, “Is he though… He’s”

“He’s worked here a long time Rachel, he’s helped lots of girls just like you.”

She felt close to panic, the sounds of the hospital fading into the background and her chin started to crinkle. This was just worse and worse. She wished her mother was here, or Mary Sue, or even her aunt Maven. She shook her head, she didn’t want to talk to a stranger about something so private, didn’t want a man talking to her about an enema. Talking about it with Nurse Evans was hard enough. Her stomach fluttered again at the thought.

“Well we can talk to your parents and tell them you declined Rachel. I’m not sure they’ll be pleased about the costs, but perhaps you can speak with your mother and you will have another chance in a few months.”

“B..but.. isn’t there anyone else?” Her heart sank hearing Nurse Evans listing out the issues in that no-nonsense voice and the thought of her mother getting on the phone, she would be furious. She stumbled, voice breaking again, “Just, I’m just…”

“Wilson is a professional Rachel, do you know how often he needs to do this? Do you really want to get your parents involved over something like this? You’re an adult now, and that means taking care of adult things. You don’t think you can just make it through?”

Rachel wasn’t sure she could make it through. Just asking for a bathroom pass in school as a girl was embarrassing. The idea the teacher, she could remember one teacher in particular, knew she was going to the bathroom made her squirm. Doctor visits were just as bad. She could remember the feeling in her stomach every time the doctor walked in the exam room when she was little, so worried she would hear those words, the doctor’s firm voice, ‘lift your hips honey, I have to take your panties off’.

She cringed remembering the air on her bare skin as a little girl, looking up just as a huge man, tall and black stepped into the doorway smiling at Nurse Evans. He was so big, broad and sturdy with thick arms black against the starched crisp white of an orderly’s uniform. His hair was cropped short, tight black and he nodded towards her.

“Oh here he is now Rachel, this is Wilson, he’ll be helping you tomorrow.”

“A fine evening Nurse Evans.” His voice rumbled and he grinned.

His grin was white and Rachel felt her mouth open slightly with a confusing mix of feelings. His chest and shoulders were almost too much for the white starched short sleeve shirt, a name-tag hanging from the front shirt pocket. His arms were huge, he was like a football player, or a big black man she might see on television. Her parents didn’t have any black friends even though they were always careful about treating different people with respect. Rachel knew there was nothing different about him, but something inside of her felt a strange shiver.

“Don’t give me that, it’s a mess out there tonight and you know it.”

He laughed, looking at Rachel. “Rachel is it?” His voice was a bass burr as he followed Nurse Evans into the room, standing behind her.

He grinned that bright smile and tilted his chin towards her. He was so tall he was looking right over Nurse Evans until he stepped around her closer to the side of the bed.

“You can call me Wilson Rachel, or some of the younger girls will call me Mr. Wilson or Sir just like your parents taught you.”

She tried to mumble something, looking down at her feet trying not to think about what he was here for.

“Looks like you’re on my list for tomorrow morning huh?”

She gave a small shrug, trapped with the nurse and this hulking orderly.

“I know lil’ miss, you’d prob’ly rather be taking your worst math test instead a gettin’ a enema tomorrow, huh?”

The word sent another wave of warm ripples through her, she could feel it in her toes and between her legs, his voice big enough she worried someone would hear him, and then someone else would know.

“There’s nothing to be shy about honey. I always tell you girls it’s like cleaning out the basement. It might be full of old junk but we need to do it right? Get all that junk out, empty through and through.”

She bit her lip thinking about what he really meant and mumbled again. She could still remember the day in the backyard, her favorite teacher, a man the around the same age as her father, laughing and smiling with their family. It was summer, warm and clear and Rachel could still hear his voice urging his big dog to go potty. She could remember how uncomfortable it made her feel, watching the dog, wondering if it got embarrassed like she did, chewing her fingers in the way her mom hated. They were all watching the dog and she was embarrassed as it started to come out in front of everyone, the teacher’s encouragement, telling the dog what a good girl she was. She could still remember the feeling, the shock, as her dad laughingly said to her teacher, “Now if only it was that easy to get Rachel to poop.”

She could remember that awful humiliation as he laughed with her dad, his brown eyes looking at her like she was a baby, shaking his head. She could hardly go to school after that, her head down in class for months wondering if he remembered. The embarrassment was so bad she had secret feelings about it, daydreams that would make her feel hot all over.

“Try and speak up Rachel,” Nurse Evans shook her head, “You’re an adult now.”

She didn’t feel like one but she tried to look up, her cheeks still flushed and mumbled a little less, at a loss for words, “Yes Sir.”

“Good, good. Try and get a nice sleep there Rachel and I’ll find you tomorrow and I’ll get you all fixed up, cleaned out, and ready for your tests.”

He said something to Nurse Evans about another orderly and they both laughed but she could hardly hear them, frozen with the idea that this big strange black man was somehow involved in one of her worst nightmares. Cleaned out. She was numb as he gave a final wave and left both of them standing in the room.

“Now, no sad faces Rachel.” Nurse Evans crossed her arms, “You’re not going to be silly about things now are you?”

Rachel could still feel her heartbeat, could still see the afterimage of Wilson standing in the doorway, the breadth of his chest and shoulders, the size of his hand as it had causally rested on the door-frame, skin a dark chocolate, his palm a pale contrast.

“It’s not because Wilson is black is it Rachel? You know how important equality is. I don’t think anyone would be very pleased that you weren’t willing to get your tests because the person that was going to help you is black, now would they?”

Rachel swallowed, it wasn’t because he was black, she gripped the bed covering shaking her head, it was because she didn’t want him to see her naked. A man, a real man seeing her like that. The thought sent another shiver through her as she tried to protest. It was the worst of her imagination every time she rode in the car on the way to an appointment as a girl. Sick with worry days beforehand that she might have to take her underwear off, that a doctor would look.

“It’s just… it’s not…” She gave up, mumbling, she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t let them call her parents and tell them she wouldn’t go through with it. They would be so furious. Her knees were weak as she sat on the bed. It was all coming together with a gnawing deep feeling of dread, skin prickling as she felt the secret feelings, the horrible embarrassment, taking her underwear off at the doctor, those afternoons with her mother and the red rubber bag of hot soapy water, the tight shame of her favorite teacher watching that big dog and her dad making him think of her at the same time. There was nothing she could do except act like an adult. She shrugged at Nurse Evans and the little girl inside her head shivered with a wave of desperate, anxious, icy hot anticipation.

*************

*************

Rachel tossed and turned, her dreams hazy, unable to stop thinking about Wilson. Big, black Wilson. She slipped deeper into dreams, her mother suddenly sitting at the kitchen table across from her, Wilson sitting to her left, his large hands delicately holding a tiny coffee cup.

“It’s terrible Wilson, she just won’t listen to me. It’s so full of junk.”

She knew they were talking about the basement, and as her mother told Wilson she felt the dream, hot and dreadful, her skin prickling as she was unable to stop her mother from telling him something so secret.

The shame and the dread grew and she realized there was a curtain hanging down the wall. A large curtain and she knew somehow, the way she would feel things in dreams, that the basement door was hidden behind it. The curtain was cloth, white cotton with a pattern she remembered as a little girl, the same little blue flowers that covered her panties back then, but larger and she looked at Wilson as if he might somehow know and more dread crept over her skin. There was a weakness in her knees as she thought about Wilson moving the curtain, about him seeing the basement door and her hands gripping the table began to shake.

“Wilson’s going to clean everything out honey. He’s going to go in the basement and get everything out.”

Rachel tried to shake her head, tried to speak, desperate to send them away.

“When she was little the basement would get so full. Wouldn’t it Rachel?”

Her skin was hot with embarrassment, shaking her head even as her mother’s voice continued.

“I think she liked it, liked having it so full until we would finally have to make her empty it out.”

She tried to find her voice, tried to deny what her mother was saying but Wilson was nodding, looking at her like she was that little girl again.

“Don’t be so silly, he’s going to go in the basement Rachel.”

She shook, her hands clenching as she tried to speak, Wilson nodding slowly, his eyes on the curtain, his voice that bass rumble, “I will indeed, I’ll go in and out until we get all that junk out. In and out Rachel, in and out right?”

Wilson’s voice, his gaze was drowned out by a new sound, her skin hot, a purring, a constant growing purring and Rachel realized that the family cat from years ago was in her lap, warm and rumbling with purrs even as she desperately tried to stop Wilson from seeing behind the curtain.

The purring rippled louder and her mother’s shape was different her voice different, not her mother, a figure stern in a nurses uniform. Nurse Evans standing next to the curtain shaking her head.

“Don’t be silly Rachel, Wilson needs to clean out the basement.”

The purring intensified as Rachel felt dread, squirming in her chair looking at Mr. Wilson watching the curtain, his eyes moldering, big dark fingers gripping the small white cup. The dread was a knot in the pit of her stomach as Nurse Evans began to move the curtain, deep like quivering jello inside her as it moved into her legs, desperate to keep the curtain closed, feeling the cat purr louder and louder. Her palms began to sweat, pleading as she looked at Wilson, almost shaking as the frame of the door started to come into view. She could see it now, Wilson could start to see it, the dark frame, the doorway, dark wood against the pale walls and she kept squirming in her chair.

Wilson was leaning forward, holding the tiny coffee cup, nodding slowly as Nurse Evans slowly pulled the curtain away, the doorway somehow lurid in the light of the dream, and Rachel didn’t want to look, didn’t want Wilson to see it, the moments as the curtain moved pulsing inside her, the dark frame, the wooden textured with deep grains, the door closed tight.

“No please, please don’t make me open the door.”

His hand was big, pressed against the door, the soft dark brown of his skin darker than the brown wood of the door. She pleaded, his hand on the door making her heart thud in her chest, the cat winding through her ankles, purrs rumbling from it’s small body.

“Don’t make me open it, please don’t make me.”

“It’s just a basement Rachel, don’t be silly.”

He kept pressure on the door and her pulse rose, her skin hot as she tried again, begging, but Wilson’s hand was big and strong, and her knees felt like water, the purring buzzing and rumbling between her legs as the tightly closed door began to slowly open.

“Good girl Rachel.”

A man’s voice, the voice of her fourth grade teacher was reassuring, suddenly next to her and she realized he could see the curtain pulled back, he could see the door, the dark frame, he could see Wilson’s hand helping her open it and her body went damp, surging awake in humiliation and some deeper feeling.

*************

*************

“Well Rachel, looks like it’s time for you’n me to take care of something huh?” Wilson rolled a hospital wheelchair into the room as Rachel felt her heart start to beat. It couldn’t be time already, she just couldn’t make herself believe what was happening even as she looked at Wilson, standing there in his white uniform, hands holding the handles of the chair.

“I… I don’t think I...”

“Now I know you might be nervous or shy lil’ miss but we’ve already agreed that you’re going to be a good girl. It’s too late now to think about calling your mom, you had your chance to say no yesterday isn’t that right?”

Rachel bit her lip, remembering shaking her head when Nurse Evans offered to call her mother, how angry they would be if they had to pay for her leaving.

“Yes sir.” Her voice was small.

“Look at me now Rachel. You know why I’m here right?”

She couldn’t say it, looking at him and then down at the blanket.

“It’s my job to make you have a good movement this morning and I don’t want any backtalk or fuss. I’m sure your parents would expect you to act like the adult you are.”

Rachel felt something shiver inside her as he said it. The words used to hide what he meant, to make it seem less embarrassing. He was going to make her and she knew it was true, make her have a movement. She knew what it meant, make her strain and hold it, make her sweat, make her feel that deep feeling that would turn into that begging, the pleading finally rewarded, finally allowed to turn into those long low grunts.

“Did you sit on the toilet this morning?”

She could feel the hair on her arms as she shook her head, the awful, embarrassing conversations with her mother as a girl, the careful interrogations where her mother would finally get her to admit she hadn’t gone to the bathroom, rising in her mind.

“I… I guess not.”

“No number two?”

Her cheeks were pink, it was even worse admitting to someone else and she shook her head.

“Really? Yesterday? Are things a little slow in there?”

The pink slowly rose to her ears, it was worse than her mother, this strange man, gentle but using that same firm voice her mother or worse, her dad, would use.

“Well maybe its a good thing you’re having a test today lil’ miss. You’re all stuffed up.”

She felt cold and hot as the embarrassment rushed through her, the same words her mother would use, ‘stuffed up’. He was right and her ears burned, he was right and he was going to find out, he was going to know that she could feel it, heavy and achy in her tummy, full and tired. He said he was going to make her go and she believed him, the slow icy dread of inevitability creeping through her bones.

“Didn’t your mother teach you how important it is to be regular?”

She felt her thighs clench against the embarrassment, a warm throb between her legs. It was the conversation. The talks she always hated, squirming, wanting to be somewhere else.

“Did she teach you to sit everyday Rachel?”

Rachel forced herself to nod.

“You know how to relax on the toilet lil’ miss?”

She nodded again and he waited, finally a small “Yes sir,” creeping out.

“You take nice deep breaths and relax?”

She nodded, eyes focused on her fidgeting fingers.

“Sometimes it can take a while lil’ miss. You know not to rush right? Relax your bottom?”

Her mother’s voice, her father’s voice, telling her she needed to sit on the potty until she did her business.

“Does it hurt honey? Maybe it’s too big?”

Her heart squeezed in embarrassment, it just got worse, his voice, gentle but firm and the sound of her teacher’s voice ran through her mind, encouraging his big dog with those ‘good girls’.

“Does it Rachel? Do you wait too long?”

She shook her head, unable to talk about all the complicated feelings, the private feelings and he kept going.

“Does it maybe feel good lil’ miss?”

She felt the heat and the throb of embarrassment, as if he somehow knew, could see into her mind and those feelings she would wait for, the perfect secret feelings when it was all just right, big and slow, stretching, the feeling of something deep inside her like, like the enema. There was another throb; like the enema he was about to give her.

His hand slipped over her wrist, huge and he held it for a moment looking at her. She wanted to squirm away, hide, but he was firm.

“I want you to understand what we’re gonna to do lil’ miss. I’m going to take you over to a special room and I can’t listen to any whining, any fussing. It’s my job to make you take a big enema and I’m going to make you have a good, a really good movement for me. No fuss now.”

She felt pinned under the blanket, hot, flushed as the feeling ran through her, the dread and the memories, the feelings of the nozzle, the begging and squirming, lifting and squeezing her bottom as the soapy hot water did it’s private work and she felt his weight, his massive presence, knowing what he was going to do to her and her bottom hole clenched, all between her legs clenched and squeezed, throbbing with the memories of it, with what was coming, but she had to act normal. Face warm, she could barely nod.

“You’ll feel better after we’re done, I promise.” Wilson rubbed her leg for a moment through the hospital blanket, straightening up over her bed and motioning to the wheelchair.

“Uh, I don’t… Do I need a wheelchair?”

Wilson shrugged those broad shoulders and stepped around it offering a hand, “It’s just something they like us to do. You’re gonna have to get a lot of water out and that can tire a girl out now can’t it?”

She stood up slowly, not wanting to answer but remembering at least one long tiring session with more than one very full bag as a girl.

“Now did Nurse Evans get you tucked in last night? Sleep okay here? It can be rough in a new place huh? Now she got you undressed there right? No underwear unda’ there?”

She felt herself freeze, hands holding the edge of the bed but she couldn’t lie and she shook her head, “I didn’t take them off, I just, I guess I forgot.” She felt the sinking feeling even as he smiled at her.

“Well off they come, we’ll leave them in here for when you’re all done later.”

She looked around, for a second hoping there was some place, some privacy even though she had her gown on but Wilson was just waiting, holding out a hand for her underwear. She felt so awkward, reaching behind where the gown opened, fingers slipping into her panties. Even though she was covered the gown felt like nothing at all and the feeling of open air, of nakedness slipped over her skin as she shimmied them down, lifting one foot then the next. She kept the thin fabric of her underwear scrunched in her hands and suddenly the feel of them in her hands reminded her of how she had spent the morning, tossing and turning and clenching, thinking about what was going to happen, the same memories, the feelings of the dream all leaving her private parts aching, the conversation she just had and those secrets and feelings leaking out, leaving that slick dampness in her panties. She was suddenly hot with embarrassment and tried to lean over to put them in someplace out of sight.

“No, give ‘em to me lil’ miss. I’ll just put them in the drawer.”

She couldn’t stop him, her hands trembling slightly as his big warm fingers curled around her closed hand, gently taking her underwear. He turned the pink cotton slowly, letting the shape of them open up, the darker wetness glaring and she felt a flush from her chest to her toes. She couldn’t breathe as he looked, his brown eyes resting there for what seemed forever, before carefully, slowly folding her panties. She felt cold and hot and his eyes caught hers. She thought he might say something, tell her he knew what she had been thinking about, tell her he knew why her panties were soaked through. His eyes, his face seemed to somehow know everything, to see into the dream that still throbbed inside her, but he just smiled.

“There we go, now you’re all set. Here now, hop in. I’ll wheel you over there and you don’t have to worry about accidentally shown’ off your rear with that gown. Least ‘till we get down to business.”

She tried to keep the gown closed as she sat in the chair, her small frame nothing to him as he wheeled her around and she swallowed, trying not to think about just how much business her rear was about to get down to.

*************

*************

The room felt very open, even as the door closed shut behind Rachel. The floor was a smooth cool white and the walls were a white tile. The tile went up to shoulder height before turning into a soft mint green paint. The air was almost warm, and stirred, the whirring of fans with a soft irregular clicking coming from the vents in the ceiling. There was what looked like an open shower area in the back corner and she swallowed at the toilet jutting from the wall next to it, a large white hospital toilet, seat closed and gleaming white with no walls. Her heart squeezed. No privacy.

Her eyes followed Wilson as he walked towards the center of the back half of the room where a large medical table stretched, a strange combination of black vinyl and gray painted frame. It looked like the sections were adjustable, the padding split into various rectangles. The end of the padded table was partially over a built in sink of some kind, the same thick gleaming porcelain of the toilet, and there were various hoses and knobs. A silvery pole rose from the side of the table, adjustable height, with a translucent plastic bucket hanging from it. Her breath caught, it wasn’t a bag, the red bag, but she knew right away what the bucket was, tubing attached to the bottom and drooping down and around to hang in loops over the arm of the pole. He was going to fill that bucket up. Her hands clenched around the thin cloth of the gown, her eyes following the tubing around, and then that bucket was going to fill her up.

“Come on over here lil’ miss.”

Wilson walked towards the table, motioning for Rachel to follow. The back wall and corner opposite the shower was all beige counter-top, with a metal sink and drawers and cupboards. There were already some containers out and Wilson opened another cupboard to set out a box of latex gloves and some more containers before turning back to the table.

She stepped closer, following him to the table. The large built in porcelain basin was partially under the end of the padded platform along with various hoses and knobs, gleaming like a complicated sink. Wilson unhooked a hose from the side of the table, squeezing a mechanism built into the brass nozzle and water shot into the white porcelain rushing around the rim as he rinsed it, water circling. It didn’t have a drain like a sink, and the water rushed around a large opening, disappearing the same way water disappears into a toilet, with that same flushing gurgling sound.

“Now you don’t worry about anything Rachel, I’m going to keep it all clean for you and we’re going to get everything down the drain. Understand?” He hooked the nozzle back on the side of the table, hose swaying as he stepped back.

Rachel nodded, not knowing what to say, not letting herself thing about what he meant by everything. She was so shy about things and now she was standing in this strange room, with this huge strange black man talking to her about going to bathroom. Her heart fluttered again and she fussed with the gown, trying to keep the open back closed.

“Now Nurse Evans told me that she knows your mother, and she was pretty sure you’ve had a few enemas growing up, as a little’n. That right?”

Her cheeks were hot as she nodded, looking at the floor.

“That’s good, your ma’ took good care of you. Now did she use a bag?”

Rachel nodded.

“She use soap?”

Rachel nodded, remembering her mother’s hands in the big bowl, mixing the water and a slippery white bar.

“Well I always start with a lotta soap, gets in there and makes the first one that much better. Gets this all over with for you faster. Now, that means you have to hold it in though, remember holding it?”

Rachel nodded, grimacing.

“So y’know what we’re gonna do then honey, some hot soapy water to get everything solid moving, then I’ll do few rinses ‘til we’re sure you’all clear okay?” He opened containers as he talked, glancing back at Rachel occasionally, turning on the water until it steamed, measuring out white flakes into a measuring cup and dumping them into a white pitcher.

He chuckled at Rachel’s expression, “I know, but I bet you’s right as can be after she was done with you. Felt good, nice’n healthy.”

The water sounded like static, rushing into the big white container, faint steam rising before he reached out and shut it off, using something with a long handle to whisk it, stirring and stirring.

Her mother never used flakes, she used the big white bar of soap, and Rachel could remember standing there feeling her stomach tingle as she watched her, a washcloth rubbing and rubbing that bar until the big bowl of water was the color of milk. She remembered the sinking feeling growing as her mother rubbed more and more soap into the water, knowing how that soap would feel, deep inside, bottom to belly.

She watched Wilson now as the water swirled, his big dark hands carefully whisking the soap in and the smell got stronger, her belly tingling as the scent of it lifted those memories higher, those days in the bathroom, her mother and the sickly strong smell of Ivory soap. The water went milky white, suds swirling tightly, building in the container as he tilted it, stirring more and more fine white suds up and she felt glued to the floor, the overwhelming feeling that he was going to put that soapy, sick feeling into her no matter how much she begged, no matter that she wasn’t that little girl anymore and she felt her palms damp with sweat.

He turned, rubbing her shoulder for a moment, giving a small squeeze as his big body pressed closer to her, leaning past her to reach up for the hanging bucket. He was so tall, pulling the bucket down and turning back to the sink. The tubing snaked and twisted on the counter, a metal clamp clicking and jumping as he held the bucket, his other hand lifting the sudsy soapy container of water he had mixed and Rachel watched the suds, the slimy thick water pour into the bucket, more and more water with faint steam even as the final mounds of fine white suds started to slip from the bottom of one container to the swirling top of the next.

“It’ll cool off a little bit there lil’ miss, always nice to start a little warmer than we need for the soap to melt. Now, hmm…” He opened a drawer and she saw a collection of tubing, stiff looking red rubber tubes, small holes in their rounded ends, all different diameters, other tubes wrapped in bundles, and in a white tray with black nozzles lined up loosely. His hand wandered over them as she stared, squeezing her hands as she recognized the enema nozzles, more than she’d ever seen, remembering how she would would secretly take them out at home, the few small nozzles hidden under their sink, touching them and thinking about all the ways they would go in someone’s bottom. He lingered for just a moment and she felt a tremor as a finger traced a thick black nozzle, straight as an arrow, as thick as one of his big fingers and longer than a pencil, with one end smoothly rounded with holes, and the other a small flat base with the smaller hose connector.

“Just nice and easy, this’ll get that soap in to get us started huh?” He took the nozzle out, handling it gently as he fished the end of the tubing from the counter, twisting the connector on and tugging. He wiggled the tubing, holding the nozzle over the sink and clicking the clamp, shaking the nozzle until there was a hiss and Rachel watched as that milky water dripped, oozed and finally surged out, a few seconds of soap drumming into the sink before he squeezed the clamp closed again.

There was so much soapy water in the bucket, heavy, but he lifted it easily with one hand, reaching past Rachel again to carefully hang it from the pole, suds swaying back and forth but the water stayed in the bucket. He looped the tubing around again, this time leaving the wet black nozzle hanging, dripping slowly, the dripping end rounded, her eyes caught as it hung there, glistening smooth and dark.

“Might’n be a lil’ bigger then you remember but I’ll put it in slowly don’t worry.”

She jerked her eyes away as Wilson stepped closer patting the table.

“Let’s get you in your birthday suit and on the table. Give me the gown and I’ll hang it up until we’re done.”

His eyes were gentle as he held out a hand but Rachel could still feel them and she shivered suddenly, the flimsy gown the last thing separating her from her dream, her eyes wild as she looked at the table and the door, barely separating her from the sounds of people in the hallway.

“Sooner we get started the sooner you’ll be done lil’ miss.”

She couldn’t move, her palms still damp, frozen as he stepped closer. He gently turned her towards the door and she could feel the tug of fabric as he undid the tie, her face warm as she felt the open air caressing her back, and then the feeling of the gown opening, knowing he could see her bare skin, her ears warm as he helped lift her arms, slipping the gown from first one, feeling air over her breast, her nipple and then the gown slipping free as he took it from her, her arm moving to cover herself, her other hand slipping down to cover the dark triangle of hair between her pale hips. He stepped past her to hang the gown and looked at her.

“Nothin’ be embarrassed about Rachel, just hop on the table and lay on your back so I can feel your belly.”

She wanted to hide, run, and she couldn’t look at him as she found the step at the base of the table. It was like the doctor’s table, no paper but that feeling rushed back, laying there with her underwear off as she lifted herself up onto the padded vinyl, scooting back further until she could lift her legs up and lay back, heart beating as she kept her arm over her bare chest, her hand still trying to cover the black bush of hair between her hips, her pubic hair drawing a dark black arrow pointing at the gap between her thighs, almost hiding the rise and cleft of those big lips.

His hands were so big, but he was gentle, firmly pressing, a deep pressure as he worked his fingers into her belly, his eyes intent on her stomach, moving and pushing until he finally paused, nodding.

“I think the basement is pretty packed Rachel. It’s not good for you honey, you need to get that stuff out.”

Rachel’s cheeks were flushed and she looked to the side, humiliated. She didn’t think she would ever have to talk to anyone about this, especially not a man she didn’t know. The idea that he could feel that she hadn’t used the bathroom was mortifying, as if she was a little girl again caught playing naughty, scolded for not using the potty when she was told.

“Well that’s what all that soap is for. It’s gonna get right in there and slip around everything, get it all slippery so it just starts to work its way out.”

His big hand slipped over her belly, cupping it for a small second before he leaned over and took the hanging nozzle, thick and long, flipping the tubing off of where the bucket was hanging, letting it droop down before snaking back up.

“Now I’ve learned a bit over the years Rachel, so you’ll have to trust me, can you do that for me?”

Rachel tried not to look at the nozzle, tried not to imagine where he was going to put it, tried to think about anything else, her arm still pressed over her chest but feeling the heat of embarrassment flushing her skin.

“Since I think you’ve been a bit slow we want to get the soap in deep. I’m going to put the nozzle in and then I like to give it a good chance to just flood right in there, fill you up right around the nozzle fast. I know you’ll feel it honey, strong, but then I’ll stop it right quick and we’ll rub your belly and let the water and soap slowly get a bit deeper before I open it up again and we get all the rest in there.”

She nodded, silent.

“I know a hot and soapy is a lot, and there’s a lot of water, but I know you can get every drop in there for me isn’t that right? Be a good girl for me and do what I tell you? If you keep your rear up, and pant like a puppy when I tell you, I think you’ll do just a fine job, just a fine job.”

Rachel felt her lower lip quiver slightly as she nodded again. She didn’t think he should be calling her a girl, but somehow with him standing over her, her arm trying to cover her bare breasts and the feeling of being naked, she felt like a little girl, back on the doctor’s table, no choice but to listen to the grownups, even with the shy butterflies in her stomach.

“Okay, well let’s get you turned around, bottoms up and we can get all this over with.”

Please don’t make me do this, the voice in her head pleaded but Rachel followed his touch, rolling on her side trying to keep her knees together as she turned around, feeling them pressing into the vinyl padding as Wilson kept his hand on her shoulder.

“That’s it, now chest down on the table there.”

She felt her chest flushed with embarrassment, her backside exposed to the air, knees together and slightly hunched, her body trying to stay hidden as long as possible but Wilson’s hand was guiding her shoulders down, then gentle on the small of her back.

“Now your knees apart Rachel, nothing to be ashamed of, we’ll get through soon enough.”

She struggled, her heart squeezing with the same feeling of dread the dream had brought, her back still hunched, trying to keep her buttocks closed but she felt his hand again, touching her calf, encouraging her leg to move closer to the side of the table and she felt herself following the touch, her inner thighs opening.

“Wide apart.”

Rachel thought about the dream, the hair on her arms rising, adjusting her knees further and further apart, thinking about how Wilson could see between her thighs now, thin legs, smooth pale skin rising to the small curves of her bottom, inner thighs curving towards that dark, dark hair, the thick private curls over her pubis, normally hidden in her underwear, following that soft flesh up, over the thick plump lips of her labia, normally pressed closed, now feeling flushed and exposed, aching as badly as when she made out with Tommy for hours, letting him get to second base.

“Just relax your back Rachel, we want your bottom up high and your stomach hanging down so the water can get in there where it needs to go.”

She felt her cheeks hot, the dread crawling over the back of her arms, her palms damp as she tilted her hips up, feeling his hand against her back, feeling his eyes on her, the lights of the room suddenly bright and the sounds of people bustling in the hallway outside making it worse. She felt her hips tilt, knew that black hair, curling over her privates faded away, the flushed skin of her cleft darkening to the soft almond that highlighted her anus, the small dimple in the center of tight radiating lines. She felt so exposed, as if someone could just walk in and see her on the table like this, naked, lifting her privates in the air for this man, her mouth dry and her blood hot.

“This is a little cold Rachel, but we’ll get things slippery and ready for the nozzle.”

She felt his big hand on her hip, warm through the latex, resting on the curve of her bottom, his thumb as a soft stroke and she tried not to think about what he was looking at, at what he was seeing, her back curved, her knees so far apart, the heat of the dream pulsing in her ears as she almost shuddered, the sudden cold, wet feeling of something touching her anus, the sensation like a spark that took her breath away. She felt her muscles contract even as his finger, thick and wet with the lubricant pressed gently against her, tingling, cold and hot with the feeling of a man touching that place, that soft sensitive skin, that secret tight opening.

“Don’t tense honey, just relax.” His finger worked slick slow circles around the rise and dimple of her anus, circling it, sliding past that thin, small stretch of skin separating it from her other place, the empty ache responding to his touch even as her cheeks flushed and she closed her eyes.

“Just relax.” His voice was a low steady rumble and his finger was gentle, leaving a wet cool feeling behind as he took it away for a moment, returning with more of the thick jelly, circling before resting in the center.

“Breath in and out for me Rachel, just breathe. I’m going to get things ready for the nozzle, and that means...”

Her eyes were squeezed shut, feeling her breath hitting the smooth padding of the table, her cheek against it and her ears were burning, his voice was deep, his other hand resting, his thumb gently stroking even as he asked her to breathe out, to relax her bottom, his finger there, the pressure gentle, the feeling of slippery warmth growing as she tried not to move, thighs quivering as she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time, a secret feeling, a deep secret pleasure as Wilson’s big finger pushed, slippery, firm and she felt that tight ring start to open, that slow electric heat as that thick finger started to move, the delicious stretch, the quivering tension of her anus starting to open, trying to relax, her heart thudding as she tried to listen to him, tried to let him in and she felt her breath catch in a flood of sensation as the sliding, slippery stretch grew, the warmth and firmness of his big finger focusing those feelings right there and then her breath rushed out as the feeling suddenly grew bigger, surging between her legs as his long stiff finger sank into her.

“It means gettin’ it slippery for you huh. Ready and relaxed for the nozzle.” He talked softly, his finger moving, sliding, twisting, the sensation of something firm penetrating her, moving in and out just a little, the ring of her anus tight around his finger. The sensation took her breath, her face hot with embarrassment even as his finger slid out again, leaving her upturned bottom glistening, her ring pulling tight with a surge of pleasure.

“Now like I said Rachel, I like to get it in there quick to start, then’ll take a break to let it work in, get’n deep.”

His left hand patted her bottom, resting there again, the soft stroke of his thumb over her skin as he moved the nozzle closer, her anus pulling tight against the sudden touch of the wet plastic. Oh God it was time. A drop of warm water slid down her inner thigh and she felt the nozzle. It was warm, smooth and hard and he didn’t wait, gently but firmly finding the already slippery center of that dimpled ring and with steady slow pressure she felt that surge of pleasure. It was the feeling she remembered a thousand times over again, the feelings that were so secret, the memories that made her throb when she saw the red bag as a girl, the tickle and stretch that she knew came before the long slow slide, before the hot water and sickly soap, before the begging and blubbering. He was going to do it to her, here in this room and she felt it again as the warm plastic stretched her open, hard and smooth as it started to slide inside. She felt it sliding, past her opening, tickling with warm pleasure as the sensation of penetration grew. He was going to do it, she was going to get the soap. Her ears burned hot, breasts pressed against the cool vinyl, nipples like pebbles as the length of the nozzle seemed to never end, slow hard warmth deeper, stretching her, the pleasure growing into a tension she could feel through her body, suddenly inside herself, the shy little girl inside her quivering with her legs open, her bottom up in the air and a thick hard nozzle deep inside.

“There we go,” she wanted to squirm as he slowly moved the nozzle in and out an inch or two, her anus gripping the unyielding length. “Okay deep breath lil’ miss.”

She could feel every tiny movement and the nozzle shook, tiny motions, his hand on the tubing and she heard the clicking of the clamp. The nozzle seemed to buzz and she felt the hard length inside her warm, the heat growing, the smooth plastic warm then warmth and she gasped as a sudden surge of glowing liquid heat spilled into her, blossomed around the nozzle, around the sensation inside her and she remembered squirming on the bathroom floor, begging her mother as the pleasure twisted and mixed with the new feelings of that private urge.

“You’ll feel the water first.”

That urge grew rapidly, the heat swelling inside her, her anus gripping the hot plastic, tighter even as she lifted her head urgently. Her thighs tightened and she sucked in her breath.

“I know, it feels like a lot. Deep breaths for me, you’ll be feelin’ the soap soon.” His hand gave her bottom a slight squeeze even as his other hand held the tubing.

She shook her head, her anus gripping the nozzle tighter as the urge kept growing, her scalp prickling as she tried to breathe. She could feel everything, hot water pushing in, the pressure and she could feel it starting, the sick soapy feeling inside, a soapy tingle around the nozzle and starting to grow in her belly.

She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to say it but she had to, a small whine starting first, lifting her hips higher. She couldn’t say it, the idea of speaking somehow making the embarrassment worse but another whine slipped out and she felt her thighs quiver with the effort of holding the flood of heat pouring into her.

“Please.” It started small, a whisper against a sudden groan. “Please. I can’t… I… It’s too much.” She felt her face redden as she started to beg, rocking her hips slightly against the soft pressure of his hand, the nozzle wiggling inside her as the flood of heat and pressure kept growing, the urge fighting the grip her anus had on the hot nozzle.

“Just a little more and then a break.”

“I can’t.. please… I’m going to…” She felt the humiliation in her belly, prickling over her arms and legs the blushing heat somehow mixing with the intense feelings. She didn’t know how to tell him, the intensity of the private sensations pushing her mind into a place she hadn’t felt since she was a little girl, shaking, not wanting to go to the bathroom.

“You can hold it honey, just a little more.”

The sensation of heat and pressure, the feeling of her anus gripping the hard nozzle and the growing desperate feeling of need caused her to wiggle, breathing heavy, her hand twitching back as she suddenly knew she was going to have an accident right there on the table, right in front of him, gasping as her head came up, face red when suddenly the pressure eased, his hand squeezing her bottom as the clamp closed.

“There see, now we just need to get that soapy water a little deeper, get things in your tummy moving and then we’ll let the rest of the water in.”

She felt shaky, the pressure easing the desperation from imminent to inevitable, the water hot inside her and the sick soapy feeling a growing ache. She looked back at the hanging pitcher, her hands trembling as she saw the milky, soapy water rocking slightly from the movement of the tubing, the pitcher still almost full of water. Wilson was still standing next to her, a hand holding that hard tube inside her and his other hand slipped over her skin, reaching beneath her to massage her belly, something inside of her gurgling, the feeling of intensity and warmth around the nozzle sinking deeper.

“Deep breaths.” His hand was strong, gentle as it massaged her belly, “feeling a little better?”

She made herself nod, licking her lips as the pressure eased, the strange feeling of the warm nozzle penetrating her, her nudity in the center of the room causing a constant undercurrent of exposure.

“There you go, now just relax and I’ll start it slow.” His hand kept steady pressure and she felt the tubing move again, a slight pulse of renewed warmth in the nozzle and a soft swell of pressure as the warm sudsy water started to flow into her. She could feel it, but it wasn’t as intense as it had been a moment ago when he had it open all the way. She tried to breathe, tried to ignore the feeling of someone seeing her privates tilted up, the feeling of the air against that skin, that dark curly hair over those lips.

“Now after today are you gonna’ be better with your movements lil’ miss? Sit every day?”

She pressed her head into the vinyl, embarrassment crawling over her skin.

“I can’t hear an answer lil’ miss.” He was holding the nozzle and he adjusted it slightly, sliding a little deeper. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t tell him, couldn’t avoid telling him.

“Yes Sir.”

“Good girl.”

The water kept flowing, slow but steady, the warmth inside her belly growing along with the urge. The sharp intensity of the first few minutes replaced by the slow aching climb back up to the need. The dreaded feeling of the soap was growing, a slow steady glow, the soap a strange warm ache adding to the pressure and the feeling of needing to go, the sting of the soap inside making her anus clench, and worse making her sex throb with heat.

“Is it.. am I almost done?” She tried to keep her voice steady, quiet, pleading.

Wilson’s hand was warm on her back, and he was gentle as he rubbed her skin, the nozzle moving will small motions that were magnified in her mind, sliding in and out as he held it.

“Not quite lil’ miss. Bit more to go.”

“I’m really full.”

“I know honey, just let it in, try and open up really deep inside and let the water in for me.”

Rachel didn’t know how to open up inside but she could feel the water, the fullness heavy between her hips, hot and tingling in her belly, the feeling of warm fullness from her belly button to the alien pleasure of the nozzle jutting into her full rectum. The tingle of nausea, sweat on her upper lip, the heat of the soap different than the heat of the water and she could feel it below the nozzle, the warmth of those lips, swollen, that hidden little button of flesh stiff and aching.

She groaned a low groan as a cramp started inside, twisting around the fullness.

“Pant lil’ miss, try’n pant for me like a puppy.”

Rachel lifted her head, her back arched and she tried to pant, feeling the humiliation as her breath came in a rhythm, trying to hold it, trying to open up inside and somehow let the water in.

“That’s a good girl, now deep breaths, just a bit more.”

Rachel groaned again, whining, panting, her knees apart and her anus tight around the thick nozzle, every motion of her hips sliding it in and out a tiny bit as Wilson held it steady. She groaned and suddenly she heard a gurgle and almost cried in relief. The sound of water gurgling in the pitcher, the pressure as the last suds made their way down that long tube and out the smooth hot exit into her bottom. She shook, tense, holding the water.

“Can I go? Please let me go to the toilet.”

“You need to hold it in honey. I’m sure your mother taught you to hold it so it’ll do that work inside you.”

Her heart sank, thighs quivering with need, her breath catching in her throat as she almost let a whine of frustration escape. She put her head back down, breathing, trying, but the soap was so strong and she was so full.

“Please, please, please.” She let a small groan escape as a sudden cramp started in her belly and squeezed through her. Wilson’s big hand slipped around and started massaging, her stomach heavy, gurgling again as he put pressure on it.

“Just a little more Rachel, you’re doin’ so good.”

“I can’t.” She held still, trying not to move as the ache of the soap, the heat, radiated through her body, making her legs stiff, her thighs tense even as time moved slowly by. She could hear the tick of the clock, every footstep in the hallway. A person talking to a doctor. She flushed, wondering who knew what was happening just on the other side of that door. If they would look at her when she was wheeled out, knowing what Wilson had made her do.

“Scoot back honey, let’s get you over the potty.”

She could hardly move, legs shaky as he helped her scoot back a bit, lifting her head up with small panting breaths. He wouldn’t make her here. She flushed red, looking at the big hospital toilet just on the other side of the room. He wouldn’t make her here. Not like this, not on the table in the middle of the room. The image of her teacher’s dog, everyone watching, the heat of humiliation setting into her bones even as he helped her scoot back.

“Please, I can,” she felt her thighs clench as a wave went through her, gripping the nozzle, her voice was weak, “I can use the toilet. Please.”

“You think you can make it to the toilet lil’ miss?”

She nodded, she had to, her cheeks were hot.

“Bottoms up honey, hold it now and let me get this out.”

Her face burned as she lifted her hips again, the sweet feeling of the slippery nozzle, hard and long as he held it, slowly sliding it out, the feeling causing a rush of desperation and she moaned, trying so hard, feeling her anus tremble, close around the smooth tip but she couldn’t do it and a small hot stream of water slipped out, the embarrassment of it welling in her eyes, ears burning.

“I don’t think you can make it lil’ miss.” His hand was gentle on her bottom as he hung the hose, the now empty pitcher rocking slightly as she tried, tried so hard to hold it all inside.

“I can’t.. not here, please.”

“You can honey, nothin’ to be shy about, it’ll be good for you I promise.”

Rachel couldn’t do it, she couldn’t hold it, her ears radiating red heat, cheeks flushed, she wanted to beg, to plead that she be allowed to use the little girl’s room, that she have some privacy, but she felt it deep in her belly, legs apart, Wilson’s kind, dark eyes looking directly at her struggling anus, his hand, soft in those latex gloves resting on her hip, her thighs were quivering. Suddenly more hot soapy water slipped out in a tight ticklish stream and she stiffened, mortified, tightening up.

“There you go honey, can you feel it?”

She felt her insides twist and another hot stream of soapy water slipped out and her thighs shook as she lifted her hips, she couldn’t stop it this time, the hot soapy water growing from a trickle to a rush as her body forced her to let it out.

“Oh no. Oh no please.” It turned into a moan, the please coming from somewhere deep inside as a contraction started heavy inside her, the soap making her whole pelvis throb, the throbbing pressure, the full feeling that could feel so good, and now it was pressed against that closed door. That feeling of fullness, heaviness, the humiliation of Wilson’s soft words as she thought about the dream, the basement, how full of junk, how Wilson was going to see the door open.

“You’re doin’ good lil’ miss, good job.”

She could feel it opening, hot tears in her eyes, it was like everyone watching the dog, it was opening up and Wilson was watching. A flood of hot soapy relief, people just outside the door, the shame mixing with the sheer animal relief as the water poured out of her, moaning as a contraction started inside her, pushing more soapy water. The water slowed and she shook, the feeling of soap worse, deep, intense and she knew, she wanted to hide as the pressure in her rectum gave way to the slow stretch of her body betraying her, her anus starting to dilate, quivering. Please not like this. Her labia glistening with their own blush of heat and she grunted, slow and deep as she finally did what she was supposed to do, what good healthy girls did, what Wilson made her do, her bottom opening, wider, so wide, the stretch, the feeling so private, her cheeks hot as the wonderful, perfect secret feeling of going potty started, another grunt, the soapy heaviness so big, so long, the moment stretched into long perfect seconds. Wilson’s hand gentle on her arm, silent encouragement, the relief stretched into a deep aching contraction, the strain and tension giving way to that feeling of completion, a shaking groan of humiliating satisfaction.

“That’s a good girl. I bet you’re feeling better already. Now I know there’s more, just let it out.”

She felt weak, crushing embarrassment rushing back into her body, her nipples tightening as the water in the basin ran, Wilson giving her upper arm a little squeeze.

“Please can I…”

“Now no back talk lil’ miss. I know there’s more. Isn’t that right?”

She colored, hot, “Yes, yes...” another contraction started her breath hitching and she grunted out a low long ‘Sir’ as she felt it again, that heavy wonderful feeling of something big and solid being pushed out with that deep satisfaction, her chest flushed with heat.

“That’s a good girl, there it is. We’re gonna get all that nasty stuff out of there.”

Her thighs tensed as more water started rushing out and she groaned again, cramps twisting in her belly and more water gurgled out into the basin. She stiffened as she felt more inside her, tears welling up again as a rush of feelings, shaking grunts and sounds as she pushed her hips back, lifting them, her body purging itself of everything she had been holding inside.

“Just cleanin’ you right out lil miss. Right out.”

She felt her her body working everything out. It seemed like it wouldn’t end, Wilson softly holding her, rubbing her belly, gentle words as she finally shook with the relief, hot tears running down her cheeks, sniffling, stifling a sob as her body tried but there was nothing left, her anus open, the heat between her legs damp, and she shuddered. Wilson gently began to clean her with a warm wet cloth, his fingers strong, firm pressure as the tears flowed, the relief washing over her, crouching down, her thighs and legs tired as she felt his other hand gently stroking her back.

She could hardly move from the end of the table, still on her knees, her body folded over them, her cheek on the padding and her arms holding her legs she watched Wilson. She was exhausted and empty, the strange tired feeling in her bottom and the empty tired feeling of her insides. It was all warm between her legs, the memory of his hands firmly holding her, cleaning her like a baby and she could still feel the pulsing of her heartbeat between those private lips. She didn’t know if she could take anymore, her body felt hot all over, the humiliation, the loss of control, the feeling of the nozzle. Wilson started rinsing the container and he opened the drawer, the one with all those nozzles, the tubes, and she felt another surge of heat. Her heart started beating faster as he lifted something out. Something for her.

“Now lil’ miss, time for some deep rinses.”

She felt heat rushing back into her privates as he turned, holding a thick red rubber tube, thicker than the nozzle, a flexible rubber snake sagging in his hands, one end rounded with extra holes around the sides and she felt herself quivering, her stomach filling again with butterflies as she realized it was longer than her arm. The heat between her legs surged. This was going to be a long morning.