by Tom

I had wanted to be an actor for as long as I could remember, right from the stage when mom would help me up on to a chair so that I could declaim some nursery rhyme or other. My parents didn't understand why on earth I would want that sort of career but, bless them, they went along with it.

Mom paid for me to go to a local establishment that described itself as a stage school and I spent every Saturday there from about the age of eight. The ladies who ran it were more concerned with dancing than with acting and as time went by all of the other boys dropped out, leaving me as the only pubescent male, surrounded by girls who imagined themselves as spangle clad dancers.

That got me a lot of bad mouthing from boys my own age. Mainly they called me gay, but that was only if they were feeling kind. The rest of the time they used words like "Homo" and "queer" that sent me back home in tears. Mom did her best to comfort me and I think she secretly hoped that I would give up my ambitions, but I just couldn't. I just had to be an actor - nothing else would satisfy the drive inside of me.

Then, when I was twelve, I got my first professional engagement. Actually, it was a pretty feeble one - I modeled boys clothes for a catalogue. And that landed me in so much trouble when the thing was actually produced - with half a dozen pictures of me wearing briefs or boxers in it. I almost gave up under the mockery when some stupid mother recognized me and showed the picture to her son - a so-called friend of mine. Until they all got sick of it I just cringed every time I saw one of the pictures stuck on a wall or notice board in the school.

High school was better. It had a proper drama course and I gradually worked my way up from third spear-carrier to my finest hour when I died a noble death as Banquo in the Scottish play (it's unlucky to say or write its name - you know the one I mean).

The other thing it had was a teacher of awesome talent, at least to my teenage eyes. He did his best to dissuade me from acting and I did waver when he told me that he had become a teacher because he just could not earn enough money to survive as an actor. Once he saw that my mind was made up, he did help a lot, particularly with introductions to colleges which had good drama departments. He was also the first guy I ever met that I knew was gay - he didn't exactly flash it around and he never once propositioned me, but he was gay all right - with a male partner!

Well, eventually I made it to college. No scholarships for budding actors of course and the sudden realization by mom and dad that the amount they had put aside for my college education hadn't quite grown as fast as the guy who sold them the investments had predicted meant that things were pretty tight. I could survive, but luxuries were out.

One source of supplementary funds was the jobs advertised on the notice board of the drama school. Mainly they were for things like waiters at functions with the occasional modeling job, but I just happened to be passing when a new card was pinned up. It was brief - students wanted to take part in an instructional video - but the fee offered was stupendous - five hundred bucks per day! I detached the card and put it in my pocket - another one would eventually appear (the advertisers knew all about students), but it gave me a head start.

I cut lessons and headed straight for the agency whose name was on the card. The rule was simple - you didn't waste time calling because the first to be seen had the best chance of getting the job.

The usual dragon woman staffed the office. I laid the card on her desk and tried to look cute. She glared at me over her glasses.

"Any experience?"

Rule two was to lie.

"Yes ma'am."

She sniffed, not even giving my lie the courtesy of further enquiry.

"Any health problems? Any scars, birthmarks or other blemishes?"

"No, ma'am. Does it matter?"

She leaned back in her chair and scowled at me, then read from a sheet of paper.

"We are casting for a series of instructional videotapes to be used in nursing schools. They will demonstrate common medical procedures. You interested?"

I didn't like the sound of that.

"What sort of procedures?"

"Hanged if I know. I just do the casting. You want the work or not?"

I thought briefly about it. I had a sinking feeling that it was going to involve getting shots. On the other hand they were offering five hundred bucks, and I sure needed the money.

"I'll take it, ma'am."

She filled out an employment card for me and handed it over.

"Next Monday at that address. You don't show - you don't work for me again. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am. Thank you."

The address was that of a prominent studio, and that went a long way to quelling my feelings of unease. On the morning of the shooting I took a bath and shaved twice, then presented myself at the front desk and handed over the card.

"Studio four. Second floor."

I must admit that I was apprehensive as I sidled in to the studio. It was amazing - there was a set consisting of a hospital bed surrounded by flats that looked just like the walls in every public institution and a large array of cameras and lights. Two girls in nurse's uniforms were drinking coffee in one corner and the producer was going nuts in the center of the room. I waited until he saw me then handed over the card.

"Thank god for that - we're all waiting for you. See the doctor."

I was totally confused. I looked around in search of anyone who looked remotely like an MD, then the nurses got up and walked over to me.

"Behind the screens."

They marched me over to a dim corner of the room. I looked them over - they seemed too pretty and too young to be real nurses.

"Are you actors? Or for real?"

"We're proper nurses of course. Come on - the doctor wants to get back to the hospital."

To describe the doctor as laconic would have done an injustice to a corpse. He produced a torch and tongue depressor and examined my ears, eyes and throat.

"Strip."

I removed my clothes and he went though the rest of the ritual. He sure poked my stomach hard and he paid what seemed like a little too much attention to my genitals. Then my heart sank as he pulled on a rubber glove and smeared some gel over one finger. He pointed to a chair.

"Bend."

I kept the vision of a stack of dollar bills at the front of my mind as I underwent the ultimate humiliation of an anal examination. It continued for what seemed like hours, his finger pushing and twisting as it skewered me and reduced me almost to tears of misery. Finally he pulled it out, reached for my card and signed it with some sort of hieroglyphic. His last act was to throw me a hospital gown.

"Costume."

Then he simply marched out of the studio, leaving me confused and apprehensive. If that was the physical...

I pulled on my shorts and then donned the gown. The producer was screaming again.

"Get on stage! Time is money!"

I was really regretting this. I slid out from behind the screen to find that the bed was in the center of intense lights, the two nurses standing by and a steel cart was parked ready for use, looking as sinister as those things always did.

"SOCKS!"

I looked around in confusion as he screamed at me. One of the nurses scampered over.

"Take your socks off. You're supposed to be a patient."

I felt stupid and pulled them off. Then she grinned at me.

"Better get your shorts off now or he'll yell at you again."

I wasn't exactly shy - dressing rooms are communal affairs and usually unisex, but up until now everyone had been scrambling in and out of clothes together. It was different when I was the only one, but I gritted my teeth and shed the shorts - hell, some day I might star in a production where I had to be naked in front of an entire theatre.

"Get him into bed and let's get the show on the road."

At least I could cover myself with the sheets, crisp, white and brand new. Then the clapper guy marched in front of the cameras and did his stuff.

"Scene fifteen, take one. Low volume enema."

"CUT!"

The producer's voice rang through the studio, freezing me halfway back to the safety of the screens and my clothes. I quailed as he marched up to me - he seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

"I'm not having an enema. No way!"

I could have stood up to him if he had kept on screaming. Instead he just sneered at me.

"I said we should have got a pro. Go away, boy - and find a new career."

I felt ashamed of myself. He was right, of course. An actor doesn't own his body once he goes on stage, he's just playing a role. The other thing was that if I did walk out, I would have to find another career - acting is a small world and the word would soon go round that Andrew Merchant was temperamental and unreliable. I had gotten myself into this and the only way out was to fulfil my contract, although I made a mental note never to trust an agent again - that woman must have known and she had conned me! I walked back to the bed with leaden feet and slid back between the sheets.

"Scene fifteen, Take two."

I felt the sheets being pulled back.

"Roll on to your side please."

I obeyed the nurse, trying not to show how embarrassed I was.

"Draw your knees up to your chest."

This was agony, but I had to do it. I felt the gown being pulled up, then I jumped as something round and hard was pushed into my asshole.

"CUT!"

It was the turn of the nurses to get a tongue-lashing.

"I can't film through you! It's his ass we want to see, not yours! Let's get the angles right. And do it SLOW - everything looks faster on the screen."

I gave up. I just lay there and moved around like I was told while the producer sorted out positions and camera angles. There is a point where you just can't get any more humiliated, and I had reached it. Finally he was satisfied and I resumed my position under the sheets.

"Scene Fifteen. Take three."

It went better that time. I rolled, curled and somehow managed not to yell as the tube pushed its way up my asshole again. Then I lost it again as a jet of cold liquid shot into my ass.

"Yeeow!"

"CUT! What the fuck is wrong now? This is supposed to be all sweetness and light, not Torquemada revisited!"

"I'm sorry - I just didn't expect it."

"We're filming an enema and you didn't expect it? What kind of idiot are you?"

I chanced a glance towards the studio - the nurses were creased with laughter. Then one of them controlled herself and spoke to me.

"It's all right - we took the stuff out and replaced it with plain water."

I glowered at her. She was right, though - I didn't really feel I needed to take a shit. Maybe I should be grateful for small mercies.

"Scene Fifteen. Take Four."

It seemed to be going fine this time - until the nurse collapsed in hysterics at the very moment she was inserting the nozzle. I yelped for real as cold water squirted over my butt and cascaded on to the bed - and the producer went ballistic.

"You dumb cluck! I would die in agony before I went into any hospital that you worked in! How long to clear this up?"

Mutterings from behind him sounded doubtful. I got out of bed and saw that the nurse was in tears - I tried to comfort her.

"Don't let him get to you. Producers are all like that."

"Take a break. Back in thirty."

I breathed a sigh of relief as someone handed me a robe and a dry gown. Both nurses were snuffling now. I sighed.

"Look - I need the bathroom, then why don't we have a coffee. If we stay here he'll only yell at us."

The one thing all studios have in common is a place to eat and drink. I located a bathroom and got rid of the liquid and what solids remained inside of me, then rejoined the girls and led them towards the coffee. They were still miserable and arguing between themselves. Finally the one who had made the mess stormed out in floods of tears, leaving only the other one.

"Will she be back?"

The nurse shrugged.

"I don't think so. She's really got the hump about getting yelled at - she didn't want to come anyway."

"Why not? They pay well."

She frowned.

"They didn't say anything about payment. Just that we had to come and demonstrate."

I was shocked. In my world, you did nothing for free.

"The mean bastards. I'm getting five hundred a day."

Her eyes widened.

"That much? That's not fair!"

I smiled. Revenge was on the menu.

"You've got them over a barrel - they haven't got anything they can use so far. All you need to do is to tell the producer that you want a fee and that you'll leave if you don't get one. He has to pay for the studio and the crew anyway, so if you go he's in trouble."

"I'm scared of him. He'll yell at me again."

"Then yell back. He can't win unless you let him."

She looked straight at me and I saw her face set in an expression of determination. I followed behind as she marched back to the studio.

"Mr. Producer."

"What the fuck do you want?"

I held my breath.

"Money. What about my fee?"

"The hospital said they were paying you."

"Just my normal salary. I want the same as this guy is getting, otherwise I walk."

"Why don't you do that? You're not the only nurse in the world."

"I'm the only one here. My colleague has already left once she realized you weren't paying."

He opened his mouth in preparation for a bellow of rage.

"If you shout at me, I'm leaving anyway."

The producer glared at her, then at me.

"Okay. Five hundred."

My respect for the girl grew. She looked at him with her head on one side.

"Now. I don't trust you."

It was just as well she wasn't in the business. She would never have worked again. I watched the emotions pass over his face. Finally he amazed me by grinning at her.

"Okay. It's a deal. Solly - write her a check. And you might as well give the stool pigeon his at the same time."

In a few minutes we were back on our way to the canteen, each of us clutching a check for five hundred bucks. I had expected to get mine at the end of the day anyway, but she was absolutely hyper with excitement. She grabbed my check and stuffed it in one of her pockets.

"I'll look after this for you. I owe you, and I don't even know your name."

"Andrew."

"I'm Sam, and I'm grateful."

She planted a kiss on my cheek and we returned to our coffee. Sam looked curious.

"How can you do something like this? I couldn't just let anybody point a camera at me when I took an enema."

I grinned sheepishly.

"It's not all that easy. Money helps."

I gazed into her eyes. They were blue and bottomless. She really was attractive. And not much older than me. And we were pretty intimate already!

By the time we were summoned back for the next take, I was in love. I no longer cared about the fact that I was on a stage. Just that the most gorgeous girl in the world was doing something incredibly intimate to me.

The result was immediate and horrifying. As soon as the nozzle slid inside of me I got an immense erection.

"CUT! Can't you keep still? The cameraman can't focus with you leaping all over the bed."

I was trapped. They all expected me to get back into position for the start of another take, but being naked was one thing while an enormous boner was another. I lay immobile for a few moments, then hissed to Sam.

"Hand me the robe."

"Huh? What's the problem?"

"Tell them I need to go to the bathroom."

"Why? Did I hurt you?"

"Just the opposite. I've got something I don't want to show!"

She looked puzzled for a moment, then her mouth formed an O before she giggled.

"Okay. Is this a compliment?"

"Just give me the frigging robe, will you?"

"Say please."

I resisted the urge to strangle her and wipe the grin off her face.

"Please. Pretty please."

She handed me the robe and I managed to get into it without revealing my excited state to the crew.

"Andrew needs a bathroom break."

That got a laugh - but I didn't mind it so much. In the bathroom I frantically jerked myself to a state of numb flaccidity before I returned to find that some sort of union rule meant that everyone had gone to lunch.

At least that meant I could put my clothes on. I sat opposite Sam and dreamed my daydreams. College had been a disappointment in the humping department - the girls on my course were all too much in love with themselves to indulge in anything as mundane as screwing - unless it was to their advantage. She chewed reflectively on a burger, then gave me a funny look.

"How do you get a job like this? I mean, do they advertise for someone to bare his butt for the camera?"

"Not exactly. I didn't really know what I was getting into until I arrived in the studio."

She laughed.

"I bet it came as a pretty nasty surprise!"

I was curious too.

"I suppose you do this sort of thing every day?"

She pulled a face.

"It's mainly with old ladies who have advanced cases of hemorrhoids and who smell of mothballs. I wouldn't mind is it was dishy guys like you."

"Am I dishy then?"

"Well - your butt is. I don't know about the rest of you. The male patients are usually lecherous gropers and butt pinchers."

I was shocked.

"What do you do about them?"

She shrugged.

"Just keep out of reach as far as possible. And wear a couple of thick pairs of winter-weight panties if I have to get close."

"You should slap their faces - or call the cops."

She gave me a weary smile.

"They're sick people. You just have to put up with it."

Then it was back to the studio, to the impossible producer and to an interminable series of takes. Finally he pronounced himself satisfied.

"Well done, people. Nice quick job. And a round of applause for the victim - twenty three enemas in one day must be a world record!"

"Hey - he should have paid you, not the other way around!"

I turned to see several of the crew laughing. Thing was, they weren't laughing at me.

The producer joined in, then looked at his clipboard.

"We don't need you two tomorrow. Bright and early on Wednesday please."

"Huh? Another day?"

"Sure. You've got a real photogenic asshole."

That produced mixed feelings. It sounded like more of the same, and my asshole was pretty sore. On the other hand, the money was good - and I would get to see Sam again.

I dressed behind the screen and them limped out of the studio. To my surprise Sam was waiting for me.

"You want a ride home? Or have you got a car?"

I accepted the ride with gratitude - at least it would get me to a tub of hot water fast. Sam drove in silence until I winced when she went over one of those speed bumps.

"Sore, huh?"

"Yeah. The things you have to do for art!"

That set us both giggling. I lived in a small apartment quite a way from the college - it was quite a trek each day but the place was real cheap. Sam dropped me at the door and then waved as she drove away.

Hot water never felt so good. I lay back in the tub with my legs over the sides and just let it lap against the sore area, then gingerly cleaned around my asshole with a sponge. I was just on the point of falling asleep when I remembered my check - it was still in the pocket of Sam's dress! Suppose she had forgotten and was washing it already? I started to panic at the vision of the precious piece of paper being reduced to unreadable pulp by the combination of hot water and detergent.

I jumped out of the bath and wrapped myself in a robe. Hell - I didn't know where she lived! I grabbed the phone book and called the hospital.

"Do you have a nurse there called Sam?"

"Sam? Chinese is she?"

"No. That's her first name. She's in her early twenties with blue eyes and fair hair. She drives a small red Nissan."

There was a long silence.

"This is a hospital, not a dating agency, young man."

Then the click of disconnection and a surge of sheer panic. It was probably too late anyway - and those bastards probably wouldn't replace the check. Five hundred down the drain - literally!

I heated some soup and drank it without tasting. Then I heard someone tapping on the door. Could it be?

I jumped up and opened it. Sam stood with a grin on her face, waving a piece of paper.

"Forgot something?"

I almost fainted with relief. Sam still stood in the doorway.

"Aren't you going to ask me in?"

"Oh... sure... come in."

She looked different. She was wearing ordinary clothes - just a shirt and jeans - she didn't look like a nurse at all, just a very pretty girl. She was carrying a large paper bag - it looked like she had been shopping. I closed the door as she sat down. She grinned at me.

"I thought I might take you out somewhere to eat. I owe you for my pay today."

I was tempted, but my asshole reminded me that it was in no mood to be sat on for any length of time.

"I'd love to, but there aren't many places where you can eat lying on your front."

She laughed out loud.

"That bad, huh? I thought it might be, so I called at a drugstore on the way."

She reached into the bag and brought out a slim box.

"What have you got there? Advil?"

She grinned.

"Better than that. Preparation H. It's made specially for people with your sort of problem."

"People who get too many enemas?"

"No, stupid - it's for hemorrhoids, but it will take the soreness away."

I watched her as she bit into the plastic wrapper and opened the pack. Then I groaned when she pulled out a shaped white cylinder and I realized how the stuff was applied.

"Aw, Sam, no. I've had everything except the kitchen sink pushed up there today."

"Don't argue. Loosen your robe and bend over the chair."

I suddenly realized that I had an unsuspected erogenous zone when my anus started to transmit distinctly stimulating signals to the rest of me. And that was just from thinking about it! Then I had the problem of another erection tenting the front of my robe. I didn't want Sam to start thinking wrong things about me.

"No thanks. I'm just fine."

I didn't know if they ran special classes for nurses in how to relieve recalcitrant patients of their clothing. I was prepared to believe it when Sam whipped the robe from me before I even saw her arms move. She looked calmly at my boner.

"Well - there's a pretty sight. Now let's deal with the other end first."

I did as I was told and bent over the chair. Something cold and greasy slid into my anus and started to melt.

"How's that?"

I twitched my asshole experimentally.

"Better."

"Now can we go and eat? Or shall I call and order pizza?"

I sighed with relief.

"Pizza please. No anchovies."

It arrived and I wolfed down more than my share - I was suddenly ravenous. Sam burped, then went back to the paper bag.

"Where's your closet? I suppose you have a spare hanger or two?"

"What? Yes. Why?"

I blinked as she pulled out a nursing uniform.

"I don't want this to get creased. My boss goes ape if she sees a mussed uniform."

My brain seemed to be full of molasses as I tried to make sense of the situation.

"Sam, when do you have to be at work?"

"Eight o'clock."

"You're late already - it's half past."

"Eight A.M., stupid."

"Oh."

Suddenly she looked worried.

"You're not gay are you? Or is there someone else?"

"NO! No to both. I was just surprised."

Sam smiled.

"That's all right then. Now where's that closet?"

I pointed bemusedly at the bedroom. She darted into it, then returned and started to lead me by the hand. I staggered and knocked the paper bag to the floor. Sam hastily picked it up again, but not before I saw what it contained. An enema bag. The sort you found in drugstores.

"Aw, Sam, you're not aiming to give me another enema? I don't think I could stand it."

Then I saw that she was blushing furiously.

"What's wrong, Sam? What have I done?"

She sat down on the couch and looked really embarrassed.

"It was just a stupid idea that I had. Forget it."

"What was it? Tell me."

"I just thought that maybe I should let you get your own back for what I did to you."

"How's that?"

"Well... I gave you those enemas, so I thought..."

"You thought I should give you one?"

I looked at her, but she couldn't meet my eyes.

"That's bullshit, Sam. Tell me the truth."

She looked like she was going to burst into tears. I sat beside her and wrapped my arms round her.

"Tell me, Sam."

"Well... When I started nursing and I had to give enemas to patients, I was real curious. I never had one as a kid, and I just couldn't imagine what it was like."

"How did you learn? Didn't you practice on each other?"

She giggled.

"That would have been something, but no - they have plastic models that you use. They're not very good and they don't yell if you hurt them."

"Oh. So that's why they're making the video, is it?"

"I suppose so. Anyway, I got more and more inquisitive and in the end I bought an enema bag so that I could try one out for myself..."

She stopped. Her face was beetroot red and she couldn't look at me any more. It suddenly clicked.

"And you enjoyed it?"

She nodded.

"I saw that you did too, so I reckoned that you would understand. And then I wondered if you would think that I was some sort of weirdo. Do you?"

"Think you're weird? No. I think you're maybe pretty uninhibited - I never met a girl who just invited herself to spend the night before - but not weird."

She laughed at that.

"Well - boys are just the opposite. You can see what they want, but they mainly don't even suggest it, so I decided that it was easier if I propositioned them. It saves a lot of frustration on both sides. I mean, I could see you wanted to go to bed with me, but you didn't say a word."

"But you didn't say about the enema."

She blushed again.

"That's different. No guy objects to making love, but most of them have a thing about their excretory functions. You know what I mean."

I had to agree. When I was at home, I didn't even like my mom handling my undershorts in case they were stained. Then I saw the way she was looking - kinda like a cute little puppy that had been kicked. I grinned at her.

"So - shall we get on with your enema?"

She was all professional again as she filled the bag with warm water and then made me find some tape to hang it from the shower rail. She didn't seem to be bashful about nudity - she just stripped to the buff while I leaned weakly against the wall and concentrated on keeping my knees from buckling.

Then she knelt down on the floor with her butt sticking up in the air. Jeez - what a sight!

"Come on, Andrew, before I die of frustration."

I knew enough to grease the nozzle before I gingerly slid it into her asshole. Her reaction amazed me.

"Oh god - it's so different. Did you feel like this?"

I ignored the unanswerable question and fiddled with the clip on the tube. Then she moaned in what sounded like sheer ecstasy as the water ran in - I felt kinda jealous, because no girl had ever reacted like that with me. I also felt a surge of tenderness towards Sam - nobody had ever trusted me like this before.

I even stayed and held her hands while she got rid of the water - and a great deal else. Then we retired to bed and made the most passionate love that I had ever experienced.

Morning came. I stirred and looked at the clock.

"SAM! It's half past seven!"

She groaned, then staggered towards the phone.

"I'm sorry - it's pretty bad. Must be something I ate - I've hardly left the bathroom. No - I think I'll be fine by tomorrow."

She put the phone down and grinned at me.

"I'm hungry. You got any food?"

As she put on her jeans, a small sheet of paper fell from the pocket. I picked it up and read it.

"This is about the studio. What's a inflatable nozzle?"

She kissed me.

"You'll just have to wait until Thursday to find that out...."

The End