My step dad is probably the best thing that ever happened to my Mom. And to me, for that matter. I was born illegitimate when my mom was 13, and my early years were spent in my grandparents' home. When I was five, I think, Mom met Steve, and they were soon married, and Mom and I moved to Steve's house. It was my option to call Steve by his name, but it wasn't long before I called him Dad, because I really came to love him as a father. Dad was firm but fair in my upbringing, and I respected him for it, and I guess our life, other than during my early years, was what most would consider normal. I wasn't spoiled; I don't think so, anyway.

For Mom's thirtieth birthday, Dad arranged a dream vacation for the two of them: The honeymoon they never had. They were to do a leisurely tour in Europe, for six weeks. My folks couldn't afford to bring me along, but they felt I was still a bit young, at eighteen, to fend for myself during the month and a half they'd be gone. Needless to say, I was a bit miffed at having to have a "baby sitter" but I held my tongue. They deserved their trip. Dad arranged for his younger sister, Martha, to come stay with me. I had only met her once, at Mom and Dad's wedding, and my memory of Martha was quite vague.

It turned out that Martha was to arrive at the airport an hour after Mom and Dad's flight was to leave, so I just hung around and waited at the arrival gate for her flight. She knew what I looked like, as Dad had sent her a picture of me over the e-mail, but I had no idea what Martha looked like. I held a placard with "Martha Powers" on it, when the passengers on Martha's flight began deplaning. I had envisioned a female version of Dad, but was pleasantly surprised when I was approached.

"Kyle?" I heard my name pronounced by a husky voice, which emanated from a beautiful creature that stood in front of me. "Um.... Aunt Martha?" I stammered. She nodded, smiling, almost laughing, as she took me in. "Call me Marty." Marty stood about five-foot eight in her low heels. She wore a well-tailored pantsuit, which accentuated her gorgeous physique. She had a peaches-and-cream complexion and her hair was a shimmering auburn, cut in a pageboy style. A bare minimum of make-up confirmed that she was a lot younger than I had pictured her. She carried a purse and a shoulder bag. "Can I take your bag, Aunt...er... I mean, Marty?" Marty laughed and handed me her shoulder bag. "Thank you, sir." she said, as we turned and headed for the luggage claim area.

Once we were on the road, in Mom's station wagon, Marty asked: "Hungry?" It was six in the evening. "Um, yeah... I haven't eaten since breakfast." I replied. "Why don't we stop and pick up a pizza?" "Sounds good to me."It was about twenty miles from the airport to our neighborhood, so we chatted as I drove. It turned out that Marty was only twenty-two, and had just the day before received her degree in nursing. She had decided to stay in school and go on for a medical degree, but was going to enjoy a summer's rest before hitting the books again. I was to begin my senior year in high school that coming fall and had been held back in Third grade due to missing the whole year with medical issues.

The fact that she was in the medical field gave us some common ground, as medicine was to be my chosen field upon graduation. We also discovered that we both liked hiking and cycling. Marty was an avid photographer, and we discussed the possibility of taking a couple of biking trips to the country. "That shouldn't be a problem," I said, "I'm sure Mom won't mind you using her bike."

"Actually," Marty replied, "I'm thinking about buying a new one for myself. The one I left in Omaha is an old 'el cheapo' and I'd like to get a nice bike." "There's a great bike shop near the house." I said. "We'll see." she answered.

We stopped by the neighborhood take-out pizza kitchen and got a couple of small pizzas for dinner. Then we finally got to the house. We sat in the kitchen and ate before the food got cold, chatting about school and bicycling. I told Marty of my folks' instructions: she had a choice of staying in our spare bedroom or in the master bedroom, as Mom and Dad wouldn't be there. Marty toured both rooms, and for reasons unknown to me, chose the spare bedroom. She said she'd 'be lost in the big bed', but I thought that was a silly reason. But the fact that she chose the spare bedroom meant that she and I would share the only upstairs bathroom, unless she wanted to walk downstairs, where the master suite was. I sat down to watch a movie while she went upstairs to settle in. After a bit, Marty came back down wearing a long caftan and a pair of fuzzy slippers.

"What'cha watchin'?" she asked. "One of them old '50's sci-fi movies." "Jeez!" she said, "Those are so funny, compared to the newer ones, aren't they?" "Yeah," I said, "the special effects weren't what they are now." We sat and laughed, watching giant ants devouring people. Finally the movie was over and it was time to go to bed. We both went upstairs, and I went to the bathroom for my nightly routine. I took a shower and shaved the little bit of fuzz I had on my face. Then I sat on the commode to take my daily dump. Well, the dump wasn't forthcoming, and I sat there for quite a while, trying to produce something, but I failed. While sitting there, I noticed a strange contraption hanging from the hook on the linen closet's door. It looked like a hot water bottle, but it had a hose attached, and a hard plastic tip at the end of the hose. I had never seen anything like that before, and wondered what it was used for, but I assumed it belonged to Marty, since it wasn't mine, and I had never seen it before. I gave up on my efforts and decided to go to bed. As I walked out towards my bedroom, I saw that Marty's door was open, and she was lying on the bed, still wearing the robe she had worn earlier. She was reading a book on anatomy. As I walked by, she looked up. "You were sure in there a long time." I blushed. "Sorry." I said. "You OK?" she asked. "Um... yeah... I'm fine." "Ok..." she said, "Good night." "G'nite."

I awoke early the next morning, to hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. I had my usual morning bladder call, so I went downstairs to use the washroom that was off the entry hall. Once again I tried to empty my bowel, but the effort was in vain. And it occurred to me that it had been over two days since I had had a healthy shit. Once again, I gave up, and began the climb back upstairs to get dressed. I ran into Marty as she came down. "Good morning!" she said cheerily."Hi." I replied. "Ready for some breakfast?" she asked. "Um... I'm not really hungry." I replied. "Maybe later, I'll get a bowl of cereal or something." Marty gave me a critical eye. "Something isn't right, here." she said. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "Nothing," I stammered, "Really." But I could feel the blood rushing to my face. She looked at me for a moment. "Come with me, Kyle." she said, finally, "Let's talk." We sat on the couch and she faced me.

"Look... I know you probably don't feel comfortable with having to have someone supervise you while Steve and your Mom are gone. I understand that, and I really don't blame you." She added: "But the sad fact is that you have been placed under my care, and I intend to carry out the responsibility to the best of my ability." She paused for a moment, then continued: "I would hope that you and I can carry out a relationship of friends, rather than that of a teenager and governess, and I don't intend to impose my authority over you unless you force me to. Can you understand that?" I nodded. She was right, of course. Finally, Marty said: "Two days ago I received a diploma that qualifies me as a nurse. I know I'm a good nurse. If there's a problem with your health, I need to know about it as soon as possible, so things won't get worse before anything's done." she looked at me, pausing, then: "You understand?" I nodded. "You're right.... I'm sorry." I said, eyes downcast. Marty gave me a gentle smile, then got serious again. "Now, will you please tell me what's wrong?" I blushed again. "Um... I haven't been able to... um..." I stammered. "Have a bowel movement?" Marty interrupted. "Um... yeah... that's it." "For how long? When was the last time you had a good one?" she asked. "Wednesday night, I think." "And this is Sunday?" She said, shaking her head.

"We need to do something about that as soon as possible." Then she asked: "Have you taken anything?" "I was going to take an Ex-Lax today." I said. "Kind of late for that, now." said Marty. "Get dressed. I need you to drive me to the nearest drug store." We both went back upstairs and got dressed.

I eschewed Mom's station wagon, and got the keys to Dad's Mustang. It was a sunny day and I put the top down. I was just getting done when Marty came out and got in. Then, we were on our way to the drug store. As I drove, Marty asked me: "Do you have an enema bag?" "Enema... you mean like the little rubber light bulb?" "When was the last time you had an enema?" she asked. "I can't remember... when I was a little kid, I guess." I answered, "You're not..." "Yes I am..." Marty interrupted, "It's the most effective way to solve your problem." "C'mon, Marty!" I pleaded, "that's so..." "So what?" she said, "Uncomfortable? Embarrassing? You're right, if it isn't done properly. But I'll prove to you that it doesn't have to be that way. You may even enjoy it." "But..." "No 'buts'..." she said, "We have to get that stuff out that's stuck inside you, and an enema is the best way." We were both remained silent the rest of the way to the drug store. When we got there, Marty headed straight for the feminine hygiene area and picked out a box which read: 'Combination douche and enema kit.' then she went around to the stomach area and picked up a jar of glycerin suppositories. We took these two items to the cashier, who smirked when she saw what we were purchasing. We got back into the car and Marty ordered: "Home, James." and chuckled. Once home, I was ordered back to my room, and to put my pajamas back on, and to wait. I did so, and after a few minutes, Marty came in with the suppositories, and some rubber gloves.

"What are those?" I asked" They're suppositories... like pills, except you don't swallow them." "You mean I just suck on them?" Marty laughed. "What's funny?" I asked. "You really don't know what suppositories are?" "I wouldn't have asked, if I'd known." Marty got serious again. "I'm sorry I laughed." she said, "I thought you were joking." Then she explained: "Suppositories are medicines that are taken rectally." "You mean up my..." "Yup!" "So how do I..." "You just relax. I'll put it in for you." Marty said in a soothing tone. "I wasn't any too happy about this, but Marty had a reassuring manner about her, and I really didn't want to argue with her anyway. "I just want you to lie on your stomach but first I want you to push your pajamas down to expose your bottom. If a suppository or two work, we won't have to do the enema. Deal?" "Um...OK." I lay down on my belly and, raising my bottom, I slipped my pajama bottoms down to my knees. I turned away from Marty so she wouldn't see me blushing. I heard a snapping sound, which I would later find out was the snapping of rubber gloves being put on. Then I felt a hand on my bottom, spreading my cheeks apart. Then I felt something cool and slippery being applied around my back hole. "I want you to push, as though you were on the toilet." said Marty, softly, but with authority. I complied, and then I immediately felt her finger invading me. I was uncomfortable at the invasion, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling, as Marty's finger went slowly deeper inside of me.

She went in and out a couple of times, twisting as she went. "There," she said, "Now you're all slick inside, so the suppositories should go in easily." Once again, I felt Marty's fingers parting my cheeks, then I felt something being pushed in. She pulled her finger out then I felt the same thing again. Once again, she pulled her finger out. It was about then that I realized that I had a rock-hard boner. I was on my belly, so Marty couldn't see it, but I could sure feel it. "Maybe a couple of these suppositories will do the trick." Said Marty. "We should know within a half hour." She pulled her gloves off, then she added: "Relax and let these work. If in a while you still don't go, then we'll have to do an enema. Fair enough?" "Um...Okay." "I'll be back in a while." Marty left the room. I turned onto my back, and pulled my pajama bottoms back up. The erection I had was beginning to subside, and I thought about taking the opportunity to spank my monkey, but decided to hold off. The thought of having my butt hole manipulated again was intriguing, and though I really didn't care to go through the embarrassment, I pondered whether maybe I should give it a try. I decided to try napping for a few minutes. I didn't sleep, or at least I don't think I slept, as my mind was full of weird kinky thoughts about having my ass invaded again. I looked at the clock as Marty knocked gently on my door and then came in. "How we doing? Do you feel an urge to make a poo?" I thought about it. "Maybe a little." "Why don't you try?" She suggested. "Don't flush so I can see how you do. Okay?" I got up and made my way to the bathroom. As I sat on the commode, I noticed the jar of suppositories sitting on the vanity, beside the package that contained my new enema bag. I grunted and pushed for a bit and finally was able to produce a small turd, and it was rock-hard coming out. Nothing further wanted to follow. I tried in vain for another few minutes as I glanced at the package on the vanity, then looked at Marty's bag, which still hung on the linen closet door. I began to get hard again. Finally, I made up my mind that I was going to have the experience of my first large enema. I hadn't had one since I was a young boy. I got up and pulled my bottoms back up. I walked out of the bathroom to see Marty's door open. She sat at the desk in her room, reading a book titled: Routine Nursing Procedures. I knocked at her door and she looked up. "Well? Any luck?" "I did a little bit." I said. "Let me go see." she said. Marty got up and walked into the bathroom, then I heard the toilet flush. Then she came back out.

"Kyle, that wasn't anywhere near three days' worth. We'll have to take an enema." "Um...maybe a couple more of those sup..." "I really don't think that'll do it." She said. "Now go in your room and relax for a couple of minutes, while I get things ready." I complied, laying down again. Then I looked down at myself and noticed once again a raging hard-on. I didn't want Marty to see that but didn't know what to do about it. Next thing I knew, Marty was calling me into the bathroom. The new enema bag hung, bulging, from the shower curtain rod. There was a towel, folded twice, on the floor near the side of the bathtub, and Marty stood there, wearing rubber gloves, holding a blue and white tube of something. "Okay, Kyle, I want you to drop your pajama bottoms and kneel on the towel, bending over the edge of the bathtub." "Um...I..." "I know you're embarrassed." she said. "I know what men look like. I've seen a few, and I'll see a lot more before I die. Now let's cooperate, okay?"

I silently complied, turning my back to her, slipping my pajama trousers off, then kneeling against the side of the tub. I don't think she saw my erection. "Now rest your chest on the bathtub, and try to relax." I felt Marty's gloved hand prodding me gently. "First," she said, "I'm going to put a little bit of lubricant inside you, so the nozzle will go in easier. Ready?" "Uh-huh..." I answered. I heard a snap, then, a couple of seconds later, I felt a hand parting my cheeks. Then I felt Marty's finger rubbing something wet and slippery around my butt hole. "Now push..." I bore down and Marty's finger slid into me easily. I immediately felt my erection intensify, and at the same time, the discomfort I had expected failed to come about. Marty slid her finger in and out a few times, twisting it as she stroked. I grunted, not with pain but with the new feeling I experienced. "Did that hurt?" asked Marty, pulling her finger out. I shook my head. "Okay, Kyle. I'm going to put the nozzle in now." She said. "Uh-huh..." I replied.

The nozzle was thinner and smoother than her finger, and it went in easily. "Okay?" "Uh-huh..." Once again. "Here comes the water." said Marty. I heard a click, and a few seconds later I felt a warm feeling invading my gut. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, so a bit of the tension I had within me began to dissipate. A minute passed. Marty was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding the slender nozzle in place. I began to experience a full feeling and said so. "I'm getting full..." I uttered. "I know," she replied, "But there's still quite a bit of water to go." Just then I felt a cramp and attempted to get up. Marty's hand on my back stopped me. "Ow!!" I said, "It hurts!" I heard a click. Marty said: "Take some deep breaths and try to relax." I did, and after a bit, the cramp subsided. I slowed my breathing. "Okay?" asked Marty. I nodded silently, then heard a click, and once again I felt the pressure begin to increase. After a minute, another cramp came to me, and I began taking breaths as before. It worked. After a couple more minutes, I heard a gurgling sound, and Marty spoke. "Okay...The bag's empty." "Can I go now?" I asked. "Nope. You have to retain the water for about five minutes, to let it soften your stool." Then she added: "I'm going to leave the nozzle in to try to keep you from leaking. Okay?" "Uh-uh." I grunted. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Marty said. "Guess not." I answered, staring at the bottom of the tub.

The five minutes seemed like years, but finally Marty allowed me to get up. Holding the empty bag with one hand and the nozzle still firmly up my bottom, she guided me to the toilet. I had forgotten about the erection I had, and as I turned to get to the commode, it waved in the air, catching my step aunt's glance. She stared at it for a second, then, feigning disinterest, just turned away. "Okay..." Marty said with a professional tone, "I'll pull the nozzle out right before you sit down. Ready?" I grunted my assent, and Marty pulled the nozzle out, allowing me to sit down. I immediately began spewing noxious smelling fluid, mixed with hard clumps of shit; the rapid emptying of my insides caused me to cramp briefly, but I panted a bit, and the cramp went away, the pressure in my gut receding to comfortable levels. My erection subsided as I relaxed. Marty had walked out of the bathroom as soon as I had taken my place at the toilet. As I sat there, getting rid of what had clogged my insides, I reflected on the experience, and came to the conclusion that it hadn't been as bad as I had anticipated. In fact, there had been moments when I had experienced some oddly pleasant feelings. And the erection. Oh, God! She had seen my hard-on! What was she thinking?