This is one of my twenty stories with bottoms themes. Anyway, the stories are rather 'gentle' - I think that was the word that a friend used; I think of them as the Hallmark Channel of bottoms readings. So... thank you for trying to get through these.

Lovingly and gently, jillie

Copyright © 2016 USA -- By Jillie Ann Nellison

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Here is what had happened as Kevin eventually filled in the blanks for me. It was a quiet Saturday morning, so Kevin thought it might be a good time to start his day by mixing some hygiene with some pleasure. Eight o'clock - okay, he'd have time for that. He pulled out his supply box from under the dresser and set it on his bed, taking out some Vaseline and minty castile soap. He also pulled out a dowel rod which fit into a hole he had bored on the side of his tall bedframe, to serve as a sturdy standard for hanging his enema bag - but where was his syringe bag? Ah yes, it came to him: his remaining disposable bag had finally cracked and leaked, and he had discarded it a few weeks ago. He set all the other items from his box onto his bed - suppositories, more soaps, a squeeze-bulb enema syringe, an anal plug and dildo, even a homemade anal probe - but he found no more bag syringes. He preferred the lightweight, vinyl bags with their attached nozzle-ended tube, sold for one-time use but generally suitable for dozens of sessions before they cracked and leaked. Well, the last one had certainly given its service; it was time to buy a few more from the pharmacy. He made himself a shopping list; he might as well get a few snack items, and batteries, newspaper, this and that and the other - oh, and lots of toilet paper! With that, he went to his car and was off. Exactly where he was off to was about ten minutes away, fifteen with any traffic, because not all drugstores stocked the disposable enema bags - not at a reasonable price, anyway. Where he was going off from was directly across the open stairwell landing from my apartment, where two units shared each floor of our brick six-plex; our units were at the top, the third floor, or really the two-and-a-halfth. The early morning had been perfect, and I had been out to the gym at 6:30 sharp, right when they opened, had a little breakfast at a corner diner - not a fancied-up stainless-and-neon phony retro one but just a very old neighborhood diner, and was back to my apartment before 8:30. I had bought a news magazine I had wanted to read, so I plopped myself down on the living room couch. That's how the day began, mine and my neighbor's. We weren't really close, Kevin and I, but we occasionally did little shopping-type errands for each other and watered plants when one was gone, and we had exchanged keys in case of home emergencies. I had read most of the way through the magazine when I heard Kevin tromping up the iron stairs, carrying several bags. I rushed to our landing and asked if he needed any help. No, he said quickly - and I could see that he sort of held one bag half behind him - he was okay, thanks. "Well, I did you a favor just now, baby, ten minutes ago when I got back from the gym. Your smoke detector wasn't okay. I was right on my couch reading and thank goodness my window was open. Your smoke alarm went crazy right after I got back. I saw that your car was gone, and thank goodness I actually knew where your key was so I could unplug the thing for you. I looked around but there wasn't any fire - the alarm just was old. They get dusty inside or something; mine did that six weeks ago. You know it turns on the whole building alarm if you don't get it off in two minutes. I probably just made it. Anyway, they're replacing them next month – that's what the notice from the super said, you know." Kevin blushed. "Oh, I found some giggles, too!" Kevin turned fire-engine red and began nearly hyperventilating. "Kevin, are you okay. Gosh, let's get you indoors and onto your couch. I think your bed's kind of busy." Kevin's face began flashing like a red neon sign, and he barely made it to the couch, despite my holding his arm. "Here, baby - let me get you some water. I'll put your bags on the table for you, too. Oh TP! Lots of it! I suppose you'll be needing that!" Kevin's face tried to imitate a rocket launching, redder and hotter and hotter and redder. "Maybe I should call the doctor, or that nurse line. What happened to you? It looked like you'd been playing with some anal toy stuff - did you get dehydrated or something? Did you hurt yourself?" Kevin could not longer focus and nearly passed out. I opened his bags quickly to see if he had possibly bought some medicine he needed to take, and found only some groceries and toilet paper and a few enema bag kits. “Kevin, tell me what's wrong? I'm going to call someone.” “No, Corrie. It's...” “What, baby? What is it?” “...Stuff.” “Stuff? What stuff? What happened?” “...That...that stuff.” “Huh?” “Bed.” “Something went wrong with one of the toys?” “No. Just... the stuff.” I stared at him, confused. I went to his bedroom to see if anything looked like it could have poked him or strangled him. Then it struck me: “Omigod, Kevin – you're just embarrassed! Oh, I'm sure you feel like you could die right now, but still, that's so funny. I mean, you're in the Age of Aquarius these days, baby, and this is California. You could wear that stuff downtown and nobody would care. Mostly not even notice. I'm really, truly sorry for you, but this is still so funny. Well, now that we know each other better, sometimes ask me to show you my clips and restraints. Stand up a sec. Come on, guy – try.” I helped Kevin, still a bit weak-kneed, to stand, and I quickly unfolded his couch. “Now come here and lie down.” Kevin lay next to me and I snuggled closer to him and stroked his hair and his chest, and lightly nibbled his shoulders. “Hmm, did you think I'd move out when I saw that? And bar my door till I did, and warn the neighbors? Anuses and rectums are very sensitive and they can be very sexual. Look, whatever baggage you have about that stuff you can tell me some other time. For now, let's just focus on their more positive aspects. Hang on....” I came back with his anal plug and some Vaseline and two of his strong suppositories, and began unbuckling Kevin. He was too surprised to move or to help, so I pulled off his trousers. “Okay, you're too heavy for me to get your shorts off by myself. You've got to lift your butt.” “Corrie... I... Corrie.” “Lift, Kevy!” “Wait. Corrie...” I went to Kevin's kitchen and quickly found a heavy scissors; with two quick snips I had his underpants off. “Turn over.” “Wait, Corrie...” "It should be obvious that I'm not taking no. I'm going to make you poop out your embarrassment." I turned him over my knees and quickly had both suppositories high up his can. “There, now. Is that feeling better? Let it start to tingle and then I'll put your plug in. ” “Corrie...” “I know, Kevy. You bought those enema baggies so you obviously want an enema. I'll get to that later. Besides, maybe you can give me one before I let you poop. I'm definitely not letting you poop till you get me off, baby, and I'm still not ready to have regular sex with you, you weirdo.” He looked confused. "Kevy, I'm teasing you." “You're into enema stuff, Corrie?” “Well, not exactly – but I'm into toys. And I think I know enough about enemas and suppositories to make you shit real well with one. Just remember, Kevy, every time you have to shit I don't let you expel till you've gotten me off! It looks like you're probably pretty expert with enemas, so I'll let you give it a try on me, too. Besides, I haven't shit yet today, and I usually do by now – especially if I've been to the gym. Okay, I think it's time to put your plug in now – and don't even think about taking it out! I'll tell you if and when you can, understand.” “Yes.” “Oh, Kevin – now you've done it. I thought you knew better and you were going to be nice to me. Even if you're a confirmed loner with your toys, you know that had to be 'Yes, ma'am!' Not just 'yes.' I'm sorry, but I really do have to discipline you for that now. Wait a moment and don't move.” I was back from my place in two minutes, carrying a box. “First show me that your plug is still in... good! Good boy! Now lie back on the bed. Your cute nipples are kind of small for a clip, but I think I can manage.” I began to roll his little nipples between my thumb and finger. “No, wait, Corrie, please. Please, ma'am. They're really sensitive. Please.” “You should have thought of that before you disrespected me, Kevy. There's the good boy, the clips are on now! That did work, see?” “Owww, it hurts.” “It doesn't much. Kevin; if you complain like a baby I'm going to just leave your plug in and you'll have to just shit yourself. Do you want that?” “No, no, ma'am. Oh! Corrie, ma'am, just lie down and I'll give you that enema like we said.” “I think we are disciplining you right now, Kevin.” “No, ma'am, please. You already did that. I promise that I'll keep this stuff on me. And in me. Now we have to make you have an enema. And come before I can poop.” “Who says that, Kevin?” “I do! But you said it, too, ma'am. I'm going to make you shit your brains out, and come your brains out, too. Please, ma'am.” Well, that is how Kevy and I got friendly some months ago. He was pretty lucky that I thought I actually could use an enema that morning – well, barely - and, of course, that I felt so playful as well as so protective of his feelings. I never told him that the only sex toy I actually owned was the most vanilla little vibrator ever, a gift from my cousin, Emily, as a warning about a guy I was dating: it meant try this instead. And the nipple clips I used on him were just a pair of funny little hair clips – the smallest and loosest I had. I'd never even seen nipple clips in person. It was true that I ended up liking to play with him and his special interests, though probably not much more than the two or three times a month that we actually did get together for our playtime, and he did always get me off. Kevin finally started to get close to Emily, my cousin, who lived just several blocks away and visited me every week or two. When I saw how friendly they were getting I had a little talk with her about Kevin's interests, but it turns out that he had already told her all about them. She had been open to trying sex games and ended up okay with doing's Kevin's preferences as often as he seemed to need indulging in them. And besides, she said that Kevy had also been open to trying Emily's own special preferences as often as she seemed to need indulging in them herself. And what were Emily's preferences? She never did tell me. =END= Copyright © 2016 USA -- By Jillie Ann Nellison