Part I
Chapter One
My wife Ellie was pregnant with our first child when I finally confessed
to her my need to be dominated by a woman. She had just entered her
second trimester, and her deliciously curved belly was beginning to
bulge to the point that she'd had to take out the waist of all her
clothes by about three inches. Her morning sickness had all but
disappeared, but her breasts were beginning to swell somewhat, and she
had started to complain about swelling in her ankles and feet. One
morning, hitting the snooze button on the alarm one too many times, I
rushed into the shower, shaved and dressed hurriedly, and rushed out the
door for the commute to work, so late that I didn't even take the time
to kiss her or stroke her burgeoning belly before I made my way to my
car. That was my first mistake.
The work day was uneventful, until lunchtime came. Recognizing my act of neglect before work, I called Ellie, waiting two rings until she picked up on the other end.
"Hi hon, it's me," I said breathlessly, feeling my heart beginning to palpitate as I imagined her wrath and hurt feelings. "I just wanted to apologize to you for rushing out before giving you your morning sugar."
"No need to apologize, dear," she purred in a soft, seductive voice. "I have a surprise all planned that will help you remember just how much I need your affection now that my pregnancy's sending me into hormone shock every waking moment." Her words, spoken in an airy caress, caused me to squirm in my office chair as I felt my penis stiffening in anticipation of perhaps a sublime punishment at her loving, capable, assertive hands. "You don't have to work late tonight, do you?"
"No--the V.P. in my department is out of town at a manager's meeting, and he told me that no overtime was approved unless it was a dire emergency and I contacted him by phone or e-mail. So far, things have been smooth as glass, so I don't need the backup yet."
"Good--I'll see you at six then, honey." She blew a kiss over the phone and disconnected.
I hung up my phone and ate my lunch, looking over some paperwork as I did so.
As I strolled in the front door of the house about five minutes after six that evening, Ellie greeted me in a lacy, pastel blue maternity teddie and crotchless maternity panties that set off her auburn hair and emerald green eyes brilliantly. Throwing her arms around me for a tender welcoming hug, she met my lips with hers, insinuating her tongue lewdly into my mouth. "I've decided," she announced, "that the only way to prevent you from repeating your neglectful mistake of this morning is with an empathy-building routine." She began squeezing my asscheeks lasciviously, continuing, "I want you to go into the master bedroom, strip off all your clothing--including socks and underwear--and put on the garments I've laid out for you on the bed." She sent me away with a sharp slap to my backside.
Entering the bedroom, I whistled when I saw the coral maternity teddie and crotchless panties that awaited me on the bed, complemented by a waist-cinching garterbelt and fishnet hose of the same color. "How could she have guessed?" I asked myself. I had always secretly harbored a dream of finding a woman who would not only dominate me, but force me to wear her lingerie while serving her every sexual whim. I nearly tore the buttons off my business shirt in my haste to undress, and only after I'd put it in the laundry basket on the closet floor, along with my socks and underwear, hung up my suit, and put my shoes on an open shoe tree, did I look down to see my penis already swollen with lust and leaking preejaculate. I adjusted the garterbelt tightly around my waist, fastening the dozen hooks and eyes of the closure to the smallest opening, eased the hose up my legs, fastened the garters, then donned the panties and adjusted the teddy on my chest, belly, and upper hips.
"Finished, dear?" Ellie inquired from the adjoining bathroom. I could hear the sound of running water and paraphernalia being moved around.
"Yeah, but I'm afraid I'll cum in a minute and stain your little lacy panties with my naughty big prick."
"You'd better not, or I'll double your punishment. Now come into the bathroom and get down on your hands and knees."
I followed her voice, settling onto the carpeted floor with my fanny exposed to the cool air.
"Now drop your head to the floor and spread your cheeks as far apart as you can get them." She dropped to her knees behind me, caressing my quivering asscheeks with a rubber-gloved hand. Without warning, she began easing a lubricated index finger into my quivering anal sphincter, fucking it in and out of me, stretching my hole vigorously before withdrawing to add more lube to the fingers of the exam glove.
I felt my hole open wider as she eased two fingers into my bung, feeling the rate of preejaculate seepage from my penis increase considerably before she withdrew the fingers, slapped my rear sharply, and rose to cross the room.
She returned carrying a standard open-topped enema bag, to which a double inflatable nozzle nozzle was attached. "I've decided," she explained, "that the only way to build your empathy toward the discomfort I am already suffering from my pregnancy is to inflate your belly at least three times a week, until I go into labor, with a series of enemas." I looked up with trepidation as she hung the bag on the robe hook at the top of the bathroom door, took the inflatable nozzle in her right hand, and handed it to me, adding, "Hold onto this while I get some more lube." Before leaving my field of vision, she observed, "Take a good look at what's going to be inside your selfish rear end in a minute, and realize that you'll take every drop of this yummy solution before I deflate the balloons and let you evacuate." She fetched the tube of water-based lube, returned to my side, covered the nozzle copiously, and, aligning the narrow outer end with her right index finger, slid it deftly up my still-stretched bottom cheeks.
"Sweet Mistress Ellie, may I say something?"
"Only if you address me by my regal name--Queen Satana!" she snapped, getting fully into the character and spirit of the occasion. "Speak, lowly worm."
"I just want to say that this fulfills two of my most cherished fantasies--being dressed in your lingerie and getting a hydraulic invasion of my ass at your hands. I feel like I've died and gone to heaven."
"That's very good, slave." I heard a puffing sound as she inflated the inner balloon, causing it to grow huge inside my sphincter, then felt the outer balloon swelling to seal me completely before she released the clamp to begin my infusion. "Although you think this is heaven, I hereby announce your welcome to hell."
I felt the overly warm (almost hot, actually) solution begin to spread inside my empty colon. Within moments an excruciating cramp seized my intestines; I hiccuped, instantly nauseous. "Exalted Queen Satana," I gasped.
"Yes, maggot?" she inquired haughtily.
"What's in the water? I feel like I'm about to burst already." Resting my head on my left forearm, I began to rub my expanding belly in a futile attempt to ease my agony.
"Two quarts of 106o water, two ounces of Dr. Bonner's pepperminet Castile soap, and two ounces of epsom salts, mixed very thoroughly. Since you've been so full of shit lately, I figure you need a really thorough cleansing before I begin your empathy training." She reached under my expanding middle to rub me in slow circles, forcing the water to move higher into my colon. Occasionally, the inside of her right wrist grazed my still-tumescent dick, which still hadn't gone down despite the pain in my tortured guts.
I hiccuped noisily, then began to sob as the cramps spread higher and higher in my abdomen. "Queen Satana?" I begged.
"What now, unworthy vermin?" Her massage of my swelling tummy intensified to the point that she was kneading my tormented flesh a little too vigorously to be soothing.
"I feel like I'm about to vomit--the cramps are that bad." I continued to sob and hiccup, convulsive waves of peristaltic action overwhelming me from ribcage to crotch.
She relented and stopped my in-flow for a few moments, resuming her vigorous circular motion over my straining belly. "You're doing really good, slave. You only have about a pint or so left to go." She patted my expanding paunch gently, then rose to do some doctoring with the bag. I could hear her stirring something into the mix, and she observed, "I crushed up some Ibuprofen and added it to your treatment, just so the cramps won't overwhelm you totally." Then I felt the pressure in my soft center increasing as she raised the bag as high as she could, continuing, "At this point, it's best that I drain this into you as fast as possible, then I can give you a really proper massage so you can hold it the prescribed ten minutes."
Instead of returning her caressing hand to my bloating stomach, she picked up a large vibrator, turned it on to its highest speed, and began jabbing it forcefully into my distending abdomen. My nauseous hiccups returned, and I breathed a sigh of momentary relief when I heard her click the clamp closed. That didn't last long, however, for she soon resumed her electromechanical attack on my aching center. Just as I thought my colon would rupture from this rough treatment, I felt my dickhead swell and explode in a warm flush of ejaculation, my semen flying across the length of the bathroom floor.
She switched off the vibrator then, slapping my tush briskly with a hand still clad in an exam glove, and ordered, "Lick up every drop of your spooge before I get good and mad and make you hold your load even longer." I bent to my humiliating task, nearly gagging from my cramps by the time I had dampened the carpet in half a dozen spots with my slave's saliva. She bent down to inspect my work, then yanked me roughly to my feet.
From the top of the towel cabinet, she drew a battery-powered oven timer. "I'm setting it for twenty-five minutes. If you should degenerate into such a wimp that you begin asking me to let you expel before your time is up, I will pour in three more quarts of extremely warm water to which a half cup of glycerine has been added." She looked sternly into my eyes, her right hand fingertips poised lightly on my chest as she guided me to my feet. She handed me the bag and hose, giving me a gentle push to turn me in the direction indicated, ordered, "Go hang up the bag on that IV stand beside the massage table, then lie on the table, on your left side with your legs separated, both knees bent."
As I completed my task, she approached me, carrying a pitcher of steaming water with a slight oily sheen on the surface. "If you don't hold this load without complaining, you'll get three more quarts of the glycerine solution forced into your slutty belly." She patted my already distended belly and inquired, "And how do you think that would feel, at the end of twenty-five minutes? Will it have you crying and whimpering for the toilet? Will I see your face whiten as you try to control your nausea? Or will you just look at me imploringly, a plea for mercy in your eyes?"
She abruptly brought her right hand down in a sharp slap to my bloated middle, kneading me for a moment before declaring, "It's your choice, how you want to end this."
She began a slow massage of my stretched paunch. Mistress Ellie's soft hands over my bloated gut felt wonderful as they worked the glycerine up my colon toward the soapy load I was retaining. Ellie intensified her massage of my pregnant-looking abdomen, as if willing the solution to penetrate deeper and deeper inside me.
It was then that the first cramp hit; I writhed, I tried to moan, but the devastating shock of the chemical fist slamming into my delicate inner nerves took my breath away completely. I felt tears leap furiously to my eyes, and it was through blurred vision that I noted Queen Satana looking down into my eyes. I gave her my best imploring look and hiccupped against my nausea as she began to knead my distented tummy so roughly I thought I might explode.
Riding out the second wave of cramps, I began taking deep, gasping breaths, trying to restore my equilibrium. I felt Mistress's hands sliding gently over my middle, straying at times to circle the rigid circumference of my erect penis with the fingers of her right hand. Lost in sensory overload, I began to gag violently, and just then the timer bell rang. "I'm going to give you an abdominal massage for a few more minutes so the last of that yummy stuff can penetrate further and really do its work."
She turned me onto my back, straddling me so that her plump, meaty ass was perched over my thighs, facing me in the cowgirl position. She looked down as she eased her slick vagina over my bursting dick. "This way, we can fuck while I masssage the rest of that solution all the way up inside you."
Chapter Two
Her pussy felt like a velvety fist wrapped around my shatteringly hard prick; my abodmen, bulging slightly even as I reclined below her, felt stuffed and still crampy, although her massage of its girth had caused the cramps to abate, only to be replaced by an unending wave of peristaltic action. Were it not for the double inflatable nozzle sealing my bottom, my shit would have splattered forcefully all over the exam table to run onto the bathroom floor.
Mistress Satana's head was thrown back in ecstasy as she endured her first orgasm of our coupling. Recovering, she ordered, "You will not come until I allow you to--is that clear?"
"Yes, Mistress Satana." I hiccuped and retched convulsively as a sudden cramp shot through me. "Sweet Mistress?" I inquired.
"Yes, unworthy worm?"
"How much time is left before I can release this load?"
She glanced back at the digital display on the timer. "Ten minutes," she replied brightly, adding, "then however long it takes for me to drain the additional three quarts of glycerine solution into you and have you hold that for ten minutes." She snickered at my sudden gasping intake of breath, simultaneously opening the clamp to begin releasing the caustic second helping of fluid hell into my already distended middle. Rocking up and down with her hips, she continued fucking my aching dick with her tight vaginal sheath, her passion mounting as little gasps escaped her lips. As we began to pant in unison, I was convinced that this time she'd let me complete my journey to ecstasy, until she regarded me with a wicked grin and stopped moving. Observing me sadistically, she licked her full ruby lips and asked, "You'd really like to come now, wouldn't you?"
"Oh yes, sweet Mistress Satana, I'd do anything if you'd let me come." I whimpered in unsated arousal and desperate need, at the same time gasping as the irritating glycerine solution set up a continuous shockwave of cramps that made my bowels feel as if they would burst immanently. "It hurts so bad," I croaked. "My belly is going to explode before I can even get to the toilet." Tears sprang from my eyes as I felt her begin to slide her slick womanhood slowly over my straining erection once again.
"How do you feel now?" she inquired, her voice dripping honey that still held a thinly-disguised venom behind it. "If I let you come when I close the clamp, will you obey me and hold this gallon and a half of delicious medicine for the prescribed ten minutes?" She rocked her pelvis against mine as she directed this last command in a stern voice.
"Yes, Sweet Mistress," I gasped, my penis aching for ejaculatory release even more than my hugely inflated belly yearned for the comfort of expelling the burning load inside my crampy colon.
"Very well then," she began, rocking her vagina up and down over my stone-hard manhood, her own breathing coming in little gasps as she rode close to the edge of her own ecstasy. Her abdomen, rounded in her fourth month of pregnancy, expanded and contracted with her breathing, and a sheen of sweat glistened over her neck, chest, breasts, belly, and inner thighs as she rode me to fulfillment. Her body shaking convulsively, she screamed, "Now!!!"
I grabbed her full, round buttocks and pushed forcefully into her sweet cunt as the liquid fire boiled from my testes, through my spermatic ducts and vas deferens and out through the head of my swollen penis, drenching her interior with my male essence for what seemed like a solid five minutes before I slumped exhaustedly against the table. I barely heard the click of the clamp as I fought wave after wave of cramps in my hugely expanded paunch, which looked as if I was at least six months pregnant.
"So goooodddd!!" she hissed, her rocking pelvis bouncing up and down on my still-spurting dick, swollen breasts and distended belly red with the grandma of all sex flushes. Her vaginal contractions milked me dry, then at last she relaxed as my penis began to detumesce, a huge fart erupting from her relaxed bottom to set the air reeking. Easing herself up off my pelvis, she repositioned herself with her wide, soft white fanny pointed at my face. "Now you can pay homage to my magnificent buttocks with your tongue, dog," she uttered in a menacing purr. I drenched her full moons with my tongue, then began rimming her, finally zeroing in on the dark asterisk of her anal passage. The entrance to her bowels was spicy and bitter, reminding me that she was probably constipated as usual (which seemed to be a constant up through this stage of her pregnancy), and I knew that she expected me to loosen her shincter enough to allow her to defecate naturally when I finished my osculum infame. Swearing my allegiance to her infernal majesty, I picked up the pace of my tongue action, wincing at times when she cut loose with even more pungent bursts of flatulence. Although the smell exacerbated my nausea from the brutal load in my middle, my dick was again stirring to obdurate erection. I gasped as she shuddered intermittently, her body wracked with anal orgasms from my phallic oral muscle. Her big round ass smashed down hard against my face as she bucked in her most intense climax of the session, and my nose felt bruised from the impact. Finally, she settled her full weight on my face, my nose lodged deep in her beautiful asshole as noisy, convulsive farts continued to issue from her rear.
A beeping sound indicated that our time had run out. She lifted herself slowly off my face and eased herself to her feet, then took my hand to lead me to the toilet. Positioning me so that my fanny was aimed over the opening, she carefully deflated the outer balloon to the inflatable nozzle, gripping it in her left hand while her right turned the valve to deflate the inner bladder. The device slipped from my sore asshole as an unending torrent of my waste began to explode from my bottom, settling heavily onto the seat as my cramps returned with intensified force. I belched nauseously, certain that I was going to puke, my eyes filled with tears, pleading with her stern gaze to do something to ease my agony.
Finally, she relented and began running a warm, damp washcloth over my forehead and face with her right hand, her left hand going to massage my slowly deflating gut. I belched incessantly as the cramps continued until the farting, sputtering, and splashing from my tormented rear ceased, then she bathed the sweat off my chest and stomach with the washcloth. "I think a warm rinse of your innards is in order, dog," she announced imperiously. "Back on the table!"
Chapter Three
This time, she placed cuffs on my ankles, pulling my legs back against my shoulders to secure my cuffs to eyehooks mounted on the edge of the table, attaching similar cuffs to my wrists and securing them to eyehooks adjacent to the ones that held my body in its bent position and exposed my slightly tilted rump to her ministrations. I moaned in apprehension and mounting lust, knowing that my backside, bowels, and genitals were completely at her mercy; I wondered just how she was going to rinse me out, and how long she'd make me hold this fresh load of liquid.
She disappeared from my view for what seemed like hours, but must in reality have been no more than ten minutes. When she returned, she was pushing the IV stand with a monstrous black bag hanging from its top. Attached to the bottom of the hose was a single inflatable nozzle with a 500cc balloon (not the 250cc balloons like those installed on the double inflatable nozzle she'd just used on me) from which depended a 27mm colon tube five feet in length. "I'll need to get really deep inside you with this rinse," she announced, "so that you'll get all that glycerine and soap completely washed out of your system."
As she snapped latex surgical gloves on both hands, I inquired, "How big is that bag, anyway?"
"The biggest one I could find, slave. It holds ten quarts, and you're going to be taking every delicious ounce. And if you complain just once, I'll fill it again." With a stern expression on her face, she cautioned, "So be sure to maintain a respectful attitude and absolute silence, unless I demand a response from you, or I just might fill you until you explode." Her voice turned into a snarl as she completed this ultimatum, and I felt my dick erecting hungrily as she added a second finger to the prostate massage she gave me in the guise of lubing my bunghole for the huge colon tube.
As she added a third finger, she asked, "Does my naughty little baby need his tummy washed out?" as she patted my flat abdomen.
Getting into the spirit of infantilism she seemed to be establishing, I whined, "Oh Mommy, it burns so bad inside my tummy. Please rinse me out with that yummy warm water." Rocking back and forth as much as my immobilized body would allow, I moaned in real distress from the soreness inside my middle, looking up at her with pleading eyes as I felt big tears (real, not feigned) slide down my cheeks. "I think I'm going to be really sick if you don't wash out my tum-tum, sweet Mommy." I belched, my nausea from the punishing nature of the soap and glycerine that lingered in my colon returning with increasing force.
"And will you kiss Mommy's ass some more if I start this warm rinse for you?" she inquired, with a gleeful look of absolute control on her face. She patted my belly again, beginning to knead it gently as she waited for my reply.
"Yes, Mommy," I hiccupped, my respiration rate accelerating at the idea of what she was about to do to me. "Please enema my tummy and make it bigger than yours so that nasty stuff will be all rinsed out of me." I began to pant as her massage of my sore abdomen began to intensify.
"Very well, then," she replied, one hand reaching to slide a finger clad in a latex exam glove, lubricated with K-Y jelly, into my tight sphincter. Her action of pumping the digit in and out renewed my erection, and I gasped as she added a second finger and continued to fingerfuck my opening fanny with a gleeful expression on her face.
"That feels so good, Mommy," I observed. "I can't wait for that nice warm load of water to start flowing into my tummy."
"And I can't wait to give it to you, my angel," she replied. "It will be especially soothing after the assault with the soap and glycerine, because I've stirred in five tablespoons of baking soda." Her hand began to squeeze my belly flesh vigorously as she added a third finger to her digital assault of my anus.
"Yummy," I cooed. "Baking soda rinses are ever the best." I gurgled contentedly, sounding for all the world like a toddler who was being treated for a real intestinal problem. "I love my Mummy--she takes such good care of me," I continued in a childish sing-song. "Please give me my tummy wash now, sweet Mummy."
"In a minute," she replied, adding a fourth finger to her anal massage. "I've got to get your bootie hole widened out enough so I can begin to work that tube inside you." She continued to saw the four fingers in and out of my wide open asshole, curling the tips against my prostate in a way that made me fearful that I'd squirt a hot, forbidden load of my cum-sauce before she could begin easing the giant tube into my rear. Before that could happen, however, she pulled the fingers out with a pop, then began to ease the thick tube inside my receptive opening, not stopping until it was inserted well past my prostate and deep into my sigmoid colon. "Here comes your tummy wash," she announced, opening the clamp to let the huge load of solution gurgle forcefully into my empty bowels.
"So good!" I hissed, feeling the pressure begin as the two and a half gallons of solution began to distend my abdomen almost immediately. My dick was once more erect, and I moaned in pleasure at the arousal as the pressure in my middle began to mount more rapidly than I'd ever experienced before. The huge bag, hung about five feet above my slightly elevated rear, was draining its contents into me far too quickly, and I coughed as I implored, "Mommy, it's coming in too fast. Can you slow it down a bit? If you don't, I'm afraid my tummy's going to burst."
"Certainly," she responded, closing the clamp and moving the bag to the lowest horizontal support on the IV stand. She began a gentle massage of my already hugely bloated gut, soothing me with her voice, "It's all right, baby. Mommy won't try to push the rest of it into you so fast." As she said this, she eased the tube further into my colon, twisting and bending it until it was all the way inside me. "I think," she observed thoughtfully, "that now that the tube is way up high inside you, you'll probably be able to take the rest of the solution more easily." She continued her caress of my distended middle for several minutes before opening the clamp to release the last gallon of the solution into my stretching inside.
"Is that better, sugar?" she inquired. She rubbed both hands in large circles around the girth of my hugely inflated stomach. Noticing my look of distress and panic, she added, "It will help if you take some deep breaths, so pant like a puppy, sugar, okay?"
Beginning the recommended breathing, I noticed her walking away, big round ass swaying sensually as she left the bathroom for a few moments. When she returned, she carried a pitcher filled with a pale liquid and a huge vibrator to which a rough-surfaced massage plate was attached. "As soon as you've held the 2-1/2 gallons of baking soda solution for the ten minutes required for this treatment, I'm going to add another treat to your tummy wash." Easing the inflatable nozzle balloon fully into my rectum, she pumped the inflator bulb three times, then thought better of her plan and pumped it twice more.
I couldn't have expelled that giant load of liquid if I'd wanted to; the balloon felt like a regulation softball inside my ass, and I grunted as I felt the pressure of my treatment against its expanse. My dick was weeping precum at a furious rate, so much that I could see the glistening trail of dampness all over my hugely distended middle. I belched with the fullness inside me as she began to run the vibrator plate across my impregnified abdomen, wincing at the abrasion from its rough plane. I soon noted that my nausea was gone, replaced by the explosive fullness that swept every inch of my colon. My hiccups had ceased, and I purred contentedly as Mistress Satana continued her abrasive massage of my swollen gut.
Checking her watch, she observed, "You've held this for the required ten minutes without complaining. Good little doggy boy." She set the vibrator aside, patted my huge paunch affectionately, and raised the pitcher of liquid over the top of the open bag, pouring it in slowly and carefully so not a drop could be wasted. "Here's the treat I promised you," she announced, opening the clamp to release the additional fluid into my already stuffed bowels.
At first, I felt a sensation of frigidity in my middle, then began the most intensely wicked set of gas pains I'd ever felt. "What is that stuff, Mommy? It feels like my tummy's about to burst."
"A half-gallon of lemonade, made extra strong and ice cold. How do you like the effect?"
"I feel like I'm gonna split wide open, Mommy. Please take it out, or my tummy's gonna pop wide open."
"Not until the bag is empty," she commanded, a stern expression on her face. "This may be the only way you'll ever learn to identify with back labor; I got this recipe from a friend of mine who recently had triplets, after sixteen hours of back labor." She began kneading my belly flesh brutally hard with her strong fingers, causing me to belch in nausea, forcing tears of brutal agony to stream from my eyes as I felt as though my middle had been transformed into a hot-air balloon. "Do you know what the best part of this baking soda-lemonade cocktail is, sugar?"
"Nothing," I groused, my tongue hanging out of my mouth from the intensity of my nausea and explosive fullness.
"The best part is that it takes a while before you can even begin to expel the solution, and the cramps and explosive farts when you do expel will make you wish you could keep this delicious stuff inside you for a longer time." She resumed her vibrator massage of my vastly expanded midsection as the last of the acidic chaser chugged inexorably into my distended colon.
A clicking sound alerted me to the fact that I had, in essence, three gallons of busy solution percolating inside my vastly expanded abdomen, and I heard her footsteps moving away just as the doorbell sounded. I fell into a partial swoon, conscious only of the tiger clawing inside my crampy guts.
Chapter Four
"Come on in, Maegan," she greeted cheerfully, her footsteps growing in volume as she led the head of my department at work back to the bathroom.
"Oh no," I thought to myself. "If my department head sees me like this, I'll never live it down around the office." I moaned in absolute mortification as two sets of footfalls approached the throne room.
The short, full-figured blonde waltzed into the room of my humiliation behind my pregnant wife, her eyes lighting up gleefully as she spied my position of abjection on the massage table. "Ellie, that's intense--the most outrageous sympathetic pregnancy I've ever seen. Is he wearing an empathy belly, or what?"
"Naw--this is the real thing. See that big tube coming out of his butt?"
"An enema? What a novel idea!"
"Not just any enema, either, Meg. He's got a two and a half gallon baking soda solution, plus a half gallon of icy lemonade, locked inside him with a 500c inflatable nozzle balloon attached to a 27mm 50FR colon tube." She patted my belly distractedly as she asked, "Wanna feel how hard his tummy is?"
The shorter woman placed her hand against my swollen belly, patting it gently, then with increasing pressure before she began to squeeze and knead my tortured flesh. "Are you in any pain, Paul?" she inquired.
"I feel like I'm gonna die." I belched, nauseous again from the incredible gas inside my bowels.
"Better not--if you die, we'll withdraw our share of your IRA contribution for this year," she proclaimed with her typically sardonic grin.
"I guess we'd best let him release this," Ellie conceded. "Meg, will you do me a favor while I go to the kitchen to warm up some milk for his final rinse?"
"What's that, Ellie?"
"Massage his overloaded gut with this vibrator while he's expelling that busy solution. It may help ease his gas pains a bit."
"Sure thing," she conceded eagerly, drawing my blossoming wife into a soulful hug and kiss before turning to assist with the next phase of my treatment.
As soon as Ellie had left the room, Maegan aimed the abrasive plate attached to the vibrator dead center in the middle of my vastly inflated gut, pushing hard as she deflated the inflatable nozzle and whisked the balloons out of my ass after positioning an oversized rubber bedpan under me. Turning the vibrator switch to high, she pushed forcefully into my protesting abdomen as the huge, crampy purge began to explode from my male pussy, punctuated by thunderous farts that echoed through the expanse of my tormented bowels. As my expulsion slowed to a trickle, the short, stocky blonde moved the plate to the lower right side of my midsection, beginning a vigorous massage in a clockwise motion that moved gradually up around my waistline then back down to concentrate about five inches above my crotch on the left, pressing forcefully into my sigmoid colon. More farts and explosive cramps punctuated this activity, and I could hear the noisy exit of additional solution and feces as she continued to pummel my still-distended belly with the vibrator's harsh plate.
Meg had just assisted me into a semi-squatting position over the toilet and started wiping my bespattered tush with bath tissue and baby wipes when Ellie (in her Queen Satana persona) returned to the bathroom with a clear 3.8 quart hospital style opentop bag filled with two layers of solution: the bottom half was white, while the top half was dark brown. "Have you inspected his latest return yet?" she inquired of my supervisor.
"No, but I'll do it right now." Her hands on my hips pushed me away from the toilet so she could look into the dirty water. "Still some big chunks in here," she observed. "Is that what I think it is? An old fashioned black and white treatment?"
"Sure is," Mistress Satana snarled. She pulled the hose up in her hands after hanging the bag on the IV stand. "Check out this buttplug nozzle I'm using; the fat part is 2 1/4" wide, the neck tapers to 1", and it's eight inches long. It should prove very effective." She brought it close to my eyes so I could stare at it in wonder and dread.
"That'll tickle your innards," Meg observed. "With the gallon shooter of milk and blackstrap molasses, you'll need all the help you can get in retaining this load." She patted my flattened belly and said, "I can't wait to see this get blown up with that yummy mixture."
"Will you help me get that St. Andrew's cross from the closet?" Ellie inquired of her volunteer assistant. "I think it's best that we hang him upside down for this treatment."
"You betcha, sweetycakes," she grinned like the proverbial Chesire cat. They exited the throne room for the desired bondage suspension device as I stood there, head bowed and eyes downcast, pondering my fate. A few minutes later, they returned with the contraption, placing it squarely in the tub. "Bend over on all fours in front of the tub," Ellie/Queen Satana directed, "then spread your fannycheeks as far apart as you can get them." As I complied with this obscene command, I felt small fingers slowly penetrate my bung. "If you guessed that it's Maegan's fingers, and not mine, that are going into your asshole, you're right," Queen Satana announced. "I dub her Princess Dread, and she might even be able to get her whole hand inside you to prepare you for this big plug nozzle."
My dick was returning to full erection from the action in my rear, and I heard Meg observe, "I've got three fingers inside him right now, and it's really a comfortable fit." I felt the withdrawal of the fingers, then a reinsertion that stretched me a bit more as the blonde troll announced, "Four fingers," and continued to fingerfuck my anus slowly and sensuously, gradually speeding up until she was almost slamming those wicked digits in and out of my opening fannysocket. Pulling her fingers from my behind with a pop, she made a wedge of all five fingers and slowly eased them inside me; I felt an intense stretching for a few moments, then a slow insertion, followed by the feeling of her wiggling four fingers and a thumb inside me. "I got it," she whooped triumphantly, beginning an in and out motion that had me feeling her fist all the way up to my stomach (it felt that way at least) and caused the preejaculate to weep from my penis at a rapid rate.
"That's enough," Ellie announced. "We don't want him to come just yet. If you can pull your hand out of him without lacerating his colon, Princess Dread, we'll get the plug installed and get him strapped onto the cross." I felt her hand slowly withdraw, a slight stretching pain in my anus as the wide part of Princess Dread's hand departed my opened bottom. My hole felt so open and empty that I shivered, but only for a moment, as Queen Satana was quick to ease the big plug nozzle up my rear until the shoulder passed my outer sphincter and the device seated itself fully in my apprehensive rectum. "Now you can stand in the tub, back against the cross."
As I positioned myself thusly, she and Princess Dread began fastening the straps to my ankles, securing them firmly to the bottom legs of the cross, then did the same with my wrists at the tops of the crosspieces. Finally, they fastened a four-inch wide leather belt tightly around my waist, unlocked the swivel fitting on the back of the cross, and spun it 180 degrees to place me upside down. Moving the IV stand closer to the tub in which I was suspended, Queen Satana rehung the bag on the top horizontal, directing Princess Dread to pick up the vibrator with the sandpaper plate attachment on it. "Since he's upside down, we can fill him really rapidly, but only if you keep this pressed against his belly to move the solution all the way into his colon. Ready?"
Maegan grinned her best Chesire cat smile, took the vibrator in her right hand, turned on the power switch, and pushed it hard against the middle of my gut as Ellie opened the clamp that would deliver the wicked mixture into my hapless bowels.
I at first felt the soothing, creamy warmth of the milk as it began to flow into my newly-empty colon, and the vibrator massage at Princess Dread's hands felt exquisite. This comfort lasted only a few minutes before the molasses began to flow inside me behind the milk; a cramp hit my middle that had me instantly crying and gagging as the wicked solution continued to force its way deep into my innards.
"I imagine he won't even bitch about the huge colonic we're going to give him after we finally let him release this, will he?" Maegan asked Ellie, pushing the vibrator in rough circles around my expanding belly as she snickered sadistically.
"Somehow, I doubt it," Queen Satana exclaimed gleefully. "One thing I'm going to teach you, worm, is that you can't possibly endure enough belly pain and pressure to fully train you to empathize with what I'm going through bearing this child for us." She grabbed my still-firm cock, moistening the glans with the preejaculate that kept weeping from my urethra in spite of the awful cramps in my bloated guts, and added, "Look at the little pig; he's still horny even though his tummy must feel like Armageddon is being waged inside him." As she made this observation, I felt the urge to gag, and whimpered as the vomit pushed my mouth open and launched itself all over my upside-down body. The pain in my guts was so intense that I ejaculated forcefully all over my distended abdomen before I was done puking. "See there, Princess Dread. Even when we fill his middle with something so abrasive that it makes him barf, he still ejaculates like a Pavlovian response to the pressure in his bowels." She moved away for a minute, during which I could hear the sound of running water, and returned with a soapy sponge for the purpose of wiping the vomitus and sticky seminal fluid off my belly and chest and neck and face. "It's fun watching him suffer, isn't it?"
"You bet," Meg replied, adding, "we'll have to bring my boyfriend over for his next session, just so he knows what he'll be in for within a few weeks." She resumed her vibrator action on my swollen center as the bag gurgled dry and Ellie closed the clamp with a sharp click.
"Do you mean?" Ellie began.
"Yeah, I missed my last period. A visit to my ob/gyn doctor confirmed my pregnancy yesterday. I'm about six weeks along."
"Hon, we've got to get that boyfriend of yours over here quick, and begin training him." An evil smirk crossed my wife's normally placid features, and she inquired, "How'd you feel about us extending treatments for my hubby here past my due date and up until you give birth, too? Do you think that would teach him to be more appreciative of what we women face producing children?"
"I think it would be a wonderful idea," the zäftig blonde concurred. "I'll go call my boyfriend right now--we can start him on the same course while dipshit here is expelling and getting his ass ready for extended colonic therapy." She handed Ellie/Queen Satana the vibrator, left the room, and fetched her cell phone from her purse.
She was still talking when she came back into the bathroom. "That's right; grab a big package of chocolated Ex-Lax and a dozen bottles of magnesium citrate on your way over here. I'm already getting constipated from my pregnancy." She turned off the phone and looked at us with a lustful expression on her face. "How much longer are we going to make him hold this purge?" she inquired.
"I'd like to make him hold it for about a week, but that would be impractical. How about we let him release just after your boyfriend gets here?"
"Sounds good to me--should I keep stirring up this load with the vibrator?"
"Absolutely, Meg dear. It won't clean him out the right way unless we get it into every hidden pocket of his slimy colon." She patted my belly affectionately, then moved away to begin preparing equipment for the super-rinse I anticipated both with longing and trepidation.
Chapter Five
Meg resumed her rough vibrator massage of my troubled paunch for a few minutes, then laid the instrument aside, announcing, "I'm going to get my bag from the living room; there's something in there that will work much better." She exited the bathroom, wide rear swaying lasciviously.
"I wonder what she has in mind," Ellie remarked, approaching the cross to pat my belly affectionately. "Do you still feel nauseous?" she inquired.
"No, but my belly aches something fierce." Tears slid down my cheeks as I moaned from the intensity of the gut-buster I was being forced to retain.
"It'll all be over soon, sugar," she comforted, massaging my middle gently. Just then Maegan/Princess Dread reentered the bathroom, carrying a leather tawse which she slapped repeatedly against the palm of her left hand.
"This'll make that solution travel a little higher into his guts, and also help him get his hardon back," she announced. She approached the tub as Ellie/Queen Satana resumed her chore cleaning and rinsing the equipment we'd been using. The short blonde began rubbing the tawse in slow circles in a counterclockwise motion that covered the expanse of my swollen abdomen, then, without warning, lifted it up and brought it down sharply against the center of my belly. "That's for ogling my tits and ass at work," she declared. "You're lucky I'm your superior and not vice-versa, or I'd have slapped you with a sexual harassment suit months ago." She delivered a second sharp blow to my crampy stomach, exclaiming, "And this is for not respecting your wife's emotional fragility during her pregnancy." Another blow and she concluded, "And this one's to remind you that your ass, your asshole, your bowels, your penis, your testicles, your nose, your tongue, and your heart are all ours to do with as we please, both during our pregnancies and for the rest of your life." She began a slow, rhythmic, methodical paddling of my dangerously stressed abdomen as Ellie began running hot water to fill the monstrous ten-quart bag for the beginnings of my colonic, not stopping until my wife came over, drew the tawse from her right hand, and took her into a tender hug.
Just then, the doorbell rang. "Meg, why don't you answer it? It's probably your boyfriend anyway." Before the shorter woman could leave, Ellie requested, "But help me get him upright and off this cross first, okay?" Quickly they unlocked the swivel, spun me rightside up, and unbuckled the shackles at my ankles and wrists, then Maegan sashayed off to greet her man. "I want you to stand over the toilet in a half-squat while I pull the plug, then I'll massage your gut with the vibrator so this stuff exits your body thoroughly," Queen Satana directed.
"God, it hurts so bad," I exclaimed, feeling a stretching motion as she began easing the long plug from my rear. Finally, my fannysocket was unblocked, and Ellie guided me carefully to the seat as I was almost too weak to maneuver. My expulsion was instantaneous and furious, and the room spun as a giant fart wracked my gut and massive cramps ensued.
"Don't try to force it," she cautioned, adding, "just let it flow out naturally.
What happened instead is that a virtual Niagara of crampy liquid agony exploded from my rear, the stickiness of the molasses splashing up against my widespread buttocks. With a sigh, I slumped against the toilet tank as Ellie began a comforting abdominal massage with the vibrator, sans sandpaper plate. I belched in my agony and nausea, fearing that I would explode or experience the complete ejection of my viscera before my torment was ended. My forehead, shoulders, chest, and abdomen were covered by a sheen of sweat, so Ellie laid aside the vibrator and moistened a washcloth with cool water, scrubbing me soothingly as I worked toward the completion of my evacuation.
"You'll probably feel excessively gassy and crampy even after you've expelled however much of this as you can. That'll mean that you will welcome the absolute filling of your colon with several gallons of salt water to restore your electrolytes and flush all that nasty stuff out of your belly." She began kneading my still-swollen midsection gently with her left hand as she continued the vibrator work with her right.
A few minutes later, Princess Dread returned to the bathroom leading her boyfriend/slave by a chain leash attached to a leather collar around his neck. All that he wore was a leather g-string, which didn't hide the cord and power unit of a vibrating buttplug installed in his ass. "Steve here is going to watch you get your rinse while we're starting the same treatment we gave you on his woefully empty backside and belly." She whacked him hard across the middle with a riding crop she'd picked up from somewhere, then positioned him on the table that she and Ellie had treated me on.
"You're gonna love it, Steve," I quipped just before Ellie gave me a sharp right into my midsection, effectively knocking the wind out of me and causing me to groan in agony. “Gotta make sure all that nasty stuff’s out of you so the rinse will be more effective,” she explained, relenting in her fisticuffs to my middle and kneading my belly sensuously.
Once I was finished, she wiped me carefully with bath tissue and same moist washcloth, flushed away the paper, and positioned me on the bathroom floor in the Sims position (left side, legs spread apart). Filling the ten-quart bag with 105o water, she attached a 60FR colon tube of one-inch thickness to the hose, hung it on the shower curtain rod, and began easing the tube inside my opened back passage.
Meanwhile, Maegan was inserting a inflatable nozzle into Steve’s behind, inflating it, and opening the clamp on the hose from the six-quart bag so that the solution of Castile soap, glycerine, and steaming water would begin its journey into his unsuspecting insides. I gurgled contentedly as I felt the warm of my rinse penetrate me and fill my awareness with its hydraulic caress.
