by Tom
Over the ten years of Melissa's existence, Chuck had become reasonably adept at reading her mind and interpreting her speech. His daughter was unhappy - she wound herself around him, sniffling her distress.
"What's the trouble, Melissa."
"I feel poorly."
"Is it a miserable poorly or a hurting poorly?"
"Both."
Not for the first time, Chuck missed his wife. Peggy's death two years previously had left him with Melissa and a large house that they had always planned to populate with several brothers and sisters for her.
"Where does it hurt."
"EVERYWHERE!"
Chuck sighed deeply and wondered if he would ever be able to communicate clearly with her.
"Where is everywhere?"
"My tummy and my legs and my head."
Chuck had amassed a huge selection of books on child rearing and child health, and had discovered that printed pages do not convey real information. He momentarily considered calling the doctor, but he had made a fool of himself that way before - the man had been very patient, but had obviously not relished being awakened in the small hours with vague symptoms. Chuck could recall the conversation - how a really sick child is unmistakably ill, not prattling away about her pains and discomfort - and that he should try to find an experienced mother to advise whether or not an emergency call was necessary.
"Why don't I go and get Mrs. Finnerty to have a look at you?"
Melissa brightened up. She liked the two boys who lived next door and their mother. She nodded. Chuck picked up the phone and called Maeve.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, but could you possibly have a look at Melissa for me? She's complaining of general hurting and I don't really know what to do."
"Sure I will. I'll be right there."
Chuck relaxed as the large lady bustled into the house, radiating an air of competence and authority that calmed Melissa immediately. He should have done this long ago, instead of reading all of those books that convinced him his daughter was suffering from every disease from asthma to zygotis.
"Now then, dearie, what's the trouble?"
Melissa started to explain, but Maeve wasn't really listening to her as she deftly felt over the child's body and looked for spots and swellings.
"Nothing to see, but you're a wee bit warm, I think. We'll just take your temperature, shall we?"
Melissa did not get the chance even to nod. With the practice born of years of dealing with two children, Maeve flipped the girl over her knee, pulled her little white pants down and had a lubricated thermometer inserted into her anus before there was any resistance.
Chuck looked away, embarrassed. Melissa was a competent child, perfectly capable of bathing and dressing herself and, apart from the occasional reminder, Chuck did not involve himself in her personal affairs. He glanced back and winced at the look of shock on Melissa's face as one of Mrs. Finnerty's strong hands held her down while the other grasped the glass tube and rested on her butt.
The thermometer was withdrawn and Melissa scrambled to pull up her pants while Maeve squinted at the silver column.
"A little high, but not very much. Stick your tongue out for me."
Melissa complied, her eyes brimming with tears, and then answered a set of questions covering the state of her digestive system. Mrs. Finnerty nodded, then jerked her head to indicate that she wished to speak to Chuck outside.
"The poor lamb is just constipated. Don't you check that she goes regularly?"
Chuck shook his head - the last occasion he had been involved in the functioning of Melissa's bowels was when she was in diapers.
"Dear me, Chuck, you really should keep track, you know. Children sometimes simply forget to go - that's when you get like she is. Just give her an enema and she'll be fine."
Chuck gazed blankly at her.
"You can't be serious! I couldn't do anything like that. Nobody uses enemas nowadays."
"Maybe more than you think. People just don't talk about it so much. Anyway - that's beside the point. That young lady is constipated beyond the point where a bowl of bran is going to do any good - she needs an enema."
Chuck sighed - she was probably right, now that he came to think of it. He could remember a couple of occasions in his childhood when his own mother had come to the same conclusion and syringed him in the bedroom, resulting in immediate blessed relief from tummy pains and headaches. That still left him with a problem.
"Maeve, I can't administer an enema to a young girl, even if she is my daughter. Maybe I should take her to the emergency room."
"Don't be silly - there's nothing to it. I'll do it for you - just keep her calm and quiet while I fetch the stuff."
She swept out of the house, leaving Chuck with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Still - if it had to be done, it was probably better to get it over with here and now. He went to Melissa's room to find an unhappy young girl.
"Daddy - did you see what she did to me? She put a thermometer up my..."
She stopped in confusion. Little girl language did not really cope very well with the details of that part of her anatomy. Chuck saw her thinking and realized the problem, then Melissa's jaw set in a line of defiance.
"...up my asshole! That's *disgusting* - why didn't she just put it in my mouth. Not the *same* thermometer, of course."
Chuck tried hard not to burst out laughing.
"Darling, that's they way they do it for little ones - I guess she thought you were too young to hold it in your mouth. And watch your language!"
"Well, that's what the boys call it! What's it's proper name?"
"It's called your anus, honey."
"That's a PLANET! So that's why they all laughed and Miss Brown blushed when we did astronomy!"
Chuck joined in her chuckles, then brought the subject back to the matter in hand.
"Mrs. Finnerty is coming back in a little while, honey, and she's going to give you something to help you go to the toilet. I want you to be a good girl and do exactly as she tells you."
Melissa's mouth opened to ask the obvious question, but Chuck was saved by the noise of Maeve returning. He kissed Melissa on the top of her head.
"Remember now - be a good girl."
Maeve had obviously prepared things at home - she was carrying a full enema bag with the coiled tubing and a pot of Vaseline in her hand. Chuck could hardly bear to look at it - although his experience of enemas was many years in the past and had not actually been unpleasant, he still found it unnerving that little Melissa had to have one.
"Er...Maeve...I think it would be best if I took a walk while you do this."
He fled from the house and walked aimlessly around while he wondered just how Melissa was taking the procedure. He waited outside his own house until he saw the door open and Maeve emerge with a deflated bag.
"She's fine, Chuck, just a little upset - after all, it was the first time she's had an enema."
Chuck hurried inside to be met by the faint sound of gut-rending sobbing from Melissa's room - he ran inside, then realized it was coming from her bathroom. He entered cautiously, then saw a naked Melissa sitting on the toilet, bent double as her intestines spasmed to try to expel the last vestiges of soapsuds. She raised a tear-stained face at him.
"Daddy. That was AWFUL. Do you know what she did to me?"
Chuck retrieved a night-dress and slipped it over the small shoulders while Melissa automatically pushed her arms into the sleeves.
"DADDY! She took all of my clothes off, then she made me kneel on the floor, and then she pushed a tube up my asshole...anus...and then she filled me up to the brim with water. It was AWFUL! It was... disgusting. How could you let her do that to me?"
Chuck reached for a facecloth and ran it under the tap then handed it to her.
"Just wipe the stuff off, honey. I'm sorry... I'm *real* sorry, but it just had to be done. Sometimes we all have to have unpleasant things to make us better."
He handed her a towel and went into the bedroom while she sorted herself out, then tried to comfort her further, holding her tight and stroking her hair. Melissa still had to talk.
"Daddy - she says she does it to Barry and John! Lots of times! Is that true?"
"I don't really know. It probably is."
John he could understand - he was a scruffy ten year old, Melissa's friend and partner in crime - but Barry was fourteen, with an embryo moustache and incipient acne. Surely not!
Melissa suddenly jumped up as her intestines rumbled.
"I gotta go again! Don't go away, daddy!"
Chuck winced as he hear more sounds of straining and small cries of pain, then hugged his white-faced daughter when she emerged. What on earth had the woman used? Caustic soda? From what he could remember, an enema just made you warm and comfortable, then produced a gentle increasing urge to empty your bowels in a leviathan push that filled the bowl halfway to the top and needed pots of boiling water poured over the stuff to get it to flush away.
Melissa was clinging for the rest of the day. When it came to bedtime, she appeared in the door of Chuck's bedroom, her favorite teddy bear clasped under her arm, looking like an illustration from a child's book.
"Can I come in with you tonight, daddy?"
"If you want."
Chuck sighed and rummaged in his closet for pyjamas, then changed in his bathroom before slipping in beside the small figure. Melissa snuggled close to him.
"Daddy?"
"Yes honey?"
"You won't ever let her do that again, will you? It was really, really nasty."
"I can't promise that you won't ever need an enema again, but Mrs. Finnerty won't be the one who does it if you do. I promise that. Cross my heart."
"Is that what it's called? An enema?"
"Yes, hon."
There was a long silence, then Melissa wanted more information.
"Did you ever have to have one, daddy?"
"Oh, yes - mom gave me two or three when I was a little boy."
He felt her go tense and mentally kicked himself. Melissa still missed her mother dreadfully. He turned and hugged her tight.
"Darling, I miss her too. We just have to carry on, though."
*****
Chuck suddenly found that Maeve became much more attentive. His status as a widower with a child was a powerful anaphrodisiac as far as single women were concerned - he had tentatively tried to establish relationships for the past year but they had failed dismally - it was the ultimate frustration at the advanced age of 32 to find yourself in a state of enforced celibacy. Melissa gradually got over her experience and slowly re-established normal relationships with the boys and their mother.
Chuck came to realize that Maeve ruled her sons with a rod of iron - or rather rubber and plastic - and seemed to be determined to keep them in a state of almost infantile dependency on her. This was foreign to Chuck - he had been encouraged into early independence, knowing that his parents were there when he needed them but permitted to take as much responsibility for his own affairs as he wished. He shared in Barry's humiliation and resentment as his mother insisted on checking that he had washed his neck and ears and demanded to know exactly where he was going and who with.
At the same time, Chuck felt himself responding to the woman. She wasn't throwing herself at him, but small domestic intimacies like sharing the dishwashing were slowly building a relationship - and a desire. From the practical point of view, the amalgamation of their families would be simple - maybe this was the way to go.
The entire thing was destroyed in a matter of minutes. Chuck and Melissa had been invited to supper - the woman could cook like an angel - and they were relaxing in comfortable domesticity afterwards when Maeve looked hard at Barry.
"Are those more spots on your neck?"
"Aw, mom, not now..."
"Come here. Let me have a look."
Barry stood, clearly embarrassed, as his mother removed his shirt and inspected his upper body.
"You're breaking out all over! You've been eating junk food again, haven't you?"
Barry did not reply, but his guilt was writ large on his face. Maeve sighed with motherly despair.
"Enema for you tonight, young man."
"AW, MOM!"
"Don't you talk to me in that tone of voice. You're getting an enema whether you like it or not."
Chuck was horribly embarrassed. Boys of Barry's age should not be humiliated like that. Then Maeve seemed to have an idea. She turned to Chuck.
"Tell you what, why don't we make it a family enema? My mother used to clean all of us out from time to time. What say the children all go up and get undressed, then you and I will do the honors?"
The silence was broken by a wail from Melissa as she ran for the door. Chuck grabbed her and held her tightly, then faced Maeve.
"Woman, you need to see a shrink. I've never heard anything so obscene in my life. What do you think kids are? Toys? Dolls? Playthings? We're out of here - right now - for good."
Melissa hugged and kissed him as soon as they got home.
"Daddy - you really told her! She's been asking me about my bowels for a while now. I just *knew* she was going to do something like that."
****
It came as a relief when Chuck finally found a buyer for his house. His explosion at Maeve had produced a state of war between the two families that was not going to end as long as they were neighbors. It wasn't so much for himself as for Melissa - the poor child was steadily being reduced to a wreck as Maeve mounted a twenty-four hour guard over her property line and screamed abuse whenever it was even approached - her two sons had been forbidden even to speak to the girl.
Melissa was relieved that they had moved, and captivated with her new home - Chuck gave her a free hand to decorate her room and an ad-hoc committee of young females was formed and specified improbable quantities of frills and pink fabrics to produce a dream boudoir for a ten year old.
Then, a couple of weeks after their move, Melissa started to look out of sorts.
"What's the matter, honey? Missing the old house?"
A knot of dread started to form in Chuck's stomach. Melissa had a look of fear on her face as she rubbed her stomach.
"Daddy - it's back. The pains in my tummy and the headache."
"Is it the same? Haven't you kept regular?
"Not for a whole week. What's going to happen to me?"
By now, Chuck had read every one of his books again. They were unanimous in one respect - you must never administer a laxative to a child with abdominal pains. As to enemas, they ranged from firm disapproval through coy mentions that one might be necessary for severe cases to one older book that discussed the subject with glee and provided line drawings that brought memories back to him.
"Have you tried hard?"
"Real hard. Nothing happened. Am I going to have to have another enema?"
He sighed deeply and Melissa's face fell. She knew that sigh - it was the one daddy always gave when she asked if shots or a visit to the dentist was necessary. She began to panic, visions of Mrs. Finnerty returning to haunt her.
"Daddy. If I *have* to have one, will you do it? You never hurt me."
"Me? I don't think so."
By now, Melissa had fixed on the idea. Daddy was kind and gentle, he protected her, he loved her.
"I won't let anyone else do it."
He was trapped. Her expression indicated the degree of her stubbornness, and Chuck knew just how far that stretched. Of course, she was small enough to be overpowered and held down for a forced enema, but that was too awful to contemplate. He tried a new track.
"I don't have the things to do it."
"They sell them in drugstores. I've seen them. There's all different kinds as well."
Chuck knew when he was beaten.
"OK. What say we get in the car and go buy one?"
That was another mistake. Chuck had never imagined that the color of an enema bag could be of the slightest interest to anyone, but Melissa had strong feelings on the subject of matching and chose one in a disgusting shade of pink.
The pharmacist had watched the proceedings with some amusement and interest - it was not exactly an everyday sight in his shop. When Chuck approached him to pay for it, he inquired quietly.
"Is it for the young lady?"
"Er...yes..."
The pharmacist opened a drawer and produced a plastic bag containing a coil of slim tubing.
"May I suggest a rectal catheter? Much less likely to cause discomfort or damage."
Chuck gazed at it, his memory suddenly refreshed. The bag his mother had used on him had been fitted with such a tube - only three or four millimeters wide at its blunt tip with an eye at the side to let the water through. He could even remember how he had giggled uncontrollably because it tickled like crazy when she put it in. The memory was both fond and a little disturbing - he had really enjoyed that tickly feeling. He dragged himself back to the present.
"Sure. Good idea. I'll take it. And some Vaseline please."
Melissa was insatiably curious on the way home. Her fears had been subordinated to her budding female curiosity.
"What's in the bag, daddy?"
"You'll see. It will make everything nicer for you."
Chuck consulted the old book, Melissa gazing over his shoulder, as he sought the instructions for making up the solution. They seemed to involve the addition of everything from glycerin to probably nitroglycerine and he abandoned them in disgust. Mom had just dunked a bar of soap in the water and stirred it around for a while.
Melissa was completely unconcerned as she pulled her dress over her head and then removed her vest and pants - Chuck was aware that the reservations about nudity were entirely his. She walked into the bathroom and knelt down. Chuck wasn't happy with that - his mom had always made him lie in bed for his enemas.
"Not here, darling. We'll do it like my mom used to do it to me."
He arranged her on the bed and handed her the moth-eared teddy bear.
"Why don't you give teddy a nice cuddle while we get this done?"
It was awesome to have anyone place this degree of trust in him. Melissa did not even look round as he gently parted her cheeks and sought her tiny anus with the thin tip of the catheter.
"It tickles. Daddy - it tickles."
"Told you it made things nicer. Now stop wriggling - this is like trying to thread a needle on a rollercoaster."
Melissa subsided into prolonged giggles and chortles and, during the merriment, Chuck slid the tube in, marveling at how easy it was with a child who was relaxed.
"Ready?"
"It feels real funny. Like it was tickling all of the time!"
"Just relax - I'm going to let a little bit of water in - it won't hurt."
It produced a new volley of giggles from Melissa. Chuck was relatively naïve about children, or he might have recognized the fact that the immature mind does not register erotic stimuli as such but instead typically interprets them as tickles. Melissa was only aware of the fact that it felt both funny and nice as the warm liquid percolated slowly into her rectum. And it tickled.
Chuck started to worry when the bag was almost empty - the book had recommended a pint and a half of liquid for a ten year old, but it had seemed an awful lot to him and he had determined to stop when Melissa started to complain.
"Are you OK, darling? Does it hurt?"
The reply was almost dreamy.
"No - it doesn't hurt. But I think I need to go to the toilet soon."
AT that point the bag gave a tiny gurgle and Chuck realized that it was completely empty. He gently removed the tube.
"All done, honey. Go when you want to."
Melissa rose somewhat unsteadily and tottered into the bathroom from whence the sounds of rushing water and exploding bubbles of gas issued. She finally reappeared, grinning widely, and then rushed to hug Chuck.
"Thank you daddy. I feel wonderful now."
He detached her naked, child's body and handed her a clean pair of pants.
"Put these on, you shameless hussy!"
Melissa giggled again as she pulled them up.
"You're funny, daddy. Every time I take my clothes off you go all red and bashful! I don't mind being undressed in front of you."
"You will. Just wait a couple of years!"
*****
Those words came back to Chuck as he prepared the enema for the thirteen year old Melissa. There had been maybe half a dozen enemas over the past three years, all requested by Melissa, who showed no sign of developing any embarrassment at taking them from him.
She appeared at the bathroom door, unconcerned at showing her small breasts and the developing bush of pubic hair that she had acquired. Melissa had wanted to try the kneeling position a couple of years previously and had expressed herself well satisfied with it - it helped to get the liquid to the right spots. Chuck felt himself blushing again, and Melissa broke into laughter.
"Daddy, you never change! I keep telling you that it doesn't bother me, and you keep on blushing just the same. You're my dad - I should be able to be comfortable with you.
"Yes dear. Let's get on with this, shall we?"
Melissa knelt down with her knees parted slightly. It made her feel strange to be in that position in front of a man - she had not *quite* told the truth when she said she felt comfortable. In actual fact it made her feel daring, almost wanton, to know that someone could see her intimate parts - the same sort of feeling as when she put on her new bikini and enjoyed the stares of the boys at the pool.
She felt the thin tube. It didn't tickle any more - she still did not quite understand why, but it sort of made her curl up inside her own body. Strangely, it also made her think of the boys in their thin Speedos during swimming lessons at school and the giggling discussion in the girls' locker room afterwards as they discussed what they had observed.
Daddy didn't talk much when he gave her an enema nowadays - they were both used to the process and there wasn't much to say. The gorgeous feeling of warm liquid started to percolate through her rectum and an image of her current "boyfriend", a cute freckled boy called Simon, came into her mind. Their relationship was confined to the carrying of books and the holding of hands, but he sure had a cute butt when he was in his Speedos! She began to form a picture of him in her mind, minus the briefs, butt in the air waiting for Melissa to start his enema.
The feelings suddenly intensified and she felt hot all over as her fantasy came into sharp focus. It was another transference, of course - Melissa could not yet imagine herself in the throes of actual sex, and the emotions had been assigned instead to a neutral but intimate action.
Melissa could feel a wetness, and her first though was that the tube must have slipped out - but she could feel that it was still firmly in place. Had she peed herself?
"Finished, honey."
Her father's voice made her jump and she heard the bathroom door close behind him as he left. She released the enema, then gingerly sought the source of the wetness.
It smelled funny - not like pee at all. Her fingers probed, and then she suddenly realized it had come from the other orifice - her vagina was hot and wet. Then she brushed against her clitoris.
Melissa knew all about her anatomy from a couple of tense, excited girls-only lessons at the same time as the boys had been marched off to receive lectures from the coach. It had all seemed very remote and rather frightening - the thought of a large, hairy male organ being thrush into the slim tube that barely coped with a tampon was too awful to consider - and the function of her clitoris had seemed pretty remote as well. Until now.
The most wonderful feeling she had ever experienced spread through her as she gently probed the small lump of flesh. This was what some of the other girls had discussed in excited whispers - this was sex! Her fingers took on a life of their own as they pinched and kneaded, penetrated and rubbed until she fought for breath in the face of the climax that almost overwhelmed her.
****
"Daddy!"
Chuck looked up to see his fifteen year old daughter, clad in underwear that was a million miles away from white cotton vests and pants. The whole week had been building up to this evening, her first major dance, escorted by Roger, the latest in a line of young hopeful males that had infested the house for the past couple of years. At least he was bearable - some of the others had come close to instant death - one for calling him "pops", others for raiding the fridge or keeping Melissa out late. Actually, Chuck rather liked Roger - he was a polite, clean-cut boy whose height made him a promising basketball player. On the negative side, the boy was sixteen, and that meant that Chuck was deprived of the ability to reassure himself of the suitability of various venues on the pretext of providing a ride.
"Yes, honey? What's the problem? Dress OK?"
"I feel sick to my stomach."
Melissa had come a long way in the previous two years. Initial fumbling experiments had given way to more definite behavior. She had discovered that pricks were not actually hairy, that they provided both a means of pleasuring and of controlling a boy. Her own sexuality had grown as well - a climax was now the rule rather than the exception.
But Roger was different to all of the other boys she had dated. In comparison with him, they were mere children. Roger was *the* boy, the one she loved with an all-consuming passion, the nominated taker of her virginity. Melissa had vowed to remain a virgin until she was sixteen, and with only two weeks to go she was finding it hard to keep - the alternative of casually abandoning a promise she had made only to herself three years previously never even occurred to her - until tonight.
The dance was her first adventure into a more adult world of men and women rather than boys and girls. Her dress was daring and very grownup and she could only imagine how Roger would look in a tux. The thought of crowning the evening by becoming a real woman had grown in her mind and crystallized as she took the dress from its tissue paper nest. The result was a major crisis in her mind, that threatened to make her run and hide rather than enjoy the evening. She had sat and quivered with fear, until she had remembered how an enema calmed her down and made her relax.
"You'll be fine, darling."
"No - it's my old problem."
Chuck looked up in surprise.
"Huh? It's at least a year since you had any trouble in that department."
"Daddy, I need an enema."
"Don't be silly, Melissa. Of course you don't. Just take your time and everything will come away."
"I do need one. I can't go if I feel this bad."
Chuck was concerned. Melissa was in a major crisis of some sort - she was obviously working herself up to the stage where she would not be able to go anywhere. He really had little room for maneuver.
"OK, honey. If that's what it takes."
As Melissa undressed, Chuck realized just how much she had developed in the past year or so. She had turned into a woman - pretty at the moment, with the prospect of real beauty in the years to come. He blinked back his tears - she was so like her mother had been.
Her trust in him was touching, thought Chuck, as he slipped the well-used rectal catheter into position and began a slow infusion of warm water. Then he realized with horror that she was showing all of the signs of sexual arousal - swollen lips, flushed skin and a couple of drops of fluid glistening in her pubic hair.
At the same moment, they both heard the unmistakable sound of Roger's voice.
"Hi. Anyone around?"
Chuck and Melissa reacted like schoolkids caught by their parents - for subtly different motives. He hastily removed the tube, and Melissa wailed in her distress as she ran for the toilet. The wretched boy was nearly an hour early!
Chuck composed himself as he ran down to greet Roger, resplendent in his brand-new tux, clasping a box containing a corsage.
"Hi, Roger. You're early."
"I'm sorry Mr. Harris. I've been dressed for hours and I drove around for a long time, then I just had to come here."
Chuck could not suppress a grin - he remembered vividly the awful tension before his first dance date with a girl. Roger was looking around desperately.
"Where's Melissa?"
"Getting ready, son. Women can't be hurried at a time like this."
****
The scene looked very different seen through Roger's eyes.
He could sense an unaccustomed tension in the room. Melissa's father was normally relaxed and affable - a nice guy, easy to talk to - but tonight he seemed to be wound up like a coil spring.
There was a faint odor about him too - a smell of soap and... what *was* that smell?
Roger recognized it with a rush of memory. He was about ten years old, he was in the bathroom, and mom was filling the big red bag - the one that always smelled of...RUBBER! That was the smell!
It took a little longer before the implications sunk in. Soap plus rubber only equaled enema as far as he could think. He had arrived early, Melissa was in her room, her father smelled of enema. Oh heck - could it really be that he had just given her an enema?
Roger felt flushed and confused, but was saved by a call from upstairs.
"Roger can come up now, daddy."
The smell was stronger in her room. Melissa seemed excited, flushed, embarrassed. Roger just *had* to know.
"I need to use the bathroom."
Before Melissa could even open her mouth to object, Roger had darted in. There it was - a dreadful pink color, but definitely an enema bag, hanging from the shower rail, in open view.
Roger remembered to pee, his eyes still fastened on the object, his brain still struggling to believe the evidence of his vision. He zipped up, flushed the toilet, and returned to a distraught Melissa.
"You saw it! Oh god - I'm so embarrassed that I want to die."
He struggled for something to say, but Melissa was in full flow.
"That's it. I'm not going anywhere tonight."
Roger grabbed her and clasped her to him.
"Hey - ease up. It's only an enema bag. I take them all the time - no big deal."
"You do?"
Roger had to keep up the lie. He had been given a few when he was small, but not since his age got into double figures.
"Sure I do. Doesn't everybody?"
Melissa flung herself into his arms and kissed him passionately.
"Oh - I'm so glad you understand. I thought you would laugh at me and tell everybody."
"Aw heck, I wouldn't do that. You're my girl!"
He winced internally - he was trying to forget that there was another enema in the offing for him.
****
The evening was a complete success in terms of a social event, but there was simply no opportunity for the couple to manage more than a few passionate kisses, and even they were interrupted by the less mature members of their peer group. Life settled into the humdrum of school and home - although each parent was happy for them to be alone, it was just too great a risk to indulge in more than furtive massaging through apertures in their garments.
Chuck at last met Susan Chapman, Roger's mother, a divorcee of about his age. She was an impressive lady - a power dresser who had carved out a successful career for herself by sheer hard work. Chuck felt rather intimidated by her - as a CPA he had never been forced into the situation where he depended on thrust and ambition to make his money.
Chuck and Melissa were relaxing at home when they heard the sound of Roger's car. The boy bounded in full of pride and excitement.
"I did it! I got my license!"
Chuck frowned.
"You've been driving Melissa around without a license?"
"Not a *driving* license. A flying license."
He pulled out his wallet with a flourish to display the document, then his face changed to an expression of sheer consternation as a couple of condoms described graceful arcs and landed at Chuck's feet. His face turned brick red as he scrambled to retrieve them
Chuck could not help it. It was every boy's nightmare, but it was just so funny. He burst into laughter as he picked one of them up and handed it back to the boy. Roger was spluttering in his embarrassment.
"Gee, sir, I'm real sorry. I hope you don't think..."
Chuck silenced him with a wave.
"I *don't* think. Not about my daughter's private life. I'm glad to see that you have the sense to avoid risks, though. Now, are you going to show me this license? I didn't know you could be a pilot at sixteen."
"It's not a regular pilot - just for microlites. Mom's going to coach me for my full license next year."
"Susan flies planes?"
"I thought you knew! She hasn't gotten many hours in recently - she's been real busy at work. Can I take Melissa for a flight?"
Melissa was furious.
"You never let on that you were learning to fly! I don't want anything to do with it."
Chuck knew Melissa too well. He knew exactly how to defuse this sort of confrontation.
"Just as well - I don't want you in one of those ridiculous things. They're just aluminum and canvas - dangerous too. Anyone who flies around in a converted lawnmower must be an idiot."
Melissa couldn't let that pass.
"Well, I think Roger is very clever. I'm going for a flight with him and you can't stop me!"
Then she saw the grin on her father's face and leapt on him, pummeling him with her fists.
"You BEAST! You said that deliberately!"
Chuck's resolve wavered that weekend. It was the way one burly guy just lifted his plane up and carried it to the runway on the grass field. How could you trust your life to something that flimsy? Something you could load on top of your car and assemble like a kid's toy?
Susan saw his alarm as she tightened the cables on her machine - it was more substantial and it even had a cabin of sorts.
"They're stronger than they look! Come on - I'll give you a ride first."
His confidence did not increase as Chuck settled himself into the low-slung canvas seat. He was not used to planes that had holes in the floor and windows made of plastic film with zipper round the edges.
"Don't I get a parachute?"
Susan's reply was drowned by the snarl of the small engine as she opened the throttle and the plane began to move in a series of jolts over the uneven surface. Chuck's knuckles went white as he hung on desperately while the contraption bounced into the air and then climbed at an alarming rate into the clear air.
That was when he realized what had been troubling him.
"Hey - this damn thing doesn't have a tail! How the hell does it steer?"
Susan smiled happily - she loved flying.
"Wing warping, silly. Watch!"
His stomach heaved as he saw the wings bend as she pulled on the controls and sent the plane skittering around the sky.
"You want to drive?"
It was surprisingly easy to control the microlite - a forgiving design of positive stability and totally unstallable nature. Susan landed it after the most exhilarating thirty minutes that Chuck could ever remember.
Melissa was raring to go, but Roger made her wait for a short while. He produced a paper package from the car.
"It's your birthday present from me and mom. I thought you would rather have it now - it gets cold up there."
Melissa frantically tore off the wrappings to reveal a padded blue nylon flying suit. She squealed in girlish ecstasy as he pulled his own, identical, suit from the car. Not quite identical.
"Yours has got wings on!"
"That's because I'm a pilot."
"Can't I have some?"
"Not unless you get your license."
Chuck held his breath as the contraption started to move with Roger at the controls and his only daughter strapped in beside him. The thing lifted from the ground and seemed to go up a lot faster.
"Less weight, Chuck - they're only kids. Come and have some coffee."
The kids were gone for what seemed like days, their only contact being short bursts of radio traffic while Chuck steadily worried himself into a decline until they finally bumped down on the grass and rolled to a halt.
Melissa was ecstatic. She reverted to being about twelve, squealing with joy, begging to be allowed to learn to fly, demanding her very own microlite for her sixteenth birthday, howling in histrionic despair when Chuck refused. He had, in fact, been rather captivated with the sport, and if a young kid could learn to fly one of these then it could not be all that hard.
"Tell you what, Melissa, why don't we both take some lessons? There must be someone here who gives instruction."
"Roger can teach me!"
Susan intervened firmly.
"No, Melissa, he can't - he's not licensed to teach, only to fly. I'll give you some lessons if I have time and you can pay one of the other instructors for the rest."
She turned to Chuck.
"You're welcome to use our microlite - you pay for the gas and for any damage. OK?"
She refused all offers of paying the going rate for hiring the plane. Then Chuck had an inspiration.
"Say - why don't I pay you in kind. What about some free tax advice - I specialize in that."
Susan looked straight at him.
"Chuck, if you think I'm going to turn down an offer like that you're sadly mistaken. I'm not that insane. You're on!"
That proved to be the glue that brought the two families together. Chuck would pore over Susan's accounts, working out the best way to minimize her tax liability, while the two kids went to Roger's bedroom and pawed over each other.
It surfaced that Roger was going to race two of the other new pilots. Chuck's eyebrows rose.
"Five hundred miles? Can they go that far?"
"Just about. There's no restriction on landing and refueling, but if they fly really well they can make it on one tank of gas."
"How long will it take?"
"Ten hours plus - depends on the winds and whether or not they have to stop en route."
Melissa was gazing at Roger with adoration.
"I think you're really brave to do a thing like that! Five hundred MILES!"
Tension rose as the day of the race approached. Melissa felt the familiar gut symptoms.
"Daddy - I need an enema."
Chuck shook his head.
"No, Melissa. Not now. No more enemas from me."
She looked at him with a growing coldness in her stomach.
"Why not?"
"It isn't right, honey. You're sixteen now, and things are... different. You're quite able to do it yourself if you really need one."
Melissa was embarrassed - she had been aware of the way the last enema had affected her, but she had not realized that it had shown. She dropped the subject.
****
The evening before the race, Chuck and Melissa visited to wish Roger good luck - and met tension and gloom in the house.
Melissa and Roger vanished to his room, and Chuck looked his question at Susan.
"Oh, Chuck. It's the race. Roger and I talked it over - there's no toilet in a microlite, and most long-distance competitors take an enema before they set out - it even save a couple of pounds in weight. Now it's come to the crunch - he and I are both far to embarrassed to get it done."
"Can't he just do it himself?"
"Not really - it needs a high enema to get everything out and you can't really do that to yourself."
Chuck sighed.
"I've got the opposite problem. Melissa has taken enemas for a lot of years now, but the last time it all got a bit too intense."
He saw the look on Susan's face.
"Hey - nothing happened! I just noticed that she was... getting... you know... excited. So that's the end of her enemas from me."
****
In Roger's bedroom, Melissa listened to his tale of woe.
"I need that enema, but when it came to it, I was bashful and mom was really embarrassed. We just couldn't do it."
Melissa's face hardened.
"I thought you said you got enemas all the time?"
Roger blushed again.
"Maybe I was exaggerating a little bit."
"So, how often do you get them?"
"Well - about every six years."
Melissa did the sum.
"You lied to me! That means the last one was when you were ten years old!"
Roger nodded.
"Sorry. You were so upset that I had to say something to make you feel better."
"You really need this enema?"
"I can't win without it. And there's a lot at stake. There's over a thousand dollars in the pot - winner take all."
Melissa thought hard. There had to be a way.
****
Susan had been deep in thought for a few minutes. She looked up at Chuck.
"There's a way out of this. Why don't we swap kids? Roger really looks up to you - I'm sure he'll let you do it - and I can help Melissa out if she wants."
Chuck was starting to reply that he wasn't too sure about the whole thing, when the door crashed open and the two kids entered in a state of excitement.
"We know how to fix it! Dad can give Roger the enema!"
Chuck looked questioningly at the boy, who nodded.
"Sure, Mr. Harris - it wouldn't embarrass me if it was you who did it."
Chuck found himself in Susan's bathroom, the equipment hanging ready from the aborted episode. He wasn't entirely sure about a high enema, but Susan's whispered instructions indicated that you just used the whole length of the colon tube that was attached to the hose. He looked at Roger.
"Are you sure? You can back out if you want to."
"Sure I'm sure! I'll lose for certain if I don't have this."
"Well... get ready then."
Chuck looked at the naked boy and was impressed - no fat, well defined muscles, clean limbed and well proportioned. Roger seemed to know the drill - he kneeled on the floor and seemed to relax.
"OK, son. Here it comes."
Roger's relaxation changed to total panic as the tube slid into his anus. Not from the enema, but from the fact that his prick shot to attention as a weirdly exciting sensation radiated from the object that was now lodged in place.
Chuck saw the alarm, and looked harder, seeing the rigid cylinder that had suddenly appeared in front of Roger's asshole. It triggered another childhood memory - he had been sitting on the toilet after an enema, playing with his juvenile erection and his mother had chuckled and said something mildly sarcastic about what he was doing. And if it had turned him on when he was still in short pants....
"It's OK, Roger - that usually happens."
Roger turned his head and gazed backwards and upwards.
"Honest?"
"Sure does. It used to happen to me when I was a kid. Nothing to be ashamed of."
The boy sighed with relief.
"Thanks, Mr. Harris. I thought there was something terribly wrong with me!"
"I think maybe you should call me Chuck. 'Mr. Harris' makes me sound like a teacher. Don't worry about a thing - just relax and enjoy."
Chuck performed the enema almost mechanically, feeding in the tube little by little and running the liquid in slowly, his mind racing with newly refreshed memories of his childhood experiences, seeing them now from an adult viewpoint. He must have been a randy little sod, really - he could recall clearly the wonderful feelings that the simple injection of soapy water had produced.
Chuck and Roger were both surprised when the enema was completed. Roger had fallen into a sensual fantasy about Melissa, and the friction as the long tube was withdrawn was just too much - he tried to resist, but it was no good - he came, right there and then.
Chuck saw what had happened and rushed to defuse the situation.
"Well, Roger, that's another half ounce of weight you won't have to carry tomorrow!"
It broke right through Roger's embarrassment. He sniffed, then chuckled, then broke into roars of laughter as he and Chuck hugged each other before the urge to empty his bowels over-rode everything else.
Susan looked up as boy and man returned.
"What was all that laughter about?"
"Man talk."
She grinned and shook her head in tolerant amusement.
"And you talk about women gossiping!"
She looked at Melissa.
"You want to go now?"
Roger's face was a mask of astonishment as Melissa walked out with his mother.
"What's going on, Chuck?"
"Oh - I decided that Melissa was far too old for me to do anything like that to her. Your mom volunteered."
Melissa had never had a high enema, and she discovered that it was an awesome experience - it turned her on like crazy. After what Chuck had said, Susan was expecting that reaction and treated it much as he had with Roger. The conversation turned to other things as Melissa made up for her motherless years and took the opportunity of the intimate occasion to get an adult female's advice and information on love, lust and sex.
After Melissa was finished, the two kids, both now bright-eyed and excited, went into plenary session in Roger's room. Susan raised herself wearily.
"I'd better get everything cleared away."
"I'll give you a hand."
They entered the bathroom and paused, their emotions suddenly intensifying as each realized their feelings for the other. Susan eyed the enema equipment.
"Seems a pity to waste it, now that it's all set up."
Chuck jumped in as she reflected his own thoughts.
"Just what I was thinking!"
"Who's going first?"
"We could take turns."
It was wet and messy, but an incredible amount of fun as they alternately injected small quantities of liquid into each other, moaning and groaning at the sheer sensuality of the process.
Finished, they took a shower together, then forgot all about the kids as they went, hand in hand into the bedroom.
****
Melissa looked at her watch.
"Hey - it's late. I should be getting home."
"What are those two doing anyway?"
They crept along and listened at Susan's door, hearing the exciting and unmistakable sounds of sex coming through it. Melissa looked at Roger.
"Have you still got those rubbers?"
"I sure have. Dare we?"
"What are they going to be able to say about it?"
****
Two alarm clocks sounded in two rooms, triggering panic in each.
"Chuck! What have we done? What about the children?"
He stretched luxuriously.
"I guess they found something to occupy them."
Susan rushed to Roger's room, forcing herself to ignore the fact that there were two bodies in one bed.
"Come on - it's four a.m. - time to get ready for your flight. Good morning, Melissa."
Then she was gone, leaving them giggling.
"See - I told you she couldn't say a thing!"
And did Roger win the race? Of course he did.
