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The Doctor ordered her to lay down, and affixed a glass partition at her waist, projected on it was a view of her from several angles. She saw as well as felt the application of slippery petrolatum to her anus.
‘You ate quite a lot before coming here, didn’t you?’
She’d been stuffed full, in fact, her belly still hard and distended from all of the mostly rich and cream-soaked food. It was to help her feel better before sending her off to hospital, and on the Doctor’s orders she’d been fed nothing but cake and milk for the entire nychthemeron before arriving, to make sure her bowels would be as stuffed as her stomach, and she would be desperate by the time her enema was through being administered. The maximum amount of relieved sensation would ensure she would not protest whatever came after.
‘Now, we give all our patients enemas of four quarts from the moment they arrive.’
She watched as the Doctor rubbed her anus with his gloved fingers, and made her fundament open up, until it greedily swallowed up the nozzle, which emerged from the middle of a glass cylinder.
‘I’m going to just inflate the end of this...’
She felt it expanding inside her in pulses, and couldn’t help but groan at the discomfort. Her guts already felt tight and sore.
‘And now we’re going to seal you into the cylinder nice and tight.’
She was forced to watch her own anus as the machine sucked it, the flesh swelling to fill the vacuum, sluttishly shiny from the jelly, and only getting bigger, feeling painfully tight. She would have squirmed madly, but she was tightly held down. The suction kept her anus from even being able to tense, speared as it was on the stiff neck of the nozzle. The Doctor ignored her whimpering and carrying on.
‘And now, we’ll start your enema.’
As the warm solution started flowing into her, she felt like she was fit to burst, and thrashed as much as she could, tossing her head from side to side, and screaming, until her throat hurt and her belly was starting to press against the glass. The doctor ignored her screaming, and she watched as he pressed her belly down, making sure it didn’t wedge into the partition as it began to expand. After a while, she suspected this was a lot more than four quarts, and the pressure was tremendous. With a quavering voice, she asked if they were nearly done.
‘Oh no, only half. You must be quite full of toxins, if you are so desperate.’
By the time she was through, her belly was gurgling in protest, which from her face (and moans) accompanied painful cramps; the solution did tend to cause that, but it was for the best. The Doctor started removing the hair between her legs, knowing she wouldn’t notice, and began to attach key points of her vulva to drips of glucose: her clit, its hood, her labia, and her mons itself. Her vulva was huge, red, and probably felt like it would burst, by the time he was through with her.
Her entire lower half felt distended and heavy—and, more importantly, sensitive to the very air. After removing the last intradermal needle, he began to rub the area with lubricant, and she began to whimper in distress at the conflicting sensations of pleasure and pain, which only increased as the glucose continued to swell her soft tissues. He stopped and removed the enema nozzle, carefully breaking the vacuum seal. Her anus was bright pink, though not yet red, and too swollen to do more than twitch futilely. He attached another needle and swelled it even further, until it was admirably smooth, and the only indication of the opening was a slit in the middle, giving her the look of two vulvas—one admittedly less well-developed than the other.
‘Look at how beautiful you are,’ he said, as he stroked her. ‘Fat and ripe and closed up in modesty.’ He patted her, ‘such a good girl, see how calm you’ve gotten?’ for she’d stopped being able to scream some time ago. He took off his gloves, and set a piston directly over the apex of her abdomen. ‘We’re going to make sure the treatment reaches every inch of your poor bowels, so it can do the most good.’
She watched as the cylinder came down, a small protrusion in the centre fitting into her navel. It pumped up and down, sloshing the contents of her belly horribly, making her cramping belly spasm in distress. All the while, she watched the doctor stroking and patting her unnaturally infused sex.
‘Look at your body, swelling healthfully with blood already.’ He slid a finger down between her labia, just barely reaching the entrance to her vagina. ‘I think we’ll keep the agitation at the full ten minutes, just the same.’
For ten minutes, she could do nothing but watch in morbid fascination as her vulva and anus swelled bigger, her cramps almost unbearable, until she gave up on dignity out of desperation, and pushed. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes, and was unable to help her body pushing again, and again, in regular rhythm. The doctor praised her, saying she was improving already from the treatment, and she only watched as her anus was petted, twitching but unable to open even a fraction.
The pain became strangely transcendent, as she gave herself over to it with abandon, pushing and straining and crying out, all with the surety that no matter what, it would not come out. By the end of it, she was exhausted, but satisfyingly so, perspiring lightly, almost liking the way her body was heavy and swollen and tight, below the waist.
‘Nice and tired, aren’t we?’ he asked, beginning to focus on just her anus, rubbing it in circles. ‘Wasn’t that good exercise?’ He slowly worked more slick jelly onto her, adding squeezes and presses to his stroking. It was shiver-inducingly wonderful, and she realised her cramps had loosened, her belly still feeling full to bursting, but no longer painful. Guiltily, she wanted him to keep rubbing her anus forever, it felt so good. Better than anything in the world. When he began working inside the slit her opening had become, she couldn’t help moaning wantonly.
‘That’s it...’ he murmured, working his finger in and out of her, ‘that’s it, good girl...’ He inserted the dilator, and was pleased at her groan of helpless pleasure at the stretch, knowing the surface sensation was driving her slowly out of her mind. She’d get addicted to anal stimulation in short order, the way she was responding.
He emptied her thoroughly, and sent her to her room, with strict orders to both wash herself and not masturbate, knowing full well there were a number of highly re-purposeable objects d’art in her room, and that she would likely feel horribly empty, and be thinking only of the way he’d made her look, the friction and jostling as she attempted to walk without making her body stroke itself, the caress of her petticoats on her over-sensitised parts, and the additional swelling as she grew more and more aroused.
She’d be absolutely fixated by lunch, and would likely eat extremely well owing to subconsciously craving that fullness again, and by the time supper rolled around, she would have determined to stuff herself even more, out of carnal frustration as the swelling of her tissues began to wane ever so slightly. They’d offer to spank her then, to restore the swelling. She would, naturally, agree, and they would wet her with oil, stuff her with peeled ginger root, and smack her with a light strap, only hard enough to make her anus and vulva jiggle and sting, her body unable to tense because of the thorough figging. She would go to bed throbbing, her stomach gurgling and aching from all the rich food, and when morning came she would go through it all again, until she was nice and fat and could think of nothing else but her greedy anus and her throbbing vulva.
On her wedding night she would redirect her husband to her anus, and the resulting stimulation would cause her to become insatiable; and then, the next bit of fun (for the Doctor) began, when the husband sought an increase to his own form, to keep up with his wife, lest she turn to clockwork whores and their tireless charms.
Humans were so easy to manipulate.