Amys Physical Exam Part 5 - Medical XXX Story

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I shivered. Mom had never given me even half that much. Connected to the bag was a black rubber hose, about 1/2" in diameter, and attached to that (by way of a hard plastic connector) was a long tube that was about 3/4" in diameter at the top, but which tapered to about the thickness of my index finger at the end. Water was dripping from it. I didn't want to look, but couldn't stop myself, as Dr. hung the bag from the hook, unrolled the tubing, and began to coat it with that slimy stuff he used as lubricant (K-Y, it's called). In just a moment he had inserted his two fingers in my bottom, lubricating me as I laid there helpless. Then he began to insert the tube into me (a "colon tube" he called it).

As the tube found its way into my bottom about 6", he opened the clamp and the water began to flow into me. It was warm. It felt good, but it also felt like I could never take all of it. The tube continued to snake up inside me, Dr. Ben adjusting the flow every so often to that the water was just barely flowing. "OOOOoooohhhh!!! OooWWWWwww!!" I whimpered, as the tube entered me deeper and deeper, the water continuing to flow. "Just relax, Amy," Dr. Ben intoned. "This is a large enema, I know, but you'll do fine, and you will feel MUCH better once we're done."

"Oh, Please, Dr. Ben, don't! I-I-It's too much!! I'm already full! I can't take any more!" I was almost screaming by this time, sobbing and whimpering as the water continued to flow, filling me, never stopping, pushing everything out of its way, the tube continuing to go ever deeper into me. Finally the tube was in. Dr. Ben stopped pushing it in. But the water didn't stop. I was gagging and gasping with the pressure. "OOOOoooooHHHHhhhh, Please, Dr. Ben!! Stop!! Please Stop!" I wailed. Instead, Dr. Ben inserted two fingers in my vagina, and began to massage me in there, rubbing my clitoris with his thumb. "There, there, Amy, this will make you feel better!" he announced.

Now I was not only getting an enema from a man, he was also touching me in such an overtly sexual way that I couldn't help but understand that this was indeed intended as a sexual experience. I shuddered. The pain and pressure were incredible. But it also felt good. As Dr. Ben rubbed and massaged me, it actually began to feel almost entirely good. I now understood the wails of anguish that I had heard through the ventilator - the wails that fell off into grunts of pleasure and rhythmic gasps. The pressure and warmth of the enema in my bowels, the invasion of my anus/rectum/colon with the long tube, the massage of my genitals - it was all incredibly sexual, and even though the pain was there, it lessened dramatically as he continued to masturbate me with his large, strong hands. I could do nothing but let him. I could do nothing but yield.

And so I yielded to him - and to orgasm after orgasm as the last of the enema flowed into me. Dr. Ben helped me up, and I ran for the bathroom. I expelled (forever, it seemed). Finally I was done. Dr. Ben watched me as I came out of the bathroom. "Amy, you'll need weekly treatments here at the college," he said. I nodded, transformed from shame to desire. "Yes, Dr. Ben. I certainly will." I received two degrees from that college, and I took a long time to get them. My mother could never understand why I took ten years to get 6 years worth of education. But then I never told her about Dr. Ben. e