Rectal Retrieval

The online help wanted ad provoked my interest the moment I saw it: "Special assistant needed for colonic irrigation clinic serving an exclusively female clientele." I knew what that meant. It meant enemas; one of my great fetishes. And the 'women only' detail was essential for me since I'm a lesbian and find any kind of intimacy, clinical or otherwise, with men distasteful. My love for enemas, giving and receiving them, began five years ago, when I was 25, and traveled to Amsterdam where I met a rather depraved lesbian who taught me the pleasures of the nozzle. When I returned home I found others, like me, who enjoyed enemas. And then one day this led further, led to where a love of enemas often leads, a sexual attraction to what some euphemistically call 'brown showers,' but which in simple language is shit sex. Yes, I'll say it. I love the female shithole, I love putting things in it, and I love seeing stuff come out of it!

I was looking for a job, and this sounded right 'up my alley,' as I said to myself, smiling. Madame Dupont turned out to be a very attractive woman of forty, originally from Paris, and had established her clinic is Los Angeles six months earlier. We talked frankly and she was both delighted to learn that my interest in enemas was not simply clinical and professional. She told me what I was not surprised to learn, which was that many of the women who came to her clinic seeking colonic relief, were anal and rectal fetishists, with a deep love of enemas, and many of them with a love of shit play as well. She couldn't have been happier that I understood this immediately; most job applicants hadn't, she said. And so I was employed and soon became her assistant of choice for special and unusual clients.

Then, this afternoon, such a client came into the clinic, actually three clients. They were Monica, a woman of thirty, maybe a few years older, her much younger sister, Kelly, a sophomore in college, and Kelly's best friend, Felicity. Monica was a chic, stylishly dressed woman, and her sister was an absolute dreamboat, a sleek, luscious nineteen year old on the cusp on womanhood, but not quite there. And the friend, Felicity was every bit as alluring, a gorgeous wisp of thing, the same nineteen as her best friend, Kelly, but somehow rather more girlish in manner.

It was Felicity who had the problem. As Monica explained to Madame Dupont rather haltingly and with a certain measure of embarrassment, it seemed her sister and her sister's girlfriend played a rather naughty and girlish game. They would try to hold in their shit for as long as possible to see who could 'win,' who could hold it in the longest! Sometimes they held it in so long they'd have to give each other enemas in order to be able to get it all out. But this time, apparently, Felicity had gone too far. She had held it in so long that her bowels had become completely impacted. Even an attempt with an enema failed, the enema nozzle immediately becoming clogged with fecal matter. And now they were all here, Felicity in dire need of expert clinical help.

Madame Dupont had been teaching me special techniques of fecal extraction, enemas, and other even more intrusive techniques. And she knew immediately when a client was a fetishist and when she was here strictly for colonic cleansing. Monica and the two teens with her were obviously fetishists and so we prepared for them as we do for such clients.

So as we begin this session, Madame Dupont has Monica and her sister Kelly seated as I stand there in my assistant's outfit, which is nothing more than a little white apron over my naked body, my breasts and bottom exposed. She tells Felicity to completely undress. Felicity blushes, but does what she is told. Madame Dupont runs her hand probingly over the contours of Felicity's normally athletically flat, but now rounded tummy, noting that this rounding is probably due to the excessive bloating of her bowels with accumulated fecal wastes, "... with shit, dear, to be more blunt," she says to Felicity, who blushes deeply upon hearing the word. This condition, she assures Felicity, will be corrected.

I am asked to help position Felicity on an examining table, her legs spread, flexed, and ankles resting on stirrups, exposing vividly her genital and anal regions. Felicity blushes deeply, rather embarrassed to be exposed so "medically" in front of others, including her best friend and her best friend's sister, as well as two strangers.

Madame Dupont asks me to proceed with an initial digital inspection of Felicity's anal passage and lower rectum, and to report back on the state of perceived fecal impaction.

At the clinic, the staff can decide whether to don or not don a rubber glove for rectal procedures, examinations and fecal extractions. I have chosen to "go in" bare-handed since I find this gives me a better sense of contours and textures. And because I also love it that way! So I apply a generous dab of lubricant to Felicity's anus as she blushes again, seeing how everyone's eyes are upon her. I insert a finger into her anus and as soon as that finger makes its way up her anal passage to the start of her rectal cavity, I feel a wall. I know this wall is the very large mass of compacted shit filling her bowels.

"Is young Felicity as full of shit as I suspect she is?" Madame Dupont asks mischievously and this, of course, elicits another blush of excruciating embarrassment from Felicity.

"Rather full," I say.

"What do you suggest, Carole?" she asks.

"I would begin by administering a 1 liter olive oil enema to help loosen the impacted fecal mass from her rectal walls. And then we can proceed with mechanical and manual removal, followed by a final cleansing enema to get out any debris remaining behind."

"Very good, I approve of this approach, Carole. Please proceed."

I remove my finger from Felicity's anus and on the fingertip is a very vivid brown dab of Felicity's shit, which I show everyone. Monica, especially gazes at my finger, marveling at the sight. Felicity herself only groans in humiliation as her brown wastes are exposed to others. The poor thing hardly realizes this is merely the start of much more extravagant procedures. I wipe the dab of shit on my white apron, streaking it brown. The aprons are used only once, and Madame Dupont encourages the use of aprons for wiping soiled fingers and hands, knowing that with all the shit and enemas those aprons inevitably become profoundly soiled.

I get a rubber enema bag, and attach a big black nozzle with a large hole at its tip, a hole that will not clog immediately with fecal debris. I fill it with exactly 1 liter of already warmed olive oil and hang it from the hook of a stainless steel stand I roll to the side of the examining table. Felicity's anus has already been well lubricated, so now I insert the nozzle as Felicity squirms somewhat at its intrusion.

"Perhaps for her own good we should bind the patient's wrists since the procedures to follow may be quite extreme," Madame Dupont suggests, and so I now attach cuffs to Felicity's wrists, stretch out her arms, and attach the cuffs to rings in the wall above the examining table. I also secure a second set of cuffs binding her ankles to the stirrups.

I then release the clamp on the enema hose and the enema begins to flow into Felicity's bowels. She winces as she feels the oil injected into her already overfilled and overburdened rectum. We all watch in pleased silence as the contents of the bag empty into Felicity's bowels.

"Oh my god! I feel so full!" she stutters, biting her lip, blushing.

"Soon she'll be feeling much better, dear," Madame Dupont assures her.

After the enema empties we allow it to remain inside Felicity so it can do its work, softening the tightly packed shit inside her, making it more easily detachable from her rectal walls.

"Oh no, I'm sorry!" Felicity blurts out, blushing, "but the pressure is so intense inside that I just feel I must urinate."

Madame Dupont smiles reassuringly.

"Don't worry, dear. We provide deluxe services here. If you feel the need to urinate at any point, go right ahead. Carole? Will you show Felicity where she can urinate."

I smile, well aware of our 'special' services as I now lower my face between Felicity's legs and open my lips right over Felicity's pretty pink and glossy young vulva.

"Go right ahead, Felicity," Madame Dupont urges as Felicity lets go, shooting a powerful stream of warm salty urine into my open mouth as I swallow every drop of the briny excretion.

As the olive oil enema continues to gush into her while she urinates, she feels a sharp spasm, a cramp, from the ever increasing pressure in her bowels. And this causes Felicity to squirm, making her urinary stream direct away from my open mouth momentarily, splashing the hot urine all over my face, my hair, my breasts, and over my apron, leaving wet yellow streaks which now mix with the brown residue deposited from the earlier wiping. I note how keenly Monica gazes at me as her sister's pretty friend groans with cramps, peeing uncontrollably as I continue to administer the olive oil enema.

Finally Felicity's urination fades to a trickle as I take a last swallow of her golden nectar and note that the enema bag is finally empty, Felicity having taken the full contents. We're all aware how spectacularly bloated and under what extreme pressure her bowels must be, now filled not only with accumulated fecal wastes, but with the litre of olive oil as well.

The oil however will have the beneficial effect of loosening and, ultimately helping me to extract the impacted shit clogging her rectum.

"I suggest she use the de-impactor first," Madame Dupont suggests.

Madame Dupont has invented a device intended to help remove a large, massive bolus of fecal matter, of compressed shit, which stubbornly fills the bowels and, like sticky clay, adheres to the rectal walls, making it very difficult or even impossible for the impacted subject to evacuate. Young Felicity -- this poor, pretty teen girl is one such unfortunate subject.

The device is shaped like a sort of spatula with a flexible rubber handle and a nearly flat, flexible rubber spoon-like scraper. I now add more lubricant to Felicity's anus and cover the device with lubricant as well. And then I carefully insert it into Felicity's anus and up into her rectum, the poor dear wincing and biting her tongue, squirming as cramps overwhelm her, wondering how the procedure of extraction will unfold.

The olive oil has helped lubricate her bowels and the compacted mass of shit filling her rectum, and what happens now is that I wedge the "spatula" between her rectal walls and the mass, helping detach it from those walls so it can be more easily broken up and removed. It is a slow and careful process, requiring delicacy, since not only must the large and dense clump of shit be loosened from the sides of her rectum, but I must get it in deep and carefully maneuver around the mass to detach it from the upper part of her rectum. This takes some doing as Felicity endures the invasive intrusion, tugging at her bonds with a strong measure of discomfort and certainly with embarrassment, as she continues blushing. But also, as we can all tell from what the odd but charming expression on her face reveals, a certain measure of arousal as well.

"I believe the shit crammed inside this cutie pie has been sufficiently loosened, Madame Dupont," I say with a chuckle, Felicity looking right at me and blushing again.

"Very good," she replies with rather a smirk, "now she can finally get to the business of removing all that shit from the poor girl's bowels."

Every time Felicity hears the word 'shit' referring to what fills her, she blushes an even deeper shade of pink, something the savvy Madame Dupont can see and teasingly exploit.

I now remove the enema nozzle from inside Felicity's ass and, to no one's surprise, much of the nozzle is caked brown with Felicity's shit. I lift the bottom of my apron, exposing my pussy for a moment -- everyone of course looking down to have a peek at my unshaved cunt -- and wipe off the shitty nozzle with the bottom of the apron, adding to its soiled state.

"Time to proceed with the manual removal," Madame Dupont says as I now move to the next stage. I reach for a large jar of lubricant and insert my full hand into the thick white grease, slapping a big dab between Felicity's cheeks, then dipping my hand in again to cover it with even more lubricant.

Now, very slowly, I insert my hand into Felicity's rectum. Of course this dramatic and necessarily forceful intrusion is not easy to endure and again reminds us all why it was necessary to bind Felicity's wrists and ankles so that she did not recoil from the procedure. Now, with my hand deep inside her rectum, I can feel that the large mass of fecal matter -- "your shit, baby," as I teasingly tell her as I probe -- has been more or less detached from her rectal walls. The mass is dense and clay-like but now also oily and somewhat softened from the warm olive oil enema. And so I proceed with the first step of removal, scooping up a handful of her wastes and carefully extruding it, pulling my hand, filled with her shit, from her rectum. Kelly and her sister watch closely, with great intrigue.

I slap the big mound of shit down on a stainless steel tray as Kelly looks down at the dense brown mass with mesmerized eyes, Madame Dupont, of course noticing.

The delighted and aroused expression on Kelly's face is so vivid that her sister needs to explain to Madame Dupont.

"My little sister seems inordinately attracted to fecal wastes," she tells her.

"Well maybe she gets that love of shit from her you," Madame Dupont perceptively and bluntly notes as Monica blushes with excruciating embarrassment, knowing full well that Madame Dupont has gotten it exactly right.

"Yep. Me and Felicity sometimes like to play a game we call 'who poops first' " Kelly explains to Madame Dupont. And then tells her that the game consists of her and Felicity sometimes taking a laxative or just waiting until they both have intense needs to shit and then competing to see who can hold her shit longer until the loser finally is forced to evacuate her wastes into her panties, the other then inevitably following.

"Well dear, we have no need for Felicity's shit here. Our job is simply to help remove it from Felicity's impacted bowels. So she are free to have it," Madame Dupont says.

"Goody!" Kelly coos in a girlish, sing-song voice.

"My little sister can be a very dirty and lewd little girl, Madame Dupont," Monica explains.

"I like lewd and dirty girls, and so does Carole," Madame Dupont smirks and then looks right at Kelly, "please help herself, dear."

To her sister's immense shock and everyone else's amazement, Kelly now tears off her clothes, exposing her youthful, athletic body with no shame whatsoever. She reaches over and digs into the mound of Felicity's warm shit and happily starts smearing it over her tender firm breasts. We all watch the spectacle with awe, Monica betraying immense shock at this outrageous behavior of her sister's, as well a subdued but very real arousal.

The act and the image are so stunning that everyone almost loses sight of me wiping my completely shit-covered hand on my apron, adding to its soiled quality, the apron now almost as brown as it is white.

"Look, sis," Kelly says as she watches me wipe the shit off on my apron as she, at the same time, spreads it over her breasts,"me and Carole both love shit, see! We love to make ourselves dirty. Almost as much as she do, sis."

The teasing, naughty smile on her face is priceless

Madame Dupont gazes right into Monica's eyes and smiles knowingly, wryly Monica, once again, blushes with the deepest embarrassment, almost as aroused as she is ashamed at this exposure of her deepest longings and lusts.

"Maybe young Kelly would like to assist you with the remainder of the fecal extraction?" Madame Dupont suggests to me with a sly smile.

"Would you, Kelly?" I ask, turning to her, "would she like to help me remove the rest of the shit from Felicity's bowels?

Kelly's bright eyes sparkle with sheer delight as her sister's jaw drops in awed astonishment at this suggestion of Madame Dupont's. Kelly's hands and breasts are covered with Felicity's shit; my own hand, to the wrist, is caked with that same shit and my apron utterly soiled with both Felicity's shit and her urine. How far will this go, I can see Monica wondering, bedazzled by it all.

"I'd love to!" Kelly cries out with youthful glee, then turns to her sister. "I'm going to get to help, sis! I'm going to help clean out Felicity's rectum. My sister is always talking about how important it is to attend to one's rectum and its contents. God knows, you've helped me enough to attend to mine, sis. Now I get to help Felicity."

Monica blushes, embarrassed by such intimate, utterly unabashed disclosures by her sister as we all gaze at Monica with knowing smiles, even Felicity, the strapped-down "patient."

"Is that true, Monica?" Madame Dupont asks with a wry smile and with a creamy voice edged with teasing mockery, "are you inordinately concerned with rectal care and rectal contents?"

All eyes focused on Monica, the attention of everyone is turned her way. She blushes with renewed embarrassment, feeling humiliated by this public disclosure of what she feels are very private and intimate concerns involving her and her sister.

"Oh yes!" Kelly cries out gleefully, her youthful voice a sing-song, "Monica just loves shit and she loves playing with hers and with mine. She's always poking her fingers deep inside my poophole to see what I've got up there. And she got me to do the same to hers. Isn't that right, sis?"

"And you love every minute of it, dear," Monica feel she needs to remind her sister.

"Yes I do," she admits, "and now I'm going to get to do even more. I'm going to get to do what Carole just did, stick my whole hand up Felicity's bowels and help pull out her shit. You've given me plenty of enemas and laxatives, sis, but you've never done what I've just seen Carole do to help Felicity."

"Maybe after today, I will," Monica says, releasing some of her embarrassment, as everyone laughs.

"Okay, Kelly, dig in please," I say, gesturing in the direction of Felicity's now very vividly messy shithole, gapingly open from my first probing and extraction.

Kelly steps up, eyes sparkling, big smile on her face, and looks down at her girlfriend with a mix of tenderness and mischief, even a slight trace of what could be sadism.

"Like this?" Kelly says with a girlishly wicked smile as she slides all five of her fingers into the brown, smudged opening, her hand following. With the heavy lubrication and the earlier olive oil enema, Felicity is well prepared, even for something as invasive as a whole hand digging deep into her bowels.

Everyone watches closely as Kelly digs in, Felicity's brown, soiled sphincter now clenching Kelly's wrist, Felicity squirming and tugging at her bonds with the renewed intrusion.

"I think you may have gotten it all," Kelly says, looking over to me, her wrist visibly twisting inside the open sphincter, her hand no doubt probing inside, 'excavating' for more shit.

"I believe you need to go further inside," I tell Kelly, grabbing hold of her forearm and urging her to work her hand in deeper, knowing that though I scooped up and extracted a nice handful from Felicity's lower rectum, there is sure to be much more deeper in her bowels.

And so Kelly forces her hand in deeper, past her wrist, her face suddenly lighting up with glee as though she's made some wonderful discovery.