The Doctor's Little Girl by Alex Reynolds Page A

he asked sternly.
    Molly nodded enthusiastically. “Yes,” she squeaked out. Andrew smiled and then came around and gently removed the thermometer from her bottom hole.
    “Yes, what?” he prompted.
    “Yes, I’ve learned my lesson,” Molly whimpered, fidgeting on the table.
    “Yes, sir?” the doctor asked.
    Molly meekly nodded.
    “I’m going to do one more thing to reinforce this lesson, Molly,” Andrew told her. He took her by the hand and guided her into the small restroom that was attached to the exam room.
    Molly felt confused about what was happening. She was hoping he wasn’t going to make her pee in a cup. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to use the toilet with someone watching her.
    Andrew opened a cabinet above the toilet and pulled out a red rubber bag with a nozzle attached. Molly realized what it was, and her eyes widened with fear.
    “Have you ever received an enema before?” he asked, talking in his doctor voice that was calm and professional.
    Molly shook her head no. She had definitely not. The idea of it alone made her feel like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.
    “This is what’s going to happen now, Molly,” Andrew explained, still in doctor voice. “I’m going to fill this bag with warm water, then I’m going to hang it from this hook.” He pointed to a metal hook that hung off the far wall, the kind of thing Molly imagined was for IVs, but she guessed that it wouldn’t make sense for someone to have an IV rack that didn’t move in the bathroom. “I’m going to insert this nozzle into your anus,” he said. Molly crinkled her nose at the clinical word. “Then, I’m going to turn this lever to open the bag. That will allow the water to flow through the tube and into your bottom. The water will make you feel full, and will make you need to go to the toilet. You’re going to stay in position and hold the water for five minutes. If you complain or protest about it, I will make it longer. Then, you’ll sit on the toilet and expel it, and you can go back to work. Do you understand?”
    Molly’s eyes were like dinner plates. Of all the things that Dr. Andrew had done to her to date, this was the one that made her the most nervous. How would it feel to have water inside her like that? Would it hurt? She looked at him nervously, clearly unsure about it.
    “But I’m really sorry, Dr. Harrington,” she protested.
    “You’re whining,” was his only response.
    Molly chewed her lip. “I learned my lesson.”
    “The fact that you’re arguing with me now proves to me that you didn’t,” he said sternly, then his tone took on a more comforting air. “You’ll be fine, Molly,” the doctor assured her. “It will be a little unusual feeling, but it won’t hurt.”
    Molly knew how it would feel, though: humiliating. “Now, get on all fours on the floor, like you did on the table when I took your temperature, knees nicely spaced.”
    Molly hesitantly did as she was told, feeling the cold tile under her hands and knees.
    “Good girl,” Dr. Harrington told her.
    She could hear him filling the bag with water. It seemed to run forever, and the thought of all that water going inside her made her fill with butterflies. Then she heard him hanging the bag on the hook, and she whimpered. Next, she felt his gloved finger rubbing cold lubricant into her bottom hole. She did her best not to tense up against it.
    The feeling of the nozzle being inserted in her bottom was not much different than the thermometer, although it was softer and warmer, since it was plastic, not glass. She wiggled a little bit once he put it in, but a sharp slap on her bottom froze her in place. She was more concerned with the idea that someone could have heard the sound than the pain.
    “You need to cooperate,” Andrew reminded her, “if you want to have to hold your enema for only five minutes.”
    Molly blushed.
    “I want you to lower your upper body all the way to floor,” the doctor