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We resumed walking. At one point on the wall we came across a glass case. Inside, instead of fire equipment or medical supplies was a cane and a short riding crop. There could be no doubt as to what emergencies the implements were meant to address.
Another few steps and we found ourselves adjacent another watertight door. Just as Nurse Inga reached for the large metal handle it opened from the inside. There stood the large dour nurse who had taken my clothing.
“Just finishing, Inga. Got an eight-monther who needed a nice high colonic. She’ll be better behaved now.”
The large woman laughed. It was a diabolical laugh. Expressing a degree of enjoyment, which frightened me.
“Come dear. Back to the stall.”
The nurse stepped aside and this astonishingly rotund pregnant girl came through the doorway. With her plump belly she gingerly stepped over the high threshold. She was naked like me only resting on top of her shoulders was a large block of plastic which not only encased her neck but also served to immobilize her hands well out to the sides and somewhat behind her shoulders. This position forced her arms back and thrust forward the most amazing set of mammary glands I had ever seen. Nipples the size of silver dollars, it was evident from the erythematic appearance that someone or something had been abrading the soft sensitive flesh. The front of her head was shaved. Some hair in the rear of the head remained unseen but apparently draped down her back.
The girl appeared slightly older than me and did not acknowledge my presence. Instead she obediently kept her face turned to the dour nurse seeming to seek direction and looking at her uniformed guardian with newly found admiration. Whether it was feigned, I could not know.
The large nurse followed her into the hall and turned away in the opposite direction. The girl followed, waddling under the weight of her expansive belly. I noted a number of odd things that I would soon come to better understand.
On the girl’s right naked buttock was a large number ‘11'. It appeared to be a tattoo, later I learned it was indelible ink.
The section of hair, which escaped the razor, was drawn back into a hollow wooden cylinder where it was securely entwined.
But what was most distressing was the plastic bag filled with fluid, which hung from the back of her plastic yoke. A tube ran from the bottom, down her spine and disappeared into her anus.
I watched in awe as the duo departed.
“From the fifth month onward, Dr. Helga likes to ensure all the girls obtain proper nutrition. Intra rectally, Alice is receiving a wonderfully formulated combination of protein, calcium, vitamins and hormones. Her resulting prolactin level is incredible. One of our best producers, although occasionally a little cantankerous.”
I dared not speak and ask for clarification. There were too many questions and based on what Nurse Inga told me. I would have much time to learn the answers.
We stepped through the open door into a large washroom.
It appeared to be the ship’s laundry room at one point and I supposed years before, when the vessel was used for luxury cruises, the daily requirements for the washing of towels and linens was vast. Now, for what other purpose it was used I would soon find out.
I was given a hint at my late afternoon ordeal when Nurse Inga led me to long and low trough and directed me to straddle it. As I did so, I looked up to see a plastic dome on the ceiling identical to that in the examination room.
The young nurse then disappeared into an adjoining room for a moment. When she returned the lower portion of her white cloth uniform had been discarded. In its place was a simple apron of white latex, which in the rear failed to completely cover her buttocks. Overtime, I came to learn this rather revealing garment was the standard uniform worn by the nurses when ‘working a girl’.
“I’ll need a urine sample and I’m sure your bladder needs to be emptied. Squat. Keep your hands on your head. I’ll get a beaker.”
So, in the middle of the large room, Dr. Helga’s patients were expected to do their business. And under the close supervision of a nurse and under the lens of an invasive camera!
I bent at the knees and began to push with the muscles of my abdomen. T
his was going to be difficult, I remembered thinking. Particularly with the perky young nurse closely observing. And then she stooped next to me, parted my labia with her left hand and held a beaker under me with her right. And she thought she was assisting...
Chapter Five
So. Dr. Helga was having me for dinner.
I sat on a dining table in a rather large room. Before Dr. Helga entered I was blindfolded and told to remain motionless. My feet and calves dangled over the edge and my ankles were secured under the table in a manner, which forced apart my legs. When a waitress came along, I felt a plate placed between my thighs. The edge brushed against my outer labia. It was cold. My body eventually warmed it.
Nurse Inga had spent the remainder of the afternoon in the washroom carefully measuring and recording various parts of my anatomy. I soon learned one reason was to fit me into the odd plastic yoke similar to that I had seen on the girl with Nurse Sourpuss.
It was surprisingly comfortable, designed to snugly fit about my neck and lock closed. The main function was to hold my hands well out to the sides. With my elbows bent downwards, my hands were held upwards at the ends of the yoke. This was accomplished by simply encircling the knuckles of each thumb with a thin but strong strip of plastic (I had seen similar strips used in place of handcuffs) and attaching such to the yoke.
Thus, no longer did I need to be reminded to keep my hands on my head. I could not move them at all.
The yoke was cleverly designed so that the position of my hands could be adjusted. Nurse Inga initially demonstrated this feature by pushing the two ends of the yoke back. This forced back my arms and hands and served two purposes. One was that my breasts were thrust forward in a most obscene manner, a sight that seemed to amuse Nurse Inga to no end. The other was that, as my arms moved back, various ligaments and muscles stretched, slowly increasing the level of discomfort to the point of absolute torment.
Nurse Inga had locked the yoke in a most extreme position, set well back she allowed the anguish to slowly build. As tears formed, she admonished.
