CHAPTER 3 -- ACCIDENTAL BONDAGE
Rachelle turns the bathroom light off and plops on the toilet. She would dearly love to expel the remainder of the enema fluid but the inner nozzle ball still plugs her rear end. Feeling between her legs, she tugs at it. The object with its hard inflated ball is like a grapefruit inside her, there is no moving it. Alone in the darkness, she lifts her feet onto the toilet seat, puts her head on her knees, and groans in her pain and desperation. This is way worse than when I came here.
Outside the door, tense nurses cluster, looking one to the other with What can we do? expressions. The wrenching sounds coming under the door pierce them through. A wail of feminine anguish echoes from the locked bathroom.
Rachelle grips her knees hard, tightening her body into the familiar small, safe place she fled to as a girl. Her belly drips ultrasound gel, rivulets of it run down her bald crotch. Her rear end is coated with the same slippery gel, plus white enema solution that flooded out before the broken nozzle plugged her again.
At the exact moment when it becomes too late, the lush naked blonde girl becomes aware that the toilet seat is sliding up around her ladylike buttocks. With a shusshing, slidey sound, the toilet seat says 'Yummie' and slurps her down into the can.
Rachelle screeches forlornly.
She tries to lower her legs but they won't reach the floor. Nope. Her hips are wedged in tight. Her bootie slides downward another slippery inch. Startled, the sweet little lady stops herself with both hands. The toilet seat has a fierce grip on her feminine hips. It hurts. The seat of her womanly tushie is plunged into the cold water in the bowl of the white hospital toilet.
Rachelle's shriek of pain and fear pierces the door.
"Help! I'm stuck in the toilet seat! Oh god it hurts hurry get someone please!"
Pounding and shouting outside the door. "It's locked!"
Rachelle screeches. "I can't even get up! Help! Call someone."
Jakko is 80 feet away in the men's bathroom, trying vainly to clean himself up. He needs to find another set of scrubs, but doesn't want to go downstairs to his locker looking like this! Worse, his straining erection makes a tent in the front of his spattered scrub pants. He feels like a naughty little kid looking in his cousin's panties drawer, caught in jizz-stained pyjamas. But the fierce adult in him knows that someone will pay dearly for this embarrassment.
Jakko's phone whistles. He groans. He's going to ignore it, fuck them all. He scrubs at his pants with a wad of paper towels.
The phone won't quit. The caller ID is a nurse he works with. He picks up.
"Mr. Jakko, there's a woman locked in the GI surgery restroom. She's stuck in the toilet seat."
"Call the janitor," Jakko snarls.
"No! You are closest. And you've already seen! You have the master key, get back here stat!"
Grumbling, Jakko throws the wad of paper towels on the floor and hurries out.
Fortunately, the lights are still low in the GI theatre, no one notices the tent that points straight ahead of him, all eyes are on the locked bathroom door.
"Out of the way," Jakko orders.
"We'll help," Nadine says.
"No you won't. You're the reason she's in this fix. All you twats stand back."
Shocked and humiliated, the nurses for once do as they're told. Using his key, Jakko quickly gains entry to the bathroom, slams the door, clicks the lock. It is pitch dark inside. Rachelle stops wailing long enough to ask who is there.
"It's me. Frank Jakko. What's the problem?"
Rachelle's only sound is a sharp intake of breath. "Don't turn on the light!" She pleads.
"Com'on lass, we don't have all night! Tell me what you need."
"I am fuck in the stucking toilet!"
Jakko laughs from his belly. After a moment she laughs too, although in her somewhat compressed position.
