By El Jefe
Joan marched down the hall as ordered with the other two new girls. They stopped in front of her pod – her new home for the next two years.
Joan was in reform school, for, well for skipping school far more than any young lady should. Most kids get the message when hauled into family court and told just what they faced by the judge. Joan was one of the few who either didn’t understand how much trouble they were in or didn’t care. Joan most definitely fit the latter group.
She had been in JDC before, but this had been a real drag, a full two weeks before they shipped her off to reform school. She really didn’t know what she was getting into, but she knew that if it was anything like JDC that it would suck, and that’s all she cared about. At the new institution, the only way she could cut class was to go over the wall, and that was damned difficult!
Most of her first two days had been spent getting poked and prodded and asked about a million stupid questions by the shrinks and the social workers. And tests – she hated tests, even though she usually did OK on them. They made her take a shower with all the other new arrivals. She’d gotten used to the showers and strip searches at JDC, even though she only got stripped once each time she’d been taken there. They’d explained the routine to her enough that she knew that she’d be in class for several hours a day, and then on some work assignment for several more hours, leaving little free time. She had to shower once a week (which she thought was gross, why wouldn’t anyone want to shower more often than that?) She also knew she had to follow the orders of the matrons and teachers, even if they all were a bunch of bitches (at least in her mind).
So, Joan was a little nervous when being escorted to her pod for the first time, but more because she was afraid she’d be stuck with her pod mates for some time than because she was afraid of being incarcerated. They stopped in front of a big sliding door with a big glass window looking into her pod. Inside, she could see bare walls, some concrete picnic tables attached to the floor, three toilets on the far wall, some bunk beds off to her left, and her new pod mates, most of whom seemed to be working on homework or otherwise just idly passing the time. The matron checked the wristbands on the new arrivals to verify that she had the right girls at the right pod, and signaled for the guard in the control room to open the door. When it opened, she led them in and assigned them to a bunk. All three of the new girls got top berths.
After that, Joan got into a conversation with the girl who had the bunk underneath her. She reminded Joan of Karen, her best friend on the outside, a leggy blond with wavy hair and a turned-up nose. This girl was named Ashley, and she quickly figured out that Joan had never been to reform school, and that she’d be staying for two years…4 months after Ashley was due to get out. Ashley wasn’t terribly talkative, advising Joan only to “don’t give me any shit, don’t give the guards more shit than their willing to take, and to follow my lead tomorrow night”. Ashley looked over Joan’s body like a cut of meat at the grocery store, which took Joan aback. She wondered if her bunk mate was gay, but didn’t say anything.
When she asked, “What happens tomorrow night?”, her question was met with only, “You’ll find out soon enough…but you better get used to it, ‘cause you get it every Saturday night”. Joan discreetly tried to find out what “it” was, but the other girls either didn’t want to talk about it or told her to “Just do what you’re told and you’ll be OK”. She tried the other new girls, and found out they hadn’t done any better.
Lights-out was early and wake-up was at 4:30 am. Joan was used to that since that had been the schedule at JDC and at her first two days at reform school. She hated using the can in front of all the other girls, but resigned herself to that fate for the next 24 months. Saturday was a “work day”, meaning that there was no class but a full 10 hours of field work (and field work it was, hoeing weeds in the hot sun). There were plenty of water breaks, and she got to sit down for lunch, but for a girl who wasn’t used to anything more strenuous than mowing her parent’s lawn and the occasional game of volleyball, it was hard work. She was tired, sweaty, and ready to just crash in her bunk when she got back to the pod.
She stripped down to her underwear, crawled up to her bunk, and did just that. She cursed herself, they’d be serving food soon and she’d just have to get down. She dozed off anyway, and was surprised that nobody called her for nearly an hour.
Joan knew somebody had yelled something, but she’d missed it because she was asleep. She awoke to groaning from her pod mates, who seemed to be all stripping down to their skin.
“Come on, clothing exchange!”, called the matron, who stood beside a large laundry cart that had been wheeled into the pod. “Give me your tired, your stinky, your ready to walk out of here on their own legs.” Joan noticed the other girls tossing their clothes…every stitch of them…into the wheeled bin. Obviously, she was to do likewise, so she swung down from the top bunk, pulled off her bra and panties, and tossed them in with the rest. Ashley was already naked beside her, and whispered, “Your other stuff, too…then get in line behind me.”
Joan pulled her top and pants from her bunk and tossed them in as well. Her pod mates how now lined up against the wall by the door in what she recognized as “pod order”, in the same order as their bunks. She’d been naked more than once in JDC, but had never seen this many nude females her own age save maybe in gym class, and that didn’t count since everyone wore towels from their lockers to the showers and back.
She lined up with the rest, between Ashley and the girl named Kendra from the next bunk. Joan noted with some relief that she had a better body than many of the other girls, although she was a little more curvaceous than she would have liked. Joan had her mother’s long, straight black hair, so long that they had trimmed it when she arrived. She hated that.
The matron walked down the line with a couple of girls from another pod, calling out names and clothing sizes. As she called out each set, the girl in front of her nodded and said, “Correct, Ma’am.” She got to Ashley, and called, “Vance, large, medium, and medium.” Ashley answered in the affirmative. Joan understood that these were outerwear, bra, and panty sizes. “Andrews, medium, large, and medium.” Recalling those were the sizes she’d been ordered to memorize, Joan answered, “Correct, Ma’am”. She was surprised that Ashley took the same size panties that she did, even though they were “one size fits all” like the sports bras that they wore. Ashley was tall, but her hips looked really slim. As she glanced at Ashley’s hips, she noticed that Ashley’s pubic hair was darker than her locks, and suddenly became aware that she was no less exposed herself, even though she had placed her hands over her groin. When was this naked stuff going to be over?
She soon had her answer, and it was not one she anticipated. “Single file, no talking”…the same order given whenever the pod was marched anywhere. Where were they taking her without any clothes?
They marched the pod down several hallways in the facility. It seemed surreal, a couple of dozen teens walking down the hall in the altogether. There were no windows, and it was an all-female facility, but it still seemed weird. Feeling a chill in the evening air, Joan hugged herself below her breasts for warmth.
They passed a door in the side of the hall labeled “Showers” and stopped by another marked “Cleanout”, by which the matron leading the pod stopped, and then unlocked. “You know the drill”, she commanded, “two rows of 12, on the yellow lines.” She led the file into the room, turning to the left and pointing at the far end of a yellow line about 5 feet from the near wall. Joan watched the girls ahead of her enter the room. When she got there, she discovered that the first dozen were lined up facing into the room, and that “Joan’s” dozen lined up on another line closer to the wall. She wound up in about the middle of the second line, this time with Ashley on her left and Kendra to her right. A small Hispanic girl stood in front of her, and Joan wondered if she, too, had straight black hair down her little brown butt before she had come here.
But the furnishings of the room drew Joan’s attention away from the nude form in front of her. About 5 feet in front of the first row was a low bar, about a foot off the ground, on stanchions for the nearly the width of the room. Beyond that, in two staggered rows, were a series of porcelain-lined troughs in the floor, about 2 feet long by 6 inches wide, with rounded ends. They looked like some kind of plumbing fixture, but not like any Joan was familiar with. Between bar and the fixtures, near one of the side walls, was a cart with a stainless steel bucket with a hose coming out of the side near the bottom. Something else was on the cart, but whatever it was, it was covered by towels. Also, from the ceiling a boom on a swivel extended, with a length of hose at the end hanging almost to the floor. This reminded Joan of the gizmo at the car wash that you used to clean all around the sides and back of your car. She suddenly decided that whatever “Cleanout” was, she was probably not going to like it at all.
The matron paced between the bar and the fixtures, and addressed the group. “Some of you are new to this, so listen up. We’re going to do this in nice simple steps so you can get it right. After a while, you’ll know what to do when you’re brought here. Anyone who gives me any trouble here can have a taste of the strap. I’m not kidding about that…just ask the young ladies who have been here a while if you doubt me.” She called sharply, “First row! Step forward and kneel so the front of your thighs are touching the bar.” As one, the front row did as commanded. Apparently, all the new girls were in the back row with Joan.
“Put your left knee between your partner’s legs.” There was some shuffling as the girls had to spread both their right and left legs to accommodate the order. Each ended up with their left partner’s right thigh in front of their left thigh, their right partner’s left thigh behind their right thigh, and two disparate knees and shins between their legs. Joan stared in bemusement, it looked like some sort of strange athletic display or orgy or something.
“Right leg forward, left leg straight up and down”, called the matron, walking around to see the back of the line. Everyone shifted just a little bit this time, putting their right knee forward under the bar a little to allow their partner’s left thigh to be perpendicular to the ground.
“Ok, tits on the ground, asses in the air.” Joan couldn’t believe her eyes as the front row bent forward at the waist. It was a mass mooning! It was like a car wreck…she knew she didn’t really want to be looking at a bunch of women’s buttholes and vaginas, but just the same she couldn’t tear her eyes away. If walking through the halls naked was surreal, this was even more so.
The matron pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, and two assistants that Joan hadn’t noticed wheeled the cart over to help her. She went to the first girl in line, and one assistant poured some powder into the can while the other held open a tub of lubricant. The matron put a healthy dollop of goo on her right index finger, reached down with her left hand, spread the first victim’s buttocks wide, and inserted her finger in the poor girl’s anus until her knuckles pressed up against her buttocks. She twisted her wrist around, fully coating all sides of the girl’s rectum, and withdrew her hand. The assistants had attached some sort of thick nozzle to the end of the tube from the bucket, and filled the little bucket from the overhead line. The matron smeared more goo (and Joan hated to think what else) around the nozzle, and once more spread the first girl’s hind cheeks. Joan was startled. The nozzle thing was as big as a thick sausage, and had a flat plate at the end opposite the tip. Surely she cant…but surely she did. In one swift motion, the matron inserted the nozzle deep within the first girl’s posterior, twisting it slightly as she did. It was hard to read the girl’s body language since most of her was hidden behind her butt and her legs, but it didn’t seem like a pleasant event. Joan recalled the rectal exam she got her first day, and put her hands over the crack of her butt without realizing it.
One of the assistants opened some kind of clamp in the hose, and it seemed that they were pouring the contents of the can into the girl’s hind end. Joan had never gotten an enema, but had heard of them, although she hadn’t quite pictured them to be like this. The girl squirmed slightly as the fluid poured into her, but held position without complaint.
As they finished, one assistant fixed the clamp again, and pulled the hose apart at a fitting. A short length of hose protruded from the first girl’s butt, and the second assistant started putting a new nozzle and hose on the short hose protruding from the enema can. Meanwhile, the matron and the first assistant had advanced on the second girl in line, lubricating her as the first. It was an enema assembly line!
Joan had no sense of time, but guessed that about 20 minutes had passed by the time the last girl in line had “gotten her fill”. The ones at the opposite end were obviously squirming in discomfort, judging by the gyrations of their hips. As the can was disconnected from the last girl in line, the matron stood up and announced, “First line! Stand and squat!” Joan watched the unfortunates struggle to their feet, some with obviously full and bulging bellies. They gingerly stepped over the low railing and walked to the nearest trough, some holding their bellies. Each squatted over one of the fixtures, most putting down a hand for balance.
“Second line! Step forward and kneel with your thighs touching the bar!” Joan gulped as she realized her number was up. She stepped forward with Ashley and Kendra, and knelt beside them with her hands still behind her butt. “Put your left knee between your partner’s legs!” Joan looked to her right as Kendra was trying to slip her knee between her legs, and reached forward to grasp the bar with her hands to steady herself. As she spread her legs, Ashley whispered, “Psst! Between mine!” Joan slipped her left knee between Ashley’s thighs, next to the shin of the next girl over. The girls in the squatting front row were making little whimpering noises of discomfort. Had they dared to speak, they would have all exhorted the back row to “Hurry up!”
“Right leg forward, left leg straight up and down!” Kendra nudged the back of Joan’s thigh until her knee was well forward of the bar. Joan realized she had to do likewise, and pushed on the back of Ashley’s thigh until she was in what she hoped was the right position. “Ok, asses in the air! Put your boobies all the way down onto the concrete! You new girls, too!” Joan bent over, lower, then lower as it was obvious that Ashley and Kendra were going way down. She stretched her arms out in front of her, and started when her nipples touched the floor. The concrete was cold and icky…this really sucked!
Ashley and Kendra each clasped one of her hands in one of theirs. Joan looked left and right, and saw that every pair of girls was holding hands. It gave her a little comfort; truth be told it gave them all a little comfort, even the old hands. Ashley gave her a look that said this is going to be all right, although she didn’t utter a sound. Joan heard the cart roll on the floor behind her as it was repositioned from the end to the beginning of the line.
Although her legs really weren’t spread that far apart, Joan felt really open and vulnerable in this position. Having her right knee forward opened her up just a little bit more, and prostrate as she was, she felt her ass was offered up to some…ass god or something. It was really strange. She trembled, not such a tough juvenile delinquent any more, but just another inmate about to get her enema. She became aware of just how close she was to the other girls, not only hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder, but ass cheek to ass cheek, too.
As the cart reached the beginning of the line, the matron stepped forward to the first squatting girl, the first one to get her enema. With her left hand on the girl’s shoulder, the matron reached down and pulled the plug out of the first girl’s butt. The girl let out a sigh of relief, and immediately began expelling her enema. Joan had been watching, and she stared at the redhead spewing a liquid stream from her hindquarters until she realized that she really didn’t want to be watching that, and focused on the concrete just inches from her nose. It wasn’t long until the smell assaulted her nostrils, and at that moment Joan decided that she never wanted to get on the bad side of the staff here, knowing what they could and would do to her.
A few moments later, the matron “unplugged” the second squatting girl, and Joan somehow knew that the first girl in her row had gotten her enema. The enema squad worked their way down the line, and soon they had unplugged the girl in front of Ashley. The matron placed her hand on Ashley’s buttocks, and Ashley gave Joan’s hand a little squeeze. Joan turned her head to look at her bunkmate, and Ashley gave her a look that said we can do this even as the matron’s finger buried itself deep within her. Joan gazed into Ashley’s eyes and thought, “I’m there for you”, even though she’d barely known the tall blond for 24 hours. A hint of sexual excitement passed through Joan’s exposed vulva as she knelt beside the others, trembling and feeling oh, so vulnerable. Ashley squeezed Joan’s hand quite hard as the nozzle was inserted…that was one of the worst parts…and then relaxed as if to say, I did it! She breathed heavily as the soapy water filled her bowels, squirming a little as the cramps began. Joan was aware of the clamp being reattached to her friend’s hose, and suddenly felt more naked than she ever had in her life…even more than the first time she was strip searched on her first overnight stay at JDC.
The matron walked around the line of girls kneeling at the bar…step, step, step, step…to the pretty brown girl in front of Joan. She was trembling with exhaustion from cramping and squatting so long. Joan stared, transfixed, as the matron pulled the nozzle from the girls rectum, and the girl squeaked from the shock, then started expelling dirty water into the trough. Kendra got Joan’s attention with a quick squeeze of her hand, and when Joan looked to face her, she silently mouthed “Don’t say a word.” Joan gave a quick nod back, really frightened now. She could hear the matron…step, step, step, step…taking a position behind her. She became aware of Ashley again, squeezing her hand as another wave of cramps passed through her. She felt the matrons hand upon her rump, spreading her cheeks, and thought, “Here it comes”. She thought she knew what to expect from her rectal exam upon intake, but gasped as she was unprepared for the vigor and thoroughness with which the matron coated the last part of her alimentary canal with slippery goo. She was also unprepared for the way the older woman teased her clitoris with her thumb and fingers as she twisted her wrist back and forth. Joan clamped her legs on the other girls’, which only served to heighten the sexual tension. “Thank God that’s over”, Joan thought, when the matron finally withdrew her finger.
Ah, but the matron really knew her craft, and was especially proud of the way she broke in the “virgins”. After just the right pause, and without warning, she jammed the inch-and-a-half thick nozzle deep into Joan’s aft hole, twisting from side to side as she went.
Joan gasped, clenched Ashley and Kendra’s hands as tightly as she could, and tried to thrust her hips forward to escape the intruder. Of course, the sturdy bar prevented any forward progress, and the other girls secured her legs, anticipating her movement (Ashley taking the trouble to wrap her right ankle over Joan’s left calf). Joan had never felt such a burning pain in her anus, it felt like she’d been split apart!
And had been was the appropriate tense, since the widest part of the nozzle was deep inside her and her poor, stretched anal ring had re-closed around its narrower neck. The flat plate nestled gently up against Joan’s buttocks, preventing it from slipping further inside. Just as she started to relax from the shock of the intrusion, she both heard and felt the click of the clamp being released…felt, that is, with the very lining of her rectum as the vibration traveled up the hose and through the nozzle. She felt the cool fluid flowing into her belly, an odd sensation she had never had before. At first, it felt somewhat nice, but then it felt like she was too full, and the water just kept coming and coming. She felt a cramp building…it was sort of like a menstrual cramp, but not really…then it passed. The water was getting uncomfortable, really filling her bowels. She was afraid she was going to explode, then she once more heard and felt the click of the clamp being replaced, followed by the disconnection of the two parts of the hose. She smiled and nodded at Ashley, who grimaced back at her through a cramp of her own. It was now Kendra’s turn.
Joan would have been surprised to know that her belly now held two full quarts of enema solution, and even more surprised to learn that this wasn’t necessarily a large enema. Still, when one is not free to release such at thing at will, it seems larger than it is.
Joan was hardly as supportive to Kendra as Ashley and Kendra had been to her, but that was to be expected from an enema novice. It took a few sessions to deal well with this part of the routine.
Joan struggled with the occasional cramping as the matron worked her way down the rest of the line. She found it getting more and more unbearable as the minutes passed. Of course, the room smelled like a barn from all the girls in the first row, some of whom were still discharging. At last she heard the words from off to her right, “That’s the last one”, followed by the sound of the cart being wheeled out of the room. She then heard the matron walk…step, step, step…to the first squatting girl, still hovering over the porcelain trough, one hand on the floor for balance.
The matron had the hose from the ceiling in her right hand (now ungloved), and she positioned it under the squatting girl’s hind cheeks. A jet of water shot out from the hose, thoroughly drenching the first inmate’s crotch and hind cleft. She continued to squat, shaking, as the matron played with the jet for a minute and more. Finally the water stopped, and the matron gave the redhead a hard slap on her right buttock. “Shower”, was the one-word command, and the girl got up on shaky legs and walked through the opening in the left wall into the room next door. The matron hosed what lie on the floor into the now unoccupied trough, and motioned for the first girl in Joan’s row to come forward and squat. That girl (Jenny? Joan struggled to remember) was summarily unplugged, and added to the stench.
The process continued, with one girl being cleaned and another unplugged until it was Ashley’s turn to get some relief. By now Joan was in serious discomfort, shaking and grasping Kendra’s hand as she longed for her turn to expell. Joan could hardly wait as the little brown girl in front of her was cleaned out. As she was released from the room, Joan started to rise, but the matron glared at her and pointed firmly for her to stay put. “What now?”, she wondered to herself silently. “I have to go…go…”, she thought.
The matron pushed a button Joan hadn’t noticed on the far wall, and the trough in front of her made a familiar whoosh. The matron glanced at the contents, or rather now the lack of same, and motioned for Joan to take her place. Although her legs were shaky, Joan was nearly crying with joy at the prospect of emptying her bowels.
Joan had never heard of or seen a squat toilet, but that was what she was confronted with now. As she squatted down, she realized that if using the toilet in front of a room full of girls was embarrassing, using this sort of toilet was doubly so. Under other circumstances, she would have turned crimson with humiliation. However, as the contents of her bowels sloshed inside her, she would have gladly shat in front of the entire assembled residents of her home town, with live TV and internet coverage to boot. She felt the matron grasp the plug in her butt, give it a sharp pull (that burning sensation again, although not so bad this time), and felt the rush of liquid running out of her, like nothing she had ever expelled before. She nearly sobbed with relief.
After she thought she had finished, she realized that she had to keep squatting there until she was given permission to leave, as all the other girls had done so and she knew she didn’t want to step afoul of whatever regulation required it. Joan looked ahead at Ashley and Kendra (who were on the “front row” of toilets), and realized just how undignified she must look. She felt another wave inside her, and was surprised to find another wave of liquid to expell. This went on several times, until her legs burned from squatting so long, and her back hole was becoming quite tender.
Joan became aware that the matron was now “hosing” Ashley, and she wondered what expression was on the other girl’s face. It had been a while since she’d last had to expell, and she was looking forward to standing or sitting or assuming some other position than a squat. After the matron was done, Ashley stood and strolled out of the room without giving Joan so much as a backward glance. Joan was puzzled at this; wasn’t Ashley her new friend?
Although she hadn’t paid close attention, it had registered on her subconscious mind that there was a wait of a couple of minutes between “hosings”, so Joan waited patiently. Her legs hurt, but it wasn’t so bad as the cramps had been. She glanced over her shoulder as the matron put a hand on her back to steady herself. Joan involuntarily clenched everything she could clench down there as her legs were on either side of the trough.
The water blasted with a force that startled her, warm and pulsed and aimed right for her clit. It had felt good to play with the shower nozzle on her sex at her parent’s house, but she couldn’t tell if this felt good or if it was too rough. Just as it was starting to get really uncomfortable, the jet shifted and began giving her a power douche. And just as she’d thought she’d had enough of that, it began playing with her sore back hole, even forcing a little water up there. Joan grimaced; this was uncomfortable. The water stopped, and just as she caught her breath, Joan felt a painful Slap! on her right hind cheek. “Shower!” came the gruff command, and Joan was all too happy to stand and wobble through the opening in the wall, a trickle of water oozing out her backside and down her legs.
There she found her pod mates, or at least those in front of her in the second row, scrubbing off the day’s grime. She had to wash and shampoo with the same liquid soap glop, but at least the water was hot and plentiful, which she later came to understand was a rare condition in such an institution. Some of the girls, having already showered, were sitting against the wall on the wet floor. The showerheads were on two pillars in the middle of the room, facing out. She found the spot next to Ashley empty, and took it, holding onto a little lip on the pillar for support. Her eyes met Ashley’s, and she stood wordlessly, waiting for Ashley to take the initiative. ”Well, that’s our Saturday night ass-fest, enema party, whatever you want to call it”, ventured the blond. “I hope you like it, ‘cause it’s 52 times a year, rain or shine.”
Joan smiled back. “It sucks. It really, really sucks.” Ashley returned the smile. “Yeah, but you got through it. It gets easier once you get used to it.”
Joan lowered her eyes. “Thanks”, she said. “You guys really bailed me out back there.” Ashley grinned. “Yeah, but you owe me now big-time, bitch.” Ashley was like Karen, thought Joan, just not as lucky. Ashley encouraged Joan to sit bare-assed on the wet floor for a little bit. After all that standing and squatting and kneeling, it was heaven. And all too soon, it was over. They were led back into the hall, given towels to dry off with, then forced to surrender the wet towels to one of the ubiquitous laundry carts before being marched back to the pod, butt-naked with damp skin and wet hair. When they got there, Joan found a change of clothes—in her size—and still-warm trays of food on the “picnic tables”.
Several of the girls just threw on the expando-“granny panties” that were standard issue, and ate dinner topless. So did Joan. After all, she was now no longer a reform school enema virgin.
She listened to grisly tales of strapping’s and the dreaded punishment enemas…but those are tales for another time.