My Enema Nightmare

Last night I had the first dream related to my work that I was able to remember. I can honestly say that this job tends to be extremely surreal in nature and that being here is like being in some kind of Dali painting or Buñuel film. I mean, it’s not every Thanksgiving when you walk into the kitchen and a 73-year-old man is barely wheezing through his corset and garter belt while cooking a gourmand feast and then turns around and stumbles toward you in his skyscraper-high heels and gets on his hands and knees - all while bells hang down from his scrotal piercing as well as a dog tag that reads “property of Dungeon ‘X’”—and kisses your feet to greet you.

That’s the total norm where I work. When I am there, I can’t even look twice at these sort of things, and I act like not only is everything going on completely normal, but I embrace it as if to say that every actor in this play is just fine. In a semi-perfect world, life might be that way, but let’s be real. Being at the fetish dungeon is like watching a Fellini movie on a ketamine, mescaline, and Seroquel cocktail.

Bizarre...surreal...dreamlike...so why has this place (until last night) not invaded my dreams? I have NO idea. I speculate it might be some sort of repressed memory syndrome or something. Maybe in ten years I’ll have some major meltdown and all of these images will flood my head at once and I’ll remember everything and then my head will just literally explode, with chunks of skull and burnt brain flying everywhere.

The dream I had last night was extremely terrifying. I think it actually may have been more terrifying than what I actually experience here.

Wait...that’s a hard one. I might have to take that back.

Reality here equals golden showers, fire-truck-red asses, double-edged black cocks, poopy assholes, leather-faced whores, sissy panties, isolation, pussy pricks, mistress mistress mistress, men jacking off their tiny peni with two fingers, the smell of fresh shit everywhere, rooms COVERED in semen, OH GOD SOMEBODY STOP ME!!!!!!

OK...gaining composure. So, yes, the dream was disturbing, but I’m still on the fence whether it was as horrible as the reality. Maybe you can decide.

To put the nightmare in context, I must first explain the god-awful enemas we give out. All types of men use them, and it’s actually easy money for me. It only takes about five minutes of staring at a man’s open asshole, and I make a couple hundred.

But we do not use store-bought enemas like you might imagine - and which you would imagine would be a lot safer disease-wise. We use those old-school 70’s erotic-nurse enemas with those HUGE pink bags attached to a tube attached to this long thin thing with holes in it that is inserted into the anus. The bag is then filled ALL THE WAY full. Which is, I swear, about a half-gallon of water (oh, and these men take it ALL). The tip thingy is then lubed up and inserted into the man’s asshole, the bag raised, and ba-da-bing, all this warm water flows into these fat-bellied slugs. It is sickening to watch, but it requires almost no work.

I would NEVER get one of these Jurassic enemas even if I were paid 20 thousand dollars. And these men pay hundreds for me to do this. Some things even I can’t wrap my mind around, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from working here, there is not anything that you could fathom in your deepest darkest nightmarish mind that someone out there would not try. Knowing that, you can more easily understand my nightmare.

In the nightmare I was preparing one of those terrible enemas to use on some poor old fat important white man, and I fill the big pink bag full of warm water, but all of a sudden the faucet starts to sprout out brown water, and then the water turns to the consistency of shit. I am completely gagging because it is really gross, but I keep filling the bag because this has to be done fast. Then the scene switches immediately to where I am being held down by the headmistress (who is the manager who often bothers me) and one of my coworkers (who is now bald from recently having her head shaved there for a large sum of money - that part of the dream is true). They are holding me down and I see about three of the trannies who frequent the place all dressed-up with makeup smeared all over their faces à la Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (It’s not too far from what they normally look like.) All of these people are laughing at me, and then one of the trannies raises up the pink enema bag. I know what is in it, and I start to use as much force as possible to get away from all of them.

The headmistress then holds up the dreaded tip that I’ve seen inserted into SOOOOOO many dirty assholes, and I immediately know where she wants to put it, so I close my mouth as tightly as I can and am violently shaking my head back and forth as if to say NOOOOOOOO. The bald girl holds my nose, and I can’t breathe. Then the lock is released on the tube and the poo water starts going everywhere. Little chunks of shit are going all over my face. I have to close my eyes, and I must open my mouth a touch to get some air. The headmistress uses that quick chance to pry my mouth open and stick the tube in, and my mouth instantly fills with chunks of shit and water.

At first it is mostly liquid with a few chunks, but it tastes horrible and all that is going through my mind is the many times I had inserted that very piece into so many assholes and now it is in my mouth, and as this is happening the liquid that is coming out of it starts to get thicker and turns to full-on shit. I am spitting out the water all over, but now my mouth is getting dry and full of shit. I look up at the trannies holding the pink bag, and they are giggling to each other like schoolgirls. One is folding the bag down as to get all the shit out that she can. The headmistress starts talking to me like I have heard her talk to so many men before. “Meg, you are FUCKING disgusting and we need to clean you out. We need to make you into a good little whore for your mistress. Don’t you want to be a good whore? Good whores don’t have dirty mouths, and you definitely have to clean out that dirty mouth for YOUR MISTRESS.”

That monologue is repeated over and over. I am gagging and shaking and trying to get out of this terrible situation. The images of all of the trannies, the mistresses, the open assholes, the shit, and the men crouched on all fours are all swirling above me. I start to completely convulse in my dream, and then I wake up. I wake up completely convulsing and shaking my head NO, and my mouth is completely dry from drinking the night before and being dehydrated, and it all seems so real it takes about a full thirty seconds before I realize that everything was just a dream.

JUST A DREAM. It was so horrible. It takes me about an hour to fully recover. I am hyperventilating and the whole package. I start to think that this is the FIRST dream I’ve had about the job since I have been working there, or at least the first one I remember. I am somewhat bizarrely relieved, because I was a bit disturbed before that this place was somehow blocked from my dreams and subconscious, which might have meant that my brain was somehow not processing it correctly. There are so many psychologically terrible things that go on there, I can’t begin to go into them. I’ll save that for a later column.

So the fetish dungeon has pierced every part of my brain. I know that this is not the last of the nightmares or the dreams. I just felt it significant to write about because IT IS SO GODDAMNED DISGUSTING. You know the irony of this, though? I bet that this dream would appeal as a fantasy to many people that come into where I work. Maybe I should suggest it as a scenario. Or maybe make it into some artsy/horrible scat film and make some money off of it. Writing it down and reliving it makes me want to vomit three thousand times. After the dream, I guzzled about a gallon of water. Now I feel the need to do the same. Like I said, though, I have witnessed stuff that could be considered more disturbing than even my sick subconscious can only dream of. That’s pretty cool in a way.

I actually don’t know if “cool” is the right word.

Maybe “rad.”