A True Story by T.Rex
It was a Wednesday evening. With 45 minutes to the next bus home, I was sitting reading in the personnel kitchen after lecturing anatomy all day.
A physiotherapist colleague I had taught together with for over 10 years opened the door and stepped in.
“Are you still here?” she asked.
“Yes. Waiting for the bus,” I replied.
She walked through the room into the locker room at the other end of the kitchen. She unlocked her locker. Without drawing the curtain between the locker room and kitchen, she proceeded to unbutton and take off her white work blouse. As I glanced up, …no bra. She hung up the blouse in her locker.
She then unbuttoned her white work trousers, and let them drop to her ankles… no panties.
She stepped out of her trousers, bent over, her breasts dangling forward, picked up her trousers and hung them up in the locker. She then bent over again and placed her flip-flops on the locker floor.
She then turned and stepped into the kitchen.
“This is what I look like,” she said. Her 46 year old body looked no older than 20.
I didn’t know what to say, as I was so surprised at her unexpected behavior.
“Beautiful,” was all I could blurt out. Looking at her, there was no other word that could come to mind.
She smiled, “Thanks. You’re not embarrassed, are you? As an anatomist, you know the body inside and out.”
“No, I’m just rather surprised. I’m more used to seeing the inside than the surface. And those bodies don’t talk or interact with me.”
She smiled again, turned around and walked the four steps to her locker. As she did so, I noticed the fat on her buttocks moving up and down with each step. No excess or hanging fat. “Beautiful motion study,” I thought to myself.
She turned her left side to me as she took something out of the locker with her right hand. Her belly was flat except for the little feminine bulge below her navel.
She turned and walked the few steps into the toilet/shower room opposite the lockers. I heard the door latch click as she closed the door.
I resumed reading my book. A few moments later I heard the shower running and some splashing as she washed off. Then the shower went silent and I heard no sound for a few minutes.
The door latch clicked again as she opened the door. I looked up. She came out of the toilet/shower room dripping wet,… with her belly bulging considerably, as though she were 8 months pregnant. As she stepped to her locker, I noticed something dangling between her thighs.
She pulled out a large bath towel from her locker and proceeded to dry her left, then her right arm. Thereafter she passed the towel over to her back and pulled the towel back and forth. She then dried between her buttocks. Thereafter she dried her chest, her bulging belly and her bottom front. She then lifted her left leg, rested her knee against a locker and dried her leg. That’s when I saw what was dangling from between her buttocks- the tube of a balloon catheter with inflation bulb. She put the leg down and repeated the process with her right leg. She hung the towel in her locker.
She turned and stepped into the kitchen.
She placed her hands against her lower chest and ran them down her bulging belly to her pubes, then lifted her lower belly a few times as she said, “Look. Isn’t it fantastic? Four liters inside. Isn’t it unbelievable how much water the large intestine can accommodate?” She smiled.
“Yes,” I replied, smiling, “I sometimes wonder how it can all fit inside.”
“I wish I could see what I look like inside, with this volume in my large intestine,” she continued.
“Well, you could have a barium enema diluted to 1:20. That would leave the large intestine partly translucent to the x-ray beam, revealing its diameter and how its parts are lying over each other,” I said.
“Well, it’s not the same- it doesn’t show how my stomach, small intestine and so on are displaced,” she replied, stroking her belly and looking a bit worried. “And opening my belly in this condition is out of the question. How to get it all back inside again?” she said with a big grin.
She turned her right side towards me as she stroked her belly with her left hand. “Really fantastic, the body,” she said. “You really see how big it is from the side.”
She then went into the toilet/shower room. I did not hear the click from the door latch- she hadn’t closed the door.
A few seconds later I hear a powerful jet of water plunge into the water in the toilet. It lasted a few seconds. Followed by another, and another. Then interspersed with splashes as her intestinal contents shot out. The last sounds were a few weak sprinkles and dribblings. Then the sound of toilet paper being pulled from the dispenser, the tearing of toilet paper, and the ruffling sound of paper against skin. This repeated a few more times. Then the sound of the toilet flushing. Lastly, the click from the light switch as she turned off the light in the toilet/shower room.
As she stepped back to the kitchen, I noticed her belly was flat as before. She stroked her belly up and down as she said, smiling “See, flat as before, and all cleaned out, too.”
She turned around and went to her locker. She took out a bra and put it on. Then a colored blouse. Thereafter panties, followed by her jeans, socks and shoes. She put on her jacket, hung her purse over her shoulder, locked the locker, put the key in her purse and stepped into the kitchen again.
“Are you here tomorrow?” she asked.
“No. My next classes are Monday afternoon.”
“OK. I’m here all Monday. Have a good week and weekend. See you Monday.”
Monday evening we met again in the personnel kitchen.
She smiled as she entered. “Had a good day?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“No embarrassment from last Wednesday?” she asked.
“No, rather surprise and fascination,” I replied. She smiled again. “And your feelings?” I asked.
“Well, we both work with the body and see it naked all the time, so it’s kind of silly all this stuff with covering up. I just felt tired of it all so I decided to not bother. You mind if we just scrap the conventions?”
“That’s OK with me, as long as nobody else is on the premises,” I replied.
Since then, if we’re alone, she doesn’t bother drawing the curtain or refrain from the occasional clean-out of her large intestine.
Between us, it’s simply maturity and mutual respect.