No

"I got an idea, honey," Maria said, she looked up. Juices dripped off her chin. Her fingers pulled up, and Lois gasped. "I think you're going to like it, but I have to go get something. What do you say?"

Lois gasped. Her head spun. She needed a break. So she nodded.

Maria disappeared for a moment, and Lois tried to catch her breath. Tried to stand, but her knees were weak, and she collapsed back on the toilet. Her eyes roamed over the walls of the stall. Much of the graffiti was crude—and involved figures in poorly-drawn capes, engaged in erotic acts. One phrase that was underlined again and again was The Black Door. The reporter in her brought up her camera from her jacket pocket to take snap shots of the graffiti. She managed to put the phone away as she heard the barmaid return.

The pink-and-purple haired girl had a sly grin on her face, as she held up a blue plastic bucket, paper towels, wipes, and other cleaning supplies. Weak and feverish, Lois didn't bother to protest, as Maria began methodically wiping down her clothes, first, to remove any traces of vomit, then her legs. She felt antsy as the barmaid's hands reached farther and farther up her legs, knew she should call a halt to this.

Maria used a wet cloth wipe her down—clean, efficient swipes over pussy. The matter-of-factness of it caused her to blush. Somehow she admitted to herself, she'd almost have preferred it if Maria had lingered, but this was businesslike. She felt another cloth then, wipe along the top of her thighs, down the crack of her ass, to brush over her anus.

Then Lois saw the syringe. It was the size of a turkey baster, clear plastic with a white plunger. Maria grinned as she filled it up with water from the bucket, then dabbed it with lube until it glistened.

The reporter stared down the length of her body, sprawled out on the toilet with cunt and ass bare as Maria fitted the nozzle of a giant plastic syringe into her ass. It didn't hurt as it slid in—the tip was well-lubed, and the barmaid was firm but gentle in the pressure she applied.

The liquid was cool and had a pressure of its own as it began to fill her bowels. Lois didn't have to see Maria to know she was going to fill her to the brim. "Hold it in, baby," Maria said, as she took the tip out with a wet shuck. Lois watched her draw the plunger back up in a long, slow pool. More lube on the tip. In a moment she felt it go back in again, and the fullness grew in Lois' belly, the sudden familiar pressure, all attention focused on her ass.

When Maria took the plunger out this time, she helped Lois sit up the seat. The sudden movement didn't do much for Lois' nausea, but it didn't matter. She hung feverish and limp as she voided into the toilet. Bowels clenched and unclenched. Maria held her the whole time, a little croon on her lips.

Lois didn't struggle as Maria moved her back into position. Fever pulsed in her temples as she felt the cool tip of the syringe smoothly slide into her ass again. Instinct had her hold it as the tip was withdrawn—and replaced. Withdawn—and replaced.

They repeated the maneuver of Lois sitting up. She let go the moment her ass slammed into the toilet seat. Maria held her in a hug, and Lois hung limply on the barmaid, felt her tits pressed against her own through their shits.

Gently, Maria laid Lois back into position. "Again?" Lois asked, voice heavy. She felt empty, utterly drained from both ends.

"No baby," Maria said calmly. "That was just to clean you out for what comes next."

Lois looked down, and expected to see the syringe loaded with water again...but instead she saw Maria lift up her skirt.