Another true enema story....

Here's another true story....

It was at the dinner table one night, when I was 14 years old, that my mother asked if I was not feeling well. I hadn’t eaten much of my dinner and was a little tired. I told her that I was a little tired and didn’t have much of an appetite. The truth was that I just didn’t care for the menu that evening. She asked if I was coming down with a cold. I told her that I wasn’t. She then asked me when was that last time I went to the bathroom. I replied that it was yesterday.

After dinner, I was surprised to see my mom come to me and give me a piece of Feen-a-mint. She said that, to be on the safe side, I should chew it to make sure I would go by the next morning. I didn’t think much of it at the time. As I was lying in bed that night, I decided to see how far I could play this scenario.

The next morning at the breakfast table, I didn’t eat much at all. That prompted mom to asked me if the Feen-a-mint had worked yet. I replied to the negative. After breakfast, I went upstairs to watch television. About 45 minutes later, my mom called me downstairs. She told me to follow her to the bathroom. On the way she told me that I might need a little more help to move my bowels. I entered the bathroom and found nothing waiting. Mom told me to drop my pants and get on my knees, with my head down. She left the room and went to the kitchen. She quickly returned with a jar of suppositories. She said that she needed to give me a suppository. I hadn’t had a suppository since I was around 4 or 5 and those were the long skinny baby kind. She opened the jar and removed one and placed it at my anus. She told me to relax and slipped it up into my rectum. She then told me to stay in that position until it worked.

Mom then left the room. Because she didn’t insert it too high, I squeezed it out as soon as she left. I wrapped it in a piece of kleenex and put it in the wastebasket. About every two minutes or so, she would ask me if I thought I had to go yet. As you can guess, I said no. She told me to wait and that it would work. After about 20 minutes I asked her if I could go upstairs and lie down. She agreed, so I left the bathroom.

As I rested on the sofa and watched television, mom did some ironing in the kitchen. She looked in on me from time to time and asked me if I had to go to the bathroom yet. I said “not yet”. She told me to relax and give the suppository a chance to work. When she was done with her ironing, I heard her start washing the breakfast dishes. About fifteen minutes later, mom called me to come to the kitchen and asked me if I had to go yet. Of course, I told her “no”. She told me to go into the bathroom. I thought that she wanted me to go to the bathroom to try to have a bowel movement, but when I entered, a surprise awaited me. Before, when I heard running water, I had assumed she was washing and rinsing the dishes. She had also prepared a bathroom sink full of warm soapy water. Mom followed me into the bathroom and said “I think that the suppository could use a little help”. She opened the cabinet and took out the ,all too familiar, 2 ounce red bulb syringe with the black nozzle as I looked in the sink at the warm milky solution that I knew would soon me up my butt. As usual, a bar of Ivory soap floated in the sudsy water. Mom told me that I was too big to go over her lap anymore and that she would have to find another way to administer my enemas from now on.

I could see, by the look on her face, that she didn’t put a whole lot of thought regarding a new position for me. Mom took a towel, folded it several times and placed it on the side of the bath tub. I was then told to remove my pajama bottoms and underwear. She told be to bend over the bath tub like I would over her lap. After removing my clothes, I laid myself over the side of the tub. Mom told me to get my head lower and raise my bottom up. I obliged her, but it felt real awkward. Mom asked me if I was ready to begin my enema. I looked over my shoulder to see her take the bulb syringe and squeeze it a few times before putting the nozzle into the sink. With the tip in the water, she squeezed the bulb. It made that familiar bubbling sound. As she eased her grip, I could hear the warm suds being sucked into the syringe. The whole room smelled like Ivory soap.

As mom took a step towards me I felt her left hand separate my buttocks. She crouched and I felt the gentle probing of the nozzle at my anus. When she was sure she found her target, she pushed it all the way into my rectum. I gasped in delight. She told me to take a deep breath then slowly squeezed the bulb, emptying it’s contents into my rear-end. She withdrew the nozzle and refilled the syringe. The next time she found the target right away and slipped it in and squeezed. She asked me if I could feel the water go in. I replied “yes”. I was in heaven! It was a bit harder for mom to give me that enema since she had to stand to fill the syringe, then crouch down to empty it.

When I was over her lap, she sat on the closed toilet seat and could reach into the sink to refill the bulb syringe. I kept count of the insertions that day and after the tenth, she said she was done. I really felt somewhat cheated! My mother always kept filling me until I said that I couldn’t take another. She put the syringe in the soapy water and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I’m sure that she didn’t get much more than a pint in me. I sat on the toilet and quickly expelled the meager enema. After five minutes or so, mom knock on the bathroom door and asked how I was doing. I told her that I just expelled a small chunk and then just the water. She told me to sit there a while longer. After another ten minutes, I wiped and flushed. I left the bathroom and went to my bedroom to lie down. As I was lying in bed, I decided that I would take the situation one step further.

Mom came into my bedroom and asked if I felt a lot better now. I told her that I didn’t get much out. She said that the Feen-a mint would probably take care of the rest from above. I fell asleep and napped until about 2:30. I got up and went to the kitchen and said I was thirsty. Mom poured me a glass of orange juice. She asked me to go into the bathroom to try to go a bit more. I went in and sat on the toilet for about 10 minutes and left without even flushing. I went to the living room to watch TV. Mom brought me a sandwich around 4PM. I told her that my stomach was upset and that I wasn’t hungry. She sat next to me and put her hand on my forehead. She said that I didn’t feel warm. She told me that at that time she didn’t want to take any further action, but if I couldn’t go to the bathroom by 7PM, she would have to give me an enema with the hot water bottle. I asked her if we couldn’t do it right now, but she said that she didn’t want to upset my stomach even more now. The minutes now seemed liked hours and the hours passed like days.

At 6:30, I started listening for preparations to begin. Instead I heard knocking at the door. The neighbor lady Sue, from across the street came over to visit with my mother. The appointed hour, 7PM, passed without incident. So did 8PM. At 8:30, I came into the kitchen to get something to drink. My neighbor Sue, said hi to me and I said hi to her somewhat weakly. I went back to the living room. I heard Sue ask my mom if I wasn’t feeling well. My mom said that I had an upset stomach and was constipated. Sue told her that she should give me a laxative. That’s all my mom needed to hear. She then told Sue that she planned on something a bit more drastic than a laxative for me. That got Sue’s attention. The two women then discussed their treatments of choice for constipation. The consensus was that for constipation, nothing worked better or more thorough than a good enema. I heard Sue say that when she would get constipated, she wouldn’t even bother with a laxative. She would take an enema as soon as she felt the need to. She said that enemas worked much quicker and it was silly to swallow something and wait for a long time to get to the other end. I listened for my mom’s input. I wondered if she ever gave herself enemas. All I could hear was my mom agreeing with Sue. Sue then said that she had to go home. Sue yelled good-bye to me in a cheerful voice. She knew what was soon in store for me.

It was now 9PM as Sue left our house. Mom wasted no time at all. She called to the kitchen. When I got there mom went to the closet and took out a box. She opened the box and pulled out a red rubber hot water bottle. Since this was to be my first enema with the bag, mom showed me the bag and told me that it held two quarts. She told me that she would have to give me the whole bag. This was a whole new experience for me. All the enemas that I had ever received were already prepared for me before she called me in for the treatment. She took a large pitcher out and started running the water. She went to the bathroom and returned with the bar of Ivory soap. She put the Ivory in the pitcher and when she was sure the water was the right temperature, held the pitcher under the faucet. When the pitcher was about two-thirds full she turned of the water and placed the pitcher on the counter. She then reached in the pitcher and grabbed the bar of Ivory to mix it with the water. It started to look milky and my mother rinsed and dried her hands. She then took the bag and handed it to me to hold while she poured the contents of the pitcher in. She filled it all the way to the top. Mom then reached for the box and took out a long red coiled hose. At the end of the hose was a long black curved nozzle with holes along the sides. Mom pulled that nozzle off the hose, which prompted me to ask why. She just said that was for women and then she took a black adult rectal nozzle from the box and attached it to the hose. She brought the hose towards me and screwed it in the bag. she snapped the metal clamp shut and took the bag from me. Mom led me to the bathroom and hung the bag from a hook on the wall. She took the hose and told me how the enema bag worked. She pointed the nozzle into the sink and with her other hand opened the clamp the water shot into the sink. She quickly clamped the hose and told me that was to get the air out of the hose.

Mom told me to take off all of my clothes. She then spread a towel on the floor. I think she realized that the over the tub position wasn’t that good. Mom sat on the closed toilet seat and had me face away from her and then get on my knees with my face resting on the floor and my butt high. Then she had me scoot back a little so my rear was right in front of her. She told me that she would have to make sure that I took the whole bag and that she would regulate the flow by lifting and lowering the bag. She said that she would give it to me slowly and gently. She asked me if I was ready to start. I said yes. She brought the nozzle to my anus and rested it there. I tensed up a little. She moved it around my anal ring to loosen me a little then took aim and slid it all the way in. That nozzle was a lot larger than the infant one on the bulb syringe. Without warning, I heard a sharp metallic click as she released the clamp. I didn’t feel a thing at first. The was a gurgle, then the water streamed into my rectum. With her right hand, mom held the hose right behind the nozzle and kept it all the way in. With her left hand, she held the bag. Mom asked me if I could feel it going in. I said “a little bit”. She raised the bag. Now I could really feel it going in. It wasn’t long before I heard a click again. I asked why she turned it off. she told me to turn my head. The bag was empty. Mom slowly pulled the nozzle out and put the bag and hose in the sink before leaving the room. I sat on the toilet and released my first enema with the bag. It worked like a charm. I cleaned up and left the bathroom.

Mom came to me and asked with a grin if that enema had done it’s job. I told that it worked real well. She then said that she should have given me a large enema that morning. She also said that to be on the safe side, she would have to give me another bag enema the next morning after breakfast. I went to bed eagerly anticipating a repeat performance.


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