Gram awoke me at 5:30 the following morning. She had obviously been up for a while preparing for the day - for me. She went with me into the bathroom and once more questioned me about peeing - again she watched. This time she seemed more satisfied with the amount that I produced, but quickly felt my stomach when I was done. I guess she was checking for fullness. She also said that I was not to pee again without her knowing it - she needed to check out something.

After this she gave me a breakfast consisting of jello and some apple juice. She had at some point rearranged all of her "supplies" onto a rather large tray. The bottle that contained the soap and glycerin mixture was on the counter with a large spoon in it. She would stir it from time to time and check the consistency. I noted that the stuff had turned into a kind of thin paste consistency. Firm enough to sit on a spoon like a mound of potatoes, yet not as stiff as the jello I was eating. She said that it was almost ready and that in fact, she might even be able to use it later that day. Later that day, I thought - what all did she have planned?

As I said, my Gram lived up north in a very small town. There really wasn't much to do other than watch TV or go for walks. Her nearest neighbor was several hundred yards away but there was land to roam - if I ever got far enough away from the bathroom that is.

Along with my jello and apple juice, I was expected to drink 2 full glasses of water. She said that she wanted me drinking as much water as I possibly could as this too would help flush out my bowels and my bladder. Bladder? I didn't know there was anything wrong with my bladder, but obviously she thought so.

I had finished my breakfast and was choking down the first of the two glasses of water when Gram searched her tray and found a small round bottle. I knew what it was when I saw it - glycerin suppositories. Mom had used them once or twice on me when I was younger - maybe 5 or 6 years old. She busied herself over the tray while I sat there.

Without a word, she turned and sat at the table, placing a small plate with two suppositories. Before you finish your water, she said - let's get these working. She made me stand with my hands on the table leaning forward a bit. Up when the nightshirt and I felt her probe once more. The ointment from the night before was still on my skin to provide some lubricant. Each suppository was placed as high in my rectum as her middle finger would push it - one after the other. She also took the moment to feel around and hit that spot again that made me feel like I had to pee. At once, my penis responded and started to grow. All I wanted to do was sit down and finish my water, which she finally let me do. She then told me I had no more than 15 minutes and then I needed to go into the bathroom. She would be there waiting.

Taking her tray of supplies, she disappeared into the other end of the house. I could hear water running and cabinets open and close. I could also feel the suppositories starting to burn inside me. For a moment, I thought again about the feeling of her finger inside me and my penis began to grow once more. I was actually starting to anticipate the good feelings and was almost ready to admit to myself that I actually wanted to go into the bathroom.

I must have sat there longer than she thought I should have because she started calling me. I stood up and realized that I was rock hard thinking about the feeling - both physical and mental I suppose. Gram had everything ready in the bathroom as before, but this time there were a few extra things. The smell of alcohol was in the air as well. On the tray sat the small plain glass, a large syringe filled with what I hoped was water, the Vaseline, ointments and this time a rubber glove as well. I guess Gram noticed I smelled the alcohol, as she made the comment to me that she was sorry, but wanted things sterile if she needed them. Without being told, I removed my night shirt and was standing there totally naked and still erect. Gram asked if I needed to pee yet, to which I said no. A small frown came over her face as she said - even after all that water? Again I said no.

She then told me to kneel down on the towels as I had done before. Without being told, I knelt down and bent over resting my face on the floor. My rear high in the air. Gram went about her business. She had placed the small glass under me - just below my penis. I though this was somewhat curious, but just assumed she placed it there for some purpose. She rarely did things without an express purpose. The bag had already been filled to capacity and was hanging, plain water this time she told me. I heard her pull on the glove this time and the jar of Vaseline being opened. She almost whispered 'relax' as she started spreading the slippery grease on my backside - each stroke further penetrating me until she finally plunged her finger inside. I must have let out a gasp because I remember her asking me if I was OK. I don't remember answering.

This time she spent less time making sure the Vaseline was spread all over my insides and went straight to that spot again, the one that made me feel like I was going to pee - or something anyway. She told me just to relax again and again as her finger rubbed over and pushed on that spot. I noticed that she had adjusted the glass to be directly under me as a drop of the milky liquid dripped from the tip of my penis. That first drop seemed to give her determination as she rubbed more and more. Another drop, then another. I felt pressure build as she rubbed and pressed more. A fourth drop fell but then nothing more. I finally realized that she had placed the glass there to catch the drops.

She continued for a few more minutes until I guess she either realized that no more was coming or that I was really getting sore by then. I had masturbated many times in my life by that time and I had an idea of what the fluid was, but I really didn't have a clear idea of all the anatomy that was involved or why things happened the way they did. I did know that what she did felt totally different than what I did when I climaxed, so I knew it wasn't the same and I knew that I hadn't climaxed. I thought how embarrassing that would be - to squirt in front of your grandma - no matter how "medical" it was.

Gram picked up the glass and inspected the contents. I could tell that she was not pleased with the result. She asked me if I needed to sit on the toilet before she gave me the enema. I said yes, just to get off of my knees for a few minutes and to get the suppositories out.

While I was sitting there, she continued to inspect the glass. Four drops, she said - is that all? I asked her what she meant. She said that at my age, I should surely be producing much more than that and then proceeded to ask the most embarrassing question ever. She actually asked me if I had masturbated that morning. NO, I said. She continued - last night? NO. When was the last time? I said the first thing that came to mind - about a week ago I guess. I thought this would satisfy her. Did a lot come out, does it dribble or spray, it is thick or thin? The questions were just swirling in my mind.

Good bowel, urinary and reproductive health go hand in hand she told me. All have to be in top working order - especially for males she said. She then told me that next time I peed she wanted to be there - she needed to feel something and then the clincher, the next time I masturbated, she wanted me to catch the result in the glass so she could judge the content, amount and consistency. Also that it would really be best, if I would inform her right before and give it to her right after so she could get the "sample" as fresh as possible.

I think I was numb at this point. I barely remember kneeling back down on the floor and her starting the enema - which by this time had become pretty cold. I think that is what brought me back to reality. I was able to accept the full bag without complaint. Once more she stayed in the bathroom with me until I was finished. But this time she was busily preparing yet another bag full. This time she put some baking soda into the water and mixed it well. I could tell the water was very warm. No sooner had I finished expelling the contents of the first enema, I found myself once again kneeling on the floor waiting to feel the press of the nozzle once more. Just the suggestion of the position made my young manhood spring to life once more.

And yet another confusing thought crossed my mind. A few minutes before, I was embarrassed by my grandmother asking about my masturbation habits and outcome, yet here I was growing excited once more knowing that she was behind me, looking at my most private parts and about to invade me once again. It almost felt comforting this time when the nozzle slid up me. The flow of the water was indeed warm - very warm, but soothing. Gram reached under me with her familiar grip around my genitals once more and gently tugged as the water and soda filled my insides. This time, she did not have to interrupt the water flow as I was able to take the entire bag in one gulp as it were. She seemed pleased. Once completed, she again slid a finger in me to act as a plug and said that I needed to hold it as long as I could.

At least 15 minutes passed, she slid her finger back out and said I could relieve myself. This time, the contents of the toilet was almost clear. Again, she was pleased. She cleaned me up as usual - commenting that a good scrubbing never hurt anyone. I realized I felt like a small child being totally taken care of - and it dawned on me - it wasn't so bad. I stood in front of her as she sat on the toilet while she dried me off completely once more. She folded the towel and threw it over the tub and then proceeded to check me over once more. I think for a moment I had a flash back to a doctor visit I had when I was about 2 or 3. I guess I was running a fever and my mom had the doctor check out my testicles.

Now here I was at 14 standing in front of my Gram with her inspecting me the very same way. If anything, she was more thorough than the doctor was.

Once satisfied with her check up and after a few comments on how delicate my skin looked, she told me to only put on my shirt again. No undies, and certainly no pants. She also said that I could go out in the back and look around if I wanted. She had and old barn with lots of things that any 14 year old would consider cool! I took the invitation and went out back to look around. My stomach felt pretty good by this time, but my bottom was pretty sore. As I only had the shirt on, sitting was also out of the question.

About an hour of that was all I could take so I headed back in. Gram was in the kitchen stirring the soap / glycerin concoction again. She said it was almost ready. I remember asking her if I needed it as everything seemed to be out of me. She just smiled and said that she knew I was far from clean. It was also at that moment in the kitchen that I remembered the large syringe in the bathroom - the one I associated with the alcohol smell, and asked her what it was for. She told me that we would discuss that later - not to worry about it for now. Lunch was a bowl of clear chicken broth, more jello and apple juice. I could have as much as I wanted, but liquid did little to fill me up.

Later that afternoon, Gram said that she wanted to talk to me more about how she was going to help me get healthy. We sat in the bedroom to talk. I remember well her starting off the conversation of how important it was for a young man to start off and maintain a healthy lifestyle. To be clean inside and out and to regularly check the functions of the body.

She then went back to more specifics and asked about my peeing. I had been drinking water all day per her instructions and had actually gone a couple of times before I remembered she wanted to know. I told her that I had gone twice I think it was and she reminded me that she wanted to know before I went. She then asked if I needed to go now, which I did. She escorted me to the bathroom and stood next to me - just as I was about to start, she put her fingers up under my testicles at the base of my penis. I had already started to process and could not very well stop - all the time I peed, she felt around the base. At one point she even felt the underside of my penis to see how the flow felt as she put it.

All the while she questioned me - are you pushing, are you relaxed etc. etc. When I had finished, she asked if I felt empty - and I said yeah I guess. This didn't seem to sit well with her - she asked if I couldn't tell if I was empty. She also seemed to be criticizing my stream.

This is when I knew something was up and I was going to be in for more "treatments". Gram told me to go lay on the bed and pull my shirt up. She busied herself in the bathroom for 10 or 15 minutes. I could hear water running and her getting things off the tray. I was imagining that another enema was definitely coming. Was I wrong!

Gram appeared in the room with the large syringe that I had seen earlier, a large flat pad like a diaper and a white bath towel. I figured that she was going to give me a small enema with the syringe. She told me to raise up as she slid the flat pad under me. The towel was placed over my lower stomach. She then proceeded to explain to me what she was about to do. You see, it seems that my grandfather had bladder problems and Gram became proficient in his care when it came to catheterizing and irrigating.

She felt that I could benefit from some irrigation. She explained that she had sterile water in the syringe which too had been sterilized with the alcohol I smelled earlier. She said that all I need to was relax and she would do the rest. It was her intention to inject the water up my penis and fill my bladder - whereby she could measure the return to see if I was indeed emptying my bladder completely.

Now this seemed totally scary to me at the time, but again, she was my Gram. I laid there as she gently grasped my penis, which once more was becoming rapidly hard. The syringe had a long end that she placed firmly into the opening of my penis and started to inject the water.

At first it only swelled my penis and stopped. She told me that I had to relax all the muscles down there so it would flow on in past my prostate and into my bladder. Nothing seemed to work. The first few times, only squirts of water came out as she removed the syringe. Her urging words to relax kept coming. She told me that if I couldn't take it this way, she would have to catheterize me, which she may do anyway. I closed my eyes, took a long slow breath and she tried again.

This time, I felt the cool water run down my penis, down between my legs, through my prostate and into my bladder. The more it flowed, the more relaxed my bladder and prostate became. She was able to inject 3 full syringes, which she said was 9 ounces. I was to pee into a container she had. I guess it was left over from Grandpa. It was a large beaker, with ml graduations on the side.

After she completed the injections, she had me stand and pee the water back into the beaker. A little over 10 ounces came out. I will never forget it. She said - see I thought you were not emptying completely! Your prostate is not in condition and is keeping you from emptying completely. We will work on that! My only thought was whatever did that mean. I didn't have to wait long. She came back in with more sterile water and repeated the injection procedure, but this time had me hold my penis for her while she slid a finger into my rectum to massage my prostate while she injected the water. She injected the water very slowly and I was becoming more and more aroused. This time another 9 ounces with just slightly more than 9 ounce return. She told me she would get a catheter for me tomorrow. I don't think I really understood what that meant.

After she had taken everything away and cleaned up, she came back in to talk. She started talking about masturbating again. I was totally embarrassed, but also still very aroused by the last treatment. She glanced down at my erection and asked me if I felt like doing it now, to which I said no. She reminded me that she needed to see the product of any activity and as soon as possible after it was produced. She even told me what to do and not do. That it would be best to not even hardly move so she could inspect me - as she put it. I was starting to get the feeling that if I didn't soon, she would see to it that I did.

That night, I really did want to finish it off as I was still hard just thinking about things. Dinner was the same fare with nothing solid as of yet. She told me that she would start allowing me to eat more substantial food the next day. I was definitely glad to hear that.

We sat and watched some TV and I was off to bed at 8 once more. She did her ritual of coming in and checking me with her tube of ointment and this time a bottle of lotion. Looking over all my skin for any signs of redness or breakdown. Again she seemed to be somewhat bothered with my growth of hair blocking some of her view. I guess I was lucky in that it was contained mainly to my stomach - not much on my penis or scrotum. She asked how my stomach felt and I told her it was a little sore. She said she could fix that and proceeded to put lotion on her hands and started massaging my stomach from my ribs to my groin. I must admit, that felt really nice. I suddenly realized that I felt exhausted and quickly fell asleep while Gram was rubbing my stomach.