The next morning started early as usual. Gram woke me up and asked if I needed to go to the bathroom. Of course I did. Once again, she escorted me to the toilet and watched as I peed. Again she asked if I was empty and I said that I thought so. No more would come out. Again she had that look on her face. She told me to go back and lay on the bed.

After a few minutes, she came in carrying a tray with several of the items from the night before, including one of the long red tubes, syringe and a package of the rubber gloves. She then retrieved a clean large glass of water that she proclaimed as sterile. A pad was placed under me again and she went to work opening the packages but being careful not to touch any of the contents inside. She put the large beaker from before down between my legs. Once the packages were open, she put the gloves on, withdrew the long rubber hose and placed a clamp on the very end. I recognized the clamp as the one from the enema bag. I thought she was going to give me an enema there in the bed. Then she grasped my penis and told me to relax yet again.

Before I knew it, she was feeding the red hose inside my penis. I could feel it creep down, down more and more. It bent its way around the bottom and then stopped. It burned a little but Gram just told me to take a long slow breath. With gentle pressure she pushed it deeper into me until I felt it almost pop inside me - deep inside me. Now then, she said let's see if we have anything.

I looked down and saw my penis with about 2 inches left of the red hose sticking out. Gram released the clamp with the open end of the hose over the beaker. A small trickle of urine flowed from the end. There was not much though - maybe about half an ounce. Gram seemed pleased. I thought it was over, but then she picked up the rather large syringe and filled it with the water.

Once filled, she affixed it to the end of the hose and injected the water into my bladder. I must admit that this seemed easier than the other way of just injecting it down my penis, but then again, the tube was uncomfortable. After the injection, the hose was clamped and the syringe refilled. This too was injected into my bladder. I could not hold all of the fourth syringe full so Gram let it flow out into the beaker. She repeated this procedure 3 times. Gram finished with the syringe and put it aside. I thought she would remove the tube then, but she left it in me. She said that I needed to leave it in place to help stretch out my opening to let things flow more freely.

I had to lay there like that for two hours. The buildup of urine was allowed to escape the end of the tube and was soaked up by the pad under me.

When the time was up, Gram came in with one last injection of water and clamped off the hose. She grasped my penis in one hand, the hose in the other and with a steady gentle pull, withdrew the tube from my penis. It was as if I had no control and the flood of water came right after the tube was withdrawn - almost as if it were pushing it out. Gram smiled and said that it looked like she had some success in opening me up. The first time I peed after this treatment, it burned, but Gram said it would pass and it did. I did feel almost that I had lost some control though. Gram said that she would be putting me in a diaper at night so there were no accidents. I wasn't too sure about that one. She said it would pass as soon as I learned to gain more control with myself.

That afternoon, it was time for another internal massage. Gram had me stand next to the dresser this time as she sat behind me. Using the pair of gloves from earlier, she applied some KY jelly to her middle finger and pushed it up my rectum. She had given me my now familiar plain glass to hold under my penis to catch the product of her work. Her finger went straight to the right spot. Soon one drop, then two and with more work, three came out. It seemed a little thicker this time, but still no more than three drops.

This time, I was told in no uncertain terms that I needed to produce a semen sample. Red faced and embarrassed, I kept the glass and went to lay on the bed. Gram got me some lotion and fairly sternly, told me to get at it. She left the room but left the door open.

As she left, she reminded me to call her just as soon as it happened. Believe me, this was harder than I thought. I was in there for about 15 minutes when she called to me, was I finished. No I replied. She asked if I wanted her to massage inside my bottom to which I said no. Her reply was - ok well then - not this time. NOT THIS TIME, the words echoed in my head.

With much effort, I was finally able to produce what she was looking for and I called her. Her first comment was - took you long enough - but she smiled. She quickly examined the contents of the glass and commented that it sure wasn't much. Probably because of the circumstances I guessed. Then her attention quickly shifted to my penis. It was still fairly hard with some of my semen still leaking out of the end. She quickly took hold and squeezed the remainder out to check the volume left inside. A few tut tuts followed. I knew she was disappointed.

Then the questions started. Did I stop when I felt the urge, was there a buildup in my bottom, did it just kind of leak out or was there force behind the ejaculation. Again she questioned the last time I had ejaculated. I was totally embarrassed, but I also finally realized that to her this was totally medical and functional and that her concern was for my well being. She took the glass and left saying, in a few days, we will try again. She returned a short time later with the glass now clean and dry. She placed it on my nightstand I think as a reminder of what would be expected of me.

After dinner she told me that she was pleased with the progress of my bowels. She also said that I would only be receiving daily multiple enemas for the first 6 days - then we would see what we needed to do. It was then time for a bath. She always drew my bath for me, had a towel and washcloth ready and my now familiar night shirt laid out. While I was soaking in the tub, she was busying herself in my bedroom. I could hear her putting the bed covers down and things unwrapping. She bustled into the bathroom like I was not even there, with one of the syringes in her hand. Without a word, she filled it with more mineral oil. I told her that I though we were finished with enemas for today - her reply was that this wasn't really an enema, just something to help me through the night.

After she finished her work in my room, she came back into the bath to give me my scrubbing. Just like a baby, she once more scrubbed every part of me. I was allowed to soak for a few more minutes, then she came in to get me out - dried me completely and did her usual nightly inspection of my privates. She then led me into the bath where I was totally taken aback.

There spread out on the bed was one of the adult sized diapers she had brought home the other night. The syringe filled with mineral oil and several tubes of ointment were on the night stand along with some shaving cream and razor. A fresh towel and a basin with water and a washcloth were on the table as well. First she laid out another one of the large pads like she had used before and told me to lay down on it. She said that with the accident I had after the soap enema and the fact that my skin seemed delicate and that she would need to treat it, I would need to wear the diaper at night and also because of all that, she needed to make it easier on her to clean me by getting rid of what hair I had. She proceeded to lather me up and completely shave every last trace of hair from my privates and bottom.

Once this was complete, she slid the pad out from under me and adjusted the diaper so it would close properly around me. Once she was satisfied, she picked up the syringe and injected the mineral oil up my rectum. The next step was to "protect" my delicate skin as she put it. A thick coating of desitin ointment and then something else ( guessed it to be Vaseline) was applied to all of my diaper area. I looked down a couple of times and thought how funny I looked all white and gooey, sticking straight up into the air. She finally seemed pleased with her work and went to tape the diaper on me.

I quickly asked about the oil. Her comment with a smile was, it needs to stay in until the morning. She understood accidents and that is what the diaper was for but that I should really try to hold it in all night.