It was a Saturday. I was 8 or 9.
"Did you move your bowels today?" "No." "After lunch, we will take care of that." I knew very well what that meant. Playing in the basement, I couldn't help but think about that red rubber bulb squirting me in the rear. My little pecker was hard.
Lunchtime came. As I ate, I thought about getting my bum filled. Mom sat opposite me at the table. "After lunch I'll give you an enema." I knew I would like that, but still there was always that dread. One never knew when my older sister would make an appearance. But she was away for the weekend. "When you are finished, come up to the bathroom". "Okay."
I knew she was up there getting things ready. She always got the soapy water ready in a big pitcher. She always spent a lot of time getting the ivory soap mixture just right. Always very soapy and very warm. I could hear the water running, the mixing in the pitcher.
"Come on upstairs, I'm ready for you." I went upstairs with the usual rubber legs. When I walked into the bathroom, there on the counter was a white porcelain container. I hadn't seen this before, ever. It was pure white, about as big as the pitcher that sat next to it. The pitcher was full of the usual milky white soapsuds mixture. The porcelain container had an outlet at the bottom. Amber tubing was attached to it. The tubing was coiled up inside the container. Out of the top of the container was something else I had never seen. It was a red rubber tube, open on the end, with a side opening. It winked at me like a snake. I knew exactly what it was going to be used for.
"Take your shoes and pants off, like always."
Mom uncoiled the hose and the red rubber snake and hung the apparatus from the hook on the wall. "I am going to give you an enema with this 'irrigator', like we use in the hospital." I stood in awe at the contraption. It had a metal clamp on the tubing which she snapped shut. She poured the whole pitcher of soapsuds into it. She knew what she was doing. She opened the clamp, letting solution run into the sink. "To let the air out".
"Now, I want you to kneel in front of the tub, then bend over the edge." I did as I was told, bending over, exposing my bum. She came up behind me, Vaseline jar in hand, and dipped her finger. I looked back and saw she had a big glob of lubricant on her finger. She spread my cheeks with one hand and pushed lubricant into me, followed by her finger going deep inside me in a circular motion. She went deep enough to be able to know that "You certainly need this enema today". "When was the last time you went?" "I don't remember."
She removed her finger and then proceeded to lubricate the red tube with more Vaseline. "I am going to use this rectal tube for your enemas, from now on. (Ah, so that's what that is, a 'rectal tube") "I won't use the little squeeze bulb anymore, that's for babies, and special enemas". I didn't ask what "special enemas" meant. I would find out sometime in the future.
The fingers spread my cheeks again, one of the fingers entered my anus. When she removed her finger, the rectal tube was already in me. I heard a click, and the fluid started into me. She clicked it off after 5-10 seconds. She waited, then opened up the flow again. She would stop every few seconds. "Let me know when you think you can't hold it." I told her right off. She stopped the flow and rubbed my belly. "Tell me when the pressure stops." OK. Starting and stopping, she got most of the enema into me. When I thought I would explode, she slid the rectal tube out of me. I got up and got right on the toilet.
She stayed in the bathroom, rinsing the irrigator out. The turds and suds rolled out of me. "Tell me when you are done. I want to inspect the results." The "results" were always important. She left the bathroom, but came back when I yelled I was done. She came in, looked at the mud in the toilet, then knelt in front of me and pressed on my belly in different areas. "I'm going to give you another enema."