This is a rewrite of a previous work. The original story was semi-autobiographical, but was not fully compliant with the rules. The version of the story has been edited to comply fully with the guidelines.

My childhood home had a wealth of books. My Dad fancied himself to be a bit of a self taught lawyer so we had a collection of Black’s Law Textbooks. Back in the olde days supermarkets would have encyclopedia promotions, buy X dollars worth of groceries, get a volume of an encyclopedia set for 79 cents. My dad had gotten me a subscription to the “Science Fiction Book Of The Month” club. Books abounded.

The one set that captivated my attention was “The Encyclopedia Of Health” by Bernarr McFadden. Originally published in the 1920’s or 30’s, it was a beautifully bound eight volume set. McFadden was one of the original health nuts advocating healthy eating, exercising, and generally a very clean lifestyle. Volume seven was the key that unlocked a whole new world of interest. This book had an extensive section on enemas, colonic irrigation, and every other sort of anal aquatics imaginable.

My brain soaked up all this information and I thought some day I might be able to experience some of the amazing things I had read about. Of course, the books were well illustrated with appropriately discrete photos, further enhancing the erotic appeal.

As luck would have it, during my nineteenth year I came down with some sort of upper respiratory disease that sent me to the hospital for ten days. I ended up in a four bed ward with three other guys. Our days were spent talking about the guy stuff, reading books, and generally being bored out of our skulls. This was well before cell phones or I-Pads. On the second or third morning a kindly looking elderly nurse walked into the room pushing a little cart. On the cart was a towel partially covering what I knew to be two enema cans. I had seen what they looked like from the encyclopedia. The nurse went to the boy in the first bed and asked him in what she thought was a quiet voice, “Have you had a BM lately?” From the blank look on his face he did not know what a “BM” meant. She asked him directly if he had pooped lately, he responded that he had just gone when he got up this morning. As she repeated her inquiries with the other two guys my heart and mind were racing. If I said I had gone recently I would miss my first solid opportunity for an enema. If I accepted her offer, would the other guys embarrass me with kidding or ridicule?

She approached my bed pushing her little cart and asked, “Have you had a BM lately?”

“No Ma’am, it’s been a couple days.” My fate was sealed. She reached behind herself and pulled the privacy curtain closed. “I’m going to have to give you an enema to fix that. Do you know what an enema is? Have you ever had one before?”

“I know what they are, but I’ve never had one before,” I responded. Self doubt was starting to creep into my mind. What if I didn’t like it? What if it hurt? Too late to change my mind now.

“I need you to pull your pajama bottoms down and lay on your left side. This won’t hurt, and you’ll feel better when it’s done. I was beginning to feel a little lightheaded with anticipation. The encyclopedia had never mentioned the possibility of it being unpleasant. I knew that I was on a one way street. Next stop, “The Enema Zone.”

I assumed the position and prepared myself for the inevitable. She took the towel from on top of the two cans and folded it. Putting a pinky finger in one of the cans she pronounced it still warm enough. She picked up a little jar of vaseline and said, “I’m gonna put a little grease on your butt to make it easier.” She reached across me and lifted one cheek, putting a little dab on my butt-hole, then picked up the tube and greased the nozzle. “I’m gonna put this in you now, kinda bear down like you’re trying to poop. This won’t hurt.”

The nozzle slid in easily, and new and strange feelings began to take over. I had never experienced someone touching me so intimately. I had done a little bit of butt stuff, but nothing felt like this. This was turning into a bit more than I had expected.

“I’m going to let the water in now.” I heard the click of the clamp being released, and the rush of the warm water began to fill my tummy. “Just take deep breaths and relax, this won’t take long,” the nurse reassured me. She had left the can sitting on the cart, so it was not a whole lot higher than the bed. It must have been a slow day on the floor because she seemed in no big hurry to finish up. The slow flow of water continued. She noticed me wince from a sudden cramp and pinched the tube, “That pain will pass quickly,” she reassured me.

I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting to feel from the enema. I was not quite sexually aware yet, but my penis was having the usual male response to all the stimuli. The water slowly filling me was a rather pleasant feeling. The soft, warm hands of the nurse felt wonderful as they moved on me. This new experience was definitely worth a few cramps. The nurse looked into the can and told me we were about half way done. “I’m going to hold the tube in you, I want you to roll onto your back,” she directed me. I was a little apprehensive to do this, as I had a bit of an erection. She paid no attention of course, and flipped the sheet up onto me to cover my little stiffy. “You’re doing very well, we’ll be finished soon, I’m going to raise the can to get the last bit in,” she said.

The sudden extra burst of pressure felt incredible. I was experiencing so many new and very good feelings I didn’t want things to be over quite yet. Could I get more enemas while I was here? Would I be able to find some way to have an enema at home. I wanted this new and totally enjoyable thing to be a part of my life. I heard a slight gurgle from the can, “All done, you did very well. You took all the solution in the can. You weren’t quite as constipated as I thought. You said it has been a few days since you pooped?”

“I think it was, I’m not sure. It might have been sooner, I don’t know.” Was I in trouble? Did she figure out that I had pooped a bunch the night before? She seemed to drop the subject and said with a little smile, “You did a good job taking the enema, if you need another sometime you’ll know what to expect. Pull your ‘jammy bottoms up and I’ll help you to the toilet. You’ll be on the toilet for a while, you took a lot of water. I’ll check back with you in a while to make sure you’re done.”

As I pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet, a feeling of accomplishment came over me. I had succeeded in fulfilling a deep desire. The sexual aspects paled in comparison to the sensuous feelings I experienced. The warmth and contact with the nurse. Her warm hands and warm words were wonderful. I had no idea where or how I could pursue my new interest, but I knew it would not be just a passing fad. Something had been awakened which would not again slumber.