This is the true story of a boy who had a fascination for Enemas for as long as he could remember.

Some of my earliest memories are of looking in the Sears & Roebuck catalog, fascinated by the page of Enema equipment. I would study the pictures and wording, all the while trying to imagine what an Enema felt like. To this day, I am puzzled about how I even knew what an Enema was? Never-the-less, somehow I had a basic understanding if not a memory. Each time a new catalog would arrive, I would wait for a time I could take it to my room and look for anything new. Just to be safe, I would always take it back to the reading room and leave it open to the bicycle pages.

One day, my mother asked me to get something from her closet. As I rummaged around the shelves, a box slipped off a high shelf and fell to the floor. As I stooped to pick it up, my heart skipped a beat or two when I realized it was a Sears hot water bottle. I opened the box and discovered that not only was it a hot water bottle, but the deluxe model complete with Enema hose and nozzles! I wanted to study the contents, but knew mother would be waiting. Quickly returning it to the shelf, I hurried to the kitchen so as not to generate any suspicion. Why I thought mother would be suspicious I don’t recall, but the thought of anyone finding out that I was fascinated by Enema equipment was beyond my worst fear.

From then on, I waited for any chance to go to the closet and look at my discovery. At every opportunity, I would open the box, screw the adapter with hose in and imagine I had the hose in my little virgin hole with water flowing in. Although I didn’t know what it would feel like, somehow I knew it would be good. At the tender age of six years, there was no way I would ever be left alone for any period of time, so I had to be discreet.

After an accident which resulted in a broken arm at 18, I began experiencing severe fatigue and losing weight. I didn’t have any weight to spare, so was taken to the doctor for evaluation. After an examination in his office, the doctor asked to talk to my mother outside. A few minutes later, they returned and told me that they had decided to put me in the hospital for some tests to see what was wrong. Within two hours, I was in the gastric ward of the local hospital, tucked into a white bed with sides. I was somewhat embarrassed by the sides in that I hadn’t needed sides for years, but when I objected, the nurse told me that everyone, no matter how old, had to have sides on their bed. Ok, so I had to put up with that humiliation, what was next.

I didn’t have long to wait! A nurse arrived at my cubicle pushing a cart. It was obvious that there was something on the cart, but it was covered with a large white towel. She rolled it right up by my bed, then pulled a curtain shut at the end of my cubicle. Having no idea what was happening, I began to get a bit worried. What was she going to do? Was I going to get a shot? A moment later, she asked, “Have you ever had an Enema?” My heart was fluttering as I shook my head no. She said, “Well, it won’t hurt a bit, and I’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible.” With that, she lifted the towel and I saw the equipment. It didn’t look anything at all like the Sears catalog. It was a porcelain can that I judged to be about two quarts in size. Out of the side near the bottom snaked a tan colored hose with a slight bulge at the end. There was no nozzle like the one in mother’s Enema bag.

The nurse had me slide over on the bed while she positioned the towel, then had me slide back and lay on my left side. I peeked over my shoulder to see her lift up the can and aim the hose into the bedpan. A second later, water squirted out of the hose, and she clicked the clamp shut. AH HA! That’s what I did wrong, I didn’t let the air out of the hose. “OK, I’m going to put the hose in, just relax.” I felt her hand on my quivering cheek as she lifted, then the feel of the cool lubricated hose press against my virginity. The pressure increased, then it just slipped in. FANTASTIC! I could feel the hose sliding smoothly home. The nurse said, “Are you ready?”

I didn’t reply, in that it seemed as if she was in charge and no matter what I said, it was going to happen. I heard the “Snap” as the clamp was opened. For just an instant I felt nothing, and thought, “So, she can’t get it in either!” Then, she picked up the can and began raising it, higher and higher. Simultaneously, I felt the water running in, cool for just an instant, then deliciously warm as the hose was purged. For a couple of minutes I was thinking, “Man, this is great, and the only reason I didn’t get to feel it two years ago is that I didn’t know enough to lift the bag.” “OH OH! I’m full, man, I gotta GO!” I told the nurse that I had enough, but she just smiled and told me to take some deep breaths. She lowered the can a little and sure enough as I took deep breaths, the pressure eased a bit. Still, I was getting fuller and fuller, and the need to go was becoming more and more urgent. After what was beginning to seem like an eternity, she finally said that I had taken enough, and stopped the water.

The hose was gently slipped out, and she told me I could turn onto my back. That was a bit more comfortable, so I tried to relax. Where was I going to go? I hadn’t seen a bathroom anywhere, and it was obvious that I was going to have to go somewhere and soon! The nurse went to the foot of the bed and began to crank the head up a few turns. Then, she took the bed pan, (I hadn’t realized what a bed pan was) and told me to raise my hips. She slipped the pan under me and said to press the call button when I was finished. In due course, it seemed as if everything I had inside me for the last six months had been flushed out was gone. I pressed the button and in a moment or two the nurse came back. She slipped the pan out, then patted my arm and said she was glad I had been a good boy for her instead of fighting it .

As I relaxed and recovered from my first Enema, I reflected a bit. While I was embarrassed about showing my bare bottom to the nurse, and having her look at my little ass hole, all in all it wasn’t bad. At least now I knew what a real Enema felt like! In the meantime I witnessed another child getting his Enema. Or at least I heard. This kid was probably about eight years old, and it took three nurses to administer his Enema. He screamed, he yelled, he fought until they finally completed the task.

I wondered when I would ever get another. Well, I had only twenty four hours to wonder. The next afternoon, the nurse came back and repeated the procedure. When she rolled the cart in, she said, “Are you ready for your Enema?” I asked why I needed another one. She said that the doctor needed samples from way up inside me and that was the only way to get them. I slid over and watched as she prepared the Enema. It went about like the previous day, only this time I tried to breath deep as soon as the water started flowing. The next four days went the same, an Enema every afternoon. There was one difference. While I didn’t know why, after the second day I began getting an erection as soon as I heard the cart coming. I was careful to keep it hidden from the nurse, and by the time I finished expelling it was always gone.

The last day it was different. She came in saying that the doctor said he needed samples from way way high, and she had to give me a really BIG Enema. I couldn’t see anything different in the equipment, so didn’t thing much about it. She started the Enema running, and pretty soon I said I was full and wanted her to stop. She said that I had to take more, and to breathe really deep. She didn’t stop the water, but just kept it going and going. Man! Was I full, but still it kept coming. Finally I said that I just couldn’t hold any more and she had to stop. She snapped the clamp shut, but said that I still had to take some more. I insisted that I couldn’t hold any more, but she said that if I trusted her, she would help me to take it all. She told me to turn onto my back. I was reluctant because my little cock was standing up as tall as a tree, even if a short tree. Still she insisted, so I slowly turned onto my back, horrified to see my gown hanging as if from the center pole of a tent.

I saw a little smile as she glanced away, and knew she had seen. After letting me rest for a moment or two, she slowly began the flow, all the while talking and joking with me. At long last she said, “It’s all gone.” I could hardly wait to get the pan under me, and instead of holding on until she got out of the cubicle, I let it go. When I finally emptied myself of everything, I pressed the button. When she came back she said, “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I shook my head, then she patted my arm and once again said that she was glad that I didn’t scream and fight. It was hard enough to make us comfortable without all the fussing.

The next morning, the doctor came by and said I could go home. I asked if my favorite nurse was there, because I wanted to say goodbye to her, but it was her day off. I never saw her again, but I never forgot giving my virginity to her, SIX TIMES!