I am male, single, 22, and have spent the holidays with my grandmother at her home in northwest Connecticut. She is in her early sixties, retired, formerly chief of nursing at a naturopathic clinic and spa just outside Waterbury. My mother said she had spoken with "Grammer," as I always called her, and that my grandmother thought this might be a good time to put me on a three-day cleansing fast. I asked what this would consist of, and my mother said, "Lots of things ---- herbs and fruit juices and vitamins and something to purge your bowels." I asked if I was going to have to take castor oil, and my mother said, "Probably. Just promise me you'll do whatever Grammer tells you. She's the one who knows what will be best for you, and I know you'll feel a thousand percent better afterwards."

I remembered an enema Grammer had given me when I was about 18. She and my mother were laughing about it and calling it a "3-H'" Afterwards. my mother told me that stood for "High, Hot and a Hell of a lot!" and she wasn't kidding. My grandmother also had a regimen for treating my mother and other patients. The basis was a cleansing enema --- two quarts of hot soapsuds, given on the left side with a colon tube inserted about 8 inches (she used one something like "36 on the French scale," I think Mummy said it was). Sometimes if she felt it was needed she would follow this with a second enema of three quarts, this time with patient on her back and the tube slowly inserted up to 20 inches or so, with warm bicarbonate of soda and a heating pad over the abdomen. These two enemas would constitute her "high enema" treatment. Finally, if she felt it was necessary, she would proceed to a third enema, this one administered in the knee-chest position with the tube pushed up 32 inches and consisting of four quarts --- the first two hot and containing turpentine, followed without a break by switching over to two quarts of clear, cold water. These three enemas formed what she termed a high colonic irrigation, with 2, then 3, then 4 quarts totaling 9 quarts, or 2 1/4 gallons!. (Mummy told me that sometimes Grammer would substitute lemon juice or a milk & molasses mix instead of turpentine. Once Mummy told me how Grammer even gave her a low cleansing enema followed by a coffee enema and a second cleansing enema, because she felt she needed it.

But the worst I ever had to take from her was the "3-H" ---- the two-enema high treatment mentioned above, which she gave me to correct a stomach ache brought on by a persistent post-nasal drip following a head cold. And all of her procedures mentioned so far were single-session treatments, all completed within an hour or two at the most. I had never been put on a three-day fast before. Neither had Mummy, so she couldn't tell me what to expect, except to tell me I would have to follow Grammer's orders.

Grammer met me at the bus around noon Thursday, then drove me to her house, where there were two upstairs bedrooms separated by a good-size bathroom. I had the smaller bedroom, and as I started to unpack, Grammer came in and stood behind me, pressing her hand into my abdomen. "Why don't you get undressed?" she said. "Your stomach's hard and you should have some loose clothing." I asked what I should take off and she said, "Everything, darling. Then you can put on your bathrobe and come downstairs. Maybe Grammer will rub your belly a little bit to relax you.. Would you like that?"

I turned facing away from her and began to undress. She handed me my robe and said, "Come down when you're ready," and left the room. So my modesty was protected, and I found myself thinking this three-day business might not be so bad after all.

When I got downstairs, I sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Grammer was busy in the kitchen. Then she came out with a large drinking glass, stirring the contents with a spoon. "This isn't going to be pleasant," she said, "but you really need to have it, so might as well drink it all and get it over with." I tasted it. It was quite warm, and had a kind of sandy taste. I asked what was in it, and she told me four tablespoons of milk of magnesia plus smaller amounts of sodium bicarb, Epsom Salts and Cream of Tartar. "Your bowel has to be purged," she said, "and this should really do the trick, so go ahead and drink it down. Then I'll give you a glass of grape juice to take away the taste."

I finished my "cocktyail," and then Grammer brought a glass of cool grape juice from the kitchen and sat beside me on the couch. I lay back and closed my eyes, and she undid the belt to my bathrobe and put her hand on my abdomen and began a slow, gentle massage across my lower belly from my left to my right. It was so peaceful I found myself close to falling asleep. I was aware that her hand had moved somewhat lower, but she was talking to me in a non-threatening way about non-erotic subjects like my mother's new apartment in Queens, and her touch was very calm and professional. Either in some way that I moved or something one of us did, my robe had fallen open, so I was naked from the hips down, but when I opened my eyes I saw she was not looking there, instead fixing her gaze on me and smiling.

"You're taking this like a good boy," she said.

I said, "What are you doing?"

"Just getting you to relax," she said. "That's what you need most of all." She moved her hand even lower, and I wondered if she was going to include my penis in its wanderings.. I felt embarrassed, but I knew her medical background and reputation, and she was the very emblem of right and proper and all things ethical.

Then suddenly she stopped. "I want you to get up and take off your robe, darling," she said. "Then lie down again, this time on your stomach. I'll get a towel for you to put under you."

She went in the kitchen, and I heard a couple of drawers and cabinets opening. Then she returned, carrying a tray, I was lying naked, face down, but all I could see from where I lay was a blue bath towel, which she gave me to put under me. Then she put the tray on a table and sat down beside me, and started giving me a wonderful back massage. Here again, it was slow and gentle and here again she was working her way down, this time all the way to the base of the buttocks. At last, after maybe 20 minutes of this luxurious back rub, she gently pulled my buttocks apart, then let them return to their normal tight position, then pulled them apart again, and kept this up till suddenly her hands moved away and lost all contact with me. I said, "Aren't you going to do that any more?" She said, "Did you like that?" I said, "Very much." She said, "Well, maybe I will, and again she parted my buttocks, this time using just one hand, not two. Suddenly and smoothly, I felt a long, slender object being slid up into my rectum. I said, "Oh!...What's that?"

"Just taking your temperature, darling," she said. "It'll only take a minute, but we have to have it for the record." I said, "But why can't I have it by mouth?" "Now, don't put up a fuss," she said. "I take your mummy's temperature the same way I'm taking yours, and she doesn't argue about it. This is the way the doctors at the clinic wanted it."

I lay there silently till at last the thermometer was removed. Then she resumed the back rub. "Now turn over on your back again," she said. This time I had no robe, and found myself completely naked as she looked down at me. Once again she sat beside me and began rubbing my belly gently. Once again I gradually closed my eyes and nearly fell asleep. Once again her hand moved lower, and I decided against saying anything about it. This time she clasped her hand gently around my penis, held it just for a few seconds, then let go and resumed the abdominal massage. Again I closed my eyes. Then I heard her telling me to bend my knees and spread them wide apart. She had taken a rubber glove and a tube of KY jelly from the tray and was putting on the glove. "Have you ever had a prostate exam?" she asked. I said no. "All right," she said. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath." I closed my eyes and felt her hand closing on my penis once more. This time she held it steadily, and I felt the finger of her other hand sliding all the way up into my rectum, twisting and rotating as she performed the prostate examination.

She then withdrew the finger and released her hand from my penis. "Now, then," she said, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" Still wearing the glove, she held my testicles gently in her hand and told me to cough. She made me do this several times. "All right," she said at last. "No signs of hernia." Then she looked at her watch. "That was a big laxative I gave you ---- it should have worked by now," she said. "Do you feel any cramps? Any sign you want to have a bowel movement?" I said no. "Well, let's give it a little more time," she said, and came over to sit beside me again. Once again she let her hand stray to my penis. "Grammer wants you to relax, darling," she said. "But we have to stay on schedule." She stood up and told me to do the same. "Come in the kitchen with me," she said, and bend over the chair." Naked, I did what she asked.

Jokingly I said, "Are you going to give me a spanking?"

"Why?" she said. "Do you think you deserve one?

"No. I'm too old for that."

"No, you're not," she said.

"Well," I said, "I was just joking."

"Be careful what you joke about," she said. She was standing right behind me and my buttocks were fully exposed.

"All right," I said, "Do whatever you want to me."

I fully expected to feel the sting of her bare hand on my behind. Instead, in one swift and totally unexpected moment, I felt something being instantly inserted far deep up into my rectum.

I straightened up involuntarily. "What was that?" I asked.

"A glycerin suppository," Grammer said. "It's going to make your laxative work."

I felt a stinging sensation in my rear and almost immediately a heavy pressure in my belly. "You'd better go upstairs to the bathroom, darling," Grammer said. "Just in case."

She watched me as I went naked up the stairs to the bathroom. This time she had a womanly kind of smile on her face, as if she had something besides medical things on her mind. I found myself wondering about that as I seated myself on the john, but it turned out she was right again, and almost at once I had to start concentrating on the way that laxative was suddenly working. Whatever the mixture of the ingredients were in that "cocktail," Grammer certainly knew the correct dosage. And I must have been in the bathroom a good 30 minutes, getting rid of everything.

When I was finally done, I realized I didn't have a robe. I went naked from the bathroom to my room, and saw Grammer was in there. By now, I had no false modesty left. This after all was not only a medical practitioner but my own grandmother, someone who'd seen me undressed countless times before as I was growing up. So when I had come downstairs I stood naked in front of her and told her how well the suppository had worked.

"In a couple of days, I may give you another one," she said. "Meanwhile, I want you to have some supper and then a warm bath, and get to bed early.

Supper was an oat bran and some more grape juice and some vitamin pills. After that we watched TV for an hour or so. Then Grammer suggested I go upstairs and have my bath, and I did so. After it was over I went into my room. Grammer was not there, but I noticed she had made up my bed, and there was a rubber sheet on top of the regular bedclothes.

Somehow, I knew exactly what was going to happen next. I lay down on the bed, naked and on my left side facing the wall. The room was very warm, and I was worn out from the aggravations of the day ---- the bus ride, the prostate examinaition, most of all the powerhouse purge she made me have ---- and I fell asleep. I was awakened by the sounds of someone in the room. It was Grammer, and I turned and saw her hanging a white irrigating can on a hook on the wall over my bed. "I'm sorry I woke you up, darling," she said. "It's all right," I said. "I know," she said. "Will you let me do it to you now?" "You can do it any way you like," I said. "Yes," she said, "it's something your mummy wants you to have."

I felt her finger in my rectum, lubricating me. (Grammer told me she always lubricates the patient, never the tube itself, because greasing the tube makes it slippery and hard for the therapist to insert, especially when it has to go high up.)

Then I felt the colon tube. "Deep breaths," she ordered, and I felt a rush of hot Ivory soapsuds. As the solution flowed in, I could feel the tube being slowly pushed father into me, up to a depth of about 8 inches."

"You're taking it very well," she told me. "Three more minutes and you'll have it all."

"I know I need it," I said, and just then I felt a cramp. "Oh, mummy," I said. "Mummy's not here to hold your hand, or make me stop" my grandmother said. "You have to take it the way Grammer says to."

I began to moan, but as I did I heard her turn off the flow. "There," she said. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I went to the bathroom, then returned to my room. The rubber sheet was still on the bed. Once more I lay down on my left side. This time, Grammer and I said absolutely nothing to each other. In complete silence, she fingered my rectum to lubricate me once more, then inserted the tube and repeated the hot soap enema.

Toward the end, I cried, "Mummy! Mummy!" but Grammer simply lifted the can higher and kept making take it.

When I was finished in the bathroom, I went back to my room. The irrigating can and rubber gloves and rubber sheet were all gone. Grammer came in, kissed me on the mouth, said goodnight, and that was it.

But first thing the next morning ---- around 7 a.m. ---- she was back, this time with all the equipment plus a pitcher she could use to re-fill the can when it got down near empty. "I want you naked on your back," she said, "and pull up your knees so I can massage your rectum." She gave me a thorough rectal massage, to get me properly lubricated. "I'm going to put a heating pad on your tummy while you take this," she said, and inserted the tube and started the flow. I could feel it going well up inside me while she coaxed the tubing even farther up. Then she put the heating pad on my stomach, resting her free hand on my penis, not so much, I think, as a sexual gesture as to take my mind off the methodical way she was cleaning me out. I wound up taking the full three quarts, and began to realize why the treatment was going to be spread out over three days. My grandmother had decided she was going to empty my bowels in a manner no one ever did before.

After the usual grains-&-juice breakfast, Grammer made me drink a full one-pint bottle of Citrate of Magnesia. She wanted me naked so she could rub my tummy. After that, my temperature was taken and about an hour later I had to bend over for a suppository. I had pineapple juice instead of grape for my supper, and after supper we watched TV, then I had another bath and another high enema, lying on my back on the bed with the heating pad on my tummy. Another good-night kiss on the mouth, and I awoke the next morning, actually very refreshed. Grammer was already up and dressed and told me she wanted me naked in the bathroom. I asked her what for, and she laughed and said, "Have you ever had a high colonic?"

I said, "No, not one of those. I don't think I need one."

"Well, I think you need one," she said. "And your mummy thinks so too. I talked to her on the phone last night, and she'll be getting here this afternoon, so you can ask her in person. Meanwhile, she says it you ought to have a full cleaning out and that's what I'm going to have to give you."

I said, "But it's going to hurt."

She said, "I know. But it has to be done. I want you down in the knee-chest position on the bath mat, taking deep breaths while I let you have the French tube."

I said, "How far up are you going to push it?" She said, "All the way."

I got down in the knee-chest and said, "All right. Go ahead and do anything you want to me."

She gave me a rectal lubrication, then started the tube up inside me. I could feel the hot solution, reaching farther and farther into my intestines. "Give it to me, Grammer, give it to me!"

"Do you know you need it?" she said.

"Yes," I said, "I know. Go ahead and let me have it."

Toward the end, the water was way up inside me, but suddenly had gone to cold. I said, "Oh, mummy, that hurts." My grandmother said, "Don't call your your mummy. She can't help you. I want you to take this any way I feel like giving it to you."

She made me take the full four quarts, so in the three days I had been given two 2-quart enemas, 2 3-quart and one 4-quart, most of them with the tube far up.

That afternoon, we drove together to the bus to pick up my mother, and on the way to Grammer's house, Grammer told my mother what a good patient I had been.

Completely unexpected, and what embarrassed me the most all the time I was there, was what happened when we got back to Grammer's place. My mother was upstairs unpacking her things, and my grandmother told me to go up and take my things off and put on my robe. When I entered the guest room, my mother was standing there naked, in the middle of changing clothes. That part was all right ---- I have seen her undressed before. But she asked me why I was undressing. I said, "Grammer ordered it. It's part of the routine."

My mother seemed satisfied. "All right," she said. It was very embarrassing for me to have to disrobe in front of her, but I was committed to doing it, so I stripped naked and gave her a good look while I went to locate my robe and put it on.

Downstairs, Grammer asked me to take off the robe and lie face down on the couch.

My mother said, "What are you going to do?"

"Take his temperature," Grammer said. "I've been keeping a daily chart."

"All right, sweetheart," my mother said to me, "it'll only take a minute."

When she took out the thermometer, Grammer put it away, then called me to come into the kitchen. Again, she told me to get rid of the robe. While my mother watched, she placed me naked over the chair and let me have another glycerin suppository. "Just to be on the safe side, darling," she said to me. "What do you think, Dorothy?"

"He probably needs it," my mother said, laughing. "Give it to him good!"

"The worst part of all," she said.