By h2obutt

h2obutt@hotmail.com

Copyright 2000 by h2obutt, All Rights Reserved

[Disclaimer: While inspired by actual events, I have taken several liberties in the depiction of behavior by medical professionals. As usual, the names have been changed to ...]

We walked into the diner as about 1:00PM, but instead of making it my usual main meal of the day, I chose a light breakfast order of eggs, bacon and white toast. It would be the last food I would have until the evening meal the following night and I was trying to ease into the prescribed 24 hour fast. My PCP had given me brief instructions over the phone, followed up by the mailing of an information package; Fast for twenty-four hours before the appointment. Take one Fleet enema the night before and two Fleet enemas the following day, ideally no more than an hour or so before the office visit. At the tender age of 53, I was about to experience my first Sigmoidoscopy.

Actually, I couldn't wait to get home that evening. The wife knew I had scheduled the Sig, and I had license to claim the bathroom for most of the evening and would be able to enema all night, if I so desired. I mean the real thing... no Fleet enemas for me!

I started with a very warm, almost hot, 2-quart water and baking soda solution. First, I air-bled the hose and Double-inflatable nozzle with very warm tap water and closed the heavy-duty stainless steel flow clamp. Next, I hung the light-blue closed top bag relatively low using a hook, cord and pulley arrangement I had engineered for such occasions. The bulging blue bag looked so incredibly inviting... warm and comforting. I pulled one of the fluffy spare pillows out of the bathroom closet and propped it up against the tub. I used a liberal dollop of water-based lubricant to ready myself and soon thereafter, laid down on my back, knees flexed, lower legs elevated pseudo stirrup-style with one foot resting on the toilet seat and the other on top of the small swivel stool. So positioned my knees were a little over 2-feet apart which gave me a full-reflected view of the situation through the full-length door-mounted mirror. Hanging from the bag's connector cap I could see the two-sectioned length of virgin-white ribbed enema hose. I firmly closed down the air valve on the Double-inflatable nozzle rectal tube. I gave the single-inflator bulb a partial squeeze; just enough to give the two smooth balloons a little bit of body. Arrangements complete, I relaxed a few moments and congratulated myself on my great preparation and then enjoyed an anticipatory minute of pre-enema excitement.

I moved the flexible but slightly rigid tip of the colon tube to the closed outer ring of my sphincter muscle. I was applying a very-slow, gentle but firm push on the inflatable nozzle tube. I wanted to enjoy the whole process and took my time. The balloon nearest the tip was gradually working its way into my body. The pace was slow and deliberate. I could feel my outer sphincter muscle stretch and expand to accommodate the balloon as it worked its way inward. It was a very pleasant experience. That exhilaration paled, however, to the sensation after the first balloon was at the halfway mark. Once that point was passed, my sphincter seemed to "swallow" the partially inflated balloon in a sort-of single-gulp reflex, and aided by the super-slick lubricant that coated the tight opening and first few inches of my rectum, the balloon slid quickly and smoothly all the way in. At the same time, the muscular ring of my sphincter closed down tightly onto the short narrow neck of the rectal tube just between the inner-body and outer-body balloons.

With the device comfortably seated and in its place, it was time to grow the inflatable yellow latex orbs. I firmly compressed the single-inflator bulb and immediately felt the twin balloons grow in size, one expanding inside me and the other trying to push the cheeks of my buttocks apart to accommodate its expanded shape. By squeeze number six the two balloons had grown from the size of a hard-boiled egg to that of an overgrown tennis-ball. I was in a state of sensory bliss. There was now a single 10-millimeter channel into my backside. I let my eyes follow the ribbed-white solution laden hose back to the connector cap at the bottom of the bulged-out pregnant-looking bag. Soon its contents, aided by gravity, would flood my body and with the inflated Double-inflatable nozzle sealing me watertight, I would have no choice but to take it in. I wanted to take it in. I wanted to take it all in.

The distinctive click of the flow clip opening was followed by the wonderfully warm surge of the enema solution beginning its journey into my body. The heat radiated from the tip and side eyelet irrigation holes of the inflatable nozzle tube and began to move as a slow gentle wave of glowing warmth upward through my body. I closed my eyes and focused on the pleasant radiant heat. As the moments passed I could occasionally hear the muffled gurgle-like sound of the enema solution pooling in an area then surging forward to gently fill and flood a new area. After several minutes the gradual creeping feeling of fullness would not be ignored. My eyes opened to fall upon a collapsed bag, totally devoid of the warm liquid and partially drawn by a negative vacuum created by my total consumption of the enema. I snapped the stainless-steel flow clamp shut and praised myself for completing the whole bag. My job was now to hold my enema for a reasonable length of time. This first enema, I would retain for 10-minutes. I knew as the solution gradually gave up its heat to my body that it would become increasingly uncomfortable to hold. As it cooled I could expect my distended abdomen to experience a few mild cramps, but nothing I couldn't handle. For me, enemas are primarily a sexual thing, and even though the purported purpose (this time) was preparation for a Sigmoidoscopy, I was and would remain sexually excited throughout the entire, drawn-out process that would include 4 more fillings.

After fulfilling my retention goal, I moved to the toilet, gently opened the inflator valve and let the balloons gradually deflate. As the balloons approached their quiescent state the inner-body balloon easily slid out and I moved the inflatable nozzle to the sink. I rid myself of the enema as thoroughly as possible and readied myself for another 2-quarts.

For Enema two, I used Caress bar soap dissolved in water as hot as I could stand it with my hands immersed in the solution. By experience I knew this to be between 110-112 Degrees F. I used enough soap to give the water a near opaque slightly pink cast. The mechanics of the procedure were nearly identical to my first enema. I knew this enema would be more difficult and much more uncomfortable to retain. Knowing that the inflated balloons would guarantee retention for as long as my mind could stand it, I set my retention goal for 15 minutes. Strangely enough, the anticipation of what was about to happen had the effect of heightening my sexual arousal. I've never understood why, but it always seems to happen that way. My hand seemed to quiver as I clicked the flow-clamp open to begin my second enema.

My body sensed the change in solution immediately. The hotter temperature was also apparent and the flow rate had seemed to increase. The elevated temperature of the solution seamed to balance out the mildly irritating and churning effect of the soap and made the enema easier to take in. As the blue bag gave up its last few drops of the soapy mixture I closed the stainless-steel clamp. I felt much fuller than during my first enema. It was much more of a struggle to bare and I found myself raising my butt off the bathroom floor and rotating my hips in a vain attempt to quiet things down. I tried changing the cadence and depth of my breathing, massaging my abdomen and shifting my body position. Nothing worked, but having survived the first 7 or 8 minutes I knew I would make it all the way... and I did.

The frothy white suds filling the bottom of the toilet attested to the thorough job done by enema number two but it was also apparent there were probably more than a few bubbles still in my colon necessitating a comprehensive rinse. Enema three was a cakewalk and lasted 30-minutes.

Enema four, by any stretch of the imagination, had absolutely nothing to do with preparation for the Sig. It was one of my favorite special enemas consisting of a full pot of black coffee, cooled to precisely 115 F. The temperature made both the taking and retention of the enema an almost effortless undertaking. I held the coffee enema for almost an entire hour and enjoyed a nice caffeine buzz to boot.

All good things come to an end, and so did enema four. I comforted myself with the fact that I would require a very thorough rinsing enema to "destroy the evidence" so-to-speak. I used the water and baking soda solution for my last enema and also made it very warm, about 112 degrees. I let myself get really into it. After taking every drop the bag had to offer I closed the clamp and got to my feet. I quickly filled the two-quart measuring pitcher about halfway and poured it into the empty bag. I quickly re-hung the bag and got back to my previous position. When I was settled, I gave myself a few moments to "phych myself up" and clicked the flow clamp open. I took almost another quart and snapped the flow clamp closed. I was ready to burst but wanted to hold on a few moments more. I reached for the jar of Pond's Cold Cream and dipped a few fingers inside the jar. I then moved them to my very erect penis and immediately exploded in sexual climax. It was so intense, for a few brief moments I forgot all about the massive enema I was holding.

I relieved myself and took a hot shower. Absolutely clean, inside and out I crawled into bed and snuggled up against the wife and fell asleep almost immediately. I slept like a baby. It was a real struggle getting up for work in the morning, but I managed and spent a very hungry but otherwise uneventful morning in the office. The Sig was scheduled for 2:30 and it would take me 45 minutes to get there so I joined my friends at lunch and just had coffee (in a cup).

I arrived at the Doctor's office a few minutes early and checked in. Dr. Martin had a Nurse Practitioner working with him and she introduced herself as Sandy. She looked like she was in her early-forties, and although I wouldn't put her in the "Raving Beauty" category she was attractive, somewhat tall, medium framed with breasts that seamed amply appropriate for her size. She was very friendly, shook my hand, and explained that she would be assisting Dr. Martin during my procedure. She said we would be going upstairs to the Special Care Suite and led me in that direction. As we walked she asked in a rather conversational mode if this was my first procedure. I told her it was and she then asked weather or not I had followed the directions for preparation on the information package that had been mailed to me. I laughed and assured her I was as clean as a hound's tooth and added that I had done so "The old fashioned way". She laughed and said she was glad, otherwise they would have had to reschedule me. We passed through a few doors and she led me into a room much larger than the smaller examination rooms downstairs. She began a show-and-tell and explained what they would be doing. Sandy then gave me a Johnny and pointed out several hooks where I could hang my clothing. She said when I was ready to sit on the table and assured me that she and Dr. Martin would join me in a few minutes.

Sandy and Dr. Martin entered the room. Sandy was still wearing the white office coat she had on earlier but it was covered with a bib-like almost floor length apron. The doctor appeared ready for major surgery and looked comically lost in an apparently disposable top and apron. We exchanged greetings and they had me position myself on the table lying on my left side with my knees slightly bent. The doctor did a quick digital-rectal exam and then got ready for the procedure. Sandy was explaining to me that from time to time they would probably introduce some air from a pump into my rectum to help move the instrument forward. She told me not to be embarrassed and to let it out anytime I felt like it. I had been propping my head up with my left arm but Sandy had me put my head down on the pillow. The doctor, I assume, began moving the Sigmoidoscope into my rectum. They didn't seem to be in a terrible hurry and Sandy was still in explanation mode telling me that they would move the instrument up to the junction of my transverse colon and that they would actually do the close examination on the way out. I tried to comfort myself with the hope that maybe it was Sandy moving that thing so deeply into my body. Maybe she was, because she was the one rattling off the penetration in precise centimeteric units. She frequently asked how I was doing and assuring me things were going well "down here".

They used the air pump for a few seconds on a half-dozen occasions and each time Sandy gave me a warning just before and would again ask how I was doing immediately after. Dr. Martin hardly uttered a word during the entire procedure, but then again, I wasn't very verbose either. Sandy reported "We're at the end" and sited a metric unit of penetration that I do not recall. I had not experienced any cramping and although so deep a penetration was a strange sensation it was in no way painful. I estimated about 10-12 minutes had passed since the procedure had begun. Sandy commented, "Well, you certainly are clean." and Dr, Martin concurred.

They both laughed. I heard the pump go on for a few seconds, then Sandy explained "What we were laughing about is as soon as we moved the scope back a little we had a river of water come toward the lens." "We suctioned it off with the pump." Dr. martin laughed again and pointed out to Sandy the appearance of what he identified as soap bubbles on the fringe of the illuminated area. The close examination continued as the instrument was slowly backed out. For the last 12 inches or so of my rectum Sandy told me they would actually curl the tip of the instrument around and have a good look-see. Completing the examination, Dr. Martin said he would see me downstairs shortly, and left the room. Sandy put a few things away and said she would wait for me outside.

I dressed and walked out to the receptionist's counter in the Special Care Suite. Sandy escorted me downstairs to the main office making small talk on the short journey. She walked me into one of the small examination rooms and as she was leaving said she would have Dr. Martin come right in. Several moments later, he did.

The rest of my annually scheduled physical was pretty routine. Dr. Martin did his stethoscope, eyes, ears and rubber hammer thing. He asked the usual plethora of medical questions and made occasional notes. After finishing his personal examination he said he would see me shortly after his assistant finished up my exam, and with that he left the room. His assistant was Karen, a short, cute and friendly young lady in her early thirties. Karen did my EKG, blood pressure and weight. When Karen was done she said that I could wait for Dr. Martin in his office at the end of the short hall. Dr. Martin joined me after a few minutes, EKG strip in hand and said that generally, everything so far looked just fine but that they had found a small polyp about 10 centimeters up. He said it was not uncommon and comforted me with statistics and medical factoids. He added that it was standard protocol for him to order a complete examination of the entire colon, a Colonscopy, and that it would be a referral to an associated physician. It would be an outpatient procedure at the hospital a few miles away. All that was left was my blood-work and urine, a job for the on-premise lab just down the hall. I was instructed to check back in at the reception desk when finished at the lab and that they would make arrangements for my referral.

At the lab, I pissed, I bled and then I returned to the reception area outside Dr. Martin's office. Sandy was standing behind the receptionist's desk and took the papers from me. She handed them off to the receptionist and grabbed a few forms. She escorted me back upstairs to the Special Care Suite chatting all the way, and I was starting to like her... a lot.

Sandy conferred with the receptionist at the Special Care desk, and after confirming my availability, they set me up, 3 days out, with the other doctor. It would be a short consultation visit as a precursor to scheduling the actual Colonscopy in a week or so.

A consultation later, I arrived at the hospital at 8:00AM to check in for the outpatient procedure. For the patients who actually make it this far, the actual Colonoscopy is no big deal because you're heavily sedated and almost in 'La-La-Land'. I say 'For the patients who actually make it this far' because the vast majority of patients, I'm sure, die the previous night trying to drink an entire gallon of the most God-awful concoction ever created by medical science, probably in conspiracy with an alleged pharmaceutical firm. Three hours later I was a polyp lighter, on my way home and hungry enough to eat a horse. I was scheduled for a follow-up visit at Dr. Martin's office two weeks later.

The morning of my follow-up, I was off-site at a business meeting. It ended earlier that expected but I had insufficient time to return to my regular office and still make my 1:00PM appointment. I decided to kill a little time at a nearby mall and then go directly to Dr. Martin's office.

When I arrived, there were only three people in the office, Sandy, Karen and the receptionist. They had been trying to reach me since the office had opened to reschedule me as they had most of the other patients. Dr. Martin had been called away on an emergency and would not have coverage by another physician until the following day. They had managed to cancel or reschedule everyone but me and another patient who was scheduled to come in at 4:00PM. I was being difficult with the receptionist about my near future availability. Sandy picked up my medical folder while I was negotiating with the receptionist and after a few moments asked Karen if she could make herself available to assist doing my follow-up examination. Karen agreed and then Sandy asked me how much time I that I had available. I told her I had the rest of the day. Sandy said she could perform the examination, but added that I'd need to contact Dr. Martin when he returned for final results. I eagerly agreed. The receptionist seamed delighted with the resolution of yet another scheduling nightmare and left the reception desk with several medical files heading in the direction of the records room. Karen started to go upstairs to the Special Care Suite while Sandy continued to review my folder.

After a few minutes we followed Karen's route. On the way, Sandy asked me about my preparation for the exam and I told her I had done the 24 hour fast, and enemas the previous evening, but had come directly from a meeting and had not had time to get home and do the '1 hour before' enema. She laughed and said, "Well, we have the time now!" Once in the suite, she led me past the receptionist counter and past the large treatment room into a somewhat smaller room. Karen was already there. One end of the room was wall to wall stainless steel counters, several sinks and glassed cabinetry. In the center of the room was a small examination table with adjustable, elevated leg rests. An open door off to the side of the room led into a small lavatory.

Karen gave me a Johnny and said I could change in the small bathroom. I got undressed and re-entered the examination room. Looking directly at me Sandy patted the top of the small exam table and said "Sit right up here and lay on your back." Karen was at the sink and soon there was steam coming up from the running hot water. Once on my back, I had to keep my knees pretty bent to fit on the table. I had draped the Johnny so that it covered my knees, but it was not too long a garment and I was sort of holding it to prevent it from falling back. Noticing my difficulty, Sandy cast an empathetic smile in my direction and told me that I would need to scootch my bottom up toward the edge of the table. Don't worry about it and forget the modesty." "You're legs will be up in these momentarily; the Johnny is just to keep you warm up top." She was grinning at Karen and added, "We've seen it all before... Just try to relax." I didn't know what to say or do, but did comply and moved my butt up to the edge of the table. Sandy lifted my legs one by one into the valley of the leg supports. I imagine the view at their end of the table would have best been described as 'wide-open'.

Karen had a pretty big cylindrical stainless steel can on the counter with a good length of amber hose attached to the connector port on the side and near the bottom of the can. A few traces of soapsuds drizzled down the side of it and a faint mist of steam was visible at the rim. Resting in the container and protruding several inches out was an instrument I identified as a thermometer. Karen reported "I think this is just about ready." Sandy said "Great." and opened a drawer retrieving what looked like a solid black Double-inflatable nozzle style nozzle. It had two black balloons in tandem near the business end of the black tube, two black inflator bulbs with metal valves and a third black bulb in the body of the tube near the hose connector. I don't know if it was for intimidation, education or just to get me excited, but Sandy started giving me an explanation and demonstration of how it worked, told me how she would put it in and a speculative interpretation of what it might feel like to me. She accomplished all three... I was intimidated, educated and very excited.

I always hated digital-rectal exams, that is, until Sandy's. It was smooth, deep and not done in a hurry. Her latexed long slender finger examined the first four inches or so of my rectum and then pushed in a little deeper to find and examine my prostate gland. Her slow circular withdrawal insured I was well lubricated for the inflatable nozzle. My penis was right out there in the middle of the whole picture, but it wasn't in her way because it was standing straight up in full erection. Neither one of them said a single word about my condition, but Karen put a big smile on her face and said, "Just try to concentrate on relaxing, Sandy does great enemas." Sandy chuckled at Karen's remark and simply added through a laugh, "I've certainly done a few..." and directing the rest of her comment to me, she continued "Don't pay any attention to us!"

That was really hard to do, and I totally ignored her suggestion." Sandy was ready and had me take a deep, deep breath and then let it out through my mouth while bearing down with a slight push in my backside. In one quick movement the inner-body balloon had slid smoothly and easily all the way inside me and was properly seated. Without missing a beat Sandy had already begun to inflate the inner balloon and asked me "Can you feel it growing?" I answered "Yes" but I wasn't sure we were talking about the same thing.

After a half-dozen squeezes Sandy slowed down and with her other hand began to inflate the outside balloon, one squeeze then she wold pause briefly before applying a second. She stopped, momentarily, examining the size and position of the outside balloon. Another two squeezes inside, one outside. Then she slid two of her fingers under the outside balloon and tugged gently, but firmly enough to test the tightness of the seal she had created. Sandy asked me if everything felt comfortable and I answered with a carefully chosen "Yes" when even the word 'ecstasy' fell way short of the mark.

Setting some expectations for me Sandy asked how large an enema I had taken at home, to which I answered, "Two-quarts." She said that was great, but this would be just a little more, 3000 cc's. She added that Karen had made it a slightly higher temperature enema, and that would make taking it easier. "I'm going to have you retain it about 12 minutes, Okay?" I asked if it was negotiable, and they both laughed.

"Here we go." Said Sandy. I heard the click of a metal clamp and was immediately swept away by a heavenly super-warm rush of water. Karen wanted to know how the temperature was and I indicated that it was fine. Fine, hell! The two of them had elevated this 'Clinical-Procedure' to an 'Art-Form'.

The Castile-Soaped water flowed smoothly into my body, radiating the pleasant heat upward. After taking about 1500 cc's the sensation transitioned from 'filling' to 'fullness'. That fullness would now be ever-present and only intensify in a continual spiral until the flow ceased; either by taking the whole thing or clamping off the flow. Slightly noticeable perspiration started to develop on my brow so Karen applied a cool damp cloth to my forehead and then used her fingers to begin a slow circular massage around my temples.

The enema continued to flow and eventually I started to rock my hips from side to side and a low guttural moan escaped my lips. Sandy stopped momentarily, snapping the clip shut and said I was doing fine and only had another 500 cc's to go. Sandy placed her hands on my significantly distended abdomen, pushed gently to access the situation for herself and then made several large, full-hand, circular massages to ease my discomfort. "I'll slow it down a little for you..." snap "...you're doing great!" I held on a few more moments and finally Sandy shut off the flow. I had lifted my butt up slightly off the table and was acutely aware of three sensations. The flesh covering my abdomen was stretched as tight as a drum; the pressure of the enema was desperately trying to push that balloon out of my body; and my erection was bigger than ever and throbbing.

The next ten-minutes seemed like an eternity. Sandy put her hands on my hips and gently pushed my elevated butt back to the table. "Try to lie still" she said as she switched positions with Karen. Karen almost immediately began performing the same sort of large circular massage of my abdomen that Sandy had done earlier. Sandy wiped my forehead with another damp cloth and while praising my toleration so far, minimized my ordeal by saying that a barium enema would have been significantly bigger and held much longer. Karen was doing a great job of keeping the cramps to a minimum, and although there were several, her massage quickly made them pass.

At the ten-minute mark Karen and Sandy switched positions once again. My penis was still in a state of quivering erectness. It was so sensitive I could actually feel the eddies of small air turbulence created by their bodies moving at the end of the table. I was starting to panic because I saw Sandy take the flow clip in her hand and open it. Her other hand was gripping the Double-inflatable nozzle by the in-line bulb that was near the hose connector. She squeezed the bulb with one full compression and I immediately felt a warm surge of enema squirt into my rectum. Suddenly I erupted in a spontaneous uncontrollable orgasm. It was so sudden and intense that Sandy, apparently startled, quickly grabbed my penis in her hand and was beginning to squeeze in a vain attempt to stem the tide. My back and butt were several inches off the table and my pelvis thrust forward as it trying to penetrate some mystical vagina suspended in mid-air above the table. I never wanted the rhythmic spasms to end and at least for the moment the 3,000 cc's of enema inside my body was a distant memory. Far too soon, the spasms waned.

As I collapsed back on the table The inflatable nozzle felt like it was twice it's actual size and the pressure of the massive enema was building very quickly. I think we were all frantically searching for our respective composure's. Karen was already at the sink dampening a washcloth with warm water. She took it and started cleaning my genital area and wiping up the several thick puddles that had fallen to my abdomen. Sandy said "We need to get you to that toilet." The two of them carefully helped me off the table and held on to me as I waddled toward my relief. They got me seated with the inflatable nozzle still in place. Sandy had the tube and inflator bulbs coming out from between my legs. She rotated the valve controls and the hiss of the balloons dumping their air seemed to fill the room. Very quickly the balloons deflated and the inner balloon popped out. Before I knew it Sandy had the unit in hand and was closing the door. As it shut the enema gushed from me, first in huge waves then tapering off to normalcy. I was embarrassed about my sexual accident and would have done anything to do it all over again.

Somewhat re-composed, I opened the door and walked back into the room. We all looked at each other and broke out in spontaneous laughter.