Anonymous
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Views: 8206 Created: 2007.09.29 Updated: 2007.09.29

Who Put The E Into The Enema

Who Put The E Into The Enema

Right off I want to tell you this is not a true story, however it is based on true events. So then if it's based on true events how can this not be a true story?

I was just 6 years old and home sick. I laid in bed staring at my ceiling. Do you realize that you can see devil faces in the plaster ripples of a ceiling? Kind of cool and scary. To think that every night thousands of demonic faces are looking down at me. My Mother was a young Mom, just 25 years old and pretty. She always wore shorts and she had long legs. She stood almost 6 feet tall. I found out later that she use to model for magazines when she was younger. My father was away at the Vietnam War, so it was just she and I. I looked at the clock on my night stand and saw that it was exactly 20 minutes from my last temperature taking, and my Mom had announced that she was going to take my temperature every 20 minutes, which meant that she would soon be coming into my room. Also on the nightstand was jar of Vaseline with a rectal thermometer stuck bulb end into it. Now you have to understand a couple things I had just completed potty training and my Mother was encouraging things to come out of of my bottom, not go in. So this whole rectal temp-taking thing was completely contrary to My Mother's potty training philosophy. Sure enough as the sweep second hand landed on the 12, exactly 20 minutes, the door opened and in came my Mom. She approached me and felt my forehead.

" Still have a fever, Honey," she spoke softly.

She sat down on the edge of my bed. That was my cue to slowly unearth myself from my blanket cocoon and crawl slowly over her lap. She gently pulled me over so that my pajamaed bottom was over her left thigh.

"This will only take a few minutes Honey." She again spoke softly and slid my pajamaed down exposing my naked little bottom.

Mom then reached for the Vaseline jar. The bed began to shake as she shook the thermometer down. But as soon as the shaking ceased I knew that I would be impaled. And sure enough I was. Mom slid the thermometer into my bottom and rested and held it in place between her two fingers, like holding a cigarette and her palm cupped my bottom. Then the humming started, always she would hum. A nervous disorder perhaps. I dismissed it as an adult thing. Of course I wished she would expand her repertoire from Mama's little blackbird and Singing in the rain. I lay there motionless like a melting Popsicle on a stick, the stick being the thermometer. I could feel the Vaseline residue that was squeezed off the thermometer by the insertion into my anus. It was liquefying from body heat and dripping down the crack of my bottom.

"Just another minute," Mom announced soothingly.

Only a minute? You lay here with a big stick up your butt; a minute feels like an eternity. To pass the time I would think about an episode of Captain Kangaroo and how funny it would be if Captain Kangaroo took Mr. Green Jeans temperature this way. I shuddered slightly from the humorous visuals that my mind conjured up. Mr. Green Jeans spread out of Captain Kangaroo's lap getting his temperature taken. Perhaps if they had scenes like that in the show, it would never have been cancelled. Wait! The humming stopped that can only mean one thing.

"Okay hold still now honey," Mom cautioned me as she withdrew the thermometer.

Now here's the part I hate.

"Oh dear. You still have a temperature…."

The next words are the curse of every child whose temperature is taken…the degrees. The parents announce it like an accomplishment.

"102.6…My you do have a fever"

Mom helped me back into bed and covered me up. She set the Vaseline jar back down and felt my forehead again.

" What am I going to do with you?, she said as if she really didn't know, but I could tell she had an idea.

My idea was for her to leave me alone. Let me sleep. Parents can't do that. They have to feel that they have done something to aid your recovery. In my case that something, today was an enema. I still remember the word as it came from my Mother's lips. ENEMA. I thought she said enemy and hearing the letters that Dad would write about the South Vietnamese enemy troops he was encountering was confusing. How would a South Vietnamese person make me feel better? I was puzzled and watched my Mom leave the room. Again I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I could still feel Vaseline inside my butt cheeks. I then heard a noises from outside my room, rustling noises, clanging sounds, water sounds then…

My Mother appeared in my room again.

"Honey I want to give you a cool water enema to bring your fever done."

There's that word again. This time I distinctly heard ENEMA. Enema?

"Come on Honey, I have everything ready in the bathroom." Mom announced and helped me out of bed.

See what I mean. Parents can't just leave you alone.

Wearing my buster brown pajamas and clutching my most cherished possession in the world, a stuffed lizard. I was led to the bathroom by my Mother. I approached the closed door and looked up at it. It's was huge, like a dungeon door. Mom opened it up and we walked into the bathroom. Now I had been in here before during my potty training, but something seemed different, almost out of place. My thumb immediantly found my mouth and sucked on it for all it was wroth. A foreboding air to the room engulfed me at as I surveyed this scary place I saw something that I had never seen before. I filled enema bag bloated with water, hanging on the wall and below the bag was one of our kitchen chairs. I practically sucked the skin off my thumb. What was going to happen to me? I stared at the filled enema bag as in trance, unable to tear my eyes away from it. Its round red shape transfixed me and the long white hose hanging down from it made it look like a stingray. The clank of the door closing snapped my out of my hypnotic stare and I realized at that moment I was trapped inside this room with that red thing. I ran to my Mom scared and crying and wrapped my arms around her legs clutching my lizard.

"It's going to be fine Honey. I'm just going to give you a little enema and that's all. It will be over before you know it." Mom said trying to assure me with false promises, just like any good parent would do.

After uncurling me off her leg she pulled my pajama bottoms off. Okay this was familiar and my cue is to sit on the toilet. Unfortunately my little potty chair wasn't on the toilet, so this wasn't going to be the case. Mom sat down on the kitchen chair and lifted me up and over her lap. More temperature taking I thought. But the thermometer is in my room. I attempted to tell her that figuring it was a mere oversight on her part that she forgot the thermometer. Wrong again.

"Okay Honey. I want you to be brave little boy and let me Mommy give this enema to you, okay honey?"

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I agreed with a head nod.

"That's a good boy."

With those last instructions I felt my bottom cheeks being separated and my Mother's finger being slipped into my bottom. Little bigger then the thermometer but I can take it.

She pulled it out and there was a long lull of activity. What is going on now, was that it. If it was, let me get down and back to bed. Flintstones are on in an hour. But I was wrong again, another rectal intrusion, the enema nozzle which my Mom slowly a firmly slid into my bottom. It felt like she was sliding a freeway overpass into me. It was long and wide. It bottom out. Another lull. I was expecting it to be withdrawn; everything else that went up there was pulled out, except for this thing as I soon found out.

"Okay Honey, this might startle you a bit. But everything will be fine."

Now what? Startle me? What is she talking about? I swear the woman has lost and…

"CLICK"

The cool water raced through the hose into me catching me by surprise. YOWEE! Okay that's enough Mom I thought. Yep plenty of it. Lets stop this thing. Okay? But it didn't stop and I could feel my little bottom filling with water. Also another urge came over me…

"POTTY" I screamed out.

I think I would rather have a South Vietnamese person them this thing called an enema. I began to panic. Mom is not stopping this water and I have to go potty worst then I have ever had to before.

"Just a little bit more." Mom announced.

No more I thought to myself. Its gonna come pouring out of my mouth. I cried and cried while the enema poured into me. Then I felt no more water. Did I win?

"See all gone." She said.

Good, take the freeway out of my butt. But she didn't in fact I could hear…Oh no…humming. The signal of wait. And wait we did. I lay over her lap with the nozzle in my bottom for what seemed like days, which was in reality 3 minutes. Then the damn was breaking and a trickle of water from bottom was the point of no return. Mom quickly placed me on my potty chair that she placed on the toilet. Niagara falls never made as much noise as I did expelling the cold water into the toilet. It splashed back up wetting my bottom. After 10 minutes of sitting on the toilet from alternating cramps and pooping, I was finished. I was so tired and exhausted that I probably would have fallen asleep on the toilet. In fact I don't remember going to bed after the enema and I woke up the next morning in my bed.. Was this a dream? A knock on my door brought me to attention and in walks my Grandmother. She strides over to my bed and hands me a gift.

" This is for being a good boy when you got your first enema." Grandma said as she handed me my gift.

It was not a dream and not the last enema that I got.

rectalman55@hotmail.com

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watersparks 9 years ago  
peppermint 11 years ago