Forced Suppository

@Jo___Life_with_suppository I don't see the message you responded to, but from what you quoted, this smacks of child abuse. I once saw a video discussing “abusive nursing”—relatives, especially mothers, who give intimate medical or hygienic treatments for no valid reason. For instance a lady explained that her grandparents would give her enemas whereas she had no bowel issues.

This, this this this this this! So many people blame money or people being “prudes” or whatnot for the decrease in these sorts of treatments (enemas, suppositories, rectal thermometers--though those were obviously just replaced by more convenient methods they still have a place in this list), when the big one is “many caretakers were using them as an excuse to basically molest their children and have inappropriate levels of control over them without anyone questioning it”.

I see some people here saying “well I'm not traumatized” but you wouldn't be here if it didn't affect you, right?

Also the thing where the idea of forcibly keeping a child's bowels moving on a regular basis was shown to be… really unnecessary unless their bowels are literally paralyzed and incapable of moving on their own? Outside of the occasional bit of constipation. The cure for chronic constipation though should never have been mechanical means or drugs, it means something is wrong that needs to be changed, usually in diet. (Which, again, is why I laugh at the idea money was the reason when a lot of this treatment was replaced with “don't do this at all and eat better”, not “take these pills every day”.)

Enough of my ranting and rambling though, in a fantasy situation it's incredibly hot, and there's obviously something to it if someone who has never had anyone put anything in her ass like me finds it horribly arousing.

@arika I think that true molestation was rare. But the “having inappropriate levels of control over children without anyone questioning it” rings a bell. My mother certainly enjoyed controlling her children's bodies, most likely not in a sexual way, more like in a “I'm boss” way.

Also agreed about constipation!!! Suppositories or enemas should be used sparingly; they are there to fix an acute problem, not a chronic situation (except perhaps in rare medical conditions, on doctor's orders). I've raised two kids, we used glycerin suppositories on them only a few times when they were smaller, they could not go poop and were distressed about it, and we used an enema once when the child did not respond to the suppository.

All the suppositories that my mom inserted into me were forced, because every time she has to insert the suppository I squeeze my asshole. so she tells me to relax, but i don't, so she forces the insertion.

All the time, I was born disabled suffered chronic fecal impaction. suppositories and enemas were a daily thing

Yes a few times as a kid and I hated it. The man (ex-dom) I lived with in college also did a few times. I wasn't as reluctant as when I was a child but I still hated them.

Whenever I got sick as a child (and even sometimes now as an adult), one of the big symptoms I would have (and even my siblings too) as I was recovering would be constipation. All the other symptoms of the illness were gone, but even after I had been eating healthily for several days, I would become extremely constipated. Thus, my parents had to use laxatives on me, and their preferred ones were the Fleet Liquid Glycerin Suppositories. I hated, HATED getting them at first (I don’t really know why? Probably because they were a little uncomfortable going in and I was sensitive to feelings like that), and the same was true of my siblings at various points of their lives. When I was still too young to wipe myself on my own, my parents would resort to trickery to administer them. When I was still on the toilet, having called them in to tell them that I was unable to poop, my mom would say, “Well, let me check to make sure!” and asked me to bend over. Me, being young and gullible, would comply without questioning. With lightning fast reflexes only a mother could have, she would quickly press one hand down on my back to prevent me from getting up, with the other hand popping the suppository into my butt and squeezing the bulb to administer the liquid. I swear, she was like a wizard the way she magically made that suppository appear out of nowhere. However, when I got a little older, my parents had to resort to more forceful measures. I would refuse and resist their attempts to convince me to get a suppository when I needed it, so they took manners into their own hands. When they BOTH walked into the bathroom, my mother holding the orange-tipped suppository in one hand, I knew there was going to be trouble—but I was cornered. They would both grab me and wrestle me to the ground (not difficult considering I was still young, and there were two of them; as my pants were usually already off, this was one less difficulty they had to deal with). My dad would pin my arms and upper body to the ground and hold me face down, butt up, laying flat on the floor. My mom would straddle my legs and deal with the business end of things as I was crying, screaming, and helplessly squirming to try and move. With one hand she would hold my butt cheeks apart, giving her access to my anus, and with the other she would administer the suppository. If that wasn’t bad enough, while I was still held down and helpless, my mother would deliver several hard smacks to my ass for resisting. Then they would let me up and my mother would tell me to sit on the toilet until I pooped, or else they would have to give me another suppository (that only happened a few times). If I really didn’t want to do that, they would put a diaper on me and let me walk around the house (I only took the diaper option once, and fortunately when the urge hit, I got to the toilet before shitting myself). I don’t know when the fantasies started, but sometimes, even as a child, I would imagine being in a store when suddenly everyone in the store would gang up on me to give me a suppository. Sometimes, when my parents would have to give me a suppository, I would kinda intentionally play up my resistance so I could experience the feeling of being helplessly held down and given a suppository against my will. As I got older, I started getting sick a lot less, and eventually I got to the age where I was expected to give myself suppositories when I was constipated. Even then, I still kinda enjoyed the feeling of giving myself a suppository. 😉 Aside from the sensuality of a person having access to all your private bits, I think the feeling of being irresistibly forced to poop, whether you want it or not, especially when another person is responsible for that condition, is super arousing.

I only like forced supp when scening. I never had supp as a child. I got my first supp five years ago. I don’t get them often now due to the virus as I have had no real-time since they announced it.

Whenever I got sick as a child (and even sometimes now as an adult), one of the big symptoms I would have (and even my siblings too) as I was recovering would be constipation. All the other symptoms of the illness were gone, but even after I had been eating healthily for several days, I would become extremely constipated. Thus, my parents had to use laxatives on me, and their preferred ones were the Fleet Liquid Glycerin Suppositories. I hated, HATED getting them at first (I don’t really know why? Probably because they were a little uncomfortable going in and I was sensitive to feelings like that), and the same was true of my siblings at various points of their lives. When I was still too young to wipe myself on my own, my parents would resort to trickery to administer them. When I was still on the toilet, having called them in to tell them that I was unable to poop, my mom would say, “Well, let me check to make sure!” and asked me to bend over. Me, being young and gullible, would comply without questioning. With lightning fast reflexes only a mother could have, she would quickly press one hand down on my back to prevent me from getting up, with the other hand popping the suppository into my butt and squeezing the bulb to administer the liquid. I swear, she was like a wizard the way she magically made that suppository appear out of nowhere. However, when I got a little older, my parents had to resort to more forceful measures. I would refuse and resist their attempts to convince me to get a suppository when I needed it, so they took manners into their own hands. When they BOTH walked into the bathroom, my mother holding the orange-tipped suppository in one hand, I knew there was going to be trouble—but I was cornered. They would both grab me and wrestle me to the ground (not difficult considering I was still young, and there were two of them; as my pants were usually already off, this was one less difficulty they had to deal with). My dad would pin my arms and upper body to the ground and hold me face down, butt up, laying flat on the floor. My mom would straddle my legs and deal with the business end of things as I was crying, screaming, and helplessly squirming to try and move. With one hand she would hold my butt cheeks apart, giving her access to my anus, and with the other she would administer the suppository. If that wasn’t bad enough, while I was still held down and helpless, my mother would deliver several hard smacks to my ass for resisting. Then they would let me up and my mother would tell me to sit on the toilet until I pooped, or else they would have to give me another suppository (that only happened a few times). If I really didn’t want to do that, they would put a diaper on me and let me walk around the house (I only took the diaper option once, and fortunately when the urge hit, I got to the toilet before shitting myself). I don’t know when the fantasies started, but sometimes, even as a child, I would imagine being in a store when suddenly everyone in the store would gang up on me to give me a suppository. Sometimes, when my parents would have to give me a suppository, I would kinda intentionally play up my resistance so I could experience the feeling of being helplessly held down and given a suppository against my will. As I got older, I started getting sick a lot less, and eventually I got to the age where I was expected to give myself suppositories when I was constipated. Even then, I still kinda enjoyed the feeling of giving myself a suppository. 😉 Aside from the sensuality of a person having access to all your private bits, I think the feeling of being irresistibly forced to poop, whether you want it or not, especially when another person is responsible for that condition, is super arousing.

It seems like you had an excellent childhood . I wish I could get Force Suppositories …

As a child, certainly. As an adult, many times it has been ‘forced’ but never nonconsensual.

Closest I can recall was when I was 22, living with two flat mates and only out of uni a few months past. I’d just got over flu and was mostly recovered, but I’d just got back into eating solids and quickly became constipated. For about two days I complained about it, moaning (somewhat sarcastically) that I should probably have a suppository to kick things into gear. By the third morning, I was really uncomfortable and starting to feel ill again. My flatmate suggested I take that suppository, I laughed. To my surprise, our other flatmate appeared in the door holding two in her hand. She offered them out, and I refused. They looked at each other and nodded, and the next thing I knew I was wrestled onto the bed on my tummy, and my pyjama bottoms were yanked down. the girl not holding the medicine slapped my bare cheek lightly and told me to stop clenching. I moaned that this wasn’t funny and she laughed, saying ‘but it IS payback’ (a story for another time). she prised my cheeks apart. Our other flatmate spread something cold on my hole, told me to take a deep breath, and plunged a gloved finger in. I remember my cheeks burning in shame and trying to wriggle away, but the first flatmate held me fast. ‘You’re really full, Brooklynne’ the one with the finger in my bum said, wiggling it around and making me moan. ‘Does she need a doctor?’ The other girl asked, looking worried. ‘No, I think just a good poo.. but it’s like a rock in there. she definitely needs both suppositories.‘. She pulled her finger out, but before I could even catch my breath she’d plunged it back in again, this time with the cold, slippery pill pushing it’s way up inside me. She retreated again, said ‘one more’, and sent the next bullet home. She pulled her finger out and hopped off the bed, turning the glove inside out as she pulled it off. I saw it was pretty soiled, and pressed my face into the pillow in shame as she went off to wash her hands. Our other roommate pulled my pyjamas back up and patted my back in sympathy, admonished me to wait at least thirty minutes for the medicine to do it’s job, and told me to let them know if it worked. She left, and I lay there in embarrassment with a churning gut and burning bum for thirty minutes as ordered, thoroughly humiliated to have been treated and chastised in such a manner.

luckily, it was successful in the end

There is an old expression. “Sometimes you have to do things that just have to be done”.

So ladies when you are constipated Just lower the panties all the way and take your suppositories like a good girl or they will be forced into and deep into your rectum to deal with your constipation problems.

I have not.

My experience of receiving a forced suppository as a child is seared into my memory. Decades later, I can still recall in vivid detail the physical sensations and emotions I had during that traumatic episode.

One afternoon when I was about 7 years old, my mother called me into her bedroom and told me to take off my clothes. I did as she asked, thinking she was going to give me a bath, but I asked why, because I was usually given a bath in the evening. She then told me to put my shirt back on and lie down on the bed. As a young child, you do as your mom tells you, although I felt curious and puzzled, lying on the bed naked from the waist down.

She then told me to turn over because she was going to give me a suppository. It dawned on me that she was going to carry out her earlier threats of clearing my bowels. You see, I was one of those kids with pooping anxiety, and she often caught me standing with legs tightly together trying to withhold pooping. She would warn me to stop doing that or I would get a suppository. But those threats seemed empty before. She might have seen me poop-holding earlier that day, but I don't remember.

Horrified by her intentions, I jumped off the bed, but she grabbed me by the arm and shouted for my dad. My dad came in and they lifted me back onto the bed and tried to hold me down. Something primal made me struggle and physically challenge both my parents. She must have called for more help, because soon one of my aunts was there at the bedside. I tried to claw at my dad as he held my legs, but my aunt deflected my arms. I started crying and pleading in despair as I began to lose the fight against the three adults. They then forced me to lie on my left side with my knees towards my chest and my bare buttocks pointing at the foot of the bed. I was held in that position with my dad pinning my thighs to the mattress; I remember him leaning his upper body weight on my legs, and my aunt gripping my wrists in front of me. She whispered into my ear: "It's for your own good".

I remember lying there feeling defeated, betrayed and ashamed, with my exposed bottom at the mercy of my mom. Through teary eyes, I saw another aunt standing against the far wall of the bedroom, watching silently with a face made of stone. I remember the sounds too, in between the sounds of my own wailing. Piano sounds in the background of my sibling practising music scales. The rumble of an old air conditioner. I could not see what my mom was doing at the foot of the bed, but I heard the sound of a drawer opening, and then the distinctive noise of foil wrapping being opened, which I later discovered was the dulcolax suppositories for children.

I felt my buttocks being parted by mom's fingers and waited for the inevitable. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she was crouching; I could see her forehead above my right hip. I then felt something sharp poking the inner flesh of my buttocks and my body jerked in response, prompting my mom to scold my dad for letting my legs slip. I later learned that she liked to keep one end of the suppository in the metal foil, which scratched my skin as she inserted the open end of the suppository. Next, an odd feeling of pain was the sign that something had penetrated that delicate opening. The pain lessened only after I felt the intruder slide deeper into my body.

When the deed was done, the other adults left me in the room with my mom. I don't remember much after that. There was a burning sensation in my bottom, I felt the urge to poop and released a substantial amount in the toilet under her observation and much to her satisfaction.

I often wondered if my mom knew how hurt and humiliated I felt when they were violating me. And why were my dad and aunt so eager to participate in the violation of a child's body by force? And was the other stone-faced aunt watching because she was deriving some voyeurisitc sexual pleasure from what should have been kept behind closed doors?

I believe that their behavior was partly caused by an obsession of their generation with the bowel habits of their children. But the decision to hold me down by force and penetrate my body had to be driven by subconscious human instincts for sadism or sexual dominance; they probably consciously felt justified by the excuse of improving children's bowel habits. These same basic instincts are fully embraced by BDSM practitioners with much more honesty than these "accidental" child abusers.

The impact on a young child whose brain is still developing can be significant. Stimulation of intimate parts of a child's body, including the erogenous anal region, can permanently alter neurobiology associated with sexual development, and result in fetishes. Natural tendencies for dominant/submissive sexual behavior may also be amplified by the trauma.

Whatever the cause of our fetishes, we can't help but be aroused by them. As for myself, the topic of suppositories sometimes evokes a curious rush for me, as did this recalling of my experience.

This is my first post on these forums btw, and I'm glad to get this off my chest.

It has been mentioned earlier but suppositories were often used with potty training in the 1950s. Moms wanted you to poop in the potty. And they prefered it to be occurring at a set time. So you got a chance while strapped onto the potty chair to produce. If you didn't, over the lap and a sup inserted. Eventually it became a habit.

All anal intrusions were forced on me and my sister from a young age. One memory I remember vividly I was in second grade maybe I just got off the bus I came into my sister naked and screaming and my mom in gloves chasing her with a suppository in her hand she finally got her to rhe couch where the suppos was forced up her hiney

I was very hard to potty train growing up. I remember my mom trying everything to get me to go poop. Laxatives enemas and suppositories. It was always a struggle. I wasn't fully potty trained until I was almost 13 years old. Thinking back I feel all the methods to help me go made things worse for me.

One day I will never forget I was maybe 4 years old at the time. My mom told me to come into the bathroom with her. She removed my pants and underwear and sat me on the bathroom counter. She lifted my legs up and if figured she was cleaning my butt like she had done many times before. She wiped something on my bottom then she tried to stick something in my butt. I cried and screamed bloody murder. I closed off my butthole so she could not get whatever she was trying to get in me. I think she finally pushed the suppository all the way up my butt. I remember crying so hard I could not breathe even. She told me honey mommy just gave you something that will help you go potty. Maybe because it was so traumatic I have no other memory of it and if the suppository helped me go or not. I do remember my butt burning as I ran around the house crying.

No one has ever given me a suppository, in fact the idea intrigues me. I don’t think I would complain even if it was against my wishes

Never had that done, but an interesting comment.

Do not remember if I had any suppositories in my childhood, so therefore never had forced in. Only had them as an adult and since the first insertion it was love at first touch so to speak. Can only imagine how it can feel when someone tries to force something into your anus, not very pleasant, but I can understand kind who try to avoid such unpleasant things….

That is until you start enjoying that..

Yes in pre op the nurses forced me as a child to have an enema. They could do that back then.

All the time as a kid. I would get bad night sweats in the middle of the night, and my mom would hold me down take my temperature then give me a Tylenol suppository … well into the age of 10 ..

My old girlfriend used to give me ivory soap sticks and glycerin suppositories, one of each. That usually came prior to being paddled with the bathbrush

I'd never wanted suppositories as a 4 year old. I remember being told mum was going to give me a suppository and I always protested it, but I always ended up pants down over mums knee while she sat on the toilet unwrapping a suppository. Then suddenly I could feel the tip of the slippery projectile at the entrance to my rectum followed by the feeling of it slipping inside my bottom followed by mums finger pushing it in as far as she could. I remember crying at the time and getting an election. That was how my adult sexual fetish began. Even to this day, I always look at beautiful ladies with nice legs and bottoms and I always wonder if they either got suppositories when they were younger or if they take suppositories now as adults, but I know I'd love to put them over my knee, panties down and give them suppositories and let them give me suppositories and then we'd end up having really hot sex together. It's fun to dream, lol

It was always my biggest nightmare. I hated to be forced, powerless. it burns me. i used to take suppositories on regular basis.

Yes, I got them forced up my butt a number of times, always after losing a battle defending my bumhole against my mom and her sisters.

Suppositories were easier to administer than enemas; even so, my mom and aunts had to outnumber or outsmart me because I was a fierce and determined fighter. Once, they put me belly down on the bed and removed my underpants, so I clenched my legs and buttcheeks tightly together as a last defence (which was successful at first because they could not open them) but like Brazilian jiu-jitsu wrestlers controlling an opponent, they pulled my legs to the side, and folded me in half by bringing my feet to my hands; moments later I howled when a finger went up my butt.

I think my aunts learned their grappling skills practising on my cousins (their children). Another time, it took four of them to restrain me when they held me face down, almost spread eagled, then mom applied lube to my bumhole and pushed the suppository in. When there were only two of them around, they were quite clever to use the deep sofa couch to contain me. After mom pulled my pants down, my aunt would put me down sitting up on the sofa, then lift my legs, rolling me backwards and pushing my knees into my face. I could not slip away because the sofa back and armrest limited my freedom; I kicked and flailed like a beetle on its back, but my bumhole remained wide open; I reached around to shield it, but mom pushed my hands away and forced the suppository in.

Always forced! Usually lying on my back in the hallway outside the bathroom, legs held up while I fussed and squirmed. Once in a while over the knee if I was squirming too much!

When I was 5 or 6 in the hospital the nurses put in a very large capsule. It was so big it was impossible to swallow so it had to go in the back door. Even there it was hard to get in. I started squirming around as my cheeks were pulled apart and felt a finger in my butt. I was hollering the whole time afterwards. I kept telling them I had to poop and after awhile thet let me up to do that with no results other than the capsule. When I got off the toilet the took me into another stall in the restroom. They made me bend over on the table and pushed something else into me and let it stay there. After awhile I felt my belly getting warm and I started getting a belly ache. It got really bad and they took out what was in my butt and told me to sit on the toilet. At this point. I didnt know what thet did to me.The cramps went away so I got up and went neck to my room. A nurse saw me and asked if I pooped. I told her no and she kind of dragged me back to the restroom. She told me to stay there until I pooped. I told her I didn't have to poop and she said something like “you will,” and left me there. It seemed like a long time, but then I started to get a big bellyache again. .y stomach started gurgling and Ll of a sudden I exploded. Seemed like I was pooping for a long time, over and over again (i think that was probabl my first enema). After I stopped. I wiped and went back to my bed. After awhile, the nurses came back in with another pill and I freaked out. They grabbed me and rolled me over on my belly. I knew what they were going to fo and tried to fight it. They held me down pulled my cheeks apart and shoved the pill in deep. Evidently they didn't push the first one in far enough and it made me feel like I had to poop really bad. Don't know what the capsule/pill was.

@GracieGirl Yes, same as me! I remember that I was so afraid of getting punished that I didn’t use to dare to escape the insertion. What about you, have you ever tried to protest or run away from the insertion?

I was maybe 8 or 9 and suffering from continuous vomiting. My mom had given me some awful brown liquid to drink that was supposed to help (have no idea what it was). It didn't help and so she said I now had the choice of drinking more of the liquid or having a suppository the doctor had prescribed. A what? It's like a pill but it goes up your bottom, honey. Well… could anything be worse than the brown poison?

She placed me over her lap, spread my cheeks, and inserted the waxy bullet with her finger going all the way up my behind. I don't think she used any lubricant and it felt like a painful, dry, burn. And then she kept her finger in me. After a very long time, she pulled her finger out and it hurt coming out. I cried. A couple of hours later she said I needed another one. No, please no. I'll drink the brown stuff. But I was given the choice of a spanking with the hair brush or another suppository. I now knew what was coming and it hurt just as much. Back over her knees. I sobbed while her finger was in me for what felt like forever. She kept telling me to hush and be a big girl and that the medicine was good for me.

A slippery soap stick ought never to be forced inserted for this one will slip in the anus itself.

So my husband has finally relaxed on getting a liquid glycerin suppository clean out. Usually when we have sex. I make him strip get on all 4's face down ass up. I make him wait in that position till I prepare the needle-less syringe of 10ml of vegetable glycerin. I lube it with cum scented lube. I slide it in his awaiting hole, then push the plunger to administer the glycerin in his hot ass. I make him wait awhile, I play with his cock to help him take his mind off the urge to expell. Then he expels. When he come back to the room we continue our fun.