How, and what did you feel?

You were a child, of perhaps 6 to 12 years of age. Old enough to have some reasoning abilities. Your Mom, or sometimes Dad, noticed you "don't look very well."I think I should check your temperature." It's okay for this topic if this wasn't done rectally.

So that tempy check is done, in whatever way. "Well I am sorry, but you do have some fever. I think it would be wise to give you a good, warm enema, and then put you into bed." WHAT would feel, or say? Would you feel scared? Or be scared to say "no?" Would you feel warmth, and love of the attention? What other things might have crossed your mind? Thank you, IN ADVANCE, FOR ANYTHING YOU CAN SHARE WITH ME. walt

As a child roughly between the ages 3 1/2 to 7, I would receive a warm Ivory soap enema from my Mom whenever I had been in bed for more than a couple days with the flu, or whatever illness had beset me. It was usually in the early evening, and I would hear my folks discussing whether they thought I should get an enema. If I heard them disussing it, I was pretty sure that I was going to get an enema. Since my mother was always very gentle with the process, I never minded getting an enema. She would have me come into the bathroom, remove my pajama bottoms or underwear, and lie down on a towel on the floor, usually on my stomach, as I remember. The red enema bag and small black rectal nozzle is what she always used, and would hang it from the door knob. She would lube my anus with vaseline and smear some on the nozzle as well. From there, I would usually receive 3 or 4 enemas of probably about 2 to 3 cups of warm soapy water each time, or until I was pretty cleaned out. I guess because I never dreaded enemas as a child, I wasn't afraid to try them for erotic purposes in my early adolesence. Been doing enemas and enjoying them ever since.

Hey Walt;When I was a patient in the childrens hospital,the kids would have their temps taking every evening about 6:30 pm .Enemas were never giving if our temps were high from a fever.The kids got enemas only for surgery prep,failing to have a bm for three days or if the RN decided to use a certain kid to train the new nurse recruits.The latter reason was the most fun.I loved the attention when they wheeled me into a large room to be given several enemas by the new nurses to be.They would giggle and smile alot as the RN explaned in detail how to adminester an enema to my exposed bum.

I would get a warm feeling that would rush though me and of coures the please mommie I don't want and enema.

she just told me it was to make me feel better and we would get ready and I would just listen to mom and the click and tickle not really knowing I loved them

Unfortunately I felt shame and humiliation. I was given an Enema around seven to eight years of age. The red bag would hang from the open bathroom door and I was in the company of my curious younger siters standing there as my ma and pa were administering the solution. I felt this strange rush of warmness enter by belly and did not know what to expect next. I felt violated not being in control any longer of my bowels.... This display for all to see would happen several time in my growing years. As I grew older I would look for the bag and take control of my bowels.... Later in my teens the bag was gone and I had to devise other ways of feeling the intense inner pleasure of the water filling me up and hitting my prostate. My legs would shake uncontollably as I would alternate between very warm and very cold water. I would use the kitchen sink nozzel and a five gallon bucket to expel into when I knew no one would be home. I was into enemas long before I ever knew what masturbation was. I always felt so good after an enema. Back then there was no middle age belly fat that would mask the shape of my colon as it distended my belly. I loved the site and the inner warmth and feeling of lightness the enema would give to me.

Bert,

I cannot begin to imagine how I could have grown to enjoy An erotic enema, given the apparently "required" attendance of your siblings, and your Dad. I've no concept of why that was important. Even today at my age, such a past recalled scenario would give me very COLD feelings. Walt

I would say I was a little scared.

I actually DO remember my first one better than I ever let on before.

I was raised by my father. Don't even know if my mother is alive.

She left me with my father for what was supposed to be a routine weekend "shared custody" visit, when I was 3 and never returned. When he tried to take me back to her apartment, it was empty.

Since there was a state line between the apartments, and my mother was a legal resident, but not a citizen, the legal issues of having her parental rights terminated and getting sole custody got waaaaay more complicated than they ever should have. His falling out with his own mother didn't make things any easier.

As things were coming to a head in the legal system, it was a stressful time for both of us, and I got constipated.

He considered a "children's" Laxative like Fletchers or something, and just decided that it was too slow, and too rough, it would be better to just give me an enema and get it over with. I was only 4 so he knew it was not going to be that easy.

He also was determined not to make it any harder for either of us than it really had to be.

He had "borrowed" this old 4-oz red bulb with a black child-size nozzle from his mom when he was 7 and never given it back.

H just sat me down, and got me calm, let me have my favorite stuffed animal, and he explained, "You haven't gone poo in two days, that's not good, but you just tried it, and nothing came out. I think you are at a point where it needs a little help." He put the empty enema bulb on the table between us, and said, "The way we help it along is called an enema. That is the thing that is used to give an enema to children your age. It's OK to touch it. I'll clean it again before we use it, so don't worry. He handed it to me. I looked at it and squeezed it. No water in it yet.

He said, "Do you know how it works?" I just shook my head "no" He said, I will mix up some solution that will help you poo. It will be mostly water, with some soapsuds. Same thing you take a bath or wash your hands with, and a small amount of a drug called 'Epsom Salt.' I will then have to find a place, not too far from the toilet, where we can do this. I think we should use your bed, because that's the best place for you to relax. You have to take off your shoes and panties, and lie down in a position that is not real comfortable. I'll help you with that! Then, I have to squeeze this red part up real good, put the black part into the solution that I mixed up, and then let it pull the solution up into the bulb. I will have to stick the black part into your bottom. The whole reason for that black part being there, and being that long is so that it reaches far enough up inside your bottom that you can't keep it out. It goes above the muscles you can control. For that reason, it is very important that you not resist, or try to push back. just relax, and let it happen. If you try to fight it, or keep it out you are only making it harder for both of us!"

I asked him, "Is it going to hurt?"

He said, "I'll work hard to be as gentle as I can, and if you relax, and just let it happen, it should not hurt too much. I can never be sure that it won't hurt at all, sometimes it does, sometimes not. but you are the one who controls whether it hurts a lot or a little. If you don't fight it, it won't hurt much. I'll be as gentle as I can, and hopefully it won't hurt. All I can say is, if it hurts a lot, one or the other of us made a boo-boo. If we both do everything just right, it either won't hurt at all, or will hurt only a little and only for a moment."

I said, "Have you ever gotten this done to you?" I said, "Grown ups take enemas in a different way. we often have to put them into ourselves. You know that big Hot-water-bottle I use when my knee gets really bad?" I said, "yeah." He said, "Well that comes with a set of hoses and clamps and some nozzles that are bigger and made for grown-ups. I have to fill that whole thing with fluid, and hang it from the ceiling. I usually do that when you're with Grandma."

He then got out his 3-qt hot water bottle, filled it with water and held it up to his tummy. He then held the bulb up to my tummy, and said, "See what grown-ups go through? Grown-up enemas always hurt!" I said, "Did Mommy ever do that?" He said, "More often than I do! She did it too often! Don't know if it was safe to do them as often as she did!" I just said, "OH!" He said, "Anything else you want to ask?" I said, "Will I ever have to take a grown-up enema?" He said, "You can never be sure, some day you probably will but not for a long time!" I said, "How long?" He said, Not until sometime after you start needing a bra, so don't worry about it now. It'll be OK when the time comes!"

"When I stick the bulb in you, it will feel a little weird, but should not hurt at all. When I do that, I want you to just relax, I will wait a moment, and I have found it helps if you take a deep breath. Then breathe in, hold it for a few seconds, and breathe out. I will start squeezing as you breathe out, and I'll take it slow. That's when you need to talk to me. You'll get a little fullness, and possibly a feeling like you have to poo. If that does not happen right away, it'll happen fairly quick. I have to get as much into you as I can, hold the bulb like it is, and pull it out. I'll put it back in the fluid, and do the same thing again. I'll keep doing it until you tell me you can't hold any more. Then I'll stop. Then will com the hardest part for you. You will feel like you have to poo, then not, but you will have some fullness, and then feel like you have to poo really bad again. This feeling will keep coming up and going down. You will get to a point, after a few minutes where you feel like you have to poo all the time, sometimes, stronger, sometimes not so strong. When it feels like you can't hold it any more, get off the bed, run to the toilet, and get on the toilet as quick as you can. You will get a large watery poo just as you sit down, and several more over the next 20 minutes or so. Talk to me, and let me know how you are feeling, and I'll have to know how much is coming out. When you're all done, I'll have to figure out if we will have to do it again."

I said, "How many times will I have to do that?" He said, "Don't know, just until all the poop comes out, probably two or three, but you never know. Any other questions?"

I said, "No!" and he said, "OK, then, come into the bedroom and take off your shoes and panties, and we'll get started."

My experience might have differed from most members', because I never got enemas from a parent or family member; all mine were received while hospitalized.

Due to hospital rules, my first enemas were disposables, given by young male nurses who clearly weren't comfortable with the process. But a couple of days later, two nurses well into middle age appeared at my bedside with the traditional "irrigating can".

Although they didn't allow me to insert the nozzle on my own, or control the flow, they did explain the process and that this time, the water would be warm and soapy rather than a small injection of chemicals. I felt only a very gentle pressure, it wasn't until one of them gently massaged my abdomen and observed that it was time to stop because "He's getting pretty full." that I realized that I was still taking on water.

From that time on, I viewed enemas as a sensual pleasure rather Thai something to fear, and when I began to develop sexually, an enema just seemed a natural addition to bathing. or ther forms of grooming.

LisaK:

How sweet a memory; your dad was very special...

Walt:

In my case, the scenario you mentioned did happen to me at both ends of the age range you specified (and also many times in the middle). The opening gambit was almost always Mum feeling my forehead with the inside of her wrist (similar to how baby bottle milk was checked for temperature), and if I 'felt warm' to her touch, proceedings commenced. By the time I was 6, I was already quite familiar with enemas. When I was 6, such an announcement would anger me, because it would cut into My time, and I would try to convince Mum that I really didn't NEED an enema, but being careful not to go too far, as too much argument could trigger a spanking, and I would get the enema anyway... I was always embarrassed about having to bare my bottom for access by the 'anal invader', but consoled by the fact that it was Mum, after all. As I grew older, I just accepted it; sort of like being told that you had to go get a haircut; or go to the dentist; accepting the 'Ruler's Decree' (she Did run the house, more particularly my upbringing). By the time I was 12, I accepted such a pronouncement calmly; as once 'things were done', and I had a nice warm bath, I would end up in bed, and be able to continue reading whatever I was 'in the middle of' at that time. I enjoyed reading, and would usually be in the middle of a book at almost any time. (Also, of course, by that time, I had started to enjoy the enema experience, something which I firmly kept to myself.) (At that time, a TV in a kid's bedroom was extremely rare, few families had more than one TV for the whole house, and a number of houses didn't even have one.) All my screaming and yelling (about receiving enemas) had happened during that period from when I was 4 AND A HALF, and 6. I was frustrated by the lack of control I had over my own destiny, and angered by the intrusion into my life, the taking of time which I had other plans for. I was upset enough to get physical, whining, yelling and screaming. And I received enough spankings during that period to come to the realization that 'resistance was futile'. I had also found that if I objected less, things got done a lot faster, and that it really wasn't all that bad. (I guess that Mum was a good 'enema giver', but I didn't realize it at the time.) I guess my principal feeling at such a pronouncement was frustration at surrendering of control over my destiny for that period, just another something to be endured because I was kid, and it was the 'will of the Empress'.

Happy Waterings,

Cos