I only got one enema for punishment as my Mother gave me a true attitude adjustment one afternoon, but I asked for it. There was no doubt about that. So, what exactly had I done to deserve such treatment? Well, we had a retarded gentleman that lived across the street from our house. He was probably 25 years my senior, but basically a good guy. I would often go over to his house and visit with him since he didn't have any friends. He sold newspapers in town for income. His Mother was a nurse that worked at one of the local hospitals so she was seldom at home. One afternoon, while visiting him, I scratched on his tile floor - "Mom, would you please give me a big, soapy, hot enema?" Well, a couple of days passed before his Mother found the note. And, boy, was she mad, when she did. She called our house, and I just happened to be the one who answered the phone. She sounded mad when she asked for my Mom. I really did not want to call her to the phone, but I did. A few seconds later, Mom came to my room saying she had to go next door, that our neighbor wanted to show me something. (I knew that I was in for it now!) Well, Mom wasn't gone long. When she returned to our house, I heard the front door slam. A couple of seconds later, she burst in my room, yanked me off my bed, and tore into me. "So, you want your Mama to give you a big, hot, soapy enema? How could you ruin his floor with that statement? I am so embarrassed!" I didn't know what to say. Really, there wasn't anything that I could say. Mom jerked me out of the room and literally drug me into her bathroom. When we got there, Mom yanked open her white, towel, cabinet with her free hand. Then, she shook me with her other hand and yelled once again...."So, you want me to give you a big, hot, soapy enema, right?" Once again, I could not say anything. She then reached into the white cabinet and pulled out her Rexall Victoria Combination syringe, bottle and tubing, and nearly hit me in the face with the bottle, but the black bakelite nozzle that was attached to the red tubing got me right above the right eye. She then led me back to the commode and sat my little fanny on the toilet seat, saying "don't you dare leave, you hear me!" With that said, Mom slammed the bottle and hose into the sink and left the room. A minute or so later she returned with two pitchers of hot, soapy, salty water. She sat one of the pitchers on the edge of the tub, then she grabbed the red hot water bottle and filled it with the second. Once it was full, she quickly attached the red tubing and hung the hot water bottle on the free curtain rod bracket that was on the window sill. I, then, heard a bloop, bloop, bloop sound coming from the hose as water replaced air. Within seconds, Mom yanked me off the toilet seat and yelled "get out of those clothes! You are going to get the big, hot soapy enema you asked for on Tommy's floor!" Once, I was naked, Mom pushed me down onto the floor and grabbed a hold of my left bootie cheek. Within seconds, she had rammed the black nozzle into my waiting rectum without any lubricant which caused a sharp pain in that region of my body. Next, I heard the click of the silver shut-off clamp, and wa-la the enema that I had asked for was now entering my body. I can honestly say this - Mom was not very kind. I looked up and saw her squeezing the red bottle helping send that hot, soapy water into my body. When that bottle had totally released its contents, Mom reached up and yanked it from its location. She quickly refilled it with the second pitcher and had it re-hung on its bracket within a minute. Soon I was feeling quiet full, but my enema kept coming. Finally, the enema was all in, but Mom would not let me get up to sit on the toilet. She stood there above me saying. "I'll tell you when you can get up, and you had better not leak any of that liquid on the floor, you hear me?" Finally, she did let me up and boy was I glad. I was just about ready to pop. I can say one thing for sure and that is - Mom surely taught me an important lesson that day....and that was - Be careful with what you ask for...you just might get it! By the way, Mom made me use the money I earned from my paper route and lawn mowing jobs to pay for a new floor in Tommy's bedroom. I think I learned my lesson.