Did you easily accept being given enemas as a child?

I read in high school that the starch enema is called an emollient enema and in college, I tried flaxseed and slippery elm bark enemas as well as the potato starch ones. Some were taken solo but most were given me by my girlfriend. We tried them at night and discovered that all or most of the enema was absorbed by the time we got up for class the next morning. On weekends, she would sometimes give me senna tea or some other laxative and prepare an emollient enema while I was on the toilet. I would object but still get the enema which she made me retain until it was absorbed.

I began getting one quart Ivory soapsuds enemas from my grandmother at around age 4. None of the typical going from bulb to bag over a period of time. Nope! Just a weekly program of very warm, very soapy fillings of my bowels via a 12" long red rubber rectal tube inserted up my bare bottom while kneeling in the bathtub with the fountain syringe hanging high above me from an old nylon stocking. I received constant coaching from my grandmother along with much praise as she insisted that I “open up inside” and will myself to take much larger and more difficult to hold enemas as I grew older. So by the age of about seven or eight, I was accustomed to accepting and retaining a full 2 quart bag of soapy solution (and often more if she decided to add some extra water to insure that I was filled completely to the brim, aching for relief and “panting like a puppy”. So I learned how to take very embarrassing types of enemas for her without complaint. The honest truth was that I really, really liked the process of being toilet trained and having my colon thoroughly cleansed. I especially liked the humiliation of being totally naked, expelling on the toilet as she watched over me, always submissive and obedient to her various demands in the bathroom. Pleasing her was important to me.

Was never given a choice. When it was time it was briefs pulled down and over dad's lap until that bag was empty! Was this way until I left for college.

I used to fuss a little sometimes, but not to much because I was afraid I might not get an enema as I absolutly loved them!,they were my ticket to orgasm!

My mom took me to a home where an older nurse did enemas. At first when I was about 8, I cried and struggled my mom held me down when this nurse pushed a lubed finger deep into me. She said this was going to occur but had no idea as i was laying on my back nude when she approached me with her glove on and a bunch of lube that she said she was going to work into me. After several visits over the next couple years, I got use it it, if one can ever get use to a large finger in a little butt as an 8 year old. I then went here twice a year for Many years

@eyeman Was there a reason for these enemas?

Nope, I fought who ever wanted to violate my tushie with the “evil hose”.

I loved the first enema that my mom ever gave me and all the ones that followed.This is the reason that I love a hose job today. I can't get enough enemas to get satisfied.

I yelled and screamed a lot. Got a slap on my butt… still hollered and still got a tube up my butt. Whimpered and pleaded for it to stop the whole time.

Yes, but not for the usual reason.

I got several bulb enemas and didn't really object because, in truth, I didn't realize what was happening. I don't think I connected getting something up my behind and having to poo soon thereafter. It was probably because I only got one bulb full, and the bulb was not big… 4 Oz maybe.

All ambiguity was removed when I got my fist bag enema. As I've written, I was badly constipated, perhaps a week without a poo. A bulb earlier in the day had produced no results. I was positioned on my tummy, held down by there adults, while a visiting nurse gave me a Rexall Roxbury bag of warm, soapy water. I didn't struggle partly because it was futile to do so, and partly because I don't remember feeling anything… until the enema stated to work. Then I yelled to be let up to go poo, and only just made it onto the toilet before the flood stated.

As I posted a few years ago there were times I protested but to no avail. Once my mom or aunt decided that they were going to give me an enema(s) there was no turning back.

Janet S

Moms did the laundry and if kids underwear were “too clean” it meant you’re not moving you bowls. (Sounds gross I know).

At the kitchen table while having dinner, she’d tell you “you’re getting an enema tonight” !!! No one spoke after that. After dinner you could hear her open the bathroom closet door when she would reach in for a fleet. Your name would be called followed by “Get up here !!!”

As she sat on the edge of the tube pulling your pants off and up on her lap she demanded. I did not open my cheeks as I could feel her trying to put a finger in my butt but I clinched to tight. One smack was enough and 4 fleets I was maybe 7 or 8.

I never accepted my enemas without a fuss. But I never failed to get an enema anyway. Protests were useless and although I knew it, I tried anyway. I was told to take all of my clothes off and get on all fours with my butt up in the air. I knew I had to. I always received bag enemas.

It took me a couple times to realize, the more I tried to stop it, the less it helped. After a while, my dad would just bring his belt into the bathroom, and I would submit for my enema pretty quickly. Let's just say they were about three or four spanking sessions, before I learned my lesson.

No. How it went depended on my Father's mood. It was after I'd been in the hospital for the BE and tests. The doctor wanted me to get enemas about every couple of weeks. I absolutely hated it.

To my Father giving and taking enemas wasn't a big deal. It was definitely not a reason to be embarrassed especially since he didn't mind doing it. There was no reason to be embarrassed around another guy. The problem is I was a super shy guy. That was hard to handle. A couple of times stand out in my memory.

Daddy came in from work in a good mood. He cleaned up and changed clothes. I was watching TV with my best friend. Daddy came in and simply said, “Your Mother wants me to give a couple of enemas before supper. Let's go.” I wanted to die. He was all business about it. I knew he would gladly bust my butt with the paddle if I didn't do what I was told or took too long to get ready. I was already embarrassed by my friend knowing about the enemas. I didn't want him to hear or probably see me get paddled too.

The other time I remember best he came in my room with one of the big disposable bags like they used in the hospital. He put down the towels on the bed. I tried to talk him out of it. I really was embarrassed and also didn't want to spend a Saturday afternoon staying close to the bathroom. Finally he had enough, “Just take down your pants and lean across the bed. We'll be done before you know it.” That was his way of being nice about it. Actually it was easier if he ignored my shyness. I got a bad paddling after that for arguing with him.

This happened after he had a stroke and recovered. It changed his personality a lot. It frustrated him that I was a nervous and shy kid. It didn't take much for him to find a reason to paddle my butt.

I'm really uncomfortable writing about the enemas and the way he treated me at home. Sorry, thought I should say that here.

Yes, in my childhood enemas were among the home remedies that were used for all kinds of ailments. Some have also been used to support and reinforce educational measures, also called punishment enemas.

My mother was very assertive and restrictive when it came to enemas. Arguing, discussing, negotiating and screaming were futile labors of love...

I was always on the wrong end of the bulbs or nozzles...

the enemas found their way, namely into my colon.

For the most part, he accepted them with humility. Sometimes I started to sob and cry a little, having already approached the treatment table and knowing what they would do to me now. Once I squeezed my buttocks so tightly that the nurse could not insert the tip into me and then she slapped me on the bottom twice, not at all hard. And once in the hospital, I tried to hide in the toilet. As a result, girls, much older, found me there and forcibly took me to the enema room.

Never protest.

at 7 years old when my aunt gave me my first RUBBER BULB and I felt the liquid enter

my small penis got hard.

My cousin Victory. she looked and laughed waiting her turn

"I became a Klismo at the age of 7"❤️

We already liked suppositories and we played to put our finger with oil in the hole pretending that it was a suppository

A few years later we asked my Tia to give us Enemas.

I always wanted more.

My aunt called me "CULITO TRAGON"😃❤️❤️

No , not at all. I fought my Mom at just the mention of her giving me a enema, well that was till about 12 . Then something changed . I never asked for a enema, but after about 12 I hinted, that maybe I needed one . I invented sickness to get one . Mom would always take the bait and was willing to give me one.