Did you easily accept being given enemas as a child?

FunnStrict:

I am not questing anyones integrity Sir...............I simplify made a statement.............it would appear to me based on my up bring and raising 2 Sons myself, there would be some level of concerns for injury from the nozzle at younger ages if 1 or both parents knew..........Sir..........but that’s is my thought pattern.............I concede it is probably incorrect in homes other than mine and it is/was view as kids exploring their body. But I’m a Boomer, and most of us Boomers were on a Post War short leash by Moms that didn’t have to work in that era, with the Polo thing. I guess it comes down to different home disciplines from home to home. No hard feelings Sir, have a Great New Years.

{ many times on forums I am a member, as here or retired military forums I read post/comments, and think to my self, “Thats not true” if you follow my drift, I never call anyone out on it unless I was physical present, a planner, investigator or a after action reviewer, its just like a plane crash, 10 eye witness all see something deferent based on their recall memory of movies and TV, nearly all agree 1 or more engines were on fire, even if the crash was caused by fuel starvation or hit by lighting even in clear sky HaHaHa PERCEPTION }

Bagfull141: i did not take any offense to your original comment. It just got me thinking that I might not have been as smart as I thought I was :-))

I've posted in other related threads, and on other sites, concerning my early enema experiences. I put up some pretty good resistance early on. The end result was often a spanking and may have included deprivation of certain privileges or treats. There was always some vociferous scolding and threats that publicized the pending treatment. My resistance was never sufficient to avoid the inevitable.

I've confirmed that enemas and suppositories were an aspect of my toilet training. I was a big kid with an insatiable appetite. I'm told that I could fix my own bottle by the time I was 9 months old. My older sister was a frequent recipient herself. As time progressed, I recall she was also a frequent observer, and sometimes instigator, of my treatments. If she got an enema, I was likely to get one myself. It didn't often seem to work the other way around.

I finally began to capitulate when it was enema time. My sister got treats and prizes for being a "good" girl. I seldom did, but the result was far less traumatic. I have confirmed the age of my first self-administration, due to an earthquake event that was historical and covered in the media. It was an enema event that I will never forget. I was 6 at the time.

While my first attempt was less than satisfactory, it was quite a learning experience. After several other administrations, I was hooked. It wasn't long before I had figured out fluid dynamics and how to avoid catastrophic results. I was sneaky but almost got caught on several occasions. In hindsight, I'm not absolutely sure that my enema use hadn't been discovered, but ignored for various reasons. After all, if I gave them to myself, mom didn't need to continue harping about BM's and fight with me at enema time.

We never discussed the birds and bees. I discovered the facts of life in my reading and with an enema nozzle doing what it does best. The topic of sexuality was never brought up. As I was hospitalized for surgery as a teen, enema and shave preps were still very common. Because of my status as a minor, mom and the rest of the family were privy to all aspects of my care. When queried, I acknowledged my receipt of the enemas and shave of my groin. I was asked if I "was a good boy" and cooperated with my treatments. The gleam in my eye, and bright red face, may have been a dead giveaway that I actually quite enjoyed it!

I never liked enemas before age 11. I cried and hid and fought each enema. Dad held me and mom gave the enema. Then I got several that weren't as bad. Mom then could give the enema without dad. This was with a very intimidating full enema bag.

Soon I was sneaking bathroom time to give myself enemas.

Well, not the first few times.......... : )

Vapor

Totally opposite of today.....As a child I fought, screamed and kicked when mom would put me over her lap to give me an enema. I HATED it! Puberty not only changed my body, but also my attitude toward enemas. I haven't screamed and kicked in years! LOL

Well as for me when I first was taken into our bathroom on a Saturday morning as usual . To have my wet

diapers taken off from that night . I saw a bowl of warm soapy water , Vaseline and a RED bulb syringe .

This was at age 7 . I didn't know what it was for . An my mom didn't tell me . After she took my wet diaper

off she just put me naked over her lap an lubed my butt hole with her finger . Then she started to pump

one bulb after the other in my butt . Well I started to KICK , cry and scream . But it didn't stop her till she was

sure I had all the water in me . This went on for every weekend . After a little I got use to the enemas . An

started to like them .

I thought I was the only one on earth (Or at least on here) who was never given an enema as a child 😜 .I really love the idea of some sort of "Enema day" like some ppl here have spoken of and on a set day of the week everyone gets one like it or not 😳

Yes i did. I was always submissive to my parents and liked the attention my li'l butt would recieve.

I was submissive because I could not see any way to avoid what was going to happen to me, but I did not like it at all.

hankb

The earliest enema I can recall was at age 4 or 5. I did not cry, resist in any way. I was a bit confused about it all, but found the sensations pleasurable. I got them through age 10 and no time resisted. The experiences were always positive and left me with a favorable attitude towards enemas, rectal temps, suppositories, etc.

When it was enema time you got it like it or not

You know CBoB22 you said you always put up a fuss when it came to getting your enemas as a kid . I also cried an fussed getting me enemas over my moms lap . But it didn't do any good . But like most after a while of getting enemas every week . I just learned it wasn't all that bad an just took the enema . I also found out when I stopped fusing . My mom was a lot more gentle with me in giving me the enemas . An Like your mom . She would just let me lay their a little over her lap . Naked an all rubbing my back an butt . Telling me if I was good an took all the enema she would give me a treat . Then she would take her time squirting BULB full after BULB full in me till I thought I'd EXPLOED ! So I think your mom . Took her time with your enema . An just liked seeing your cute naked butt . As well as letting you calm down some before your enema . So that you could take more of the water .

Did not easily accept until my dad would threaten to paddle me with a wooden stick. Paddling did not hurt but was very embarrassing!

After the first few I began to find them stimulating. My aunt Wanda gave my cousins and I enemas every Friday evening as a cleansing for the weekend, as cleanliness is next to Godliness!

I was raised to be a good boy. My mother, who was loving and dedicated used the paddle to reinforce that. When it came to enema time, I knew what was expected. I'd strip, go into the bathroom, and assume the position over her towel draped lap. When I felt full, she helped me by saying, "take short quick breathes, pant like a doggy."

I pretended to resist dads enemas so he wouldnt know i liked them

I never minded receiving enemas as a child, so there was never an issue of having to resist them. As I've written elsewhere, enemas for me were always the family cure-all for whatever ailed us at the time, but they were always given gently with a warm ivory SS solution,mwhile laying on a soft towl on the bathroom floor. I was too young to recognize the erotic aspects of enemas at the time, but in a way, they felt kind of good as I remember them.

I would get bulb enemas over mom's lap, and yes I would fuss and squirm until she would give me a sound spanking and then I still got the enema.

I hated enemas as a child. Whenever my mom would announce that she was going to use the syringe on me I would fuss and protest, all in vain. Once she decided that I needed an enema her mind was made up and no amount of pleading was going to stop her from using the syringe on me. I would soon find myself face down on the bathroom floor as she mixed up a bowl of hot Ivory soapsuds and began to syringe me with the dreaded bulb syringe.

No matter how much I cried and begged her to stop she was determined to make my bowels move. She never quit until the bowl was empty and I was full, all the while telling me she was sorry she had to use the syringe on me but that it was for my own good. After expelling the enema it was back down on the floor for another thorough syringing with plain water to rinse out the soapsuds. As she cleaned everything up and put away the syringe she would warn me that I needed to keep myself regular because if I got plugged up she would have to use the syringe on me again. As much as I hated the enemas and despite her warnings I found myself on the business end of that syringe many more times.

I hated them with a passion. From age 3-7. I cried and kicked but resistance was futile.

Then teen years came along. I gave them to myself.

As an adult I learned the benefits and now weekly colonics plus twice weekly 3-4 qt. enemas.

I posted in should teens be given enemas. Yes, and particularly boys. They would learn the benefits and there would be far less colon rectal cancer in men.

Ron

I always loved enemas, painful as the injection and expulsion were. With suppositories, I put up so much fuss from a false feeling of imminent defecation that my babysitter tried only once and my mother twice. I was even that way with rectal temperatures, sometimes.

I think I was pretty easy on my mom. I do not remember ever having to be dragged off to the bathroom, or paddled to lay still for the enema like some here have described. I did not directly ask for an enema that I remember, but if I told mom I had a stomach ache, and had not recently pooped, an enema would be suggested. Of course I would have to tell her I did not want one. But I had to be careful to not protest too much so as to talk her out of it because I learned early on that I really did feel better after a few shots from that red rubber bulb. The older I got the more I enjoyed it but I didn't know why. It didn't take long before I was using that bulb on myself when I could.

From the beginning I had gut problems that were really not totally identified until an adult and in the Marine Corps. It was found to be a birth defect related to Hirschprung's Disease. I couldn't poop.

The "bottom" line was all of the home remedies, laxatives, suppos', ground-up senna leaves w/apricots and other stuff, and or course enemas.

Needless to say I received frequent enemas. They always left me feeling good. I enjoyed the closeness with my mother. The enemas didn't hurt it was all good. It wasn't until puberty that I found out my appreciation for anal stimulation......and then it was a real OMG!

There you have it, Folk. I've been hooked ever since.

the boxcar

I didn't protest at all when I was below 10. I just took them. Enemas were a thing that I grew up with. I never knew any other way. I had an intestinal issue when I was born and enemas were ordered by my doctor and Mother followed those orders. That was until I was about 10. Our doctor became ill and had to give up his practice. Our new doctor did not believe in enemas at all and instructed my mother to stop giving me enemas at once.

He prescribed oral laxatives like Milk of Magnesia or Castoria for me. As I have told you in other posts, I absolutely hated the taste of both of those oral laxatives. I literally begged Mother to start giving me enemas again. She didn't listen to my begging. She kept right on following the new doctor's orders. I even enlisted her Mother's help, but that was no good either. Weeks of begging turned into months. Finally one Saturday morning Mother woke me up early by rubbing me on the back of my neck and back. I smiled up at her. She took my left hand and pulled me out of my bed and led me into my bathroom.

Once in there, I looked over at the commode and hanging above it was Mom's Rexall Victoria Combination syringe filled to the brim. For some reason I became embarrassed and slipped out of the bathroom and hid behind my closet door. Mother called out to me saying "Mike, if you want me to give you this here enema, then you had better come in here now or I am going to take it down and if I do, I do not want to hear another word about wanting an enema." I hem hawed around a bit and realized she wasn't joking and since I really did want that enema, I came out of my hiding and went back into my bathroom and got my enema.

After that particular enema, Mother refused to give me another enema saying that she did not want our new doctor mad at her. No amount of my begging altered her thinking. She even hid her syringe from me. One day while she was out shopping, I searched and eventually found it in her chest of drawers. I made note of that and the next time she was out I got it out, took it into her bathroom, filled the bottle with water and was in the process of blowing water into the bottle through the tubing when Mother suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorway. She didn't say a word. She shook her head, turned and walked away. I just sat there not knowing what to do.

Finally, after 15 or so minutes Mother reappeared in the bathroom. This time she came in, sat down next to me on the edge of her tub, took my free hand into hers and started rubbing it. She turned my face towards her but didn't say a word. Tears began to well up into my eyes. Mom wiped the tears out with a tiny piece of toilet tissue. She then pulled my head over into her chest and wrapped her arms around me saying "Mike, our doctor does not like you taking enemas. You've heard him say that several times now. I know you like them, but.... I just don't know what to think anymore." I looked up at her and said "Mom, you've been giving me enemas for as long as I can remember and they have never hurt me, have they?"

Mom just sat there with my head in her arms rubbing my back. Finally, she pushed me back onto the toilet and stood up. She reached for the bloated enema bag. I gave it to her. She smiled down at me and then reached up and hung the enema bag up on the nail she had placed above her toilet for that purpose. I couldn't believe my eyes. I figured she was going to walk out of the room and let me take my enema. But, I was wrong, Mother picked up the end of the hose by nozzle and said "Mike, come on let me give you your enema." I then did exactly what she said, I let her again give me my enema with that bloated enema bag.

Not at first. They were scary and i felt abused. Our spankings always started with a good talking too and often much more talking to after. Once dad ordered mom give us an enema after our spanking because we had been rude and inconsiderate to mom till she was in tears. Mom knew we needed a spanking, but felt bad we were about to suffer for her. They had a secret meeting and we could hear them fixing it together.

We had only cold water from our overhead tank into the one faucet at the kitchen sink. So they warmed it a little with the tea kettle on the stove. When mom finally emerged into our presents, she was carrying a Daddy sized bulging red bag for us. Our eyes popped out and we stared at what they had prepared for us. One of us started begging and then the other joined in with whining. She took us together and made it a social event, with lots of talk, lots of talk. We knew we were about to regret such insolence toward her.

She took the oldest first and said to show courage, which made me stop whining and swallow hard. She talked softly as she greased my tightly puckered entrance for her special treatment. Being a milker, her finger nails were always very short and her hands stronger than most men. Holding me close and looking deep into my eyes as she explained the need to be more caring of others, She gently slipped a determined finger into me and left it there while I considered my ways. Then as she eased it back out, I whimpered a different sort of whine for her. She took brother next, petting him ever so softly to comfort his tears of remorse.

But as she went for his hiney hole with her greased finger, he broke down crying loudly. Soon I saw his eyes pop open and tears disappear. He looked up into her waiting eyes to see the love she had in her heart for him. She encouraged him to relax as she drew him into her bosoms. When she felt him let go, she eased her finger out of him. Setting him down, she invited me up, as she picked up the black nozzle full of holes with its tubing that led back up to the bulging red bag. She gave me a sample, and quickly said it was brother's turn, asking me to hold it for her tightly.

Setting me down, I laid on the floor with my stiffy curved back strongly. I was not concerned, it seemed normal to me. As brother was being received onto her lap he started whimpering again. She massaged his tight little hole till he calmed down. Explaining how he needed his enema, he gathered his courage and received the smooth nozzle with its extra spread of grease. When I heard her release the water into him with a click, I knew he was going to start crying again. But no, he showed courage and even seemed to be studying his experience in mom's lap, as she caressed his back. In a little while, his breathing had changed and mom knew that to go further would result in a mess.

She asked me if I was alright and I was wanting to show all the greatness I could muster for her. She set him on the chamber pot we all used and he let it blow out, with laughter. She turned to me and asked if i was ready for the rest of it. I stammered doubtfully of what I was about to receive. "Well, we must get started though", she demanded. She handed the nozzle to me as I lay on the floor and instructed me to place it into me for her. I looked it over with serious apprehension. "Come on, let's do it, or I will have to ask dad back in here. As i worked it into me she turned it loose and the spray seemed to tickle.

My stiffy suddenly revived and stood at attention again. I was surprised and took notice. "That's it, now you are doing it for mamma, aren't you?" she cooed to me with satisfaction of her own. Again, just like little brother, as my breathing changed, she clamped it off, declaring I had been brave and to hold it tight, till I got onto the pot. A couple weeks later brother and I were probing one another with an enema nozzle. Our respect for mamma was keen and we chose her words as we worked on each other, which led to all kinds of adventures.

I remember crying fussing and being very upset do not remember if i put up a fight i guess i could have but i know in the end i got it in the end 😃

Very well expressed, Enemas Embrace. I could not have expressed it so eloquently, but your early experiences mirror my own. Mom's gentle and loving touch that somehow meant so much more than just the task at hand. Thanks!

I was a submissive compliant enema boy. Once step mom made up her mind there was no further discussion

I think I was pretty easy for mom. She was quick to pick up on the signs that I was not feeling well and to suggest an enema would help my stomach ache. Her enemas were not too big and it didn't take long to realize that I really did feel better after an enema. But, I had to do a bit of protesting so as to not let her know I actually liked getting them. Eventually she figured out I was giving myself enemas anyway so she stopped asking if I needed an enema.