Did you easily accept being given enemas as a child?

I must have had bowel trouble when I was very young and received bulb enemas that I do not remember. When I was 3 1/2 Mom and Dad explained to me that I was going to get my first can enema as they thought I was going to need lots of enemas. When we walked to the bathroom I was looking forward to getting the enema. When the nozzle slowly inserted and the water started I thought this was great. My need for frequent enemas never happened and I only got them when I was constipated or sick. My siblins did not get the introduction I got so I fussed and complained like they did but I never really minded.

Not at the beginning, but at about 7 I started enjoying them, and playing with the bulb syringe whenever I could and nobody was around.

Bruce E: Was it likely that your parents gave you a good explanation, even in simple terms, before introducing you to the enema can and that is why you accepted it so well? I envy you and others who got that start. My first experience with the enema can full of soapy water at 4 was an unhappy surprise.

Eman5: I have no memory of what was said but as we walked, hand in hand, down the hall to the bathroom I was very excited about what was going to happen to me. When I saw the Jones Irrigator, the red hose and black hard rubber nozzle, sitting on the edge bathtub I had no fear and wanted it to get started. As I grew older I was afraid to tell Mom how much I liked enemas as I think my brothers didn't so I never thanked her for what she started.

Bruce E:

It would have wonderful if, like you, I and others here were fascinated by seeing the enema equipment about to be used on us and williing to accept the treatment well.

My Mother was and still is the most caring and disarming person I have ever met. If she said that an enema was going to meke me well,

I was on my hands and knees within seconds. And she was right!!!

Now I love them for many reasons !

I know I cried and protested as a youngster but as time went by and by the time I was 8 I started asking for them.

At age 8, my very first enema was given in such a tender, gentle, and intimate way by my mother that I actually got great pleasure from the experience. In retrospect, I think my mother went out of her way to be sure I would not be afraid or apprehensive about being being completely undressed, over her lap, and penetrated anally when she gave me that first enema. She made it clear that there might be times in the future when I would need or want to be given an enema, and that there was no reason to feel shame or embarrassment to say so if I wanted her to give me another one. - which I did

My first enema came at the age of four, during a bout with measles in which I was spiking a very high fever. I was told that my fever was in the 104 -105 range and nothing was getting it down. As a last resort, the doctor ordered ice water enemas until the fever began to subside. If you've never received an ice water enema, you'll never forget it when you do! I didn't! The cramping was so awful that I remember feeling as though I was being cut in half. But as a last resort, it did reduce my fever and probably saved my life.

Suffice it to say, my first experience was less than pleasant. But as time passed and enemas were used under less traumatic circumstances, I came to enjoy the feeling of the warm water and also the additional "tingling" that came along when I was about 12 years old. And now, 40 + years later...they are a part of my life that brings relaxation and pleasure.

I have never figured out why I was given enemas as a child but it happened on a twice monthly interval. I always protested, but to no avail and was always embarrassed. I cannot remember at what age they started, but they stopped at age eleven when I cummed all over the bathroom floor when she inserted the big black douche nozzle on the third enema of the series. I believe my being given enemas as a child addicted me to them for lifetime-which has not been a bad thing. It took me a few years to start giving myself enemas (with the same bag, nozzle,etc.) after she stopped and I haven't stopped since.

I was chronically constipated and my mom made sure that my nanny kept track of my BM's. My nanny was very nice and gentle, but she made it very clear that I was going to go potty on a regular basis-or else. If I didn't cooperate with whatever she wanted to give me (soap stick, laxative, enemas) it didn't matter. I got them anyway. If I didn't cooperate she used appropriate force and I got put in a diaper since she considered me to be acting like a baby. If I was diapered, the soap stick or enema was followed up with a dose of Fletcher's Castoria and that meant that I would be in diapers and plastic pants for the rest of the day. So basically if I accepted the treatment, I got to use the toilet. If I didn't, I got it anyway and was put in diapers.

Bruce E and eman5 are driving me wild with their memories of getting it with the white can. I posted a while back that the first time I saw the Jones Irrigator with red rubber hose and black nozzle hanging in the bathroom I took off running. I can still hear Mom calling to my Dad. "Honey", grab him and bring him in here."

He put me on the floor on my back and sat on me to hold me down. I was crying and bellowing with rage. I got it anyway. I was three or four. I.don't remember much more.

A lot of fear of the enema can was abetted by exaggerated tales from other kids about their experiences. About age five I was enduring a terrific bellyache, so I was considerably more cooperative when I was told to lie on my left side and hold it in. That hurt like hell. I hated enemas until the day at age seven when home alone I ventured to tickle the tail of the dragon once more. That was the event that catapulted me into a lifetime of furtive experiments. I knew that the Jones enema can was not a toy for boys to play with. That made it all the more haunting. It hung on a brass hook in the bathroom closet.

Heavens no! It took awhile before I discovered there could be some real pleasurable effects. Early on, my self- administrations were more for survival so that I was the one in control of my bowels rather than mom, grandma, or my pediatrician. Once the light came on, the obsession or fetish was there for life. Thank goodness I've discovered some legitimacy for my secret passions that perhaps prompted some guilt feelings in the past.

Long live the good old fashioned enema!!! What a simple pleasure and process.

As a child I had slow moving bowels so I would not have a BM for a couple of days and my Mother would tell me it was time for an enema. I hollered and threw a fit but it never stopped her from taking my clothes off in my room except for my briefs and being ushered into the bathroom. It seemed as if she put a lot of soapy water in the big red bag and I was draped over the bathtub, the nozzle inserted and when I heard the CLICK I enjoyed the first part but the cramps started coming and I don't remember her stopping the flow until the bag was empty.

Heavens no. Mom's enemas were very matter-of-fact and she was all business in the bathroom. I'd cry, complain and beg but to no avail. About once a month or so I'd be called into the bathroom, told to remove all my clothes and bend over the towel-draped toilet. After one memorable session with the bulb that triggered a dry orgasm (knew nothing about this at the time), all the fussing stopped. I was hooked.

It was during one of my early bulb sessions from mom that I saw the light. While she was slowly squeezing the second bulbful of hot soapy water into me, she kept telling me to hold it real tight so I wouldn't leak. The combination of squeezing tightly with the increasing pressure from the enema caused an memorable dry orgasm. I never minded getting enemas after that, and would even fake it sometimes just to get one.

No way! I screamed bloody murder over the bulb until age 6. Then I was switched over to the bag and just cried lots. Mom's technique was terrible! No lube, air in the hose, bag held way too high and no stops or slow-downs. They truly hurt.

At 12, I had to have an enema before going to the hospital for an appendectomy and Mom used the vaginal nozzle, lubed with cold creme and held the bag low; it was very nice, in spite of the pain from the infected appendix.

I never complained mainly because my mother like to give enemas. She would nicely explain what was going to happen and why you needed one.One reason I learned to enjoy enemas. I always quietly submitted when I was told I was going to get an enema.

Enemas were never a problem or a fear for me as a child. My mother was always very gentle with giving me warm Ivory soap suds enemas while laying on a towel on the heated floor in the bathroom. I probably started receiving enemas at the age of 3 whenever I had been sick for more than a couple of days. My folks were strong believers in the healing effects of enemas, so we received them whenever they felt it necessary. I was too young to be sexually stimulated by them, but neither did I mind the feeling of the nozzle in my bottom, and the warm soap suds entering me. In fact, as I remember them, the enemas felt kind of good.....which is why I still enjoy them today.

There was never a choice in the matter. An enema was always given when staying home from school sick and at the start of any cold or illness. Also, if I lasted two days without going, I would have until evening to produce. There was never any use in bargaining or complaining because it was always going to happen. When asked, I always hated to admit that I did feel better after it was over.

When I was very young I did make a fuss when getting an enema but as I got older I began to really like being given a good soap suds enema from mom.

Didn't have any choice in the matter

Loved them from the start (about age 4). Couldn't get enough, would often ask for and get them. Being naked and exposed to the giver still turns me on even 60 yrs later.

NO,when called to the bathroom, could see the open top red bag with lots of water. I froze in the hall but Mom dragged me into the bathroom,then I refused the enema.GUESS WHAT I GOT IT ANYWAY!

Yes, I think so. I don't remember enemas before about 7 or 8 years old but by then I realized that when mom suggested "a little water to help you go", it was not a bad thing. I remember getting enemas a few times a year and I remember getting only 1 or 2 bulbs full with the red bulb so it was not that uncomfortable or traumatic. I remember the tingling as she slipped it into me and the warmth of the water squirting into my little butt.

When I was about 10 or so I remember staying at grandma's during summer vacation and at some point had a stomach ache and she suggested an enema would help. I had seen a red bulb in her bathroom like the one we had at home so I agreed. But I was surprised when she called me into the bathroom to see the red hot water bottle hanging from the towel bar but no enema bulb in sight. It was a new experience for me that was somehow exciting laying there on the floor feeling my belly fill up. She didn't make me take any more than I could hold comfortably, so it was a good experience. So good, that a few weeks later I faked a tummy ache to see if I could get another enema with the water bottle. It worked.

The next time mom gave me an enema, I paid close attention to how she "burped" the bulb to get the air out before she slipped it into me. After she left the room and I expelled what she gave me, I refilled the bulb and gave myself my first enema by my own hand. So it started. Our red bulb was conveniently kept under the sink in the bathroom and I would take it into the bathtub with me, and as I got older when mom and dad left me home without a babysitter I would give myself small enemas after my little sister was in bed.

By time I was 12 or 13 my mom stopped asking me if I needed "a little water". I guess she figured out that I knew how to do it myself.

Love you posts, Cheryl ... As a grade schooler, my sister and I accepted mom's enemas because mom always seemed to know best ... when she said our tummy aches would go away after an enema, she was right, so the next time she "suggested" one, we readily admitted we needed one. We didn't protest and often enjoyed the experience ... especially when mom suggested a second enema because she didn't think the first one was not enough. The second one was always more enjoyable than the first.

And we especially looked forward to soapy enemas because when mom gave us two, it meant at least three rinse enemas ... we enjoyed.

By the I was in the seventh grade, mom had taught me to self-administer, and by the time I was in the eighth grade, my sister and I were administering to each other ... often and enjoying the experiences. We didn't do soapy enemas, but did give each other plenty of plane water enemas.

Not at first, I cried, screamed and resisted, but not for long, I soon began excepting, even looking forward to them, I eventually started asking for enemas if I was craving one.

I always struggled and resisted when I was a kid, but stopped resisting and resigned myself to them as a teenager since struggling and resisting didn't do any good, I still got the enemas anyway.

Enemas were given to me by mom and she did not put up with protests. A few hard smacks across the butt ended the protests but not the tears.

The bulb insertions were fast and deep and the soapy water was hot. I was always glad when it was over and I could sit on the toilet.

When I was 6 or 7 she started using a bag for my enemas and they were different. I actually wanted them and she stopped giving me enemas.

Yes, I never really minded getting MY enemas.My mommy always explained why at the very first one that I remember.I can remember getting my first one about 9 years old,but mommy tells me I was getting them for many years before that one. I always felt soooo much better after my emptying.

Received regular soapsuds enemas from mom until I was about 10. Then they just stopped. . She and dad kept on taking regular enemas. They would be in the bathroom for an hour or more. They used to lay on the iron board which was laid across the bathtub and toilet.