As a child

As a child I remember having a high fever and I remember sitting in my moms bedroom watching her on an old dial style phone with receiver to her face talking to the nurse at my doctors office. The nurse told my mom that my temperature needed to be brought down and was given directions on how to administer a cool enema before bringing me into their office. The next part is fuzzy but where my memory picks up is laying face down on the floor in what was my brothers room at the time and I could see both my mom and my grandmother standing over me. On the floor they had put down some towels and a pillow for me to lay on. I don't remember taking off my clothes. Childhood memories are fragmented like that. But I remember the insertion of the nozzle into my rectum.

I'm not sure if it was just cool water or ice cold water. The nurse at my doctors offices had explained that they needed to bring my temperature down.

So I received this enema with my mom and grandmother looking at my bare bottom. I didn't know enough at the time to feel any shame or anything. It was all matter of fact with little discussion or drama.

I expelled and repeated the procedure a couple of times while these women looked on. Being that young it was nothing special to be naked in front of my mom or grandmother.

But these days, as I recall those memories, they have a sexual factor that I can't explain.

As a kid everything can become erotic, I remember at age 13 we had a demo in class when the teacher pricked a finger to obtain a drop of blood for an experiment. I remember that the 2 friends standing close to me had errections as soon as the finger was pricked.

As a kid everything can become erotic,

It was also prevalent to get erections from sheer nervousness in school as well. I know that many times prior to having to go in front of the class to present something, say a book report or whatever - that would evoke an erection, but from simply being nervous. Or at least that´s what I tell myself now ... ha ha.

I know that some kids were teased about it, but being ridiculously naive at the time, I didn´t see what the big deal was. Luckily I was never joshed about it, or else I concealed my ´nervousness´ better because of the way I dressed or whatever, maybe the guys being made fun of were exceptionally endowed ...

I do remember though that in a Catholic parochial school I unhappily attended for a few years, that the mean spirited nuns would get very nasty at any pupils who developed ´sewing machine knees´. They would snap and make one of their typical snide commands at the unlucky pupil, a desist immediately command. Maybe the movement annoyed or distracted them (but then again almost everything annoyed them), but now at a more mature age i realize that maybe they thought something else was going on. I´m sure they suffered enormously from Freud´s ´What´s on a Man´s Mind Syndrome´ and saw unhealthy habits in so many otherwise innocent occurrences.

Similar experience here with enema, but the nurse come home and all was ready to take

As a child I usually tried to disguise illness as long as possible because it was the era of penicillin shots and my greatest fear was the painful humiliation of bending over the receptionist's lap for her to watch me get one in my vulnerable bare bottom. Disguising illness was, however, counter-productive in that it only delayed the dread treatment and gave me more time to worry about it.

As a child I usually tried to disguise illness as long as possible

Now that you mention this, I remember that I too tried to never admit being ill. But it wasn't about being afraid of getting an injection or anything. It had probably more to do with the way my mother reacted to any illness - she considered everything life-threatening, virtually everything from a cold to whatever. There would be the worried looks, the anxious looks and then the calling of the doctor (yes, back when they made house calls in the US) and then the stoic look and attitude when he came and gave the verdict. I hated being treated like that, as if I were helpless or about to leave the world behind me. Because truly, my mother could act as if my last hours were on hand. I felt silly about her attitude but also half responsible for becoming ill in the first place.

Many, many, many years later I found out she had a reasonable fear of childhood illnesses. She never told me, but when I was long an adult and in my 50s I think, I was informed and shown the papers and certificates, that an older half-sister of mine had died when less than a week old of something unspecified but banal. It happened during the war, just one week before Liberation, so there might have been some element of the Occupation involved, not enough healthy food or vitamins, whatever.

When I found out I was really flabbergasted because she had never ever said anything at all about this traumatic event. But it did explain much of her behavior when I was ill. She was horrified of it ever happening again.

I would suspect that many of the fetishistic inclinations represented on this site, are somehow related to events we experienced "as a child". I'm sure that in most cases, there were no overt, or intentional efforts, on the part of our parents or caregivers to initiate such outcomes. In "those days", the treatments were medically supported and acceptable. The procedures were documented and illustrated to educate professionals and lay persons as well.

While most of those "natural" responses were likely experienced by, or well known to those who administered the treatments or procedures, they were discounted or overlooked in most cases. Some obviously were the brunt of jokes, teasing, hazing, or other types of discussion. I'm sure that few nurses were oblivious to the reactions when certain procedures were carried out.

In any case, I'm sure I was as embarrassed, fearful, and resistant to situations that would result in the necessity of certain treatments. If that meant concealing symptoms or illness, so be it. If I stayed home from school claiming illness, certain procedures and treatments were to be expected. If I complained of a tummy ache, there was no question that a date with mom and the enema bag were forthcoming. Heaven forbid that I also had to have a dose of Paregoric or other foul tasting medicine. Then there was the fear of the needle, Especially if a shot was given in the butt.

Many of those treatments and procedures triggered unbelievable responses and our hearts would race like we had just run a marathon. It's funny how some of us "came" to realize that certain procedures resulted in some substantial outcums and are now sought out as a source of extreme pleasure and enjoyment.

For me too the kink started from a childhood experience, my first operation, I was held down and forcibly gassed, a vivid experience that I've lived again and again in my nightmares, the lights, the uniforms, being overpowered, the smell of gas, the gradual effect of anesthesia...

Wow. Very nice. If we could go back in time and remember more, it would be great. Or even watch what was happening to us. Well we can always dream

My mom was not one to use the enema as a cure all for every malady know to man. She administered them for one of two reasons.... Constipation or fever. If my temperature was slightly elevated her course of action was a couple of baby asprin and rest. If it was a high fever, she would always add repeated cooling enemas to her treatment. I adopted the same treatment for my children except that I now use Tylenol instead of asprin.