Author:
AV
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Date Posted: Monday, July 14, 2025, 06:53: am
I was around 5-6 years old when mom started giving me enemas. What amazes me is all my young life growing up, I never once knew one person who received enemas also. I always thought I was the only one. Something else as well is no one in the family told either. It was like this “family secret” I received enemas and it stayed within the family.
I remember once though I went to the doctor for a shot around 8 - 9 years old and that shot was given in the butt back then. That is one thing I remember well. When it came time to give the shot, my pants and underwear came down, well I stained my underwear. Mom look at the doctor and quickly said, “don’t work about that, I’ll take care of that later when we get back home.” The doctor may not have understood but I surely did.
Leaving and mom driving home, we lived about 25 miles away, I vividly remember looking out the window at the corn field that stretched for miles hoping and praying mom would forget. Dang, how could see, I stained my underwear. But I still hoped and prayed as I looked out the window.
When we arrived home, one brother had a friend over. They were in our shared bedroom. Back then, we sleep in bunkbeds and shared the same bedroom. I joined the room quickly sitting on my bed playing with toys still hoping mom would not do anything since we had company. Now, this was prior to me getting enemas in the evenings after bath.
Eventually mom came to the door and called me to come with her. Of course I refused. Mom then asked my brother and his friend, yes his friend, to bring me to the bathroom as she left. My brother and his friend grabbed me and man handled me to the bathroom. I tried to break lose, pulling and tugging but to no hope. Mom was already in the bathroom as they pushed me in. Mom quickly shut and locked the door. She told me to get my clothes off and get on the toilet right now. She started helping me undress and swatting my bottom as I resisted. She quickly put the underwear in the sink and ran water as I sit down on the toilet. That is when I noticed something. The bulb and jar sitting on the counter, made prior my mom before calling me in.
She washed my underwear and quickly took my arm lifting me. She didn’t have to say a word. I went over her lap and got in position with my head down and bottom right where she wants it. I remember this enema vividly. I took a lot of breaths because I did not want my brother and his friend called in. Oh yes, If I resisted enough, mom would have called for backup. I cried as well because I heard outside the door the friend ask my brother what was happening. My brother told him I was getting an enema. I remember reaching back with my hand to either cover my bottom or to take the bulb out as mom was squeezing the warm soapy solution in me. Kicking my feet was something else I did. I thought if I kicked mom would not be able to get to her target. But she didnt hesitate stopping and popping my bottom a few times to get my attention. And always I turned and looked after the first bulb was in me and watched mom fill the second time the bulb. She would make sure there was no air left in it as she would allow it to take form and dip it again to get suds from the top as I listened to the suds suck into the bulb. I cried begging her to hurry up, i gotta go, i cant hold it any longer.
Mom would let me up and start cleaning up as I sit down for my auto routine. My thinking as a child was to release as little soapy water as possible without releasing any poop. And so that was what I always tried to do. I figured if I released the soapy water without the poop, I won. Nope! Never happened. When the warm soapy water took over with those urges, I gripped the side of the toilet, lifting my feet and myself up as the locomotive was rolling fast. I inhaled and exhaled, relaxed, and emptied, so defeated. As my brother and his friend continued to play, I took my nap.
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