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From the beginning, she explained that it was important to take and hold as much water as possible in order to obtain the best results.

She also said that she would gradually increase the amount of water until she felt I was being adequately cleaned out.

I'm not sure how long it was that mom continued to use the small bulb syringe on me, but it went on for quite some time.

I think I was in third grade when I got my first enema from a larger bulb. When I entered the bathroom for my "cleaning", the customary small bulb syringe was gone and in its place was a much larger bulb syringe with a longer nozzle.

Next to this seemingly huge bulb was the white enamel pitcher of soapy water from which the bulb was filled. Mom must have seen the expression on my face and sensed my concern, because she quickly explained that one filling from the large bulb was that same a four or five with the small one that I was used to.

I was instructed to remove all of my clothes except for my underpants. While I was removing my clothes, I could see mom filling the bulb from the pitcher and I knew what was next.

Mom then sat down on the chair, placed a towel across her lap, and then instructed me to lie across her lap. Mom then dug her finger into a jar of Vaseline on the small table next to the chair and thoroughly lubricated my rectum.

During the early enema years, her finger in my bottom was what I disliked most about enema time. As I got older and the enemas became larger, her finger became insignificant.

I then felt the nozzle being inserted and then the flow of the warm water. When she had injected all of the water from the large bulb into my bowels, I assumed that I was done, but when I started to move to get off her lap, I was told to stay put and she held me firmly on her lap.

Mom proceeded to fill the bulb a second time from the pitcher. When I started to protest, she reminded me that in order for the enema to do the most cleaning, it was important to use as much water as possible.

Mom inserted the nozzle a second time and slowly squeezed the bulb emptying its contents into my bowels. I told mom that I felt like I was going to explode and she said "nonsense, you can hold a lot more that that.

While I sat on the toilet and continued to drain, mom cleaned up and said that the larger amount of water was the reason for the rapid expulsion and that this was what a good cleaning was all about.

She also said that she had been giving me weekly enemas over two years and that I was now ready to take the larger enema like she had just given me.

The large, two bulb clean outs continued for a while and then became three bulb enemas. Any time I cried or complained about not liking enemas or about feeling too full, she said that while I might find the larger enemas uncomfortable, that I was now really getting properly cleaned out, which was most important for good health.

She would frequently add, "I realize that you do not enjoy this, but I'm doing this for your own good. She explained that this was to remove the soap solution which could be irritating.

After I had expelled the rinse enema, Mom would check the results in the toilet to see if there were any, as she called them, "solids".

If solids were present, the rinse enemas continued until there were no solids. One night while I was across mom's lap I happened to notice a red bag hanging from a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

There was a red tube coming out of the bottom of the bag and it looped around and went back in the top of the bag.

I had never seen it before and wondered what it was, but I didn't ask. When I saw it there again several months later, Mom explained that it was what adults used to take enemas with and that before too long she would show me how it worked.

She said that it was called a fountain syringe or an enema bag. She reminded me again that the larger the enema was, the better the cleaning out you got and that this was important to good health.

I think I received bulb type enemas for two years or so before I was introduced to the enema bag. I was about 10 years old when I got my first enema from the big red bag.

When I entered the bathroom for my cleaning, mom was at the sink with the enema bag. When I looked toward the bathtub, I saw that a board had been placed over the top of the tub.

After telling me to get undressed, Mom opened the cabinet, removed a pad, and placed it on top of the board. She then opened one of the drawers and removed a folded bundle that turned out to be a rubber sheet.

The rubber sheet was placed over the pad. Enemas on Mom's lap were about to become a thing of the past. Mom began by reassuring me saying that the nozzle that was used with the bag was no larger than the one on the large bulb syringe.

She also told me that my first enemas from the bag would not use any more water that the bulb enemas that I had been getting. She then explained that a person getting an enema from a bag had to be lying down and instructed me to get up on the board on top of the tub.

After hanging the bag from the shower rod, she had me lie on my left side, lubricated me and inserted the nozzle. She was right, it did not feel any bigger than the nozzle on the bulb.

Mom then said that she would release the clamp on the hose and the water would start to flow into me. For the first time in my young life I heard the click of the metal clamp being released and almost immediately I felt the warm fluid entering me.

After a short time I began to feel fuller than I had ever felt before and I asked Mom to stop. While holding the nozzle in place, she had me roll over on my back and began to knead my stomach with her other hand.

She opened the clamp and the water resumed its flow and I quickly said, "please stop, I can't hold any more.

Still the water flowed and I pleaded with her, but all she kept saying was that I was almost done.

When the bag was finally empty, she removed the nozzle and continued to rub my stomach. When I asked if I could go to the toilet she said that I now had to learn to hold an enema and the longer I held it the better I would be cleaned out.

After a minute or two, she finally allowed me to relieve myself. While I was on the toilet, Mom was at the sink with the enema bag and I thought that she was cleaning up and putting away.

Much to my surprise and dismay she filled the bag again maybe half full and hung it from the shower rod. When I was finished on the toilet, Mom told me to get back on the board.

She said that this was a clear water enema, just like she used with the bulb enemas that would rinse out the soap and finish cleaning me out.

The soapy enema followed by the clear enema became the norm for all future enemas. When I was younger, I didn't understand why my older sisters would sometimes be teary eyed after their cleanings.

Now I understood. With the switch to the bag also came progressively larger enemas. What started out as a not even half full bag eventually became the bulging bag.

Somewhere in this time period, Mom also began using a larger, tapered nozzle that was fatter on the business end. Mom's reason for using this nozzle was that it would not slide out easily and did a better job of cleaning.

Back then I thought it was a special enema nozzle, later I learned it was a douche nozzle. One of Mom's rules was that you had to take the full amount in the bag or start all over again with another full bag.

Her rationale was that the same as it always was, "it is important to take the biggest enema possible to be properly cleaned out.

If you don't take the whole bag, the water will not reach high enough into your colon to fully clean it. The other rule was that the first enema had to be held for as long as possible, usually minutes.

After the initial enema was done and we were squirming and groaning on the rubber sheet, she would be cleaning the bag and preparing the rinse enema and telling us how many minutes were left to hold the enema.

I remember two or three occasions when I could not take the whole bag or could not hold it for the prescribed length of time and had to start over with a second bag full.

Friday and Saturday nights were not fun in our house. I remember one time I overheard one of my sisters tearfully telling her sister that "Mom made me do it three times because I couldn't take a whole bag.

The clear rinse enema could be taken in smaller doses, but the bag did have to be emptied. There were no punishment enemas in our house.

All were given for reasons of health and cleanliness, and believe it or not, for occasional constipation.

Even with the weekly cleanings, Mom would periodically check with us in the mornings to make sure we had our bowel movements, even going so far as to tell us not to flush until she could confirm success or failure.

If we failed to produce, we got a visit from Mom the following morning, and if there was no action, we could count on an enema after school.

It didn't matter if we told her that we went in school. If she didn't see it, it didn't happen. Furthermore, these were the polio years and we were told not to use public toilets under any circumstances.

The enema that we got if we were constipated differed from the regular enemas that we received. Enemas to correct constipation started with the routine soapy enema held for minutes.

All of the following rinse enemas were given with a colon tube. Mom's rationale for needing the special tube was that, "it looks like the regular cleanings haven't been doing their job.

This tube will let the water get up to where you really need the cleaning. Her constipation enema preamble went something like this.

Either you are eating unhealthy food after school or you have a more serious problem. If this condition cannot be corrected with an extra cleaning or two, then you will have to be checked by the doctor.

Once the enema was started the colon tube was slowly twisted and pushed well up into my bowels. The rinse enemas were continued until the water we returned to the toilet was clear.

And I do mean clear. Any hint of brown color in the toilet meant at least one more insertion of the colon tube not to mention the enema that went with each insertion.

As any one who has taken repeated enemas knows, it becomes increasingly difficult to take and hold each additional enema. Mom's solution for this was to firmly hold our cheeks together if we could not hold it on our own.

The only times that we didn't get a weekly enema was when we were sick and probably getting daily a enema or two anyway. I remember when I was in 6th grade, I had scarlet fever and was in bed for over a week.

After just two days without a BM, the rubber sheet, enema bag, and bedpan came to my room. Each day that I didn't go, Mom was there with an enema, sometimes twice a day.

During the three days that she had to work, she had a nurse friend that she worked with check on me in the afternoon. First she would take my temperature, and then without even asking if I had gone to the bathroom I was placed on the rubber sheet and given an enema.

I'm not sure what the difference was, but Mrs. W's enemas caused a lot more discomfort than Mom's. I don't know if her enemas were larger than Mom's of if she held the bag higher, but when she was done, I had to scramble for the bed pan.

There was no escaping it in our house. There were no enemas given during the two weeks before Christmas, the week of our birthday, or when we went away for summer vacation.

Unfortunately for us, there was a payback for not having an enema at Christmas or during vacations. I call it payback, Mom called it a full cleaning.

My first opportunity to receive a full cleaning came after summer vacation when I was twelve. The Friday following our return from vacation, we were playing outside in the yard when Mom called me in and told me meet her in the bathroom in 10 minutes.

She also specifically told the others that I would be getting a special cleaning tonight and that they could stay out until dark. I wasn't sure what this meant but it didn't sound good.

When I arrived in the bathroom, Mom was there, the board, mat, and rubber sheet were on the tub, and a partially filled clear plastic enema bag was already hung from the shower rod.

I then noticed the standard red bag laying on the sink. After instructing me to get undressed and get up on the board, Mom proceeded to tell me what was about to happen.

She said, "you haven't had an enema in almost three weeks and while we were on vacation you ate a lot of greasy and rich food that you don't normally eat and we need to get all of that completely cleaned out of your system.

The first enema that I am going to give you is a mineral oil enema that you must hold for at least one hour so it can loosen everything in your colon.

After you expel the mineral oil, I will give you a soapy enema and then we will see what needs to be done after that. Mom inserted the tube and released the clamp and the oil flowed so slowly that I could hardly feel it.

For the first time, she had me get on my hands and knees and then get down on my elbows so my butt was in the air.

About twenty minutes later the last of the mineral oil emptied from the bag and I was done. I still didn't feel very full and thought this procedure might not be too bad.

Mom again explained that it was necessary to retain the enema for at least one hour. She went on to say that if I thought that I had gas, that I was not to release it because I would expel the oil and make a big mess.

She had me put my underwear back on and then led me to my bedroom. Mom placed a rubber sheet on my bed and told me that I could lie down and read a book or take a nap.

I asked if I could go back out and play for the hour, but she said that all the movement would certainly cause an accident. Mom then rubbed my stomach for a few minutes and then left the room.

I remember some occasional distress and squirming to hold the oil and watching the clock on my dresser. The hour lasted for ever. Over an hour later Mom reappeared in my bedroom and escorted me back to the bathroom and told me to go to the toilet.

Expelling the oil was a different experience. Rather than the usual violent reaction from a soapy enema, everything seemed to slide out of me.

After draining for a few minutes, I was told to get back on the board. Now the usual red enema bag hung bulging from the shower rod. Mom started the soapy enema with me lying on my left side, but soon had me up on my hands and knees.

I was then told emphatically that I had to take the entire bag so the soapy enema could remove everything that had been softened by the mineral oil.

When I began to feel quite full, I looked at the bag hanging above me hoping to see that it was almost empty.

Much to my dismay, it was still half full. The solution continued to flow into me until I said that I couldn't hold any more.

Mom stopped the flow, had me lie on my back and immediately reopened the clamp.

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Recommended Reading Recent Posts. My Activity. October 14, paewin joined Avid Community. My Files. My Announcements. The noise was coming from the next room where Rina was sleeping.

I got up from the bed and walked to that room. The room door was opened and the light was on. I called my aunt.

Aunt from inside the room asked me to come in. In the room Rina was on the bed awake under a sheet.

She was holding her stomach and showing some kind of pain in her face. Uncle and aunt were there. I noticed that there was a bucket of water on the floor and on the table was something I have never seen before.

It was a syringe except it was massive. Where there should be the needle of a normal syringe, this syringe had a blunt tube of about a centimetre diameter.

Near that was a rubber tube of about a foot long. There were also a soap case with soap and a cup full of coconut oil on the table.

This happened many years ago and I can't remember the conversation word to word but try to fill in. She whispered to me.

So uncle and I are going to force her to poop. You are a little boy so I let you watch how we do it. But I want you to promise me that when you go back to school you don't tell any of your friends what you are going to see today, ok?

When we went back to the room uncle had already put Rina in the position for her treatment. The bed was in the middle of the room and uncle was standing on the other side of me.

The bed sheet that was covering Rina was lifted up to her waist. Rina was not wearing any cloths. I was only eleven and I can't remember if I was aroused by looking at Rina like that but I was excited.

I stood opposite to uncle, near the leg side of Rina. Her knees and hip was bent right up. To make it more clear, now aunt put her l.

Uncle first had a good look at it and went to the table. He dipped his right index finger in the cup of coconut oil and came back. I figured that aunt was forcing holding Rina down.

Now I was a little anxious. But one thing was for sure. The face covered with both her palms Rina was trembling.

Uncle looked at aunt once again, nodded and But aunt pushed her down even tighter. Uncle was checking inside Rina for a while and looked at aunt and shook his head.

I didn't know what it meant. After a little while uncle pulled his finger out of Rina and looked at it. It was clean.

Uncle and aunt looked at each other with concern. Uncle then wiped his hands and made Rina to lie on her back and moved the bed sheet away from the bed.

Rina was now lying completely naked. Her face still showed pain. I asked about it and aunty once again took me out of the room and explained. Aunt then showed me a picture from one of her books explaining the alimentary canal.

Once again aunty took her position holding Rina and uncles finger went into her poop hole. Now uncle went to the table and took the soap and spread it all over his right hand and came back to Rina.

At the same time aunt was filling the large syringe with water and fixed the rubber tube to the front of the syringe. But uncle and aunt held her on the bed for about five minutes and Rina ran out of the room in to the toilet.

Is enema always this difficult? Excellent post. I want to take the uncles post and make it into reality. Like most members of this forum, my first experiences with enemas that I can remember was when I was a boy of about 4-years old.

Those enemas at that age were not a pleasant experience at all. At 5-years old they still seemed horrible to me. My mom used the soapsuds method where she poured that malicious mixture into me from that full 2-quart red rubber bag which caused such awful cramps.

But when I was about six, mom made two changes in the procedure that helped me get through the ordeal a little better.

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