Addicted to the Red Bag

I don’t exactly know at what age I was when I first had an encounter with the big red bulging bag, but I do remember that I was very young and that my family and I lived in a house on Vick Street. This fact alone meant I must have been somewhere around the age of three or three and a half though.


I had been ill for a couple of days and Mom became worried. She had tried all sorts of home remedies to get my fever to break. Finally, she decided to bite the bullet and take me to see our family doctor, Doctor Messina, a man I now know prescribed enemas to cure about everything.

However, I don’t recall anything spectacular about that visit, but following the visit fireworks began to take shape. I remember leaving Messina’s office and going downtown with Mom to a Rexall Drug Store where she purchased a red and black box that appeared to be about 8 inches wide and I think a foot and a half long. I did not know what she was getting and I didn’t ask. I was just with her. We then went straight back home where Mom placed me into bed.

Later that night, I awoke burning up with fever. I called to Mom and both she and Dad came in. They called Doctor Messina on the phone. That was followed by Mom giving me some aspirin and then taking me into the bathroom where she proceeded to open that red and black box.

I couldn’t help but watch her as she pulled a big red bag, then some red tubing, and a couple of black things out of that box. She appeared to know what she was doing and she soon had all those things together. In fact, before I knew it, Mom had gotten up, walked over to the sink, turned on the faucet and began putting water into the bag. Then she put the tubing into the bag and walked over to the toilet and sat down holding the bag in one hand and reaching for me with the other. I didn’t know whether to run or go to her. But regardless, the next thing I knew, I was bent over Mom’s lap and she was taking my underwear off. I think it was at that point that Mom told me that she was going to give me a cold tap water enema to help reduce the fever. I didn’t say anything, I was at her mercy.

Within moments, though, I felt her smear something onto my bootie hole followed, I think, by Mom saying something like, “this may hurt a little.” I tensed up and then felt Mom sliding something up into me. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel weird. I started to say something, but before I could, Mom unsnapped the thing on the tubing and low and behold, I began my first experience with that red bag. And if I might add, I think I became addicted to that “thing” from that point on.


For, there was no doubt, I liked the feeling of the water entering me. I don’t think many people know a child that young would experience sensuality, but I did and that was enough to make me an enema addict for life. In fact, I couldn’t get the thought of taking another enema out of my mind. I think I must have dreamed many a dream which depicted Mother giving me enemas. To tell the truth, some were so life-like that I probably would have swore that they were real. I guess you might say that by the time I was 7, if dreams were reality, I would have taken hundreds of enemas where in reality I probably only had taken one.

I, however, continued to hope against hope that someday, I would again experience that ecstasy I experienced years before. In fact, I even wished to become sick and every time I got sick, I hoped Mom would remember what Doctor Messina prescribed that one special night, but to my amazement, she didn’t.

Finally, at around the age of 9, I decided that I had to do something on my own. I had to experience that feeling again. Just dreaming no longer filled the bill. So what did little old me do, I dreamed up a plot that I just knew would work.


Having looked up the word enema in the dictionary, I now knew that an enema was not only given to relieve fever, but to relieve constipation as well. So, what did I do, I decided that I was going to get constipated, at least I was going to let Mom think I was.

I decided that the bathroom at home was off limits. This way Mom couldn’t tell whether I was having movements or not. In addition, I decided to eat about everything I could in front of Mom and Grandma night after night.

Would my plan work? I didn’t know, but I was sure going to give it the old American try because I was desperate.


I believe that my first attempt took place on a Sunday night, a school night. I remember that I waited till it was somewhere after nine o’clock to allow my brother to be asleep. I didn’t want anyone but Mom and possibly my grandmother knowing of my problem.

I got up out of bed knowing that both Mom and Grandma were in the living room watching TV. I was just determined to give it a try. As planned, I had eaten a rather large lunch and supper that night and I knew that Mom and Grandma knew it because Grandma even commented on it to me, telling me I was going to burst if I didn’t stop eating so much.

I left my room and tip-toed into the living room with my belly looking pregnant as I planned. Mom looked up at me and asked me, “what are you doing up?”

I told her that I couldn’t sleep because my stomach was hurting and that I thought that I needed to go to the bathroom.

Grandma then said, “then you had better go!”

I told her that I had tried, but couldn’t.

Mom then asked me when was the last time that I had been able to go and I told her that I hadn’t been in about four days. Grandma looked up at me and said, “four days?”

I said, “yes, I think so.”

Grandma spoke to Mom and said, “Mary, you need to help your child out.”

Mom didn’t waste any time. She took me straight into the kitchen, opened one of the cabinets, pulled out a bottle of Fletcher’s Castoria and proceeded to deliver a super large dose down my throat.

Mom then said, “that oughta help you by morning. Now go on back to bed.”

I wasn’t at all happy. My attempt had failed and I knew that in the morning I was going to splatter shit everywhere and I knew Mom and the rest of the house would hear it, thereby ending my constipation idea. So, I had to come up with a secondary plan.


The next morning, I got up early, way before Mom or anyone else in the house was up. I then quietly exited out the backdoor and went out behind the garage where I relieved myself in a pile of grass. Then, I quietly re-entered the house and went back to bed where I fell back to sleep. An hour or so later, Mom came into the room to wake my brother and me up for school. In doing so, Mom asked how I felt, and I said, “terrible.”

Mom asked me if I had been to the bathroom during the night and I replied a resounding, “no.”

She again took me to the kitchen and again gave me a large dose of Castoria. She said that if this dose didn’t work, she was going to call Doctor Messina for his advice.

My brother and I went on off to school where I stayed all day and intentionally missed my ride home. I wanted to walk so I could again relieve myself before I got home, which I did.

Mom met me right at the door as I entered. She looked mad. I spoke up quickly, “I had to do a little extra work in math, Mom, that is why I missed my ride home with Mrs. Jabour.”

Mom seemed satisfied with that answer and then she asked me the question I had been waiting for, “Mike, have you been to the bathroom yet?”

I, fake belly and all, said, “no, not even a rumble.” Mom, looking concerned began to shake her head in bewilderment as she began to leave the room. Then I heard her say, “I’d better give Dr. Messina a call.” I sat down and turned the TV on.

A couple of minutes later, Mom re-entered the room. This time though, Grandma was with her. They smiled at me and then sat down beside me, one on each side. I turned and looked at both of them. Then, Mom said, “I did talk with Doctor Messina and he suggested that I give you an enema, Mike.”

I just sat there looking at her and then at Grandma with this dumb look on my face. I didn’t want to seem too excited you know, but I was really busting at the gut to grab both them and hug them, but I didn’t dare.

Then, I became brave and uttered to Mom, “what exactly is that?”

Well, she him-hawed a bit and then said, “Mike, an enema is where I will be putting water up into you through your bootie hole in a very humiliating position.”

I asked her, “Will it hurt?”

Mom replied, “I don’t think so, Mike. I, myself, have only had one enema in my life and that was right before I had you. And to tell you the truth, I don’t remember it hurting. But, Mike, I do remember, that I was really embarrassed and humiliated both during the time the nurses administered the enema to me and afterwards as well.”

I inquired, “well, did it do what it was supposed to do?”

Mom smiled and said, “I don’t think I ever crapped so much in my life. In fact, if my memory serves me correct, I didn’t think I was ever going to get through pooping. You want to try one?”

I didn’t say anything so Mom again spoke up. “If you are as constipated as I think you are, it will make you feel better and I’ll try not to embarrass you too bad.”

I hugged Mom’s neck and said, “I have got to have some kind of relief. You won’t embarrass me. How in the world could you or Grandma do that? You two are not strangers like those nurses were to you at the hospital, Mom. For you have seen me naked on so many occasions I don’t dare guess. In fact, you two have bathed me, changed me, and helped me get dressed. How could giving me an enema be any different? I guess what I am trying to say to both of you is, don’t worry about me. But, my only reservation, like I said before, is that I don’t want it to be too painful.”

Mom leaned over and hugged me. Then she uttered “son, I understand what you are saying, and as for the enema hurting, the enema I took didn’t hurt too bad, only some mild cramping, which the nurses said was caused by the fact that I could never get relaxed during the time I was receiving it.” I said, “oh! then I’ll relax!”

Mom looked me straight in the eye and said, “You had better, because if you do, you might even enjoy it! Because, to be totally honest with you, the feeling I felt about half way through was rather erotic and if I had been given the enema under different circumstances, I might have even enjoyed it.”

I grinned again and then said, “Mom, what does erotic mean?”

Both Mom and Grandma grinned.

I then said, “aren’t you going to tell me?”

Mom, still smiling, said “strange! I think?”

I shook my head a little and smiled.

Mom seeing this spoke up, “I guess that smile means that you have decided to take an enema, right?”

I smiled a super big smile.

Both Mom and Grandma noticed. Then Mom spoke up saying, “well, go on back to the back bathroom and I’ll be back there in a minute or so.”

Grandma then added, “I know that you will feel better in a few minutes.”

I said, “I hope so,” as I turned and walked towards the door leading to my room.

As I exited I heard Grandma tell Mom, “I guess I can help out a little. Mary, you get the Vaseline and soap out of the kitchen and I’ll get the enema bag out of the bathroom cabinet.”


I couldn’t believe it. My plan had worked. I was about to receive the enema that I had been wanting for oh so long. I was so excited that I began to develop goosebumps all over my body and if I am not mistaken, I also began to get a hard on.

The first thing I did was close the door to my room. Then, I locked the bathroom door leading from my room into the bathroom and opened the other door to the bathroom, the door leading to the kitchen. I looked out awaiting my treat and also to see what they were doing. I soon saw Grandma coming out of the front bathroom door carrying this red bag, with red tubing and a black tip. (A knot began to form in my throat, not to mention also in my belly.) Mom saw me looking out, smiled and said, “I’ll be right back, we’re about ready.”

Then she walked over to her mother and took the bag and tubing from her, turned and then began walking right towards me pausing only to pick up the Ivory dishwashing soap and the Vaseline.

Soon, she was at the door. I stepped back and let her enter the bathroom. She looked me straight in the eyes and told me to get undressed. I hesitated just a second. She turned her head a little and held up the bag and tubing at me saying, “I CAN’T GIVE YOU THIS WITH YOUR CLOTHES ON AND YOU DO WANT ME TO GIVE YOU THIS, DON’T YOU?”

I hesitated no more and started removing my shirt. Seeing that, she grinned and then laid the items onto the washing machine, pointing the black nozzle at me as she did. Within seconds I was completely nude and just standing next to Mom. Mom reached over and laid her hand onto my belly. I was beginning to get too excited to be embarrassed. I tensed my stomach muscles which poked out my belly. Mom said, “you do feel a little full, but Mother is going to be helping you out in just a second or so.”

Mom then looked at me and said, making fun at my first real hard on, “Mike, what’s that?”

I grinned and for the first time felt a little embarrassed. But I countered, “I don’t know.”

Mom wasn’t ignorant. She knew that I was turned on by that red bag and hose, but she didn’t let on. She just stepped over and turned the water on. She stood there sticking her finger into the flow. I walked over and asked her what she was doing that for, and she said that she was adjusting the water for a very important reason. I asked her what was that. She replied that she didn’t want to have it too hot or it might burn me.

I said, “well, fill it with cold water.”

She laughed and then replied, “we wouldn’t want the water to be too cold either or it might cause severe cramping.”

I didn’t reply orally. I just shook my head as if I understood.

Finally, she had it just right. She took my hand in hers and pulled it over into the water. “Feel, just right. Right?”

I said, “Feels good to me.”

She reached over and took the red bag off of the washing machine and began filling it with that deliciously warm water. A second or so later she held it up and said, “that should do it, right?”

How was I to know? All I wanted was to have her give me an enema and that was just what she was doing. Then all of a sudden, I became brave and said, “awe Mom, go on and fill it all the way, I might be able to take it.”

Mom grinned at me and then stuck the bag back under the water filling it as I had requested saying, “Mike, you won’t be able to take a third of it. You are not that big.”

Within seconds, it was brim full. She again held it up for me to inspect. “Satisfied now?”

I replied, “thanks!”

She then reached for the Ivory dishwashing liquid and squirted some into the bag. Then she took the tubing off of the washing machine, clamped the shut-off tight and screwed the tubing into the bag. I knew it wasn’t long now. Then to my surprise, Mom began shaking the bag back and forth. Seeing my expression, she replied, “I don’t want the soap to be too concentrated.”

Finally, she walked over to the wall by the commode and hung the bag up. Almost immediately, a gurgling sound started. It was the water entering the tubing, priming itself for me. Mom sat down on the toilet seat and reached for the Vaseline. I handed it to her. She opened the top and took her finger and pulled out a big old glob of the stuff. My hard on was really showing now but I wasn’t embarrassed any more. Mom just patted her knee and said, “come here my child, lay yourself across here.” I did.

Mom then told me that she was going to put some of the Vaseline onto my little bootie hole so that the nozzle wouldn’t hurt as she put it in. I said, “OK,” and she proceeded. Boy, was that an erotic experience. I pushed back onto her finger as she smeared the stuff onto my crack. This caused her finger to slide up into my rectum. Mom pulled back, then realizing what I was doing, pushed it in clear up to her knuckle, I think. I gasped and then she started rotating it in and out saying, “you like this, don’t you?”

I said, “oh, yes, Mom I do.”

Mom leaned over to my ear and whispered, “well, Mike, I think you are all lubed up. You want me to give you your water now, don’t you?”

I replied, sounding almost faint, “please, I can’t wait to feel it?”

With that, Mom removed her finger from within me and asked me to get up. I did and she got up saying, “just one more thing big boy and I’ll begin, but for right now just stay here, I’ll be right back, I’ve got to get one more thing.”

With that, she left the room only to return within seconds carrying a long, black nozzle. I found out later that that was her own personal douche nozzle.

She pointed it at me and said “I think, judging from your reaction to my finger, you will probably like this bigger nozzle in you better than that tiny slim one that is in the tube now, right?”

I didn’t say anything, but watched as she proceeded to remove the small black tip from the hose and slip the larger douche nozzle in. Completing that task, she again sat back down and I again lay across her lap as before.

I hadn’t even had time to get comfortable when I felt her slide the big nozzle in. “How do you like this big old black nozzle, Mike?”

I looked back at her and said, “I love it.” Sensing my desire, she then began to slowly move the big nozzle in and out of my behind. I again said, “I love that too.”

She laughed and then replied, “you are weird, Mike.” Then she unsnapped the hose sending the warm, soapy enema water up into my behind. I gasped, then nuzzled down onto her knee. It felt great. Mom knew it and she continued to slide the nozzle in and out as the water entered.

“I think I’ve started something here, Mike. I bet you’ll want me to do this sort of thing to you more often, right?”

I replied, “oh, mama, this enema feels so gooooood. You had better.”

Mom looked over to the wall and stared at the bag. “Where are you putting all of this water? It is already half empty.”

I smiled and said, “Mom, I’ve never felt anything so pleasant before.” Then it hit me, a cramp. I told Mom. She told me to relax which I did and then she asked me if I wanted her to stop the water.

I said, “I don’t think so, it’s getting better now.”

With that, I felt her slide her hand between her knee and my stomach. Then she gently began to massage that area. I just lay there in ecstasy taking my water. Then everything stopped. “That’s all, Mike, you’ve taken that entire bag. I would never have believed it if I weren’t here viewing it.”

Now, as you might think, I did not want it to stop, but stop it did. Mom withdrew her hand from under me and then she removed the nozzle also. I got up. Then she got up. My manhood was huge and so was my belly. Mom looked down onto her pants leg and said, “what have you done here?”

I didn’t know what to say. I had never done that before. Mom just grinned and told me to expel my water. I told her, “but, Mom I’m not full. I know that I can take some more water.”

She responded to that request by saying, “that’s all the water I am going to put up in you this time. Now, go and relieve yourself.”

With that, she left the room calling to her mother, “Mom, he took the entire bag, you believe that?”

About a minute or so later, Grandma and Mom both came to the door.

“How are we doing?” Grandma asked.

I said, “just fine, I don’t think I’ve ever crapped so much in my life.”

Mom then said, “Well, that is what I gave you the enema for, wasn’t it?”

I replied, “yes, I guess so.”

Mom said, “you guess so?”

Grandma then spoke, “I hear that you were able to take an entire bag of water, Mike.”

I again spoke saying, “yes, Mam maw, I did and I think that I could have taken even more but Mom wouldn’t give it to me. I asked!”

Grandma looked at her daughter and said, “Mary?”

Then Grandma noticed the douche nozzle. “Mary, what on the earth do you mean sticking that child with that big old douche nozzle? Are you out of your wits?”

I spoke up. “Grandma, Mama got that bigger nozzle cause the little one wouldn’t stay in.”

Grandma questioned, “didn’t it hurt?”

I said, “no mam.”

Then Grandma spoke up, “Mary, I think you probably need to give Mike a couple of plain water enemas now to wash out all of the soap that remains up in him.”

Mom then replied, “Mom, you really think it is needed?”

Grandma answered, “yes, we don’t want him to get burned inside, do we?”

They both looked at me at that point and I replied, “My bootie’s yours.”

With that Mom reached up, took down the enema bag, and handed it to Grandma who began the ordeal of washing out the bag before filling it with water again. I looked at her intently counting the seconds. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she had the bag full again. I smiled at her and she in turn smiled back at me as she attached the red hose to the bulging bag. I smirked a little which prompted this response from Mom, “After I get finished giving you this enema, Mike, I don’t want to find what I found on my leg the last time.”

I said, “Mom! I didn’t do that on purpose.”

With that Mom giggled, grabbed the bulging bag from her Mother and hung the bag beside where I was standing. Again, just like before I heard the gurgling of the water filling the hose. I about exploded with desire.

Mom then sat down on the toilet and patted her lap. I hurriedly lay across her lap and she began the chore of lubricating my bootie hole with Vaseline. I pushed my hips back toward her finger causing it to again slip inside my rectum. I groaned. Then, to my amazement, Mom stuck another finger up into me. I thought what in the world was she doing? She began wiggling both fingers stretching the hole open. Then, I felt her slid the douche pipe between her fingers and up into me and without even withdrawing her fingers. I really groaned as she opened the tube’s shut-off which allowed the enema to begin flowing into me.

I wasn’t in pain, so I smiled and lay content across Mom’s lap as ounce upon ounce of water filled me. Both Mom and Grandma knew that I was in heaven. I tried to breathe normal but to no avail.

Ounce by ounce the water invaded my abdomen and it didn’t take long for this bag to empty. This time, however, to my amazement, Mom wasn’t through. She didn’t pull the big black nozzle out of my rectum. Instead, she just reached up from where she was sitting snapped the shut-off and unhooked the bag. I started to get up, but she put her hand onto my back and pushed me back down. I wondered what the hell is she doing? Then I realized.

Mom unscrewed the tubing from the bag and leaned over and handed Grandma the bag who in turn turned on the water in the sink and began filling the bag again.

Grandma spoke saying, “Mike, I guess you realize now that we’re going to give you a really big enema this time. You will let us know if it starts to hurt, right?”

I said, “I’ll try and take as much as I can.”

Grandma said, “it will do you a lot of good if you do.”

About that time, Grandma had it full again and she proceeded to hand it to Mom. Mom, in turn, screwed the tube into the bottle and as with the other 2 times, she hung it above me. The hose again gurgled and then there was silence except for the snap of Mom opening the shut-off.

Again, the enema water rushed into me. My stomach began to ache with delight again. Mom, like before, placed her loving hand between her leg and my stomach, probing, pushing, uplifting the enema water way up into my intestines. I reached back for Mom’s other hand. She grabbed hold to my grip. I smiled and held onto Mom’s free hand as my enema continued to fill my bloated stomach. A minute or so passed. I was still laying there. Finally, I heard Mom shutting the shut-off again. Then she said, “I can’t believe it, you have taken 2 full bags. Mama! He has taken 2 full bags of water and I think that he might be able to take even more, what do you think?”

Grandma replied, “Where in the world is a little guy like you putting all that water? Are you full?”

I said, “maybe, I don’t know. I am not in any pain.”

Grandma shook her head and said, “I think 2 bags is more than enough right now. We don’t want him to pop, do we? So, just let him up and we will leave him to his business.”

Both Mom and Grandma left the room and boy did I have a super bowel movement. As for Mom, she didn’t come back in to check on me like she did before. So I went into the kitchen where she was and hugged her neck. She patted me on the butt and told me that she now had to get supper cooked for the family and for me to run on. I did.


Several days went by and Mom still had not taken the enema bag down from the wall. I just knew that it was hanging there for a reason. At least I hoped so. I was again beginning to feel a little sluggish and I knew I needed to get Mom’s attention. So, I went into the kitchen where Mom was and told her that I was again having problems going to the bathroom. Mom brushed me off. So, I went to Mam-maw, and told her that I was having problems again going to the bathroom and I had asked Mom to give me another enema and that she just ignored me. I don’t know exactly if I wanted Grandma to do it or not but I do remember asking her to talk with Mom about it.

Days went by, and still I heard nothing. Not even a whisper and the bag just continued to hang where it hung when I emptied it the last time. I was becoming desperate. Friday night came and neither Mom or Grandma said anything. It took me forever to go to sleep. But to my ignorance, things were a changing. The next morning, bright and early, I was awoken by Mom. She told me to come on and I followed her into the back bathroom where I looked up and to my thrill, I noticed that the bag was still there and that it wasn’t empty anymore. For Mom had filled the bag again. This time I was embarrassed, I left the room and hid behind a door in my room. Mom called out, “Mike, if you want me to give you this enema, then come on, I don’t have all day.”

I stayed put. Then Mom called, “If you don’t come now I am going to take this enema down and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Realizing that that was my last chance, I came out and entered the bathroom. Mom told me to take off my underwear because she had other things to do that day. I did and Mom administered the enema to me without even closing a door.

After the enema ended, Mom had me sit onto a slop jar that she had brought into the bathroom earlier. I had no trouble filling it.

Within minutes Mom had once again appeared. She walked over to the jar, looked in and then went over to the wall and took down the bag. She soon began to fill it a second time. I knew then that that day was really going to be special. It was. After I had expelled my second enema, I went and got Mom again. She walked with me back to the bathroom saying all the while, “Children and their enemas, I just don’t understand them.” Her tone sounded angry. but was she? I wondered, what had I done wrong? I don’t guess anything, for she took down the bag a third time and administered yet another enema to my waiting behind, filling it not once but twice in the process. That’s right, she gave me three full bags of water without letting me up.

I truly thought that I had died and gone to heaven.


Guess what Mom gave me for my birthday a couple of weeks later? That’s right, you guessed it, an enema, but guess what she used? A brand new open top, red, Tyson fountain syringe that Grandma had bought me for my birthday at Walgreens. Guess how many bags I took this time? Also, guess where I had Mom store it? That’s close, but no cigar, I kept it hanging besides the washing machine in my bathroom. At least that is where it was when it wasn’t in use. You get my point?