Bulb Flash Backs

I was looking through the JPG images and came across one of a woman holding a large red squeeze bulb with a larger than normal nozzle. I know that the woman was about to use it on herself; having seen the rest of the pictures that came as a set, even so I wanted to imagine that she had set her sights on me. I closed my eyes and instantly I was a boy again.

“Mommy, oh mommy please; not an enema.” I pleaded as she placed the business end into a bucket that she had filled warm water. She would have me sit on the edge of the tub while the water ran across the bar of soap until it was ‘just right’. Then she would tell me all over again how important it was to have regular bowel movements and that it was for my own good.

With tears running down my face she would have me lower my pants and lay across her lap as if to show her my respect. The act of getting into the proper position was important; her hand needed to be able to hold me down should I begin to squirm. She would put a large amount of petroleum jelly onto the tip and wipe the rest directly on my anus. All I could do was look at the light tan colored tile floor while she pushed the enema nozzle into me. It wasn’t as large as the one the woman had in the picture; but it was over whelming all the same considering my young age. When the water had been pushed into me she would refill the bulb. The gurgle of soapy water being sucked into the empty bulb only served to make me cry even more.

“Only two or three more and you will be allowed to sit on the toilet. You are doing such a good job.” Her voice was soft and gentle unless I tried to cover up with my hands.

“Put those hands down or you will get a spanking to remember!” A slap on the rump and my hands would fall to the side. I would feel her hand as it separated my cheeks and the tip would slide back inside of me. She would wait a moment to make sure that I was not going to try and wiggle out prior to squeezing the solution out of the bulb.

Once I managed to slip out of her grasp at the same moment that she was squeezed. The water splashed in between my legs and then immediately onto her long cotton dress. I thought she would yell at me; instead, there was only a look from her that could only be understood at the basic human level. If interpreted correctly it would have sounded something like, “Young man, that was your first mistake. If you do not return to the proper position within half of a slit second or sooner you will not live to see another sunrise.”

“I’m sorry Mommy.” My voice escaped fearfully as I climbed back onto her lap in the hope of reconciliation.

“That will not help save you from getting your treatment. Now how many bulbs full was that? I have lost count. Was that two or three?” She asked while the bulb gurgled in the bowl for another refill.

“That was four.” I blurted out while attempting to correct her memory; not knowing that she knew quite well the progress of the treatment.

“Well, just to be sure I’d better add at least one more after this one. That way it will serve as a reminder to young boys who think they can wiggle out from under me. What do you think? Will that be enough?”

The idea of taking on more of the soapy solution had my head shaking already. I was squirming on her lap, not to get away this time; but as a reaction to the energies that were going on inside of me.

“No more Mommy, no more please.” The tip of the enema sucked up the last of the solution and I knew that it would be over with soon. I tried to relax as the last of it was going into me, breathing in small shallow gulps while she held the nozzle there in me for what seemed to be forever. When it slid out she made sure to hold my waist so that I could not run to the toilet. Instead, I had to lay there and count to a hundred. I think back now and it was to make sure that I was doing my homework more than a need to hold the enema any longer.

“That should be long enough. You may go sit on the toilet. Make sure you get it all out.” She would smile at me as if I had done something very well. I didn’t know it at the time; but, that was the beginning of my love for enemas.

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