Colonic Introduction

It was 1940, WWII was in full swing and at age three I had just been placed in a Children’s Home. My mother and father had just divorced and my mother was too sick to take care of me. I remember that day very well even though it was very long ago. I thought I would be there just a week, not knowing that I would be spending the next ten years of my life in the place that would strongly influence my destiny. The home was located on the East Coast and consisted of several Victorian buildings and houses, which at one time had been part of a large estate. The Victorian architecture of those buildings had minimal influence on my present taste, with one exception, the bathrooms. At the time they were spacious and tall ceilinged, with tile floors, big bathtubs, deep sinks and plenty of room to do other things besides ridding one’s self of waste and external bathing. Life there was all right, but at times very lonely. For a child that is lonely there are a lot of fantasies, dreams and secret discoveries.

Four years passed and they are all but forgotten. They were years of growing and discovery but, nonetheless, still uneventful. Then came 1944, and with it many new experiences which changed me into a totally different and unique being, and cast me into a class of humans who have a special ritual of sexual pleasure. As I grew up I learned that this ritual has remained obscure and personal, its pleasures being shared mostly by one, two, or at the most, three people. So this is where my story really begins as far as I am concerned.

When I was six I had a dream. One that I have yet to truly understand. One that fascinates me and also may fascinate you. There was a round swimming pool at the home and I dreamed about it one night. In that dream I found out that I was suspended under the warm water and my body was encased from head to toe in a skintight rubber suit. It had no opening other than one in the rear through which a red rubber hose entered my rectum, passing deep into my bowels. Even though the rubber tightly encased my face I had no need to breath and felt very secure floating there in limbo tethered only by the rubber hose, and neither rising to the surface nor sinking down to the bottom of the pool. Through the rubber hose that came from the surface shot jets of warm water, filling my insides and turning me into a big balloon. It was a very erotic dream that I never revealed to anyone. When I think of it now, I feel it was a dream predicting the future.

One night about a year later I had an asthma attack and was taken to the small twelve bed hospital which was located at the end of the east wing on the rather deserted second floor of the main building. This little infirmary somehow seemed isolated from the rest of the building because no one resided there, the rooms being used for storage. Because of this feature the hospital seemed to be in a world of it’s own, and rather completely self-sufficient. I was the only patient there. Mrs. Van Dorin, the nurse, was a very beautiful woman of Dutch nationality. She spoke good English, but with a very obvious accent, which fascinated me.

Mrs. Van Dorin had been separated from her family at the beginning of the war, being forced to remain in the States. She had been working at the home infirmary for over a year. The first night I was in the hospital she cured me with a shot of adrenaline. The next day, when I thought I would have to leave, she told me that I would be staying for at least a week. It was great news because I liked her and the hospital, which I found to be different and much more pleasurable than the rest of the home. So the first day at the hospital was a day of getting to know the beautiful nurse who would help me discover new pleasures.

The second day was different however, starting out with a rather powerful laxative of Milk of Magnesia and Cascara, which is commonly called a black and white. It sure did its job. By noon I was as empty as could be. During the initial part of the afternoon my beautiful nurse spent her time in the rather large hospital bathroom, and the sounds coming from there gave me the impression that she was preparing something. That bathroom was unusual in that it contained a pleasant odor, which I discovered the first day I was there. I was unable to identify the odor, which lingered there very strong, but I liked it and would learn to love it forever.

As I sat in my bed listening to the noises, I wondered what she was doing. I found out soon enough when she came out wearing a rubber apron and told me to take off my pajamas while she stood there watching me. I obeyed without question, and without saying another word, she took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom. Being completely naked, I felt very small and embarrassed, a feeling that increased when I saw what awaited me behind the bathroom door. As my eyes perceived the various objects in the room I realized again the presence of the odor, which seemed much stronger. It emanated from the rubber apron she wore, the rubber sheet on the canvas bathtub cover and the rubber enema bag, filled so full, hanging high above on the stand. Somehow I knew what was about to take place, even though I had never, as far as I could recall, experienced it before. I knew that this beautiful dominant nurse was going to do what she wanted to me, and I knew that protesting would be a rather pointless gesture. But I wouldn’t protest anyhow because deep inside I really wanted it to happen. I am sure she sensed my feelings as she told me how she was going to wash my tummy out from the inside, and how my tummy would get big and full and how it would feel good.

At her command I lay down on the heavy canvas sheet which was stretched tight over the rim of the large bathtub, and as I lay there looking up at her, I again experienced a feeling of helplessness. It never ceases to amaze me how that feeling evokes a sexual response in me even when just thinking about it. The next thing I knew she was forcing me into a jack-knife position, which caused my rear end to be elevated. She then bound my feet and ankles together with a roll of gauze and it looked as if I had one big sock on. She then took the roll of gauze and looped it around my ankles, ran it like a piece of rope to a wall hook and tightened it up until my legs were suspended above my body. Greasing me up with a gob of Vaseline, she inserted a rather large rectal tube.

Needless to say, it felt good and caused my penis to get very hard very quickly, increasing my embarrassment and bringing a smile to her beautiful face. The quietness was broken by the sharp click of the shut-off clamp and warm soapy water flowing rapidly through the rubber hose into me from that big bag hanging so very high above, causing another pleasurable sensation. My head was spinning and I don’t remember seeing her putting Vaseline on my penis. My breathing was very fast, but it all seemed to be in slow motion. Her lips were moving, she was telling me to relax, over and over she repeated that word. The soapy warm water was rushing into me, flooding my insides and making my tummy bigger and bigger. I could see that big red rubber enema bag getting smaller and smaller and I could feel the delicious pleasure of my tummy turning into a balloon while my slippery hard penis slid back and forth in her ever faster moving hand. My penis was squirting, my body was in spasm, I was crying out. I was going limp all over and she was kissing me and saying, “Sweet baby.”

That experience left me so weak that she had to help me to the toilet, leaving the rectal tube in me and taping my cheeks together to help me hold it in. My tummy was so big and heavy that when she removed the tape all that soapy water and everything came out of me with a thunderous roar. When I was empty again she put me back to bed and I was so comfortably exhausted that I slept for the rest of the evening. While I dozed in and out of a semi-sleep, she sat beside my bed reading. And when I woke up for a while she explained what I had experienced and told me that I would get one enema every day. She kept this promise, and it was probably one of the most memorable weeks of my younger life.

I was under Mrs. Van Dorin’s care many times before she left the home and on each occasion I received a pleasurable inside wash. On two occasions I received what is known as a colonic irrigation, prior to the big enema. In a colonic irrigation, water is pumped in and then left to flow back out through the same tube, or double tube. This is repeated over and over and each time the colon is stretched a little larger. The net result is that when the high colonic enema is given it can be much larger than if this is not done.

In 1945 Mrs. Van Dorin left to return to Holland and that was a painful loss for me. I never did see or hear from her again and have wondered so many times what happened to the beautiful, dominant Dutch nurse who introduced the quiet, young, shy boy to the pleasures of being subjected to the enema. As you will see, this was not the end, but the beginning, and if one believes in destiny, then mine was to be dominated by women who have it in their minds to frequently change my body size and shape by injecting into me the fluid that comes from the large rubber bag.

Soon after Mrs. Van Dorin left I was transferred to the main building from one of the cottages. Here I was under the supervision of Miss Viola. She was blonde, harsh, and again, beautiful, eliciting immediate response to an action by the loud snap of her fingers. We all took an evening shower in the basement of a four story building and would go down in our bathrobes with Miss Viola; but when we disrobed we were nude and she had a bathing suit and rubber bathing cap on. I always have pleasure in seeing nude women with bathing caps (often a practice in nudist camps) and no doubt this pleasure can be traced to Miss Viola, who further encouraged my fondness for the pleasures of the enema. Raymond, a 15 year old in the group, was very well hung for his age, almost to the point of being a medical curiosity, and even though I was only eight I understood that there was some sexual connection and wondered how Miss Viola felt about it.

One night I had an asthma attack which carried on into the morning resulting in my being forced to remain in bed while the others went to school. Soon I was alone in the large dormitory wondering if I was just to lay there alone all day. What I didn’t know was that Miss Viola had contacted the new nurse and together they had made plans for my treatment. Of course you can guess what the treatment was, but I could never figure out the connection between lung ailments and a good cleansing of the colon. Anyhow, I guess the enema was a good cure for about anything in those days. Shortly I was visited by the new nurse, Mrs. Dickenson, who was in her 50’s. She was a matronly woman with large breasts and classically wore her hair in a tight bun. She examined me quickly and joined Miss Viola in the bathroom down the hall from the dormitory. Soon I heard the already familiar sound of water running into a container, which clued me in on what was about to take place. The contemplation of my fate, and knowing that I would be asked to strip naked and comply with their wishes excited me immensely.

Very soon Miss Viola appeared at the door down at the end of the dorm and asked me to come into the bathroom. It was a long walk and one containing much anticipation. As I walked through the door I saw a familiar sight. There hung the big red rubber enema bag that had filled me full many times before. Very quickly I found myself on the window seat looking up at the enema bag full of warm soapy water.

The nurse inserted the rectal tube as Miss Viola, with a smile on her stern face, held me by the ankles, exposing my rear to the nurse. My erection quickly returned and was easily noticed by both women. I was very embarrassed and my face must have been beet red. I remember the raised eyebrow look I got from Miss Viola, a look that said, “Well, what do we have here, a boy excited by enemas?” Somehow she understood my expression, which was one of mixed fear and embarrassment. The nurse was talking, but I was aware only of the sound. My eyes were fixed on Miss Viola and I couldn’t look away. The soapy water was running in, my tummy was swelling, my breathing was becoming rapid and my penis was throbbing, but still I couldn’t take my eyes away. Her expression turned to one of satisfaction. She knew, and she knew I knew. I was so full I thought I would explode. Then it was all in me and the nurse taped my cheeks together, telling Miss Viola she wanted me to hold it while she drew a hot bath. So, there I lay in a jack-knife position with my tummy all swollen, my ankles held together in the vise like grip of Miss Viola’s strong hand. After I voided, Miss Viola set me in the bath. The tub water was very hot, making me very relaxed. After my bath, I slept most of the day.

Several months later I brought home a report card with some tardy marks on it. I wasn’t the only one who had a bad card, but I was the only one who didn’t get whipped for the misdeed. After the other boys were punished they were allowed to go out and play, while I had to scrub Miss Viola’s private bathroom floor. I was surprised to see a big enema bag hanging by the bathtub and just happened to be sitting on my ankles looking at it when all of a sudden she was there. How long she had been in the door way I don’t know, but she sure saw me looking, and told me that maybe I wouldn’t like it so much if I got enough of it. Quickly my mind flashed back to the previous enema and her smile. It was the same smile as before and she ordered me to strip and lay down in the bathtub.

The enema was very hot and she filled me until I began to howl. I thought my belly was going to split and I had wicked cramps. This delighted her to no end and even though I was very uncomfortable, I still had a very hard erection. This she quickly took care of with some Vaseline. After I came, the cramps returned much stronger and it was all I could do to keep from expelling the enema on the spot.

After I was empty she took off the bathrobe she was wearing and sat naked on the edge of a chair instructing me to get between her legs and lick. I hadn’t ever seen a naked woman before and even though it was exciting, I was scared and timid, which displeased her. Before I knew what had happened she had my face shoved between her legs and I was licking my jaws off. I apparently did it right, because her body suddenly went limp with some deep moans. After it was over she told me that if I ever uttered a word of what had happened she would beat me half to death. From that time on for the next two years I was frequently punished, even for some of the most minor infractions. The punishment was always the same and I loved it every time. So, before I had even reached the age of puberty I had learned to sexually satisfy a woman as well as myself. The concept of being enemaed was fully accepted and deeply entrenched in my mind as the number one way to experience sexual pleasure.

The next three years I spent in a cottage with a very obese and ugly dispositioned housemother. During that time the only enemas I received were ones that I would give myself while spending holidays at my aunt and uncle’s home. I had discovered the enema bag in her linen closet and I used to spend considerable time in the bathroom. I am sure they wondered what was going on. I think my aunt knew, but she never indicated it.

On one Easter vacation I wasn’t feeling well, and probably had the flu, which brought on a stomach ache. When I told my aunt about it, she told me that a good enema would make me feel better. I certainly hadn’t expected that, although I did like the idea. I had always had a sexual attraction for my aunt, who was a big woman, but beautiful just the same. I had always wanted to get an enema from her but never dreamed it would happen. After my cousins left the house she gave me the enema, using a bench that was the same height as the toilet. She made me sit on the toilet backwards and then lie back on the bench. It is rather interesting that I was always made to lie on my back for enemas, rather than on my side the way they are given in hospitals. Now, I prefer it that way. Aunt Lynn gave me a very sexy enema, giving me the right amount at the right time. Of course, I had an erection, which evoked embarrassment. She looked at it, but acted as if it didn’t exist, filling me to my eyeballs.

I mentioned before how I always received enemas on my back with my legs in the air, another thing that always happened was that I was always given large amounts. I read where a woman said she had received one-quart enemas. I don’t believe I ever received less than two quarts, and often more. I recall many times when the bag was refilled. Presently I can hold four quarts without much discomfort. After the enema was over Aunt Lynn made me go to bed. Thinking about what had happened made me so excited that I masturbated to a climax twice.

At the end of three years I left the children’s home to live with my grandparents who were in their 60’s. After a few days of settling in I discovered, much to my pleasure, a large cardboard box containing two good sized enema bags and a hand pump with tubes, plus a large variety of unusual nozzles. I knew that this was a very large amount of gear for anyone to have unless it is being used for sexual pleasure, but from the way it was stored away I’m sure it hadn’t been used in quite a number of years and I will always wonder why.

During my stay at this house all through high school, I used this equipment and gave myself frequent enemas. These were the years of experimentation, and there were some wild experiments: Enemas while laying in a tub of warm water; enemas in every conceivable position; enemas with warm, hot, cold and soapy water. I became very efficient at it, but the big thing I always missed was the woman and it just wasn’t the same. By this time I had learned that you don’t tell just anybody about enemas without being made fun of. I began dating around age 16 and began having intercourse with Jean, whom I dated regularly for a year. During that time we tried many things and I felt I could tell her about my attraction for receiving enemas. But when I did she became cold and impersonal. Considering we had tried cunnilingus, analingus, fellatio and intercourse, I found it difficult to understand and still do to this day. Jean refused to discuss this change and we broke off dating very soon thereafter.

This happening caused me to have feelings of inadequacy, especially after she started dating one of my rivals on the football team. Then the attitudes of various schoolmates began to change. There were smiles and smirks and jokes. I had no idea of what was going on until one day after football practice when Kent accused me of being queer and of liking to get hosed. At the same time he pushed me backwards over a bench. I had always kept myself in good physical shape, and had learned to fight early in life. When you grow up in a home like the one I was in you either fight and gain respect or you get squashed. Anyhow, Kent had made his big mistake. Before they could stop me I had broken his nose and jaw putting him cold on the floor. Needless to say, I was suspended from school for a week and Kent’s parents threatened to sue my grandparents, but there were enough people to prove he had started the whole mess.

The next day Peggy, a girl I’d met through Joan, called and told me the whole story. Jean had told not only Kent, but all of the girls in the school. At this point I wanted to jump off a train trestle, but Peggy assured me that my confrontation with Kent had made me a sort of hero and legend. That weekend I dated Peggy and discovered a rather beautiful young woman. She convinced me that I could go back to school and not be embarrassed. One thing that tickled me is that Kent and I were both quarterbacks for the team and with both of us out the team got smeared in a Saturday night game.

Peggy and I dated regularly. One evening about a month after we started going together she blurted out that when she had heard the story about me liking enemas she had gotten excited. She told me that she was also attracted to enemas for some unknown reason and had given herself many, but she would rather give them to someone else. Peggy’s parents had plenty of money and were gone often on the weekends, leaving Peggy alone. For the next three months Peggy gave me enemas in their very elaborately decorated main bathroom. We experimented together and sometimes she wore bras, girdles, garterbelts and stockings. One time she even wore her mother’s long leather gloves and black spiked heels. She tried all kinds of liquids in me, even milk. And one time she even hooked the hose from the hair washing apparatus in the bathtub and gave me an enema with it while I lay in the tub. The water felt good going in fast, but it was all over too soon.

We also started experimenting with bondage and she would securely tie my hands and arms, gagging and taping my mouth. It was on one of these occasions that we got the biggest shock of our lives when her mother and father quietly walked in on us. There I was, bound and gagged on my back, on her mother’s footstool with over two quarts of soapy water in me when her mother came through the door. There was a horrified scream and she almost fainted. Her dad was next, almost repeating the performance. What could we do?

Peggy locked them out and helped me up. Peggy’s father was pounding on the door and her mother was crying, “What has he done to my daughter?” If it wasn’t for the fact that the bathroom window was three stories up, I would have gone out of it. Peggy bargained with them to get me out of the house. There was one brief kiss and that was the last time I ever saw her. She was immediately sent to a private school in California. When I recall the scene I can only laugh and think about how scared we both were at the time. I still have a picture of her and I wonder who is getting the enemas now.

After high school I went to college and then into the service, Medical Corp. While stationed out West I met my wife. She is a beautiful woman with long dark hair and dominant features. When we first met she knew nothing about enemas, but I finally told her after about a year. She couldn’t understand how it could evoke a sexual response, but was willing to try giving them to me. She had a nurse friend and borrowed some textbooks from her and studied them. She also quizzed me about everything I ever knew about enemas and one night when I went to her room she was in a housecoat and nylons and spiked heels. She had bought a three-quart enema bag that looked like a pumpkin when filled, and there it was, completely full hanging in the bathroom. She made me undress and taped my mouth shut telling me that if she was going to give me enemas, she was going to be in full control. She also bound my hands with nylons. For her first attempt, it was fantastic. She was so sexually worked up that after it was all over she made me get down and lick her beautiful num num.

That was 14 years ago and it keeps getting better and better. She wears high-heeled boots now and many other outfits, including many girdles. She designed a special bench which tilts me so that I am almost standing on my head when receiving enemas. Just as I like receiving large volume enemas, she also loves giving them and discovered that with my body tilted head down at a 60-degree angle I can hold much more than when lying in a flat position. She also binds me rather elaborately but quickly in a short straight jacket and rubber half face mask with an inflatable balloon in my mouth. She also uses a double balloon enema catheter, and when positioned this way all I can do is lay there helpless, almost on my head, taking it (all of it).

And that is just what I want to do, forever and ever.