Ruggerman's Treatment


The coach called out all the freshmen ruggers on the ground on one day in September, when Joshua and I had just come out of the male rocker room to join the practice. The freshmen were not allowed to use the club room for changing clothes, even neither to wear rugger jersey nor rugger shorts but plain white T-shirts and white running trunks for the basic training to develop our physical strength for the first six months. Since our coach, at the age of 36, was one of the most strict staffs in college, seven of us quickly formed a row in front of him.

“O.K. boys. I have just got allotments for ‘Sports Physical’ in the college health center,” the coach started. “Two boys take an exam a day from this afternoon. You know, I have to report the results to the president office by the end of the month. Then you, boys will become real members of the team.” he explained, giving punches to the bunch of documents he was grabbing by the other hand, which was one of his habits.

“You boys prepare a fresh T-shirts and shorts, clean ones, for the physical on your day since you can’t go there in sweaty gear. O.K.?” He went on, “today, you, Brad, go at three and you, Josh at four because all the others are already dirty. Tomorrow, Alex at three and Kurt at four…Mike at three, then I’ll take the last one for my own on Tuesday,” he announced each boy’s turn and his own promptly “O.K. That’s all. Thank you,” he broke up the meeting. “Thank you, sir.” We responded in unison.

“Eh…Josh, you go to the club room and clean up the messy place for a while then come to my office at three. You, Brad come with me now. There is something to be done in the office.” The coach ordered to each of us quickly. When I followed the coach to the office, Ryan, a junior boy, who was still doing some stretching near by on the ground, whistled to us. The coach just frowned at him but didn’t say anything. I had no idea what it was.

In the office, the coach handed me a set of the paper and told me to fill it up at his desk. The office was shared with soccer club staffs but we were alone at the time. Then he disappeared into the connecting room, a dispensary. I filled up the form on the first page then I started answering many questions about my health and behavior from the next page. In five minutes, he came back and asked me if there was any difficult word to understand. When I said ‘no’, he told me to come to the dispensary for the ‘preparation’ after the completion. I busied myself with the paper work so I just said ‘yes, sir’ but didn’t think twice of the ‘preparation’.

In ten minutes, I had done all, so I marched to the dispensary entrance. “Coach, I’ve just done all, sir.” I spoke to the coach. “Come in, Brad. Close the door then take off your shoes, shirts and shorts.” That was the order I didn’t expect. “Why? Will a doctor come here to check me up?” I wanted to asked him but I didn’t. “Come on, Brad! You are not a shy boy, are you?” He teased me. “No, sir.” I replied immediately. “Good. The rugger man can’t be shy as you know,” he commented.

That was true. It Is a ruggerman’s custom to take a bath together with the opponent team members after the match from the college level. Anyway I knew I was really shy in nature but I always behaved like “a tough guy,” especially in front of the other jocks.

“Be quick, Brad, and come to stand by the table with your arms folded,” he hurried me. “Yes, sir.” I said taking them off quickly. After I put my gear in a basket near the door, I proceeded to the table and did what I had been told, wearing only a white supporting brief and white socks. On the table, I saw a small pillow on an end and a large black rubber mat covering the other half.

“A doctor will examine your genital organs carefully. You can take the exam without hesitance, right?” “Yes, sir.” I said matter-of-factly but my face must have become red. Without word, the coach pulled down the tight brief to the mid-tights. Of course, I felt my cheeks turned darker. “Have you ever had a ring worm, I mean, the crotch itch before?” He asked, keeping eyes on my limp dick and ball sack. “Never, sir.” “You may catch it in the future, but in that case, you should report to me immediately. Otherwise, it spreads out to everybody. You know, we have to play a game with scratching the crotch all the time, then we have to lose.” He said jokingly. “I will, sir,” I replied seriously.

“O.K. Brad. I give you a bowel cleansing now. Get out of the supporter and socks, then kneel down on the table,” the coach declared, fetching a metal stand which held a large glass bottle on each arm. The bottles had a coiled clear plastic tube dangling from the bottom.

I could not believe that scene, which simply meant I had to receive an ENEMA! No, no, no! I blushed worse than ever. I hated enemas ever since I had taken one in my childhood. “Coach, I had a bowel movement this morning, so I’m not constipated at all, sir.” I managed to claim. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, Brad. All the examinees must have his guts cleaned out since a doctor will check up boy’s rectum, too,” he explained, starting to fill a large glass jug with hot water already. Then I noticed Ryan’s whistle must have meant this. He knew I should take an enema. The thought embarrassed me worse.

Anyway I had no choice. I took them off and got on the table. I could see what the coach is doing in a large mirror on the wall. “Have you ever taken a soap suds enema before, Brad?” he asked me, taking out a small plastic package, whose size was a ketchup package for french fries at first food shops, from a white glass fronted cup board next to the sink. “I received it many times in my boyhood, sir.” I said on the table. “When did you take the last one?” He asked, looking at me in the mirror. “Eh…I received one in a clinic last year when I had a high fever, sir.” Then I added, “It was so humiliating, since I was not a kid anymore, sir.”

“Oh, no, Brad. Don’t misunderstand about enemas. This is not a treatment only for kids but also for full grown men. Especially sportsmen need it occasionally, you know? Wrestlers and athletes have to take it often to control themselves. We call this soapy enema ‘Ruggerman’s treatment.’ I give this to my rugger boy whenever I think he needs one. When I find a lazy boy or a hung-over boy on the ground, I administer a very severe one to him immediately,” he explained seriously as he tore the package and deluted the colorless liquid in the jug. I was dreadful to see the whole water in the jug turned into milky white. That was what I would have to take soon…from my rear end.

After he poured the solution into one of glass bottles, he uncoiled the tube and connected a white small cock-shaped nozzle to the end of it, then grabbed the nozzle toward to the sink and released a clamp on the tube once. The liquid just gushed out of the tip into the sink. The sight just worried me, the treatment would be pretty severe.

“O.K. Brad. Spread your knees more apart and push your arse high up in the air,” behind me, the coach ordered, adjusting my body into the right position. Then I was totally exposed all my private parts to him. I heard the sound of rubber gloves snipped. “Part your cheeks for me, Brad,” he ordered. I closed the eyes and spread the ass cheeks by both hands. “Oh, Brad. Some hair begins to bud around the hole. You have to shave it again.”

On the very first meeting with the coach, we were told to shave anal area to keep the place and supporting briefs clean. I did that on the day. “O.K. I will stick a worm test sheet over your hole, at first. Never pull back your arse,” he informed me. In the mirror, I saw him peeling a wide clear adhesive tape out of a small plastic plate slowly. Then it was stuck over the hole. He pressed the tape strongly against my asterisk of the hole. I thought his finger would slip inside my ass with the tape. Then he peeled it off the crack suddenly, which left me a strange sensation. He put it back on the plate. “You know, if one of you has a worm in stomach, it will be prevalent in the team since we always wear short pants,” he explained. “Take this test sheet with the paper to the center,” he added, sliding the plate in an envelope with my full name written.

“Now time for a ‘Ruggerman’s Treatment’, Brad.” “Yes, sir,” I reluctantly replied. He touched the glass bottle surface by a palm. “Now the right temperature to administer.” I saw him dipping the white nozzle in a jelly pot. “Why don’t you ask your coach for a good bowel cleansing, Brad.” “Eh…please cleanse my bowel, Coach.” “Why do you need the treatment?” “I would like to be a rugby club member and each ruggerman is required ‘Sports Physical.’ We must be cleaned out before the exam, sir.” “Good. You understood the situation pretty well,” he said pushing the nozzle on the spot. “Here it is.” The greasy nozzle popped easily in me and a clicking sound followed.

Soon I felt warm water flowing into my guts but my dick standing erect. He told me to open the mouth widely and relax my colon. So I did. “This one may be larger than what you had last year, since you are college ruggerman now. Take it like a real ruggerman!” While the flow continued, I saw him holding the nozzle by a hand in the mirror. As my stomach was bloated gradually, the discomfort hit me soon.

“Now you took one-third. Let’s finish the rest a bit faster since you don’t seem to have a cramp in the belly. Hold this nozzle.” He announced moving the stand’s arm a bit higher. “Oh,” I squirmed in feeling the flow coming in me powerfully. “Take it all! You should take it like a man, Brad,” he cheered. Almost at the same time, there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” To my surprise, the coach yelled.

The door was opened, here did appear an assistant coach of the soccer club, whom I sometimes saw on the ground. He was a young, 26 or 27, good-looking man. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said trying to back out, after glancing at me on the table. He must have quickly understood what was going on. My face was deep in fire. “Don’t worry. My boy is tough. Come here, Marty. You have to send your boys to the center, right?” “Eh…yes, since my boss went to the college association football conference today…” he said coming to the side of the table I was kneeling down on.

“How many boys a day?” My coach asked him rubbing my back. “Three a day but only two this afternoon. Three-thirty and four-thirty.” “Did you choose boys for today’s?” “Yes, actually one boy is filling up the paper at my desk now.” “So you have to prepare him for the Physical.” “Yes, but I’ve just heard of the event at the meeting in the center, Coach Allen.” “Oh, since we have our own dispensary, we have to do ‘preparation’ by our own hands. So does the athletic club. You know, they always complain that the center is understaffed,” my coach explained. “I see.” I heard the gurgling sound behind, which informed us I took all.

“Good. You took all like a man. Now tighten your hole, Brad,” he directed. He pulled out the nozzle all at once. I knew a bit of the mess leaked along with the withdrawal but it seemed the coach caught it in a paper towel then wrapped the nozzle with it. He quickly pressed some toilet tissue over my hole next. “Now you have to hold the solution in you, at least for ten minutes, without any leaking, Brad. I know it’s uncomfortable but it’s a part of ‘ruggerman’s treatment’ to get the maximum result. Now hold it like a ruggerman!” He ordered me glancing at his wrist watch.

I just felt faint to hear that. As my belly started making a strange noise, the discomfort was getting worse. “Good. The solution is working right in your stomach, Brad.” My coach commented. I kept the position, pressing the paper on my hole by a hand. I felt as if the solution had run around whole my intestines.

“Marty,” he went back to the talk, “it’s not complicated, you know. Strip him down and stick a worm tester on his anus, then give him a good enema and force him to hold it like this. That’s all.” I really hated the last part. “But my boys are not so obedient like yours, especially to me, Coach Allen,” Marty reminded my coach. “In that case, you can show him a paddle. Or you can just tell if he prefers taking one by a female nurse in the health center, instead. All the boys will choose YOUR treatment, you know,” he asserted.

“But, Coach Allen, I have never given an enema to the others before.” “Really? But you have received them before, right?” “Oh, well…yes…eh…the captain in college team gave me some…” When I looked up, I could see his handsome face blushing very badly.

“So, no problem. We have bowel cleansing kits here, it’s easier to use, you know.” My coach said fetching a video tape-sized cardboard box from a shelf. Marty received it and stared at directions on the back of the box. Then he slipped out a folded greenish plastic bag with a thin coiled tube with a cap at the end. “You know, Marty. In my college days, three or four boys received a cleansing dose together, kneeling down in a row in the club room. A disposable bag like this was not available but the large red rubber bags were used at that time. An assistant coach was busy with making solution with a bar soap and refilling the bags with it.” “Really? I believe you were embarrassed extremely.” “Only at the first time, you know, we soon learned there was nothing to hide in the team. We even took the rectal exam together. The ruggers were very tough at the time…”

“By the way, when do you take your own physical, Marty?” “Eh, I had set up the later one in this afternoon for myself since most boys are sweaty and muddy.” “Oh, well, I’ll help your boy’s preparation, next I have another boy to clean out. Then I will care for yours. Can you give me one in return, next Tuesday?” “…yes, coach Allen.” Marty said disorderly getting even darker. “Deal!” My coach burked. I suspected my coach enjoyed embarrassing a rookie soccer coach. Anyway the enema I received was so powerful that I had been fighting with the strong urge in front of two guys. The discomfort turned into a pain in my stomach.

“Coach, please let me go. It hurts terribly now. Please, sir.” I begged in an emergency. “Oh, Brad, it past eleven minutes already. Well done! Come.” I managed to stand up on my feet and followed him holding the paper ball between the ass cheeks. The coach opened the stall door in a corner of the facility. Here what I found was not a toilet bowl but a latrine. Since it was over my limit, I didn’t have time to complain. I wasted no time to step on foot stones. As soon as I squatted down, I erupted very badly.

“Brad, don’t strain the hole, just leave it to your bowel,” the coach advised. He didn’t close the door but watched my job for a while. I discharged a dark jet after jets with noisy farts with some intervals in between. He warned me not to flush before he checked the result.

While I had a hard time to get rid of all the nasty liquid, I overheard those two talking about how spineless the recent college football players, both of soccer and rugby, were. I thought my coach might mean the fresh soccer coach, too. According to his theory, we don’t only have to train our bodies but also our spirits through the hard practice. For example, the college footballers should not waste time to chase girls or play around, but all they need is just a good masturbation to put out the firing lust. “Don’t you think so, Marty?” My coach asked the young coach. “Oh, well, yeah…yes, WE oh, no, THEY probably need to,” said Marty. I could not help smiling to hear that although my puckered felt a pain in tiredness. I couldn’t see but I firmly believed Marty blushed scarlet again.

“Coach, I think I’m empty, sir.” I called him from the stall. There was a small mountain of mess on the plate. The coach glanced at my result then passed me a wet tissue bottle as Marty went back to the office. Then I was told to pull a chain to flush.

While I was pulling up the shorts, the coach said, “That newbie has to have his cock head peeled out. You know what I mean?” “Yes, Coach. He is a little bit too shy, I think, sir,” I said. “Right and also hasn’t got out of a college boy yet. But I might have teased him too much.” “Yes, you did so hard, sir,” I replied with a smile. “Hey, Brad,” the coach said giving my ass a joking slap over the shorts.

Back in the office, I found a big boy only in shorts still doing paper work with Marty’s advice at desk. The boy looked full of muscle but might lack brain. Anyway I had already known what would happen to him soon. “Brad, in fact, some exams may hurt, but you have to stand on them. Don’t disgrace our team.” “I won’t, sir,” I replied with a bit of fear. “When you are through, come to report it to me. If I’m not in the office, you just knock the dispensary door and wait for me here,” the coach directed. “Yes, I will, sir.” I just wished to come back there in the middle of Coach Marty’s treatment. “Now, you go.” “Thank you, sir,” I said with feeling.

When I was about to leave the office with the document, the coach called me again, “Oh, Brad. Can you do me a favor?” “Yes, sir,” I said looking back. “On the way, can you tell Ryan to come here at five exact?” He asked. “You tell him ‘Coach said Ryan needs some discipline,’ then you can give him a whistle, if you want.” “Yes, sir.” I replied with a big grin. “He’s lazy, I mean, he always comes late without notice recently,” he added.

I just imagined hunky Ryan struggling in discomfort on the table, which brought me a chuckle. I headed for the ground to find him joyfully. But little did I know that more humiliated scene awaited me in the examination room.

Note: This story was based on the real experience of mine but I changed some words to shade off my origin. (You may have already found, even though.) If you have a comment or sports related physical/medical exam. experience, please tell me to prove that we were not only ones.