Author:
Ash to Jamie
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Date Posted: 21:13:13 09/05/09 Sat
Hi Jamie, it sounds like your mom has a slightly different approach to mine! My mom has never used a Fleet enema on me, it's always a bag, and she was and is very gentle and caring while giving me an enema. Your mom sounds a bit too "businesslike" about it compared to mine! We do have some similarities though. As a teenager I did get a fair few enemas because I was misbehaving, and like you I was told that being constipated was causing my bratty behaviour. How does your mom give your enemas, is she gentle and careful or a bit rough?
It might bore you, but the one of these "behaviour/constipation" enemas that most sticks in my mind happened when I was about your age, seventeen. It hadn't been a good few days, I'd had a bad report from school, left my bike out in the rain, refused to take the dog out for a walk (well, it was raining!). That Saturday evening me and my brother fought over the TV and he ended up with several bruises, which I then lied about when Mom confronted me. This was too much, she told me. "Go to your room. NOW!!!" I did. She came up a few minutes later, "Get in the bathroom Ash." I went. She followed and shut the bathroom door, then continued; "I'm not having you behave like this, Ashley. You boys should know better, especially you. You always get like this when you're constipated, so I'm going to make sure you aren't. Get your boots, jeans and underwear off and lie down." She filled the bag with warm water and swirled what looked like a lot of soap into it.
I tried to buy some time, I didn't think I'd enjoy this one. Pretending they were tight I slowly tugged my cowboy boots off, pretended to fumble with my belt, pretended that the zipper on my jeans was stuck. Mom wasn't fooled and didn't calm down. Eventually I resigned myself to it and lay down on my back. Mom Vaselined my butthole and quickly and abruptly slid the nozzle in me, then pushed it firmly all the way in without wiggling it gently like she usually did. A fast flow of soapy water was soon filling me. Then the lecture started. "I'm sick of you behaving badly. I love you, Ash, but sometimes you're a brat and I've had enough of this bratty boy act. Sort yourself out." I started to cramp a bit. Normally Mom gently rubbed my tummy when this happened, this time she roughly massaged it instead and abruptly started the flow again. More lecturing continued - I'd better grow up, wake up and smell the coffee, work harder at school etc. Eventually the bag was empty. No usual tummy-rub while I retained it today, she whipped the nozzle out and left me to it. "Empty yourself and clean your teeth, you've got ten minutes to get your butt to bed." I did. The following morning, there were hugs, apologies and promises from both of us. I never got a bad behaviour clean-out again.
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