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Subject: Re: Therapy Author: AV [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] Date Posted: Monday, June 10, 2024, 03:10: am In reply to: AV 's message, "Therapy" on Friday, June 07, 2024, 08:28: am One thing I vividly remember is what was going through my mind as I waited for the second bulb and the feel of the bulb tip. I knew i was going to have to take the second bulb so i knew i had to relax but not enough to release. When I would say, “hurry up I gotta I gotta go,” mom would say, “you better hold it! You better hold it, you better not release it.” I would next feel the tip. The first bulb coated me pretty good so there was no stopping it. The tip entered easily. Mom squeezed and I would feel the warm solution as it entered and agitated my bowels even more. I was ready to go so bad but mom would for a few more seconds let me lay. I would say, “let me up, i gotta go! I gotta go!” Mom would let me up, stand up, lift the lid, and go stand the sink and start cleaning up. Here is what is so strange thinking back, I would always fight the urges and hold until the urges would stop, no different now as I am sitting on the toilet. I was still fighting the urges plus concerned about the pain. Clearly the enema was working on me. I still was trying to win this enema war. I thought in my child’s mind, i would release just a little solution out and that would help with the urges. The BM was making its way and i did not want it to hurt. As I relaxed a little to let some solution out, it was coating me as well. The urge got stronger and the next minute, the baseball bat came flooding out as my legs lifted in reaction and I gripped the side of the toilet and lifted myself up. It was quick. Mom was running water and cleaning the bulb. She would look at me and say, “That wasn’t so bad was it?” [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

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[> Subject: Re: Therapy Author: AV [ Edit | View ] Date Posted: Tuesday, June 11, 2024, 04:49: am Majority of my enemas given were due to pooping in my pants and stained underwear. Yes, i did receive enemas for getting caught straining and having a grumpy attitude. Most of the time, if I stained my underwear, I knew an enema was coming as I dropped them in the dirty clothes basket. Later that evening, i would walk by the bathroom and mom would be standing at the sink washing my underwear in the sink. After a lecture, she would say, “after I finish washing these out, im washing you out.” Prior to giving me an enema after my evening bath, enemas were immediate. She would tell me to come into the bathroom as she was washing my underwear and tell me to sit and try to go, which I would try. She would soon leave and I would hear water running through the walls from the kitchen and knew what was coming. Soon mom would return with the bulb ready and a jar of solution and get an enema. I had to be very sneaky when it came to not getting caught straining. I would even go into the bathroom, lock the door, and even sit on the floor next to the toilet, yes, on the floor, not on the toilet. I would fight the urges. I would usually sit with my legs crossed or even with one leg under me pressing down do an accident would not happen. After the urges would pass, i would even flush the toilet, wash my hands, and leave. I didn’t want anyone asking questions so after I went to the bathroom even a couple of times, I had to find a way to fight the urges without looking obvious. Never worked. I would end up red faced and trying not to look like i was straining but mom knew. She would send me to the bathroom and here we go, i would hear water running. Sometimes however, she would wait until after my evening bath and as she would come in with the bulb and say something like, “you didn’t think anyone noticed you straining today did you? Well, i did.” Well, as i sit on the toilet, there was no denying it. Afterwards, as she was cleaning up at the sink, and I was fighting and losing the battle with the enema doing its work on me as I emptied on the toilet, let there be a dirty underwear in the basket, and mom decide to look and find one. She would stop cleaning up the bulb and start cleaning the dirty underwear, and look at me and say those words, “after I clean your underwear, I’m cleaning you out once again.” Those moments were all about principle, all about routine, all about letting me know she was in control and I wasn’t. No amount of begging, crying, explaining I was already cleaned out and empty, she was going to make sure. The jar still had solution in it and she would simply squeeze and dip the tip and refill the bulb. My stomach afterwards felt empty for sure. [ Post a Reply to This Message ]