I was getting pretty bored sitting on the bench in the corridor outside the nurse’s office, watching the red light that told me that she was busy. Normally, when I got here this early, there was nobody about and I got my enema straightaway.

I considered skipping the whole thing, but I really needed to ace today’s SATs and I wanted to get rid of the build-up of tension and frustration and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed before tackling them - the maelstrom of college application started straight after summer vacation and I really did want a major league college place if only to prove to my father that I could do it.

It might seem strange that a eighteen year old guy was voluntarily taking an enema. It all started when I was fourteen and had been talked into going to boarding school by my dad. This place was his old school, and he attributed a lot of his success to the education he had received here. I was pretty doubtful at first, but he described the place in such glowing terms that I eventually agreed to try it. Much to my surprise, his description had been 100% accurate - it was a good school, the teachers were first class and my fellow students were good guys. The only problem, of course, was an enforced celibacy - at the age where my peer group at home were screwing themselves silly, I was still very much a virgin. That hadn’t seemed so important when I started, but now it was steadily driving me up the wall with frustration. (more…)

Last night before going to sleep, I fantasized a story. This morning, while I was infusing, retaining, and finally evacuating a delightfully warm, two liter enema, I worked the story out in my mind. With the exception of the fact that there was a Social Worker’s Conference in Madison, Wisconsin in 1983, it’s all fiction. I hope you enjoy it.

Pam graduated the University of Wisconsin Madison in 1981 with a Masters in Social Work and took a position with Milwaukee County. In 1983, The State organized a conference at UW Madison in late August after Summer session had finished. The organizers did very well in setting up a complicated five-day program for several hundred attendees. They reserved one large dormitory for double occupancy and contracted cafeteria personnel to serve three meals a day. Campus medical facilities and all other essentials were kept open, as well.

In an effort to encourage people to make new contacts in the field, the organizers set up the room mates; no one got to choose. In fact, the committee took care to put same sex people of different ages and backgrounds together. (more…)

On my trail of enema devotees I unexpectedly came across a small advert in the personal column of a weekly magazine to the effect that the advertiser was willing to ‘give enemas to ladies in their own homes’. As I was keen to get in touch with devotees of the enema I thought an approach to the advertiser might be fruitful.

I was uncertain whether to pretend that I was a woman or whether to write to the advertiser frankly and tell him I would value his co-operation. In the end I decided on the latter course. I told the advertiser (it was not clear from the advert whether it was a man or a woman) of my interest in the enema and anything he could tell me about the replies (if any!) he had had from his/her announcement would be most welcome and would be treated with confidence.

I wrote to the box number given in the magazine and when I had heard nothing for about a fortnight I began to assume that the advertiser was unwilling to help me.

Then, unexpectedly, I got a telephone call from the advertiser. It was a man’s voice and he said he wanted to thank me for my letter and that he would like to meet me. It was arranged that we should meet for dinner at a West End restaurant the following day. (more…)

It was with some reluctance that Linda decided to meet with another man with whom she had met on the internet.  The last man sounded so perfect, so nice. They had corresponded for quite awhile before finally meeting for real. In reality he had turned out to be an overbearing, arrogant jerk.  He had complained about everything, including how dirty her car was.  She had made a special dinner, which he didn’t even bother to eat.  The final insult, was when he had gotten dressed after his football game was over and stated “I’m leaving”.  The entire weekend was a total disaster.  She drove him back to the airport in silence, dropped him off and sped away.  When she had calmed down, she had tried to email him to find out what his problem was. It didn’t surprise her very much when she realized that he would no longer talk to her online, nor would he even answer her email. He had obviously done this before with some other poor fool, and she was just his latest victim. It took a long time to get over her feeling of rejection.

So, she was a little apprehensive as she waited for the arrival of Mike.  She had met him online in an enema chat room.  They had talked for sometime about their shared interests. They didn’t bother exchanging photos of each other. “Look”, he had said, “I’m not tall and handsome, but I’m for real and I’ll treat you with respect even if we find we are not attracted to each other”.  “Well, I’m no Marilyn Monroe either, but  have a sense of humor and if you can get past my rough edges you may just find a diamond”.

Linda answered the door when the buzzer sounded. The man standing before her was in his late forties, with greying hair. Mike had lied after all, for Linda could see that he was indeed tall and handsome. “Hi, I’m Mike” he stated and held out the flowers he had brought. (more…)

“Come with me Lang,” said the guard opening the cell door.  “Why? Where are we going?” said Martha Lang in a timid voice.  Martha had been sentenced to 30 days in the county jail for shoplifting.  It was a stupid thing to do and she knew it the instant she got caught.  It was day 10 of her sentence and today she stayed in her cell rather than work in the jail laundry.

“You can’t pull that sick call routine on me,” said the guard, “You’re going to the infirmary for a full check up.”  Martha hadn’t been feeling well for several days.  The jail food service did not agree with her and she was severely constipated.  “Get moving Lang,” said the guard as she pulled Martha’s arm almost dragging her out of the cell.

As they entered the infirmary the guard called over to the nurse, “Check this lazy bitch out will you?”  “Glad to,” replied the nurse who got up from her desk and opened the door to an examination room.  Martha meekly walked into the room.

“Sit down,” said the nurse pointing to the exam table.  “Here, put this on,” she went on tossing her an examination gown.  As Martha pulled off her jail issue cotton dress, the nurse filled out the patient registration form.  “The doctor will be with you shortly,” said the nurse in a very harsh voice.

In a few minutes, the doctor walked in the room. “OK Lang, what is the problem?” he said in a very tired voice.  “Well, my stomach……..,” Martha started to say when she was interrupted.  “You constipated, correct?” said the doctor.  “Well, yes,” said Martha in a very small voice, “If I could just have a laxative or something….,” The young doctor interrupted, “When you get your medical license you can write the prescriptions, OK?  The nurse will be with you in a bit,” he said as he walked out the door. (more…)

This story takes place on an island in the pacific ocean. I was flying over the island and my plane crashed. I was wandering around the island for days with nothing to eat but coconuts and bananas. On the third day I ran into a friendly village of natives, the Walla Walla tribe. They still practiced ancient forms of medicine. The chief was in his fifties and his daughter was Sunny for short.

I had become very dehydrated and very sick and very constipated. I needed a shower and a shave and deodorant badly. Sunny found me on the beach and took me back to the village. I thought I was going to be the main course but they turned out to be vegetarians. They fixed me a big salad of pineapples and oranges. Sunny took me over to meet the medicine man. He started dancing around me and shaking the maracha. I thought he was trying out for Xavier Cugat. He could have got his license from Desi Arnez.

His named turned out to be Welby He didn’t look anything like Robert Young. They escorted me to the main hut which had three or four rooms and some cots fashioned out of bamboo They laid me on the cot. Sunny had just turned 21. They made me take off all my clothes and I was standing in front of Sunny completely nude. I almost gave her a spanking. Sunny was laughing hysterically. She had been taught by a missionary and she spoke English. (more…)

My physicians words ran through my head as I walked down the hall to the clinic.”You are pretty young to have prostate trouble.  You need a regular love life.  Get married.” 
    
 It was true.  I was only thirty and in good health.  This was … what?  Surely a nuisance.  In the previous week I had tried one visiting nurse and had only a tender rectum and swollen prostate to show for it.  The receptionist in the glass enclosed office gave me the usual forms to fill out.

Then, a charming nurse, clipboard in hand, called my name.”John?” I arose and followed her.  Her name was ‘Salle” With an “E” she informed me, smiling up into my eyes.  I was captivated.  Salle rustled as she walked.  It was her uniform which she overfilled.  Her breasts were almost peeking out of the top of the blouse and her thighs were exposed at the hemline.  Her bottom filled the dress perfectly. (more…)

“Helen walked out.” Those were the first words I heard on my cell phone when I returned the page that had come in. I was standing in the grocery store parking lot. The voice was that of my 20 year old son, Hank.

“When did that happen?” I asked, not really interested, but wondering what was so important that he paged me about it. I suppose I should explain. Hank’s father is my ex-husband, Joel … we’ve been divorced for the better part of Hank’s 20 years. Helen is — was — Joel’s live-in fiancee of 5 years. Joel has always been a wonderful, caring, docile man and always did what his women told him to do. That’s why we’re no longer married. I couldn’t stand the fact that he let me and his mother and his sister walk all over him. Helen was no better. Hank refered to her as “Helen the Dominatrix.”

“Five days ago. Mom, I’m worried about Dad.” Hank went on to explain … since Helen left, Joel wasn’t eating or drinking much and he hadn’t left his bed. “Can you help him, Mom? He looks weak and his skin is kinda gray.”

Gray skin on the man with the golden tan? That’s not good. “I’m on my way, son. Stay with him and be there to let me in.” I put my groceries in the car and drove quickly to their house. The wheels were turning in my head. Could he be really ill? Or perhaps it was a heart problem … as in broken heart. Well, the only way to tell is to see him. (more…)

I was a 27 year old divorcee and the mother of a 3 year old. I was an LPN, working at the hospital during the day and going to school at night to become a Nurse Practitioner. My mother took care of my son most of the time and I hated it. I was his mother — I should be doing it. But there was no time. Some day, tho …

Bruce was a 40 year old corporate lawyer in the last throes of a messy divorce. Between his job and his soon-to-be-ex-wife, he was having major gastro problems and was in the hospital for tests. He had enough money to afford a private room. He was undergoing a complete GI series, among other things, and he wasn’t happy about it.

The day we met wasn’t a particularly good one for either of us, and it comes back vividly. I had been up most of the night with a sick child and had been studying for a test. Bruce had been poked and prodded so much that he was heartily sick of the whole mess. However, that day he was scheduled for a barium enema so he had to be good and clean, at least on the inside. I had the dubious pleasure of prepping him.

I rolled my cart, with the enema equipment on it, and a stand into the room, gave him my brightest smile and introduced myself. His response? “Get the hell out.”

My smile froze. “Something wrong?” (more…)

My niece Jenny has lived with me all summer. She gets into trouble and I had to paddle her real well the other night. She understood and thanked me for caring. It was not one of the most favorite things I had to do. She went out last night and come home from the movie and said, “Uncle Dave, I don’t feel well.”

I sat her down and said, “When was the last time you had a BM ?”

“Five days ago.”

I said, “Do you want another spanking ?”

She said, “I need an enema more.”

I said, “You are eighteen now and you can administer an enema to yourself.”

“But Dave I am too squeamish to do it.”

I said, “Can’t your girl friends give you one ?”

“I’d be too embarrassed to ask.” (more…)

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