It seems like a distant memory.  At times, he even wonders if it had actually happened, though he knows it had.   It is a very powerful memory of an experience that had combined strong emotions and bodily reactions; it was an event that changed his life.

Ryan remembers the details distinctly; he replays them often in his mind.  It starts with him standing in the bathroom wearing only his classic white underpants and short white athletic sox.  He wonders why that particular dress left such a mark, but, to this day, undies and sox mean only one thing, an enema.   

He looked up with his puppy dog eyes, “But why?”

“What were you supposed to do while I was out?” his father asked.

Ryan dropped his head, “Clean up the dishes and the family room.”

“Did you do that?”

“No Sir.”

“And what did you do instead?”

“Play video games.”  He paused, then added, “But I reached the highest level…” hoping that might win some favor.  His father was a great dad, but had a busy schedule and left Ryan yearning for more time with him.  The last thing Ryan wanted to do was disappoint his father.  He had hoped that by sharing his success in the game, his father would be proud.  Clearly, Ryan had miscalculated.

“And did you do your assigned chores?”

“No Sir.”  Clearly, Ryan had fallen short despite the satisfaction of his own personal success.

“Then that is why we’re here now.”

Ryan watched as the soap swirled in the full pitcher of water.  As it worked its way around the top, the water was turning cloudy, and with time, very milky.  What had been clear was now opaque.  A head of soapsuds was forming, as his father worked the bar of soap in the very warm water.  Ryan could see small amounts of steam rising from the surface documenting its heat. 

The scent of the Ivory soap filled the bathroom.  It was unmistakable, partly fresh and clean, but also clinical.  Its freshness could not hide its matter-of-fact clinical utility.  It was soap and the role of soap was to clean. 

The empty enema bag laid next to the pitcher, a tube of K-Y jelly nearby. Ryan looked at the tubing as it coiled around and ended with a nozzle.  As he looked at it, it seemed very big.  It frightened him.  How was that going to get into him.  Would it hurt? Would it even fit?  The gravity of the situation was dawning on Ryan.  He liked the personal attention he was getting from his father, but he wondered what the price would be.

Overall, Ryan was a good kid.  He studied and got good grades.  He helped out at home.  As far as kids goes, all of the parents in the neighborhood liked Ryan.  He had a squeaky-clean, boy-next-door quality to him.  His warm smile, polite manners, and easy disposition made him a quick friend, and he was popular.  While not a jock by any standard, he liked sports and was good enough.  He swam on the club team in the summer (his favorite) but also played soccer and baseball at school.  His developing body reflected such musculature.  Girls, in particular, liked him, and he was a common topic of their lunchtime conversation at school.  Ryan, though, had not noticed them as much; his eyes were on other students, particularly the boys, and most attentively in the locker room.  He figured he just had not developed the interest his classmates had in girls but that it would happen with time. 

So there Ryan was, in the bathroom, wearing just his underpants and sox.  While the room was warm, Ryan felt a shiver through his body.  He knew that what was going to happen was not necessarily going to be the high point of his day.  Why hadn’t he done what he was supposed to?  He and his dad could have been doing something else.  It was bittersweet.  Ryan was getting increasingly nervous about what was to transpire.

His father took the soap out of the pitcher.  He reached over and closed the clamp on the enema bag. “Hold the bag,” he instructed his son.  Ryan picked the bag up and held it while his father poured the whole pitcher of soapy water into the bag.  It almost overflowed.  The head of soapsuds at the top did bubble over the top a little.  As he held the filling bag, Ryan could now fully appreciate its warmth.  It was not too hot, but it was very warm. 

His father put the empty pitcher down and took the bag from his son and hung it on the towel rack midway up the wall bringing the tubing up and resting it over the top.  Ryan stood motionless, taking in the whole scene.  As he surveyed the bathroom more fully, he saw that there had been a towel placed on the floor.  The scene was set.

His father looked him straight in the eyes, “Son, you know why you’re getting this enema?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t do as I was told.”

“That’s right.  You need to learn to be responsible.  That attitude of ‘you’re going to do what you want’ does not work here or in the world. Do you understand me?”

“”Yes Sir, but do we have to?”

“Yes.  I need to teach you discipline.  It won’t help to let things like this go.  My father taught me this lesson the same way I am going to teach it to you.”

“Yes Sir.”  Ryan so much wanted his father’s praise and love.  He would have done almost anything, but now, standing there, in his barely clothed state, knowing what was going to happen, he had major regrets.  “But, I’m sorry, I really am.  I won’t do it again.”

“I know you are son, and I accept your apology, but this needs to be done.  Boys have a way of forgetting, and they need firm discipline to make sure they learn their lesson. My father taught me this lesson on more than one occasion, and I learned.  You will too, even if it needs to be repeated” 

Ryan knew it was no use.  It was going to happen.  He only hoped it would not be too bad.  Enemas were supposed to be good for you, aren’t they?  He looked at the bulging enema bag and its thick nozzle.  Would it hurt? Would he be able to take it all?  The bag almost looked bigger than his flat belly.  How would he ever be able to take the whole thing?

“Ryan, look at the bag.  Do you see it?”

“Yes Sir.”

“You’re going to need to take the whole bag, do you understand me?”

“Yes Sir, but,….it’s so big.”

“It will push your limits, but you can do it.  This is part of your punishment.”

“But I said I was sorry. I learned my lesson.  Please dad….”

“And I accepted your apology and know you want to do the right thing, but now, the right thing is taking your enema, and the whole bag, no matter how uncomfortable it may get.  Do you understand me?”

“The whole bag?  What if I feel full or it starts to cramp or hurt?”  Ryan kept looking back and forth from his father to the bulging enema bag becoming increasingly worried, as he knew the time for it was coming.  Why hadn’t he just done his chores as he was told?

“Yes Ryan, the whole bag.  You need to show me that you have learned your lesson.  Now take off your underpants.”

“But please, don’t do it. I’m sorry, really I am.”

“Take your underpants off.  Don’t make me ask you again.”

Ryan knew he did not have a choice.  He reached his hands into the waistband of his classic white briefs.  He pushed them over his hips and they fell to his ankles.  He stepped out of them and hung them on the rack.  He now stood in front of the bulging bag wearing only his sox.  He was fully exposed for his father’s inspection.  He felt the sharp contrast of the bathroom air on his body with the warmth he felt in his toes from his sox.  It was a weird feeling.  It almost made him feel more naked that how naked he really was.

“Get on the towel on all fours,” he was instructed.  Ryan did as told.

“That a boy, now spread your knees apart a bit.”  He did.  His father was clear in his directions.  Ryan knew him to be a no-nonsense type of guy, but also a truly caring father.  Ryan felt his father rub his back and buttocks.  Then he felt him spread his cheeks.  His father had a clear look at Ryan’s rosebud and could smell his boy-scent.  He knew the enema would be hard for Ryan to take, it was a punishment he had received regularly from his own father.  But, he knew it was for Ryan’s own good, and he would help his son endure the punishing enema.  He knew his son would be a better boy for having taken it.

His father reached for the KY and placed a generous dollop on his finger.  “I’m going to lube you. Try to relax.”

“Yes Sir.”  His father could hear in a somewhat quivering, almost mumbled voice by his son.  Ryan’s head was held down.  Occasionally, he would look over his shoulder to see the bulging bag hanging there waiting to deliver its punishment. 

Ryan felt his cheeks spread and then his father’s finger at his anus.  He wanted to resist, but knew it would not work.  It was cold, and he could feel pressure.  He instinctively tightened up. “Open up Ryan, don’t fight it; it will go easier.”

“I’m trying.” 

“That a boy.”  Ryan felt the finger entering.  It felt cool.  He could feel his father spreading the lube all around on the inside and moving his finger in and out, then finally removed.

His father then took the nozzle and smeared the remaining lube on it.  He aimed it at the tub and opened the clamp.  Ryan heard a gurgle and then saw the spray of water from the nozzle tip spraying into the tub.  His father shut the clamp.  He spread Ryan’s cheeks once again and let the nozzle rest on Ryan’s rosebud.  “Bear down like you’re having a BM.”  Ryan did as told.  He felt pressure at the entrance.  He wanted to resists it penetration, but had no ability to as the nozzle made its way in carefully directed by his father.  It was so big.  Ryan worried how it would fit in.  His anxiety rose as he felt the seemingly very large tulip-shaped head of the nozzle penetrate him.  He took a gasp, and as he did, his rectum swallowed the nozzle.  His father moved it in and out a bit to make sure, it was well-seated.  Ryan regained his breath.  Despite his fears, it was OK, in fact, it kind of felt good.

“That a boy.” His father said rubbing his hand over Ryan’s back.  “It’s a big nozzle to help you hold your enema.”

“Are you ready son?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Now remember, you need to take the whole bag.  It may get uncomfortable, but it has to be done.  Once it starts, it will continue until you empty the bag.  Understand?”

“Yes Sir.”

“If you can’t make it, I’ll stop, but it will mean repeated enemas and further punishment.  Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.”  Ryan was a smart boy.  He knew he had to make it through the enema which hung above him. 

“OK then, here we go.”  Ryan braced himself.  There was quiet in the bathroom, and then he heard it, “CLICK,” it was the dull metallic sound of the hose clamp.    There was a pause and then Ryan felt it.  The warm feeling started inside of him coming from where he imagined the nozzle was.  It was a weird feeling.  The warmth spread through his pelvis.  He started to breath.  “This won’t be too bad,” he said to himself, hoping he was right.

His father rubbed his back and moved the nozzle in and out to make sure it was seated correctly. He reiterated, “I know you’re sorry son, for not getting your chores done, but you have to do better. Understand?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, but that’s why we’re here. I want you to learn from your mistakes.”

Ryan was half listening and half trying to take in the whole situation.  He was naked, wearing only short sox, on all fours in the bathroom, with a nozzle in his rectum filling him with hot, soapy water.  On one hand, he was scared and on the other, he reveled in the closeness he was having with his father.  He knew his father meant well, and he wanted to make him proud. 

The initial good feeling was starting to change.  Ryan was starting to feel full.  He turned and looked up at the bag.  It was still pretty full, at least half, he thought.  He lowered his head and tried to distract himself.  It became harder. The full feeling was beginning to morph.  He was starting to feel a cramp. He looked again, this time feeling more desperate. The bag did not look like it moved much.  He started to panic.    He let out a soft moan.

“That a boy, about half way there.  Be strong for me.”

“Yes Sir.”  His voice now had a quiver.  It had lost the strong sense it had earlier.  His father could tell the enema was starting to have the desired effect. 

His father reached under him and rubbed his belly. “Let the enema go in and work, son.  It needs to clean you out.”  As he moved his hand back, it grazed Ryan’s cock.  This felt weird to Ryan, it almost was a bit exciting and he started to feel an erection.  He thought, “How crazy, I’m feeling full and yet I’m getting hard.”

Then it happened, what had felt pleasantly full, gave way to a strong cramp. “Ohhh” he what felt pleasantly full gave way to a strong let out a cry, “It hurts dad, seriously. Please stop it.” 

“It’s OK son, work through it. Take short quick breathes, pant like a doggy.”  His father reached under and gently rubbed his son’s belly.  “That a boy, you can do it.” His father’s mind went back to his days receiving punishment enemas from his father.  They were very strong and painful enemas.  His father offered no consolation.  Had Ryan’s father complained he would have gotten a severe spanking and yet another, even soapier enema.  Ryan’s father made the conscious decision to help his son through it as hard as it would be.  Ryan needed to learn discipline and his father would help him learn it. 

“Oh Dad, it hurts, Please stop. I don’t think I can take any more.”

“Yes you can. Open up.  Be a good boy for me. Take the enema.” 

“Dad, no, please stop it.  I’m sorry, really I am.  I learned my lesson.  It’s enough to clean me out.”  The pleas were getting more desperate.  His son’s voice got higher.  This otherwise strong boy was being reduced to a child.  He was clearly uncomfortable, entering into panic mode.  He panted hard, looking up to his father for relief.

“No dice, you need to learn discipline son, and you will take the whole enema, every drop.”   His father knew it was tough, but also knew his son could do it and would feel better having done it.  He rubbed Ryan’s back some more.  “That a boy, it’s almost all in.  Just a little more.”

Ryan was panting like a doggy and almost shaking.  The cramp was starting to ease.  He looked up and the bag was almost empty.  He felt his father’s presence and felt him rub his back and his belly.  He also noted that he was now rock hard.  He was instantly embarrassed.   What was that about he questioned himself.  How is he going to explain it to his father? 

Unbeknownst to Ryan, his father knew all too well about enemas and erections.  Having been at the receiving end of many of his own father’s enemas and having sported raging hard-ons himself through his enemas, he knew that Ryan was responding like any normal boy.  In some ways, he was proud of his son and at the same time impressed by his son’s manhood.

“It’s OK son, enemas will get you hard. I’ve been there many times.”  The words were meant to comfort.

‘Dad, it’s so embarrassing.  Can’t we please stop?  I’m full. I can’t take any more.”

“It’s almost all over, and then we can stop.  I told you the whole bag and we aren’t wimping out now.”  His father rested his hand on Ryan’s back, rubbed it and his legs.  A small amount of sweat was now present.  And, to Ryan’s further embarrassment, there was also a generous amount of pre-cum dripping from his dick.  Ryan had gotten his treatment.  His father assessed the enema as a “good” enema, one meant to help his son mature into the fine young man he would be. And like himself, Ryan may have learned of the pleasures enemas can provide

The bag gurgled.  Ryan let out a sigh.  His father closed the clamp. 

“Can I go?”

“Whoa there trooper.  Chill out.  We need to let it work.  Rest tight.”

“Please dad, I’m really full. I have to go.”  Ryan looked at his father with such pitiful eyes.  His father knew the feeling, but also knew letting his son off easy would not help him.  Ryan needed to learn the discipline.

‘No son, you have to hold your enema. It’s part of learning discipline.  If we always got what we wanted when we wanted, we wouldn’t be able to endure the harder things life deals us.”

Ryan missed most of the message.  He was focusing on keeping the angry enema water in his bowels and not having an accident. 

“That a boy.  Hold your enema. No leaks or we’ll start over from the beginning.”  His father could see him clamping down on the nozzle.  He knew the enema wanted out.  He reached under Ryan’s now bloated belly and rubbed. “It’s like you’re pregnant” he mused with a smile.

“Daddddd…” Ryan was not amused.  “Please stop. It’s hard enough holding the enema.  Please let me go.”

“Stop being a baby.  You can and will hold your enema.  Do you want another one?

“No Sir. Please I’m just so full and I REALLY have to go.” Ryan was more emphatic this time.  He really did need to expel.

“OK young man. Now you promise to behave in the future and when you’re assigned chores to do them.”

“Yes.”  There was a pleading quality in Ryan’s voice.  His father knew he would not be able to hold the enema much more.  He gently removed the large nozzle.  “OK, young man, on the toilet.”  Ryan got up, his belly very full, looking pregnant, and with a very strong urge to expel.  He seared himself on the toilet and immediately the flood started.  Ryan could feel the water as it exited; it was still very warm.  His release was punctuated by occasional more formed stool and gas.  He rested is elbows on his knees and let his head drop.  His father stood over him and rubbed his hair and then shoulders.

“Now that wasn’t that bad, was it?”  His father asked with a subtle smile.  Ryan looked up,

feeling exhausted, intermittently grimacing as a wave came over him and he expelled. 

“Is that the type of enema Grandpop gave you?”  Ryan knew of his father’s experiences.  He had been curious but was always scared to ask.  This seemed like the right time and allowed him to take his mind off the torrent coming out of his rectum.

“Yes, but mine were even more intense, if you can believe that.”

Ryan held his head down as he let go another burst of enema water and stool.  He started to breathe heavier and then relaxed.

“You were a good boy Ryan.  It is hard taking a hot, soapy enema, but you troopered through it.  You made me proud.  When I was your age, I was a mess. Crying, screaming, and begging.  Sometimes, Uncle Pat had to come help hold me down while Grandpop gave me my enemas.  Honestly, you were quite the man.  Makes me think I should give you another one to make sure.”  His father had a smile on his face.

“Dad!” Ryan had not seen the smile but, when he did, they both laughed together in a shared moment.  It was followed by more water streaming out of Ryan’s rectum. 

Ryan looked at the empty enema bag hanging there and its hose resting in the tub.  His father sat on the tub edge across from him.  They felt a closeness.  It was father-son bonding.  Ryan felt really proud to have a dad who cared about him and took care of him.   As hard as the enema was to take, he knew that his taking and holding it made his dad proud, and that made he feel good. 

“You about done?” his father asked him.

“Yeah, not sure there is anything else in there.  You really cleaned me out.” 

“Well, wipe up and then maybe go in your room and rest a little.  Sometimes there is more that will want to come out.” Words of advice that came from an experienced enema receiver. 

His father started to clean up and put things away, leaving the enema bag hanging over the showerhead in plain view to remind Ryan of his enema.  Ryan wiped himself generously and put his underpants on, flushed the toilet, and washed up before heading to his room. 

Once there he turned some music on and plopped down on his bed.  He felt a sense of relief, but his mind started to race.  He had so many different thoughts and feeling going around in his head.  As he pondered them, he let his hand move down his belly to his briefs. 

He gently rubbed and noted that he was getting hard again.  He reached inside the waistband and took his cock in his hand and gently stroked it.  He figured after the enema he would just pass out, but he found something that kept him awake.  He thought about the nozzle in his rectum and that initial feeling as the enema started to fill him and before the cramps.  He got rock hard.  He pushed his brief down, initially to his thighs, then ankles and then totally off.  Lying there in just his sox, he stroked himself.  It felt great.  His belly was super flat probably from being totally cleaned out by the enema. 

He arched his back a bit.  He could not stop himself.  He stroked harder knowing it was going to happen. Outside the closed bedroom door, his father could hear the rhythmic sounds coming from Ryan’s room and acknowledged to himself with a smile what was going on.  What a good enema-boy Ryan was, he thought. 

His breathing picked up and he let out a moan as he felt the electricity pulse through his body and he shot a massive load some hitting over his head, the majority landing on his belly and chest.  He kept stroking and basked in the great feeling.  He then knew he was an enema-boy and that he was hooked.