Enema Butterflies

It happens each time you are called in to the bathroom. You are wearing only your boy white underpants and socks and as you enter, you see it. That bag, bulging with hot, soapy water and the tubing draped over with its large nozzle eyeing you back. While it is smaller than you, it is more powerful. There’s no use trying to get out of it; that is not an option. You feel the enema butterflies in your stomach. You know what is going to happen. Soon, you will shed the underpants, expose yourself, and get into position. That nozzle will be inserted and then you will hear that unmistakable CLICK. There will be a pause and then you will feel it. initially, it a warm sensation that starts inside and gradually works its way out. But then with time, what started as a comfortable, maybe even erotic feeling will become uncomfortable. You get an erection, but then it fades. You know the water entering has a high concentration of soap whose job is to clean you out, and clean you out it will do. The pressure will build. You say to yourself, you can take it. In your mind you say, “Give me the whole bag,” but the cramps start and despite being the toughest kid you can be it has you gripped. You start with a moan, maybe a whimper. Then you can’t hold back, “Please stop it. I’m full. It hurts.” There is no use, that is not an option.

You are told to take short quick breathes, “Pant like a doggy.” You just want it to end. It is too much. It hurts and cramps.

“Please stop it, that’s enough, I can’t take anymore. Please let me go to the bathroom”

“Nonesense, it the usual bag. The same enema all the other boys take. Maybe you need this one more than usual. It’s almost over, you can do it. “

You try more and more to be a really good boy. You know it has to be done and if you don’t it will only mean repeated enemas. You put your head down, pant like a doggy, and then hear it. That gurgle. Finally, it’s over.

“Good boy. Now let it work a few minutes.”

You concentrate on keeping your sphincter tight. No leaks. Your once very hard cock is now limp. You will take care of it later. You wait until you hear, “That a boy. OK, you can release.”

With the nozzle barely out, you hop up and land on the topilet seat with little time to hear the gushes. The hot soapy water avalanches out punctuated by the stool. Maybe you really did need the enema. A fine sweat forms as you expel more and more. You look up at the now-empty bag hanging from the shower curtain rod, having completed its duty (you hope). As exposed as you are, totally naked except those short white sox, you don’t care. It’s more important to get rid of the enema and hope it was a “good enema” and not needing to be repeated.

You get your hair tousled and a rub to the back, “Good boy.” As hard as it all was, that is enough. You feel prod of yourself.