The Soap Stick

During the summers, the cousins I lived with would travel to Texas to visit some of their friends and participate in some religious conferences and retreats as part of their church work. These trips always lasted two to three weeks and they left me with the two older ladies who lived down the road from us.  They were sisters, Miss Mary and Miss Martha, whom I called Nanny.  My “Aunt Kate” as I called her was very concerned about my behavior and also about my “regularity” so the ladies were given complete permission to both discipline me and give me any “help” I needed to keep regular. In that day and age, the “help” meant an enema.

Naturally, like most kids, I hated getting enemas, especially getting one from these two old ladies. But I was small for my age and since it was two on one, when I fought back I would always lose—and get a spanking for being disobedient—so I usually just gave in.

But finally by the summer when I was 9 and a half, I started complaining again that I didn’t need an enema. My sitter’s believed that little boys often got “out of sorts” when they went to stay in a strange place and eat strange food, so they often would give me an enema during that first week to help me get “settled down.” In fact, they felt that enemas were actually good for a boy—that they were kind of a “tonic” I guess—that actually helped a boy stay healthy. “It might not help, but it can’t hurt” was there motto about enemas.

So one day I come in the kitchen and Nanny is busy working with something in the pan she used to shells peas. It looks like she’s whittling and there is a bar of soap on the table, and I ask her what she’s doing and she says that she’s fixing a “soap stick.” Of course I had never heard of that, and she explained that it was a type of medicine that goes in your bottom to help you make a doo doo. She said since I didn’t like enemas, maybe the soap stick would be better. As a 9 year old, I was repulsed by the idea that she wanted to give me medicine in my bottom, so I beat a retreat to play outside.

But their house was old and didn’t have air conditioning, so that meant that I had to have a bath almost every night. When Nanny comes in to see how I’ve done with washing myself, I notice that she’s placing something on the sink. It’s a white plug, about the size of an adults thumb that’s tapered at one end. As she is drying me, she can see me staring at looking at soap sticks and the vaseline sitting on the basin. She tells me that I need an enema since I’m been so irregular lately, but that we can try the soap stick since I don’t like enemas.

I make some feeble attempt to beg off, but she is having none of it. She runs the soap sticks under the water to get them wet and then sits down on the toilet lid. I am still naked and moist from my bath and she pulls me to her and lays me over her lap. I feel the all too familiar feeling of her fingers sliding between my bottom cheeks and beginning to spread them, she is starting to rub vaseline on my little anus and to work her finger in my bottom. “Please, please” I start my usual pleading about having medicine in my bottom. She withdraws her finger and for a second I hope that I may be spared.

Suddenly I feel a bad pressure on my anus as the tapered end of the soap stick begins to enter my bottom. “AAAaaahhhh” I cry out, as the thick stick starts to slip inside me, “it hurts, it hurts” but all I get is a “quiet now! it needs to go in so it can work!” It’s very uncomfortable, bigger than the enema syringe and I plead and plead for her to stop but she slowly begins to turn it, slowly screwing the soap stick deep within my bottom. I can feel her hand against my bottom holding it in place.

”There, there” “just let it work!” I’m sobbing and the pressure in my bottom is most uncomfortable but I’m stuck over her lap. Slowly I realize that she has begun to slowly turn the soap stick again and the pressure in my bottom is starting to tingle, and it begins to tingle more and more as she continues manipulating the thick soap stick in bottom. Of course I am begging for real now, because the tingling has started to burn. After what seems like an eternity, she allows me to sit on the toilet. And of course she was right, the stick did work just as well as the enema, I produce a big doo doo to show her that I’m regular. But my bottom is still tingling when I go to bed that night.

So later that summer I have to spend another week with them when my cousins go on another trip, and Nanny comes in during my bath. Do I want an enema or should we use the soap stick again? I must have been as red as a beet with embarrassment when I tell her to please fix the enema. As much as I hated them, the enema was still more pleasant than having that piece of soap in my bottom.

It is really is true what they say, be careful what you ask for.
LittleFlynn LittleFlynn
51-55, M
6 Responses Sep 11, 2011

The holidays, and having to make a doo doo for my Aunt. It's so difficult to remember all that. But I was only 6 years old and had no say in what happened. Happy Holidays all! Flynn

You are definitely not alone - I received several soap sticks (and enemas) from my mom growing up. If anyone would like to share stories, you can IM me on Yahoo - steve6245

Yes, I lived in fear of that soap stick. She did not use it a lot but she would bring it out when she wanted to get my full attention. And of course my complete obedience. I would try to run away but she would call me back and make my stand there and watch her dunking the soap stick to get it wet.

Little Flynn, you,re not alone! when I was growing after eveing meals and the dishes cleared, my mother would run bath for me, and prior to entering the overly warm water, she would lay me across her lap & insert the thermometer in my anus to check my temperature. When it was pulled out after 3/4 minutes, she'd put vaseline inside me working her finger all around before inserting 2 large glycerine suppositries in me. If I cried out it pain another one was inserted for good measure, "to clean the external dross that became internal, & with an enema syringe squirt water into me several times. If I yelled or became hysterical she'd paddled me and then in the bath she would wash me thouragly, telling me not to leak any "poo poos". After she dried me she would lay me accross her lap insert her finger in me for an "examination" as she called it, squirt more water in me, and I had to lie on her lap for 10 minutes. <br />
this happened 3 times a week. then she would watch me relieve myself, put daipers on me and make me go to bed. In the morning a brief clean-out before school was always foorthcoming

never had soap stick but my mom once put this large pill up my butt hole an i had to be bare bottom till i went to bathroom omg i take enema anytime after that <br />
the pill made me go every 15 mins so stinky


That's about the same age that I began to learn that enemas would be enjoyable instead of simply frightening! One of my sitters, who I often had to stay overnight with, began using an adult sized syringe on me at that time. Although the thick nozzle was very uncomfortable at first, I always got an erection when she used it on me. Of course touching myself was forbidden but lying in bed later and thinking about it always brought my erection back and then I could experiment with my "new toy." Lovely memory!!.

i give myself enema now most syringe type sometimes when i have time nozze with bag of water

By age ten, I was ready to give myself all the enemas I could find time for. I liked the result of getting a hard on. And getting it off.