The Soap StickDuring 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.