This chapter will be all over the place. Warnings.
Another two-parter-ish because I can't get off my ass.
Diana wiped the potato from his face, which had gained its color. She smiled watching him eye the dessert dish. "I know what you want..."
He was getting full. His belly was bloated when she rubbed his belly to elicit a burp. "You did a good job, Barry." The large plate was running out of food for the spoon to pick up, the soup and milk glass filled with only drops. The Ensure being half full, though half empty. Creamed spinach took some coaxing, until he realized how sweet it was. Passive reminders towards the dessert were mostly keeping him in check.
She took a wet wipe to his fingers. They were slathered in yogurt and broth. From the few times he would reach over and play with the food while she was trying to feed him.
"Let's try to finish your Ensure. At least ten drinks." Then dessert.
That's fair, he thought. He parted his mouth and waited.
"Do you want to feed yourself? Here." She put the Ensure to his lips. With one hand supporting the bottom of it, and the other hand guiding his hand onto the drink. His shaky hand was weak down to his elbow, so his fingers merely rested around the drink. His brain was too mushy to process that she was the one feeding him, and that he was just touching. She subtly tilted the bottom up and down, counting each swallow.
When his fingers tried resting the drink, she took it away. "Are you done?" She placed it out of his spillable reach, with a few drinks to spare if he got thirsty. "Very great job, Barry."
She revealed the largest slice of custard cake, or the first slice, he's ever seen. Drizzled over in blackberry jam. The piles of cool whip were sugar clouds. They tapered off at the top like fluffy ice cream. His hand reached over for it, but ended up tapping the platter underneath it. Diana hadn't moved it close enough for him to smash with his fingers, like he'd done with the cranberries.
With a chuckle, she scraped a dollop of cool whip off the plate and fed it to him. Much to his frustration, it melted in his mouth before he could chew it. She had to coax him to open his mouth for a bite of solid cake.
Barry's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Without swallowing, he opened for another bite. It was a mouth full of orgasm, the sugar sliding down his throat and coating his entire tract. A small moan escaped him. It's something he hasn't had in days, maybe almost two weeks, because of the knots in his stomach.
Diana was generous and gave him slightly bigger bites. After a few bites, it was too much. As he tried swallowing, his jaw tightened and the bite came up from his throat. His head dipped down, wanting to spit the bite out. She held his napkin bib up and waited to catch the custard, while scooping up saliva that ran down his chin. His appetite made him too stubborn to open his mouth. "I have the napkin," Diana said, brushing it against his mouth, "it's alright."
She caught the bite and folded the napkin aside for laundry. Rubbing his chest, she cooed, "What happened? What's wrong?" Her opposite hand played with his hair. It felt dreadful seeing him have such a hard time - for no apparent reason. His body seemed to not want something he was really enjoying.
After the rosiness left his cheeks, she suggested, "Do you want to try again?"
She folded a smaller napkin up to hold it under his face, since he'd be done eating soon. He was able to take some small bites, with some time between. His jaw was getting weak again, so she guided, "Chew very well. Chew... chew... chew... chew."
His full mouth smiled. "Like a train!" When he opened for another bite, his hand reached out for the spoon. His fingers tried grabbing cake off the spoon, until Diana pulled the spoon away.
"No, Barry." She maneuvered past his hand to put the spoon in his mouth.
"Do you want to feed yourself? Here..." Diana took the napkin and tucked it into his shirt. When wiping his fingers clean, she positioned his hand onto the spoon. "Here."
Unbeknownst to him, she was the one moving the food towards his mouth. He curled his feet keenly.
She took the spoon to scoop another bite, then gave it back to him. After a few bites, he let her start to feed him again.
His arm moved under the table. Though focused on feeding him, her eyes were peeled as to what his arm was up to.
"Barry." Putting the spoon down, she gently grabbed under the table. His hand was petting and groping. His breathing getting sharper, until she pulled his hand away. She told him, suppressing hysterical laughter, "Barry, sweetie, it's time to eat right now." She hated herself for having to do it. And she personally couldn't blame him. From what she understood about man's testosterone sex drive, she imagined it being much harder to control, and being stiff too much must've gotten painful. He's had many erections and his precum was starting to stick to the foley tube, but he hasn't had a chance to relieve it in at least a week. "It's not appropriate to touch yourself when you're not alone. Please do it later when you're alone." It felt bad for her to hold his hand up on his belly; he was probably just trying to take the edge off.
He completely disregarded it. She took it as slight humiliation and moved on.
"Chew... chew... like a train," he spoke in a wispy tone.
"Yes, Barry, chew well."
His fingers wiggled under her hand. He managed to slip his hand out from hers.
To divert him from a possible masturbation impulse, she asked, "You want to feed yourself?"
He clasped his fingers around the spoon as she brought it to his mouth.
"Hold the spoon," she said, as a passive way to keep his hand from touching himself. "Nice job, Barry." His hand, especially his thumb, were gaining coordination again. It was his hand guiding hers and the spoon to his mouth.
Barry let her take the spoon back. Diana placed it on the plate to take a break when he dropped his head and pressed his hand to his rib. She gave a small scratch to his stiffening shoulder. then moved to his belly. "Do you have gas?"
A light ache ran from his throat to his ribcage. A twinging, pulsing, crawling feeling, if he paid enough attention. He didn't have a name for it until she asked if it was gas. However it didn't resemble any gas he's ever had, it easily could've been heartburn from a new sugary food.
She patted the rib he was holding, in between kneading circles on his belly. Chalked it up to feeding himself at a pace he wasn't adjusted to anymore. There didn't seem to be food caught, he was swallowing comfortably.
He let out a long burp. Black jam came up onto his chin and the napkin.
"Glad we had this," she whispered, cleaning his chin with a clean part of the napkin.
"Glad we had it," he repeated. His head came up for another bite.
"Halfway done." She gave the next bite a little slower.
His full mouth rambled about the berries and the sticky of the jam and the fine china she fed him from. He gulped the solid bite.
She put the spoon down to threaten no more bites. "No, you need to chew it first."
Jam trailed from his throat. Poured out over his lip. He stopped talking in order to open for another bite.
Diana put a bite near his face and stopped. The control would get him to listen. She locked her eyes onto his. "Barry, you need to chew before you swallow. You cannot speak with your mouth full. It is rude. It's dangerous, mostly now since you're weak, you can choke and you're swallowing more air. If you have something to say, I will wait and listen."
A dirty, pouty look splayed on his face.
She raised her eyebrows and firmly said his name.
The pouting melted off his face. Her eyebrows lowered. When his lips pouted again, her eyebrow went back up.
His face relaxed and his mouth dropped open.
"Are you going to chew?" Her brow was still up. "Chew chew?" The bite came closer to his mouth. "You won't talk when you're supposed to be chewing?" Partially a question, partially a command.
She fed him the bite. Didn't scoop up another one until he swallowed. She waited for him to properly eat a few bites, then praised him.
His submission couldn't keep the pouting away. The look spread over his face, and her eyebrow would stay up.
"The pouting won't change anything, young man."
His face erased clean except an open mouth.
"That's what I thought, Barry."