Chapter name is your only warning, folks.
She stacked the mess onto the large tray so she could free him from the table. Before he could smear food on his clothes, she took a few wet wipes to him. Keeping a fresh bib on him, in case more jam were to come up.
A grumble rang in his belly. The potatoes from yesterday were probably ready to come out as the new food slowly processed. Since Diana would be leaving Barry to take the tray to Alfred, she asked Barry, "Would you like to try using your bedpan?" She disappeared with the table.
His call button was tucked near his waist. He turned to see her pulling out a drawer, then a cabinet. On the table was a bedpan - a shallow metal bowl with a blue plastic seat and handle, a towel, some shea wipes, and a catheter bag and a basin. A disinfectant wipe was out so he could witness her cleaning the seat.
When asked if he preferred Alfred or Bruce instead, he muttered, "You're completely fine."
"Would you like me to put a show on, Barry?" Her hand fished around near his butt and the bed pocket. Switching TV channels with the remote, she stopped on a random movie. It was entertainment and sound, but not enough to distract him from doing the do. She reclined his bed, his head up just enough to see the movie.
She worked the blanket untucked and rolled it off. It was replaced by the towel, which was bunched up at his waist. Her fingers very gently undid his jeans. His jeans and boxers gradually went to his ankles.
The tube held his hard-on to the side, and the head barely prodded the thick towel. Diana tugged the tube when untaping his catheter bag. It was getting lukewarm, filled a few ounces away from capacity. The golden stream in the tube had a silvery tint, the same tint that made the gold bag look foggy, but she'd never seen urine in a bag before to know it wasn't shadow.
A sudden chill tapped his leg. It was the emesis basin, to catch the stream as she disconnected the bag. The basin went back to the table to collect used wipes.
He realized she's been cooing to him. Talking him through peri care. She very carefully followed the lines from the previous tape, in case his OCD would want it in the same place as the old bag.
His knees went in the air. Her warm hand was holding his bare butt, heeding his balls from under the towel. The bedpan came closer, as she let it warm up to his body temp. She lowered his butt onto the seat. Laid his legs down with the towel to his knees.
She prayed it wouldn't take him too long. The bedpan wasn't very ideal, specifically for how bony his butt was when seated. Regardless of the fact he was mesmerized by the dramatic fight on the TV.
Scratching his shoulder, and moving the table from his reach, she said, "I'll be going upstairs to the kitchen. When you need me, press your button." And hopefully he'd do other things he needed to, with the curtain shut.
He couldn't believe he'd wanted her to leave earlier. Now his wish was being granted and he didn't want it. The door closed from behind the curtain.
His thumb smashed the call button. Her voice said through the door, "Give it some time. I will be back in less than ten minutes."
He hated himself for not hearing her speak to him as she was doing his peri care. How did he not hear her? How was she not important to him?
Staring through the curtain, or trying to, and imagining the door coming open. The clock on the wall had the slowest second hand on earth, one tick per two of his breaths - and he convinced himself the clock was running out of batteries, or he at least tried to.
With a sigh, he started doing what she'd wanted him to be doing. His pelvis bones planted to the seat. Poop rumbled around inside his rectum, and the way his flatulence echoed in the bowl made him realize how quiet the room was.
A curdy river started. Even past the commotion in the bowl, Barry could still hear the absence of Diana's footsteps. Not to mention her bold satin voice, her warm touch on his shoulder. He was missing her. If there was something wrong or right going on here, she was missing it. There was no way for him to convey to her. No way to share the television show or this intimate moment with her. And if there was something bad or good with her, she wouldn't be there for him to know. She could've been doing anything, and here Barry was knowing next to nothing. The only thing he was left with was the buzzing of a minifridge, the bold trickling of feces, women's voices on TV, and occasional beeping from medical equipment - his mind burrowed into them, trying to find anything that sounded like Diana.
He rested for a few seconds, before pushing a solid poop through his sphincter.
What was his problem? Four minutes had gone by. He was probably going to be done after a couple pushes. Diana was a woman of her word; "less than ten minutes" was set in stone. Any moment, besides for the call button, she would be coming back in. What was wrong with him, that he couldn't even release waste without approval and comfort?
Trying to hold back a tear, he took turns between the curtain and the clock. Everything was wrong. But he didn't care. It wasn't about him and berating his anxiety wouldn't accomplish anything.
Dammit, it was going to take more than a couple pushes. This poop was a little harder, like a big clump of rabbit drops that accumulated and hardened up.
Tears welled up outside his eyelids and started falling down his cheeks. With his luck, she would come and have to leave again.
Barry could feel the wetness of his diarrhea coating his rectum. Maybe it'd help the process. It had better help.
He cursed himself for relaxing. The stool regressed.
The door opened. Her heaven of a voice asked, "Barry, are you finished?"
Barry wiped his tears off. He couldn't miss getting a clear shot of her face, whenever it'd appear. He tried to sigh a yes, but it came out as a grunt.
She could feel a wave of pain coming from the other side of the curtain. "Are you having trouble, Barry?"
The curtain slowly drifted like a river. Diana came in. "Is it alright for me to help?"
He wasn't sure how she'd help, but he'd give her permission. If it gave her a reason to stay, and maybe touch him.
His bed was lowering, and she was at his side. She had a quiet voice, as to not intrude. "Let's lay you down straight."
His eyes followed her as she left his side. He watched her ponytail bob around as she scrubbed her hands at the sink. Even getting the nothing out of her nails, just for his sake. She brought a basin to the bed, with a glove and lube packet.
"Would you like to bend your knees up?" As he worked his knees, she guided his feet back, holding the towel in place. "Good job, Barry." She repositioned the bedpan.
He blushed, more on the inside than the outside. His erection had gone down but it was considering coming back.
She chuckled, "It's alright to need help. I'll be gentle."
He stared into her eyes and nodded when she asked if he was comfortable.
Diana carefully pulled the glove on, and started warming the lube packet in her hand. She gave eye contact while explaining, "Alright, Barry. I have a glove on, sterile for both of us. I'm going to try digital stimulation where I will use my finger to help your stool come out."
"Okay," he drawled. It was even weirder out loud than in his head. But he could not be upset. It was intimate attention from her.
She broke eye contact for his modesty. His eyes stayed to hers, urging more contact.
Her lubed finger ran along the outside, to relax his anus. It took everything for him to not moan when she peered her finger in. It wasn't just sexual, it was intimate and it was personal and it was Diana and it felt good both emotionally and physically, and how careful and sweet she was being. Her finger started slow to spread the lube and familiarize him with the feel of a finger. It made him want to push.
"Not too hard," she reminded.
He could feel his sphincter straining, though the poop was starting to come back.
As she felt it herself, she went deeper in. When he'd stop pushing, her finger ran circles around to push for him.
His toes curled. Barry tried hard not to clench his hole around her finger. Though he knew she'd understand, he had a compulsive need to avoid displeasing her.
She asked, "Does it hurt?"
"No." It was actually feeling good, with the stimulation and the fact this hard stool was coming out.
Her finger prodded lightly. The chunk of stool was making its way out of the sphincter, she could feel it on her knuckle. The stool was rough, hard as a boulder, and came with a thick layer of mucus.
"I'll assume you've been constipated. You should be drinking more water, for all the food you eat."
Barry pushed harder. Diana's hand was on his belly to relax him a little but her finger made him want to push.
The poop wasn't as large as it seemed. Diana had much experience helping people with health and even plumbing incidents, however she was shocked by how thick and hard of a stool he was trying to pass. She was scared to hurt him but she couldn't blame him for pushing hard enough to crap his guts out.
A huge sigh came from him as he sunk into the bed and closed his eyes. Diana's finger was out of him. The stool had gotten through his sphincter and was bulging in his rectum. She gave him a moment of mercy, rubbing his belly.
When he had the energy to open his eyes, they went back to her. She was changing her glove, uncomfortable with reentering with a filthy glove. The old one was inside out on the basin. She hadn't even looked at it before folding the wrist shut. The finger of it was coated in a yellow mucus and what appeared to be brown or black chunks.
"Are you ready to push again?" She slowly slid her fingertip into his anus, to open it up. Her other hand held his cheeks back to help spread.
He was hesitant. Was she absolutely sure? There was no way he'd do this without pooping on her hand. Not regarding the glove between her skin and the poop.
She massaged around, to make him want to push. "It's alright, Barry. Get it out."
It took only a few pushes, with her guiding it out. He sunk back into the bed. He was comforted by the sound of the stool finally hitting the bowl, and her pulling the pack of wipes open. She very gently brushed a wipe along his butt to collect diarrhea. The wipe felt smooth, he didn't even care that it was cold on his bare skin.
She smiled. "These wipes have shea butter. It'll be beneficial for your skin." Diana placed the wipe in the bedpan, then removed the bedpan from between his legs. She grabbed another wipe and started cleaning mucus from his anus.
He moaned. The cold, luscious wipe felt amazing on his sore anus. The very faint scent was so relaxing.
Diana felt badly for having cut his bath short. She took a wipe to his scrotum, as carefully as she's ever been on anything. Lightly moving the skin around, especially getting underneath, where sweat has been building up. She gently gripped his member and cleaned around the catheter, quickly before he could get hard again. "Let's get your pants off and wipe down your legs."
Covering him back up with the towel, she went to the counter to grab the folded pants and boxers. "Would you like some new socks?"
"No." He didn't have the energy to worry about them being put on correctly.