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Just What the Doctor Ordered – Chapter Eleven (Commission)
🕑 Added 2022-04-24 23:01:00 +0000 UTCThanks as always to our awesome Gold-Tier patron CleverSissy for commissioning this one!
***
Today is D-Day. For today – that day circled in blue on my personal planner, and about which I've been getting almost daily reminders on my phone – is Doctor Day. The day when I take my dear baby-hubby Kennie to see Dr. Liu… and find out what she has to say about all the wonderful developments I've been witnessing over the last few weeks.
I'm humming softly as I bustle around the kitchen, practiced now as a virtuoso musician running through their favorite piece. Formula out. Add the fiber. Dose with electrolytes. Affix the tube like so. Make sure all the air's out. Swing it up into place, ready and waiting for my sweetheart. And then on to fix my own adult breakfast of eggs and toast…
He's so freaking adorable, isn't he! Folks say that you get tired of things eventually – that after awhile the novelty wears off, the fantasy fades, the grind of daily life dispels all the charm that even the most romantic things once had. But somehow, that hasn't proven true for me – at least, not yet. I still melt a little inside every single morning when I pull back the covers and kiss his sleepy face and whisper that it's time for baby to wake up. I still shiver with delight as he blinks awake, and sits up in his soggy and soiled nighttime diaper, and glances up into my eyes with such simple, mute trust and affection.
Kennie is my husband, yes. But he's also my baby now: my sweet, trusting, innocent baby who depends on me for every little thing.
"We've got a big day ahead of us!" I enthuse as he sits there, still clearly sleepy, with his feeding tube connected and draining its lovely warm contents into his hungry belly. "It's time to see Dr. Liu today, Kennie! She's gonna take a look at you and see how you're doing, okay? I'm sure she's gonna be super happy to see how well you've been taking to your formula!"
"Mmm-hmmm…?" He's not very talkative these days, and when he does talk, the pacifier that's almost always in his mouth distorts everything into the endearingly inarticulate babble of a toddler. "Oh, don't worry, baby!" I beam, easing the bag up and helping the last drops of formula drain down the tube and into his nose. "She's super nice, remember? Now, let's hurry up and get you all changed and dressed. We don't want to be late for your appointment, now, do we?"
***
Of course, thanks to my efficiency and planning, we're not late. Even with the morning traffic, it's still five minutes before our appointment time when I ease our car into the parking spot and help my husband clamber out from the back seat in his adorable shortalls and dinosaur t-shirt. And before he has a chance to become nervous at the thought of someone seeing him out here dressed like such a sweet – and visibly bulgy-bottomed – toddler, we're inside and being ushered back the hall to Dr. Liu's examination room by her knowingly smiling receptionist.
"Good morning, Rebecca! And good morning, Kennie! Aww, it's so good to see you! Goodness, those are some awesome shoes, aren't they? Looks like they light up and everything!"
Bless Dr. Liu for being such a sweet and knowledgeable doctor. She knows exactly how to send Kennie tumbling down into that Littlespace he loves so much – and I can practically watch him shrink down into a shyly giggling two-year-old as she guides him onto the examination table and begins his physical.
"Oh, yes – very regular," I respond to her queries about his toileting. "Maybe five or six times every 24 hours. And of course he's drinking so well that I've had to use those nighttime diapers on him during the day, too." I'm chuckling as he, now stripped down to just his diaper, blushes visibly behind his pacifier. "He's my sweet little firehose – always leaking these days!"
"Any skin issues or diaper rashes?" "Only a little one about a week ago," I respond, watching with an indulgent smile as my hubby obediently spreads his bare thighs and watches, mutely suckling his pacifier, while the doctor's gloved hands slip expertly over his skin. "We go through lots of powder and lotion these days. And luckily he hasn't had any srious allergic reactions…"
"Well, I'm so happy to see how he's progressing," the doctor smiles, guiding him off the table and herding him, hand on diaper-butt, gently onto the scale against the wall. "He's clearly much more hydrated now, and I can already tell that he's at a much healthier weight…" She glances at the scale, then down at her chart, then over at me with a bright nod. "Ah, see that? That's a good twenty pounds more – and no more than half of that can be water weight. You've done really well, guys!"
And then I pop the question I've been both hoping and dreading to have answered. "So, um… Kennie has been asking me about going back to big-boy food. When do you think he's, um, going to be ready?"
"Oh, you mean the feeding tube? Great question!" the doctor tells me, guiding my hubbie back to the table and flashing us both a smile. "Now, as far as the tube itself, it could potentially come out right now. But there are a few other considerations first. See, we'll have to discuss what the end goal is for the two of you, and then we will need to discuss exactly how and when we're going to transition toward that goal…"
She lays it out in simple terms that even he, gazing on in quiet wonder, can understand. In order to maintain his new and far more healthy state, he needs to keep consuming a rich and liquid-heavy diet even after the tube is out. Plus, when transitioning from the tube feedings, in order not to shock his system we will need to start exercising his mouth and throat, preferably by giving him some feedings with a sippy cup or bottle.
"Umm… I'm not sure what you are going to think about this…" But I have to say it. It's what I've been secretly working on, and what I know my little hubby secretly wants as well. It's not for nothing that I've tested him as he drifts to sleep, observing the contented little sighs and grunts he gives as he latches on to my warm, nourishing-
"I've been inducing lactation for a good while now." Why is the doctor's face not a picture of shock as I blurt out my guilty secret? "I, um, I read online about techniques for stimulating it. And I found some herbal supplements, and we've, um, we've been practicing a bit sometimes…" Does Kennie even remember? Judging by the puzzled wonder in his eyes right now, I suppose he must have simply thought it was a dream, or simply sexy play…
"Oh, that's simply wonderful!" Dr. Liu is reaching over and patting my shoulder, a wide and knowing smile on her face. "That's perfect! Breast milk is going to be a perfect transitional food for him, Rebecca; obviously not for his entire diet, but certainly as a supplement. It will help exercise his mouth and throat, and together with the formula and eventually some solid foods, it's going to be so very good for him. In that case, I don't see any reason not to take the tube out now…"
I'm blushing now, my stomach somersaulting in quiet glee, my entire being tingling with motherly pride at the doctor's word. I'm being such a good mommy-wife for him. I can nourish him, feed him, bond with him in perhaps the most intimate and joyful ways known to humankind… And yes, the doctor is talking now about the eventual goals of working him back to solid food. But I'm agreeing instinctively with her about the relaxed time frame. Even without the tube, there's definitely no rush. No target date. Slow and steady. He's so much healthier now, and there's no reason to hurry to fix something that isn't broken…
***
It's so strange not to see that feeding tube in my dear one's nose now, though!
He seems to think so, too. I'm gazing down at him now, reveling in our first supper without the feeding bag and tube beside me. I'm tucking into my steak and potatoes and roasted asparagus, smiling down behind my fork at my sweetheart reclining beside me. It's a novel sort of seating arrangement, I suppose: a giant bean bag chair beside the table, perfect for a reclining little baby suckling hungrily at his ba-ba full of creamy formula…
And suckle he does! He's gazing back at me, his lips and mouth working just as steadily and rhythmically on the teat of his over-sized bottle as they have learned to do on his dummy for all these past weeks. "Good boy!" I praise with an indulgent smile, reaching down and ruffling his hair affectionately. "Now remember – gotta drink both of your ba-ba's before getting your dessert!"
It's a tall order – or it would be, if not for the fact that his tummy has been used to massive influxes of formula for weeks now. That bottle is 24 ounces, which means one full bottle of his usual formula-laxative-electrolyte mixture now should be just about right, and then one with his sleepytime formula right before bed. And then… ah, then. The dessert is what he really wants – and what, even as he gulps and burps and gulps again like a hungry infant, we both know he's going to get.
He's such a good baby hubby, after all.
It's after he's bathed and dressed for bed once more that he finally gets his dessert. "Such a good baby," I breathe, as the second oversized, pastel bottle drains and his suckling mouth draws a chorus of wet little gasps from the empty nipple. "Such a good, hungry baby… Now, then. Come on, you know what you really want, don't you?"
Did I mention I just happened to slip into my filmy baby-doll nightgown while he was drinking his bottle?
His eyelids are already fluttering against the drowsy weight of medicated sleep, but even so I can see the mute, infantile longing growing in his eyes. "Go on… open up, darling…" I can't stop the little gasp of pleasure that escapes me as his warm, milky lips close around my tensing left nipple. He's suckling. My little, darling hubby is in my arms- nestled close- shamelessly and eagerly suckling at my breast. Like the beautiful, innocent baby he has become. Like the dearest, most adoring little infant that I could ever imagine-
Is it strange that I'm trembling with the wet heat of arousal as the seconds tick by?
I'm breathless, pulling him closer in the warm glow of the evening night. He's teasing me so exquisitely, you see: his lips so smooth and rhythmic against my sensitive breast, his muffled little moans and grunts of sleepy pleasure sounding like heavenly music in my ears. My left arm is cradling him, my right slipping down over his sleeper-clad form, delighting in the hidden but palpable shift between the curve of his tummy and the soft bulk of his double diaper bulging out around his waist. Somewhere beneath that bulk is his dribbling, leaky penis: probably hardening in helpless pleasure and longing, and yet so wholly subservient to the constraints of his new condition.
He's not my man right now. He's my baby – firmly under my control, and subservient to anything and everything I decide to do with him. And yet somehow, even as a baby he's bringing just as much and even more pleasure than his manly self ever could.
Oh, baby- Darling, yes. Suckle, drink deep. Take your fill. Suckle and gulp and fill your precious baby tummy. You're so sweet, so helpless, so precious and dependent on me! Oh, yes- yes, please. It feels so heavenly, so incredible when you do that! You're nestling close, adoring me, needing me so. And I need you, too, Kennie. I need you- my baby- my darling- You're bring me such… pleasure. Such intense, mind-blowing pleasure- Yes, yes, please, just like that! Ohh, darling- Yes, yes, just a bit more-
Is it strange when I shudder and explode into a quiet orgasm – just from the incredible sensation of my darling Kennie nursing at my breast?
Maybe it is. But god, I don't freaking care. My husband is content, and I am glowing with pleasure, and in this moment I don't ever, ever want this beautiful dynamic of ours to end.
