The Lactating Man!

 

Somebody's got to feed the baby!

 

 

Plus the Bonus Story...

 

I Gave My Man Boobs!

 

He asked for it!

 

 

Grace Mansfield

 

© Copyright Grace Mansfield

 

The right of Grace Mansfield to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

 

All rights reserved.

 

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

 

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

 

This electronic book published by 4Play Press

4Play Press is an imprint of Fiction4All

www.a1adultebooks.com

 

 

The Lactating Man!

 

Somebody's got to feed the baby!

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

"Honey, we've got a problem." I called to Robert from the bedroom.

He was watching Fox News, mesmerized by the screen and the conspiracies and Shannon Bream. Hey, I don't care who he lusts after, as long as he takes it out on me.

"Can't it wait?" He called back.

"Not for nine months!"

That got his attention. He was standing in the bedroom doorway faster than you can change channels. "What?"

"I said we've got a problem."

"You said something about nine months? What was that?"

"I don't consider being pregnant a problem."

His face was frozen for a moment, then it broke out in a bright shiny grin, and suddenly he was hugging me. "For real! For serious! You aren't kidding?"

"Nope," I held on to him and he picked me up and whirled me around, then stopped and a look of panic came across his face.

"Oh, I can't do that."

"Oh, hell. You can do that. Just be careful. When I start looking like I've eaten a watermelon, that's when you have to get real careful."

He grabbed me in a hug again, though a bit subdued, and danced around the room. "We're pregnant! We're pregnant! We're pregnant!"

He chanted endlessly, and I held on and enjoyed it. We had been trying for several years, and this was it. Pregnant at last.

Then he stopped, held me still and got very serious. "What problem?"

"Well, you remember how you wanted me to have my boobs enhanced?"

He looked confused. "Yeah?"

"And you remember how I didn't really want to do it?"

"Yeah?"

"But I did it anyway?"

"And that was great! You really look great! And you have to admit...it spiced up our love life. And if it wasn't for that...maybe you wouldn't have even gotten pregnant."

"I understand all that."

"Then what's the problem."

"I talked to mother, and she pointed out that women with implants lose the ability to nurse."

"What?" A look of concern. "But you don't have that problem. You can't have that problem!"

I gave him a look and waited.

"Oh my God! You can't have milk? Can't you nurse? You have to be able to nurse! We've been planning on it!"

"There was a price for these big cannons."

He stepped back from me and looked at my bazooms, and I mean really looked.

Yes, I had agreed to the surgery. And he didn't even have to bend my arm. What woman doesn't want to look better?

But now there was a consequence. One he hadn't planned on.

"Well, can't we get another operation? Have them reduced?"

"Doesn't work that way."

"We can hire a wet nurse!"

"Some other woman breast feeding my baby? I don't think so."

"Then your mother..." and he stopped.

I shook my head. "My mother would have to lactate. And she's a little old for that."

"Lactate." He pondered. "Breast feed. Milk." Then he looked at me. "What will we do?"

"Oh, the solution is really simple."

"It is?" he brightened up.

"Of course."

"What is it?"

"You."

He blinked. "Me?"

I smiled.

"Me what?"

"You are going to nurse our baby."

"Me? What? No! What are you...are you serious? Men can't nurse!"

"Au contraire, mon ami. Do a little Googling, look up 'galactorrhea,' then come back and see me."

"I don't have the breasts. One needs breasts to produce breast milk."

I smiled. "Ah, but you do. Do a little Googling, then come back and see me."

"But I can't produce milk! Even if I had breasts!"

I smiled wider. "Men can produce milk. Do a little Googling, then come back and see me."

"But my body's not built for it! Male bodies can't have babies!"

"We're not talking about having babies. We're talking about a little breast milk. And if you can have tits and produce milk, then you can breast feed. Do a little Googling and-"

"I know," he grouched. "Come back and see you."

With that he was out of the room. Like the roadrunner. And I heard the computer fire up a couple of seconds later.

Dum de dum de dum. I folded underwear and put them away. I thought about all the things we were going to have to do.

First was me. I had to change my lifestyle and get ready to spit out a brat. Cool. I looked forward to that. Made me all warm and fuzzy.

Second was Robert. We were going to have to get him hormones, and medicines, and doctors and even psychiatrists. Apparently a woman can risk her life for a baby and nobody cares, but if a man wants to have breasts, oh, Lordie!

Ten minutes later he came back into the room. His head was hanging and he was in deep thought. He stood there without saying a word.

"Well?" I asked.

He looked up. "You're right. But...but it's not right!"

"Why not?"

"Because that's woman's work."

"So you can never use a vacuum, and women can never use a hammer and saw. Yes, I understand...that's pretty logical."

Ha! Hoisted on his own petard. Whatever a petard was.

"No, I didn't mean that!"

"What did you mean?" I was all innocence and happy smiles.

"Well, to grow breasts I have to take hormones, and it will change my body."

"Yes, I understand that. Having bigger boobs definitely changed my body."

"You're twisting my words!"

"Your words are already twisted enough, or at least your logic is. Yes, you can take estrogen for a while, do the nursing, then stop, and those changes all reverse."

He didn't have much to say to that. Funny thing is, I was using some of the same logic he used on me when he persuaded me to have my breasts enhanced.

He just turned around and walked away. That surprised me, and it didn't. It was unlike him, which surprised me, but I knew he needed time to grok it all.

I finished putting away the laundry, then I went down the hall to the room we had planned to make into a nursery.

It was yellow, waiting for a decision as to whether pink or blue. There was a space for a crib in one corner, and we already had a rocking chair. Mother had brought that down as soon as I told her we were trying to have a baby. It had sat there, gathering dust, for three years, but now, at last, it was going to see some duty.

I sighed in happiness, then I turned and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Robert was sitting in the living room. His head was down and he was in the deepest thought I had ever seen. If I didn't know better I would have thought it was a funk.

I entered the kitchen, got down a couple of flutes from the cupboard and put them on the table. Then I took out the champagne. Hundred dollars a bottle. We had planned on opening it when we got pregnant. And here we were.

I unwrapped the foil, then the twisty wire. I started edging the cork out. It was starting to work its way out and I stepped into the living room.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" I yelled. And, POP!

I turned quickly and poured the champagne into the flutes.

By the time I had the glasses filled Robert was leaning against the side of the arch that separated the living room from the dining room.

I didn't say a word. I just grinned at him, and handed him a flute.

We stood there for the longest time. He trying to de-funk himself. Me waiting. A sassy grin plastered across my noble face.

Finally, he shook his head, and the teensiest grin crept across his face.

"I'm really fucked on this, aren't I?"

"I got tits for you...now it's your turn to get tits for me," I agreed.

He lifted a glass, we clinked. And he said, "Here's to titties."

And that was the start.