Chapter Twenty-One
It was the following morning, while the couple was lying in bed, cuddling after another nursing session, that Dylan said, “So that’s what you’ve been up to?”
Teagan giggled. “Yeah.”
“How did you do it?” he asked. “Like, how did you just make yourself start producing milk?”
“I saw a specialist,” she said. “A doctor who prescribed pills. I also had to pump every day on a set schedule.”
“So that’s why you’ve been disappearing to our closet at random times!” he said.
“Uh-huh. Only they weren’t random. Like I said, it was a set schedule. That helped train my body to make milk, tricking it into thinking it was needed. Of course, the medicine went a long way, too. And when we got here, some of the other Mommies really encouraged me and showed me the ropes.” She shrugged a little. “I’m not saying they made it happen, but I am saying some of it is mental. Mixed with a lot of help from those pills and various supplements.”
Dylan thought about it all. He hugged her even tighter and said, “You did all that just for me?”
She kissed the top of his head and held him. “My baby boy is worth it. I wanted to show you that I accept you. More than that, I don’t just tolerate you like you are. I love you like you are. I’m glad you’re a Little, honey. I get to be your Mommy. Sounds like the perfect life to me.” She shifted out from under him, rested her elbow on the mattress and propped her head up on her closed fist as she looked at him. She stroked his cheek. “Dylan, I’ve been worried about you. The job is getting to you. You need Little Space more. Not less. Please don’t keep fighting it.”
He considered her words and slowly nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I probably can’t even articulate the shame and guilt I have. Since the military, this feeling that I always have to be tough is so…engrained…in me. It’s like a prison sometimes.”
Teagan nodded. At moments like this, she never rushed him or filled the silence. She simply gave him the time he needed.
“And in the back of my mind,” he said after a few seconds, “there’s always this nagging fear that you won’t truly accept me. That you just go along with it. But that it—Little Space—chips away at…the image you have of me. Does that make any sense?”
“It does,” she said. “But it’s not true and I’m sorry you feel that way.” She smiled and cupped her hanging breast with her free hand. “Maybe this went a little way in dispelling that fear.” She winked.
He giggled.
“It was never anything you did,” he said. “It’s just my own self-doubt. It’s hard to let go of.”
“I know,” she said.
“But sucking on your booby sure helps.”
She released a short burst of laughter. “My booby?”
He was blushing as he nodded.
She laid back and cupped both breasts. “Then come here, baby boy. Suck on my boobies some more…”
***
Little Dylan was quite full as he skipped happily through Mountainville.
Could life get any better? At the moment, at least. He was in the best town on earth. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. He had friends to play with. Teagan was enjoying her community of Mommies. And to top it all off, Mommy was lactating!
There was just that pesky problem of his job back home.
With that in mind, he strolled in the firehouse and saw a few guys sitting around a table, eating breakfast. A TV was on in the sitting area.
Dylan suddenly grew self-conscious. He was in jeans and a button-down flannel shirt, but was the bulk of his diaper noticeable? And how about that crinkle? Here he was, around a bunch of tough, manly firemen, and he was padded up like a little baby.
If anyone noticed or cared, they didn’t give any indication.
“Hey, man. What’s going on? Everything okay?” one of the guys said.
He was a muscular Black man with close-cropped hair. He, like Dylan, had that former military look about him.
He was probably a Daddy. All the firefighters were probably Daddies.
Maybe Dylan’s plan wouldn’t work after all.
Dude, don’t back out now. You’ve come this far. You can’t get this idea off your mind. Just explore it and see what happens. It won’t hurt to at least have the conversation.
“Yeah, everything’s good,” Dylan said. “Sorry to interrupt breakfast.”
“Everyone’s always welcome in here,” another guy said. He was less muscular, and though he was sitting down, Dylan could see he probably wasn’t as tall as the other guys was. He had a crew cut and a mustache.
“Crazy there’s a football game on Wednesday morning,” Dylan said, looking past them and at the TV. He didn’t really know what to say, so he was stalling.
“Yeah. Just some smaller college teams. Being a holiday week, they’re running football every day, I think,” the Black man said. “But I’ll watch it all. Football is football. Know what I mean?”
Dylan thought of mentioning that he’d played in college. But he stopped himself.
You don’t have to prove you’re manly. Just calm down.
“I hear that,” he said. “Hey, is Bradley around? I was going to chat with him a minute.”
“You bet,” the guy said. “Chief? You have a visitor,” he called out.
A moment later, Bradley appeared in a doorway over to the side of the big, open-air room.
“You see, he thinks he’s hot shit. Thinks he should have his own room,” the Black man said.
The other guys laughed.
Dylan laughed with them. He knew it was just good-natured razzing. Cops did the same thing. Military guys did it, too. Busting balls was just part of it.
“I am hot shit,” Bradley said. He looked over to Dylan. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Do you have a minute?” Dylan asked.
“You bet. You want to chat in here?” Bradley jerked his head to indicate his room behind him.
“Sure,” Dylan said.
You’re doing good. Just put one foot in front of the other. You’ve done scarier stuff than this. Keep going…
He was nervous but he tried to appear as calm and collected as possible. He had no idea where this conversation would lead, but he had to get some things off his chest and Bradley seemed like a cool guy to talk to.
Dylan needed to make some changes in his life and he was going to start right now.