Milk For His Little (The Lactin Brotherhood #12)

3. Kasper

Chapter 3

Kasper

Ever since I realized that buying milk was an option, it wouldn’t leave my head. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought of it. Maybe because I assumed all of the milk was for babies and it was best not to take from them? That was before I put two and two together about men lactating enough to sell their supply. Unlike with moms, whose milk came in for their young, men lactated because their bodies simply did. And sure, some of that milk went to babies, but from what I was able to read online, most of it went down the drain. What a waste!

Try as I could, focusing on anything other than getting some for my bottle wasn’t happening. I went to the grocery store—and the gallons on the shelf brought me right back to that first ad. When I was at work and people talked about their plans for the weekend, my mind went straight to falling asleep with a bottle. Pretty much every moment of every day, I was thinking about it.

Finally, I managed to get brave enough, and I just did it. Just being a bit of an exaggeration. I spent a ton of time on the app, but getting to the app was the first big step, and if I had a Daddy, he’d be proud of me for taking it.

The interface was easy enough, but that didn’t make the decision any simpler. Reading through the listings, trying to find one where the person didn’t seem like a scammer, sounded like no big deal. Shocker: the site was full of people who were sketchy. Some had prices that were too good to be true, or they wanted money through unsecured internet sites in order to hold your spot in line. Yeah, I didn’t need any of that in my life.

It took a while to find some sellers I felt comfortable with, ones who had reviews that felt sincere and had been around longer than a week. A couple of people caught my eyes and had really good ratings, but they also had waitlists for new customers. Now that I had decided to take the leap, waiting wasn’t an option. If I had a Daddy, he’d tell me to be patient, and he’d be right. But I didn’t, so impatient I was.

Some sellers specifically said they were only willing to sell to bodybuilders, which told me they were probably ingesting some things I didn’t want in my body. A few actually included what those supplements were, and thanks but no thanks to that. If the bodybuilders were into that stuff, they could have it.

But finally, I found a seller that I thought looked good. Their ratings were solid, they’d been on the app a long time, and they made a note that they reserved the right to cancel if someone needed it, mentioning emergency foster placements as an example. To me that shouted that he was a good guy. Not that I needed to buy from someone nice, but I preferred it.

I pulled up his profile and sent him a message saying I was interested in his product. It was uncomfortable thinking of something his body made naturally as a product. I refrained from the word in my correspondence, but the term kept hitting me, giving me pause, like maybe I shouldn’t be doing this after all. Only he wouldn’t be selling it if he didn’t want to, right?

He responded back within the hour, and after some brief negotiations, mostly about time and location, my order was placed. I could barely get to sleep that night, so excited about my purchase. It was going to be a long day waiting until I could go and get it from him even if I wasn’t exhausted, and based on seeing three am before I finally dozed off, I was going to be.

The next day after work, instead of going straight home like I normally did, I went across town and pulled up in front of a stranger's house.

It was the stuff horror movies were made of. You didn’t just randomly go to somebody’s house—you met in public. Anyone could be behind a screen.

But something about this guy, in our brief messages, had me feeling safe. So I agreed to come here so the milk would stay temperature-controlled. No one wanted to buy spoiled milk.

I reached up, knocked on the door, and my jaw nearly fell when he opened it—he being the hot Daddy from the club that I had a crush the size of my apartment building on.

“I—I’m here for milk.” Gods, this was so embarrassing.

“Is this like a bodybuilder thing?” His question caught me off guard.

I was confused how he didn’t know the answer already. He’d seen me at the club; he knew what I was into. I was a Little.

Maybe this was just the protocol for buying milk from lactating men?

I shook my head. “I—I’ve seen you at the club. I don’t know if you’ve seen me, but I’m Little, and I want it for my bottle.” I’d met his eyes a time or two, but me remembering him wasn’t the same as me being memorable to him.

“I see.” He stood, looking at me, not speaking. “Well, I hope you enjoy it. Did you want me to bring it to you, or do you want to come inside?”

“I’ll come in.” I had an insulated tote with me, filled with ice packs that I’d kept in the freezer at work all day. I followed him inside and told him how I’d been wanting a bottle for a long time, but I was allergic to cow’s milk, and the substitutes didn’t do it for me. I figured, why not tell him everything. If anyone would understand, it would be a Daddy.

“I can see why this would be good for a boy.” He loaded the frozen milk into my thermal bag.

“Is your Little gonna be upset that I’m using this?” I hadn’t thought of that. If he had a partner, they might look at a Little taking the milk differently than a bodybuilder or an infant. He hadn’t brought anyone to the club that I’d seen, but it wasn’t like I was there daily.

“Oh, I don’t have a Little. Littles don’t want a Daddy who—” he pointed to his chest, “you know.”

I didn’t know why he thought that. It sounded like the perfect scenario to me.

I looked in the bag, then back at him. The bag was filled with cold, far-from-the-source, machine-collected milk, and yet there he was, able to provide it directly from the source. I blinked the thought away. He didn’t need me standing here drooling at the thought of him, naked in front of me. Nope. This was a business transaction, nothing more.

“I think that’s exactly the kind of Daddy a Little would want,” I said quietly.

I zipped up the bag, thanked him again, and went on my way, excited to try my new bottle, a little disappointed it was going to be from a freezer bag and not my crush.