Breeding Dylan

Chapter 39: The Milk

"Dylan [Deee-lahn]." Tareq shook me gently. "You are shaking... Dylan?"

"The what?" I answered sleepily. I was sleeping on his bare chest. The room was dark except for a few strands of moonlight peeking through the curtains.

It must have been late because the house was quiet and the bed was super warm.

"You shake like is too cold. You feel wet. You feel sickness, my love?" He started to sit up and ease me off his chest.

The cold air hit me like a shock as he raised me from his warm cocoon.

"Oh, shivering. You mean shivering... I'm wet?" I sat up and he pointed to my chest.

"Oh! Is your milk. Look. Is here." Tareq slid up my shirt to show my nipples were hard and wet with a cold, sticky substance.

"Oh, no! Yuck. It's too early. We're getting married this week. I can't be making milk already," I panicked. I felt like a gross monster that had crawled into his bed.

"The doctor warns us yesterday. He say is normal and we expect this. Is not yuck. Is your beautiful body making our child," Tareq reminded me. He tried his best to celebrate every weird development.

"He said maybe in a week or two," I sighed. I wasn't ready for this. My pecs had filled in and my bíceps were getting a good tone. I was morphing into someone I didn't recognize, and now this.

The day before, we'd gone to the 10-week check-up with Sai and Dr. Rammat. The Hamads stayed away so we could spend it with Tareq's parents and make a special day of it.

Everything had gone well with the check-up. I was gaining muscle and baby Ahmed was now the size of a plum. When Dr. Rammat pulled up the scan, we caught baby Ahmed moving his right arm as if waving at us. He tried to get a video of little Ahmed waving, but it was so quick and he wouldn't do it on command.

"I check your nipples." Tareq reached for the hem of my t-shirt and slid it up. I raised my arms for him to take it off.

"Cold." I started to shiver again as the air conditioning hit my damp chest.

Tareq used my shirt to wipe my chest gently. He kissed my cheek and tried to make me feel like this was normal. He went towards the bedside table and pulled out a large towel. 

"Lie down. I fix this." he got up on his knees and helped me up. He laid out the towel and then guided me to lie in the warm spot he'd left on the mattress. He pulled the covers up to my stomach and then leaned over me to bring his warmth.

"My pecs feel heavy," I noted. 

"Your muscles get bigger. You go from twink to twunk. It look so nice," he joked.

"The workouts have been intense, but I feel good. It's kinda cool, but my nipples definitely hurt. I don't think they were built for this." I put his hand on my right pec. He rubbed it gently and looked at me with sadness. He always wanted to take away my problems.

"They are full. We see the technique in the video. You must express the milk from them or they will not feel better. Is ok I squeeze and suck them? You will not sleep if you are leaking," he reasoned.

"Uhhh huh," I whined when he started to squeeze my nipples. It relieved some of the pressure, but also let out a few drops of the milk. "Yes, please."

"Your pecs are swollen with the milk. I will relieve you so we can sleep." He gave another gentle squeeze and it started to dribble out.

The baby book encouraged us to use this as a bonding process. It was supposed to be pleasing for the mate and help to bond him to the pregnant partner. It seemed kind of weird, but Tareq was into it. I just hoped it didn't taste weird.