It was already a fairly nice area of town, but the development that I visited was absolutely breathtaking. The walk up to the apartment number I’d scrawled down was along a floating breezeway overlooking an artificial lake. I ascended a small staircase and knocked on the first door in the row, 263. A tall, exhausted, black-haired man in gray slacks and a light blue shirt promptly answered the door with a smile.
“Hey there! So you’re Brenda, right? Thank you so much for coming. Please, come in.”
I gingerly stepped in, and took a look around. It was soft, blue morning – natural light poured out of the two giant oval windows. The living room was messy, but you could tell this guy had money. The place was filled with dark, bold colors, expensive mahogany, and leather. He continued to speak as I surveyed my surroundings.
“I know this is pretty strange, but I’m really appreciative of it. Really. Thanks so much.”
I looked him over with a glint of suspicion. What kind of person lives somewhere like this, but is soliciting girls on the internet for cheap cash favors?
“Um. It’s not a problem. You’re really going to pay me for this?”
His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like I’d just popped a balloon in his face. He frantically shuffled around in his pockets for a moment.
“Yes, yes! Sorry. Absolutely. Two hundred, as promised in the ad.” He shoved the crisp bills into my hand and smiled at me expectantly.
I didn’t know what he wanted from me. “Ah… Okay. I’m honestly a little bit nervous about doing something like this. How do we proceed?”
He looked confused. “Oh. Oh! You think I wanted to do it? N-no. It’s nothing sexual. You’re going to feed my… My baby. In the next room over.”
Although this just raised further questions, a small wave of relief washed over me. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to indulging some horndog’s fetish. “Okay, sure… But why ask for this over the internet, for cash? Can’t you get these kinds of, uh, services… through more official channels?”
His face grew more serious. “No. This is the best arrangement for us.”
Okay, that’s weird. But two hundred dollars is two hundred dollars. “Right. Okay. Don’t want to pry. Should I get on with it, then?”
He motioned for me to enter the room. “Yes, now please. If you don’t mind.”
The room was hardwood, and completely bare, save for two Rocky Balboa posters, and a crib in the middle of the room. No bright colors, no toys, no nursery mobile, no gentle music. I carefully approached the crib, uncertain of its contents.
Inside was a small infant in a yellow onesie. Innocuous. To my surprise, there didn’t appear to be any bedding, or even a blanket. He sat with his small stubby legs crossed, sitting in a corner, idly patting his thighs. He was completely silent, and appeared to be 4-6 months old. He looked up to me and smiled.
“It’s alright, go ahead.” The man rattled in a near-whisper. Odd, I hadn’t heard him come up behind me.
As a 23 year old, I also hadn’t yet come to grips with the concept of having children, or even interacting with babies. I didn’t quite know how to approach this, what to do next, how any of this even really worked, but my wet bra was telling a different story.
The doctor had told me it was more or less just a hormonal fluke, and it’d pass in a few weeks. It was annoying, but my sister had jokingly told me I could cash in on it. Ashley’s a skank. An awful, genius skank. When I saw this ad, I realized it was the perfect opportunity.
I reflected upon how ridiculous this entire situation was while unbuttoning the top of my shirt and gently scooping up the toddler. I could feel the man’s eyes scrutinizing me as I awkwardly pulled down my bra and pushed the baby’s head towards my left nipple. To my surprise, I immediately felt very strong suction.
I stood in the middle of the room, beside the crib, my poor boob aching. Was this thing in my arms a baby, or a vampire? The man behind me continued to watch from behind intently, his breathing seeming to grow more labored. “The feeding should last about half an hour. Don’t skimp.”
I was about to ask for a place to sit, when I suddenly heard a muffled, masculine voice coming from my bosom.
“Mmm, oh yeah.”
Startled, I jolted backwards. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. I looked down at the infant in my arms, and nothing seemed amiss. He innocently smiled at me once more.
The next thing I heard was the distinct click of a gun being cocked. I slowly, hesitantly looked up to find a pistol barrel leveled squarely at my head.
The man’s face was cold and hard. “Keep going.” he growled.
I complied, and for several minutes, there was silence. The man continued to hold me at gunpoint, and my poor nipple was still being abused by this odd little tyrant. To my surprise, he was drawing out quite a bit of milk.
I peered down at the infant suckling my breast. The baby spoke once again in a distinct, heavy New York accent that I couldn’t quite place.
“Yeah! Oh, fuck yes. That’s some good shit.”
Was I losing my mind? I said nothing, nervously glancing at my captor. I switched breasts. The
“Ah, yeah. Love this! Tangy. Sweet. You one’a them bitches that eat a lotta fruit?”
The man in gray slacks moved the pistol closer to my face. “Answer him.”
I had no idea what to do. “I-I am quite fond of grapefruit.”
“Grapefruit, eh? Real fruity. I liiiike, I like.”
He continued to suckle for several minutes. I didn’t believe there was actually any correlation between diet and breast milk flavor.
“Are you satisfied yet, Ernest?” The man inquired, softly.
The infant sounded annoyed. “Give a guy a second, will ya? Cripes.”
“Ernest” finished a few moments later. I gently laid him back down in the crib, and was then shuttled out of the condo, still topless, with the pistol in my back.
The door slammed loudly behind me, and I was left alone.
My boobs were very sore.
Although I was two hundred dollars richer, I resolved to stay off of the internet for a couple of days.