Chapter Text
Nudging the glass door to the neonatal ward shut behind her with her foot, Stephanie Breckenridge, LVN, crossed to the deep, faux-leather armchair next to the medical bed with its wood-paneled entertainment center and vase of fake and fragrance-free flowers. Very plush, almost like a hotel room without the hard white plastic and LED screens of medical equipment secreted about the place. There was still the same unique scent of antiseptic and hard scrubbing that was inescapable in a properly run hospital, something Steph would be glad to once more grow sense-blind as she settled back into her job. Getting paid to spend all day with children sometimes felt a little unfair to the hospital, especially when they were as adorable as the one she carried.
Cradling her precious cargo against her chest, she moved just as she had across the natal ward’s waxed floors on her way to the room, a slow, easy pace without ups, downs, or sways from side to side. Just one smooth ride for a fragile baby boy named Bobby No-Last-Name. At times when she used the trick in sight of others, she had been advised on one occasion that it was impossible to violate the “whole Conservation of Energy thing,” and on several that it made her “fat ass swing.” One time, it had practically gotten her pregnant...
“There we go, my little man,” Stephanie said with a hush in her voice, settling back into the deep armchair with a shallow sigh of relaxation. This was her favorite part. She knew some women could not wait for nursing to end, and it was a chore that would become unnecessary some day. That reticence was one of the major reasons why rooms like this one existed, a place for newly arrived children to bond with their mothers in quiet and comfort. For her, though, it was the perfect excuse to claim the comfiest chair available, put her feet up, and let a sweet baby be nourished by her.
“Allll-right, we’re allll set...” Drawing the loose-knit blanket over her shoulder, she made a tent around her head to give the pair of them some privacy, despite the emptiness of the room and the quiet of the ward outside. Looking down at the tiny infant in her arms, his whole body dwarfed by one of her milk-swollen C-cups, a satisfied smile stretched her full pink lips. He was visibly excited by the full firmness under his body, questing around with increasing desperation on a barren desert of smooth, pale skin until she brought him face-first to the oasis. “Better now, hmm? Greedy thang you are. Go on, take everythin’ you find there.”
Ignoring her, Bobby latched his little hands to her tender flesh and squeezed, fingers flexing as he tried to force more of her life-giving milk past his hungrily suckling lips. Electric sparkles of arousal danced up the skin of her chest, subtle counterpoint to the sudden jolt of sensation that lit up every nerve between nipple and breastbone. White foam gathered at the boys lips and began to run down the slope of her milky mound into the blanket. Reseating his grip with one hand then the other, he dragged himself into her, pressing his whole body to the curve of her breast as he dragged mouthful after smacking, slurping mouthful down.
“Now, now,” she said with a high mock-chastisement, already moving to adjust him higher and closer on the tit to assuage his apparent fear that the milky tit might be snatched away at any moment. Gently held against her body, just enough pressure to let him know he was safe and cozy. Every slurping pull of the child’s lips renewed the pulsing pleasure crawling down from the point of her tit like a river breaking new ground with every passing flood. Even as the speed of her speech increased, words blurring together in her thickening Pinewoods drawl, the volume remained a conspiratorial murmur. “It’s not runnin’ away from ya, kiddo. You don’t have’ta-- Ooh! Agh, jeez, kid, slo’down-nnnoh shit, Bobby, oh shit...”
Even as she spoke through a shudder of impure reaction, some part of her reflected on the utter uselessness of calling an infant’s name. Might as well call a cat-- Mmn! Spots of light flashed and strobed at the edges of Stephanie’s vision as the gossamer thread of delightful agony wound around the tip of her clit, which responded by drawing all of her interior attention to its present desires. Rationally, she knew that this was... something that happened; those nerve endings didn’t know the difference between a baby and its daddy, and suction was suction. Perfectly normal. Not like she had ever heard any of the nurses she worked with giggling about blushing, confused mothers who never said a word, nooo...
Glancing up at the closed door to the hall beyond, as if someone might randomly and inexplicably stroll in at any time, Stephanie hastily adjusted herself to relieve the sudden heat between her legs. All was still concealed under the blanket in any case, and as soon as her thick thighs parted one hand dropped to the waistband of her scrubs, pulling it away from her body. Pain joined pleasure in lancing from breast to core, and looking down she saw one deep, dark eye glaring at her. Bobby had slipped down again as she squirmed, infant grip locked down tight on the meat of her tit as though to bind its jiggling mass in place and himself to it.
Seizing control of herself by effort of will, Stephanie compromised between relaxation and careful poise. Each breath was a steady, conscious effort aimed at suppressing a completely normal and natural reaction, which she had at no time experienced in the past eighteen months of her own son’s life. It was just how hungry the poor little tyke was, and maybe he knew by some instinct that she was not his mother. That would sure have made her cling tighter and eat like it was her last, in his position, a day old and already abandoned by the people responsible for her. Familiar maternal warmth swept through her mind like a warm west wind, chasing out anxiety, guilt, and shame. After a few minutes, full composure returned, and with it her awareness of her duties.
“You’re quite the n-needy little thing, huh?” she said, cautiously getting hold of her towel to dab at his cheeks. One of his hands flung out to shove her interloping rag away on the first try, but when she came back around he made no move. Apparently he had decided she was not trying to interrupt his meal, as she had before, and thus focused on giving her tit’s peak a hickey. “And feisty... I’m just tryin’ to help, y’know. Doesn’t do either one of us a lick of good if you fight me over it. Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, just you and me and all the time in the world...”
Keeping up the patter in a gentle, soothing tone, Stephanie watched her charge with undistracted fascination. She was so used to Brian’s habits that she could binge Netflix while he was at it and never miss a thing, but this Bobby kid now... He was so new and intensely alive, not at all the mewling kitten she usually saw in the NICU. And active, fully engaged with the feeding process, both hands reaching for her and resecuring his grip whenever she so much as breathed away from him. It made her wonder if this was normal, and her own son’s quiet passivity were strange, not something she had cause to question before tonight. After a few seconds continued observation of her novel charge, the thought fled to be replaced by another in due course, conscious mind suddenly reconnecting with the continuous happy babble coming from her mouth.
“You know, slugger, there’s more in me than you can take without bustin’, and besides, you’ve got other things to worry about. Like what your last name oughta be. Bobby, Bobby-Bobby-Bobby...” As she watched, his fast-shut eye opened and focused on her again, not quite as pinched as it had been before. It suddenly occurred to Stephanie, with a dull thud that signified her brain turning out a thought it should really have dispensed some time ago, that what she was seeing was impossible. There was no way he should be so fixated on her face.
She wasn’t even sure he should be able to turn his eyes like that yet. As her brow furrowed, his did as well, a grumble of discontent turning into a spitting cough. Bringing him up to her shoulder, she went through the motions with a freely expressed grimace of frustrated confusion as his head lay turned away from her. Her wracked brain made little progress on the issue, and it wasn’t long before he began to vocalize in a threatening manner, one hand reaching around her neck with a stiff flop and pulling down. “Oop, jeez... here you go, Bobby-baby, it’s the other side now. Nonono, it’s okay, it’s okay, there’s more... There you go!”
Settling her charge in and taking the opportunity to adjust her seat without disturbing him, she drew her plush legs under her and wriggled down tight into the chair. Maybe she wasn’t the brightest girl to ever triumph over Nursing School, but she knew the difference between a newborn and a developing infant. He was thirty hours old by his chart’s best guess, and visibly a preemie! Five pounds, with a belly full of breastmilk, maybe. By rights, he ought to be exhausted into deep, growth-fueling slumber at this point, but here he was, making her toes curl in her sneakers as the heat built within her. Every press of his lips intensified a drippy-honey flow of arousal through her body’s core, a sensation she had learned through hard-won and painful experience to associate with bad decision making.
Asserting her rational mind, Stephanie searched for a pragmatic answer to her predicament and found one faster than she had expected: He was a baby, she was a nurse and a mother. He was hungry, she would feed him. Anything else going on here existed only in her own mind, nothing but a fantasy, or else a common nerve response to stimulus. She was human after all, she had needs, and those needs had gone unsatisfied for... more than a year. What she needed to do was relax, follow her training and instincts intertwined, and make this baby healthy. Letting the idea grow and solidify in her mind, she felt the tension leaching out of her as the sense of rightness took hold.
Steph’s sleepy silver eyes flew open in surprise as a quick ripping pop sounded from between her arms. She barely processed the meaty impact against her left tit as more than another note in the chorus of Bobby’s diaper tearing free of his body. Not even the unexpected pain or heavy slosh of milk in her once-drained, now swollen breast could distract her from the masculine monolith which had just been unveiled. Half hard and throbbing towards fully erect, an impossibly fat, grotesquely long penis stood out from his body like a skyscraper on a sandbar. Though his body still had the crushed cuteness of a newborn, his shaft was pale and smooth, leaking a clear-golden prenut of intense arousal down to the base in a fitful trickle. It began to pool in the folds of his fleshy scrotum, two pulsing balls as big as her admittedly tiny clenched fist now resting against the arm she used to support him from underneath.
It never crossed Stephanie’s mind to think of it as mature, a man’s member on a child’s body. Before she could even consider it, truth reverberated through her mind like the tolling of great bells. This was something else, perfect and divine, beyond the bounds of petty human cycles. Bobby’s shrine of cock-flesh standing up before her wide and staring eyes was His altar, at which she should worship. She was supposed to serve him. She needed to suck his big, beautiful dick with all the vigor He had turned on her, and drink just as greedily of whatever He gave her.
But that would be wrong, she thought to herself, remembering to adjust Bobby a little higher so He didn’t have to struggle towards her bared tit. It was the work of a moment’s glance to ensure that no one was randomly pressing their face to the window into the corridor to watch her, and that the blanket still concealed all that went on beneath it. Totally outside the bounds of ethics, reason, and sense, her rational mind said as she freed a hand from His warm, lovely body to brush trailing blonde locks behind her ears. Now fully engorged, with the child to which it was attached none the worse for wear despite the fact that most of his blood had to be contained within that painfully-swollen looking dick. I’d be fired, jailed, lynched, she argued in her mind’s eye, while her lips sealed around the wide, blood-tight sponge of flesh that tipped His cock.