Milk. Part 3 (Conclusion)
He would reach down and use his fingers in Mark’s folds, creating a circuitry of pleasure between his wetness below and his milk above.
Catch up on parts one and two first here!
And now, for your feature presentation…
Milk. Part 3 (Conclusion)
Image by Anrita1705 on Pixabay
Goo glops and slides slick over Mark’s gaping belly splayed out on the papery dressing of the medical table. “Yes, she’s looking very healthy!” the nurse exclaims as she points her slim and dainty finger towards the monitor. Adam glows with pride and squeezes Mark’s hand as Mark swallows the lump that has been lodged inside his throat for the past nine months. It’s not that he’s not excited to give birth, I mean, he’s not stoked, but at least he doesn’t hate children. It’s just that this is not the way he planned to come out as trans and work through his body dysphoria. Being pregnant is the utter opposite of the man he feels inside. It is the epitome of womanhood, of which he is not. He’s worried that the baby, being inside of him, will feel his fraudulence, will know he is not what he’s supposed to be, but yet, his body is still functioning as if he is. It is confusing to say the least, but he had known right after Adam’s semen spilled inside of him on their wedding night, that this was his fate. There was no way he’d be able or allowed to get an abortion, no way he could go through with it. And so, here he was, putting off his true life once again out of the necessity he felt to continue hiding. Just for now, he reminded himself. Soon enough you'll be free.
“Pushhhhhhhh” the midwife yells, Mark’s hand in hers, his other in Adam’s. Sweat coating his forehead with a moist glisten. The pain rips through his every breath, rips through his entire being. The whole experience is pain on every level. He thinks to himself, life is pain, pain is life... how could anyone expect any different when this is how every life begins? He heaves and grunts and feels exposed on the deepest levels. Pushing and pushing and pain and pain, pushing and pain, pain and pushing, heaves, grunts, breaths, yelps, yells, pain and pushing and then, she’s out. He survives. And the baby survives, and is alive, and is finally delivered to his chest. He feels an overwhelming amount of love and awe through his tears, sweat, and ache. She immediately purses his lips for his nipple and finds it with ease. Her suckling begins. Mark cannot explain the feeling this instantly brings him; the feeling of supplying nourishment to a being, his being, his baby, through his chest, through his nipple. There is an intensity of pleasure, not in a sexual way, but in a life-bearing way that this first moment brings him. Though he is still completely entranced by the intensity of the night, this moment makes it all feel worth it. He, Mark, is nurturing another life, through his nipple, and this, he thinks, is the truest miracle of all. This, he decides, will be his new life purpose.
