Page 3 of Trained By His Little

Collin's face softened at hearing my excitement and noticing I wasn't completely big at the moment.

Not very many people knew about my Little side, but Collin was a Daddy Dom, so he knew what to look for. Sometimes, I wished he could be my Daddy, but while we got along just fine for the past eight months that we’d known each other, there wasn’t a real connection there.

Just a trusted friendship. Which was nice too.

He always made sure I was doing well when he delivered my milk supply. On the rare occasion I was able to spring for an in-person session with him, things never turned sexual. Just comforting as he let me drink straight from the source.

I’d never managed to fully regress with him, but I could get close. Usually, we were just two guys who helped each other out. And when he found the right boy for him, Collin would make a great Daddy for his future Little.

As for me, I was still waiting too. Someday, I’d find my own special Daddy who was just right for me, but in the meantime, Collin’s milk was yummy and exactly what I needed. I was more than ready to eat dinner and curl up in bed with my warm bottle.

“Thanks for understanding, Ollie. Even though I use a cooler to transport, the traffic had me nervous.” He reached out and scruffed the top of my hair. “Spoiled milk isn't good for little boys.” Collin chuckled as my face scrunched up in disgust at the mention of spoiled milk.

“That's yucky.”

“Very yucky, and that's why I need to get going. I have one more delivery today, but they aren't too far from here. Have a good night, Ollie.” He handed me a paper bag that had enough milk to last me for the week. Each of the smaller plastic baggies inside was neatly marked with dates written at the top.

“Thank you, I will. Drive safe.” I smiled and waved bye as he got in his car and drove away.

Then I headed to the kitchen to properly store my fresh milk, so that I could get dressed in my comfiest jammies and color while I waited for my dinner to arrive.

After dinner, I rubbed my full belly, enjoying the soft fuzz of my jammies that matched my favorite movie I had playing while I ate and colored. It was getting late, so I picked up my mess from dinner and went to the kitchen to throw it away.

My headache had receded significantly while I relaxed and ate dinner, but I was still anxious to hop in bed with my stuffies and warm milk.

I reached into the cabinet to grab a clean bottle and filled it with milk then popped it in my bottle warmer. The urge to just grab my bottle and head to bed after a long day was strong, but even though I didn't currently have a Daddy, I wanted to be a good boy. So I went to the living room to clean up my coloring book and crayons.

After cleaning up and turning off all the lights, I gathered my blankie and bottle and headed down the hall to my bedroom. I got under the covers, making sure all my stuffies were in the right place, and instantly melted into the soft sheet when that first trickle of warm milk coated my tongue.

I wished I had a Daddy to take care of me and read me stories while I suckled on my bottle. It was so hard to hold a book and drink at the same time. So, instead of a story, I imagined my Daddy was with me, cuddling me and stroking my hair as I drank.

I was pulled out of my thoughts of my amazing dream Daddy when I sucked in air. It always made me sad when I was out of delicious milk. I sleepily placed the empty bottle on my nightstand and rolled over under the covers, my thumb quickly replacing the soft silicone nipple as I succumbed to a much-needed sleep.

3

TAD

Whatever had been trying to take hold within me finally did, and I was officially sick. It didn’t feel like a flu or a cold, but there was a general achiness that seemed to emanate from my chest. Maybe a lung infection, though I wasn’t coughing or wheezing. I considered going to the doctor, but it wasn’t that bad. Nothing a day of lazing around in bed wouldn’t cure.

Or so I thought.

Turned out, ignoring this particular problem wasn’t the right answer, and when I woke up on Friday morning, I was oozing…something. Something bad. My sheets were wet and sticky, and a white discharge covered my chest. My first thought was that some kind of cyst or tumor had erupted and would probably be my demise.

But then I took stock of how I felt, and everything that had been sore and achy was now…better. Like, totally fine. None of the tension or weird pressure that I’d been experiencing for the past two days was present. And with the exception of some discharge bubbling out around my nipples, I was pretty sure I was fine.

Okay, a milky discharge was never fine, but I hoped it was just an infection that needed some antibiotics. A Z-Pak could cure just about anything.

After texting the guys to let them know I needed one more day and would be back on Monday, I headed to my general practitioner for a script. He always left a few slots open in his schedule for walk-ins, so I only had to wait in the lobby for twenty minutes before being brought back to the room.

The nurse was an older woman, around my mom’s age, who held a pen to her lip as she waited for me to explain the reason for my visit.

“Um, I might have an infection.” I didn’t know how to explain to her what was happening, and trying to describe what I’d woken up to was out of the question. “I’d rather just tell Dr. Dale about it myself.”

“I see.” She made a note on the page and nodded as if it all made sense. My guess was that she was writing down “chunky urine” or “missing sex toy,” but that was fine with me. She could think whatever she wanted. “He’ll be right with you.”

When Dr. Dale finally came in, he had a smirk on his face. “Okay, so what’s really going on?”

I grinned. “What did she say it was?”

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