Stacy: Young, Pregnant, Broke, and Milky

By Kacey Kreamer

Stacy, 18-years-old and pregnant, has fallen on hard times. Kicked out of her family home, she lost her job and is struggling to make money any way she can. At the local food pantry, she meets Brian, an older man of means with a specific fantasy. They can each offer the other what they need; it's all a question of how far they're willing to go.
A practical, pregnant girl in a bad situation meets a man with a lactation fantasy. The connection is immediate; for Stacy, it's far from the worst she's had to do to survive on her own. For Brian, it's an attempt to heal old hurts and find a much-needed connection to another person.
This story contains adult themes and graphic descriptions of sexual acts, including lactation, adult breast-feeding, consensual MF sex, and prostitution. It is intended for adult readers age 18 and older only.

Enjoy this excerpt:

I pushed away my plate. It was as clean as could be without licking it.

“Care for dessert?” Brian asked with a smile. His own plate was half-finished. His eyes had stayed on me during the meal, but not in a freak-me-out kind of way. I mean, I knew he was horny for me, but I also got the feeling he had more on his mind than just boning a knocked-up teenager. Live the life I've had these past six months and you get good at reading people.

“Steak and dessert both? A lady could get used to treatment like this, Brian.” I smiled at him, and didn't even need to pull up a fake one. I liked this guy, but he was maybe too smooth, like he had all the answers figured out before I asked the question.

I ordered red velvet cake, and had to keep from wolfing it down. Preggo hormones make for weird cravings. I wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin, then leaned forward, my elbows on the table.

“What's your game, Brian? What are you into? You got a preggo fetish?”

As I said, I was a practical girl. It wouldn't be the first time I'd had to use my condition to make some quick cash.

“No,” he said, not at all embarrassed by my blunt directness. “But I do have a lactation fetish – or at least, I think I do. The idea has consumed me, really driving me crazy, you know? But I haven't gotten to experience it yet.”

“So, that's why you were at the food pantry? To find a cow?”

“Exactly why,” he chuckled, “though I don't think of you in those terms.”

I sat back. This was a new one on me. “So, you want to see me lactate?” I asked. As a bit of an exhibitionist anyway, I'll admit I didn't hate the idea.

Brian shook his head. “No, Stacy. I want to suckle. I would like you to breast-feed me.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liza Sharpe
• Release date: Sep 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005901189

Kacey Kreamer

Just a girl figuring out this thing called life. Recent first-time mom. While pregnant, my sex drive and the accompanying fantasies were just... wow!I'm here to share those fantasies, and maybe some real experiences, with other people. I hope they give you the same pleasure I've gotten from them. XOXO.

Book preview

Stacy: Young, Pregnant, Broke, and Milky

by Kacey Kreamer

Copyright 2022 Likely Story Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events reside solely in the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are eighteen years of age or older.

No portion of this work can be reproduced in any way without the prior written consent from the publisher, excepting for a fair use excerpt for review and/or editorial purposes.

This story is intended for adults 18 and over only. It contains explicit description of taboo sexual acts, adult themes, and material that some might find offensive. Enjoy!

I shifted my feet; the long wait in line wasn't doing my back any favors. Hell, when didn't my back hurt these days? I was 34 weeks pregnant, and huge! The temps were pushing 100 F again, which didn't help matters any, either. Bloated and sweaty aren't my favorite things to be.

Thankfully, I was almost at the front of the line. I hoped they wouldn't run out before I got in; I was starving! The line moved again, putting me finally at the front. I looked around cautiously – people who came to food pantries like this tended not to look at each other, I'd found. Maybe it was the shame of needing help, I don't know. I wasn't too embarrassed; maybe it was being only 18, but I didn't mind asking for help when it was needed.

It's not like I set out to get here on purpose. I didn't plan on getting knocked up by a random hookup, having to drop out of school and go to work when my family refused to help me (other than dad offering to pray for my 'whore soul', as he had called it), then losing my job when the