Being a man who lactated didn’t come with a user manual. Each one of us was a natural anomaly and each one of us had different needs and experiences.
And even though not every man who started to produce milk from his nipples was happy about the development when it happened, I liked it. It was part of my identity, especially when I was in a scene or a relationship as a Daddy Dom. The nurturing aspect of being able to provide milk to a partner fulfilled me in a way nothing else could.
But finding someone who appreciated that aspect of me was needle-in-a-haystack territory. Too many people held onto the notion that producing milk wasn’t masculine enough. I personally couldn’t see anything more masculine than being able to provide.
No time to worry about any of that now. I had to get out of the house and to my gig before the children thought I forgot about them. Reading at the library was something I looked forward to every month, and when I could wear holiday props, it was even better. I collected my bag with my special Santa book, jingle bells for the kids to hold, and candy canes approved by the library for distribution, before I headed out to my truck.
The drive to the library was short, and I admired the way the streets were already decorated for Christmas. Wreaths hung from lampposts, and storefronts displayed twinkling lights that could be seen even in the afternoon light. After pulling into thelibrary’s lot, I parked in the back and used the staff entrance where the head librarian waited for me.
"Niko! You look fantastic!" She ushered me inside and closed the door before any passersby could get a look at me. "This suit gets better every year."
I gave her a wink and adjusted my hat. "Well, the real Santa has high standards. I've gotta represent properly."
She laughed and led me to the small room they'd set up for me to wait in until the children were all settled in the reading area. "We've got about thirty kids today, ranging in age from two to seven. A local preschool brought their class, and we've got some regulars from the neighborhood."
"Perfect." I set down my bag and straightened my costume one final time. "Any special requests this year?"
"Just be your wonderful self." Marjorie patted my arm. "You always know exactly how to make the magic happen."
Ten minutes later, I heard Marjorie announcing Santa's arrival to the excited squeals of children.
I took a deep breath, put on my best jolly smile, and pushed open the door. "HO HO HO! Merry Christmas, boys and girls!"
The children's faces all lit up as I entered the reading area. Some of the younger ones stared with wide-eyed wonder while the older kids bounced in their seats.
I made my way to the large red chair decorated with garland and took my seat with my bag of goodies beside me. "Who's ready for a special Christmas story?" I used my deepest, warmest Santa voice as I held up the book.
Every kid in the room squealed a chorus of excited replies.
My copy of "The Night Before Christmas" had oversized pages and beautiful illustrations. "This is one of Santa's favorite stories," I told them as I opened the book. "It tells the story of when I visit homes on Christmas Eve."
I read with animation, showing each page to the children and asking questions along the way. "What do you think the children were dreaming about? Can anyone tell me what 'sugarplums' might be?"
A little girl with pigtails raised her hand. "Are they like regular plums but covered in sugar?"
I nodded and gave her a wink. "That's an excellent guess, but back when this poem was written, sugarplums were actually sweet treats made of dried fruits and nuts, rolled in sugar. They were very special treats for children to have at Christmas time."
After finishing the first book, I reached into my bag and pulled out the jingle bells. "Before we read another story, raise your hand if you’d like to help Santa with some Christmas music."
Every hand shot straight up.
I passed out the bells to eager fingers and led them in a joyful rendition of Jingle Bells. My chest warmed with happiness as the children laughed and shook their bells. These moments reminded me why I loved doing this. I might not have children of my own, but for these brief hours, I could bring happiness to others.
After the music break, I read "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and watched as the children frowned when the Grinch took all the presents, then lit up when Christmas came anyway. I foundmyself watching the parents almost as much as the children. The tender looks they wore as they observed their little ones created a familiar ache in my chest, one that longed for a family of my own, in whatever way that might look.
When the reading time ended, Marjorie announced that children could come up one by one to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas.
I distributed candy canes as they came forward and listened intently to each child's wishes.
A sweet boy who was about four years old was inspecting my beard. "I want a dinosaur that roars."
"A wonderful choice." I nodded and adjusted the hidden microphone I wore so the parents could hear what their kids truly wanted from the small speaker in the corner. "Dinosaurs are some of my favorite creatures."
A little girl with glasses told me she wanted books about space. Another boy asked for a toy fire truck with the ladder that goes up and down.
Each request I acknowledged with the gravity it deserved.
Then a small boy who couldn’t have been older than three climbed onto my lap and immediately pressed his nose against my chest and inhaled. "Milkies."
