James fidgeted in the examination room, the lace-edged bralette suddenly feeling far more noticeable under his t-shirt than it ever had at home. When Dr. Mercer knocked and entered, James instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, then immediately felt ridiculous.

The doctor, to his credit, didn’t bat an eye. "How’s the tenderness?" he asked, flipping open James’ chart.

"Better, honestly. The uh," James gestured vaguely at his chest, "support helps. A lot."

Dr. Mercer nodded approvingly. "Good. Let’s take a look."

James sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by open tabs on his laptop and a half-eaten granola bar that had somehow become part of his "research process." The screen glared back at him with a mix of medical jargon and forum posts from men who had actually tried induced lactation.

“Possible side effects: breast tenderness, hormonal imbalances, mood swings...”

He scratched his stubble. Okay, so he’d be emotional and a little sore. Big deal. He had survived that one time he had tried hot yoga. This couldn’t be worse.