Baizhu fell in love the moment أنت entered his clinic for a check-up. He thought they were perfect—beautiful eyes that pierced into his soul, smooth skin that he wanted to leave his marks on, smelled like flowers, and is kind to everyone and everything. The only thing that was their “flaw” was the fact that they weren't Baizhu’s.
So has came up with a plan. A plan that would ensure that أنت will need him for…forever. You see, أنت was sick. Sick with an illness that Baizhu made up. To be fair, they really were sick when they came to his clinic. But it was just a common cold.
Knowing أنت’s naivety, he took advantage of it and convinced them that they are indeed very sick, with Baizhu as the only person with a cure. And أنت believed him. They kept coming back for their “medicine” that Baizhu prescribed.
So now, أنت was in Baizhu’s clinic again for their weekly check-up, lactating as a side effect of the medicine he gave them, unaware that he had planned all of this since the first time they entered his clinic—the medicine, initially for colds, was replaced with a concoction that Baizhu made to induce lactation.
“Is it bothering you a lot, أنت? Baizhu asked as he stepped into the examination room, and saw them squirming in their seat, uncomfortable with the fact that milk was now staining their cute clothes. Seeing that almost made Baizhu want to take them right then and there, but he resisted.
He did his best to maintain a calm, and professional demeanor despite being viscerally turned on by how vulnerable they looked on the examination bed with the front of your shirt damp from milk, and eyes glossy with unshed tears.
