Once upon a time in a tiny kingdom there lived a young man named Jack. Jack fancied himself a ladies' man. The local women didn't think so because Jack could be brash and insulting when he thought he was being witty. Not surprisingly, the fair sex avoided him as much as possible.

One woman who couldn't avoid him was his landlady, a young widow with an infant child. She was in desperate need of the rent she charged her lodger and Jack did pay his rent on time. The problem was in the early mornings and evenings when the widow was breastfeeding her baby. Jack would make clever comments like, "Can I suck on the one not in use?" or "Which one of those gives chocolate milk?" The widow would smile politely and hold her peace.

One evening however, after about the fiftieth or sixtieth time Jack made a similar rude remark, the widow whose name was Helen said, "I wish you could experience what women go through when we're breastfeeding. Then maybe you wouldn't make such remarks."

"That'll be the day," Jack replied. Well, as it happened, a witch was flying by the widow's cottage at the time and overheard the conversation. She thought it would be a great trick to grant Helen's wish. So that night when all slept, the witch cast a spell on Jack before flying off again on her broomstick.

Helen woke up the next morning to a great scream of terror coming from Jack's room. She jumped out of her bed, checked quickly on her still slumbering child and rushed into her lodger's room. She found Jack lying in his bed weeping inconsolably. "Are you all right? Are you ill?"

"I'm dying," Jack moaned. "I've discovered tumors. I'm sure they're cancerous." The unfortunate young man wept even harder and exposed his chest to the startled landlady.

"They look like breasts," Helen said finally after having a close look at the "tumors."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack huffed. "I'm a man. Men don't have breasts. They're tumors." His outrage had at least stopped his crying. But Jack was wrong. They were indeed breasts. And what a pair of hooters they were! Any woman alive would have been proud to have possessed this perfect pair of tit flesh. But since Jack was a man and a not so proud possessor of these lovely jugs, they looked totally out of place.

"They're breasts," Helen maintained. "I don't know how but that's what they are."

"But what should I do?" Jack looked like he was about to cry again.

"I'd go shopping for a bra if I were you," said Helen.

"I can't go bra shopping. I can just imagine. 'Hello, miss. I'm here to try on bras.'" Jack shuddered with revulsion as he played out the scene in his mind. "I can't go out in public ever again much less shop for a bra. I might as well kill myself here and now."

Helen knew Jack well enough to know he wasn't suicidal, but she realized he was going to have difficulties adjusting to having breasts so she agreed to go buy a bra for him. She had to hide a smile when she realized how sensitive Jack's breasts were when she took his measurements. The young man was lucky he didn't have any pressing appointments. Also, he had money from a small inheritance left to him by his parents so he didn't have to work.

Jack stayed in his room for the next couple of days and sulked. He realized that somebody must have put a curse on him, but he didn't know why. As far as he knew he never did anyone a bit of harm. "Forgive me," he cried to his unseen tormentor. "I don't know why I'm being punished but, I'll make up for whatever I've done to deserve this if you'll just lift this curse. Please!" Well, that plea fell on deaf ears because you see, the witch was hard of hearing and she wasn't wearing her hearing aids at the time. Also, she was off on holiday in the south of France.

Helen woke up the next morning to a great scream of terror coming from Jack's room. "What now?" she cried.

"I told you they were tumors. I'm in great pain and I'm bleeding to death." Helen saw that Jack's chest was wet but she couldn't see any blood.

"You're not bleeding to death. That's milk, not blood. You're lactating."

"You're wrong," wailed the despairing young man. "Leave me alone and I'll die here with as little bother as possible. I'll give you money for my burial." Helen realized Jack was trying to deny the truth and the reason he was in pain was that his breasts were full of milk. She fed her son and then went to call on a sickly friend. She was also a widow with an infant who was also sickly because her mother was having trouble with her milk.

"I just met someone who's... a wet nurse. Let him, uh her feed your daughter."

"I have no money for a wet nurse," her friend said who was also desperately poor. "You know that."