Even though I was a guy, the day I started growing breasts was a pretty normal day. I didn't have any strange sensation or weird itches or anything like that. I did have a dream which felt quite vivid overnight but which left me when I woke.
I walked into bathroom, trying to pull some of the seemingly-fantastic detail out of the haze of my thoughts, and slipped off my shirt.
Cracking my neck a few times, I glanced in the mirror. The area around my nipples was pressed out a little bit. Nothing too serious but, considering I was used to heavy-lifting at work and my muscles had adapted to that, it did surprise me.
I thought that perhaps I was eating a bit too much and something like a junior version of my Uncle Brad's 'moobs' were starting to show. And I didn't think any more of it at the time except to remind myself to eat a little less and exercise more.
The rest of that week was loaded with veggies and sit-ups. My best friend Adam came over a few times and cheered me on in my exercises.
At the end of the week, my mid-section looked leaner, I felt stronger, and the area pressing out from my chest looked even bigger than before. It was around enough to cup but still nothing too serious. I joked to myself about getting a bra and wore a couple of my looser shirts. With them on, nothing really showed but I was beginning to get a bit of jiggle when I ran. And I ran more in the hope that this persistent fat would finally leave.
It was status quo for the next couple of weeks. I thought they diminished for a while but the losses were fleeting. Eventually, it came to a point where I had to use layers. It gave the impression that I was getting bit chubby. Adam raised a couple of eyebrows but left it alone. I felt tempted to tell him but I wasn't sure how to start or if I knew anything much I could say about it.
In the weeks to follow, the idea of wearing a bra wasn't so outlandish. My nipples didn't feel any different from normal but the usual patches of hair on my chest were thinner than before. I eventually ordered bras online in various sizes, not knowing how big things would get.
It was at this point it occurred to me that I should probably document what was going on, maybe for a doctor. I grumbled with myself that I didn't have an earlier record.
Of course, this whole record for a doctor was theoretical. Without insurance and the sort of funds to cover the visit, along with whatever medicine or procedures a doctor might say I needed, I kept the photographic record mostly for myself. I had plenty of fears that this was something serious but I tried to keep a cool head about it.
I didn't mention anything to family but I was tempted to tell Adam. I even tried composing a letter. But I couldn't go through with it.
All the while, my chest continued to fill out. My nipples still stubbornly remained the same size. Sensation-wise, my boobs were as inert as warm, fleshy putty someone had stuck to my chest.
For work, I got pretty good at wrapping my chest and putting on shirts to disguise what was happening to me. Still, I soon earned the nickname "Titties" at work, along with "Robert Paulson" from my more film-geeky coworkers.
I didn't mind. In fact, through it all, I felt this strange ease. Sure, I seemed to be growing breasts. But it didn't really alarm me. Although, I did some reading at the library and wondered if I might be inter-sexed with a strange sort of late puberty.
To support this notion, when I approached the C-cup range (according the bras that fit me), my hips were beginning to look a little fuller than normal. It happened slowly, so slowly that it never really occurred to me for a while.
What happened quickly though was the mass die-off of (most of) my body hair. While the rest of my chest hair had long given up the ghost, my other body hair resisted for several weeks until it fell in one evening like a tree suddenly shedding all its leaves. However, there was no sign that they would ever some back.
All through this, I was terrified that someone would put together what was happening and suddenly yell "That guy's got boobs!" But I discovered that strange things pass by people. Impossible notions get filtered out and, most times, people don't really see it. It got ignored so much I even wondered if what was happening to me was really what it seemed.
It was at the point where going to the doctor seemed far too terrifying for me to even attempt. I couldn't see myself unwrapping the bandages for the doctor, revealing my breasts.
And, still, my nipples remained the same and flicking them did nothing.
I got into a routine. I wrapped my breasts firmly. Even at the size they were, it was still pretty easy. I got worried at some of the marks this left sometimes after several days of continuous wrapping, so I made sure to take what time I could to let them relax.
It kinda struck me, not long after that, how easily I saw them as my own and a part of my body.
Despite the mass loss of my hair, my face continued to have stubble. I found that both annoying and reassuring.
And so things remained as the weeks went on. Every so often, I would need to find a slightly-larger bra for when I relaxed but that was it.
Then, I leaked.
After a particularly tight wrap of my chest, my nipples began to leak what could only be milk. It wasn't too much that first time but it was more the second time. Soon, I had to think seriously about how to milk myself. That gave me a strange spell of giggles.
I tried several times to work up the courage to tell Adam. I once left myself unwrapped in the hopes that he might piece together that I now had D-cup breasts that needed milking. He stared at me a little but that was it.
And, so far as milking, it did reduce my size by a good bit, but it was only temporary. After about a week, I'd feel full again and kinda "sloshy".
Then came the biggest change. I woke up one morning to find that my groin had curled inside like a tortoise inside of its shell. Peeing was less comfortable and messier. While my testicles had retreated, I could still feel them lingering a bit inside.
And, yet, I still didn't feel alarmed. Life continued. I had my routine. Sometimes my groin would pop out a bit for some 'male release' but then it would go back in.
Despite all this, I wasn't really sure if I felt like a girl.
Eventually, my breasts seemed to reach their peak at somewhere just above a DD-cup. They would fluctuate up and down depending on if I milked them recently or not. After a while, I had so much milk tucked in the back of my fridge that I wasn't sure what to do with it. But I did look at my boxes of cereal and ponder.
It was only at this point, after several milkings, after so many weeks and months, that my nipples finally started to wake up. Late to the party.
Even then, most of what I felt hurt.
But what was happening lower actually felt nice. My groin retreated further and further to the point that is was pretty clear what I had between my legs. Peeing was much easier though I still seemed to pee through a very tiny version of what I had before.
I really hoped I wasn't some freak.
I didn't feel like a freak. I still had my normal voice, which wasn't that deep to begin with. And I hadn't gotten any shorter than my regular five-foot-ten. And that blasted facial hair was sticking around.
But, as any real sign of my manhood had dwindled away, I felt renewed confidence. I accumulated a secret stash of clothes and sometimes went out "en-femme". I was nervous the first few times but no one yelled in surprise or screamed, especially with my face shaved close. I even had a moment that I was rendered speechless when some random guy gave me a pat on the butt and a wink.
It only occurred to me later that I should've slapped him.
That confidence included facing Adam and telling my best friend what was going on. I invited him over one afternoon. I hadn't milked in a while so my breasts were at 'full'. My nipples had even started to feel a little itchy. I ignored it and invited Adam in.
He looked around and his eyes automatically flicked to my chest a moment as he asked, "You wanted to see me?"
I nodded, took a breath, and invited him over to the couch.
He sat and I paced a bit, trying to find the words I wanted.
After much delay, I could only say it as, "I'm turning into a girl. I have
Hearing it said, in my own voice, gave me a little shudder, even after all I'd gone through.
In his usual way, Adam's eyes widened and he leaned his head to look me over. After a moment, he gave a chuckle and said, "Come on. Cute joke, David. I know people tease you about your
extra chest fat. But they're not breasts."
With a deep breath, I slipped off the tops I had on, revealing my bra. Hands at my side, I looked Adam in the eye and told him, "I'm serious
Slowly, he stood up from the couch and got a better look at my cleavage. His head rocked this way and that, as though the angle was all that prevented him from understanding what he was seeing.
With a shake of his head, he murmured, "It's
an appliance. I saw it
on a costume thing once. They're fake, right?"
Before I could answer, he reached out a hand and poked my chest. I could feel it quite well as the itchy-ness increased.
Though he looked a little unsure, he said, "Come on, you goof. This is all a joke, right?"
His hand slipped over to tickle me on the shoulder like he always did when we were kids.
That was one thing too much. A rush filled me. I giggled from the tickle and it was like a torrent was released. It felt like my breasts suddenly exploded. Even with a bra on, what came out in a rush was enough to get on Adam's shirt.
He staggered back as I looked down at my dripping bra. Staring back and forth at me and his stained shirt, he found the words, "Its
With his shirt drying, I showed him as much as I could. He marveled as I used the breast pump. I wore a bikini bottom to resolve the other changes. I wasn't about to show everything, not even to my best friend.
After all that, I sat there and looked at him with hopeful eyes. He looked back at me. As he looked, his gaze softened. He said, "You're you, no matter what." And then he gave me a hug.
With Adam on my side, I felt so much better. My facial hair finally gave way to soft skin and I made plans to go out "en-fem" with Adam.
Then, to my surprise, Adam couldn't be reached from his cell phone for some weeks. I worried and left messages for him. It took a while, but he finally got back to me. His words were hesitant and trembling.
"What's wrong, Adam?" I could see myself rushing to his side, running over there right at that moment, braless if I had to be.
come over." And that was all he said.
Pacing and waiting was the worst. I flew to the door when I hear his soft knock. Adam is a lean guy and, even with the loose shirt he had on, it didn't take long to see what was wrong. On his chest, he had the beginnings of breasts, just like mine had been at the beginning.
I immediately wrapped my arms around him and told him it would be okay.
We talked a lot that day. I helped Adam as best I could and gave him my own information. After a while, the strange calm which I had from all this seemed to spread to him as well. He even joked a bit about what kind of bra he might look best in before radiating out in blushes.
I joked in turn about opening up a milk store for guys who wanted to become girls. Soon, we were both laughing.
When the giggles quieted down, Adam quietly confessed to me that he was one of those "sorts of guys".
I put my arms around him and smiled.
He smiled back and noted, "Thanks. But your boobs are crushing me
I giggled and retorted, "They're just upset because you made them explode."
With a smirk, Adam apologized to them and we both laughed like loonies.