09-12-2011, 05:18 PM
As a youngster I always identified with the girls. I disliked the company of boys and I preferred girl playthings. I guess my Father was disappointed that he didn't have a more manly son.
At age 13, I developed significant gynecomastia- or abnormal enlargement of the male breasts. This of course made me the object of many taunts and much groping from my schoolmates. The doctor's assured my parents that I would grow out of it when the male hormones kicked in. I was secretly delighted however and I took great pleasure from my developing breasts. Finally they got big enough to jiggle as I walked. I solved this problem by going about with my arms crossed over my chest.
"Isn't that bouncing awfully uncomfortable dear?" my mother asked,
"I can't help it mom, this is the way I am" was all that I could say.
"Maybe I can help" she said. With that she left the room returning momentarily with one of my sister's bras. She instructed me in the correct manner of putting it on and noted, with some satisfaction I think, that I completely filled the B cups. This was much more comfortable, but of course, it made them project more from my chest.
My father would have none of this. He snatched the bra away and declared that from now on I couldn't leave the house unless they were tightly bound with an Ace bandage. And this was how I left the house every day for school. These were difficult to hide even with the binding. A combination of loose shirts and layering helped me escape most public notice.
By age 18, they had grown to the size and shape of a girl of equivalent age. I could now wear my mother's C cup bras, and I was delighted to find her lingering scent as I slipped them on. I also won the small victory of being able to wear them around the house and sleep in them- a result of my Mother’s pleading to my Father that I needed them.
During this time my Mother became my best friend. She once took me to the foundation department of a large department store. She found a saleslady and announced,
“ I want a professional fitting for my daughter”, Wow! This was the first time she had used the feminine pronoun for me. The saleslady I suppose took me for an awkward girl as I had long unisex hair and an androgynous appearance. We entered the fitting room, I removed my shirt and she took my measurements. After the fitting my Mother selected two white serviceable bras with wide straps, and a frilly pink sleep bra. Almost as an after thought she sent the lady back for a black lace push up bra. When I wiggled into this I was astonished that I appeared to be at least a D cup.
“I don’t know when you will wear it dear, but every girl ought to have one.” said my Mother.
Another time she took me to a shoe store and she bought me my first heels- bone white pumps with a three inch heels. At home she patiently taught me to walk with confidence and grace- lessons I never forgot. Mother was grooming me for the woman I would become.
One time my sister had a sleep-over for 3 of her friends. Some time in the night, the four girls entered my bedroom and aroused me. It seems my sister had told them about my secret and they wanted to see for themselves. I was agreeable, but said
“Only if all of us do it”. And so giggling like school girls, we all dropped our pajama tops. I was very proud to show my perky boobs to the other girls and there was much
feeling and groping. I noted too that only one girl was larger than me, and she was already sagging.
During this time I enjoyed cross dressing whenever my parents were away. It was wonderful to release the inner woman. On one such occasion, I met a young man in a movie theater. We talked, held hands which soon let to petting. I shamelessly allowed him to unbutton my blouse. I thrilled at his gentle touch as he cupped my breast. We were both fully aroused my now and he had a very large bulge in his pants. He soon experienced an enormous climax, and I was amazed that I could produce such an effect on a man.
And so I entered my adult life, working in male mode and hiding my assets. I dated women occasionally, who were either delighted when I revealed myself, or repulsed, saying “it was like having sex with another woman”. I never wore a T shirt, learned to swim, or exposed myself in any way. I could have had them surgically removed of course, but they were beautiful part of me that gave me much pleasure.
By age 50, I had grown impatient with this lifestyle. I was aware that life was passing me by without ever releasing the inner woman that lurked within my skin. I decided to transgender. I found a clinic that specialized in such matters and immediately started hormone treatment. My trachea was shaved and I began professional voice instruction. My breasts required only a course of progesterone to enlarge the areola’s
and nipples to womanly proportions. My figure however needed a bit more work. Ultimately I flew to one of the spa-hospitals in India, and had my hips and butt
augmented with 2 inch implants. This produced a very much more pleasing figure but I remember it was really uncomfortable flying home.
These changes were now impossible to hide and I undertook to tell my friends and relatives. The clinic had warned me that most such patients can expect to loose some friends and even family. It was indeed so- my Father never spoke to me again.
Its been 5 years now and I have fully transitioned. It is wonderful to be so proud of what I had kept hidden for so many years. I thank science that some of natures mistakes can occasionally be fixed.
At age 13, I developed significant gynecomastia- or abnormal enlargement of the male breasts. This of course made me the object of many taunts and much groping from my schoolmates. The doctor's assured my parents that I would grow out of it when the male hormones kicked in. I was secretly delighted however and I took great pleasure from my developing breasts. Finally they got big enough to jiggle as I walked. I solved this problem by going about with my arms crossed over my chest.
"Isn't that bouncing awfully uncomfortable dear?" my mother asked,
"I can't help it mom, this is the way I am" was all that I could say.
"Maybe I can help" she said. With that she left the room returning momentarily with one of my sister's bras. She instructed me in the correct manner of putting it on and noted, with some satisfaction I think, that I completely filled the B cups. This was much more comfortable, but of course, it made them project more from my chest.
My father would have none of this. He snatched the bra away and declared that from now on I couldn't leave the house unless they were tightly bound with an Ace bandage. And this was how I left the house every day for school. These were difficult to hide even with the binding. A combination of loose shirts and layering helped me escape most public notice.
By age 18, they had grown to the size and shape of a girl of equivalent age. I could now wear my mother's C cup bras, and I was delighted to find her lingering scent as I slipped them on. I also won the small victory of being able to wear them around the house and sleep in them- a result of my Mother’s pleading to my Father that I needed them.
During this time my Mother became my best friend. She once took me to the foundation department of a large department store. She found a saleslady and announced,
“ I want a professional fitting for my daughter”, Wow! This was the first time she had used the feminine pronoun for me. The saleslady I suppose took me for an awkward girl as I had long unisex hair and an androgynous appearance. We entered the fitting room, I removed my shirt and she took my measurements. After the fitting my Mother selected two white serviceable bras with wide straps, and a frilly pink sleep bra. Almost as an after thought she sent the lady back for a black lace push up bra. When I wiggled into this I was astonished that I appeared to be at least a D cup.
“I don’t know when you will wear it dear, but every girl ought to have one.” said my Mother.
Another time she took me to a shoe store and she bought me my first heels- bone white pumps with a three inch heels. At home she patiently taught me to walk with confidence and grace- lessons I never forgot. Mother was grooming me for the woman I would become.
One time my sister had a sleep-over for 3 of her friends. Some time in the night, the four girls entered my bedroom and aroused me. It seems my sister had told them about my secret and they wanted to see for themselves. I was agreeable, but said
“Only if all of us do it”. And so giggling like school girls, we all dropped our pajama tops. I was very proud to show my perky boobs to the other girls and there was much
feeling and groping. I noted too that only one girl was larger than me, and she was already sagging.
During this time I enjoyed cross dressing whenever my parents were away. It was wonderful to release the inner woman. On one such occasion, I met a young man in a movie theater. We talked, held hands which soon let to petting. I shamelessly allowed him to unbutton my blouse. I thrilled at his gentle touch as he cupped my breast. We were both fully aroused my now and he had a very large bulge in his pants. He soon experienced an enormous climax, and I was amazed that I could produce such an effect on a man.
And so I entered my adult life, working in male mode and hiding my assets. I dated women occasionally, who were either delighted when I revealed myself, or repulsed, saying “it was like having sex with another woman”. I never wore a T shirt, learned to swim, or exposed myself in any way. I could have had them surgically removed of course, but they were beautiful part of me that gave me much pleasure.
By age 50, I had grown impatient with this lifestyle. I was aware that life was passing me by without ever releasing the inner woman that lurked within my skin. I decided to transgender. I found a clinic that specialized in such matters and immediately started hormone treatment. My trachea was shaved and I began professional voice instruction. My breasts required only a course of progesterone to enlarge the areola’s
and nipples to womanly proportions. My figure however needed a bit more work. Ultimately I flew to one of the spa-hospitals in India, and had my hips and butt
augmented with 2 inch implants. This produced a very much more pleasing figure but I remember it was really uncomfortable flying home.
These changes were now impossible to hide and I undertook to tell my friends and relatives. The clinic had warned me that most such patients can expect to loose some friends and even family. It was indeed so- my Father never spoke to me again.
Its been 5 years now and I have fully transitioned. It is wonderful to be so proud of what I had kept hidden for so many years. I thank science that some of natures mistakes can occasionally be fixed.