The Botanical Beauty Part II The Budding Botanist
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My Son's Budding Breasts free porn video
My Son's Budding Breasts
By Sandy Brown
It had been a long time since I had been able to give myself an orgasm
without the help of Richard, my trusted vibrator, but as I lay in bed with
my eyes closed, thinking of the day's events, all I needed was a slight
rubbing of my fingers on the right spot, and I came again, and again, and
again....finally, sleep came, and I blissfully drifted off...
My twelve year old son Jordan had been reaching puberty. Puberty is an
awkward time for most boys and girls, but for Jordie, it seemed even more
so. He had gotten quiet and shy, almost withdrawn. As a single mom, I
was a little concerned, because he did not have a male role model.
It took me awhile, but at some point I realized that I had not seen him
shirtless in quite some time. Whether it was putting on his PJ's, or
taking a shower, somehow he always managed to cover his chest without
anyone seeing it. Almost as if he were a girl. I thought it was odd
behavior, but I didn't even pretend to understand the mind of a twelve
year old boy, so I just ignored it. But one day, without even thinking, I
came up to his room with a pile of clean laundry in my arms and pushed
open his bedroom door with my foot. I came upon the sight of Jordie
staring at himself in the mirror, bare-chested. And what I saw shocked
me. His chest had clearly budding breasts, just like a thirteen year old
girl. I was shocked. And he was panicked. I couldn't tell if he was
more upset at what his chest looked like, or at me seeing him topless.
We both just stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Then he
crossed his arms in front of his chest and yelled at me, "Mom! Get out!"
And he started to cry.
I said, "I will do no such thing young man! You are not naked! There is
no reason for a boy to be hiding his chest from his mother. Now what is
going on?"
And he looked at me and started shrieking. "What's going on? What's
going on? Look! You tell me what's going on! I am a freak!"
I tried to calm him down. I said, "Look Jordie, I don't know a lot about
this, but I have heard that it is common for boys going through puberty to
get some uhh, temporary enlargement up there. You should have told me
what was going on. If you want, I will make an appointment with a doctor
and we will have her examine you, ok?"
That seemed to calm him down a little. In a more quiet voice he said,
"Yes, please, Mom. As soon as possible, ok? I know I should have told you
but I was embarrassed. And I was hoping it would just go away, but it has
been getting worse and worse."
And then he started crying again. It was an awkward moment. Of course,
as his mother, seeing my son in distress, I wanted to give him a hug, but
I got the feeling he did not want to be touched at that moment. So I just
stroked his head and said, "I will get an appointment for you right away,
Honey. Don't worry; everything will be fine." And I left his room.
I got into bed, and I tried to sleep, but I couldn't get the image of
Jordie's budding breasts out of my mind. It wasn't just that his nipples
were swollen; he had actual breasts. I had heard of gynecomastia, but I
always thought that condition occurred in overweight boys. Jordie was
slight and slim. And his small but pert breasts were as obvious as
daylight. I was amazed that he had been able to keep it hidden from me
this long. I just hoped he had been able to keep it hidden from everyone
else.
I felt a twinge of guilt, and actually felt a little embarrassed, but for
some reason, the image of my pretty young son with his pert breasts was
turning me on. It was true that I had always wanted a girl, and with
Jordie as my only child (and with me being a single mom) there were times
I had fantasized about Jordie being a girl. He was always slender, and he
had such a pretty face, with delicate cheekbones and full lips. He really
could have been a girl.
I had seen the girls his age starting to sprout, and there was a tiny part
of me that was jealous, jealous that I did not have a daughter to share
those special experiences with, like buying a first training bra. But I
knew that it was not only wrong to feel that way, but an impossible wish,
so I just pushed it out of his mind. And then this! I knew it was
crazy, but I almost felt like God had somehow read my innermost thoughts,
and was making this happen. The question was, was God rewarding me, or
punishing me? It was a classic case of be careful what you wish for.
But in the real world, away from my fantasies, there was no question that
this was a bit of a disaster. Jordie was extremely self-conscious. Now I
realized why he always seemed to be wearing baggy tops or sweatshirts.
Now I realized why he would not be seen shirtless. It was already spring;
I assumed that he was dreading the summer.
I called my pediatrician, who gave me a referral to a pediatric
endocrinologist. I told the endocrinologist that my son was desperate and
she agreed to squeeze us in for an appointment. I took Jordie the very
next day after school. Doctor Dwek was a pretty young woman who was very
sympathetic. She told us that the condition, known as gynecomastia, was
quite common in pubescent boys; still, when Jordie took his shirt off, she
could not hide the look of surprise on her face.
Jordie did not look like an overweight teenage boy with some fatty tissue
around his chest; for all intents and purposes, from the waist up, he had
the body of a very nicely-developing teenaged girl. If he had been a
girl, he would have been WAY past the point where her mother would have
taken her for her first bra.
When she saw my look of concern at HER look of surprise, Dr. Dwek
acknowledged that the condition was more common in boys who were
overweight, and that Jordie's, ahh, "development" as she delicately called
it, was further along than most boys she saw.
In any event, she said, the condition usually resolved itself in within
two years. She tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Look, it's not the
end of the world. Half the population goes through this!" Jordie did not
seem amused.
For a boy who has to hide his torso, with summer right around the corner,
two years must seem like a very long time. I asked the doctor what we
should do in the meantime. I added that Jordie was complaining that his
chest ached. Dr. Dwek said, "Well, look, just as if he were a girl, he
needs support. That is why his chest is aching. I know you may not want to
hear this, but the best thing he can do at this point is to wear a bra.
That will definitely make him feel better. Just have him wear baggy
shirts to school. I will give him a note that will excuse him from all gym
activities."
As we left the doctor's office, she asked me to stay behind for a moment.
She said to me, "Look, for us, this may seem like no big deal, but to a
teenaged boy, it really can go to very fundamental issues regarding his
gender identity, etc. Jordie may be fine, but in case you think he needs
someone to talk to, I am going to give you the name of a psychologist that
I have referred other patients to. I think she is excellent."
I thanked the doctor and met Jordie in the waiting room.
We left the doctor's office with me trying to reassure Jordie, telling
him, "See, I told you, it's just temporary!" But while I was doing that,
I could not help feeling terribly aroused at the thought that our doctor
had just told me to buy my son some bras!! I felt a twinge of guilt at
feeling excited about something that I knew was making him feel bad, but I
could not help how I felt. Not only was this like a fantasy come true,
but to make it even better, it was like we didn't have a choice. This was
not me giving in to some deep, dark desire and feminizing my son; no, this
was on doctor's orders!
I tried to sound very casual as we got in the car, saying, "Well, the
doctor said that buying you a bra would help your chest feel better. I
know that might feel a little weird for you, but really, she's right, half
the world does it. Let's just go do it and not make a big deal out of it,
ok?"
I had not thought through exactly how this would work, but I decided to go
directly to the store from the doctor because I did not want Jordie to
have time to think about it and refuse the doctor's suggestions. I
decided that when we got to the store, if I had to deal with sales help, I
would just be very matter of fact about it. I mean, all I had to do was
tell the truth, right?
I took hm to the big mall by our home, which had a Bloomingdales. We took
the escalator up to the fourth floor, Lingerie. I quietly said to him,
"Look, why don't we go to a dressing room and you stay there. I will look
for some things and bring them to you. This way you don't have to worry
about being embarrassed by people seeing you shopping for a bra."
I said it in a way that made it sound like I was trying to reduce the
trauma of this experience to him. Meanwhile, I had not even asked him if
the whole idea of going to a department store and buying bras for him was
ok. Even better, he thanked me for being sensitive to his situation! We
found an empty dressing room and I quietly said, "OK, now, take your shirt
off and wait here." He did so, and once again I found myself almost
shocked at his breasts. He looked to be a full A cup.
I really had to control my excitement. I felt like I was just going to
burst! My son was sitting in a dressing room in Bloomies, with his shirt
off, waiting for me to bring him bras to try on!
I wandered around, looking at all the pretty underthings. As I looked
around, a sales lady approached me. She said, "Can I help you?"
I said, "Well, I think I can manage but thank you. Actually I have a
slightly awkward situation. You see, my teenaged son has a medical
condition which has caused him to have enlarged breasts. And the doctor
thought it was best that we get him some bras. He is in the dressing room
waiting for me. He is quite embarrassed, as you can imagine."
The woman's eyes opened wide, and then she looked at me very
sympathetically and squeezed my hand. She said, "Oh the poor dear! But
he is so lucky to have a supportive mom like you."
I smiled and thanked her and then whispered a little conspiratorially, "As
long as he needs to wear a bra, I thought I'd might as well get him some
pretty ones. Don't you agree?" I could see that she was not so sure she
did agree. But she smiled and said, "Yes, of course." I said, "So, umm,
are there any brands or models in particular that the teenage girls like
to wear?"
She looked at me again with a bit of surprise. Why would my son need to
wear the bras that were in fashion for the girls his age? It wasn't like
the other girls were going to see it! But she shrugged a bit and said,
"Well, the girls tend to like Jezebel and b.tempted by Wacoal. They are
down at the end of this aisle." I thanked her and said I thought I
could find them on my own. She said, "Well, if you two need any help,
just find me, ok?"
I thanked her again and continued with my shopping. And then I had to
think to myself, Why did I just tell her all of this? I could have just
said I was fine and she would have left me alone. I didn't really NEED to
tell her that I was shopping for bras for my son. But it felt so
exciting to tell her! Oh, my, what was going on with me?
So many pretty bras! It seemed like the bras for teens were almost all
pushup. I was tempted, but even I knew that was going too far. A pushup
bra for a boy who was trying to hide his developing breasts? OK, not so
much. I tried to find a few that were not focused on enhancing and
pushing up a girl's bust.
I guess he thought I would bring him back the most boring, unfeminine bras
I could find. And I guess that was originally my intention. But once I
started looking, I was a little seduced by all the pretty, lacy things.
I picked out a few darling bras, including some in pastels and one that
was black with lots of lace, and brought them in. He looked at me in
shock. I said, "Look, as long as you have to do this, you might as well
get some that are pretty."
He told me that he was not sure he saw the logic in that. I said, "The
sales lady told me that all the girls are wearing Jezebel and b.tempted by
Wacoal. So I picked out a few of those." Once again he looked at me like
I was crazy. But he was too exhausted and stunned at that point to put
up any resistance.
Once again, I felt a twinge of guilt at taking advantage of his somewhat
diminished mental state, but I did. I said, "Some of the really cute
bras come with matching panties. See, here. Why don't you try these on
as well."
Jordie tried to resist, saying, that was just going too far, but I said,
"Look, let's face it, once you are wearing a bra, for God's sake, how big
a deal is a pair of panties? It's really nothing in comparison. These
come in a matching set. You need to buy the panty if you are going to buy
the bra." Of course, that was not true.
It took a few minutes, but soon enough, Jordie was standing there, looking
so cute and shy, wearing a black lace bra and a pair of matching panties.
I couldn't believe it, but he actually filled the whole cup, and if
anything, with the support, his breasts looked even bigger with the bra
on. Oh, my, he looked good enough to eat! I knew this was supposed to be
serious, that he was only doing this because of a medical condition, but I
couldn't help myself. I said, "Oh, Jordie, you look gorgeous!"
He got teary and said, "But Mom, I'm a boy, I'm not supposed to look
gorgeous."
I hugged him and said, "I know, Sweetie, I know. But you do. You look
just adorable."
So now, Jordan had some of his very own lacy, delicate, pretty bra and
panty sets. And I was in love with the way my darling boy looked. I told
him to leave the bra and panties on; I pulled the tags off and paid for
everything at the register.
As we drove home, I suspected that he was full of anxiety, but I was
wrestling with my own feelings. In the beginning, I was a bit shocked at
all of this, especially the doctor's suggestion that I buy him some bras.
But once I took him to the department store, I couldn't help getting
'into' buying him these pretty under things. I realized that I fell right
into thinking of him as like a daughter. Like the daughter I never had.
For some reason, it actually made me excited to thing that my son was
wearing a bra and panties.
And that was how I found myself that night, in my bed, aroused, thinking
of my beautiful boy in his bra and panties. As I touched myself, my mind
wandered; I thought about getting him a darling pair of short shorts, a
cute top that would not completely hide his bra or his bust, and maybe
some wedges. Jordie had long shapely legs that any girl would envy. If I
could get him to shave his legs, he would look darling! A cute pixie cut,
and some little gold hoops, and he would be completely adorable! At that,
I felt myself come one last time, and I slipped into blissful sleep.....
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