Manboobs
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Boobs free porn video
"Are you absolutely sure you aren't taking anything, Robert?"
"I'm quite sure, Dad. You know I've been to the doctors several times and
she's confirmed that there's absolutely nothing unusual showing in my
blood tests, hasn't she?"
"True. That's except for the fact that your oestrogen levels are at the
top end of the range for a boy of your age, although not beyond it."
"So why do you keep asking me? You know I can't help it and the doc says
it will probably go away when I get a bit older!"
"I'm sorry, but you've been like this for three years now and, if
anything, it's getting even worse. I have trouble acknowledging that you
are my son and I don't like it!"
"You don't like it? Well, I'm sorry about that, Dad. How do you think I
feel about it? I've got two very jealous sisters who would give their eye
teeth to have the same problem and a mother who seems to be mainly
concerned with ensuring I do everything possible to accept the problem
and keep healthy in body and never mind my mind!"
Don't you ever criticise your mother! She is only ever concerned for your
welfare."
This discussion was an almost weekly event. My problem started when I was
about 13 years old and had been getting gradually worse ever since. I'm
now 16 and there has been no improvement over this period whatsoever.
My problem? You may well have guessed by this time and you would almost
certainly be right.
I suffer from gynecomastia. I'm a boy with boobs!
I know it's not that uncommon. Lots of boys go through a phase of growing
a small pair of breasts which then disappear in the vast majority of
cases and, even when they don't, they are rarely big enough to cause any
real embarrassment.
For me, however, this isn't the case. I started off at 13 looking like a
typical case and the doctor said to leave them for the time being as they
usually go away in a short time. They didn't! Starting with a pair of
tiny AA tits which were little more than slightly conical projections on
my chest, I have grown over this time to a curvaceous and generous C cup
that most women would be proud of. They bounce, they jiggle and, apart
from the fact that I still appear to have male nipples and areolae, they
behave just like a woman's would.
My second problem is that, far from showing any signs of reduction, I'm
still growing with no sign that I'm even slowing down! My sisters,
Lucinda and Anita, one and two years older than me are both B cup girls
and both tend to stare at my chest in quite an embarrassing fashion.
"Can I have your chest when you've finished with it, Bob?" asked Lucinda.
"How does it feel to have such a beautiful bouncy pair?"
Anita piped up. "They really are wasted on a boy, though. Can I swap with
you, Bob?"
My mother is a different problem entirely, whatever my father might say!
She treats me like a daughter. At least, she treats my chest that way!
I can understand the mechanics of what she says, but as for the rest,
well!
"Robert darling, you really do have to look after your breasts, you know.
At your size you need to support them. I'll find you some bras and I want
you to wear them full time until you have reduced fully. If you allow
them to sag like that they will stretch and also hurt as you move about."
Find me some bras, she did. Nice plain, white, cotton ones? No! Lucinda
and Anitas' cast-offs as they moved from AA trainers to an A and then a B
cup. All of them nylon and satin with lace and ribbon decoration which
she refused to remove. I ended up with a drawer full of teen fashion bras
which I was required to wear all day, every day.
I had a choice at bedtime. Wear a bra all night as well or wear a nightie
with built-in support. The girls wore extremely short frilly nylon or
satin ones, of course What a choice!
This continued until I was starting to overflow my sister's cast-off B
cups. Finally, I thought, I'll get some "ordinary" bras and cotton
nighties.
Not a chance! Mum bought me C cup bras from the same sources as always so
my breasts were contained in lacy nylon or satin cups as usual.
Apparently my chest was to be treated as a sort of part daughter for the
foreseeable future. Worse still, some of the bras were padded as well,
making my bust look even bigger!
"Well, I'm sorry, dear but they didn't have that pattern in an unpadded
version."
So why get that version at all? All I need is support and she goes all
out to give me an extremely feminine looking bust!
"I can't see what the problem is, Robert. It's not as if you are walking
around in your underwear, is it? When anyone can see you, you are fully
dressed and the fact that you wear fashionable bras can't be seen."
I'd been taken out of school two years ago when my bust was beginning to
cause problems, comments and bullying. I was now home tutored by my
mother and a friend of the family who was a qualified teacher. Mrs Taylor
was a very nice lady who claimed she understood my problem and was happy
to support me and my mother.
Her support was worrying. I got the impression that, although she had
been told what the problem was, she thought I was changing into a girl.
She called me Bobbi and spelled it that way whenever she marked written
work. She was a "knitter" and occasionally, she would make me a present
of a jumper or cardigan and they were always really feminine in
character. The problem was that I more or less had to wear them on
occasion when she was teaching me or she would start asking me if I
didn't like the style or the colour. Pink with a low front showing off MY
cleavage was certainly not what I wanted!
"Don't upset her, Robert. She is very helpful with your teaching and she
and the family are the only ones who ever see it"
My sisters saw it, of course, and were ready with some interesting
comments.
"Oh My! Bobbi!"
They had heard that too!
"What a beautiful d?colletage! You really need a nice necklace to dangle
down there."
My father's face when he first saw it was a picture! Thunder clouds and
an explosion seemed very close indeed until my mother took him aside and
explained the situation in detail to him. After that, he simply wore a
huge scowl whenever he saw a Taylor-made jumper.
When I finally "achieved" a C cup, It wasn't just bras that she bought
for me. She started to buy me sets for heaven's sakes!
"What are you doing, Mum? What do I want panties for? I'm a boy,
remember! I know I'm a boy with a problem but downstairs is quite OK
thank you. Give them to the girls. I'm sure they'll appreciate them."
"Oh! I suppose I could, but they are a lot bigger round the hips than you
are so they really won't fit. They'll be far too small. I'll tell you
what. Wear them with your nighties. I don't like the sight of your bits
showing below the hem and they'll tidy things up nicely."
Oh, Great! She's for ever adjusting my bras and handling my boobs, but
when it comes to my bits, she wants them covered and 'please do it with
frilly nylon or satin'. I'm beginning to think Mrs Taylor is having a
funny effect on her.
Under persistent pressure of the kind mothers are particularly good at, I
ended up wearing the panties with my nighties. Large boobs in a frilly
nylon or satin top and my bits hidden in frilly nylon or satin panties
under the frilly hem of a far-too-short nightie. I am a boy, I promise!
At least they weren't all pink, just some of them!
Things really came to a head when she bought me a set including
suspenders! Bras I have to have, I need them to restrain my increasingly
pendulous breasts but panties and suspenders! Gawd!
"Mum! What are you thinking of? I know I need bras although I could do
without all the silks and satins and so forth and you have sort have half
convinced me to wear the panties to save your sensibilities but what the
blue blazes do I need suspenders for? I'm a boy. I don't wear stockings!"
"I know, dear. I'm sorry. I buy for the girls as well, you know and I
must have forgotten who I was buying for."
Mm! I wonder! D cups for the girls? Small panties for the girls?
Suspenders for me? I'm not at all sure she didn't actually mean it.
"Give the suspenders to the girls, Mum. I'm sure they'll appreciate
them."
"Well, I can... but they won't have panties or bras to match and you know
how much they like to have matching sets."
Do I? I certainly wasn't in the habit of checking out their underwear, on
or off. Occasionally I did see odd bits around the bathroom or on the
dryer but I had no idea if they had matching sets or not.
A couple of weeks later I found the suspenders in my sock drawer, sitting
alongside its matching bra and a packet of sheer nylons. The message was
very clear, but I just couldn't be bothered to have another argument with
Mum about them, so there they stayed.
The rest of the family were starting to take a more direct interest in me
and my predicament. Nicola walked into my room without knocking and only
wearing a bra and panties and carrying a large unidentified bundle while
I stood there in just a pair of very frilly white satin panties and apart
from getting really a good eyeful of my boobs, she asked "I've got loads
of old panties you might like, Bobbi. I know I'm bigger round the hips
than you are now but these should fit you very nicely. Would you like
them? Any you don't want, just toss them in the bin."
She placed the bundle onto my bed and wandered out.
Lucinda was right behind her with another bundle and with no more clothes
on. "We've also looked through our underwear drawers and have dug out all
the slips, tights, nightdresses and so forth that we don't need any more.
Same applies, chuck anything you don't need. Don't go away, there's more
to come."
Anita appeared again.
"Nice boobs, Bobbi! Here's a box of shoes you can have and I think
Lucinda has a pile or two of clothes for you as well."
Lucinda duly obliged with arms full of skirts, blouses, jumpers, dresses
and a pair of high-heeled boots. She walked up to the bed and placed them
alongside the other deliveries before walking up to me and planting a
lipstick covered kiss on both boobs.
"Mm! They are nice, aren't they!
I nearly fainted. Mum then walked in.
"Put a bra on dear. You really don't want your breasts to sag do you? Do
that and then I'll help you put all your nice new clothes away."
I was still having regular visits to the doctors and she (it had to be,
didn't it!) was still of the opinion that I should be left to grow as
premature removal might have adverse effects, so she said. I wondered if
she was one of the weirdos who liked turning boys into girls or if she
just wanted to use me to produce her grand paper which would put her on
the world stage. My parents swore by her so there was no chance of
another doctor having a say.
Over the following year I carried on growing into a very full D cup. I
seemed to have breasts everywhere. Mum was still buying me her own choice
of bra and as I had a very great need for a lot of support, I was left
with no option but to wear the balconette and demi bras she bought.
Whether I liked it or not, I was reduced to displaying a massive amount
of cleavage, in particular in my Taylor-nade jumpers.
My sisters were almost slavering over my tits. They offered me necklaces
with big pendants that would lie between my monsters as well as various
tops that would barely cover my bra cups. Mum was still buying me sets,
often including suspenders and accompanied by yet more packs of sheer
stockings, some of them even lacy topped.
It didn't take too long before I began to realise that my underwear
drawers were changing character completely. I seemed to have fewer and
fewer socks, underpants and vests and increasingly large amounts of what
was very obviously ladies lingerie. Half the time I had no choice but to
wear it as I had nothing else clean to put on and going commando didn't
appeal to me at all.
My seventeenth birthday was, for me, a complete disaster! Mum went a
stage further and bought me another set but this time there was a basque
rather than a suspender belt, Lucinda provided a pendant ear-ring and
choker set, the ear-rings being for pierced ears, no less. Mrs Taylor
decided that it was obviously time I did better and gave me a short
pencil skirt and kitten heels to go with my jumpers and all the underwear
she knew Mum and the girls had bought for me.
I was just about ready to curl up into a little ball and die when Dad did
it for me. Two days after my birthday, he had a heart attack and died.
It took about 6 months to sort out all the ramifications: burial, bank
accounts, insurances and so forth and for Mum to finally start taking
some notice about what was going on around her. With help from the three
of us, she finally came out of her fugue and started to run the household
again.
I had continued to grow into an E cup but apparently I had finally slowed
down to such an extent that the doctor was of the opinion that that was
where I would end up.
I have news for you. E cup boobs take up a lot of volume and have a great
deal of inertia! My bras were nothing short of an engineering wonder.
They supported and restrained my boobs so that they didn't wobble, jiggle
or bounce - much! There was a lot of weight there however, and it didn't
pay to turn round quickly. You might stop, but your boobs would try very
hard to continue on their way, and take you with them!
What was I to do? I hadn't been to school for four years. I had a massive
pair of boobs that were going their own way, My hair was long, Mum had
trimmed it from time to time but I had been nowhere near a barber and the
majority of my male clothes now seemed to have morphed into the female
variety. I had bras galore, plenty of panties, pretty frilly ones, of
course. Stockings, suspenders, even that basque, an ever increasing
number of skirts and jumpers from Mrs Taylor, jewellery from the girls.
It didn't take much imagination to realise that being a girl was going to
be an easier option than being a boy. The icing on the cake for the rest
of the family was when the cost of removing my breasts along with all
the follow-ups was considerably more than completing the job and removing
my "bits". I was totally basted, boiled, fried and kippered.
Mum now had three daughters and I wasn't a boy any more!
Clover
- 17.09.2022
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