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My Boobs & Me - Intro
🕑 Added 2022-09-14 14:00:17 +0000 UTCALL STORY LIST | Parts - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
It really all began in my late-ish teenage for me. ok so I realize now there had been signs before that, but I'd not paid them much notice. Little things, significant now that I could put them into context, but seemingly unimportant at first.
The acne started it, the typical teenage problem really, with all the raging hormones and so on, it wasn't too bad but it did cause me some concern. Mum and Dad both kept trying to reassure me, tell me that I'd grow out of it, and so on, but like all teenagers, I thought it was the end of the world. It did hammer my chances with the girls at school, at a time when everyone else in the class was pairing off I was at something of a disadvantage.
Eventually, my parents decided to do something about it, before the start of my last year. With exams due at the end of the year and the possibility of college I really did want to do well. I went to the doctor and was prescribed some tablets, nothing really special about that. And they did begin to have an effect, my skin began to clear. OK, it may not have been the pills, I was on a health-food kick at the time, salads and low-fat and low-cholesterol foods, anything which might make a difference. My friend Peter said he'd tried some sort of herbal derivative and it had helped him, so I gave that a go.
It was about a month after that I noticed the beginnings of my 'problem'. It had started with a bit of a rash, just itchy, nothing nasty, under my arms of all places. Again I'd gone to the doc and he'd prescribed a mild steroid cream, just to smear gently over the affected area for a week or two.
The itching stopped. And the swelling started. And I began to get hungry, especially for cheese and milk and cream and stuff. I began to put weight on, but not on my waist. On my breasts! The swelling got out of hand quite quickly, after only ten days or so my flattish manly-ish chest was sporting two definite mounds. It was embarrassing! I didn't tell my parents at first, just carried on going to school, wearing a loose sweater whenever I could but things soon couldn't be hidden anymore. I just had to tell them.
One evening I did. Naturally, they were both very worried, as soon as they saw the evidence, Mum went with me to the doctor's again the very next morning. He was worried too, I think he'd not come across a case like mine before. He referred me as a matter of urgency to the local hospital for some tests, he even rang them up there and then to be sure I could be fitted in immediately. And Mum drove us straight there. They did blood tests, urine tests, and various others, rather mechanical really. And then we went home.
It didn't ease my mind when our own doctor rang Mum at home that evening. He'd had the tests rushed through and the results faxed to him, and could we come in again the next morning at the end of the surgery to see him?
"Well, Harry, the good news is that we've got something positive from the results. I admit yesterday I was puzzled but I did some research last night. I found seven cases like yours in the UK, all in the past five years. And everyone has been cleared up totally satisfactorily"
"Well doctor," said my mother. "That's a relief. A big relief. So you can suggest some treatment."
"Yes, I can, Mrs. Davies. But not yet. That's the bad news. It has happened rather more quickly than in any of the other cases but the blood tests do show that it is totally reversible. The difficulty is that it's going to take a little time, maybe as much as several months, even a year."
"A year! Oh no!"
That was my comment.
"Oh no!" was my Mum's comment.
"Well, maybe not so long. But there have been major changes in Harry's hormonal system, we can't just rush in and try to undo them. It might do more harm than good."
The doctor went on to explain. As some sort of side-effect to the treatments I'd been having, as well as a minor initial condition, I was developing MPMs, 'masculine pseudo-mammaries'. They weren't real breasts, obviously, but they did look like female breasts. It would take some time to settle down my hormones before I could be given the best treatment.
"Look, Mrs. Davies. Like I said, I was worried yesterday but the prognosis really is very positive. By this time next year Harry should be totally back to normal, and permanently so."
We left the surgery, both of us with confused emotions. Dad's reaction was the same when he got home that evening and we told him.
"But what about Harry's exams? OK, he'll be able to do them next June but this is going to disrupt his education. He won't be ready for the exams."
I was sitting in a large armchair, feeling sorry for myself, and feeling the weight of the two bulges in front of me. "Mum, Dad, there is NO WAY I'm going into class looking like this. I could take a bit of general ribbing, but like this, I'd be a total laughing stock. You HAVE to do something about that."
And they did. Give Dad his due, when he decides someone has to do something he will write and call and chase to get it done. Within a week, just before the very end of the holidays, we had a visitor. I didn't really want to see any visitors at that time but Dad had persuaded me, even taking the day off work for it. He showed the man into our living room.
"Harry, this is David Carlisle. He's a home-study tutor. I've got the school governors to fund his coming here, or you going to his house, to give you individual tuition until you're able to go back into class. Mr. Carlisle, this is my son, Harry."
I got up carefully, so as not to cause any frontal 'wobbling' on my part, and shook his hand. Then I sat down again, equally carefully, while Mr. Carlisle asked exactly what stage I was at in my various studies, taking copious notes.
"Well, Mr. Davies. And Harry. I think I can help you. Maths and Geography and Biology aren't a problem, I've tutored students in all those at this level. And the English Language I know of a decent self-study program Harry can follow. Maybe one or two afternoons a week. I have one other student at the moment, she sees me each afternoon. So if mornings are all right for you we can go ahead, Mondays to Thursdays if that's OK. Starting Monday?"
Dad and Mum were both pleased, this Mr. Carlisle seemed a nice man. And, while I'd been telling him about my various courses and so on, he clearly knew his stuff.
"Harry, you never know," said Mum. "With this private tuition, you may be able to do even better in your exams next year." Good point.
The first awkward moment came the following Monday when we broke for a bit of air in the middle of our Maths session. We were sitting in Mr. Carlisle's garden in the late summer sunshine when he asked me if I wanted to tell him just why I was getting the home tuition.
"You don't have to tell me, Harry, if you don't want to. But some of the students I've had in the past like to get it off their chest."
I almost choked on my orange squash!
"I know yours is some sort of medical problem, the school governors told me that when they approached me. You know, I've had pupils with all sorts of problems. Broken homes, drug problems, and youngsters with criminal backgrounds. And disabled pupils too."
"Oh I wouldn't count myself as disabled," I said. "Just a very embarrassing medical problem. That's why I wear loose sweaters."
"Yes?"
I decided to tell him.
"I've got a hormonal problem, I've developed female-looking breasts. They won't stay, though, it'll take quite a few months but they will go away. I should be back to normal in a year."
He didn't say anything for a while, he looked rather worried. Anyway, we got on with the Maths. It was on Wednesday, in Maths again, that he commented again. I was a little unsettled, physically that is, though the worst of my symptoms had lessened since I'd stopped all the medications the acne was coming back again a little and I itched in other places on my body. Not in a major way but the weather was still quite warm and the big sweater and baggy trousers were uncomfortable.
"You OK, Harry? You don't see it. If you're going to study properly, you know, you really do have to be comfortable."
"It's OK, Mr. Carlisle. Just a bit uncomfortable, that's all."
"Uncomfortable?"
"Yes, just a bit tender in some places."
"Can I see?" There was nothing at all untoward in his request. Just a concerned adult, a tutor indeed, wanting to find out what a pupil's problem was. I decided I had thought about it, to be honest with him, to show him what my problem was. It was indeed the entire reason I was there.
"I need to warn you, Mr. Carlisle, I am wearing a bra. It's one my Mum got for me, a sports bra, to try to hold things in so I don't get too embarrassed when I come here." We'd decided, since Mr. Carlisle had all his books and stuff at his house it was easier for me to be tutored there, he was only five minutes walk from where we lived and I could manage that. Suitably clothed of course. And in that respect, the bra helped, though it really did itch.
I lifted up my sweater to show him. I suppose he could see my 'swellings', the two of them, though I didn't take the bra off.
"And in case you're wondering, they're a 38-C at the moment. The doctor says they'll probably peak at about 42-D and then subside."
"Oh my! And when will that be?"
"A few weeks, maybe months. He can't really tell. But he did say once that starts happening they should go down quite quickly."
Mr. Carlisle thought for a moment. He seemed to be daydreaming. Then he coughed a little.
"OK, Harry, try to concentrate. Meanwhile, I'll have a think, see how you could maybe manage things better."
And for a few days that was that, we just got on with the studying. Then one day a week or so later he came up with a suggestion.
"Harry, look, I've got something to show you. It might make things a little better for a while. I spent a rather embarrassing afternoon in the Ladies' Dept in Roddhams yesterday. Please, if these aren't alright please say so."
He took a bag from a drawer in the old-fashioned dresser we were sitting next to in his dining room. I saw the big green-and-white Roddhams logo. I opened the bag and pulled out the package
'Lingerie set, 38-D, Deep Purple.
I looked at the label. I looked at the contents through the clear packaging.
"I thought they might be OK. The size is the nearest they had to what you said. And the color might not be perfect but it was either that or red in that size, I thought that might be best."
I was amazed. Puzzled and amazed. I split open the seal at the top of the packet carefully, I always did that in case the size might be wrong and they might have to go back. I slid the contents out onto the table in front of me. They looked incongruous on top of my Biology folder.
"Well, I think,"
"That's OK Harry. Leave it if you don't think it's a good idea.
"Er - no. It's not that. I just wasn't expecting this."
"I thought it might suit better than what your mother has got you, that's all."
"Well, it might I suppose."
"OK. If you want to try them on you can go into my daughter's room. I thought it might be more comfortable to wear while you study."
"Your daughter?"
"Yes, my daughter Marion. She doesn't actually live here of course, but she keeps some of her stuff here for when she visits. It's mainly clothing she used to wear when she was younger, she's just never got around to clearing them out. No need to really, they don't get in my way, she lives in London now. She's in Australia at the moment though, backpacking says she's trying to forget her birthday. It's a special one, you know, one with a '0' at the end."
