My Big Change

My Big Change
(A story for Dimensions)
As I started my 16th year of life and end my sophomore year in high school, I awaited my puberty. I had learned in Sex Ed class that it would never be easy. But I never thought I would have one of the hardest ones ever.
It all started with an itching in my nipples. At first, I did not think about it. Then my nipples were hard most of the time, just like when I came out of the shower. And then the aereolas under the nipple got bigger. But when I felt lumps under it all, I showed my mother, and she took me to the doctor.
The doctor told me that it was a conditioned called gynecomastia. He told me that it was normal and it would go away. He said that many teen boys grow small breasts as they mature. I must have been absent they day they covered that in Sex Ed. Or maybe the teacher didn't want to embarrass anyone.
However, that summer, by the time July came around, I had become quite chesty. I showed my mother who could not believe it. She made an appointment with the doctor again, and I went the next day. The doctor could not believe how big I had gotten. He told me that I needed an endocrinologist. He also ordered a number of tests to rule out anything serious, plus to check my hormone balance.
A week later, I went to the specialist who inspected and felt my chest. He looked at the test results and told me that he had good and bad news. The good news is that there was nothing life threatening. But the bad news, is that he added another “mastia” to my diagnosis. In addition to having gynecomastia, I also had macromastia. He explained it was rare, especially in boys. But it is the fast and very large development of breasts. But he told me from the results of the test, that it was a mild case. But he warned me that even a mild case could be quite serious.
But then after trying to digest the bad news, I received more. The doctor told me that I was on the borderline of being at the point where he tells his gynecomastia patients to wear a bra. And since I was going to grow a lot more, I definitely needed to wear one. What a rude awakening for a boy in high school trying to be cool.
We talked to the doctor a bit more. He told me that I had a hormone imbalance, but that trying to correct it could do more hard than good. He told me that my hormones were so out of whack that it would be like trying to hit a moving target. He said that after my breasts stopped growing, I could have surgery to remove them. I asked if my puberty would be affected. He told me that he was afraid so. He said that with my estrogen count, I would really be going through a female puberty. He told me that when I am several years older, they could try to remove some of the female aspects of my puberty, and try to add some male. He told me that I would never be tall, but perhaps male hormones would cause my voice to deepen and my genitals to grow somewhat. He told me that my hips would broaden. I was starting to sob, and he also told me that the hormones would make me more emotional than men are.
I went home stunned. My mother did not know what to say to me. She also had to tell my father that his son was going to be more like a daughter.
I was pretty good in athletics. I wasn't first-string varsity or anything like that that, but I was good in the youth leagues. The next day, I had a baseball game. I had a pretty good hit, and started running to first base. I was more self conscious of my breasts. Someone on the other side commented that I had big girlie boobs, and I slowed down, and was tagged out. I expected my team, who had many of my best friends on it, to razz the other team. But instead, they razzed me. I was so hurt that I spent the rest of the game by myself. I never went back to finish the season, and wouldn't even talk to the coach.
At that point, I stayed home, and left only to go to the doctor. I stayed in my room most of the time. The night after the game, my mother came in with a tape measure. I knew what she was going to do, and I started to tear up again. By this time, my nipples were so thick, and my aereolas were so dark. It was so embarrassing. I picked up my breasts as my mother measured underneath. She then measured around the breasts. I was a 36B.
The next day, my mother came back with 3 bras. One was a teencharm 36B (the biggest they make), a cheap WalMart special, and a Playtex Cross Your Heart. While the Teencharm fit, my breasts had already become too womanly, and the thin straps and sides just did not give me the support I needed. The WalMart was OK, but the Playtex fit and supported the best.
I continued to stay home. I had not been outside in a month. I sat and watched TV, went on the computer once and a while, and loved to snack while I was staying around the house.
One morning, my mother called me downstairs, and I did not come. She came upstairs to get me. I could not get my clothes to button. Not my pants, nor my shirt. And I really had to stretch my bra to fasten it. Once I did, my breasts poured out over the top. My mother took out her measuring tape again, this time measuring not only my chest, but all of me.
That night she came home with new clothes. My pants were two sizes larger; my shirts were also two sizes larger. My bra was now a 38C. The clothes fit very well. My mother also made an appointment with the doctor. When I went to the doctor, my mother asked him about my weight gain. The doctor asked what I did before I started to develop, and what I did after. Before I was very active in sports, walking bicycling. Afterwards, watching TV and eating. I told the doctor there was no way I was going outside, and even if I did, I could not exercise with big breasts. The doctor warned me that body fat was fuel that would cause my breasts to grow even faster. I did not know what was going to happen to my body. But I did know one thing; I wasn't going to bring it outside where anyone could see it. Going to the doctor was the first time I had been out in a while, and it was also the last.
The next day, my mother came up to my room, and told me I could not stay in my room. She told me that I had to go to school in another month. I told her that there was no way I was going to school. She reminded me that I was a good student, and that I wanted to be an architect, and that I could not ruin my life because of my condition. I told her no way.
The next morning at breakfast, my mother told me that she had talked it over with my father, and that she would home school me. I was lucky that she was pretty good in science and math as well as liberal arts.
Summer had ended, with me gaining more weight, growing bigger boobs, and my hips starting to round out. I was now into a D cup bra. They were not only larger in the cups, but in the straps, back, and sides. My hair had gotten long because I refused to go to the barber. While I kept it clean, I certainly did not do anything else with it.
My mother started to teach me classes every day. It went well, other than she could see my growing. After several days, she noticed that my clothes were tight again. I hated the fact that my mother could see how much I was gaining, and how fast my boobs were growing.
Fall was here, well at least from what I read and saw from the window and my classes continued. As I grew even more, I was so uncomfortable. When my mother asked how I slept, I told her I could not sleep. My pajamas were too constricting. Since she was also good at sewing, she said she would make me a nightshirt. It looked like a dress to me. It has extra material in the chest. I hated to see myself in it. My boobs were sticking out on top, my belly stuck out in front, and my hips were starting to show now too.
Several days later, my mother mentioned that it looked like I was sleeping better. I told her that my sleeping clothes were more comfortable. She asked how my daytime clothes were. I told her it was miserable. My clothes were always tight because I was gaining, my shirts did not fit over my D cups, and my butt was too small for my pants, even when the waist was loose.
She made me some “day” nightshirts. They were much more comfortable. But whatever my mother called them, they looked like muumuus to me. But I was not in a position to be picky. Nobody but my family could see my situation, and they were so much more comfortable.
Several days later my mother saw me, and said, “You've become quite a BBW, haven't you?” I said, “A what?” and then she told me, “Never mind.”
I noticed there was a chat room called teen BBWs. I still was not sure what it meant, but it seemed to have something to do with women. I came in the room, and lurked. After seeing that none of the chat really had anything in common because everyone was just chatting about general things. I was about to leave, when I got an IM from someone named Marcia. She asked if I was male or female. I told her that I was not sure what a BBW was, but I thought the room was supposed to be all female.
She explained that a BBW was a large woman, but a lot of men go to the room because they are admirers. She then asked if I was a large female. I told her not really. She replied back, “Not really?” “Well, are you big?” “Yes, sort of,” replied? “Sort of?” she replied again. “Well, I wasn't a few months ago, but I am getting bigger,”
She then went on to explain that she too was thin. At the end of her freshman year, she was in a car accident. She was hurt pretty bad. She said between the bad news she got, and not much activity she gained a lot of weight. She said that everyone thought she was the most beautiful and popular girl in her class. But she said that the guys she dated were jerks, and now that she is fat, she likes the men she attracts better. I felt uncomfortable asking about what her bad news was.
She then asked if I was male or female again. I told her I was “Male—sort of.” She asked if I was one of those people who were changing from one sex to another. I told her not on purpose. “So what does that mean, you are growing little boobies?” she asked. I then told her that my problem was quite severe. I had D cups, and was still growing. I was having other female puberty changes, including hips, and that I was becoming feminized. She then asked if I was going to be a woman. “God, I hope not,” I said. But then I told her about how my body was changing so rapidly; I was wearing muumuus.
She then told me that she “had more than me.” She told me that she was DD. I told her I was still growing, and could be quite larger. She told me that she was still gaining too. She said that she wasn't gaining as quickly as she once did.
We changed the subject, and just chatted. I was so amazed about what we had in common. She loved architecture too, and wanted to be an architect too. The most amazing thing is that she lived pretty close. Her high school was only one away from mine. We exchanged email addresses.
I looked forward to every night chatting with her. She was the only contact I had with anyone my age. We talked about meeting, but I could not believe that anyone would want to be with a teenage boy with D cup breasts and wearing nothing but muumuus. I was afraid that meeting her would ruin everything, and I'd end up with nothing. We exchanged pictures, but my picture was taken before I started to become feminized. She was gorgeous. She was quite fat, but I couldn't complain, because I was fat, too. I never made fun of fat people, but now I know what it is like. She had long blonde hair, and pretty bangs that made her pretty face even prettier. She had very nice proportions.
She kept insisting that we meet. I kept putting it off, but finally decided it would be better to know if our relationship had any future. She had a license, so she was able to come to my house. I would have had a license by now, but my condition put everything on hold. We made arrangements to meet the following Saturday around noon. She said she would bring a pizza, since she knew that I would not go out in public.
I didn't know if I should try to wear some male clothes, although I did not have any that fit. And nothing looked male with D cups pushing out on it. And besides, this is who I am now. If Marcia can't accept it, better I should know now.
Saturday came, and I was both very anxious to meet her. But also very scared. If we did not hit it off, I would loose the only friend I currently had. When she came to the door, my parents let her in, and directed her downstairs to the den. She was absolutely gorgeous. She had a fat angelic face that was outlined by long blonde hair and bangs. She was wearing a sweater that showed off her large beautiful breasts.
I didn't know what she would think about me. But I suggested that we start with the pizza before it got cold. I figured that if we ate, it would keep the initial awkward moments to a minimum. I brought out some soda and asked what she liked to drink. She chose a regular Coke, and we helped ourselves to the pizza.
After we finished, she told me that she was not sure if she should have had the Diet Coke or the regular Coke. I asked her which she preferred. She told me that she likes regular Coke, but people expect her to drink Diet Coke because she is large. She told me that she did not know what my reaction would be. I told her that I was not in a position to judge her, since I was a fat teenage boy with breasts wearing a dress. She told me that just because I was fat, did not mean that I would find fat girls attractive. She told me that she was worried because most of the guys she dated preferred fat women. I told her that I thought she was very attractive. And that if I did not like fat girls before I met her, I certainly did now. This also took a lot of pressure of me because now I knew she was worried what she looked like, so we were both on the same insecure level. It also meant that the concern was getting me to like her, as opposed to figuring how she could get out of the date as fast as she could.
The conversation flowed very well. She told me more details about her car accident during her freshman year. I was amazed at how similar the situation was to mine. She was a cheerleader and one of the most popular girls at the school. As she was hospitalized, she was gaining massive amounts of weight. She had lost many of friends, both male and female, who were only into looks. Her best friends were calling her gross. Because it happened at her puberty, she was also dealing with growing large breasts and becoming fat at the same time.
We then had a long discussion about bras. She said that everything was so simple before her accident. She was wearing a 32AA Teencharm bra that had little tiny straps. All of a sudden, she was thrown into needing a support bra, and she was constantly outgrowing them as she piled on the pounds plus went through puberty. We continued to have a detailed chat about bras, when she just told me how wonderful it was that she had someone who understood what she went through.
After a pretty long discussion about how we got fat and grew breasts, the discussion turned to architecture. I was amazed by how much she knew. I had never met anyone who was into as much as I was. Although I was starting to wonder how I would ever go to college when I couldn't even go out my front door.
As evening came, we sat down on the couch and watched TV. Before I knew it, we were holding hands and cuddling. Then I looked down. I saw two large bellies and 4 protruding breasts on the couch. I never pictured making out looking like this. But it sure felt good.
The time had come for our meeting to end. It seemed to be a success on all levels. I certainly hoped we could see each other again. We did agree to, and I had my hopes up. We had a quick kiss goodnight.
On Sunday, I was online waiting for Marcia to come on line, and hopefully validate our agreement to see each other. Of course, she had a life, and my whole life turned out to be the computer. She finally came online around noon, and we chatted for quite a while. She seemed as concerned as I was about making sure that we would see each other again. We made plans to meet again on Saturday. I would provide the pizza again—delivery.
Saturday came, and it seemed that no matter how long we chatted, there was always more to talk about. It was easier on both of us, knowing that we truly liked each other. And while my parents stayed out of our way, they seemed to like Marcia, and enjoyed talking to her on her way in and out.
As the evening came, we again got into our romantic position on the couch. I think we were both looking forward to it. I don't think either one of us was really into being too sexual, but it just felt so right. We held hands, and then I jokingly said that Ann Landers said we had to keep both feet on the floor. Marcia told me not to worry about “anything happening.” I asked her what she meant. She then told me that she had something to tell me, but wasn't sure this was the right time. I was worried about what it was. Did she have a boyfriend and feel sorry for me? I just didn't know what it was. She had started to tear up, and then told me that because of the auto accident, she could never have children. That did not bother me in the least, and I told her. I told her that in my condition, I couldn't have sex anyway. My body had become too feminine, and I never developed masculinely.
She told me that I guess that was another thing we had in common, although perhaps my problem could be fixed at some point, and hers couldn't be. She then held me tighter as I reassured her that it didn't matter to me. She then asked me about my sexual feelings. She asked if my nipples were sensitive. I told her that they become very sore at times. But then she said, but don't you touch them and get excited? I guess I had never really touched them in that way. She asked if she could touch my breasts, and I told her she could. I was a little embarrassed by it, but felt comfortable with her. At first, she lightly touched my breasts. Then my nipples puffed up. It felt so good. And then she touched the nipples through my bra and muumuu. She touched them just right, and I was in heaven. I had never had such a sexual feeling in my life. I asked her how she knew about it, and she asked if I wanted to touch hers. I thought I might touch the wrong thing, or not find her nipples, but it was quite easy. And she let out a moan to let me know I touched the right place.
Our relationship continued to blossom, but Marcia wished we could go out in public. Maybe because it was some guys she dated didn't want to be seen with a BBW. But I think she knew it was because I could not take these D cups out into the world. I was still gaining and still growing. The 42D bra, was so tight around the back, it was hurting. And my breasts were hanging out of the top of cups. Even my muumuu, which was meant to last through several sizes of weight gain, was starting to get tight.
Online, Marcia said she had a major idea. She said she would tell me what it was when we met again. We were meeting most Saturdays and Sundays, and spending a lot of time chatting on line the rest of the week. We had gotten to the point where we called each other boyfriend and girlfriend.
On the follow Saturday, we met again. I was curious as to what he idea was. She told me that she had an idea of how I could leave the house. I told her that there was no way I was going out like this. She said that Halloween was two weeks away, and that lots of boys dress as girls. I told her that anyone who was my age and dressed as a girl was probably a transsexual. She looked in my eyes, and said, “Please.” I could not turn her down. I knew that I might end up losing her. She told me that she was invited to a small house party by a friend at her school.
She then told me that I would have to prepare. I asked her how. She told me that I would need new clothes, some makeup, and fix my hair. She asked if she could measure me. At that point, I sort of just decided to let her do what she wanted to me. It was her friends who would see me anyway. And I guess that was the confirmation of our relationship—letting her get her way. She said she would go shopping at the mall the next day which was Sunday. She would meet me afterwards.
She came in with several bags. She handed me a bra- a size 44DD. It was a little tight, but a big improvement over the 42D I was wearing. She also pulled out a dress. It was a size 24W. I tried it on, and it fit pretty well. She also got me woman's shoes and pantyhose. I did not have much hair on my legs, so I was able to wear the pantyhose without shaving. I was more comfortable in my old muumuus, but I was determined not to let anything bother me. Marcia told me that she would save the cosmetics for the big day. I spent about an hour in my new dress. I then put on my old muumuu, but left on my new bra. It gave me a lot more projection, so the muumuu was very tight across my breasts.
I had told my mother about what Marcia was planning. She thought it was a good idea, and good to get me out of the house for the first time in months. She asked if I wanted to wear other clothes other than muumuus, and I told her no. She said that she would get me a few new things. She asked me about my bra, and I told her that Marcia had gotten me a 44DD, but it was still too tight around the back, but only a bit small on the cups. The next day, she brought me a couple of new muumuus and a 46DD bra. It fit well, but I could not believe how big I had gotten.
The big day had finally come, and the party was on a Saturday night. When Marcia came over at 12, she came with a bag of things. She told me that she was ready to help me get ready. I told her it was awfully early. She said that it would take time. I had commented that Halloween costumes are supposed to be funny. She said that she wanted me to look as much as I could like a girl. I figured with 46DD's that would not be hard.
She helped me wash my hair, and then she trimmed it, and put it up. She let it dry, and we just talked for most of the afternoon. We had a light dinner, and then she really went to work on me. But instead of just doing things, she was explaining how to do it. She started brushing my hair, and then asked me to keep doing it as she started with the makeup. My hair was pretty long, since I had not been to the barber's in about six months. It's not that I liked long hair. I didn't want to leave the house, and I could not see me sitting on the barber's chair with these huge breasts. I wore it in a ponytail, to keep it out of my face. But for the first time it was long and feminine. Not real long—but it stopped between my face and shoulder.
She put the makeup on me. Not too much, but enough. Foundation, a little eye makeup, and lipstick. She then helped me get into my dress and pantyhose. My shoes were feminine, but not high heels. She had me look in the mirror. I looked pretty good. Actually too good. I was frightened by what I saw. And also frightened thinking about the rest of the night. She handed me a pocket book to carry.
She drove me to the party. It was about a half an hour away. I was glad it was dark, so that no one in my neighborhood would see me. I was very nervous about meeting Marcia's friends. I felt like a freak. It was bad enough being fat and being a boy with huge breasts. But now I was in public wearing a dress and carrying a purse.
When we got there, Marcia was saying hello to everybody, and being introduced to those who she didn't know. She introduced me as her friend. I was a little hurt that she did not introduce me as her boyfriend. Everyone was in costume. One of her friends, Mary, asked why I wasn't wearing a costume. It dawned on me that not everyone knew I was a boy. Now I was wondering who knew I was a boy, and who didn't. Since I never had a male puberty, my voice never changed. Luckily my name is Chris, so it did not give away my gender.
After a while, I got involved in the conversations, and felt less self-conscious. I really liked Marcia's friends. They were all down to earth. I was able to avoid any discussion about my past. I just told them that I had gone to another high school, and was home schooled this past year due to a medical problem. That kept them from asking any more.
The party lasted until 11. Marcia asked me if I wanted to go through the drive through. I agreed, since no one would notice me since she was driving, and I really enjoyed being out. We stopped and Wendy's and got a large frosty each. We parked in a secluded area where no one would see us, and enjoyed our dessert. After that we stayed there for about a half an hour holding hands and looking at the stars.
We met again at my house again the next day. She asked how I liked the party. I told her it was OK, and that it would be nice if every day were Halloween. She then told me that she wanted to have a serious talk. I was worried that perhaps her friends didn't like me and she wanted to break up.
She told me that I could not stay in my home for another six months, or even a year. She told me that there was a reason why she did not tell anyone what gender I was. She said that not one of her friends suspected I was a boy. She also said there was a reason why she explained to me how to put on makeup. She wanted me to learn how to do it. I asked what she was getting at. She told me that if I didn't feel comfortable being a boy with boobs in public, then I should go out as a girl. The conversation was getting a little too intense, so we just sat and watched TV and necked a little.
Later on, we continued the conversation. She said that since no one I talked to knew I was a boy, nobody in public would know either. She told me it would be so much fun to eat out in public, go shopping at the mall, and do other things. I was resisting, when she put her argument in high gear.
I finally agreed that I would try it one more time, and only at night when no one would see me. That was not too hard since it was November, and the nights came early.
The following weekend, we went out on Saturday night to the mall across town. I enjoyed the ride, and we stopped at the drive through again. At the mall, we hit all the large size stores. Marcia got me to buy a lot of things. They were mostly casual things, such as stretch pants, oversized tops, etc. I told her that I did not bring a lot of money. Marcia told me not to worry about it. I found out later that my parents have her $150 to spend on my wardrobe.
It was nice being out in public again. At first I was very self-conscious wondering if anyone would think I was a boy in a dress and nylons. But after walking to the far end of the mall, I was getting out of breath. I didn't know if it was because I haven't walked much lately, or if I was going to always be out of breath because of my size. Then my breasts were getting very sore. At first, it was the nipples getting sore, something that happened a lot because I was still developing. But then it was my 46DD bra digging into my body, especially the straps. My breasts felt very large and very heavy. Marcia knew I was having a hard time, so we walked back slowly stopping only to sit.
When we got home, we sat on the couch and turned on TV. We both tried on our clothes. Before this, all I had was my muumuus and the Halloween dress. So, it was a lot better to be wearing the stretch pants and tops I got. Marcia looked at the strap marks in my skin, and started to rub them. We then sat down. She continued to touch my skin, but she was also touching my nipples, and then I started touching hers. We continued to touch as we watched TV.
The next day, Marcia came to meet me at my house again during the day. She had a package with her. I asked if it was a surprise, and she said she guess it was. It was a new bra. The box it came out of was huge. But it was a huge bra. It had very large wide straps, a 9 inch back with a lot of hooks. The cups were large, and were very thick with a lot of seams. She wanted me to try it on. I tried it on. Marcia helped me with all the hooks. It was comfortable, but really made me stick out.
It was very frightening how my breasts, and the rest of me have grown. I was wearing mostly size 26W's. If I could find 28W or even 30W, I would wear them, since I hated to look at my body in tight clothes.
The next day, Marcia came over and asked how I enjoyed being out. I told her I enjoyed being out, but still felt like a freak. She gave me a talk how everything isn't black or white. And she said that not everyone is 100% male or 100% Female. I told her that I might as well be 100% female. She told me that God gave me a certain body, and that I wore clothes that were appropriate for the body I had. And she said it was probably best to use accessories appropriate for the clothes I wore to avoid attracting attention.
She told me that she knew that I was going through a lot of changes, and that adapting to these changes caused even many more changes. She said that she wanted me to go out more often, but she would not ask for an answer for a couple of days. She wanted me to think it over. She told me that she would support me no matter what, but that it was not healthy to stay at home.
Up until now, my dreams have fallen under several categories. The most frightening is that I am a boy wearing a dress in public, and people start laughing at me. I also had dreams where I am still a boy playing baseball or going to school. Or I might have dreams where I am neither male nor female looking, I guess I am just a soul. However, now I started having dreams where I am very happy and peaceful. However, I am wearing long flowing dresses. I am busty in the dream, but it is not a bad thing. It is just me.
Marcia came over, and after chatting about a few things; she asked if I had given any thought about going out more often. I told her I felt very confused. She said that she could definitely understand that. But I told her that it felt very good to be out again. She reminded me that now was probably the best time to do it. She said that the stores are so busy with Christmas shoppers that everyone is running around so much; they don't have time to check the gender of every other shopper.
But I told her I was still embarrassed to be seen in my area. She said that it was not much of a problem since it gets dark early in the winter. She then suggested we go across town again, but instead of going to a mall, we go to stores along the highway. She said that there were a lot of stores like Fashion Bug Plus that were usually not in malls. She also said that it would be less tiring going a store at a time. I told her that my breasts hurt a lot less with the new bra she bought for me. She told me that she got it at Wal-Mart. But she said that 46DD was the largest it came in.
The next day, she came over after school. I got dressed up in the stretch pants and tops I bought on my last trip. This was my first time out as a BBW dressed casually. I felt a little more comfortable. I guess as comfortable as a boy could with 46DD breasts being supported by a huge work of engineering.
This shopping trip was a further trip to my femininity. And frighteningly enough, a trip further from my life as a boy. But it was also my passport out of my isolation. I kept telling myself that in a year or two, I could have my breasts removed, lose weight, and one day be a man. But the time goes very slow as a teenager. I really loved Marcia, and followed her to wherever she was taking me. Not from store to store, but in life.
We stopped at Wal-Mart, and I bought two more bras. I also bought some stretchy pants. I wanted big tops, but Marcia talked me into buying some sweatshirts, even if it was just for home. I followed her as she looked at jewelry. But she wanted me to buy a few simple things. I still had my boy watch, so we bought a cheap girl watch. I also bought another purse. We stopped at McDonald's. But instead of going through the drive-thru, we ate inside. I guess this was another milestone for me.
As time passed, I went out with Marcia many more times. I did my Christmas shopping. We hit the after Christmas sales. Each time, she took my femininity a little further. But the biggest step was not into a store, but into a hair salon. She picked one at a mall, where there is little loyalty between the workers and the clients. They did a good job in shaping my hair. It had grown pretty long in the past 6 months. Now they had given me bangs and a little pageboy flip.
Over the winter, my father asked if I wanted to continue my driving lessons. I told his yes. I had mastered both the laws and the driving. I was worried about what to tell the clerk about gender. I left it blank. Again it helped being named Chris. I left the gender blank. The first clerk wrote in F, and smiled and said, “We can't leave out any information now, can we?” As she passed it to the typist, she typed in “Christine” instead of Chris, which is all I wrote down. How nice. I am now a female Christine without having to lie. I wondered what I would say once I had my planned change back to maleness. But right now, I was happy. I had my license, and it matched the way I looked now.
While I was not a social butterfly, I had no problem leaving the house at dark, and going out of my area. Most of the time is was with Marcia. Since I had become much more active, my weight had stabilized. Well, it stabilized in most places. My breasts were still growing. During one of out intimate times, Marcia brought up the fact that I was spilling out of my bra. I told her that I could not find a 46F in the style I liked at any store. She brought over a Lane Bryant catalog, and in a short time, I had my order in for 3 46F cup support bras.
I was becoming more feminine. Marcia enjoyed me as her girlfriend when we would shop. She would encourage me to try things on, to try things out. I continued to let my hair grow, and now spent more time on making it pretty. I was buying hair accessories, jewelry, etc. There wasn't much left of me that was masculine. I just didn't feel like worrying about it anymore. I would just go with the flow.
Mom had asked me about what I was going to do about school in my senior year. She was not able to home school me in everything I needed. While I didn't mind going out, I couldn't reappear at my school as Christine. My guidance counselor at school came to my house, since I could not go there. We talked for over an hour. She worked out a solution, which was part home school, part going to night adult classes, and part going to another school. When she told me which one, and it turned out to be Marcia's, I told her I didn't know if I could do that.
That night when I went over to Marcia's, (yes, it was nice to go to her place now), I told her my counselor's suggestion. I was worried that she did not want me in her turf. But she hugged me so tight, I thought she was going to deflate me. I asked if she minded. “Mind? It will be so wonderful!” I told her that it was only for two classes. She said she didn't care. I told her that I would have to go as a girl. “Of Course,” she said. “I went to a lot of trouble to make it so you could go in public. I'm glad it worked out for you.”
On one hand, I was very glad that I found out that passing as a girl gave me the freedom to get out of the house again. But on the other hand, I still felt like a freak. Here I was, a boy almost 17, dressing as a girl, pretending to be a woman. I was over 300 pounds, and had two huge breasts that were still growing. But Marcia made me feel very good.
The weather was breaking now. It brought back thoughts of how I started to develop last summer. Marcia was great at helping me pass as a female. She spent a lot of effort showing me how to do things just as a girl would do it. She also helped me become a BBW. She helped and showed me how to live as a large person. My silent trips to the mall had become easy. But now it would be necessary not to just look like a girl, but act and react as a girl, as I take classes both at a local school, and at the adult education center. But oddly enough, Marcia needed only to help me in the mechanics of being a girl. I had picked up feminine mannerisms on my own. Since I never had a boy puberty, there was no deep voice, no facial hair, etc to hide.
Now that the days were getting longer, I finally felt comfortable enough to leave the house during daylight and even go to local stores. There was no way that anyone who knew me as a 130-pound boy would recognize me as a 300-pound BBW. I had developed my own feminine style that was nothing like my old boy self.
The summer was a lot of fun, but pretty much uneventful. Well, except for another change. Monica and I were at her house in a rather intimate moment. We were touching and fondling each other's breasts, when she got a bit serious. I asked her what the matter was. She said that she hated to tell me, but my F cup bra was getting way too tight. I asked her if that bothered her. “Oh No,” she said. “But I know it has been very hard on you each time you increased a size. I feel bad for you.”
We went on line to look for 46G bras. God, I never knew bras went that far up the alphabet. But I should have known that when the doctor told me I was going to grow really large, I should have believed him. And gaining 150 pounds didn't help either. But then I thought about my life before my change and after. I must say I am much happier now. I found Marcia whom I love very dearly. And while I never considered myself a sissy, I must say I really love the feminine side of life. I even learned to love being large. I love the feel of the way my body jiggles. I love the ways my breasts sway when I walk braless. (Obviously not in public.) We picked out one style and ordered one to see how it felt.
The follow week, Marcia came over and saw the package which contained my bra. She looked at the package and said she thought I ordered only one, and I told her I did. When she took the bra out of the large package, it was HUGE. She slowly unbuttoned my blouse. She then started to take off my old bra in a strip tease fashion. As and after she was taking off my old bra, she gave me most erotic nipple rub I have ever had. She then put on the new bra touching my nipples as much as she could. After that, it took quite a while to get it positioned. There were so many hooks to hook, a lot of fabric to straighten around my back and sides, and of course, a lot of breast to put in the cups.
Fall came, and things were going well. It looks like I had stopped growing at 46G. I was wearing 32W dresses and tops. I could fit 30W bottoms, even some 28W. My weight stabilized at around 320, and I was 5' 8”.
I don't think that two people could have been closer. I was both Marcia's male lover and her female friend. Sometimes we would go shopping and look for clothes. Then we would get romantic as we tried them on at home.
As school started, I would see Marcia in her school. They had to get me a chair and table, because I was just too big for the student chairs. Even if I my stomach and butt fit in the chair, my 48G's would cover the desk top anyway. Even though I passed as a BBW in every way, I was never interested in men. However, while they didn't talk to me very much, they always stared at my breasts.
Since we talked a lot about our dreams to be architects, we also talked about what schools to attend. We both decided to attend the state university. Because of my situation, I was able to talk with the college disabilities department. They were very understanding of my situation. They agreed to let Marcia and I be roommates. This would keep my real gender a secret, and resolve any problems as to what gender roommate I should be assigned. I felt really lucky because it is rare that anyone could have his girlfriend as a roommate.
I was very happy, and got good grades as a senior. Once I stopped growing, the doctor wanted to know what I wanted to do. There really wasn't much of a choice. It seemed like forever since I was a male. I wouldn't know how to act or dress as one now. Yet, I was totally straight, and had no desire to have a sex change. I was happy being a male and living as a female. The doctor would give me enough make hormones to make me function sexually as a male, but keep me looking like a female. I had the best of both worlds.
As the four years of college went by, Marcia and I became soul mates. We were best friends; we were best lovers. We helped each other through the tough school, and we both earned our degrees. We also pledged out love forever, and agreed to get married after we graduated.
We had jobs lined up after we graduated. That July, we became husband and wife. It was a very small wedding. It was the first time in years that I dressed as a male, and the very last time too.
After working several years at a firm, we decided to start our own business. At first, I planned to have Marcia do the contact work with our clients. But again, she gave me the confidence to deal with our clients dressed as a BBW. Marcia still helps me pick out my clothes and bras. I love the clothes and the way I look as a BBW.