Gynecomastia is the development of enlarged breasts in males.
Gynecomastia is a naturally occurring condition. Despite what many people say or think, I believe that if it happens through genetics or diet or any other natural process, then it is natural. If it is natural, then it falls into the wide range of what is human. Not typical, not average, but certainly not abnormal or a deformity.
I first started to develop breasts from the age of 10 or 11 as part of having Klienfelter's Syndrome. I did not have a problem with that, as only having sisters, I just thought it was normal. I strongly suspect my mother realized it, but did not comment about it.
I grew up in what I thought was a large town, but now realise was not really that big. I had 3 older sisters, an older brother and was the youngest of five. I was brought up by my single mother. Our father had basically been kicked out when I was just two, due to his drinking and violent nature. When ever my relatives described him, they usually used terms like "That good for nothing...", "That useless bastard...." and so on. My older brother went to live with my father, so I never really knew him.
I grew up in quite a feminine world, as my mother was well involved in the so called women's liberation movement. Even before I developed breasts I was raised in some part as a girl. I often wore hand me down girls cloths such as shorts or T-shirts. In winter I wore stockings instead of long johns. I also wore a nighty instead of pajamas. I was given dolls and girls toys, as part of my mother's idea that there was no such things as boys behavior and girls behavior I also always had long hair. I don't remember ever having short hair. On occasions when I asked why my sisters wore dresses and skirts I was allowed to wear them around the house too. I also joined my sisters in entering the netball team, the only boy to have done so.
I was not at all keen to be a boy. I really disliked the pressure to 'act like a man' and hide my feelings. I didn't like the idea of missing out on the way girls were treated nicely, with politeness and care. I also like the way girls were given pretty cloths to wear, and nice things like ribbons and hair clips. I remember sitting in a class once paying attention to girls talking. One said that she was going to get some hair ribbons for her friends. When a girl pointed to me and asked if she was going to get some for me she said "Boys don't wear hair ribbons." I felt sad to have been left out.
The first time I began to realise my breast development was not the typical norm was when I was invited over to a pool party for the netball team I played in. I had just turned 11. I was the only boy in the team so I was asked to change in a separate room. I came out to the spa wearing shorts and T-shirt and hopped into the water. I remember several girls looking at me and one of them said. "My brother doesn't have those." In short order several girls came over to me and removed my T-shirt to take a closer look. It wasn't long to a couple of girls had their chests bared as we compared with each other.
Which was when our 21 year old netball coach came out and saw us and thought immediately that I had coerced the girls into exposing themselves. Luckily some of the older girls explained the situation, and they were far more curious than them.
Nothing was done about it because of three reasons;
The offshoot of that incident was that I was essentially accepted more into my netball team. A month after the pool incident I was invited over to pajama party where most of the netball team was in attendance. One of the oldest girls who was 16 at the time decided to give the rest of the girls an impromptu explanation of the male anatomy. With not much protest from me she undressed me and pointed out the male reproductive organs. It was at that point that I realized that I had breasts that were as big as most of the 13 year old girls.
Again our netball coach interrupted the proceedings and my mother was called. I got a bit of a grilling down and was questioned but not too harsh when the other girls explained that it was not my idea. I gather some of the mothers had a discussion over the event. It was decided that seeing how all of the girls were just curious, and seeing how they had all seen me naked, and I had seen several of them naked, it would not be a big problem if I changed in the same change room as them anyway.
You may be thinking that would be a big bonus, but at that stage I was not overly attracted to girls yet. Neither were many of them attracted to me. I was just one of the team.
I was also given a girls bathing suit to wear at the occasional pool party and instead of wearing shorts at the netball games I was given a skirt. I wonder if this was influenced by the fact that the netball coach, a former player, ran the local dress shop with her mother. Having already worn a skirt a few times, I was quite pleased with that. Mind you, at school I was teased a bit by the boys for hanging out with the girls all the time. But I had been on the team since I was 9 so it wasn't a big problem.
So for a while I lived a kind of double life. I went to school as a boy, but played netball and attended practice almost as a girl. All the members of the team knew I was a boy, but they treated me as a girl. There was no great surprise when I only made friends with girls in the team and made no boy friends at all. It was also not unusual for me to be invited over to girls places after netball practice where I still wore my netball skirt as part of my uniform. I remember several times attending dinner still in my skirt. It also was not unusual for me to talk about girls things with other girls in the team. It wasn't even unusual for me to on occasion try on other girls skirts or dresses in the privacy of their rooms. I had no problem with it. I didn't like the idea of having to be a boy and be tough and having to get in fights and do work all my life. I like the polite and kind life of girls much better.
By the time I was close to 12 it was apparent that my breasts were not going to go away. My mother did not talk about them at all, but my sisters did. They were of the conclusion that I was going to turn into a girl or something. Which really did not bother me, and was in fact something I secretly hoped for. Two weeks before my 12th birthday out little netball team won enough games to go off and play another school in some other town. There was some concern about me of course. But as I was a good player they could not just leave me behind. So at first they tried binding my breasts down with bandages. It was pretty uncomfortable and it was pretty obvious through my uniform even when I wore a second T-shirt Besides which, I had not worn my shorts to a game in almost ten months and they no longer fitted. So it was decided to send me off as a girl.
I have read a few fictional stories on the Internet of forced femanizing of boys, where they are forced to dress as a girl against their will. The stories always strike me as being somewhat violent and detached from reality. I was quite happy to wear my skirt to basketball games. My mother knew I was happy to do so, and so did all of the other mothers of the netball team. There were a few fathers who turned up at the occasional game, some of whom knew I was a boy, but most didn't. When the idea came of sending me off to play in another town it was first considered that I would go and be a boy when it came to every day living and dress as a girl (as I had already been doing) during the game. But then there were things like after game social activities and all.
One of the girls pointed out that I was also the only person my age on the team not wearing at least a training bra. The team coach consulted my mother on this over the phone. In short order we went over to the towns rather low quality little mall and the small clothing department store. With the whole team tagging along we headed for the bras. I was quite happy to look at the bras and admire their styles. Fit never entered my Mind until after our coach started to turn down some of my suggestions. I was going for prettiness. She was going for fit.
Now, you might think I'd be worried about all this. But to me, it was perfectly normal. No one had gone to too much trouble explaining to me the lives of ordinary boys. I had grown up with 3 sisters and up to 14 other girls in the netball team in a small close knit community. Not all of the town knew about me but I suppose most of the women did. They did not express a problem with it, so I with nothing transmitted over to me, I was aware I was not a typical boy, but did not have a problem with that. So I was quite happy to be given a bra to wear. I picked out several which I tried on under the experienced eye of my netball coach (and was peeped at by several of the girls through the change room curtain). I was given a nice pink silky smooth bra and another plain white one that just did not appeal to me.
You may think my life revolved around pajama parties, but in reality, they usually occurred on team member's birthday parties. The next one was the party of the oldest team member, who was going to move on up to the senior team. I was invited along with the rest of the team. Invariably in a moment of adult lack of supervision several girls asked to see my bra so I showed them. It was not a sexual or dare thing, just curiosity. But several of the girls felt at the fabric, and hence also rubbed their hands over my breasts. A stunning revelation for me! The oldest girl of the team who was 16 came into the room and saw what was happening but just giggled and rescued me from the rest of the girls. She told me that sooner or later I'd be asking girls to do that.
A week later, and a week before me 12th birthday our netball team went off to play in another town. I worse a dress all the time and quite enjoyed it. It was quite strange for some of the mothers who were acting as chaperones to call me by my name even though I was wearing a dress. They never adopted a girls name for me the first game so I just played and they just called for passes. As our team won our first game and I had participated towards the win, I attracted a bit of attention at the after game meet. I was introduced as Melissa.
There was some members of the opposite team who quite obviously thought I was a boy, I looked a lot like a girl with long hair and all, but I sounded like a boy. Someone obviously complained of unfair play. But my coach was ready for that. I was called into a room and asked to bare my breasts for some strange lady. Obviously shy I did expose my partially see through bra but that was it. The other coach was satisfied I was a girl and that was the end of that.
That night, I was doubled up in a room with our senior player who was supposed to keep a guard over me. Instead she ended up undressing me and herself and we played a little game of I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Once again this was a curiosity thing, at least at first. But we soon realized how much fun it was touching each other, and ended up going to sleep right next to each other with our cloths off. We didn't have sex, but it was a very fulfilling experience anyway.
It seemed that I was often questioning my own gender. I was not sure what I was. I generally accepted that I was not quite a boy and really wanted to be a girl. This wasn't helped by the so called 'sex-ed' given by our netball coach. Our town was so backward that there was simply no sexed in school. It wasn't a talked about things. Well as far as the teachers were concerned it wasn't. But invariably week kids talked about it. There was some confusion over me among the girls who knew my secret.
The day after we arrived back home we went around to the coach's house for a small celebration or making the state finals. It was sitting in the spa pool that the topic turned to growing up and breast development and so on. At first we talked about periods which scared me because I hate the sight of blood. It was pointed out that it was unlikely I would have periods. But I could tell by the uncertainty of my coach's voice that she wasn't sure about that.
Next we talked about breasts and how they developed and so on. It was a bit of a surprise when the coach removed the top of her bathing suit and bared her breasts. The conversation continued on, turning to the topic of menstruation and then invariably what boys were like. I was asked to stand up and be the anatomical model with slightly embarrassing results. But it was an interesting presentation because there were several 'but he's different from normal boys" added in. I got a bit poked at and prodded at before I was able to sit down again. The coach suggested that seeing how seeing as how we had all seen her, and all seen me, we could take off our bathing suits. This was mainly so we could all compare each other's breasts I suppose. The water was bubbling away, so for most girls it came up to just below their breasts.
So we had a good chat and compared each other with many giggles. No real extra attention was made to me. I was really very pleased to have been part of this all. It was like I was accepted as a girl. None of the girls seemed at all worried that I was looking at them and comparing them with mine. We compared size and shape. I was a bit bigger than average, and my breasts were conical shape.
I later learned that the discussion had been sort of parent sanctioned and that my mother had volunteered me as the anatomical male model. Not that she had asked me. Sex education hadn't come to primary school in my town yet. It was not a great surprise that so many girls got pregnant at about age 16.
That Christmas I received 6 bras and a nightgown from various people as gifts, including some from team members. One well meaning mother new to town, not realising I was a boy, gave me a great book about girls growing up. It was fascinating reading, both for me and my sisters. It did have a section on boys as well, but the only mention of boys and their breasts was that some boys did develop some breast growth which soon went way. I remember thinking that the author of the book was wrong. I also remember thinking that maybe I was the only boy in the world in my situation.
As you can tell I was generally being accepted as a girl at this young age. I played exclusively with girls and hated boys. I joined the school yard games with girls, playing with dolls and so on. I didn't have the slightest interest in cricket or football that boys had. I was far more interested in study and housework than the latest sports scores. I wasn't even that interested in netball. It was more of group thing to allow me to be with my friends.
I was also the topic of much debate about what to do with my high school education. Our town had 2 high schools. A co-ed one, and a girls only semi-religious school that had once been a prestigious school but was now taking any girl it could get. There was an all boys school in the next town over where many boys from our town were bussed to every day. There was a lot of talk about me having to just stick it out in the coed school, but it was felt I would face a lot of harassment and bullying. So that was ruled out. There was some talk of home schooling, and that was considered a real option. A lot like Robin Williams in that movie where he plays a guy who grows up too fast. There was also a lot of talk about putting me into the girls school but that was considered too ridiculous considering that I sounded like a boy.
No one asked me until a week before the end of the holidays.
My mother finally asked me what I wanted, and I was quite firm. I did not want to stay at home all day. I wanted to go to school with my friends. I never had a boy as a friend, only girls. All of the other girls in the team who were old enough to go to high school went to the girls school. So I wanted to go to the girls school. Apart from anything else, I liked the uniform. I have always liked dresses and was just dying to be able to wear real tights.
I understand I caused a lot of concern.
There was inevitable problems with the school's staff. Where would I go to the toilet? What about if I needed to change. Many of the mothers of other girls on the netball team apparently came to my defence. They explained how I used the same toilets and change rooms as their girls and there had never been any problems or goings on (that they knew of). I was trooped up before the principal, who was a friend of my mother and the basketball coach. I was asked to undress to my underwear and inspected. I was then marched out again. I believe they showed some video of me playing netball in a dress, because my mother came home frantically looking for it.
It really was no big surprise that I was allowed into the school. Several mothers had threatened to pull out their girls if I was not allowed in. Also it was explained that if I went to the coed school I would face relentless bullying. There was some explaining that I had enlarged breasts, and was on the girls netball team and that my three sisters already attended the girls school.
But there were strict rules. I was to use the name Melissa, I was to wear the school uniform, I was confined to using one toilet area only and would change separately from the girls during PE. I was to refrain from talking when visitors attended the school and I must wear make up.
I was not at all happy about wearing make up. I never took to it. Despite being brought up much as a girl, I was still male in many aspects, and make up has never appealed to me. But, my mother got around that by buying me flavored lipstick. What a clever invention. I only had to lick my lips to get a quick burst of strawberry flavor. I was told that if I did not use the rest of the make up I would miss out on the lipstick. So my sisters taught me how to use lip stick. They also taught me a few subtle tricks of being a girl, like folding my skirt under me when I sat down.
I settled into school fine. Several girls I knew were in my classes. Many of them knew I was not a girl, but most of the school didn't. The PE rule was changed after some girls asked why I had to change in a separate room. The story that I had a scar on my leg did not wash, because when playing netball I jumped to the net and just about the whole playground had seen all of my legs. Not that anyone was paying particular attention. So the rule was changed, I was to wear a pair of underpants under my leotard when going to PE. I was allowed to take off my leotard after PE to change back into uniform, but the underpants stayed on. PE classes were rescheduled for the end of the day. The other girls were not forbidden to take showers, but there was always little time left, so most just changed, went to afternoon assembly and went home. The school soon discovered that this saved them a lot on water and heating bills so all PE classes were moved to the last periods of the day.
The toilet rule changed too. It soon proved too impractical for me to have to use one toilet anyway. Since there was cubicles it was decided I could use any toilets but I was warned of dire consequences if I ever was caught peeping. The uniform and visitor rule remained. I was sent off for informal voice coaching by the drama teacher, and our netball coach passed on a subtle hint to wax or shave my arms and legs. Our whole team got a lesson on that. I did not have to worry about shaving my face though.
First semester went well. I was noted as being a slightly slow learner, but picked up computing faster than anyone else in school, even the senior students. We had an Apple 2E computer and some IBM machine in the office. I picked up how to use the Zardax word processor (which was a bit old then) and the spreadsheet. I was soon helping the staff do lesson preparations and did some book keeping.
I think that since I had settled in so well my mother, the school principle and my netball coach had a discussion on my possible future. I was asked by each of them if I wanted to grow up as girl or a boy. I was quite adamant, I wanted to be a girl and there was nothing they could do to make me be a boy. I wanted to grow up and be a woman and get married and have babies. I didn't know at the time that wasn't possible. I believe that at the time there was talk of giving me gender reassignment surgery, but my mother was not rich, and such surgery would have costs thousands. A 'wait and see approach' was adopted. Although I do recall that for a periods of about eight months I was put on a regime of taking a tablet once a day. This wasn't female hormones, and I was later told this was the pill. Yes, the contraceptive pill. It was thought this might help give me amore feminine look. It did to some extent, giving me a boost in breast growth and much fairer skin.
To me this was the most enjoyable time of my life. I was able to live fully as a girl. I was accepted by everyone as a girl. Many people didn't even know I was a boy. At home I threw out all of my boys cloths and wore dresses or skirts. I finally was rid of my uncomfortable boys underpants.
I remember going shopping the first time for my own girls cloths. I went to a department store (the only one in town) that had a special on. I had seen bathing suits on special. I brought a lovely Lycra bathing suit with a rainbow pattern on black. I loved it. I was nervous at first to buy it but it was okay after I had brought it. I wore it all the time, under my dresses or blouses. My mother was a little concerned at this at first. But I was adamant and stuck to my ground. Now that I was wearing a dress or skirt to school (depending on the season) I was adamant that there was no way I was going to wear uncomfortable boys cloths ever again. One evening I went off and dumped all of my boys cloths in a clothing bin. My mother got a bit annoyed with me wasting cloths, and threatened to not buy me any new clothing. My sisters stuck by me and offered to give me some of their cloths.
That was the last time in many years I ever wore boys clothing and the last time I ever wore mens underwear.
Shaving my legs was fine for a while, but that green ogre of a teenage girl's life, peer pressure hit me. Waxing. I remember the first time I waxed my legs. Ouch that hurt! But I was keen to prove that I was a better girl than any other girl I knew. I was a very feminine girl too, I think I over compensated a lot. I always wore my hair in plats, with ribbons in my hair. For two years I wore ribbons in my hair every day. I think I ended up looking a bit like Jan in the Brady Bunch. I used to brush my hair every morning and evening. Much to my annoyance my hair had a bad habit of getting messy and frizzy. I always refused to get it cut either. I have only ever had my hair cut twice in my entire life, apart from the occasional short trim I did to remove dead ends.
I also started to learn how to cook and do housework. Though I live alone now I still love housework. I like being house proud. I love washing dishes too. My mother could never understand why I like liked to wash dishes. It was mainly because the water is warm and it warms your hands up fast. This is probably why I also love having long baths. I used to sit in the bath for over an hour on Saturday and Sunday mornings having a bubble bath. My sisters did get fed up with this for a while, although we used to share baths quite often I'd always be the last one out. I'm sure I single handedly added about 5% to our gas bill every quarter.
I was still in the netball team. I still got invited to pajama parties. I never used my regular name any more, only using Melissa. I also never wore boys clothing any more, insisting on wearing a dress or skirt all the time. On occasion we had a skinny dip in the team coach's spa bath or one of the other girls. I would normally strip off with the other girls but leave my underpants on until after I was in the spa. Most of the mothers figured out there was more concern with my privacy and freedom from being ogled at than me ogling at the girls who would have skinny dipped together had I not been there anyway. I suppose they also believed that sooner or later their girls were going to get a look at boys and I was 'good for them' in that they could look without being harmed. This was more or less true. Though I was having an on and off again occasional romance (for want of a better word) with our netball coach I though of myself as a girl and though I looked at the girls, it was mostly as a fellow girl. If I did look at them for any other reason it was mainly to compare my breast growth with theirs.
I was reasonably popular as a girl. I was one of the best players on the netball team. I was also known for being able to keep secrets, so other girls used to confide in me a lot. I never used to spread things around the school like some girls did. So that made me popular too. Parents who did not realise I was a boy quite liked the fact that I was shy and quiet and had good manners. They could invite me over and know I would not cause a ruckus of noise. Invariably I enjoyed housework, and would wash up dishes without being asked. I was also a bit slow at learning some things, so studied a lot harder than most girls. I was often over at my friends places studying, something parents liked to see. So I had a largish number of friends, all girls and was well liked by their parents, even the ones who knew I was a boy.
I remember being invited to my friend Katherine's place one day for an after school snack. I remember that Katherine hated the nick name Kate, it was always Katherine or Katy, but never Kate. At first I thought her mum did not know I was a boy, she was the lady who had given me the book on girls growing up. She was from the City so she seemed a lot more sophisticated than us country hicks. Katherine's father had worked for NASA once. We stayed for several hours, studying home work together, then watching television. Surprisingly we both liked Hogan's Heroes. Katherine's mother asked if I would like to stay overnight. Katherine said I would have to ask my mother, so she rang my mother and asked. (I didn't talk much in front of adults because even with voice coaching I sounded a bit like a boy). My mother said it was okay so Katherine said it was fine.
Of course I was expected to sleep in Katherine's bed with her. I was handed a nighty by Katherine's mother and invited to use the bathroom to change. I headed to Katherine's room to go to sleep. Katherine's mother stopped me in the hall and handed me a small box. I looked at it and wondered what condoms were.
"What are these?" I asked.
"They're for if, you know, if you two do anything?"
"Do what?" I asked.
"I know you're a boy." She replied.
"It's okay, I don't want to be a boy. I want to be a girl" I replied. "We just want to sleep over."
Katherine's mother blushed and apologized. "I'm sorry Melissa. Of course. You two have fun. But if you two ever want to try anything. You can always ask me for these first."
I went to Katherine's room where she asked me what her mother wanted. I asked her what condoms were. She giggled and held her hand over her mouth. She was after all older than me. "I'll tell you some other time." She replied and refused to tell me.
Nothing untoward happened. We did cuddle up to each other, but that was for comfort and security more than anything else.
At age 12, almost age 13 one of the oldest girls I knew was getting married. I had helped her with her computer studies and we had become good friends. To my surprise, she asked me to be a bride's maid. I did not think we had been such close friends. But I was ecstatic about being a bride's maid.
My mother was a bit indecisive. She wanted me to be a bride's maid but the cost of the dress would be expensive. Luckily the bride's father worked for IBM as a regional executive and agreed to contribute towards the costs of bride's maid's dresses. So I was allowed to go. My oldest sister was the maid of honor.
There was nothing more feminine than wearing a bridal gown or a brides maid dress. There was the joy of going to the fittings, and wearing 'foundation garments' and comparing clothing with each other. My netball coach was chosen as the dress maker. She seemed more than happy to measure every aspect of me and I could tell she enjoyed those initial measuring sessions where she stood me on a table naked for hours on end as she measured and tried bits of fabric against my skin. She certainly enjoyed my discomfort. I didn't mind being naked, I didn't mind her looking at me. I just got cold and tired standing up all the time.
Over the next two weeks I attended regular dress fitting sessions, some of which was spent furthering my relationship with my netball coach. It was done for her pleasure more than mine at first. I was not experienced, and was worried and awkward. But I soon was taught how to enjoy myself and how to explore her. I suppose this was my first romance so to speak. I liked the cuddling and intimate part of it. That was very special to me. Yes I got love from my mothers and sisters and friends but this was something different. I have always been a tactile person. I like to cuddle. I love the feeling of skin against me. I love even to hug other girls. I was well known for it. I'm sure some parents wondered about that, such as Katherine's mother. But they soon released that I just needed the physical contact, and except with my netball coach it was nothing more.
The wedding was a great moment. It went well. I was part of the bridal party and had a great day. I even upstaged everyone else by having the wedding bouquet land right in my lap even though I was sitting down and not even trying to catch it.
I loved life as a girl. I loved the intimate friendships formed. Where boys seemed to form 'mateships' that were kind of stand offish, girls formed true friendships. We shared our feelings, our thoughts and our experiences. While boys rarely just introduced themselves to other boys they met on the street, girls did, and formed friendships fast.
Near the end of the first half of the year, with holidays approaching my little town changed some what. There was no dance hall in town, as public dancing was frowned upon. Yes, we were country hicks. Some teenagers went to the city to go to dances. One night four young men were returning from a dance when a police car started to chase them to pull them over. The police had a habit of pulling over cars on the city road driven by the young men simply to heavy them. The officers generally just took their names, gave them a hard time and sent them on their way. This time the boys had been drinking, the driver panicked and sped off. They came to the one lane bridge over the town river and saw a truck in the middle. With no where to go they tried to pull up by the side of the road. Instead they went straight off an embankment and into the river. All four young men, still teenagers were killed.
Lots of things in our town changed after that. There was an investigation. There was a bit of an outcry by the parents and friends of the young men involved. The police officer involved was transferred to another town fast. The local council were due for reelection. They lost by a landslide. Katherine's father was elected mayor, and her mother was in the council. Our netball coach's mother was also elected to council. A dance hall was built in town, along with a cinema. It was as though the 80s finally caught up with our town.
For me and my friends, who had known the teenagers in the crash, but not well, we were saddened by knowing our senior team player had a crush on one of them. She was devastated. We closed ranks to support her. It was a moving time for us. We had quite a few pajama parties as we helped try take her mind off of lost love. We grew closer together. In some ways she grew a bit apart from us though as she grew older and needed to consider a career after school.
And that's how I lived for the next two years. At age 16 I discovered an attraction for girls in a big way. I ended up going out with several of my team members, some of them surprisingly with the consent of their parents. But by age 18 I was sounding and looking more like a boy. I was not returned to school for my fourth year, but attended home schooling. I also was not entered into the senior netball team. Some girls, who learned a bit more about the world and how it should normally work, drifted out of friendship with me. Some became closer friends.
But then we moved to the city. And I started the end of my teenage years.