EX TENEBRIS CRESCIT FLOS
I GOT MY BOOBS FROM A BOTTLE
August 20, 2005
Performing in a play is not something I would ordinarily do. In fact, I have
not done such a thing since I was a child, and I never imagined that I would
actually want to be in a play. However, a local lesbian group does an
informal annual production called "The Breast Dialogues" in which a number of
women compose little performance pieces and perform them on stage. The
subject matter is, of course, breasts. As a transwoman, I felt like I had an
interesting story which would fit well with the format of the play. So I
wrote a humorous little piece and stood up on stage and read it. The
audience obviously enjoyed it; I had them roaring with laughter two or three
times! Afterwards, I felt great. It is nice to actually feel like I am part
of a group, rather than always being on the outside.
I have reproduced my contribution to the play here.
"I Got My Boobs from a Bottle", as performed on August 20,
2005
The First Pill
One day, when I was 31 years old, I came home from the pharmicist with a bottle
of little brown pills made from horse pee. What would these pills do? I had
heard many stories, and yet I still wondered. Could I really get boobs from a
bottle? Only time would tell, but I seemed to detect a little something in my
chest, chanting, "Feed me! Feed me!".
Strange Sensations
Just a week or two after taking the first pills, I felt a stirring in my chest.
A part of my body that I had previously ignored announced, "I'm Here!"
Heightened sensitivity told me that the process
had begun. I continued feeding the new presence with pills in gradually
increasing doses, and my nascent breasts happily ate them up. And just so I
did not forget about them, every now and then they hit me with a dull pain.
Ouch! They did start to hurt, but I figured that was the price of womanhood.
Bumps on my Chest
Within a few weeks, little lumps of fat were protruding from my previously
flat chest. Some very simple aspects of life presented me with problems. No
longer could I just walk into a wall; my sensitive little breasts would surely
complain if I did. And I had to be careful how I slept; if I rolled over, my
breasts would loudly remind me that they were there. The soreness was hard
to get used to, but at the same time I loved the new awakening that was taking
place.
You're Showing
At work, I was still presenting as a man. One day, the other transsexual at
work said, "You're showing!" Indeed, I was. My breasts were poking out a
little through the loose, oversized shirt I was wearing. I could no longer
hide. A few weeks later, I had transitioned successfully at work and no longer
had to disguise my breasts by wearing loose shirts. And I could finally wear
a bra at work. They were still growing and still very tender, and they
complained as they bounced up and down while I walked.
Calming Down
My boobs have now decided that they are satisfied; they are no longer overly
sensitive, and they have stopped growing. But just in case I forget them,
they continue to remind me of their presence, but in a good way. Every time
I look in the mirror and see these bumps on my chest, I feel good knowing that
they are "all me". And every time I feel a stirring of sensation on my chest,
I know they are there. I just wish they weren't so hairy!
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