27-02-2014, 06:03 PM
I think the answer to the thread question provides a clue as how much cross gender identity one possesses, and whether engaging in NBE is likely to be something worthwhile and beneficial in the long term.
I grew up with four sisters, so breasts and bras were a common sight in our house. I remember putting a bra on as a young boy, but I don't recall actually wishing I had breasts. I had only a vague notion of what a breast was until I reached puberty.
When puberty arrived, I recall locking myself in the bathroom with the Sears & Roebuck catalog and going directly to the women's underwear pages to look at the pictures. I also liked to peruse the pages of Seventeen magazine at the city library looking at the intoxicating images of girls and how they adorned their curvy bodies. I still had no conscious wish to have breasts during my adolescent years, although a friend and I experimented with putting oranges in a bra to see how having breasts might look and feel. Not very well, we concluded.
It wasn't until after I was married, in my twenties that I discovered a book at the local bookstore about a man who grew breasts. Just the idea of that possibility sent a rush of excitement racing through my body. I was shocked by my reaction. I wanted to open the book, but was too self-conscious with other people around, so I walked away. For days, I couldn't get the book out of my mind. Finally, while again visiting the bookstore, I worked up the courage to open the book and read some of the material. It recounted the story of a man who had inadvertently come into contact with his wife's estrogen medicine, and over time, developed breasts. From that day on, I concocted fantasies about growing breasts myself. The urge to pursue it in reality was never seriously considered until last year when I experienced a relapse into crossdressing, and eventually found my way here.
Now that I have the beginnings of my own real breasts, I wake up in the morning, touch them, and know that my longstanding dream has finally come true, and I am so glad.
Clara
I grew up with four sisters, so breasts and bras were a common sight in our house. I remember putting a bra on as a young boy, but I don't recall actually wishing I had breasts. I had only a vague notion of what a breast was until I reached puberty.
When puberty arrived, I recall locking myself in the bathroom with the Sears & Roebuck catalog and going directly to the women's underwear pages to look at the pictures. I also liked to peruse the pages of Seventeen magazine at the city library looking at the intoxicating images of girls and how they adorned their curvy bodies. I still had no conscious wish to have breasts during my adolescent years, although a friend and I experimented with putting oranges in a bra to see how having breasts might look and feel. Not very well, we concluded.
It wasn't until after I was married, in my twenties that I discovered a book at the local bookstore about a man who grew breasts. Just the idea of that possibility sent a rush of excitement racing through my body. I was shocked by my reaction. I wanted to open the book, but was too self-conscious with other people around, so I walked away. For days, I couldn't get the book out of my mind. Finally, while again visiting the bookstore, I worked up the courage to open the book and read some of the material. It recounted the story of a man who had inadvertently come into contact with his wife's estrogen medicine, and over time, developed breasts. From that day on, I concocted fantasies about growing breasts myself. The urge to pursue it in reality was never seriously considered until last year when I experienced a relapse into crossdressing, and eventually found my way here.
Now that I have the beginnings of my own real breasts, I wake up in the morning, touch them, and know that my longstanding dream has finally come true, and I am so glad.
Clara
