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The Long Embrace of Change
Part VIII
The office of Emily Allen, MD, was empty when I arrived except for a pretty blonde receptionist behind a desk. I gave her my name, and she looked at a monitor screen in front of her, but she seemed to know who I was anyway. Perhaps mine was the only appointment that day?
“Ah, yes,” said the receptionist. She wore green scrubs and a name badge that said, “Leila Baxter, RN.” “You have a noon appointment. Come with me.”
First, she handed me a plastic jar and pointed toward the rest room. I didn’t have to piss very much, but I was able to provide a sample anyway. She then took me back into an examination room, where she asked me to strip down to my underwear. After taking my weight, blood pressure, pulse and temperature, she had me sit on the paper-covered exam table. A plastic tourniquet was tied around my left bicep, and she inserted a needle into a vein to draw some blood. After taking the blood sample, she left.
I only had to wait a moment or two. Dr. Allen was a tall woman with graying chestnut hair that she’d put back in a bun. Her approach at first seemed very businesslike and detatched, but her face projected warmth and trust. Her dark eyes looked over the clipboard with the vital stats recorded by Nurse Baxter, then she looked up at me. “I’m having the nurse run some tests on the blood and urine samples you gave us. Routine stuff.” The first things Dr. Allen did were indeed routine – she listened to my back with a stethoscope and looked into my eyes, ears, and throat.”
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
I wanted to tell her about my recent concerns about my chest. Dr. Allen seemed to be someone I could really confide in. Still, I was reluctant. “OK, I guess. Tired. A lot’s been happening in my life.”
“I understand you’ve recently left school and accepted a new job?”
Kim must have filled her in before I arrived. I nodded.
Her hands felt around the lymph nodes of my neck and then around my chest and abdomen.
I must have flinched when her hands probed around my pectoral region – I wasn’t ready to admit I had breasts. She looked up and asked, “Did I hurt you?” I shook my head. “Did I pull on one of your piercings?” Again, I shook my head. “Hmmm. Something you want to tell me?”
“Well…..” I took a deep breath, trying to collect my words. “I don’t know if something’s wrong or not. Over the past few weeks, my chest seems to have….well…expanded. Just a little. It’s not really uncomfortable or anything, just….I don’t know….I’ve been working out and dieting, and taking vitamins, so maybe it’s just that….”
Dr. Allen looked more closely at my chest. Her hands then moved around the margins of my breasts, giving each a soft squeeze. I exhaled when she did that – it actually felt good!
“I can’t feel any abnormal tissue in here. The vitamins and diet could be doing this. Are you comfortable with it?”
I thought that was an odd question. “Uh….to be honest, yes. No pain or anything, though if I’ve been standing for a long time my chest tends to be a little sore. A little increased sensitivity, too – I’d figured that was from having my chest rub against my shirts.”
“Could be,” she said. She seemed to think for a moment. “As long as there’s no real discomfort, there’s no reason to do anything – though if you want your figure improved down the road, we could always do that.” That surprised me; usually, when people spoke of “improving” the figure of their chest, it was in the context of a woman having her breasts enlarged, not reduced. “But the soreness you’re feeling from standing can be taken care of fairly easily. It’s a matter of reducing the amount of weight being supported by your chest. Have you considered wearing a bra?”
My eyes popped wide open at that. “Wear a bra? I……” I was speechless. I don’t know what shocked me more – the suggestion, or the ease with which she made it, as though it was a perfectly normal thing for a guy to do.
“We’re not talking about anything major here. Just a small bra – an A-cup. As long as you’re wearing normal clothes, no one would know. Believe me, it would help.”
I was still unable to speak.
“Look – it’s nothing to be embarrassed about! This happens to lots of men your age. Wearing a bra under your clothes doesn’t mean you’re a homosexual or a pervert. It’s just a practical solution to a minor issue. Just give it a try.”
She continued her exam. “Take of your underwear, please.” I hesitated – I’d been seen by female doctors before, but never down there. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Chris. Please pull them down.”
Once my underpants were off, she had me scoot back on the table and to put my feet into hoops at the front on either side. Once in, she strapped my feet in and pulled each leg up and out. This left my genitals and ass completely exposed.
“Relax,” she said. “This is a necessary part of the exam. It won’t hurt.”
She felt around my genitals and tugged on my penis once or twice. “You keep this clean, don’t you?” she asked, flicking my PA ring with her finger once or twice. I nodded. “Good thing you’re already circumcised with that.” My cock began to get aroused.
“I’m sorry, doctor,” I said, embarrassed at my lack of control, “it’s just that you….”
“I know,” she said. “Again, nothing I haven’t seen lots of times before. Just relax.”
Dr. Allen walked over to a set of drawers against the wall. I could hear various implements being moved around. When she turned back, she held two objects – a pair of calipers and a hypodermic needle. She swabbed my right shoulder and, before I could say anything, injected me.
“What was that!?” I rose up a little on the table, which was awkward because my legs were strapped into the stirrups. No one had said anything about injections!
As I struggled to rear up on my elbows, Dr. Allen pulled a chain from under her lab coat. On it was a thin brass tube. Something about the tube seemed familiar, but I couldn’t actually recall having seen one before.
She put the tube to her lips and blew into it once. I don’t know what happened; I didn’t hear anything, but I suddenly felt much calmer and relaxed my arms. “Just a booster.” I figured it must have been a vaccine booster for measles or something; last time I’d been given the normal vaccinations was early grade school. I immediately began to calm down. (In hindsight, I wonder if something in the shot helped relax me.)
With the calipers, she measured each of my testicles.
She pulled a pair of rubber gloves on her hands. I couldn’t really see what she was doing, but I felt her hand smearing something cool and slippery along the crack of my ass. One of her fingers slipped in my anus, causing me to gasp in surprise.
I’d never had anything up my butt before. I’d never had a prostate exam or anything. So I was astonished to find that the experience wasn’t very unpleasant at all.
Her finger probed my ass for a couple of minutes. She must have found my prostate, because my cock started getting very hard. “I’m sorry…..embarrassing…”
“It would only be a problem if that didn’t happen,” she said, nodding to my erection. Once my cock stopped growing, she measured it with the calipers.
To my shock, I was actually disappointed when her finger was withdrawn. She wiped my butt with some tissue.
Once again, she put her lips around one end of the brass tube. Things got a little fuzzy after that; next thing I knew, I was standing up and buttoning up my shirt. For some reason, I wasn’t concerned about my lack of memory over the past couple of minutes.
The nurse came in with a sheet of paper, which Dr. Allen read. “OK,” she said, looking up at me, “your urine and blood both came back clear. You’re physically fine. Keep up with the exercize and diet – it’s keeping you very healthy – and you’ll need to come in for another booster next month. And don’t forget what I told you. Your choice, but I really think it would help.”
I walked back to my apartment and sat on my bed. Wear a bra? Me?
My feelings were muddled. On the one hand, I was a guy, and guys just didn’t wear bras. What would people think? But on the other, the doctor seemed positive it would help, and the soreness I sometimes felt at the end of a long day really was a drag. And it’s not like I’d be walking around in public just wearing a bra.
As I thought this over, my earlier urge to put on a pair of panties came back to me. There was something erotic about the idea of wearing womens’ underclothes, and that now included a bra. Even if I hadn’t been dealing with an expanding chest, I felt like the desire would have eventually come to me on its own anyway.
So I’d decided to give it a go when I realized another obstacle – the act of actually buying a bra. That’s something guys definitely did not do. We might buy sexy lingerie for our girlfriends, but not everyday bras. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I’d have to ask the salespeople for something that would fit me. And I might as well be wearing the bra in public – people would see and draw the conclusion that I wore womens’ clothing.
Then it occurred to me. Tina.
Whoever Tina was, the clothes in the closet suggested someone of roughly the same height and weight. And, Kim had told me, she would be gone for a long time. I could get them washed, and she’d never know.
I opened the drawer and pulled out a bra. Sure enough, it was an A cup – precisely what the doctor had recommended. I looked at the bra for a few minutes, playing with the back strap to make sure I knew how it fastened. I took a deep breath, pulled off my shirt, and put the bra on.
Getting the back of the bra to hook up was tricky, but I managed to get it done. I went to the bathroom, where there was a full-length mirror against one wall, and took a look.
I had to admit, it looked good. I’m not sure why – it just did. But something was missing.
“Ah, what the heck,” I said. I removed my jeans and underwear, walked back to the drawer, and pulled out a pair of black satin panties. They slipped over my legs and settled around my crotch like a glove.
Looking at myself in the mirror, the image was stunning. I undid my ponytail and let my hair drape my shoulders. I was a man, but I wasn’t – my earrings, my hair, my smooth skin, and now Tina’s clothes, all together, gave the impression of an attractive, seductive person. It’s hard to describe – not quite male, but also not quite female. Change the clothes and put the hair back, and I would be a man. Add some makeup, maybe do my nails, and I’d be a woman.
I became aroused looking at my image. The bra and panties felt so good against my skin, and could already tell that the support the bra gave to my breasts – for some reason, I now felt better about calling them breasts – would make me more comfortable. My hand slipped beneath the panties waistband and felt around at my growing cock, stroked my scrotum.
Before I knew it, I was masturbating with real enthusiasm. I exploded, jetting spurts of semen all over my hand and the panties.
Once I was finished, I sat down on the toilet, caught my breath, and enjoyed the feeling for a moment. But then, I realized I’d just soiled Tina’s panties with my fluids. I pulled the panties off as fast as I could and ran water over them in the sink, hoping to wash it all off. Once I thought the stain was gone, I wrung them out and draped them over the towel bar.
”I’ll have to wash those,” I thought, looking at them hanging limp.
I didn’t know what was happening to me. Only a day after first feeling the compulsion to wear womens’ clothes, I found myself actually putting some on, and found myself getting excited over the fact. I had no idea what this meant. But before I knew what I was doing, I saw that my jeans were being pulled over yet another pair of panties – white ones – that I’d pulled out of the drawer without even thinking about it. I shrugged, put on a shirt, and sat down. The panties and bra actually felt normal, as if I was supposed to be wearing them. I had a few days before the job started, so I turned on the TV and gave it my full attention.
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