“I’m going to HAVE to wear a bra! No way!”

“Stand up, Mike. And take your shirt off. ……… Well, that’s unusual.”
Some time later ……"NO, Mum. I’m never going to wear a bra. Never.”
“I’m not sure those, erm, chesty-things give you a choice!”

An AP-500 story

My recent rules are to post one or two of these shorties at a time and to post more when one gets to a thousand hits. Recently that’s been very quick. I’ve posted 20+ of these 500 stories since September; 2 have hit 2,000 hits and a couple are closing on 100 kudos. I’m keen to see of one of these will trigger ME to write a continuation – but, so far, not yet. I have some longer ones as work-in-progress but they haven’t got to a breakpoint yet.
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“But Mum, I’m sure they’re going away. They’ve got to be smaller than they were.”

“How long have you known about those, these, them?”

“Mum, I know it’s not possible but the proper word has to be ‘boobs’.”

“Excuse me boy-child. Vulgar boys may call them that, but girls and women call them breasts. Generally. How long?”

“I first noticed a couple of months ago.”

“Really. I’d guess you noticed longer ago than that.”

“Well, maybe. But I tried to ignore the whole thing. I mean, how many guys of seventeen start growing boobs. It ain’t many. I can’t guess how many sites, how many hours I’ve spent on the web. Boy-boobs are really kinda rare. And having two and sort of symmetrical – that’s just off the scales rare. And I’m not a girl. I make sure of that every day or so.”

“Yes, yes. I know about that. I have to wash your things, don’t I?”

And if she was blushing ….. it was a mere pink flicker to the beetroot colour I must have been showing.

“There’s a few things we’re going to have to do.”

“I sort of guessed you’d know what to do.”

“Know – huh. Ain’t no guidebooks to ‘my son is getting breasts’, y’know. But we can start with a bra or two.”

“Really.”

“Of course. Don’t be silly. Breasts need a bra, and spares to cover laundry and so on. And we need to talk with some professional.”

“Not Dr Sherman.”

“No, dear. She may be our family doctor, but she’s nearly 65 and I think we need someone who knows us a little less thoroughly, not a family friend. Yes?”

I wasn’t arguing – about that. But I did try to argue about the bras. “Do I really need a bra?”

“I said yes. I meant yes. More accurately, the mammary development generally attributable to female puberty beginning to protrude from your chest heretofore labelled as masculine requires the assistance of suitable clothing in aid of preventing discomfort.”

“I guess that means I have to wear a bra.”

“Duh! Just to make it a little less obvious you’re a boy. I’ll give you some of your sister’s things to wear and I’ll fluff your hair a bit girly.”

“What if I don’t want …”

Mum interrupted. “If you’re willing to go buy lingerie as a clearly not-girl, that’s your choice. I just wouldn’t recommend it. Even if we’re going not locally to Munchester .”

Soon, I was wearing Evie’s jeans, a t-shirt (with ruffled shoulders) and a necklace. And I looked ok. Not that I dared say so.

“Actually, you look ok.” Said Mum. And I was dithered enough to smile back. “Have you ever tried on any of Evie’s things before?”

“What. No. Never. Yukk. No way.”

“Oh well, then you look surprisingly good. Quite relaxed too.”

“No way. Although the clothes themselves feel nice, dressing as a girl ……. Absolutely NO.”

Mum giggled, “That’s what you say now!” Are all Mums are fortune-tellers?.

Another AP-500 story - please grow it some more. AP