Gynecomastia Part 4
Read Part 2 Here.
Read Part 3 Here.
“Babe, how am I supposed to wear a bra and it not show. Do I really need to wear one to the appointment? Pretty sure she’s aware I need one, and we can tell her I have one.”
“Sweetheart, she needs to see the fit. I’m assuming a normal bra is fine. It could make things worse. Plus, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about since she’s expecting you in a bra.”
What a site this makes. Me standing here in a white lacy bra and boxers. I’ve worn T-shirts and gym shirts and have not left the house all week to avoid this moment. What shirt do I wear so I look the least like a woman in dude jeans. I go through 5 or 6 shirts. Each of them makes it seem obvious I am wearing a bra. My jeans make my underwear feel weird against my lasered pubic area too.
“I can’t wear any of these shirts. You can clearly see the bra.”
“Wear a sweater,” she replied
“I might have a sweatshirt.”
“OH good grief, here,” she replied while yanking one of her sweaters off a hanger.
“Listen, I’m not wearing a women’s sweater to hide my bra.”
“First off, it’s a grey sweater, not bright pink. It’s not some feminine cut. Just a sweater because I’m trying to help you. Second not really a place of negotiation, given you said you had no options. If you’d rather, I can get you a blouse?”
“I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me.” I replied with defeat.
“Also, what’s with all the squirming?”
“My boxers are driving me nuts, thanks to my mandatory shave down there. I thought the laser was supposed to not be irritating.”
“Yes, if you put lotion on. All options are going to irritate without lotion. We’ve covered this.”
“I’m not putting your lotion there. It’s bad enough it’s shaved. It’s not going to smell like flowers too.”
“I can’t help that the men’s aftershave for that manscaping irritated your skin. There’s still the other option until it clears up.”
“I’m not wearing panties. I’m a man. I literally couldn’t fit in them. I have too much equipment for the front to contain,” I proudly said.
My wife almost spits her drink before saying, “Okay, honey, you’re right. Your junk is sooo massive it would never fit.”
I was pissed and doubled down. “I guarantee they won’t fit!”
“Okay, hubby. I can tell you’re feeling big and masculine. I’ll drop it. Don’t want to damage your ego before the appointment,” she replied.
“What’s the supposed to mean?”
“I just know the last appointment was difficult, and I don’t want to start out on the wrong foot,” she said with kindness.
But I didn’t care. My wife was all but saying the panties would fit. I’m not just going to call it a draw. “No, there are no draws now. You name the stakes.”
“Fine, wanna do this. Simple stakes, they fit, you wear them,” my wife replied with an edge to her voice.
I could tell that ignoring her attempt at kindness had not gone over well. She grabbed the panties that matched my bra and threw them at me. I started for the bathroom, but she was having none of that.
“You can slide those on out here. Since they aren’t going to fit, this won’t take long big guy.”
I dropped my jeans and boxers and turned to the side. I don’t know why. I guess my confidence was already fading.
“Turn around. I want to see the big manly cock bulging out of those dainty little panties.”
My ego caught me again, and I turned around while stepping into the panties. This was going to be easy for once. They weren’t going to go up my legs. Two, there’s no way they have enough room for my dick. And three, my ace in the hole, there’s no way they would contain my balls.
This was it. The moment I’ve waited for. I’d tried everything, including tampering with that aftershave, to get my husband to try on panties. It’s all I’d been able to think about after taking his measurements and realizing his equipment was closer to my clit than my ex’s cock. As luck would have it, the matching panties that ‘happened to come with the bra’ even had a wide panel through the crotch. I’m not sure his balls won’t show, but it will still be worth it to see his clitty dick in panties. I know that’s harsh, but I just tried to give him an out. He let his larger than he could back up male ego make this mess.
As he pulled them up, I saw the reality on his face. He was so nervous his balls had pulled up tight, and his “massive” manhood looked practically internal. They fit. As soon as he pulled them up, he instinctively tried to cover the front to hide his shame. Before he had covered, I could make out no bulge you would associate with a man’s penis. More like a pronounced or recently active clit. And his balls did little more than create the illusion of a labia. I couldn’t help myself.
“Move those hands. I want to see that big cock poking out and those balls hanging out the sides.” I teased
He replied, “It’s the panties. They’re pressing things down, so they fit better than they should.”
“Sweetie, they’re not compression shorts. Panties tend to give, not compress.”
“Okay, fine, I lost. Now can I get dressed and us just go.”
He had his new undies to mid-thigh before I could catch him.
“Not so fast. Pull those up, ma’am. You made a bet, I won, and I intend you to pay up.”
I didn’t mean to say, ma’am. Guess it just slipped, given the circumstances. My husband began to pout with the panties still mid-thigh.
“OH, come on. You can’t be serious. I can’t wear these to the appointment. That’s not fair.”
“No, not fair. Is my husband making less of a bulge in panties than I do? I’d planned to have some kinky fun before we left, but since you’re throwing a little girly hissy fit, I guess we won’t. Get dressed before we’re late.”
The bet had been a total disaster, and now I found myself going to my wife’s OB for an appointment about my man-boobs wearing a matching bra and panty set. Worse yet, all I could think about was my wife’s comment about her making more of a bulge in her panties than me. And worst of all, I was turned on by it. Thankfully no one noticed when we checked in or returned to our room.
The nurse came in to take vitals. Hoping to avoid anyone seeing my underwear, I asked about changing into a hospital gown.
“Do I need to put on one of those paper gowns?”
“No, I’m just taking vitals. May not need to at all, but no need to yet,” the nurse replied
“You anxious to get naked, honey?” my wife asked.
I turned beat red. The doctor came in with paperwork in hand. “Alright, before we get into bloodwork results, let’s check you for other secondary physical signs. First, let’s take the shirt off.”
I removed my shirt begrudgingly, wanting to crawl into a hole and die.
“I see you found a nice bra, I mean support garment. It appears to be the right size. Any discomfort?”
“No,” I said.
My wife said, ” I wanted to check that was the best bra to use. We tried a sports bra, but it didn’t work, and I just wanted to be sure. I know he won’t ask, but I want to ensure our bra choice doesn’t cause more trouble.”
“It looks fine. I’d encourage something with more lift since he’s receptive to doing what’s best,” the doctor said.
“Perfect, I’ll make that adjustment if we need more,” the wife said.
The doctor continued before I could argue the need for more. “Since we’re on the subject, the test results turned out like I thought. Your body is creating female hormones because it thinks your levels are low. That’s what’s caused the secondary effect of breast growth. First, we will need to address the hormones before we can assess the next steps on the breasts.”
“I don’t understand,” was all I could reply despite my mind racing with questions.
My wife didn’t miss the chance to provide clarity. “Honey, your body thinks it’s a woman. Correct me if I’m wrong here. It thinks it’s a pubescent girl.”
The doctor said, “I was trying to soften the blow, but that is a solid and accurate observation.”
I said, “So I just take some hormone blockers and testosterone to shut that shit down, right?”
“I know that sounds right, but we must be careful. We could shock your body, and I don’t know what your levels would do,” the doctor said. “So we will actually need to trick your body into thinking you have enough estrogen so it slows down its own production. This probably wouldn’t be necessary, but you waited too long to come forward. We have to be careful now.
“We will start you on low-dose estrogen to convince your body you have enough. Then as we taper off, we will likely need to increase testosterone. The only other area I want to confirm is open from our last appointment. You can wear your shirt back and remove your pants so I can inspect the genital area for other issues.”
I was so shaken up about the information I had just heard I didn’t think to ask for privacy to hide my panties. The panties, not my panties. Either way, as I unzipped, they came into view.
Despite her best efforts, the doctor said, “Oh.”
What could I say? I bet my wife my dick was too big for panties and lost. Yeah, that would play well. I tried to improvise something. I said, “The laser hair removal irritated the skin, and these were softer than my boxers.”
“And cuter,” my wife piled on.
I quickly removed the underwear and jeans and got on the table. Even placed my feet in the stirrups without being asked. I just wanted this to end.
“Okay. Thank you for cleaning up down here, but there appears to be another issue. I’m sure you’re nervous, which seems to have caused your penis to retract. Your testicle also appears to have pulled up. They appear fine from my assessment. I’m taking measurements as we must keep track throughout treatment to ensure there are no other side effects.”
“My balls are going to shrink?” I asked in terror.
“It’s possible with the hormone imbalance and could indicate other issues. I also need to take penis measurements. Obviously, that won’t literally shrink, but we need to keep tabs on all measurements just in case.”
“In case of what?” I almost shrieked.
The doctor said, “I’m trying to be kind here, but I assume your current state is caused by nerves and not another issue. Your actual penis isn’t going to shrink, but just like right, your body could continue to try to protect it like it is. There’s nothing harmful about that, but it is something we need to track.”
“What are his current measurements? I’d like to keep tabs daily at home,” my wife asked very medically.
“I’m hesitant to use this as his baseline, but it’s what we got. Including foreskin 0.53 inches.”
My wife said, “OH, he’s circumcised.”
“Thank you for clarifying,” the doctor said. “I was unsure. Let’s see, an unaltered flaccid would be 0.32 inches instead. Since you are a nurse, I will let you collect and submit the rest since you’re offering. Everything looks healthy, albeit quite petite. If you ejaculate as you have today, you clean up well to avoid infection while your penis is retracted.”
I mumbled, “I haven’t cum. I mean, I uh….”
“No, you’re right. It appears closer to pre-ejaculate. Probably just from the sensation of your new underwear. Please also keep the area clean-cut like this for follow-ups. The next follow-up is in 3 months. Other than that, you’re good to go,” the lady doctor said.
One final embarrassment as I would now have to put on the panties before her. I attempted to put pants on simultaneously, only for everything to wad up. So I got to pull my pants to my ankles and panties to my thighs before trying again. As I pulled the undies up, my wife delivered the final blow.
She said, “Aren’t those a great fit for him? I’ve never seen a man that could fit in panties.”
The doctor was stuck. She had to comment in some way. “They certainly seem the right for him. Don’t look stretched out at all. It’s like he’s a girl.”
To Be Continued…?
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