Breast Cream

Breast Cream
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I really did not know that she would have such a bad reaction to fake face cream I whipped up for her, but she had been getting on my nerves going on about the problems on my chest. It was gynecomastia caused by late onset puberty. It is a real problem for a boy like me. Ok, so I over-reacted by trying to go out all macho, but I needed to reassert the fact that I was male.

Then her face blew up and she was furious. I can’t say I blame her for being angry. I had told her that for half the price she was paying, I could find her some high-quality stuff. I just used some cheap cold cream and added some air freshener as perfume and put it in one of my mother’s discarded fancy jars.

Mom said: “This is your fault, so you need to make good. Whatever this costs your sister you are going to have to find a way to fix it for her. She will tell you how.”

There was only one thing that worried her – what was Brad going to do. She could not let him see her all inflamed like that, but she could not let him go on the prowl. She was so insecure that she thought Brad would find another girl and that it would be over for them as a couple.

So how was I supposed to fix that problem?

“You will be a stand in for me,” she said. “You can be my cousin Caroline, escorting him around until the swelling goes down. You have your own swelling so you may as well put it to use.”

She was talking about the embarrassing little titties I had. Of course, I protested the idea of being dressed up as a girl. It was a crazy idea, But Mom said that I had to pay the cost, and she had the right to tell me how.

“Let’s see how we can get a cleavage out of those breasts of yours,” she said.

Cleavage? Gynecomastia is an awful thing for a teenage guy to have to endure. But I kept them hidden. She said that for the time I was to be Caroline, they would need to go on display. She had some special hormone cream that she had been using for months to make her tits bigger, without much success. Somehow on my chest, this stuff seemed to have immediate effect.

“You are so slim and have good shoulders and long legs,” she said. “You basically have a girl’s body.”

With the right undergarments she was right – it was more like the body of a supermodel – angular but feminine. Even in just the “shapewear” you could not see that I was male - my crotch was modified by a special panty-thing. Not that there was much to conceal given the fact that I was still pre-pubescent at fourteen.

“We can also put that long hair to good use too,” she said. “No wig necessary. I will just give you some soft curls. And a good makeup job to show off those bright blue eyes. We will go pink. Matching lipstick and fingernails.”

She took a photo of me as she turned me towards the mirror. It makes me smile to look at that snapshot now, but at the time I was mortified.

“Hi Brad, it’s me,” I heard her on her phone. “I can’t go with you tonight because of some family stuff, but I don’t want you to go alone, so would you please take my cousin Caroline with you? She is in town for a few days. You can show her around. Yeah, whatever you like. She’ll be good company, I promise. I am so upset by not being able to be with you, hun. Just look after Caroline, OK? She is a country girl so excuse her being a little awkward. But I have given her one of my special makeovers and she looks gorgeous! Ok. Missing you. Bye.”

“Why me?” I said. “Any girl would do.”

“Any girl would steal Brad. You can’t, because you are not a girl. And you’re my brother after all. What brother wouldn’t do drag if his sister asked?” She was smiling. She and Mom were making me do it. It was annoying.

“He will notice. I will be fucked,” I said.

“So you need to make sure that you behave as girly as possible,” she said. “We have time for you to practice. I will give you some pointers. The best way to stay safe is to stay feminine. Then Brad will protect you. He is that kind of guy – a gentleman. He appreciates girly girls.”

Suddenly I could barely stop myself from laughing. With her face all swollen up she hardly looked human. He certainly would not appreciate that look.

But to say anything would just make things worse. She was in a state. I could help her out. I decided that all of this was not an unreasonable thing to ask. Even before the makeup went on, I could see that I might be able to pull this off – the country cousin. I was just to keep his attention for a few days until she got back to normal, then Caroline would go back to wherever she came from, and my sister would have her boyfriend back.

But when she was done with the makeup I looked nothing like a girl off the farm. I looked like that supermodel ready for a strut along the runway. She had shaped my eyebrows without plucking and applied spectacular eye makeup and glossy lips

As far as she was concerned, the objective was to ensure that Brad only had eyes for me. I was to keep him for her. The black dress with my little tits pushed up so that they looked gigantic, would certainly help. The right shoes too, which meant learning how not to fall off a pair of heels. And all before Brad picked me up at six.

My mother opened the door. She was in on it. She called out: “Caroline. Brad is here.”

I could see his mouth fall open as I came down the stairs. That is when I got the strange tingly feeling for the first time. It was not to be the last.

I decided that I was going to keep my promise to my sister. I was going to make sure that Brad did not go astray. But it turned out that was easy. He did only have eyes for me. I mean, his eyes were always on me, that night and for all the date the next night as my sister’s face was still not fully restored to normal. As we sat in a restaurant that first night he seemed to ignore the attractive girls walking by. One very pretty girl who knew him from school actually came up and talked to him – I would call it flirting – but he barely responded. He introduced me to her. I was rubbing my leg against his and giving him little smiles – he simply politely turned her away.

I understood what I needed to do. When we were walking on the street I would take his arm or his hand as if to say to any passing women: ‘back off Girl, he’s mine’. They weren’t to know who or what I was, that he was my sister’s boyfriend and I was keeping him safe for her. I never thought about him becoming attracted to me, let alone me being … well, having those tingly feelings, any time he was close.

You can’t go out on a second date without giving him a kiss – can you? He came towards me and I knew what he wanted. It was give in and let our lips touch or have him drop me and look for a real girl, then my sister could lose him. Just a kiss, but make sure that it is the kind of kiss that carries the promise of more … much more.

Of course, I had nothing more to give. He could put his nose in my cleavage, run his hands up my shaved legs, but if he got anywhere close to you-know-where I would have to grab his hand or smack it aside.

“I’m not that kind of girl, Brad. I would never steal my cousin’s boyfriend.”

But then he would take me in his arms let his lips and tongue subdue me. It was so close the sex, the way we kissed. It was just … I don’t know – something special.

My sister’s face was almost back to normal. But Brad was saying that I was driving him crazy. I was his girlfriend now, or if not me then not back to her. I felt I needed to do something to keep him on track. I was not going to blow him, but I agreed to give him a hand-job.

He asked me just to kiss the tip. I thought: ‘Well, I have another guy’s cock in my hand, so what the hell?’. But the moment my lips touched him there, Brad’s tool erupted jizz all over me. I knew what it was, even though I had never produced any myself. He apologized but I could see that he was the happiest man alive. I was less happy. It was all through my curls.

“What is that in your hair?” my sister asked. How could I reply?

“Sis, it is your turn to take over. Tidy yourself up because that is that last time I go out with Brad. And never ask me to do anything like that again.”

I took off my makeup and washed my hair. I stood looking at myself in the bathroom mirror as I ran a comb through the wet locks. I should have been looking at me, but I only saw Caroline. Even with stringy hair and no makeup, but with my little tits looking so perfectly right on my chest, I looked like a girl, not a boy.

Brad called looking for me. He told my sister that he had done something unforgivable and was asking her to have me call him back, but she said it was over with Caroline and she was coming around to his place.

So, it was over. But instead of relief I found myself sitting on my bed and crying. I was thinking that I would never see Brad again, at least not as Caroline. I would never kiss him again. I would never stop his hand mid-thigh again. Somehow it seemed as if my life had turned into a tragedy.

It seems crazy, but I felt that stealing one of my sister’s nighties and wearing that to bed would help. Maybe it did, because despite the tears I fell asleep.

My sister woke me about an hour later. Apparently, Brad went on so much about Caroline that my sister told him everything. Yes, I was her brother, who was pretending to be her cousin – just holding the fort until she returned. Yes, I had breasts, but I also had a tiny under-developed cock, so I was definitely not a girl.

I could imagine him looking at my sister in disbelief, maybe even feeling the way I did: Love lost, like star-crossed lovers. Would he be in bed crying the way I had been? More likely he would be tasting barf in his mouth.

So it was all over for me and Brad, and it seemed that he was not interested in my sister anymore either. But it was not my fault. I did what she asked of me, even under protest.

“But I could never trust him anyway,” she said. “They call men like him ‘a hard dog to keep on the porch’ and I am not sure if I need the aggravation.”

I could not let her see me upset, so I agreed. He was not worth it. She left my room. I cupped my tits and wondered what it would have been like to have Brad hold them like that.

So I suppose it should have ended there. But it didn’t.

Brad called the following afternoon. He said: “Caroline, is that you?”

Was it? What a good question. I said: “Yes. Hello Brad. You know I go by that name sometimes”. I was talking in the voice I had developed for her, without even doing that deliberately.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Brad, I am a boy, remember?” But it was still her talking

“For the moment maybe …”.

I found myself saying: “My boobs are not really as big as they look”.

“We can watch them grow together,” he said

It is lucky that my sister has plenty of that special cream.

The End
2150
© Maryanne Peters 2025