Feb 2005
You know when you've been tango'd!
from Steve/Katie from near Maidenhead
Following you call for experiences with Croptops, I feel almost desperate to tell you (and anyone else) what I have been up to, as a way of getting things 'off my chest'.
I have been tv'ing from time to time for many years, but by not having quite the 'right' face, no matter how experimented with wigs and make-up, etc, there was no way I could ever get away with getting away as looking like a real women in public and enjoying that experience. Being almost 6 feet tall didn't help either. This restricted me to dressing at home and occasionally going out at night, but not with the view of really been seen by anyone,not by choice, anyway. When I have been 'spotted' at times while seen by others over the years, I would get the normal laugher if there was more than one person in my vicinity, or the occasional unflattering comments.
A few years ago, I saw a program on television. Two mid-teenage girls were talking about their lives, how they lived them and what they wanted from life. They also discussed there breasts - describing them as 'their weapons', and how they could use them in many situations for their advantage. This had an impression on me at the time, but little did I know at the time how I would be thinking and feeling just the same as them in the future.
I ordered a croptop from Proactive Prosthetics and duly received my top in Autumn 2004. After seeing the photos on their site, I had a good idea of what to expect, but when I saw them for the first time in the flesh, I was more that amazed. Their realism was almost unbelievable. Needless to say, I couldn't stop myself from trying on my new croptop, and after trying it with some newly purchased bras, I found one bra in particular that gave them best possible shape (this particular shape was possibly imprinted in my mind from years of studying womens' breasts, but only from a research point of view - you understand). I them bought some low-cut tops from various high street chain stores which I decided would do justice to my new breasts.
Looking down at these new mounds of flesh on my front, or viewing them in the mirror with my new favourite top on was almost like a surreal experience. After many years of dreaming about having real breasts, and having to make do with 'chicken fillets' with no visible cleavage whatsoever, this was really a special moment for me, and still is.
I suffer from a huge imagination (maybe most tv's do), and reading your piece about showing off these croptops while not being dressed set my mind into scheming mode (it doesn't take much).
I have always been rather keen on what I think of as a 'sport car' look which many young girls/women seem to favour these days - tight top with cleavage on display, hip-hugging long-legged jeans, with pointed toe high heeled stiletto boots... the sleek and sharp look.
Temptation got the better of me, as I decided that I needed to test my new breasts out in public. Having opted for generous D cups, this was going to be an 'interesting' experience. I wore a black zip-up sweatshirt over my low-cut top and found that if I put my hands in my sweatshirt pockets, and moved them forwards, I could get a straight line downwards from my 'chest area' to my sweatshirt pockets area - which disguised my new pair of 'growths'.
Walking around the town centre in men's jeans and trainers, and watching other passer-byers very carefully, it soon became apparent that 99% did not notice or suspect a thing. I was, however walking very carefully so as to try and not have my front bounce up and down much. Several tests later, I let the shape of my boobs show through my sweatshirt a bit more by not pushing the bottom of my top forwards via my pockets. Still nobody seem to notice a thing, or almost none, unless they saw my side on view and were particularly observant.
The feeling of being able to get away with my new cleavage (if disguised a little) while in public drove me relentlessly and single-mindedly onto the next stage, I just couldn't help myself. I fitted some homemade hips and bum pads under my boot-cut female jeans to give a fairly accurate outline shape of my bottom half. This, together with my white low-cut top was a shape I had trouble getting my head around while viewing my 'new look' look in a full-length mirror. I was now getting very close to the image I most envied for years. I hadn't been able to achieve this full body look with such dramatic effect because of the lack of this 'more than amazing' cleavage.
The time had come to test this full-body image out (this included French fingernails).. Heading off to some large shopping centres, I again watching how people reacted to me, firstly by angling my sweatshirt downwards and forwards to hide the bulge of my breasts, and then letting it settle against them. Again almost nobody spotted anything unusual. This showed me that people look but they don't really see - they are so busy rapped up in their lives and own thoughts.
The curve from my waist to my hips was disguised slightly by my sweatshirt being slightly loose and longish. I went on 'testing' this 'outfit' on several more visits to a wide range of shops, etc, with almost no reaction.
With my ever growing confidence, and my desperate need to show someone my boobs, I started choosing who would get a quick look at what breast perfection was all about (time to 'set' my 'weapons' on 'stun'). Although I came across many ideal situations, it took many outings before I had enough courage to actually go through with this. I then decided that I was wasting time, as I had the perfect breasts, so there was nothing to worry about. Everywhere I looked, in magazines, newspapers, nightclubs, in towns, etc, women who had hot breasts were flaunting them in my face - time for me to do the same. If you can't beat them - join them!
I went into a haircare trade shop, walked up and down the isles and selected a few items. I saw a young girl of about 6, with her mother, walked to the side of them, had a quick look and adjustment of my boobs and top to make sure that everything was even, and moved slowly towards them (with my heartbeat at full speed). The little girl looked up at me then noticed my cleavage, but her mother was engrossed with shopping. I walked to the next isle and what happened next still makes me smile. The conversation went as follows…
Mum…Mum…that man had breasts!
Darling, please don't be silly.
No…Mum, he really had them!
Ok darling, if you say so.
Mum…what don't you believe me?
Darling, Mummy is busy shopping.
I was absolutely fascinated by this (and pretty pleased), and wondered what to do next. I decided to help the young girl out (only fair). By their voices I cold hear them moving down their isle, so I decided to go down mine and meet them as they came around the corner. The reaction was exactly what I wanted - she looked at me, then down to my breasts, then down to the floor so as not to appear staring.
I walked to the next isle and hear the young girl say… You see Mum, I told you! The mother didn't say anything. No doubt she had just gone into a state of shock, or as I now refer to it… She had been tango'd! I drove away with a huge smile on my face as I tried to get my heart to slow down. Everybody remembers their first time, and this was mine!
The first encounter gave me a great boost, and great satisfaction, and spurred me on even more to this amazing pleasure with almost unlimited possibilities.
Next, I went into a pet shop, choosing my moment to go up the till girl when nobody was around, (and with my heart pounding) again with my top unzipped so she could get a nice view. This poor girl was so overcome by what she saw, that it must have taken her about 2 minutes to remember the code to reactivate the till. I just stood there and watched her with much satisfaction, seeing her total embarrassment of the whole situation.
The next 'victim' on a later 'outing' was a girl in a card shop. I selected my purchase, eventually got the nerve to go up to the till, and waited until she turned around. She looked at me, then her eyes went down to my cleavage, then down to the till. She seemed to forget how the code system on the back of the card worked, to know how much to charge me. What seemed like ages later, I finally gave me my change, and I walked out of the shop while zipping up my sweatshirt, not wanting just anyone to see what they shouldn't. I was grinning again from ear to ear with the elation of my new found freedom. Another one tango'd, and I felt fantastic! Being able to just stand in a shop in front of someone with a low-cut top on as if it was an everyday occurrence was almost too much for me toget my head around.
What was beginning to dawn on me by this stage, was that because I had 'real' breasts, I too had 'weapons', just like those two girls on tv. These 'weapons gave me power, and increasing confidence. As I had more power, the people who I decided to 'expose' myself to seemed to loose theirs, including their confidence. Maybe it's a bit like a power struggle - and my breasts were winning, every time. This was really a turnaround for me. I was normally the one feeling inadequate and embarrassed when 'spotted’ while dressed over the years. I was now in heaven (or maybe even beyond).
As my outings continued over the weeks and months when I was able get days off work, I dared myself to take this whole concept to the ultimate stage. I went to an out of town shoe shop and bought a pair of black stiletto boots with pointed toes. Again with the help of my ample bosom, I was able to try these boots on in the shop and walk around the store in them without a problem. My long leg boot cut jeans just covered the heels to the floor, which would disguise them well. I went to the till with my purchase, she saw my breasts, and then kept her head bowed for the rest of the transaction.
When I got home, I inspected this whole outfit in my detail and realised that from the neck down, I was actually fully dressed as a 'complete' female. I now needed even more guts to wear all of this lot out in public, but I decided I had my weapons and they would do what was required.
I went back to the out-of-town shoe shop where I had bought the boots, walked through the doors and went to try some more boots on. A group of older school girls were at one end of the isle, when one of them noticed I had high heels on. This was fascinating them, I could tell from their comments to each other which they thought I couldn't hear. After a few minutes I decided it was time…I checked my front to make sure everything was looking good, then turned towards them and walked a few paces down, so they could get a view, and then stopped.
Their conversation will stay with me forever..
Oh my God.. he's got tits as well!
Oh God, Oh my God!
I glanced slipways and saw about 5 pairs of eyes glued to my front
Right, I thought - that's you lot done!
They sent one of the younger ones for a closer inspection, which I obliged (in passing). I then walked to the next isle and back along to them as the girl walked back to the pack., so I could overhear them a little better…
My God…I can't believe it..he's tits are huge!
Cue a broad smile on my face with me thinking...you schoolgirls can dream, but you wont have anything this magnificent unless you are damn lucky. I drove away from the store almost laughing my head off, this was so satisfying, and addictive.
I continued testing this 'full' outfit out, mainly from multi-story car parks attached to shopping mall, etc, so I could get into shops fairly quickly without having to walk far, and was really amazed they almost nobody noticed what I was wearing.
I did however make sure that my jeans covered my heels and I glued rubber pads under my heels to make them almost silent while walking. I mainly went into women's shops, tried on shoes and boots, etc. Hardly anyone noticed me, and I decided that as women are so focused when they are in their favourite shops, it takes a lot to distract them.
On another outing, I went into a large toy shop chain. This time I wore high heel boots with normal sounding heels. I walked up and down the isles, stopping next to other women with high heels on, browsed the goods next to them, around them, etc. I showed off my boobs…nothing. I wondered what was wrong with everyone in here. Do I need to grab hold of their heads and twist them to face my boobs for them to appreciate perfection.
After this episode, I decided to take things to yet another level. I bought a knitted zip-up jumper with hood, which was more figure hugging, and showed off my hip/waist curves. This really showed my boobs off, even showing off my nipples slightly. While in a large Boots store, I was noticed by about 20% of customers, who noticed my hips first, then my covered boobs, then my high heels. I then went into other women's stores nearby, whose isles were less defined, and this time nobody noticed. I had to get my boobs out to get attention. It was interesting to see how some women who want another look, edge their way around the clothing rails to get a second look. This intrigues me. If they only caught a glimpse of my front, some of them may think…my god, I thought I just saw a man with breasts - surely not? I'm going to have another look. When they get one, I can see their eyes widen, then they notice me staring at them, and they look away immediately. I wonder if they are scared of being thought of as fancying someone else's breasts?
The people I get most enjoyment out of tango'ing, are those who decide to have a good giggle between themselves if they notice parts of my 'outfit'. In the past, when this happened while fully dressed, this would result in me having to make a rapid exit to avoid any more embarrassment. How the tables have turned.
Now if this happens, I make a bee-line for these people, when I decide the timing is good.. This is of course exactly the last thing they would ever expect and throws them completely - and that's before the see my boobs.
I was in a women's clothing store when two young sales girls noticed my boots. They were laughing behind their hands, and looking over now and again. I walked around the store, just browsing, and when the time was right, I strolled towards one of them on my hit list with plenty of my cleavage on display and asked her…I'm looking for a black pleated miniskirt to go clubbing in on the weekend…do you have any in stock? After what seemed like ages, once she got over the shock of the question, and of course a pair of hot boobs nearly in her face, she escorted me to the miniskirt rail.
More smiles wiped off faces.. Oh, these are happy days indeed. This episode gave me an idea for the future.
It is so interesting to see how women looked at my breasts. I always watch their eyes very carefully. There seems to be 4 types of looks;
1 They stare blatantly at them - wide-eyed and absolutely fascinated
2 They look at me, then down at my boobs, then somewhere else-totally embarrassed
3 They just dwell on them for a spilt second and are too embarrass to look again
4 Some people look at me and my boobs as an overall look, with no reaction at all. I reckon they dismiss
what they have just seen completely, because men don't have breasts, so what they thought they saw, they didn't see.
Best moments so far:
Hmm, this is a hard one - there have been so many, it's hard to choose.
I was in an open plan department store in 'my' full dress mode. I saw that one of the sales staff had noticed my while wearing everything including my tight'ish zip-up top. She went over to tell the others behind the counter. The shop was nearly empty and I just hear them chatting. I heard the phrase 'false boobs as well'. Well, that was all I needed to hear. I was out of their sight behind and isle, I adjusted my front and pulled my low-cut top down slightly more than normal for a 'fun-sized' view. I took a deep breather and walked around the isle and towards their counter. The two middle-ages sales 'girls' were standing on either side of the male assist who was leaning against the back wall. As soon as they noticed my 'chest', both of the women raised a hand to cover their gasping mouths in almost unison. The man leaning against the wall almost stumbled as he tried to stand up straight. I learnt something else I hadn't fully realised while I marched to up them. There was a mirrored pillar close to the
counter, which I could see myself in. I knew that my boobs bounced up and down a little in trainers. But the sight I saw in the mirror even impress me. Because I was walking in high heeled boots, my boobs were almost doing as disco dance in front. This was like a walk in heaven for me, I felt fantastic. I asked any of them what time the store closed. They didn't seem to be sure any more… being in a state of shock. Three more tango'd to add to my list
I have always thought about strutting into a big out-of-town supermarket, dressed fully from the neck down, including long, dark red nails. One afternoon, I decided that the time had come to bless Sainsbury's with my female image. I sat in the car park, getting my nerves together. I glued some rubber pads to the bottom of my boot heels to quieten them. When the entrance was quiet, I headed off, grabbed a trolley to help disguise my image slightly, and walked into the store. I walked past the 'meeter & greeter', no reaction. Walked down the isles, put some of my weekly shopping items into my trolley, taking smaller steps because of my heels. I headed for the clothing section, and took a few skirts off the rail in turn to try against me (my confidence getting ridiculously high).
I glanced sideways and saw a mother and daughter exchanging smiling glances after obviously seeing my boldness. Right, I thought, you need are going to be punished for that. I wondered away around the end of the isle, had unzipped my top, had a quick private look at my ‘voluptuous friends', and adjusted the level of my top/cleavage depending on their level of 'crime'. I walked back to where they were at the other end of the first isle, and saw them walking slowly down the next isle, probably looking for me, for another giggle. I quietly caught them up and followed them, a few paces behind. They stopped at the end of the isle, stooped and looked each way. They then saw me, and both of their jaws seem to drop and their eyes widened in formation…tango'd!. I then moved between the mother and the end of the isle, having to turn sideways as I did to have enough room to squeeze through, with her boobs and my boobs almost rubbing against each other as I passed.
Then I walked up the next isle a few steps and browsed some more. I glanced sideways and saw them heading off to the food section, after maybe abandoning their clothes shopping plans, or just in a state of shock.
I continued up and down most isles, feeling very pleased with myself, and feeling wonderful as well as my boobs gave a little bounce with each step.. I got to the booze isle, and was selecting a wine when I felt I was being observed. I glanced up at an angle and saw a women looking quickly away, and pretending to look at the bottles. I turned away, a quick unzip, check and turned back to lean forwards near her to reach for a bottle, at the same time glancing towards her slightly, to see her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. She turned away and trotted off, hopefully to make an appointment with her plastic surgeon, as I was much bigger better shaped than her tiny ones.
Eventually, I went to the tills and stood in the queue, chatted to the women in front of me, put all my stuff on the conveyer belt, paid for my stuff, walked back to the car. I was amazing that nobody at the till area noticed a thing at all, not even the cashier with my long fingernails. I walked out of there with my 'chest' puffed up - even higher than normal, and another perfect and wonderful experience.
When I was back in my car, thinking about this outing, it occurred to me that of all the women in the store, I had the highest heels, longest nails, probably the biggest boobs, well, the best looking boobs by far, and the lowest low-cut top. In fact, I was the smartest dressed 'female' in the store, all the others looked like they were going caving or something. This seems to be the norm generally, except for younger ones who make an effort.
I sometimes still wonder some days after my outings whether they have just been a dream. It's hard for me to conceive, that after so many years of tv'ing out of the public's gaze, and having to make a hasty retreat if spotted, I am now able to do exactly the opposite. If someone had bet me a million pounds (or any currency) that in 2004, I would be able to stand in a women's clothing shop talking to female sales assistants in broad daylight, while balancing on stiletto heels, with long fingernails, and a sexy bra holding back a superb pair of breasts, about to fall out of a low-cut top, I would have taken the bet…and lost. The freedom is overwhelming. But if it wasn't for my boobs, I just wouldn't dare do any of this. No cleavage = no weapons = no confidence, no way of shutting people up who dare try and embarrass me, and no way of turning them into the embarrassed ones. When you have had them on for a while, they seem to become part of you. I have also not dressed up fully since having my new boobs. I haven't even considered it (I realised the other day).
This would restrict me back to non-public places. I am getting used to my new freedom, and getting addicted to it. I used to get dressed about once a month on average, now it seems to be about once a day (well…almost). I have used up most of my holiday allocation . It's difficult not to, when you look down and see and feel this wonderful image on the front your body, it's just an absolutely
