I’m getting bigger. I’m growing. My sizes are going up. I weigh more. My thighs are meatier. My ass is rounder. My arms are thicker. My shoulders and traps are swelling. Sure, you guys are all focused on the changing size of a different part of my anatomy, and that’s cool, too. But it’s not clit growth that I’m talking about right now. I’m talking about putting on pure size as my body grows and changes with every hour I put in on the iron, every extra gram of protein I eat, every extra minute of recovery sleep I get in. I’m getting serious about my lifting again, and my body has started to change again, too. The only things that are looking smaller are my boobs.
I don’t think they’ve actually shrunk a whole lot yet, mind you. I’m still an American B-cup, I guess, or a Japanese C-cup. I don’t wear a bra, so I don’t know for sure. (I just wear nipple shields.) But as my chest and lats and back get bigger and bigger, my poor little boobs look smaller and smaller proportionally, as the same amount of soft tissue has to cover the growing slabs of muscle underneath. If and when I diet down again, I’ll have a very androgynous chest. Yes I can hear some of you saying I already have one, and that’s fine, too. But I mean really androgynous, like, “you got your mother in a world where she’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl” androgynous. (I love that song!)
I know, because I’ve dieted down to nearly ripped before since I started lifting (but before I started blogging and really taking pictures faithfully, sadly), and I lost my boobs entirely. Because they have always been little and because of their Asian champagne-glass shape, they literally just shrink away.
There were no tiny leftover vestigial tits the way there can be if you diet away big hanging titties. I’m most definitely not knocking that look, which I see on some of my favorite female bodybuilders who haven’t gotten implants. It’s damned sexy to me. All boobs are damned sexy to me, of course, but there’s something special about boobs that have been through some things, whether it’s bodybuilding and the dieting and hormones that go with it or just the way boobs change when you’ve had a kid or two and nursed them. I love the look of Mom nipples! More on that in Part II, though.
But I’m getting off track…The point is, when I got really skinny for the last time (so far, I mean; not saying it won’t happen again), I had nothing left but nipples and areolae. When my nips weren’t erect, I had what looked like a slightly athletic teenage boy’s chest. To be honest, though, I didn’t get to see that very often, though, as my nipples are pretty nearly always a little erect, and pretty much anytime I looked at my (to me) freaky chest naked, they poked right out and stood right up!
I still remember the first time my partner pointed out just how flat I’d gotten. He was a little tentative, like I might be upset about it, mourning my boobs or whatever. He was like, “Wow, your body is changing so fast,” as he leaned down and ran his fingers over my chest as I lay stretched out on the bed beneath him while he fucked me–slowly, for the moment. I knew they had gotten much smaller, but I’d been paying so much attention to my abs and my legs that I hadn’t really realized just how flat-chested I had gotten.
“It’s because I have my arms over my head,” I said. He smiled. “Try putting your arms down by your sides.” I did, and I was shocked to see that there was hardly any difference, and what there was was almost all muscle. I looked up at him, and said, do you mind, that I have no breasts right now?” And he ran his fingers over the hard muscle where my curves used to be, and said, “Fuck, no! You’re hot when you’re soft and curvy with boobs, and you’re hot when you’re ripped and hard without them. I get to explore a whole new body. It’s sexy because it’s like I’m fucking a completely different person. Honestly, I feel like I’m cheating on old you with new you!” I know he was telling the truth, because he fucked me harder and rougher than he ever had (but not harder or rougher than I wanted him to).
Later, when we were lying next to each other and he was stroking my muscle chest and lazily tracing the shape of my pecs, after we had caught our breath but before the throbbing glowing feeling had warn off, I asked him, “But will you be sad if I don’t stay this thin? It probably won’t last very long.” He laughed, and pinched my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. “No! Then I’ll be cheating on hardbody you with future pinup girl you, or future BBW you. I’ll be excited all over again.”
Yeah, that was a good night. Not that I need other people to approve of my body, but, you know…it does feel nice.
Anyhow, right now I’m not in danger of getting ripped, but my boobs are looking smaller and smaller. Next week I have to interrupt my bulking to diet for a civilian photoshoot, though, and then my boobs really will start to shrink, and fast. And I’m ok with that. I’m ok with smaller boobs, though I do love big boobs, as anyone who’s read this blog know. And I’d like to have a pair someday, even if just for a while. I have an ideas about that, but it might not be what you might think. I’ll talk about it soon, in part II of this post!