My Aunt’s Gift

Haziran 27, 2024 Yazar admin 0

Big Tits

I share all of the traits that run through my maternal family line: blonde hair, blue eyes, gorgeous body, nice ass, and my breasts weigh in at a thirty-four ‘C’. Scandinavian blood runs strong through our family. Google Scandinavian model, and more than likely one of my relatives will show up on it in the top twenty hits. Google Swedish models, and someone related to me would be in the top ten. I’m pretty confident that if I was a model I would be in the top twenty.

And that’s no idle boast.

Which would be great.

If I was a woman.

I’m not.

I have a dick to prove it, the only thing I inherited from my dad.

Aaaaand there go a bunch of readers thinking this will be one of the those kinds of stories.

This is really not one of those kinds of stories.


Other than wearing a sports bra out of necessity, I don’t wear women’s clothes. I don’t wear makeup, don’t walk or act like a woman in any way. I’m not gay, not flamboyant, or have any desire to be a woman at all.

I identify as male, despite being in this body.

I probably should have been another daughter, but God has a cruel, sadistic, sense of humor and saw fit to make me male at the last second, slapping a dick on me and called it a day, having a good laugh at my expense.

Ninety percent of my body is female, except for the ten percent that really matters.

I’m intersex, but I’ve been called androgynous, hermaphrodite, as well as less complimentary names, but honestly, none of these labels really apply. At least not how most people think of what that label means. Just say ‘androgynous’ and most of you will assume a person that you can’t really tell what sex they are by looking at them.

I don’t have that problem. Not only do I look and sound like a woman, I’m damn gorgeous too which is why I led off this story with how I look.

I’m not a hermaphrodite, as I have no uterus, no fallopian tubes, or any kind of female plumbing. My male parts have been proven to work quite well, than you very much, and more than likely any children I sire will be perfectly normal.

As a child, I was on track to be a handsome young man until the onset of puberty hit me like a train wreck in slow motion and everything went sideways for me. Seemingly out of nowhere, I began to grow breasts, and my body reshaped itself into a woman. The only thing that developed the way it should was my dick.

So what went wrong?

Something to do with a small gene pool, as our village in Sweden was pretty remote and didn’t see many outsiders. With such a small representation of DNA contributors, inbreeding was bound to happen, resulting in oddities in offspring. I inherited a rare genetic quirk that has run in the family bloodline for generations. Doctors think the gene that turns on the male development at puberty got confused and turned on female development too. My adrenal glands are larger than most, and produce elevated levels of estrogen and other hormones normally associated with female development. But I don’t exhibit any of the symptoms or suffer from the weaknesses associated with Estrogen Dominance.

Evidently this happened many times going back generations in my family line. A great great aunt many times removed was said to have the same condition as I, and a year after Sister Hilda joined a convent, nearly all the nuns- including the mother superior- were pregnant, and Sister Hilda would eventually be branded as a witch, and burned at the stake by the church as an affront to god. The convent was subsequently deconsecrated, razed and turned into farm land for goats. The trial was well documented in the village archives, and Aunt Hilda is a patron saint of the village, believe it or not. There have been others with this condition to varying degrees throughout our family history as well, but none as infamous as Sister Hilda. Usually this genetic quirk isn’t very pronounced, but it had to pick me to really shine what a misfiring in the DNA could do.

As this kind of thing is not a rare occurrence in my home town in Sweden, my changing of gender appearances didn’t garner much attention from the locals, and I led a pretty normal life as a youth. In all ways that mattered, I was a boy and did boy things, even if I had to wear a bra. Most town folk just shrugged their shoulders and life went on.

Not so in the United States.

After we moved to the United States, I enrolled in public school. Boys would hit on me and recoil in disgust when they learned the truth. I couldn’t make friends. No one wanted to be friends with the freak. After a locker room incident that went viral on social media and then made national news, several teens were convicted and sent to juvenile prison, the school was hit with a massive lawsuit, and many of the school staff as well as the sheriff were fired for trying to cover up the crime.

I’m sure you heard about it, but I don’t blame you for not remembering. I was an internet meme for a while, the punch Escort bayan line of late night talk show hosts. I still have nightmares of what happened that day in the locker room. The less said of the horror of my life in the American school system, the better. After what happened to me, mom pulled me from school, quit her work to home school me. Dad hired an Israeli security firm to teach me self defense, so that I would never again be a victim.

I thought bulking up would make me look more manly like my dad, but years of cross country skiing in the winter, running in the summer, and lifting weights year round has left me better toned, and to many people, a hotter looking woman. I did steroids and testosterone for a while, but all it did was make my body splotchy with tufts of hair, and constantly angry. My older sister teased that I was PMSing all the time. Since I wasn’t really benefitting from the shots, I stopped going to the doctor and I lost all of my body hair, even the few scraggly strands I had before getting the shots, leaving just a wispy cluster of fine blonde pubic hair.

Outside of my native hometown, few will accept me, and then only begrudgingly. Only Uncle Rock and Aunt Asta accept me as I am. Aunt Asta is my mom’s younger sister by nearly ten years, and only about eight years older than I am. Aunt Asta is the most beautiful woman I would ever meet, both in looks and her outlook on life. Remember those top twenty Scandinavian models I mentioned earlier? She’s in there, as she used to model when she was younger. She was pretty famous too, but gave it all up to marry Rock.

My Aunt and Uncle are a blast, and they live life to the fullest. Self made millionaires, they retired at an early age and enjoyed their retirement by exploring the world, going on adventures to remote lands and living life to the fullest. Who knew licensing a patent for a revolutionary new kind of industrial can opener could be the answer to all of life’s woes? When I was young, I absolutely loved their visits, and the tales they would tell about the world they’d seen. India, China, Japan and so many more places they visited!

I envied their world travels.

Aunt Asta claimed her favorite place to visit was wherever I was at. Really boosted my spirits to hear that. My Aunt and Uncle would take me to the zoo, amusement parks, and other places and spoil me rotten. They made me feel like I was the center of the universe, and I was the child they could never have. After the locker room incident, Aunt Asta begged my parents to let me live with them in Sweden.

I really wished my parents had said yes.

I love Aunt Asta to the point I worship the ground she walks on.

We were spending Christmas at the Lake House just north of the US/Canadian border. It’s not too far off the main road, regularly plowed in the the winter. An hours drive will get you to the local municipal airport, so it’s both convenient and gives a sense of being remote. It’s very picturesque and secluded, perfect for Swedish expatriates living in North America.

The Lake House is the only place guaranteed to have snow, something my dad insisted was a requirement for a proper Christmas. It’s also our first family reunion, for all of our kin in the United States and Canada, so there are a number of families and the house is a bit crowded, but in true dad style, everyone has a place to sleep. Dad won’t abide anyone getting a hotel room. It helped that the nearest hotel was nearly twenty miles away.

The Lake House was really a summer home, meant to be used in the warmer months. Dad remodeled the house for year round use, complete with a diesel generator should we lose power, and enough supplies to make Roald Amundsen envious.

But the one thing he was most proud was the snowcat he and I had restored over the summer. A big massive snowmobile with a heated cab you ride inside, the kind you see used in the Antarctic. We had just finished rolling it off the trailer and into the purpose built garage when another car pulled up into the long driveway.

Once parked, the passenger door opened to reveal Aunt Asta’s radiant smile, that only grew wider upon seeing me running to give her a hug and kiss, just as I had always done. I know she was surprised to see just how much I had grown in the last year, and my hug was enthusiastically returned. She couldn’t pick me up, but she tried anyway.

“Christ Alva, you’ve gotten heavy!” She said in Swedish with a mock groan. “How much gold do you have in your pockets?”

Alva meant Elf in Swedish, her nickname for me since I was a child.

“God Jul!” I replied in Swedish.

“Merry Christmas to you too!” She exclaimed.

We traded excited pleasantries while Dad and Uncle Rock pulled suit cases from the car. They were going to stay with us for a week through Christmas, before leaving for a stay in the Caribbean.

After seeing to their things, getting them settled in for what promised to be an awesome Christmas, we shared Bayan escort snacks and drinks, and spent a lot of time catching up with all guests. At some point, my mom and the other women drifted off to the dining room to drink their coffee, to get caught up on all the gossip and everything that had happened in our homeland since we left Sweden. Don’t know why, as mom traded texts with everyone at least once a day, and her Facebook page was always a hive of activity.

I think the rest of the men were watching a football game via satellite television, and the kids were in the game room playing foosball or video games. Since American football wasn’t really to my taste, I went to help dad and Uncle Rock finish cutting a hole in the lake ice for what would come later. My dad was happy that the ice was thick, and the water clear. Much better than the warm winter of last year. The hole was precisely located over a mound of sand dad sank in the summer so we wouldn’t stand in anything icky. Dad didn’t like the deeper water, preferring just deep enough to come to his chest so it made it easier to get in and out of the water, especially for those not accustomed with this Swedish tradition. I set the wooden steps and grab bar into the ice, making sure it wouldn’t collapse, something to help people out should they need it.

The weather was perfect for what we planned. It wasn’t too cold and it would take a while for the water to glaze over, but the hole would undoubtedly freeze over tonight.

In Sweden, it is a tradition to get hot in the sauna, and then go for an icy plunge in a frozen lake, or roll in the snow, and run back to get warm again. It was something I looked forward to all year long and couldn’t wait to take my first plunge.

“Tell mom that we’re set, and to bring the beer. We’ll meet up in the bastu.” Dad said as he and Uncle Rock gathered the tools to carry back to the shed.

I didn’t need to tell anyone we were done, as no sooner we’re on the dock when three of my cousins rushed past us completely naked and jump into the hole in the ice, laughing and screaming as they went. They had been in the sauna waiting for us to finish the hole. The first to go, but certainly not the last.

Uncle Rock laughed, and dad shook his head, turning to watch them for a moment.

Just as we reached the house, my now thoroughly frozen cousins rushed past us again, in the opposite direction, racing back to the warmth of the sauna, their wet skin filled with goosebumps and chattering teeth. Just as we reached the door, another group dashed outside towards the lake.

It’s a large bastu, a sauna, professional grade, imported from Sweden. Dad takes his sauna’s very seriously, and spared no expense getting this one installed. It could seat the whole family, with room for a few visitors. Much like sitting around the American dinner table to discuss matters of importance, dad liked to discuss things in the sauna, as he believed the sauna made everyone equal. Still, it wasn’t large for everyone here for Christmas, and that was fine. There were many of our extended family not comfortable with nudity, and dad had set aside a time for the others to use the sauna. I suspect my presence made a few uncomfortable, and it was easier just to avoid me completely.

We quickly stripped naked and grabbed a folded towel from the pile, and entered the Sauna to find our seats.

The towels were only used to cover the wooden bench for a place to sit, sort of like showing that the seat was taken, so you weren’t sitting in someone else’s sweaty ass juice.

Like most Swedes, my family really doesn’t pay attention to nudity. Nudity just wasn’t seen as something sexual for Swedish people. For some of the new members of the family it had to be awkward, but we understood, and this was the first time dad permitted swim suits in the sauna. My Sister Effe was naked, but her American born husband Eaton was wearing a swimsuit, and it was obvious he had never been in a true Swedish sauna before as he nervously glanced from one person to another, and when his eyes alit on me, he stared so much that Effe had to elbow him, reminding him to mind his manners.

I found a seat next to dad and Uncle Rock. Just as I began to warm up, mom and Aunt Asta entered, naked as well, and they were carrying a bucket of iced bottles of imported beer that they passed to anyone who wanted one. I’ve mentioned before that Aunt Asta is beautiful, but words alone really can’t convey just how beautiful she really is. It’s like she’s the most magnificent sunrise you’ve ever seen, the kind that takes your breath away.

Sitting across from Aunt Asta, I got a full view of as she sat with her legs slightly parted, a view from her perfect breasts to her perfectly groomed pubes, and the hint of the dark velvety ripples of her nether regions beneath her mound. I’ve seen every one in my family naked, and it was something I really never paid attention to, but the way my body reacted to seeing Aunt Astra nude Escort surprised the hell out of me. I had to force myself to look away, stare at anything except my Aunt.

I felt the stirrings in my dick, as if it were awakening from a long slumber. Incredibly, my breasts started to feel heavy, and my nipples hardened.

What the fuck? I thought, wondering what the hell was going on.

Was I seriously having sexual feelings toward my Aunt?

I tried to concentrate on the conversation dad was having with Uncle Rock. Uncle Rock was trying to convince dad to invest in a small resort village that came up for sale in the Caribbean. Boring stuff, and I quickly tuned them out, and stole a glance to where my Aunt was sitting.

That was a mistake.

She was gazing at me intently, a small smile on her lips.

I was horrified that she may knew the truth of what was happening to me, what I was thinking.

My cock began to grow.

“I’m going for a plunge.” I announced suddenly, desperate to conceal the awakening demon. I damn near sprinted from the sauna and made a bee line for the lake. I prayed to god that the icy water would banish the thoughts swimming in my head, and that my family wouldn’t see the swelling hardness of my cock.

By the time I reached the dock, I had to hold onto my erection so it wouldn’t slap my legs as I ran. I didn’t hesitate, jumping into the water.

And damn was the lake cold!

That did the trick. My cock instantly deflated, shriveled, my balls trying to seek warmth within me. If my dick had a voice, it would have screamed its death throes. My arousal dissipated in record time.

I breathed a sigh of relief as my body cooled rapidly, still trying to understand what the fuck just happened, when two more bodies plunged into the opening beside me.

It was mom and Aunt Asta.

Dad had a long standing rule that there had to be three people present during a plunge in the lake, either in the water, or standing beside it. He was witness to a child hood tragedy, and he would ensure such a thing never happened to his family.

Mom popped up first, sputtering and laughing, exclaiming how great it felt. Aunt Asta popped up beside her.

“Come on!” Mom shouted gleefully, grabbing my arm, pulling herself from the frozen water. “It’s freezing!”

Aunt Asta gave me a look as she reached for the grab bar. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said, her teeth chattering.

“I- uh.” I squeaked.

Aunt Asta glanced down at me and laughed. Blood roared through my ears in embarrassment so I didn’t hear what she said when she turned to mom. Mom looked back, and Asta held up her fingers as if measuring a small length, and mom laughed in turn.

Aunt Asta grinned mischievously. “Don’t worry about it. The cold does weird things to the body. Go roll in the snow, and meet us back in the sauna!”

I was certain all eyes were on me when I finally returned to the blessed warmth of the sauna. But it was apparent that Mom and Aunt Asta hadn’t said anything to the others and were back deep into their conversation. Once more seated, I waited for my body to warm. Fuck I was frozen! Dad slapped me on the back, handed me a beer, and congratulated me for being the first to dip and roll, turning myself into a giant walking snowcone. I could only nod, clumps of ice beginning to fall from my almost hypothermic body.

When at last I finally stopped shivering, I gathered my nerve and looked up to see Aunt Asta watching me intently, her legs crossed now, the gates to the promised land beyond my reach. Catching my eyes, she grinned, and I looked away, crimson rising in my cheeks once more.

What the fuck was happening to me?

Exercise has always been my go to solution for stress. Since it was a beautiful day, the sun bright and the new fallen snow still powdery I thought maybe pushing myself cross country skiing would help me to shed these confusing thoughts I was having for Aunt Asta.

So others wouldn’t think I was avoiding them, even though I was, I announced my intentions in the great room and asked if anyone wanted to join me.

“Where to?” Dad asked.

“Lookout Point.” I answered, purposefully choosing a distant location. It would be a hell of a workout.

“Damn son, it’s Christmas Eve, not try outs for the Olympics.” Dad whistled. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

As expected, I had no takers, which suited me just fine. As usual, dad warned me to stick to the trails, take the rifle, my phone, and keep an eye on the weather. There was another front expected to come through that night. I made my way to the garage, found my cross country skis. I figured several hours of intensive exercise would help to clear my mind.

“Still want some company?” I heard Aunt Asta say as I geared up.

My blood went cold. I wanted to say no. I probably should have. She was the reason I was going skiing.

“Love to have your company.” I said instead. “I’ll wait on you. I have to warn you, it’s a good distance.”

While my Aunt went to borrow appropriate skiing attire from my mom, I got her skis ready, wondering why I agreed to let her come with me.

I couldn’t very well have said no, could I?

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