Wererock

"Thank you."

I took the cupcake and sat on a green wooden bench in the middle of countless shoppers that all became gawkers and commentators. I ate the cupcake, reveling in my shame, with the Victoria's Secret bag sitting between my feet. My back was against the bench, my tits were jutting into the world for all to see. The bra was clearly visible beneath my light blue shirt. I finished the cupcake and looked at the wrapper. I had to get rid of it and I had a bag with me. At the time, it made perfect sense. I pulled out my bright yellow bra and set it on my lap. The cupcake wrapper went into the pink striped bag. I carried my garbage bag in one hand and my lacy yellow bra in the other.

Five minutes later I was back in my car, trembling in embarrassment and sexual lust. I dropped my hand to my lap and came again.

I slept well that night.

Thursday morning came and with it the memory of what I'd done the night before. I felt a wave of regret, promising myself I'd never to that again. I sat up and felt my tits shift. My nipples hardened in the cold room. Draped across the recliner that sat in the corner were my two bras, lying there as twin reminders of what I'd done. The memory of the shame returned which was far greater than recalling what I had done. This was a reminder of what I felt. That lead to another glance at the bras. Suddenly I wanted to wear the yellow one and see how it made my tits bounce.

I hopped out of bed, anxious to see the yellow bra caressing my breasts. I donned the bra much faster than the one the evening before. Naked except for that lacy yellow bra that pushed my tits out and left my nipples uncovered, I walked around my house, moving from room to room. My eyes were riveted to my tits. The jiggled and jostled, bounced and bobbed. It was painfully exciting.

I stayed naked all day except for the bra. I kept looking down, finding myself excited by my tits and afraid of them, too. I was stuck with them until my Wererock arrived. I tried to wish them away, but without the rock they were a part of me; only surgery could remove them. The hair on my chest looked out of place and while I didn't have the stone I could do something about that.

I climbed in the shower and lathered up my chest, feeling a pang of regret as I removed my bra. I gently scraped away the hair until my tits were free of that course bundle of brown hair mixed with an errant gray. My armpits felt the pull of the razor as well; I wanted nothing to disturb the view I expected when seeing a beautiful pair of breasts barely enclosed by a sexy, lacy bra.

Finished with the shower I donned the bra again. I watched TV. I browsed the web. I made lunch and dinner all while doing nothing but watching my tits bounce in that sexy little bra. They looked amazing and without the hair I found myself turned on by them. The fear of the Werestone not arriving was there, simmering on the back burner, a nagging, scary thought that kept my nerves on edge and my overly sensitive nipples crystalline hard.

That night I masturbated, one hand on my erection and the other pinching and pulling my deliciously hard nipples. I sucked them into my mouth, hoisting them with one hand. If my tits were bigger I could get the nipples to my mouth easier. That thought was enough to send me over the edge. My come launched upward, landing on my ripe chest. Some come landed on my tits; without thinking I licked that, too. It revolted me but excited me at the same time. It was another new thing in an ever-growing pool of new experiences. I felt a new wave of shame as I tasted the warm, saltiness of my spunk. It wasn't anything I had ever thought of doing before but that didn't stop me from doing it then. I regretted it and knew I'd do it again at the same time.

I fell asleep wearing that pretty yellow bra.

FedEx arrived just before ten Friday morning. I signed for the package wearing a pair of shorts, a T-shirt that had somehow become far too small and my pretty yellow bra. My tits lifted the shirt and the way they bounced when I walked was nothing short of mesmerizing. Truth is, I didn't think anything of opening the door with my tits jutting proudly forward. Sure, I wanted them gone before I went to work on Monday, but I wanted them to be bigger, too.

I signed for the package, not saying anything to the strange stare the burly FedEx employee gave me. What could I say? Until I opened the white box there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway. Still, I felt a surge of shame and desire crash down on me by that disgusted glare. Why was humiliation suddenly so exciting? That was the first thought. The second was more gleeful, the stone is back!

I shut the door so hard the little window above it rattled. I tore open the box and pulled out the stone. It felt good to touch it, my fingers slipping over the cold, smooth surface. I rubbed the stone, feeling its weight. It seemed to vibrate in my hand like one of those little buzzers they give you at restaurants to tell you your table is ready. There was an energy in the stone I hadn't really felt. It seems my stone missed me, too.

I stripped and made my tits disappear. I needed to do that first, to make sure I wasn't truly trapped with tits until I could have a doctor take them away. My breasts disappeared. My chest looked out of place without the hair that was normally there.

I marched into the bedroom and donned a pair of jeans. The Werestone stayed in my nightstand. I had an errand to run and I didn't want the stone to be a distraction. The same T-shirt I'd been wearing when I signed for my package looked normal now that I didn't have those magnificent orbs hanging from my chest.

I drove back to the mall I'd visited two days before. The sun was bright, spilling warmth onto the cool morning. By mid-afternoon it would be almost ninety degrees but that morning it was still barely seventy and the day felt good. I drove with the windows down and a cool breeze mussing my brown hair. I felt good. My experiment had been a success. I had come up with a way to trap myself with whatever change I wanted and it was delicious. I had so many more things I wanted to try. I had to escalate, that was the thought that kept my excitement high and my mind racing. That next time it would be bigger. It would be longer. It would be scarier. Could the stone amplify my feelings of humiliation? I thought it could. Could it make me a slave to my own desires? Could it make me do things I didn't want to do? That thought made me tremble. I had some more experimenting to do.

I parked at the mall and made my way to the center of the three concourses that merged at a covered tent. A pretty woman about my age was sitting behind a circular desk. She smiled as I approached. "Can I help you?"

"Hi. I accidently left a jacket in the men's room. I was wondering if anyone turned it in?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir." She had a pretty smile. She had short brown hair pulled back into a tiny pony tail that barely reached halfway down her head. She had blue eyes that reminded me of Dory from those Pixar movies. There were even a few flakes of gold in those pretty eyes. The woman opened a little cabinet beneath her desk and pulled out my jacket. She placed it on the counter. "Here you go; is this it?"

It was. I picked it up and draped it on my arm, "That's it. Thank you, Cynthia," I said, reading her nametag. She was wearing a smart black blouse, buttoned to her throat; she had on tiny heels and a skirt that ended just below her knees. She was very pretty and yet I couldn't chase the thought that my tits had been bigger than hers. It was catty and I felt bad for thinking it but a little bit proud, too.

She gave me a smile that lit up her face. I glanced at her hand; no ring. Was she single? She was pretty, very pretty, so somehow, I doubted it, but I was feeling confident. I had my stone back and if she was taken, well, I'd never have to see her again. I could be someone else. Anyone else. That reality was empowering. "This might sound forward, but are you free for dinner tonight?"

Her pretty smile became even prettier. "Are you asking me out?" Her voice was playful and melodious.

I nodded, "I am." I held out my hand. "Adam," I gave her my last name.

"I have plans tonight," she said, feigning an exaggerated frown. "How about tomorrow night?"

That was even better. I could play with the stone. "Great!" We exchanged info, putting our information in each other's phones. Business cards of the digital age.

And that was how I met Cynthia. Cynthia who would teach me a few more things about the Wererock. Cynthia who became just as enraptured as I was by what that stone could do. Cynthia, that took over and made me do things I had imagined but never truly realized.

Cynthia who would one day become my wife.

Chapter 3

Triggers

I drove away from the mall feeling confidently happy. Cynthia was a pretty girl and I was looking forward to seeing her the next night. I knew the perfect place to take her, a quaint little seafood place on the river that served fresh Appalachia oysters and perfectly blackened red snapper. Just thinking about it was making me hungry. I didn't know if Cynthia liked seafood but even if she didn't they served fresh steaks and homemade soups that were better than I'd ever had.

I thought of how she had smiled and the way it made her look even prettier. Her blue eyes had somehow lit her whole face; I found myself thinking of her more than the stone, but only until I got closer to the house. As I approached my neighborhood, passing those matchbox houses that looked the same with very few variations, the Wererock once again dominate my thoughts. It was as if it was calling out to me. I could practically hear it telling me all the fun we could have. The thing is, now, I think it really was calling me. If that sounds nuts, well, so be it. How is that any crazier than magically growing perfect tits or turning yourself into famous movie stars? I couldn't hope to comprehend the power of that rock, so who's to say it wasn't speaking to me?

I made it in the house, locking the door behind me. I raced to the bedroom and picked up my stone. It felt good in my hand, like it belonged there. I rubbed it, once again picturing those scenarios I had imagined after finding the stone. I donned my pretty yellow bra and then made my tits fill the space left in the empty cups. I was smiling as I walked from room to room, staring at my tits as they bounced. A grin appeared on my face and soon my tits were just a bit too big for the bra; I was spilling out of the cups. I thought of Suyin and wondered what she'd do if I went back and whispered that her measurement wasn't right and that those bras didn't fit. Just the idea of going through that shame again aroused me. Where was that coming from?

With the stone in my hand I wondered about it and that it could do. It could change me; could it change others? I thought of Cynthia with her small chest. Could I make the Wererock give her bigger boobs? I wanted to try but thought better of it. How would she explain it to herself and how would I explain it if we progressed far enough for her to know about this magical stone? No, that wouldn't work.

Next door to me lives an old retired couple. His name is Shane and he spent thirty years in the Air Force. He's a nice guy if a bit nosy. I guess that happens when you have nothing to do during the day than stick your in other people's business just to feel important again. He has ash white hair that's almost as thin as Homer Simpson's. I felt it would be a simple test.

I got dressed after making my breasts deflate. I somehow missed the weight of them. That incessant pull was arousing mostly because it didn't belong there. There's a sense of excitement in being just a little bit naughty and my tits were naughty. I removed my bra, too. Shane was nosy; he'd notice the straps beneath my shirt and that would lead to questions I didn't want to answer.

I walked next door, the Wererock in my pocket.

"Shane?" I knocked on his door.

He came to the door. A skinny man with thin, white hair and blotches on his face, a happy reminder of his skin cancer scare that had been fully resolved. "How are you this morning?"

"Doing great." I made up some excuse for visiting, telling him I was running to the store and I just stopped in to see if he needed anything. It's something we've done from time to time being neighborly.

"No thank you, Adam. Let me check with the wife."

As he scurried into the house, I slipped my hand into my pocket. I pictured Shane with darker hair, not so much as the color of ash but more the color of a peanut. I rubbed the stone, trying to turn Shane's hair that new, darker color.

He returned to the door, his hair unchanged. "We don't need anything." We spent a few minutes talking and then I excused myself. I had to go to the store to keep my lie hidden. On the way, I decided I needed to get something for dinner anyway. My thoughts, however, were on the stone. I couldn't change anyone else; I could only change myself. Could Shane have changed his hair if he'd been rubbing the rock. I was certain he could have.

I held the rock in my hand as I drove to the local grocery store. I wasn't paying attention to the roads or the traffic around me. The only thing on my mind was the rock.

Then, I accidently discovered another power. One that made the stone even stronger than before. Like I said at the beginning of this story, most of my discoveries were accidents. I used to think that. Now I think the rock somehow put the thoughts in my head; it wanted me to know what it could do. I think that maybe I didn't find the Wererock on that little island with those three lonely trees. I think the rock found me.

I live in the Southeast. Our local grocery store chain is called Publix. They're big and bright and remarkably clean. We have a few other choices here in Tallahassee where I live: Albertsons, Winn Dixie, Walmart, but I've always found Publix to be the cleanest and their brand of canned goods is just as good as the name brand stuff. I was holding the rock in one hand, thinking about growing my tits, when the idea came. What would happen if I was in the store, wearing my jeans and the olive-green t-shirt I had on, when my tits just grew? I'd be stuck, braless, inside the store. Other people would see me. The idea send tingling shocks straight to my cock. I made a game out of it. As soon as I saw a banana my tits would grow and there'd be nothing I could do to stop it. Just the thought of being in the produce section trying to hide my boobs behind my thin t-shirt with my face crimson in shame was enough to get my pulse racing and my body trembling. My legs shifted together as I felt a buzz in my crotch that was so powerful it made my hands shake. The idea was delicious. So much so that when I went into the store I left the Werestone sitting in the cup holder. I knew I'd do it if I had the stone with me and while the idea of the humiliation sent my nerves abuzz, the reality of it would be a little more terrifying. With the stone in the car I wouldn't be tempted and if the stone was anything, it was a temptation.

I grabbed one of the little green baskets. I would pick up a steak for dinner and just for fun I'd buy a few bananas for banana sandwiches for lunch. Just seeing them sitting on the counter at home would make me hard.

I started in the produce section. I walked past a few bottles of fruit juice on my left with the deli on my right before reaching the first row of fruit. Oranges and apples and pears were stacked side by side. Some of the fruit looked a bit bruised. At the end of the aisle, past a healthy pile of purple plums sat a row of bananas. I saw them and gasped as my tits grew, filling my chest. The weight of them returned and the increased sensitivity I had given them returned as well. I gasped, dropping the empty green shopping tote and clutched my chest. I wasn't holding the stone. I wasn't holding the stone. I raced to the wall, turning my back to the store. I stood in front of a refrigerated section of lettuces and carrots; the cold air made my nipples icy points. I pulled at my shirt as if that would make my breasts recede. I tried to make them smaller but I wasn't holding the stone. That thought came back again and again. I wasn't holding the stone. How did this happen?

I heard a few shoppers behind me. I don't think they witnessed my transformation. I felt the cold air on my heated skin; my face was as red as a cherry as was my chest. I couldn't believe how large my tits were; they looked huge as they hung without a bra. I didn't think they were bigger but being in the store, wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt, they looked huge. They practically shouted look at me!

I inched back to the tote I'd dropped and held it to my chest, using it to hide my boobs. I tried to act nonchalant but I failed. I looked around the store, at every shopper I passed. Most ignored me; people are so self-centered and that fact helped me. I made it to the front of the store. With my back to the registers I set the carry cart back in its stack and hurried to the car. If anybody noticed my bouncing breasts they didn't say anything. Of course, I was hunched over and holding my hands in front of my face, using my forearms to hide my chest.

I got in my car and saw my face in the rear-view mirror. It was as red as I imagined. My nipples were thrumming, sending sparks of energy down my spine. My breathing came out as short, hitching gasps. I was humiliated and excited and scared. The stone had changed me without me touching it. I didn't know that that was possible. I had set up a trigger, and it had acted upon it. I had not expected that at all; the color on my face proved that.

Oh, but it set up so many new scenarios. I couldn't shake them. I don't think the ideas were entirely mine. I'm sure that the Werestone put the thoughts in my head.

I picked up the rock and made my tits disappear. I made them come back. I did that twice more, making sure I could control the stone as easily as the stone controlled me. Now, sitting in my SUV, they weren't quite as big as I thought. Sure, they were noticeable but they weren't the monstrous breasts I pictured when I was in the store. I let out a little laugh and made them even bigger. I'm not sure what size they were but there would be no hiding those bad boys. I looked at the store and back at my newly formed tits. I didn't want to do it. I don't think I did, but I couldn't seem to help it. I still wanted to get my steak for dinner but now the stone wanted to play and I wanted to play.

I sat there for a few minutes wondering what else the stone could do. I made my nipples a tad larger. Now my huge tits jutted forward like the prow of a ship and my nipples were rock hard points that were just as evident. I was scared of what I was going to do. I imagined being proud of my tits, I imagined wanting people to notice them. The rock felt icy in my hand and the change was made. I wanted people to notice my tits. Sitting in the car I waggled my shoulders, making my tits shake. "Look at them," I said into my car. "They're beautiful." I changed my mind and returned my thoughts to normal. As long as the stone was in my hand I could change not only my body but my thoughts as well. I took my tits away.

Oh, the possibilities.

Just like that the scenario came into my mind. I wanted it to be simple. Complex could come later. I clutched the Wererock in my hand and reset the trigger that as soon as I saw a banana my tits would sprout from my chest. Not my normal ones, as if having tits was now somehow normal, but those new, bigger ones with huge, hard nipples. Adding to that I added another trigger, that as soon as they changed I would be proud of them; I'd want them to be noticed. There' be no hiding this time. Just to be evil, my cock leading my brain, I added a third trigger. As soon as I paid for my groceries I'd lose the pride and gain an elevated sense of shame. Oh, the idea was delicious.