Wererock

Breaking the kiss, we were both smiling. I took off my olive-colored t-shirt with one hand as I fished my bras out of the underwear drawer in my dresser. I saw our reflection in the large screen TV hanging on the wall above me. I was grinning at Cynthia's reflection. I turned my head; I had noticed her breasts were bigger when she'd arrived but we'd been too caught up in each other for me to say anything. Looking at her now as I pulled both bras out of the drawer I wondered if I should? She had been self-conscious about their size and so the Werestone must have been a godsend. Would she be angry if I said anything? Would I?

"You've made your boobs bigger." I took the chance.

I didn't think she could smile any brighter. She leapt at me and kissed my face about a dozen times, her arms locked around my neck. "You noticed!"

I nodded that I did.

She backed away to sit on the bed. I held up both bras and she pointed to the yellow one, "It's more feminine." She watched as I took off my t-shirt and donned the dainty bra, remaining quiet the whole time. When she finally spoke, it was tinged with sadness. "I've been flat chested my whole life," she said, looking at her knees now. "In high school when all the other girls were getting their boobs, I kept hearing nothing but you're a late bloomer. They'll get bigger." She looked up at me, "They never got that big."

I took her hand, "I told you, they were perfect. Because of this." I wiggled one hand under her blouse. She didn't stop me; I'm not sure she wanted to. She was braless. I doubt she had a bra big enough; I guess she had some shopping to do, too. I caressed her boobs, switching from one to the other. I could feel the heat of her skin and I felt her nipples harden beneath my caress. "You don't have to change them for me."

"I didn't. I changed them for me." When she looked up her eyes were damp. "Thank you for noticing. I just wanted to be noticed for once."

I crouched down, pulling my hand from beneath her blouse to take both her hands in mine. "Trust me, when I went to lost-and-found to get my jacket and I saw you sitting behind that round desk in the center of the mall... I noticed. I noticed you. Not your boobs or your body; I noticed you. You're beautiful."

She grabbed my face and pulled me down on top of her. She kissed me with an emotional fierceness that took my breath way. The kiss became something more. It became a revelation of sorts. A way to tell each other how we felt, not with words but with touch. And that kiss spoke volumes.

Cynthia pushed me away and held out her hand. "We'll never get any shopping done if we keep this up."

"Is that a bad thing?" I helped her to her feet.

"Yes. We're two hot ladies that need to be noticed."

Oh shit. I knew what she was thinking. I felt a knot in my chest that I tried to swallow. My thoughts were realized when Cynthia handed me the stone and had me fill the bra with my boobs. She could have done it by holding the stone with me but she wanted me to do it, knowing what was coming. I found that both scarier and sexier. "No," she smiled, "a little bigger. My girl is stacked." She let out a giggle and holding the Wererock I made the adjustment. My tits were spilling out of my bra. While the bra was a C cup, with my changes I needed at least a D if not a bit more. My boobs had a line cutting into them from where the half-cup of the bra was trying to hold the flesh in place. My boobs cascaded outward from there. When I paced the room those puppies bounced. It would be hard to hide them behind my suit jacket and impossible in the t-shirt that Cynthia had me put back on.

I spotted myself in the television's black screen. My boobs were enormous. I turned from side to side, taking in my reflection. They jutted out like an outcropping on the shore in need of a lighthouse to protect incoming ships. They were huge. I rotated from side to side and watched them bounce, watching my t-shirt rise and fall and shimmy. It was exciting and terrifying; we were going shopping. In public. With people. How would I hide those things?

Cynthia gave a chuckled, "Are you done admiring yourself, sweetie?"

"They're huge."

She nodded, "They're noticeable. If you're going to be my girl then we need to get you some appropriate clothes and you need to have the right body for that." She was smiling at my discomfort. She snatched the Wererock off the bed and slipped it into her panties again. I felt a flush of heat from the show but it didn't remotely diminish my nervousness. She kissed me, "Don't worry," another kiss, "I'll be with you the whole time. Trust me, it hurts to be invisible, too."

I understood her comment. I guess it's not just men that's concerned with size. When I'd told her about the Wererock and about my trip to Publix, I had let her know that she could make me proud of my tits. I guess she didn't want to program my fear away; it was part of her plan. I let out a little breath and nodded in understanding. "Okay."

Cynthia helped me don her grandmother's necklace. "There," she said, kissing me again. I don't think I could ever grow tired of those kisses. "Now you have no choice. Does that help?"

It did. Forced was an exciting word. I think I've mentioned that. I nodded again.

"Good. I'll drive." That would keep me with her too. I couldn't flee if she was the one that drove. I wondered how much of this was planned. I guess it didn't matter. Cynthia led me out of my house. My tits bounced with every step. I felt my t-shirt hanging from me; there was a good two inches between my waist and the fabric of my shirt. Normally my shirts hung flat against my body, now they billowed as I moved.

It was still light when we left the house, though the sun had dipped below the trees that lined my back yard. The sky was turning a pretty shade of blue tinged with puffy orange clouds. Sailor's delight indeed. I climbed into Cynthia's car, a sporty little Honda, and buckled up. The strap felt tight against my boobs. Cynthia giggled at my actions. "Stop fidgeting," she looked at me, "unless you're trying to draw more attention to yourself." The look on my face made her giggle.

She drove to the same outdoor mall that we both knew so well. I felt safe inside her car but I was worrying about the stares I'd receive once we were walking the concourses. My mouth felt dry and I felt a tightness in my throat that was more than Cynthia's collar. I was nervous.

Parking the car, Cynthia took my hand. "Own it," she said, trying to calm me. "You don't know these people and there's nothing you can do about it anyway. Just own it. Be who you are." I imagine she'd been told the same thing long ago. It made me think that this was Cynthia showing me a bit of what she'd endured as best she could. How many people had noticed the girl with no chest?

Cynthia stepped from the car. I hesitated, staring at all the parked vehicles. There were a few empty spaces, but from where I sat there weren't that many. How many stares would I receive? How much taunting and laughter would I hear.

"Come on. We're doing this. Unless you want me to throw the stone away."

I didn't believe she'd do that; she needed the rock as much as I did. It had us both enraptured. I opened the car and winced when the door slammed shut. The chirp of the alarm was as loud as a jail cell door locking shut. That double chirp was another indication that I was stuck. Cynthia lopped her arm in mine, "Come on, let's get you some pretty clothes." She nibbled on my left ear, "And some slutty stuff, too."

I swallowed. Hard. "What are you planning?"

She giggled and pulled me into the first concourse. I was gawked at and I saw more people than I counted point and snicker. I was an object of derision. I saw dozens of camera flashes; people taking pictures of the freak. Each flash seemed to burn more color onto my cheeks. I kept my head bowed, not meeting any of the stares I'd received. I heard the laughter though. Cynthia was with me. She kept her arm in mine and whispered, "own it," when I seemed to be faltering. I tried, but I'll admit it was hard. My tits bounced beneath my t-shirt. It was obvious I was a man. With tits. I was wearing jeans and my olive colored t-shirt, my hair was cut short with a day's growth of stubble on my face that did nothing to hide the crimson hue to my cheeks. I heard one little girl whisper to her mother that "that man has a weird chest." That made me blush even harder.

Cynthia was having an easier time. I garnered the stares but she was taking in the looks as well. Her tits bounced as readily as mine but she was a woman and she wanted to finally have people notice her chest. My tits brought the stares; she was rewarded with the lingering, longing glances. The men looking at me seemed to laugh; the ones ogling Cynthia seemed to drool. I can't say I blame them; she looked hot. Her makeup was perfect and her short hair was hanging down, ending just above her sexy neck. I could just see the points her nipples made in her blouse.

Cynthia pulled me into Victoria's Secret. I spotted Suyin helping a customer. Cynthia had heard the story of my first bra fitting and wanted to witness that. Maybe that was why she had me make my boobs bigger. Or maybe she was just a playful, little scamp.

"Oh," Suyin said, coming over at finishing with her customer. "I see you're not quite hiding them now?"

"I... how... I can't."

Cynthia spoke up next, "We think he's got the wrong size. Can you measure him again, please?"

"Of course," Suyin led Cynthia and I to the changing booths. We entered the same one we'd used before. I took of my shirt and bra. I was thankful to be out of the public eye; there had been far too many people staring at me that having to bare my chest to only Cynthia and Suyin helped me feel more comfortable even if Suyin was a stranger and a man shouldn't have tits.

Suyin measured me. No doubt about it. I was a double D girl now. Suyin commented on my rapid growth, even hinting that I should probably go see a doctor. I mumbled that I would while Cynthia stifled a giggle.

Back in the store, surrounded by women of every size, shape and color, I felt like a fraud. I didn't really belong in a lingerie store, even if my chest and pussy stated otherwise. Cynthia lead me to a collection of bras in my new, bigger size, holding them up to my chest to see how they looked with my complexion. Only the red ones seemed to match.

"How do my panties fit?"

I heard a snicker behind me but chose not to face the woman that laughed. "They're a little tight."

"Aww, poor baby." She flashed me a megawatt smile, "I guess we'll just have to get you your own."

I had expected as much. Cynthia was like a girl with a Barbie doll. She held up thongs and sexy boy short panties to my waist. She wrapped a garter belt around me until she found the correct size and then had me carry six of them draped over one arm as we continued to browse so that I couldn't hide them. She selected stockings to go with the garter belts as well as about ten bras, two dozen pairs of panties in various colors, all of them frilly or lacy. I wasn't to be a plain Jane girl when it came to my lingerie it seemed.

Cynthia selected a few outfits for herself, "We'll have matching undies," she said, adding some to the pile that were the same style and color as mine. The bras she selected were smaller than mine as were the panties, but the styles were the same. We left the store with three big, neon pink bags. I walked out of the store with a new splash of color on my face.

Cynthia handed me the keys to her car. "Take the bags to the car and then come find me." She gave me a kiss and sent me on my way. I trembled in humiliation as I walked through the mall, my tits bouncing with each step and those three big bags shining as bright as a beacon. I had been embarrassed before, walking arm in arm with Cynthia but that shame was heightened walking alone.

I made my way to the car as slowly as I could. I had started out by moving quickly, but the faster I moved the more I bounced and the more I bounced the more I blushed as even more eyes were drawn towards me and my neon bags. I made it to the car with the speed of a glacier and dreaded the trip back to Cynthia's side. She was waiting for me, somewhere. I didn't know what store she was in, or even if she was in a store. How long would it take me to find her and how many mocking stares would I receive as I searched. My knees felt week as I leaned against Cynthia's Honda, debating if I could even make the trip.

I felt the necklace around my neck. It was a collar even if neither Cynthia or I had said anything about it. I knew what that meant even if it was something I'd never really pondered in my life prior to the Wererock. But that rock had powers and maybe it wasn't changing Cynthia and I. What if it didn't bring change but only revealed what was already there?

I inched back into the mall concourse. The lights were on now, the sun having set while we were shopping in Victoria's Secret. The lights, while bright, cast shadows across the concrete walkway and those shadows helped to conceal me from a distance. Those up close still saw the caricature of a man with huge tits but it felt like I was receiving less distasteful stares now that the sun had set. Or, maybe, I was just becoming acclimated to the laughter.

Leaving Victoria's Secret, I had turned left towards the car while Cynthia had gone right. I started going that way, stopping to peer into all the stores along the way. I didn't see her in the busy hallway and I didn't spot her in the first two stores I entered. Leaving Anne Taylor, I saw her step into another Women's store. This one had a trio of mannequins in their window wearing short skirts and revealing tops that left a lot of cleavage exposed. After our conversation before we left for the mall, I knew she was shopping for me. Seeing her put a fire in my step. I darted into the store and walked up behind her. "Found you," I said.

Cynthia giggled before giving me a kiss. "You found me."

"I'm glad I did," I said, both of us knowing I meant more than catching up with her following my trip to her car.

Cynthia led me to the back of the store and sealed me inside a dressing room. "Get out of those icky clothes. We have to get you something fun. Something flirty."

If I thought I looked out of place as a man with tits, strutting through the mall, how silly would I look in short dress or a tiny, plaid school-girl skirt? I thought of snaking my hand into Cynthia's panties to give myself a more feminine look but this was her show and she was obviously having fun. I hadn't seen her smile fade since before we left for the mall. I wasn't about to rob Cynthia of her fun. I took off my sneakers, snipped out of my t-shirt and jeans, and stood there in the dressing room wearing a bright yellow bra that was too small and Cynthia's red panties that were far too tight. I suddenly wished for my new bra and panties, in awe of that foreign thought.

Cynthia entered the changing room carrying an armful of clothes. "Don't worry about the fit," she said, "we can always adjust you if need be." She rubbed my boobs through my bra. "Well, not all of you." She let out another giggle and gave me a kiss on the nose.

Cynthia sat on the little booth littered with tiny needles and torn off tags. She handed me the first outfit. "All girls need a little black dress," she said with certainty.

The dress lived up to its name. It was little and black. I stepped into it and then shimmied it higher, wagging my hips as I pulled it over Cynthia's panties and my breasts. The dress was short; my fingers touched my hairy thighs with the straps resting on my shoulders. My tits pushed outward, revealing a huge expanse of cleavage. It was tight at the waist and even tighter in the chest. I admired myself in the mirror as I posed as Cynthia directed. "That looks good on you," she said. "We'll have to do something about that hair. I guess we'll have to stop and get you waxed."

"Um, no thanks." That didn't sound pleasant.

She flashed me a devilish smile, "I wasn't asking a question, silly." We both knew the stone could do it, but that wasn't what Cynthia wanted.

I tried on short skirts and even shorter ones. I tried on tight blouses and blouses that tied in place just below my ample breasts. Cynthia commented on most of them and went back to exchange two separate outfits for ones that were just a little bit tighter. Every outfit she chose was either sexy or slutty or both. Of course, that was what this store sold. We left the store with two more bags of clothes.

I had felt comfortable when hiding inside the dressing room. Now, out in the concourse, I once again felt far too many eyes upon me and heard far too many snickers and giggles. I wanted to run; I wanted to escape the stares and the taunts and the countless camera flashes. I felt exposed and scared. Cynthia squeezed my arm and that gave me strength but I still found myself gazing at my feet more than the faces of those who were staring back.

I followed Cynthia from one store to the next. In some she would have me try on clothes in others she would hold dresses up to my body in full view of other shoppers. Once she asked a passing college student what she thought of a dress she was holding against my chest. The dress was short and silver and sparkly.

"It'll look good on her," the girl replied, laughing at the flush on my cheeks. "Sorry, him."

We bought the silver dress.

Cynthia picked out jeans and t-shirts from the women's department from Macy's, making sure I tried them on. The pants were tight and looking at my crotch while wearing them left no doubt that I wasn't packing a cock inside those jeans. She picked out casual clothes and sexy clothes; clothes suitable for the office and clothes suitable only for the bedroom floor. Cynthia picked out skirts and dresses; she selected camisoles and nightgowns for me to sleep in. By the end of the day I'd spent well over two thousand dollars and had half a closet full of new clothes from slutty to demure and everywhere in between.

"That's a good start," Cynthia declared as we returned another load of bags to the car. "Let's get dinner and then we'll have some real fun."

"Oh?" My voice rose, thinking of Cynthia in my bed.

"You need heels!"

"Oh." My voice fell.

Cynthia only laughed.

We had dinner at Chili's. We sat side by side on the same side of the booth; I took comfort in her touch. Somehow, with Cynthia beside me, the laughter didn't sting quite as bad. Cynthia told me she was proud of how well I was holding up. She even praised me for how well I took the subdued laughter of our waitress when she took our order.

"It was hard at first," I admitted. "All those people pointing and laughing. I heard all sorts of derogatory comments."

"I heard them, too."

"Yeah, but after a while it got easier. I think because you were with me. Or maybe I was just going numb to it."

During our meal, I would drop my hand and rub Cynthia's thigh and other, warmer places. She would part her legs and give me access. Once I was certain I felt the hard bite of the Wererock. Other times she would return the favor, sliding her fingers across my crotch. Her touch was electric and by the end of our meal, my panties were damp. I'm pretty sure hers were, too.

We left Chili's and walked across the parking lot and back into the mall. There was a lot fewer shoppers now and for that I was thankful. Cynthia pulled me into a high-end shoe store, brightly lit and filled with all sorts of heels, sandals, and flats. I felt the color return to my cheeks when an employee, an elderly woman, probably close to sixty, approached us and made some snide comment about perverts and how they "should get their jolly's elsewhere."