By Guest Writer: Mike
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.
I put the stone in the cup holder and climbed from the car. I got halfway to the store when I stopped and turned around. I couldn’t do it. Just imagining the humiliation was enough to keep me from entering the store. I knew what was coming and I couldn’t make myself do it. Self-preservation took over. I felt frustrated as I sat in the car. I wanted to play out my scenario but the reality of it was too much for me to take, forcing me to return to my traveling sanctuary. I started the car, about to give up.
The stone spoke to me or maybe it was my own silly brain. Either way another idea popped into my head. I clutched the stone and with the old scenario still set to activate on the sight of bananas I willed the memory of the scenario to disappear. I wasn’t sure it would work, but if it did. Just to be safe I added a final trigger; my full memory would be restored upon returning to my car. This was a huge test.
I looked at the stone in the cup holder. “Not this time, buddy,” I said, climbing from the car. I had thought it would be fun to grow some tits. Maybe later, but not in a store by the house that I’ve been in hundreds of times before. I recognized a lot of the employees, there would be no doubt that a few would recognize me as well.
I entered the store, feeling a bit mad at myself for not finishing my first shopping trip, but sometimes wisdom takes over. It was too late to worry about it anyway. Entering the store, I grabbed one of the green carry-all carts, the same kind I had used to hide my chest not ten minutes earlier. I smiled at it and how I had clutched it as a shield. It had holes in it; it couldn’t hide everything. The thought made me smile.
I walked past the deli and reached the produce area in the far back corner. There, among the fruits and vegetables I saw a banana. It made me smile, remembering what I had just done. Immediately upon seeing the yellow fruit my tits sprouted, jutting enormously from my chest. I cherished the weight of them; my tits are amazing. I straightened my spine, causing my taut shirt to become even tighter. My nipples pushed out even more. I dropped my arms, grasping the carry-all with one hand. I didn’t want anything to block the view of my massive tits.
I saw people looking at me. Some were gasping, others were laughing. One woman pushing a cart with a baby in the little front section raced away from me like she’d smelled a fart. That woman was obviously jealous!
I walked through the store, moving up and down every aisle. I had only come for a few things and while I didn’t need cat food or dog food, there were people in the aisle and they needed to see how well I overfilled my shirt. People laughed at me, others openly mocked me, and through it all I smiled. I was giving the people a show and they were enjoying it! It felt good.
At the back of the store I picked out a nice sirloin for dinner. A man behind the partition, actively slicing some steaks to put out on the shelves gasped at me, pointed and laughed. I watched and he almost cut himself he was laughing so hard. It felt good to bring that much pleasure to another person. I smiled at him, satisfied with myself.
With all the aisles visited the idea that new people may have come in made me walk up and down all the aisles one more time. My tits were amazing and I wanted people to know it! After two full trips through the store it dawned on me that there were more people at the mall. If they loved my tits this much in Publix, how much better would it be at the mall? The idea had me racing for the checkout line.
There was only one woman in front of me and she gave me a disgusted look and muttered, “Freak.” She was obviously jealous.
The young teenaged girl, barely out of school if she was out at all, began ringing up my few items. The steak, an onion, even a few bananas all went through the checkout line. She told me my total, staring at me the whole time. She couldn’t take her eyes off me. Her eyes went from my face to my chest and back to my face again. She seemed confused. You guessed it, she was jealous, too.
I slid my card and activated the trigger. I was standing at the register with tits that were far too big pushing at my t-shirt. My nipples were hard nubs that seemed to be begging for attention. My face turned crimson as my hands flew to my chest, trying to hide what was far too big to contain. My hands started shaking and I swear I felt tears forming in my eyes. I have never felt such humiliation. The laughter around me wasn’t because I was making people happy. They were laughing at me - the man with huge tits. I rushed from the store, my head low, leaving my purchase behind.
The little girl who rang up my order called after me, “Miss, you forget your groceries.” The mocking laughter around me escalated as did the color on my face.
I stopped, indecision pulling me in multiple directions. I wanted to flee the store and I needed my groceries to do it or they’d chase me down. I raced back to the register, grabbed my bag, uttered a polite something and ran out of the store, holding the light brown plastic bag to my chest. It didn’t cover enough and as I ran my monstrous tits bounced, moving around, keeping my mind on them. Around me there was more laughter and one old man just stood there shaking his head as if to say, “kids.”
I ran to the car, clutching my tits, trying not to cry. I was trembling, replaying the laughter in my mind. I could hear each taunt, each laugh, each mocking comment. All of them seared into my brain. I felt like sobbing.
I made it to the car and clutched the Wererock. The icy tough of the stone made me feeling better and taking my tits away made me feel better still. The memory of what I’d programmed snapped into my brain and with it the reality that I’d set that in motion took my breath away. I glanced at the rock with a newfound sense of wonder; the power of that stone was amazing.
I drove home, reliving my shame. It had been overwhelming and remembering that indecision where I was torn between fleeing the story and grabbing my groceries, I felt an increasing flush to my cheeks. My shame had been nearly overwhelming. Next time I’d make it a bigger turn on, less crippling. That there would be a next time was a forgone conclusion.
I put my groceries away and sat on the couch, clutching the stone. It held more power than I knew. I spent a few hours experimenting. I set a trigger that I read the word Heinz then my cock would disappear to be replaced by a pretty vagina. Then, I followed that up by taking the memory of setting the trigger away. That night, while making dinner, I opened the refrigerator. There, on the shelf to my right, was a bottle of ketchup. Heinz of course. I saw the ketchup, read the word and felt the change. Immediately I remembered what I had set in motion. I returned to the stone and set things back to normal.
Amazing. And the possibilities. I didn’t have to be clutching the stone to make a change; I only had to be holding it when I set up a change. The programming took hold, regardless of where the stone was. Once the change was made, I could only change back if I had the stone. Unless, the thought came to me. I set up a change that if I read the word “Heinz” I’d gain my massive, overly sensitive tits and I made it that when the trigger was set, I’d totally forget that the stone even existed. Then, I set a program that when I read the word “news”, my body would revert to normal as would my memories. If that worked, oh the possibilities. I chose news since I read the news every morning. I knew that I’d read that word in time.
Ten minutes later I had massive tits. I cooked dinner with them, showered with them, not thinking anything odd was out of place. I had tits; I just did. That night, lying in bed, I was flipping through the channels and happened upon the news. Just like that the tits were gone and the memories returned. I jumped out of the bed and grabbed the stone where it had been sitting all evening. I had walked past it dozens of time and somehow never even noticed it.
Oh, I know how. I had programmed myself to forget the stone and the Wererock had obliged.
I was giddy with power and trembling with a needy excitement that back to back ejaculations barely eased.
I went to bed, dreaming of the Werestone and the power it possessed.