By Guest Writer: Mike
Part 1 – Monday
I hadn’t heard my alarm clock for a week and when I did that Monday morning I groaned; the week off had been nice. My company the night before nicer still. I opened my eyes as my hands dropped to my crotch. I felt the foreign folds, running my fingers through the cleft where my cock used to be. It felt weird, to be sure, but strangely erotic too. It was a secret that Cynthia and I shared.
I went through my morning routine finding going to the bathroom strangely alien. The sounds and the feeling and the force had been replaced with something softer and more feminine. After showering I donned Cynthia’s tiny red panties. They were snug, the faint elastic barely stretching over my larger hips. If we were going to keep doing this, I would need panties of my own. That thought made me pause; I’d never once thought of owning my own panties and now I thought I needed to buy some.
I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my flat crotch. My mind hadn’t been changed and I was looking at a pussy in panties. I felt my heart race and a rush of excitement. I was turning myself on! It was one of the strangest sensations I’d felt since I’d found the Wererock.
I went to work, trying to make the day as normal as possible but it wasn’t a normal day. Normally I wasn’t wearing a necklace that could just as easily be called a collar. I was sporting a perfectly pretty pussy and each movement I made, from climbing in and out of the car to walking down the carpeted hallway to my office, made me aware of the difference. Normally things were jutting out there, shifting about and just being noticeable. Now I was flat and smooth and when I walked there was this conspicuous absence. It wasn’t bad, just different.
I sat at my desk, looking over some code my staff had written the week before when my phone beeped. How’s my girl? I responded that I was doing fine. Could you imagine what would happen if I lost the Wererock? You’d be my girl forever. She was toying with me and I felt myself responding in a way I’d not really felt before. My panties became damp. It was both uncomfortable and exciting. I rubbed my thighs together, just to compress the flesh of my pussy. I snuck a hand into my slacks and ran a finger along the wet flesh. My stomach lurched upward at my teasing touch. I let out a little moan. You’re killing me, I typed to Cynthia.
I told her what I was doing. When she responded, I could almost hear her laugh. Good to hear. That give me another idea. Do you know how many of those I’ve had?
The thing is - I did know. I’ve had countless ideas myself and now that Cynthia had the stone and I was trapped with a copy of her pussy between my legs I found myself imaging even more scenarios. Some of them were downright terrifying. What if she really did lose the stone? When I had tested the Wererock, I have given myself a lovely pair of breasts but a surgeon could remove them if it came down to it. How would I explain a functioning pussy and what kind of surgery could restore what had magically been taken away? I responded to her last question saying that I did know, that I’d had them, too.
Don’t touch yourself, she texted. Oh, yes, this is going to be fun. Shit. I’ve got to go.
I texted a goodbye and followed that with a smiley face. Cynthia didn’t respond. I guess she really did get interrupted. I felt a little saddened by that. Oh, I was smitten by her, but I think my feelings had somehow been elevated by our sharing the Wererock. I still didn’t understand why I had shared my stone so readily. Why hadn’t I kept it my secret? I was thinking of that question when I should have been thinking about work. But I was the boss and sometimes the boss plays hooky.
“Adam?” Carley was knocking on my office door. I looked up as she waddled into my office, holding her stomach in place. “Got a second?”
I nodded, “Sure,” I pointed to one of the two leather chairs that sat in front of my desk. “What do you need?”
She looked at her feet as she let out a sad little sigh, “I’m giving my one month notice. Brian got promoted at work a few weeks ago, and we’ve run the numbers. With the extra he’ll make and the cost of child care, well, it just makes sense.” She was apologetic but I understood. I set myself a reminder to have payroll cut her a five-thousand-dollar bonus before she left. Now I needed a programmer and a secretary. I really hoped I could talk Cynthia into taking our hiring test.
Cynthia called me after lunch, “How’s it going?”
“Oh, you know how it is,” I said, being vague.
Cynthia wasn’t having any of that. “I was thinking of your cock. You have a nice one. I’d love to play with it. Wrap my hands around it. Suck it into my mouth.” She was taunting me and we both loved it. At that moment, I didn’t have a cock at all. She had taken it away.
“Why don’t you come over. I’m sure we can work something out.” I heard her let out a distracted little moan. Was she doing what she had told me not to do? I tried to picture her touching herself and found that entirely easy to do. My knees shifted together and my feet lifted off the floor. I wanted to touch myself but she’d asked me not to. She was building towards something so I would let her play.
She moaned, gasped and panted into the phone and then I heard her voice. “Thank you, Adam. That was fun.” We spoke for a few more minutes before hanging up the phone.
I finished my day after not getting anything done. I had been far too distracted and as soon as Cynthia asked me not to touch myself, all I wanted to do was soothe that rising need I felt in my pretty pussy. It was in my head; we want what we can’t have, and that denied want had proven quite distracting. Her teasing phone call hadn’t helped, but somehow I think that was the point. I raced home and took a cold shower. It didn’t help either.
I got dressed in Cynthia’s panties that were more mine now and a simple pair of jeans and another t-shirt. I was a simple jean and t-shirt kind of guy. Cynthia arrived about twenty minutes after I got out of the shower. She kissed me as soon as I opened the door. Afterwards she was all smiles, enjoying the sight of the necklace encircling my throat. She put her hands inside my panties, taking liberties that were hers to take. “How are you doing, sexy man? Or is that lady?”
“Well you did call me your girl.” I thought about it, “Twice.”
In response, she kissed me again. Cynthia took my hand and led me into the bedroom. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
I told her about my day and how distracting it had been. She took great delight in my story. When I admitted to her how much I wanted to masturbate, her face lit up like a child getting a new puppy. Her whole lovely face seemed to take on this perpetual grin and her blue eyes seemed to shine. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with that.”
“Don’t I get a say?” I said, all smiles.
“No.” She stuck out her tongue.
At the time, I didn’t understand what was happening. Why had I let her take the stone when I should have been fiercely possessive of it; why had I let her lock that silver necklace around my neck, adding insurance to my helplessness? I could have stopped things. Maybe. Now I know. It was the Wererock. It let us make changes to ourselves. It showed us a fraction of its power. Oh, but the stone had its own agenda. I know that sounds weird. It’s just a rock, an inanimate thing. But was it? Now, I’m not so sure. Still, I went along with it and look where it led me.
Cynthia pushed me down on the bed. She straddled my thighs, smiling and giddy. Her hands came up and took off her grandmother’s necklace. I watched as she set the thin metal on my nightstand. I hadn’t realized how heavy the necklace was. Or maybe it was gravitas that made it feel so solid. “Only I can take that off you, right?”
What did it matter. I was smitten, remember? “Right.”
Cynthia had arrived wearing a simple black skirt that came down to her knees, a white blouse that had a small blue butterfly embroidered on the left shoulder, and when she lifted her skirt to straddle me, I saw the sexy tabs to the garter belt holding up her sexy, black stockings. Sitting atop me, she reached into the panties I couldn’t see, and held up the stone. “Take my hand.”
I took her hand, feeling the cold rock sitting there resting against both our palms. “Perfect,” she giggled.
“What did you do?”
She just smiled. It was devilish and full of mischief. She kissed my nose and stood up. “Put your bra on,” she commanded in a voice that was more playful than anything else. “We’re going shopping.” She helped me to my feet, pulling me up from the bed. Standing next to her, I grabbed her; I could be aggressive too. I cupped her ass, my hands wiggling under her skirt. She didn’t stop me as I pulled her to me. I kissed her, my tongue darting into her mouth as hers reciprocated into mine. I felt a surge of excitement in my pussy, a rising heat that made me shift my legs closer together. Cynthia moaned into my mouth.
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?”
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.