Chapter 01 -- Work and Leisure

You still have a hard time believing it, but it’s true.

You own a notebook that changes the size of breasts.

You try to go about your day trying to do something normal, if only to validate the existence of the notebook. But no matter what you do, it keeps creeping back into your thoughts.

Strangely enough, you feel validated by it. Like you know all the ins and outs of it. A combination of experimentation, creative thought and some rules in the notebook itself leads you to have a basic understanding about the notebook. You have enough sense to not write your thoughts down— out of fear someone might discover it— but you have a mental list in your head.

These ten things are true, as far as you know:

Only men can use the notebook and only one male can have ‘ownership’ of the notebook.

You can’t write your own name in it, and presumably, men’s names cannot be written in it.

When you write a woman’s name, the notebook will report her current breast size and what ‘caused’ that size.

When you write a breast size and a ‘cause’ after a girl’s name will make the new size real.

When you write a story with a woman’s name in it, will make the story come true.

Individuals affected by your actions are unaware of past events being changed, unless explicitly told.

You can trigger a future event or a condition that causes breast growth— no matter how improbable.

When a woman touches the notebook, she retains some memories of its effects.

If you lose control of the notebook to another male, you will lose all knowledge of the notebook’s abilities and be unaware any changes made by the notebook.

Whoever made this book really likes boobs.

Your phone rings. It’s Terry. You pick it up without thinking.

“Hey."

"Hey." He sounds annoyed. "Look. I wasn't gonna bother you about this, but I'll be blunt. I need you to be my wingman."

"Oh, ho, found a hot date with a not so cute friend?"

"Nah man. They're both cute. I'm just going for the hot one with a nice rack."

Your thoughts drift immediately to the notebook, and you remember you haven’t told Terry about it. “Well, I guess I could help.”

“Damn right you can help. You owe me.”

“Fair enough,” you say. Great place to try out the notebook anyway.

"So the girl I'm trying for... Diane, you know her right?”

You do. She’s a sorority girl. Way out of Terry’s league and probably way out of yours. “Yeah.”

“She’s got a friend. She’s a bit of a stick in the mud… so I told her…”

“I take the sloppy seconds while you take a pass at Diane. Got it.”

Terry laughs. “Good.”

“Yeah, yeah…” you say without thinking. “There’s free beer, right?”

“You know it.”

Your gaze settles on the notebook. You’d probably have plenty of chances to try out your new toy and Terry’s usually off point on ‘dates’ anyway. Here’s hoping he doesn’t end up drunk, crying and puking in the toilet.

But hey… what are friends for?

“Fine,” you say. “What’s this friend’s name?”

“Sadie. She’s on the track team.”

You don’t recognize the name and you get a little nightmare of a musclebound brute ready to drag you off like a cavewoman. You try and lighten the atmosphere. “Lemme guess. Weightlifting?”

“Ha. Ha. That’s not even a track event, bro. She runs… I think. You like legs right?”

You chuckle. “More of a boob man. But man, it’s for you so I’ll help out. Who knows she might be cool.”

“Thanks. I knew I could count on you. Pick you up in forty minutes?”

“Sure.”

Terry cuts the line. Knowing him he’ll be here in thirty-five. Nothing motivates him like a booty call. Nothing.

From what you can remember, Diane is a sorority girl, drop dead gorgeous. You know the type, the ‘ideal’ kind of pretty you’d see on T.V. Sadie, on the other hand could look like anything… and you might really be taking one for the team.

You scoop up the notebook and flip through it, checking the pages idly. Not that it really matters if ‘Sadie’ is unimpressive. All it takes is a pen stroke.

The problem you see is simple. Carrying around a notebook is a little suspicious.