No.

You tap the notebook with a pen. "Try writing in it."

Tom glances up at you and takes it. Without giving it a second thought Tom writes 'Hi, my name is Tom.' It vanishes shortly after he finishes writing.

The result irritates you a bit.

"Vanishing ink?" he says checking the pen.

"It's not the pen. It's the notebook. Do you have one with you?"

Tom nods, sets aside your pen and digs through his bag. He pulls out a glitter pen. You haven't owned one since middle school.

It brings a smile to your face. "Really?"

"Oh, stuff it. It's lucky." Tom stoops over and writes the same thing again. The ink is a pale peach speckled with white glitter. It hurts your eyes just looking at it. But sure enough, when he finishes writing, it vanishes. He stares at the tip, mystified, you're considerably less impressed.

"Told you so," you say.

He looks up at you confused. "So it does that with everything you write?"

"Everything I write, yeah."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a notebook? What good is it if you can't write in it? This is what you wanted to show me right? Maybe a ghost cursed it."

"...a ghost?" You get an idea. You know Tom buys into occult stuff pretty easily. "That reminds me of a rumor I heard recently. Ever hear of Jamie the flat?"

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Not everyone can be Dolly Parton, lady."

"Not me," you say, feigning offense. "I mean, it's a girl that committed suicide in this room."

"T-this room?"

You nod. Of course, you're full of shit. It just strikes you as a perfect opportunity to pull a fast one on Tom. "She was a student at the school in the fifties, you know around the time those pointy bras got popular. Needless to say, she wasn't very shapely. She got dumped by a guy who ran off with a Marilyn Monroe look alike, and committed suicide."

"Wow, and it was in this room?"

You nod. Thankfully you have lots of practice with Tina. The two of you go back and forth trying to scare the crap out of each other and this particular tale just needed a little editing. "I think this is her notebook."

Tom squealed in terror. "Ah! And I tried to write in it?"

"Don't worry. I have a plan. Try writing my... her... name. Watch what happens."

Tom looks at you with deadly seriousness, swallows and stoops closer. "Uh... with what pen?"

You roll your eyes. "The black one."

He writes Jamie in the notebook. Strangely enough, it fades away.

_What? Why? _You bite your thumb.

"Was something else supposed to happen?" Tom says.

"Wait... try thinking about me when you write in it. Maybe it's like a seance... you need to use me like a vessel."

"Good idea," Tom says. He writes your name again looking over at you this time and not only does the name stay it flashes red with more letters beside it: B Natural.

Your cheeks flush red. That's your breast size.

"Whoa! Spooky!"

You stare down at it in a trance, trying to wrap your head around it. The notebook can tell what size you are?

"So..." Tom says gnawing on the pen's back. ".. this Jamie, the ghost girl I mean... was tormented cause her boobs were small, right?"

You nod.

"Well, maybe we just need to correct that." Tom goes in to write and you hardly realize it, until he already starts. He writes an L on the page.

"Whoa! Hold on!" You try and stop him, but the B fades to black and the L flushes red. You hold his hand helplessly, all you managed to do is pull the tail of the letter out a bit. Then you realize it wasn't supposed to be an L at all, but a C. You just messed it up.

You hear a gurgling noise from somewhere, but you can't really tell from where. Your center of balance shifts and your breasts slowly fill outward, shaking gently like someone was felling you with a hose.

The strangest part about it? It feels completely normal. You just stare down at yourself in a confused trance and your shirt and the bra underneath seems to grow with it. You can see your deepening cleavage from the top of your shirt, but the bra fits you so well, like you've always had it.

Tom falls back onto the floor pointing at you in shock. "Jamie! Your... your boobs!"

You instinctively cup them, pressing them together, realizing they've stopped. "Yeah. They've grown."

It doesn't sound weird until a few seconds after you say it. Your eyes widen and you gape down at them. "Holy shit! I'm huge!"

You expect to feel excitement, like a repressed teenage you that suffered as the boob fairy passed you by, but... when you reach for the memories you just come up with faint memories of discomfort in gym class and guys snapping your bra strap.

If anything, you remember wishing said boob fairy had just left you alone.

The notebook didn't just give you big boobs. It made it so you've always had them!

You study Tom's expression, his face tells a very different story. Somehow, he saw the whole thing. From his perspective, you just grew dramatically. You're sure of this because despite your memories assuring you that you've had massive tits since puberty, you remember the rules of the notebook. If you strain hard enough you can remember-- almost feel-- your old B-cups.

"You... you don't look very surprised by all this," Tom says.

"It's weird, I know, but it feels natural. See for yourself."

Tom set aside the pen and approaches you, grasping your tender tit flesh with his long fingers. It feels nice, even if his heart-- or his dick rather-- isn't into it. Curiosity took hold of him, even if seeing you like this doesn't arouse him... hell... tits like that might be able to convince him back to the dark side. You smile at that.

"Wow..." he says, glancing up at you. "You're right. They just... grew."

"It says natural in the notebook, right? So they're natural. Are you sure you didn't do that on purpose?"

He snatched his hands away."No way!"

"I'm just joking," you say.

"Should I try putting you back to normal?"

You open your mouth to respond. Your first instinct is to say 'yes' but you haven't confirmed something-- something important. You want to know if others notice.