He found himself sneaking through the lingerie section, surrounded by bras and panties. A cruel reminder of the fate awaiting him, if he couldn't find a cure... As he pressed forward, he felt his wrist catch on something, and turned his head abruptly. Thankfully, it wasn't a person. Just a bra. A brief smile flickered on his lips. No one had seen him.
It was certainly a helluva bra though. Red, lacy, and wired to hell and back. The label read KK cups? Wow, what kind of woman would have tits like that?
The amulet decided that James should. Looking down in abject horror, he saw his tracksuit distend, the zip forced down as his t-shirt split, monstrous breasts protruding obscenely from his narrow frame. What the fuck?! He tried to zip it back up, to cover them a bit more, but couldn't hide the deep valley of milky cleavage. He couldn't pass unnoticed now! Everyone'd be staring at his enormous fucking milkers!
Hurrying, grimacing as his tits wobbled and bounced, he rushed towards the booth, no longer caring if he drew attention in his haste.