Self Help
This is a 'live action' remake of a thread I posted here on Bluesky, enjoy!
Shelly was spending her Saturday as she did every Saturday, plunging the depths of the local bookstores for new treasures to read. She had just heard of a new shop opening called ‘Forbidden Reads’ and, curiosity piqued, made it her first stop. The outside was quaint if a little unremarkable. Inside there was no front counter, no cashier in sight, just endless rows of forgotten knowledge.
Most books were bound in leather, titles written in faded gold. Oddly, there was an overwhelming number of self help books, though none from any author she recognized. It was a sea of book spines, all browns and blacks, until something bright snatched her attention.
Nestled between two heavy encyclopedias was a slender book with a neon pink spine. Curious, she slid it free, frowning at the title stamped in cursive silver lettering. 'How to be a Bitch'.
“Not exactly something to aspire to…” Shelly muttered, rolling her eyes. Still, her fingers flipped it open, expecting hollow motivational quotes or trashy influencer advice. Instead, the pages were blank.
Then a chill swept through the air, her fingers tingling as a luminous, swirling pink spirit shot out from the pages. It hovered before her with a sultry, knowing grin, its form shifting with the lazy grace of smoke. Shelly stumbled back, her heart hammering.
“What the...?!” She began but the spirit didn’t hesitate. With a predatory speed, it darted forward, phasing straight through her chest. Shelly gasped, her back arching, fingers clawing at her shirt trying to catch the pink wisps to no avail. Hot electricity surged through her veins. Her legs trembled, eyes fluttering closed before they snapped back open, now glowing a fierce, pulsating pink.
She wanted to run, she wanted to drop the book, she wanted to even just move her head but everything seemed like an impossible task. Her body wasn't responding to her mind, and yet a soft pulsating pleasure was rising slowly in her body, making her less interested in trying to escape by the second.
A silky voice echoed in her mind, smug and dripping with condescension. “No, no… this simply won’t do. Boring hair, zero curves, tragically basic.”
“W-who… who are you?” Shelly managed to groan out of her mouth.
“Think of me as your fairy godmother. Except I don’t turn pumpkins into carriages. I turn mousy little nobodies into absolute queens. Defiant baddies who get whatever they want. You’re welcome.” The voice crooned.
“I… I don’t wanna be some… bitch…” Shelly whispered, her body shuddering with unwanted pleasure as warmth pooled in her belly.
“Oh honey, you will. Trust me. You’ll love every second. Let’s start with your hair… poor thing’s been suffering in that drab brown shade.”
Her scalp tingled. Shelly gasped, feeling her roots burn with sensation as her dull locks brightened, cascading into thick, voluminous waves of platinum blonde. Her eyes catching sight of the now golden strands in front of her.
“Ngh… n-no, this… stop…” Shelly whimpered half heartedly but already she was imagining herself, strutting down the street with bouncing, shiny blonde hair, heads turning, jealous stares burning into her flawless skin. She bit her lip, a flush rising to her cheeks. God… it’d feel so good… all that attention…
The voice only giggled. “No point fighting it, sugar. Every second I’m in you, your body’s learning how good it feels to be better. We’re rewiring you with every change. Soon you'll be begging me for more.”
Her lips quivered and parted with a sinful moan as the image in her mind grew clearer, her commanding an entire room, giggling with smug satisfaction as boys stumbled over themselves to serve her. “Fuck… why does this feel so… hot…?”
“Because you are. Or you will be. I’m making sure you crave every drop of it. Good girls waste their Saturday's in dusty old book stores but bad bitches spend their Saturday's getting fucked by big cocked bosses. Deep down you know which one you would prefer to me and you’re going to be legendary.”
Shelly groaned aloud, imagining herself leaning over counters, batting her lashes, whispering dirty little lies to get whatever she wanted.
Her modest hoodie melted away like mist, replaced by a tight, high cut pink mini dress, hugging every new curve with sinful precision. Her sensible flats shifted, heels clicking against the wooden floor as her legs elongated, calves tightening into seductive definition.
“Oh… oh fuck yesss… I feel so good… I… no… I shouldn’t… I-” Shelly’s protests became weaker, her breathy moans louder.
“Listen to yourself, babe. You’re already halfway gone. Just give in.” The spirit purred.
Shelly’s tits pushed out, nipples tightening under the clinging fabric as her breasts inflated into perky, round perfection. Her lips prickled, swelling into a glossy, perfect pout. Her thighs thickened, waist pinching in, hips widening.
Every change sent aftershocks of bliss through her core, her thighs clenching as her inner walls tightened with raw, untapped lust as another image slammed into her mind. She saw herself smirking in the mirror, snapping selfies, her DMs overflowing with jealous praise, men begging to taste her, women hating her because they could never be her.
Her moan turned needy, desperate. “Oh my god… I… I could… I could own them… I could be… worshipped… But no, I can't! Please… s-stop… I… I don’t… I-”
The spirit’s voice dropped low, dripping with malicious glee. “You do. You’ve always wanted to be the one they stare at, the one they fear, the one they can’t stop craving. You just needed me to break the chains you called ‘morals’. Go ahead… say it…”
Shelly’s lips trembled, but her body betrayed her. Her pussy throbbed with wanton and wicked desire to be the girl in her mind, to be the bitch she secretly always wanted to be.
“I… I… I love this… make me hotter… make me cruel… make me a goddess that pathetic girls fear and desperate boys worship!” Shelly said with a passionate groan.
Her transformation reached its peak as every inch of her tingled and refined that last one percent. The pink glow burst from her eyes, swirling back into the book, leaving her standing in stunned, breathless silence. And then the first wicked smirk curled on her perfect lips.
Shelly was gone. In her place stood a new, better version. Michelle.
She grabbed her phone, flipping the camera. Her sultry eyes, perfect pout, blonde locks, and scandalous figure filled the screen. She arched an eyebrow, her smirk widening.
“Damn Michelle, you’re fucking perfect.” She said with a wicked grin.
Her fingers danced across the screen, snapping selfies, switching angles, capturing every inch of her new self. Her Instagram was soon flooded with photos captioned with biting aphorisms and thirst trap poses.
“Be thankful losers, a new era is beginning. The reign of Queen Michelle has just started and she’s the girl you wish your girlfriend was.”
Within minutes, her notifications exploded.
“Holy shit where’d you come from?!” “Queen behavior!” “Baddest bitch I’ve ever seen!” “DM me gorgeous 🔥”
She strutted to the exit, hips swaying hypnotically, but not before sliding the cursed pink book back into its slot on the shelf. Her long, manicured fingers traced the spine lovingly.
“Go on, make another bitch. I’ve got parties to crash and boys to break.” She whispered.
The door shut behind her, heels clicking, laughter echoing down the street, her reign had only just begun.