Story by All These Roadworks (2021).

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“The Four Keys To Happiness” was a best-seller. It taught women to find the four words that would best propel themselves to a better lifestyle, and then use a simple self-hypnosis trick to focus on those four words and associate them irrevocably with the feeling of being happy.

 

Shannon had bought the book after a rough break-up with an abusive ex. After reading the first half, she had identified the words “relaxed”, “smart”, “confident” and “adventurous” as her keys to happiness. She typed them into her phone, organising it to display them in front of her vision, and then she settled into the self-hypnosis the book had taught her while she zoned out and stared at the words.

 

Unfortunately for Shannon, just after she passed over the trance horizon, her ex sent through an angry text. It contained only four words: “Stupid big-titted bimbo slut”.

 

When she came back to full consciousness, it was the next morning. She didn’t quite know what had happened. She tried to think, but almost immediately realised that not knowing was making her happy, in a strange way, so she stopped trying to think about it.

 

As she dressed, she saw her tits in the mirror, and stopped to stroke and squeeze them. They were big - D-cups - and it made her happy to see them there, and touch them. She was big-titted. That was good. But... could they be bigger?

 

She dressed for work, and travelled into the office by public transport. On the train, there was a picture of a busty woman - at least an E cup - revelling in her long, blonde hair - an ad for a shampoo brand. Shannon stared at that woman the whole trip. The woman’s tits were so big, and her hair was so blonde, and she clearly cared about nothing except how happy the shampoo had made her. A word bubbled up in Shannon’s mind - “bimbo” - and it made her shiver with excitement.

 

She thought through all the things she associated with the word “bimbo” - they had big tits (often fake), blonde hair, they dressed trashily, they were stupid, they let men objectify them and fuck them, they giggled like little girls, they were sluts...

 

She was breathing heavily by the time she got off the train. Her face was flushed.

 

She did abysmally at work. She kept taking files to work on, and staring at them. She knew she could do this work, and do it well... but somehow it felt better *not* to do it, to just stare at it and let her mind go blank. By lunchtime, people were noticing that she was doing a poor job. One of her co-workers was staring at her in disgust. It made her feel strangely good. She stuck her finger into her mouth and sucked on it like a child. Later, her manager called her into his office and asked her what was wrong with her today - was she stupid?

 

At the word “stupid”, she felt a rush of happiness. She giggled - a high, silly sound - and said that she probably *was* stupid. Wasn’t this a man’s work? She should have been embarrassed to say that, but it just made her feel even happier.

 

“Oh yes? Then what’s a woman’s work?” asked her manager, and Shannon immediately knew the answer. She popped open her blouse, and pulled up her bra to expose her tits, and said, “Being a good slut, sir.” Soon she was on her knees, sucking her boss’ cock, and feeling happier than she ever had before.

 

“Stupid big-titted bimbo slut,” she thought to herself. “Stupid big-titted bimbo slut.” And the words made her feel happy.

 

She went home early, with her manager’s cum drying on her tits, and her first stop was at the chemist to find the cheapest blonde dye she could buy. Her second was in the red-light district to shop at the shops prostitutes shopped at and buy something more suitable for her new life. At home, she immediately dialled plastic surgery clinics to set in motion the process of a breast enhancement. Her manager said he would give her time off work, as long as they “were at least an F cup” and “looked ridiculously fake”, and as long as she was going to agree to do “women’s work” from now on.

 

It occurred to her that her ex was still angry at her. A good slut didn’t leave men angry at her. She wondered what she could do to make it up to him. Maybe he would like to hatefuck her once she had her new tits? She wasn’t sure; thinking made her sad. She would just turn up naked on his doorstep once she had her new bimbo body, and leave it to him to decide how she should apologise...

 

(END)