LIFE IN THE PLEASANT BECOMING

Being Pleasanted wasn’t as terrible as she’d always thought it would be. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t like her skin was burning and tight or her hair felt like a big clown wig. She simply felt as though she was wearing a costume she couldn’t take off.

There were times when she wanted to do one thing, but her body chose to do another. She would find her thoughts clouded and strange; time would jerk and she would find herself in different places and it would be an hour or two later and she would have no idea what she had done in the interim.

She would look in the mirror more than she had ever done, examining herself for any flaws. Gazing at her somehow flawless skin, glossy lips, and shiny hair. She would smile and show her perfect teeth in a perfect smile. Her own beauty was enthralling.

She was enchanted by her own appearance. In love with the sound of her own voice as she talked or sang. Her figure had become more pleasing than ever before and she loved running her hands over the curves of her hips and thighs and breasts. She had never looked so good in her entire her life.

She had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars over her lifetime attempting to make herself beautiful in her own eyes. She’d gotten unnecessary surgeries and put herself through painful and degrading beauty treatments that had never quite given her the results she wanted.

Yet now, after being Pleasanted, she couldn’t find a single bad angle when she looked in the mirror. She looked as beautiful as she’d always dreamed of being. She’d never been happier about her appearance and didn’t want to go back to looking the way she used to be.

Sure, the brainwashing wasn’t something she would have chosen to go through, but in return for her beautiful new self? She could accept it as a fair exchange.

What she didn’t want to put up with was her husband.

Now that she was the perfect version of herself… her husband looked like a hairy goblin creature in comparison. The very sight of him turned her stomach. And the idea of him touching her beautiful body? No way.

Him just looking at her disgusted her. That he thought he was worthy of her in any way?

Killing him was surprisingly easy. He had absolutely no defenses against her, not even the ones he’d had before her Pleasanting. It was as though he was so certain that she would never even consider harming him that he’d dropped all his walls before her.

It made killing him near effortless.

He didn’t even scream before dropping to the floor. There was barely any blood, just a few drops that she wiped up with a paper towel before carrying his body to the suitcase she’d gotten ready and levered him inside.

Before, it would have been near impossible for her to haul around his limp body, but after being Pleasanted her muscles were more efficient. He’d likely planned for her to do all the heavy lifting around the house, never expecting that he would be the first load she’d carry.

She folded him up into the suitcase and zipped it closed. Then she carried the suitcase out through the garage door and put it in the trunk of his car. Then she went back inside and began using his suitcases to pack up his clothes and anything else he would take if he was fleeing his life.

Then she dressed in the clothes she’d prepared and put on a ball cap and sunglasses. Looking in the mirror, she decided that if no one got a close look, she could pass for him.

She gathered up her jewelry and any loose money in the house, but left her important documents in place. They were the sacrifice she was willing to make.

Then she went into the kitchen and used a kitchen knife to cut the back of her arm, well away from any veins or important bits, then began to squeeze blood out, dripping it here and there, splattering it against the walls and floor. Then she used some paper towels and did a bad job cleaning it up, leaving traces under the stove and refrigerator and on the underside of a cabinet. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but there was enough to be suspicious.

She used a prepared bandage and alcohol wipe to treat the cut on her arm. Then she said goodbye to the house and the life she lived and drove away with his dead body in the trunk of his car.

To anyone investigating, it would appear that he had murdered her and fled to points unknown. They would search for him, but they would never find him, because she would have already buried his body in a hole in the desert and burned his car. Then she would be free to make her own life.

Beautiful and free, the way she had always wanted to be, but had never managed.

Because of morals and ethics and expectations put on her by other people and herself.

But now she was Pleasant. And everything felt good and right.

=END=

~Harper Kingsley

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