The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mad Libby: Self-Help Yourself

SYNOPSIS:

A young woman believes a website is the key to overcoming some personal body image issues. Of course, it helps… and then some.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

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DISCLAIMERS:

  • This story is a work of fiction; any apparent resemblance between the characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.
  • Do not read this story if you are under the age of 18 or if explicit sexual fiction is illegal in your jurisdiction.
  • This story contains mind control and explicit descriptions of a sexual nature. If any of these concepts disturb you, please find something else to read.
  • This story is a work of erotic fantasy. It is not meant to reflect real life, nor should it be read as an endorsement of the actions and attitudes contained within.

If you’re sitting at home alone on a Friday night, you know something’s gone horribly, horribly wrong with your life. It’s bad no matter what age you are, but feels particularly awful at twenty-one. Old enough to legally drink. Old enough to do pretty much anything and also old enough to know that only the pretty people actually get to do what they want, when they want to, and the rest of us just spend our time muddling through.

Sitting in my dorm room, I can’t help but wonder—Oh, Madelyn, where did your life go horribly wrong?

Looking back, I can’t quite pinpoint an exact moment.

Maybe I was completely doomed from the start.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been an introvert and unblessed by the burden of beauty. Unlike every other girl in my class, puberty did nothing to help. Absolutely nothing. Well, I mean, I got my period and all the un-fun stuff, but when it came to breasts, puberty opted to simply pass me by. I loathed them all, every other girl I met, for the looks I didn’t get, for the breasts I didn’t get, and equally despise every boy for not giving me a second look. Instead of being just quiet, I became quiet while also angrily fuming through an internal constant chorus of “why me?” only sometimes punctuated by a momentary lapse into “why not me?”

My dorm mate Lucy is constantly at her boyfriend’s room, but I think she just avoids coming home to have to spend any time with me. The last conversation we had quickly devolved into me yelling at her, “There’s no way you could understand what I’ve had to deal with my whole life! You’ve got perfect skin. And pretty hair. And breasts! Everything boys want. And what did you have to do to get it? Nothing!”

Lucy quietly, somewhat calmly, said, “Get help.”

She grabbed her laptop, a bag of clothes, and I haven’t seen her since.

At first, like always, I just fumed.

Who was she to tell me to “get help?”

Where did she get off?

But after two weeks, her words still resonated in my mind—Get help…

Get.

Help.

I tried to steel myself to visit the self-help section of the college library, but I couldn’t put myself out there for potential ridicule. Looks were one thing. It’s surface. I can’t have anyone out there questioning my sanity as well.

So, I turned to the internet, the hub of all worldly knowledge and keeper of anonymity.

An internet ad topped the search, claiming to provide “The best self-help imaginable and for FREE!”

Tempted by the combination of self-help and free, I click. Up pulls the initial launch page dialog box:

Do you already have a customized quiz created?

Yes

No

I click “no.”

I didn’t even know that was an option.

Start new quiz?

Yes

No

I click “yes.”

Are you over 18?

Yes

No

I click “yes” again, wondering why the website needs age barriers. What kind of self-help is this?

Number of questions desired: 1-100

I type in 5. It’s my lucky number. Has been since I was… well… five.

Set parameters to REVERSE, EMPHASIZE, REMOVE, RANDOMIZE, or IDEALIZE?

Having no idea what any of these mean, I pick IDEALIZE, as it seems positive and that’s what I’m here for—to finally add some positivity to my life.

Compel Truth in User?

Yes

No

I click “yes.”

In order to confront our fears and limitations, we must examine ourselves wholly and honestly.

1/5

If I could change one thing from my past, I would change _____

Wow, starting out strong out of the gate with the tough, hard-hitting personal questions. I was just lamenting how I’ve felt burdened by my past. If I’m honest, I’m typically lamenting that very thing. But we must confront to overcome. I think someone famous said that. If not, then they should have. If not, I’m totally taking credit for it going forward. Mental note to Google that phrase when I finish this quiz.

If I could change one thing from my past, I would change the way my looks negatively impacted me.

I wonder—Is it egotistical to describe myself as a “great beauty?”

I mean, if the rest of the world agrees, it’s just being factually accurate and not actually bragging. Smooth porcelain skin framed by a golden blonde that shines even when there’s no light around. Generally well proportioned… Generally…

I was so glad when I met my roommate Lucy that she was a pretty girl, but understood that she was not on par with me. Stations and levels, girl. I would hate to burden her with that sort of negative emotion. Petty jealousy is no way to live your life. I can’t imagine ever living my life that way.

2/5

I’ve always been sensitive about my _____

Oh, quiz, you cut me to my core. You know that while I’ve been a classic beauty since the day I was born, I’ve also remained incredibly self-conscious despite all of that because of my lack of breast size. I get A’s in school and I got A’s on my chest. I suppose there’s some kind of symmetry to that. Like the perfect symmetry of my face. So at least the universe has symmetry going for it.

I’ve always been sensitive about my breasts.

Uhn.

My breasts are so sensitive. Just shifting against fabric sometimes can get me wet and put me on the path to yet another quick orgasm. I shed my shirt and A-cup bra to avoid the distraction in order to allow me to finish this quiz, get some help, and become a better me on the inside.

3/5

People love me for my ________

Loving me for my looks seems pretty obvious. Of course, achieving orgasm after orgasm from part of me that I remain self-conscious about has the potential to be quite the turn-on in a relationship, so I’m going to embrace that imperfect perfection.

People love me for my breasts.

Firm, supple, and undeniable.

With my clothes on, I’m a 9 out of 10.

When my top comes off, it doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman, you would bend to my will at the sight of my mighty chest.

Hmm. What is wrong with me that I need to fix? Something inside me says I’ve always thought that if you had looks, you had everything. I have looks, why don’t I feel like I have everything? It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe that discrepancy led me to this self-help quiz thing.

4/5

I want to do more ______

You know what also doesn’t make sense? With looks like mine, with tits and power like mine, why don’t I have a fantastic and deep sexual history? Maybe that’s what I need to think about fixing with this quiz —my lack of human connection.

I want to do more people.

My sexual liberation started a little later than I’d like, but college has proven to be quite the fertile ground for exploration as well. I once made the mistake of showering with the rest of the cheerleaders. They got a look at my tits and we wound up draining the entire hot water tank dry and even after, continued to go at it in the cold.

5/5

Imagine you had superpowers—your one weakness would be ___________

I do have superpowers. I have the superpowers bestowed upon me by my incredible luscious mounds. My charm is all-encompassing. I have no weaknesses. The only way I would have a weakness would be if I discovered someone with a better pair than mine. In fact—

Imagine you had superpowers—your one weakness would be a better set of breasts.

My search continues for a match, the one pair of breasts that I must bow to, that I have to worship.

Lucy walks in. “Look, I’ve only come here to grab a few more things so there’s no need to—“

I swivel in my chair so she catches an eyeful of my whoppers. She glazes over and I command her, “Tee off, titslave.”

Her glazed gaze settles back into a smile now that she’s been commanded. She frantically tears her t-shirt off her body. I’m sad to see that she’s also wearing a bra. That must go. “Who told you that you could wear a bra, titslave?”

“N-no one.” She mutters.

I walk up behind her and with a flick of my wrist, the snap pops open. She shimmies to remove it from her torso, finally freeing her melons. The wobble of her shimmy leaves them shaking. While not as powerful as mine, I appreciate variety and hers have their own allure. Her alabaster skin and dark hair really set off the cute perky pink nipples. She has the seductive looks of a vampire, but thankfully, I’m the only master in the room.

I cup her more-than-a-handful in my hands. “Whose jugs are these?”

“Your jugs,” she replies.

I jiggle them. “Whose whoppers, pillows, rack?”

“Yours,” she replies.

“And these nipples?” I ask with a pinch. “Are they mine as well?”

“Yes.” She groans, already getting a little weak at the knees from my command of her body.

I let go of her fleshy twins and grip my right love apple, presenting it to her, hard brown nipple ripe for the tasting. “Give your mistress her due.”

She immediately begins to lick and suck at the teat provided, hungry to push me, her goddess, over the edge. I fight off my easy orgasm, not wanting her to achieve her reward too effortlessly. My attendants must pay their proper dues. When she’s done delivering my fourth or fifth orgasm, I will reward her with my tongue.

While it’s good to receive the admiring ministrations of acolytes, my ongoing quest is ever present in my mind. I feel compelled to find the pair of breasts worthy of my own total worship and devotion. I’m blissfully aware to enjoy the pleasures of the journey and not focus solely on the destination. Along the path to my eventual submission, I will sample any and all wonderful orbs I can.