A Perfectionist's Guide To Self Pleasure

Trigger Warnings for unreality/dream logic, anxiety concerning masturbation, heavy implications of masturbation, and lots of bath and bubble metaphors. 

Max's eyes kept flicking open and shut, finding himself in the middle of a hazy bathroom, steam drifting off the bathtub he currently resided in. He could feel the water caressing his skin, the liquid dark and opaque, bubbles subtly rising to the top as thoughts kept drifting over him and taking over.

Max's eyes kept flicking open and shut, finding himself in the middle of a hazy bathroom, steam drifting off the bathtub he currently resided in. He could feel the water caressing his skin, the liquid dark and opaque, bubbles subtly rising to the top as thoughts kept drifting over him and taking over.

He hadn't realized how much headspace his mother took and, now that the monster was gone, his head was dangerously empty. Though his mother had planted several weeds, someone had taken it upon themselves to replace them with roses in turn. 

Max could hear Florence's breaths, feel Florence's skin against his. Florence had felt so soft, so smooth. How could the thought cross his or even anyone's mind to break such a beautiful person? That was the equivalent of seeing a lovely vase, a gorgeous piece of art, and deciding to debase it. 

Max's eyes broke through the ever growing fog when he heard the sound of rushing water. Something had risen from the tub, a human-like shadow appearing in front of him.

"You've spent so long making Florence feel safe. Yet, you deserve the same kindness, do you not?" the man asked, but Max was only able to see him more clearly when he leaned closer.

The man's face broke through the fog, eyes still obscured and hair now wet. Its droplets managed to clear some of the haze around his exposed chest, making the only breathable air in the room.

The man brought up a calloused hand to brush back his hair, shooting Max a huge grin. Max had to take several breaths before speaking, fighting against the incessant heat.

"Florence has trauma, what do I have that makes me need such kindness?"

The question made the man's expression drop.

"You already know the answer to that. You can see it all around you, can't you?" he said, Max's eyes squinting.

Suddenly, the room went dark, and a million eyes were on him. The room was filled with whispers, Max's arms coming up to cover himself though it felt as if those pupils could see right through to his very bones.

"Sexual dysfunction…"

"He's broken."

"You'll want it eventually."

"It's only natural…

…Natural…

…Natural…"

"The poor thing."

"Come on, give it a try, Max!"

"Max…"

"Max!"

"Max? What's wrong?" 

"Please, please make it stop," Max said, ducking his head and covering his ears.

He was shocked when the man listened, Max opening his eyes to once again see that blurry bathroom, only darker this time around. When he put his hands down, the only sound he heard was his own breathing and the splashing of the water. Max shivered, sinking more into the warm bath water.

"You've felt all alone in this. Anyone that wants that from you can't understand the way you feel. You become isolated, such a sweet feeling all for the sake of such pain."

The darkness around his eyes darkened for a moment, before he gave Max an almost gentle smile.

"But, you don't have to worry about that with me," the man said, coming closer.

He backed Max up to the wall, who blinked in alarm.

"I don't have to worry about that with Florence either, we're similar in a lot of ways, this included."

Max took a moment to consider this thought, smiling at it. Though the man's previous words soon had him glaring.

And? W-what are you suggesting?" Max said, eyes widening as it set in, "No. I can't do that, it's wrong."

"But I'm you, Max. I understand your body, I understand what you need," the man said, and Max felt himself flush.

The man laughed as Max practically glued himself to the wall, the man putting a hand on his heart in mock offense. 

"Do you still not trust me after everything? Do you still not trust yourself, dear?"

Max's hand, which was placed on the side of the tub, slipped down, leaving splashes of water on the wall along with his upper body. They were white, the whole room was perfectly white and nondescript, Max noticed.

"Don't you want to experience how Florence felt?" the man said, lifting up his hand.

The gesture sent another wave of emotion over Max, and his breathing became heavier.

Max's muscles relaxed at the sensation, taking in the scent of vanilla that wafted over him, feeling eyes and hands on him and yet, when they were his own, it didn't feel as invasive as he was accustomed to. Yet, it still felt strange. The man came closer, allowing Max to feel his warmth and the softness of his skin, before pulling away.

"Well," he said, motioning with his head to the water.

The water had been splashed thanks to his movements, rocking back and forth until something at the bottom had managed to surface. It was a bottle, nondescript, and it floated perfectly between the two atop the bath's many bubbles.

When Max went to grab it for further inspection, it wasn't his hand that moved but the man's. Max looked up, trying several times but it was always the man's hand that moved, not his. He could move everything else, his legs, his body, his head, just not his hands, that feeling having been transferred across the way into the identical pair. The man was giving him an expectant look and, after a deep breath in and several seconds of trepidation, Max proceeded forward.

Giving the bottle a touch, hand wrapping around it, sent a small, pleasant shiver down Max's back. From just that one touch, he could feel the liquid present along the bottle's bottom and bubbles all along its side.

Max found himself making the man's hands explore its thin shape, more shivers presenting themselves before he gave it a good squeeze. Some of the liquid pushed itself to the top of the bottle for just that brief moment, Max blinking as absolute euphoria rushed over him at the sensation of feeling it transfer from the base to the tip and back again.

Max stopped, pulling the man's hands away with the tensing of his shoulders, before gravitating back towards the bottle. He forced back a hum as he more properly kneaded the pliable material. The man's hands were foreign yet so familiar, Max able to feel them along the bottle as if it were merely another part of his body. The liquid began to slosh audibly. 

"Aw, you can hardly control yourself."

Max's eyes had closed, and only the man's voice and the liquid of the bottle existed to him. The liquid within was beginning to mix with the soap the more Max managed to squeeze it. His breathing gradually became more and more unsteady.

"I-I'm not used to feeling this way," Max said, and the man gave it a tighter squeeze.

Max's head lulled back, at a complete loss for breath at the motion as it sent nearly all the water to the front before forcing it back down again. The suds crackled in protest against the wave.

"Then relax, enjoy yourself," the man said, returning to Max's steady rhythm.

Max sunk deeper into the tub still, the sensation of the man's hands and the rushing of the water filling him up. His legs spread beneath the water.

"It feels wrong but…that feels so good," Max said, breath becoming ragged.

The man pressed harder, massaging the bottle's middle so that the water and the soap could have an easier time intermingling. Max gasped at the sensation of the small whirlpool, focus shifting from the bottle to the water itself as it was purified.

"Ah, does that excite you, darling? In that case, I won't stop," the man said in little more than a whisper.

The man's touches became more intense, filling every single ounce of the water with bubbles. Max could feel their touch, rubbing and slipping off just the right edges. 

"See? Your body has wanted this for so long. Why deny yourself such pleasures?" the man asked, and Max's eyebrows furrowed.

"It never asked me for it."

"It did, you were just too afraid of it to comply. Mmm, that's right. You feel so wonderful right now," the man said, kissing Max's head as he continued to touch.

The man picked Max up, cradling him as he pleasured himself and allowing the bottle to feel more friction now that it was out of the water. Max pressed his face to the man's chest as he suppressed several noises.

"That's good, darling, that's good. Just enjoy yourself," he whispered into Max's ear. 

Max could feel the water begin to rise without coming down, mimicking the feeling in his chest and becoming stuck at the top. 

"You're so close darling. Just relax," the man said, pushing harder against Max.

Max whimpered, struggling through the wave of sensations washing over him.

"You gave your body a need, darling, and there is nothing wrong with fulfilling that need. Show your body it can trust you to do so. It will feel safer with you after, it distrusts you for many reasons," the man said and Max let out a light scoff.

"Distrusts me? I should distrust it. It's always betrayed me."

The man reached up to stroke my cheek.

"Your body has never betrayed you, Max. Bodies are possessive. It craves your love, but you have despised it for all its weaknesses and even its beauties. You would feel much better if you allowed yourself to love it just as it loves you. It would not want you to do such acts nor reciprocate so strongly unless it loved you," the man said and Max blinked, eyes opening briefly.

"My body...is making me feel this way because...it loves me?"

The man gave Max's cheek a good pat.

"Yes. So darling, let it," the man said, moving Max's hands to touch his own. 

The touch was cool compared to the heated bathroom, helping center Max despite the anxiety coursing through him. With bated breath and as much will as he could muster, Max pushed all of the bubbles out of the bottle in one, firm stroke.

Max awoke in an instant, covered in sweat and a bit more than excited. He turned to the figure beside him, relieved when he found Florence fast asleep. He watched Florence peacefully snoring, assisting in his ability to calm down, before staring back at the ceiling and reflecting on his dream.

What…was that?