Max, a 23 Year Old Hypersexual

The first meeting Max ever had begun the same way most of his interactions with women did: Awkward silence. The time in which his eyes, whether he wanted them to or not, would glide over a woman’s body. That definitely applied to the woman he saw in the reception area of Paisley’s office, sitting at a computer. Despite not even knowing this woman’s name, he was already undressing her in his mind. He couldn’t see her lower half, but she could see enough of the woman’s body behind the computer to know she had breasts large enough to be fun to squeeze. Her lips weren’t the largest, but were still just fine for being wrapped around his-

“Max?” Paisley asked. “I’m ready to see you now.”

Max shook out of it, disgusted with himself again. The poor woman out front didn’t need him thinking of her that way. She almost certainly dealt with creeps all day, she didn’t need another asshole undressing her with his eyes. Of course, he was likely to do the same thing to his new therapist, whether he wanted to or not. His body’s needs were too overwhelming, and it had been too long since he had last masturbated. Too long since the brief bouts of post-nut clarity that seemed to be the only times Max could think without his dick.

Upon entering Paisley’s office, Max was greeted with what initially looked like a typical therapist’s office. The floor was carpeted with a basic pattern meant to be calming and non-threatening, with the added benefit of deadening sound in the room. The walls had a polished wood, which along with the plant in the room, he guessed was meant to help calm patients through subtle hints of nature. However, along the walls, besides a diploma showcasing Paisley’s credentials, were a series of photographs. These photos showed a mansion, and the Mediterranean island that surrounded it. It was the kind of place the ultarich went to as a getaway, not a place a therapist with a remotely normal income could afford to be. None of the photos looked like generic ones to Max either, but instead the kind of intimate photos one takes of a place they eat, sleep, and live in. But how? Did she have a filthy rich client? Was she a child of some immensely rich family?

“Before we begin, I wanted to ask you something,” Paisley’s speech snapped Max’s attention back to her. “If you weren’t hypersexual, what do you think your life would be like? What could you do that you otherwise couldn’t?”

It was a question Max should’ve been able to answer instantly. The word hypersexual had dominated his life ever since he had been diagnosed with it, the way any other diagnosis with a scary word attached changed lives. But he stalled, in part because of how overwhelmed his brain was with how Paisley looked. Her breasts were at least an F cup, her skin was flawless in a way that should’ve been impossible for someone in the real world, and even her voice was getting him excited. It was professional, yet there was an undercurrent of something, the kind of controlling tone a woman could have when she was about to take the lead in the bedroom, that was making him look like a drooling idiot in front of his own therapist.

“Sorry, sorry!” Max blurted out from his delay. “I… I’d have a job. I’d have a better relationship with women. And most of all, I could live my life without my head being dominated by... the need to cum.”

Max didn’t talk about in the first session that he had to masturbate six times a day to function. Nor did he say that he had dropped out of high school and got a GED instead because of fallout from someone revealing his condition. He certainly didn’t reveal that he was barely scrapping by in community college because of how difficult it was for him to study, or how his condition wrecked his ability to maintain any relationship, including at times the one with his parents. But that first conversation in their initial meeting opened the door to all of that because of how Paisley chose to respond.

“Max, you can have all those things,” Paisley said. “But there are two things you have to do. The first is you need to trust me. I suspect a lot of people have betrayed your trust before, so I realize I’m asking a lot, but this only works if you trust me.”

Before answering, Max took a deep breath. “I’ll try. You said there was another condition?”

“Yes Max,” Paisley said. “You need to let go of suppressing your condition. Stop trying to force yourself to be normal, as we both know it isn’t going to work. If you’re horny out of your mind, tell me. If you can’t focus because your need to orgasm has become overwhelming, tell me.”

That response was what caused Max to trust Paisley. He became hopeful this would genuinely be a different kind of treatment. It was why the rest of the session went well enough that Max returned to her many times in the future...

Max had scheduled an emergency session. Over the phone Paisley sounded oddly non-chalant about it, as if she was expecting it. He hadn’t thought about that much at the time, just

“So Max…”

Before Paisley could say anything else, Max immediately launched into a stressed out explanation of everything that had happened to him over the last couple of weeks. “I lost my job, my parents gave me an ultimatum and…”

Paisley just guided Max to the therapy couch while listening to him unload all his worries. It was the best part of his sessions so far, as he was able to unload all the stress he accumulated throughout the week.

“Max, slow down,” Paisley said. “Breath. Now, you said your parents gave you an ultimatum?”

“If I don’t make progress soon, they’re going to kick me out,” Max said. “My mom wants me to try drugs again but-”

“That would be barbaric,” Paisley declared. “What about your father? What did he say about any of this?”

"That I don’t seem to be getting any less horny with age, and that he isn’t rich enough to support me the rest of my life,” Felix said. “And that he has only tolerated me staying with them because I’m doing chores, and because he gets that my condition is hard but...”

“…Even he has lost patience,” Paisley finished. “I’m guessing losing your job did this?”

“They’re convinced it was because I couldn’t control myself,” Max said. “I tried to explain to them that I wasn’t masturbating in public, or anything like that, but they didn’t seem to listen this time.”

“Max, I hate to say this, but I think they’re burnt out, especially your mother,” Paisley said. “Didn’t your parents help you get this job? Maybe they feel burned from that.”

From anyone else, this would’ve caused a furious retort from Max. Instead he just said what children around the world have said for countless reasons. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” Paisley said while continuing to hug him. "But you should know anyone can lose patience, even those who love you."

“So they’re going to get rid of me?” Max asked, tears flowing to his eyes. “I… I can’t take care of myself, I can barely do chores around the house and my resume will look like complete dogshit and-”

“Max,” Paisley went up and grabbed him. “They aren’t throwing you out right now. They’re trying a tough love approach. I don’t think it will work, but they aren’t going to throw you out this instant.”

“What now?” Max asked while Paisley continued to hug him. If Max didn’t trust her so much, he would’ve noticed this contact as odd for a therapist.

“I think it’s time for a much more radical treatment than we’ve tried before,” Paisley said. “There won’t be any drugs of course.”

“Well, what else is there?” Max asked. “The condition is biological, and as much as I like these sessions, I haven’t been able to use them so far to improve much.”

Paisley ended the hug, and switched staring into his eyes. Max could struggle with eye contact, especially with women, but in this instance he felt captured by her gaze.

"All of your prior treatment attempts have been centered on suppressing your urges, or otherwise trying to ignore them," Paisley said. "What if instead of adapting you to society, we found a way to adapt society to you?”

"That's impossible-"

"Just answer honestly," the therapist said. "If you could be in a place that was adapted to your needs, would you want to? And don't lie to me Max."

Max collected himself before answering. "Of course, but that's impossible."

Paisley let go of Max and smiled like someone in on a secret. "Nothing is impossible Max, not even that. After all, there is Harem Hotel.”

Before Max could respond to this bizarre revelation, such as asking what the heck Harem Hotel was, reality itself completely changed…

Max found himself sitting on a throne in the middle of a beach, under an umbrella. As someone who didn’t believe in magic, he thought he was going insane, and tried pinching himself to no avail. He was sitting on a throne under an umbrella, both of which were on a beach, which looked… just like the one in the photos he had seen in his therapist’s office. That realization drew his attention back to the woman right in front of him: Paisley.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and all other viewers,” Paisley used an announcer voice Max had never heard her use before, “TO HAREM HOTEL!”

And in front of Max, was a very different version of Paisley than any he had seen before. She had pink hair instead of the chestnut brown he was used to, and instead of her usual professional clothing, she was wearing a bikini. A risque one at that, or maybe it just looked that way because her massive breasts were straining the bikini’s top.

“And before you, I present a master of the kind that Harem Hotel has rarely seen before,” Paisley said. “A master so consumed by lust that he has to masturbate over six times a day to control himself. Just to control himself!”

At that moment, Max went cold. He was brought back to the moment where his condition was revealed, and exploited by someone else for their own personal gain. It was something he had experienced before, and hoped would never happen again. Instead, it was happening again from someone he had put all of his trust in over the course of months. Someone he had trusted more than anyone, including his parents.

“Everyone in his life has betrayed him, and I’m sure he views me the same way,” Paisley continued to pace in front of him with the microphone. “But in fact, he’s about to get the best treatment of his life for his condition here. After all, six women, initially, are going to be competing to seduce him.”

The statement was ludicrous, and yet, Paisley said it with full confidence. Max may have had a front row seat to her mastery of bullshit, but this would be at another level, and for what?

“Now, before we begin introducing contestants, this season has another twist on the formula,” Paisley announced. “Our dear master here likes to think of himself as a modern, feminist guy. In addition, he used to be on the debate team in high school. So I’m going to make him a wager.”

Paisley then turned to look at him for the first time since they started. “If you can convince me a contestant doesn’t deserve to be on the show, after you talk to them for at least five minutes, I’ll let them go. By contrast, if you fail to convince me, they’ll join the show as normal. Worse, if you don’t even try, they’ll get an extra transformation.”

Wait, transformation? The question popped into Max’s mind, unsure of how to respond.

“Right, sorry, I have a lot to explain,” Paisley said. “More on that later, I have my main job to return to.”

She then spun around and went back to pacing on the beach. “After a brief commercial break, you will meet our first contestant…”

Like the showwoman she was in the moment, Paisley paused to build suspense.

“HANNA CONNELL!”

Max gulped as he realized how hard this was going to be. Hanna, after all, more than anyone else, had ruined his life.

“Alright Max, as a master debater,” Paisley smirked at the pun, “you need to know the rules of the game. So, let’s get started.”

Like he did back in the debate club during high school, Max breathed in, and focused. He didn’t know fully what was going on, but he had to get this right.

“First up,” Paisley said. “You may think that Harem Hotel is an ethical abomination. I’ve heard it many times, from both masters and contestants. I’m just going to warn you right now that argument will not work. Don’t even try it, you can argue all you want about how this is sexual slavery, and how no one deserves to be transformed against their will, but that isn’t an argument available to you.”

“WAIT!” Max screamed. “Sexual slavery? Transformation? I guessed some of that from the name Harem Hotel but Paisley, I don’t even know what Harem Hotel is! I can’t debate effectively without some research!”

Paisley, for the first time, looked surprised. Then playfully slapped herself on the head. “Sorry, right, I didn’t give you a quick magical introduction. Alright, we are somewhat on the clock, so time for a quick explanation.”

Before he could react, Max was teleported to a parody of a classroom with a projector.

“Alright Max,” Paisley said. “Here’s the deal with this. You’re the master. The women about to be kidnapped are called contestants. They, mostly but not entirely through sexual means, are trying to gain Victory Points, or VP for short.”

All the while, Paisley was clicking through slides that added visual aids to what she was explaining to Max. While it definitely helped him understand the material better, it also added to the sense of dawning horror about what was about to happen.

“When a contestant reaches 100 VP, she graduates, and gains a favored place in your harem,” Paisley said. “If they finish the season with less than 100 VP, their place in the harem isn’t as optimal.”

The slide Paisley clicked to next had an explanation of what the concept of a harem was. Max was quite aware, having consumed plenty of pornography focused on the idea, but it was quite different to have that potentially happen in real life.

“Now, I am what’s called the host of Harem Hotel,” Paisley said. “The host, for all you know, is your god. I may not have omnipotence, but from your perspective, I might as well. Teleportation is one of many, many things I can do. You would’ve learned enough physics while you were in high school, and for that matter debating nerds on internet forums, to know that teleportation violates many laws of physics.”

The smirking way Paisley talked about it suggested she was incredibly delusional, or was telling the truth. At least partially. Given the teleportation, and that he was nowhere near his home, this suggested she was telling the truth. That left Max with nowhere to go.

“Alright, there’s a lot more going on, but we’ll have to cover that later as we’re pressed for time,” Paisley said. “Back to the beach!”

Once again they teleported, and they were back on the beach. Before Max could get his bearings, Paisley launched back into an explanation of the debate rules.

“Back to the debate rules,” Paisley announced, “and Max, I hope you’re paying attention, because I’m not letting you write this down.”

Max bolted back upright hearing that, realizing what he was trying to save these women from. Regardless of whether Paisley had this power, which her teleportation very much suggested she did, he needed to pay close attention to this.

“Good, you’re nice and focused,” Paisley said. “Now, back to the debate rules. You may wish to be kind, and forgiving to the contestants. You may be angry with them, which the audience would prefer. Regardless of how you feel, your primary goal if you want to save them is that you must get an explanation for why they treated you, and in some cases others, the way they did. There will be a specific incident in which they showed up in your life. I’m sure you know very well what was with Hanna.”

Of course Max did. It was petty and small in the scheme of things given what was happening, but he did know it.

“Once your time has been used up arguing with the contestant, you will be brought back to me,” Paisley said. “Once there, if you want for me to let them go, you must provide reasons that they have either made up for what they did to you, or have otherwise changed as people so the crime doesn’t matter. Again, whether they deserve to be on Harem Hotel specifically is immaterial. The punishment is not in your hands, only the question of whether they have reformed or not. Do you understand?”

Max took a deep breath, and nodded. “So, them being kidnapped here is immaterial. Them being human beings, subject to rights like any other, is immaterial.”

“Yes,” Paisley said. “Both you and them have as many rights here as a serf does in medieval Europe. Whining about the system they are subjected to is futile.”

This made Max realize that when Paisley talked about debate club, she was talking about the kind of shock debates he never did in school. Where people debated the merits of genocide, or slavery. He viewed it as gross, but now he was stuck with those rules.

“That’s… a lot,” Max said while processing what was happening. “Wait, why am I not freaking out or catatonic at this revelation?”

“Oh, we’ve just calmed you down,” Paisley said. “If you actually freaked out at the level of what has been revealed to you, it would destroy your ability to function. Any other questions?”

“Many, but to focus on the matter at hand,” Max said. “While I’m talking to the contestants, such as Hanna, I must learn whether they have reformed. Does it matter whether they would be a good contestant on the show? Or is that also immaterial?”

“A good question,” Paisley said. “And the answer is that it can matter. If you think they would be a poor contestant, that can tip things over the edge when it comes to letting them go. However, someone being a bad contestant is not enough, in of itself, to save them from the show. They must have, in some manner, changed or reformed versus what they did to you, and in some cases, what they have done to others.”

“Okay,” Max said. “You were talking to someone I couldn’t see, like an announcer. You also brought up a commercial break. Were you talking to yourself, or was something else going on? You also briefly brought up someone called the audience earlier?

“You can catch on fast Max,” Paisley said. “The audience who watches this show, and is often the most important actor here. They aren’t even in the same dimension we’re in. I can’t give a full explanation yet, but I was not talking to empty air, despite how it looked.”

Great. Max wasn’t only on a show that violated the fundamental rules of both ethics and reality itself. He was also on reality TV, and judging what Paisley said, an interdimensional one.

“Does this audience play any part in these debates?” Max said. “Or is it just you I’m trying to convince here? I have to know all the judges to do my best, and if this is the type of show I think it is, I suspect you will be trying to please the crowd.”

“They can, but I’ll be the primary judge,” Paisley said. “The audience is a multi-faceted beast. Alright, you get one more question, and then you need to get started.”

“Does the contestant’s trauma, whether it be with sex, an abusive relationship, or anything else, act as a mitigating circumstance?” Max asked, already knowing the answer. “Or does it only matter as something that affects their ability to be on the show?”

“It matters some,” Paisley said. “But it is only mitigating Max. Also, you must know about it, and be the one to bring it up with me, or otherwise, it is immaterial. Similarly, if it affects their ability as a contestant, again, it is only mitigating. It will not decide the outcome. Now, let's get started…”