Bitter Guidance

Magnolia was stewing in frustration, as she often was between meetings with students. She was a college guidance counselor, divorcee, and was steadily becoming the kind of sad woman who drank herself to death that Magnolia once mocked in college. To think it was all because of a single lazy cheating asshole. All of her dreams rotted away, because the man she had chosen to marry couldn’t keep it in his pants. He went on and on about how he had needs she wasn’t fulfilling, without ever caring about hers. Maybe if he had ever done a damn thing to take care of the house besides mow the lawn she would’ve been more interested in fulfilling his so called needs.

This stewing in misery was interrupted by a knock at Magnolia’s door. When she looked up, she saw a woman with chestnut brown hair she had never seen before.

“Ms. Curtis?” The woman asked. “It’s Paisley, I’m from the administration. I’m here to talk about your performance.”

This was a conversation Magnolia Curtis had been dreading. One she had often thought would never happen because of how little the administration seemed to care about the college’s ability to help its students find jobs. It was something she once complained about, but ceased to care about as she barreled ever further into being consumed by the bottle. So of course it had to come to a head now, when she was more to blame for the decline.

“Take a seat I guess,” Magnolia was resigned to her fate. “Look, I warned the administration they needed to care more about the career center-”

“Ma’am, we have reports of you being wildly inappropriate with a student,” Paisley said. “At least one instance where you went off on a tirade about your ex-husband?”

The silence that filled the room in response was deafening. How could Magnolia answer that in a way that wouldn’t lead to her being fired? What could she say that would make what she said less ugly? But then she remembered who they were talking about, and Magnolia thought she’d be in the clear. The student had done something wildly inappropriate, and then brought up some bullshit to defend himself, just like her husband had.

“I found out someone seeking career assistance had brought porn with him to a K12 school!” Magnolia screamed to showcase her indignation. “He said some horseshit about being hypersexual but that was-”

“Completely true,” Paisley cut her off. “Hypersexuality is a very real condition Ms. Curtis. It can force someone to masturbate several times a day to function, and is certainly not aided by hearing someone rant about their ex-husband.”

Magnolia was worried, but also very suspicious. Why would someone from the administration take the side of the student in this case? It wasn’t like the administration would’ve been able to hear anything in the meeting if they weren’t in the room, and nobody would’ve heard her in a nearby office. So how could this woman claiming to be from the administration know all this stuff about a meeting that had happened months ago?

“Ma’am, you were yelling, and loud enough to be heard down the hall” Paisley said. “You should consider how far your screams can travel. Or how your breath smells when you drink.”

This was a nightmare. One Magnolia wanted to escape, and so she got up from her desk, then tried to bolt. But when she left her office, the world went dark…

“You said there was another incident?” Paisley asked. “Besides the one with Shui.”

“Yeah, it was with a guidance counselor,” Max said. “She blew up at me because she had found out all the bullshit that happened in high school. Apparently part of her process is to research students online to help them prepare stuff like resumes, and also guide them through how to prepare one’s digital presence for employers. As you can imagine…”

Max trailed off as the memory of the incident came back. A woman in her forties screaming at him because of the incident from high school. It didn’t matter that the whole meeting lasted minutes once the truth came out, or that he smelled booze from her breath. Once again, Hanna had reached out and turned a stranger against him.

“All the stuff with Hanna and the porn on school grounds came to light,” Paisley finished for him. “I can see how that’d be difficult to explain.”

All of these years later, Hanna was still ruining his life. If she hadn’t found the porn in his locker, or confronted him in the restroom over it, Max would’ve been able to graduate high school. He would’ve been able to go to a better college potentially, and just as importantly, he would not have to try, in futility, to explain why he had porn with him on school grounds.

“I never got the chance to explain,” Max said. “I mean, I got as far as saying I had hypersexuality, but that caused a tirade I didn’t expect. Something about having an ex-husband claiming he couldn’t help his infidelity because she wouldn’t put out enough. It was a whole tirade, it made me feel… uncomfortable.”

“Does that happen to you often Max?” Paisley asked. “Your condition being seen as an excuse?”

“Somewhat,” Max continued. “But Magnolia was the one that made me understand emotionally, not just intellectually. So many men claim to be sex addicts or otherwise use their hormones as an excuse that my very real issues are brushed off. It’s why it often feels like a waste of time to even try to explain my condition.”

“I’m not surprised by that,” Paisley said. “In a lot of ways Max, your condition forces you to behave like a stereotype of masculinity. Men are seen as the initiators of sex, and the ones encouraged to be lustful, whereas women are encouraged to submit to male desire. Those are stereotypes, as you well know, but they are stereotypes enforced by society. Because you are a man that is hypersexual, you embody the stereotype of the lustful brute that cannot control himself. Whenever you try to claim you are someone or something else, it looks like a lie.”

“Is there a way out of that?” Max asked, desperate. “Or am I just cursed to always live in the shadow of men I’ve never met?”

“People have to get to know you Max,” Paisley said. “Even then, they would need to get something out of the horny side of you to accept you.”

That statement jolted Max into paying attention. “Are you saying the only people who will put up with me are people fucking me?”

Maybe this was an extreme statement meant to stir Max to action. Or maybe he was just misinterpreting it. The answer turned out to be uncomfortable.

“Not necessarily,” Paisley said. “It could be someone who enjoys the same porn you do, or just likes to talk about sex with you. The key is though, your condition cannot purely be a hindrance to be worked around, or hidden. It has to be out in the open as something they know about.”

“I can see how that works online,” Max said, “but how does that work in person? Who wants to deal with a pervert all day?”

“Plenty of people want sex Max,” Paisley said. “I know it can be easy to forget, but women do enjoy sex too. It may seem impossible right now, but your condition doesn’t have to just be something you hide from others, which as you’ve found out, is often futile anyway. There are both men and women who could enjoy dealing with that.”

“That’d require someone to date me or at least get to know me,” Max said. “That feels quite a few steps away from where I am at the moment with women. Even guys don’t deal with me because they don’t want to associate with a gross pervert.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Paisley said. “But you may be viewing this the wrong way. There are relationships based primarily on sex, or that start from that basis. While it’s hard to imagine for you now, you should keep your mind open to something like that, as it would work with your condition, rather than against it.”

Max gave an awkward laugh before replying, “Well, if you can show me a place women want to fuck a loser whose stuck living with his parents for the foreseeable future, be my guest…”

“Next one up is Magnolia, Max,” Pailey said, “Or as you knew her, Ms. Curtis.”

Max sighed as he had a challenge far harder than anyone other than Hanna, and his success so far was one out of three. “The drunk divorcee huh? Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

After teleporting to the same hallway, and masturbating in the powder bathroom once again, Max readied himself for an argument that he was sure would be filled with screaming, and bitter tirades about exes. Opening the door to the bedroom, he saw Magnolia Curtis, once again.

While Max was into MILFs, Magnolia looked… rough. Drinking had clearly caught up with her, as the wear and tear of age was evident on her skin, along with everywhere else. Of course it could’ve been stress that left her with wrinkles too early, or perhaps it was depression that made her body look worn out. The rest of her looked fine, with breasts that Max guessed were at just about a D cup, and hips that introduced the hint of an hourglass to her body shape. If she took better care of herself, Magnolia could probably look great. Even with her looking like crap because she didn’t take care of herself, Max would’ve been helpless to avoid fantasizing about her without the masturbation session beforehand.

“Ms Curtis,” Max rushed through an intro, desperate to do better than he had before. “I’m sure you aren’t thrilled to see me, but I need you to listen very carefully. You have to convince me in the next five minutes why you do not deserve to be here, and keep in mind that calling me a sex addict is an unworkable answer because of who I have to convince.”

When Magnolia turned to face him, her eyes were red, and Max could tell it was from crying. Every prior contestant had been animated by fear, and when they had met him, anger. But not grief. For a brief moment, it gave him hope that this argument could go differently, that he could save someone besides Claudia. That confidence lasted seconds before Magnolia turned to face him.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Magnolia asked. “That I regret calling you a sex addict, even though hypersexuality is just more a scientific name for the same term? That it was inappropriate for me to compare you to my ex-husband, even though you both used the same GOD DAMN EXCUSE!”

It didn’t matter what the situation at hand was. Max was past tired of being told his condition was an excuse, or didn’t exist. He knew it was playing into Paisley’s hands, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“It’s not an excuse,” Max’s voice built with rage. “And if you honestly still believe it is, I can’t save you, because you will deny any evidence I show you to the contrary. You’re no better than your ex, because you will just keep making up bullshit to justify your view of the world.”

Max’s voice was angry, but it hadn’t built to a yell yet. That changed when Magnolia tried another whiny excuse of an argument, and one that tested his patience on a level he didn’t even know was possible. “Why is it my problem that you can’t control yourself? Why is it-”

“YOU MADE IT YOUR PROBLEM!” Max’s voice exploded with years of built up rage at how he had been treated. “You chose to make it your business what I did in high school, you chose to go on a tirade about your ex-husband, and you chose to tell me I’m a pervert that can’t get a fucking job. Tell me, can you control your drinking? Would your current employer keep you if they knew how wasted you are throughout the day?”

“Why did you bring porn with you to high school?” Magnolia asked. “What about your underage classmates? If you’re so fucking horny why do you need to bring boxes of porn with you?”

“Why was that your business?” Max asked. “It only came to light because Hanna broke into my locker and spied on me in the bathroom. Unless you’re going to argue that it was somehow my fault that Hanna chose to go through my things without my knowledge or permission, I don’t see how this was any of YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!”

“I was your guidance counselor, I just looked up what any potential employer would learn,” Magnolia said, more reserved than before. “I drank because of dealing with an asshole who did nothing in the house, and whenever I refused to put out, would go out on the town looking for sex. Divorcing him required me to build evidence. If hypersexuality was real, he would’ve brought it up during the proceedings. There’s no possible way that-”

“There are people who pretend to have cancer,” Max said. “Are you going to use that to claim cancer isn’t real? Also, do you think it is fun to jerk off that many times a day? Do you think it is enjoyable to have to hide who I am from people like you all the time? Do you think I like having my boundaries violated all the time by people who seem extremely self-assured that I have violated the boundaries of others?”

“You brought-”

“We’ve been over this, that porn that was in my locker, where it was locked away, or was on my person in the school restroom,” Max said. “Do you blame people when someone breaks into their house and-”

Max disappeared in the middle of his retort. Once again, he proved too angry to save anyone…

As usual, Paisley was lounging on the beach when Max teleported back. This time she had a different porn mag that he had in his locker that day. It was very focused on MILFs, although he had chosen it mostly because of how busty one of the models in it was.

“I know you want to explain it Max,” Paisley said while putting the magazine away, “but you’re going to have an uphill climb with someone whose husband claimed they were a sex addict as an excuse for infidelity. Or for that matter was once a bit more of a wild child than you were.”

“Maybe so,” Max said. “However, I shouldn’t have to explain it to anyone. But then you already know that, and the person responsible for everyone knowing is already here.”

That Paisley was the one who had kidnapped them in the first place, of course, was left unsaid.

“Are you going to claim that this is all Hanna’s fault again?” Paisley asked. “I must warn you that won’t work because Magnolia harmed you a bit more than just freezing you out of her life.”

Max didn’t reply at first. He walked over to Paisley, and collapsed on the beach near her, feeling drained from what he had been doing. He had been a piece of shit to a woman kidnapped against her will, because he couldn’t get over her screaming at him once. After letting the sun dance on his skin for a few minutes, Max collected himself enough to continue.

“That’s not my argument,” Max said. “My argument is that Magnolia is a sad sack of shit who's going to drink herself to death soon anyway. I’m sure she’s crap at her job, I’m sure someone in the college administration is going to notice how bad she is at doing career guidance, and… again, losing her job will send her over the edge. Why punish someone who's already doing a great job of punishing themselves?”

“You’re wrong for two reasons Max,” Paisley said. “For one, you dramatically overestimate how much the college administration gives a shit about the career center. They have it, on paper, but they haven’t paid attention to it in a long time, and so she can continue steadily declining in her job until she dies. I guarantee you that no one will notice.”

“Convenient,” Max said. “I can’t even claim that we should just live and let live, because I’ve already seen the downsides of her being a bitter old drunk on other people. What’s the other reason? Are you going to magic away her alcoholism? You know how I am with drugs, and that definitely includes in the context of sex.”

“Of course we are Max,” Paisley said. “While there are seasons that play with drugs, this isn’t one of them. Nor is it purely about punishment, as much as it might seem that way to you right now. Magnolia, if she can manage to avoid elimination, will have a far better life in your harem than she will on her own. Better, she won’t ruin anyone else’s life the way she helped trash yours.”

Max sighed and got up. “Even with magic, without a fundamental alteration to who she is, I don’t see how she gets better. I especially don't know how she gets better seeing someone who reminds her of the man she blames everything on.”

“You’re a better man than her ex Max,” Paisley said. “No matter how much shit you go through, you’ve never given into the siren song of misogyny the way he did. If anything, you’ve kept trying to protect women from your condition.”

Except Max had given into the siren song of misogyny. Multiple times. If he had been better, he would’ve been able to control himself, he would’ve been able to avoid blowing up at her over a single fucking meeting, and he would’ve been able to save a woman whose primary crime was having a nasty divorce. Why had he only been able to win on the easiest possible difficulty?

“Ah yes, a guy who barely scraped through a GED and community college is marriage material,” Max’s voice was bitter, and filled with self hatred. “I can even clean on a good day, but don’t expect me to cook anything, or do a task that can’t be interrupted halfway through.”

Paisley walked over, put a hand on one of Max’s shoulders, and glared at him. “Max, stop deprecating yourself so much. As a joke it has ceased to be funny, and it does nothing to make you more approachable. Worse, it’s a verbal form of self-harm.”

“Paisley, it’s a bit late to talk about my psychological health,” Max said while grabbing her hand. “I know you claim this is good for me, but I want to assure you with every fiber of my being that, so far, it has been an exercise in, over and over again, failing to save someone from a fate I suspect many would find worse than death.”

“Max,” Paisley said while using her other hand to grab his face, “you are simultaneously so close yet so far from the truth. Hold onto the part of you that cares about these people, and that wants to be a better guy. You’ll need it later.”

That response, despite Paisley’s tone, felt like a taunt to Max. Like trying to hold onto that part of himself was an exercise in futility, and one that would be milked for drama before his inevitable failure. Just like Max suspected Paisley had set up this debate format as a gimmick, and had pre-ordained the outcome in almost every case. Despite all of that, he’d keep on trying, hoping against all evidence to the contrary that it was possible to free someone else.

“I don’t see how giving me a harem full of unwilling participants helps me do that,” Max said, tears welling up in his eyes. “But I’ll try my best. Now, who’s next?”