Max padded out of the bedroom, wearing a big robe, hair sticking up in gravity-defying angles. She yawned, scratched her thigh absentmindedly, and blinked blearily at the hallway.
Bathroom. Mission critical.
She took a single step forward.
Then froze.
"Mummm~ Fuck me! Oh, yeassss~ Spank that ass, Alex."
Moaning!
Not just moaning... enthusiastic, Oscar-worthy moaning. Coming from Caroline's room.
Max narrowed her eyes with a naughty grin.
"…Oh. Oh my God… yes... yes... right there, you dirty little..."
Max blinked. "What in the bargain-bin porno…"
She glanced back at the closed door of Caroline's room. Then back down the hall. Then back at the door again.
Another high-pitched whine echoed through the apartment. Followed by a thud. And what sounded suspiciously like Caroline yelling, "Yes, you magnificent bastard, destroy me!"
Max narrowed her eyes. "Is she… is she summoning something in there?"
She tiptoed down the hall and leaned in, ear to the door.
A mechanical buzzing joined the symphony.
"Oh my God," Max muttered, backing away. "She's conducting a symphony with a vibrator. Alex you horny Sugar Daddy, you teased her on your way out, didn't ya?"
Caroline's voice rang out again, louder this time, "Yes! Don't stop! Right there, oh, Alex! Keep going. Fuck me hard. Choke me. Oh, yeah! Just like that. Oh~ MY GOD~ I'M CUMMING!"
Max blinked rapidly.
There came a couple of more moans... Then...
There was a pause. Silence.
Then a soft, contented sigh.
And Caroline, voice calm and chipper now, said, "Mmm. Five stars. Would recommend."
Max turned and walked back down the hall slowly, like a veteran returning from war.
She made it to the bathroom door before Caroline's door swung open.
There she was, beaming, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and sweaty even with the AC on.
"Oh hey, Max," she said cheerfully, as if she hadn't just performed a one-woman show worthy of an adult film award. "Did I wake you?"
Max just stared. "No. No, no. Just…uh. Passing through. Bathroom."
Caroline nodded, sipping her smoothie. "Cool. I'm trying to start mornings with a self-care routine. You know, hydrate, vibrate, meditate."
Max blinked. "…Is that the order? Or do you mix it up?"
"Depends on the vibe," Caroline said with a wink.
Max shuffled away without another word, eyes wide, brain buffering.
Caroline called after her. "Let me know if you want a turn with Prince Buzzington!"
Max didn't stop walking. "I'm calling the Pope."
...
[Bathroom – Five Minutes Later]
Max closed the bathroom door, stretched, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Tousled hair, pillow lines on her cheek, and the look of a woman who was about to commit an act of self-inflicted regret.
She bent down, opened the cabinet, and pulled out the waxing kit she'd impulse-bought last week because "45% off" felt like destiny.
She squinted at the packaging:
"Salon Smooth: For Legs, Bikini, and Brave Souls."
Max muttered, "What marketing sadist added brave souls to this?"
She looked at her legs. Smooth. Armpits? Smooth. Bikini line? …Workable, but she'd seen better.
She raised an eyebrow. "Just a little test. Science. For knowledge."
Cut to ten minutes later...
Max stood in front of the mirror, one foot on the closed toilet seat, squinting down at her inner thigh like it had personally wronged her.
A thick glob of pink wax clung to her bikini line.
"Okay," she muttered to herself. "This is fine. Okay, Max. You're a strong, independent woman. You are a woman of chaos. You're curious. You're twenty-four. You're in your prime. You've done worse. You can do this. Yeah... I am fearless. I..." she paused, eye twitching, "...may have used too much."
She leaned closer, examining the situation.
"Oh no. Oh no no no. That's not a strip... that's a landmass."
The wax had hardened. It glistened ominously. It looked less like a beauty product and more like something you'd use to seal hull damage on a spaceship.
Max inhaled through her nose. "You did this to yourself," she told her reflection. "No one told you to wax your hoo-ha before coffee."
She grabbed the edge of the wax and gave it a tiny, experimental tug.
Her entire soul flinched.
"Motherfuc..." She hissed, eyes watering. "Okay. Okay. We can't panic. We do not panic."
She glanced at the instructions again.
"Wait until wax is cool and firm to the touch. Then, in one swift motion, pull opposite the direction of hair growth."
Max looked down.
"…Which way is opposite when it grows in seventeen different directions like a confused hedge maze?"
She placed one hand on the counter, the other hovering near the wax.
"This is what separates the casuals from the legends," she whispered. "I've seen women give birth in car backseats. I can do this."
She took a deep breath. Counted to three.
Then pulled.
RIIIIIIIIP.
"FUCKING JESUS ON A RAZOR SCOOTER!" Max screamed, legs buckling. She grabbed the edge of the sink like it was her last tether to this mortal plane.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her soul left her body. Her ancestors wept in sympathy. But she thought that since it was hurting so much, she'd ride this pain and rip another strip and so she did it...
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
The sound that came out of Max was somewhere between a wounded animal and a soprano note from a haunted opera house. Her foot slipped, she staggered back, and nearly knocked over the trash can.
She clutched her inner thigh, one eye twitching. "What the actual dick-shrinking hell!"
Max closed her eyes and took deep breaths.
"Oh my God. My vagina looks like a war zone. what have I done to my coochie?!"
She looked down.
Two patches of skin were now smooth as marble. The rest… was not.
And the ripped-off wax strips in her hand? Looked like it had fought in 'Nam.
There was a knock at the bathroom door.
"Uh… Max?" Caroline's voice, too casual. "Everything okay in there? Sounded like you exorcised a demon."
Max didn't even lift her head. She just mumbled, face pressed to the cool countertop.
"I'm fine. Just… reevaluating every choice that led me here."
Caroline snorted. "Want backup? I've got aloe and tequila."
"Unless one of them can do the rest of this for me, no thanks."
Caroline paused. "The tequila can."
Max let out a weak, pained laugh.
"I'm gonna die with half a waxed crotch. This is how they'll find me. One bare lip, one fuzzy lip. Like some kind of sad, sexy yin-yang."
Another pause. Then Caroline's muffled voice came through the door:
"Hydrate, vibrate, then wax, Max. Order matters."
Max groaned.
Cut to another ten minutes later + screams and cursing...
Max stared into the mirror like she was negotiating with a hostage-taker.
One strip left.
One.
The final boss.
She stood awkwardly, one foot back on the toilet, the last glob of wax clinging to her inner thigh like a stubborn barnacle. It shimmered with menace. It pulsed with vengeance. It knew what it was about to do.
She flexed her fingers. "Alright, bitch. You've taken enough from me. My dignity. My peace. A good ten years off my life. But you don't get the win. Not today."
She took a deep breath. Then another. Then a third, because the first two didn't help.
From behind the door, Caroline called out again, "Max, you alive in there?"
"Not for long," Max croaked.
"You want me to count you down? Or like... play Eye of the Tiger?"
"No music. This is a moment of silence."
Max braced one hand on the sink. Gripped the edge of the wax strip with the other. The bathroom light flickered slightly, as if the universe was also nervous.
She counted. "One… two…"
Then nothing.
The strip didn't move.
She was frozen. Like a statue of Regret and Questionable Grooming Decisions.
From the other side of the door, Caroline spoke again. "Max?"
Max looked at her reflection, eyes wild. "I can't. It knows I'm weak. It's feeding on it. I can feel it growing stronger."
Caroline knocked gently. "Girl, do I need to come in there and pull it for you?"
Max's whole soul screamed, NO. But also… maybe.
"No!" she shouted. "This is mine! My journey! My Everest!"
She straightened her spine. Gritted her teeth. Lifted her chin like a Roman general preparing for battle.
And then, without warning, she ripped.
RIIIIIIIIP.
Silence.
A beat.
Then: "SWEET MERCIFUL BALLS OF ZEUS!"
The door rattled. "Max?!"
Max fell to the floor, legs splayed, arm flopped dramatically over her eyes like she was in a Victorian fainting couch painting. She took shallow, wheezing breaths.
Caroline opened the door a crack. "You done?"
Max didn't move. "I saw God. She was holding a wax strip. She looked disappointed."
Caroline peeked in. Took in the half-naked, dramatically collapsed figure of her best friend.
"Oh, good. You survived."
"Barely. But... It's done."
Caroline walked over and patted her shoulder gently. "Proud of you."
Max lifted her hand, victorious, holding the final strip like a trophy. "The jungle is clear."
They both stared at it for a second.
Caroline nodded solemnly. "Burn it. With fire."
Max dropped her arm. "Now I need an ice pack and maybe someone to lie to me and say I'm still pretty."
"You're gorgeous," Caroline said. "But your vagina's gonna need therapy."
Max groaned. "It already has abandonment issues." She got up on her wobbly limbs and walked out of the bathroom for some cold air.
Caroline handed her a cool bottle of water. "Hydrate. Then maybe later… vibrate."
Max took a sip and muttered, "Hydrate, vibrate, then wax. I broke the sacred order."
"And paid the price."
They both nodded like monks who'd just witnessed divine punishment.
Max sighed and shook her head. "If I ever say I want to wax again…"
"I'll tackle you to the ground."
"Deal."
"Alright," Max walked to the cupboard and took out a plastic bag, then went to the fridge and filled it with ice, and after that went back to the bathroom.
[After Max took a nice cold shower...]
Max stepped out of the bathroom with the grace of a war survivor. Her face was freshly rinsed, hair damp from the cold shower, and her walk still a bit... ginger. She was wrapped in the fluffiest robe they owned: white, oversized, the kind that made you feel like a spa guest instead of a victim of self-inflicted waxing trauma.
The ice pack had helped. Sort of.
Her coochie still throbbed like it was plotting revenge, but at least it wasn't actively crying anymore. Progress.
From the kitchen came the smell of eggs, toast, and something sweet... cinnamon maybe? She followed it like a cartoon hobo floating after a pie on a windowsill.
Caroline was already at the stove, flipping pancakes in a tank top and shorts like she hadn't just heard her best friend scream loud enough to alert Homeland Security. She glanced over her shoulder, grinning.
"Well, well, if it isn't the smooth criminal herself."
Max groaned and flopped into a chair. "I feel like a peeled grape with abandonment issues."
Caroline slid a plate in front of her, scrambled eggs, toast, and two golden pancakes topped with butter and a drizzle of syrup. "Breakfast for the brave. Or the broken."
Max looked at the food like it might heal her soul. "You're a good woman."
"I know," Caroline said, already pouring orange juice. "You want ibuprofen with that or just emotional support?"
"Both. But let's start with carbs."
They continued to eat... A few minutes later...
"Happy birthday, by the way," Caroline said brightly, reaching behind her to grab a small, gift-wrapped box off the counter. She set it next to the syrup.
Max gave her a tired but genuine smile. "Thanks. Nothing says 'new year of life' like screaming in the bathroom and icing your labia."
"You started the day strong. Truly inspirational."
"I wanted to feel reborn, okay?" Max said, drizzling syrup onto the pancakes. "Didn't expect it to be so literal."
Caroline smirked and pointed at the gift. "Open it."
Max popped the lid off the box and pulled out a delicate silver bracelet with a small lightning bolt charm. She blinked. Her expression softened.
"Oh wow. This is… actually really nice."
"It's for surviving the Great Wax Massacre of 2005. I figured you earned some flair after winning a one-woman war."
Max grinned. "Thanks, blondie."
They ate for a few minutes, letting the sugar and carbs work their healing magic. Caroline watched Max for a beat, then leaned in, voice casual in the way that meant absolutely not casual.
"So… what did you and Alex get up to last night?"
Max froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. "Excuse me?"
Caroline raised an eyebrow. "I heard things, Max. Moaning. Dirty talk. Then something about cream. And, unless I'm wrong, a very enthusiastic line about anal."
Max dropped her fork. "Oh my God."
"Oh yes. You forget our walls are thin. I genuinely thought y'all were inventing new positions. I was proud."
Max pressed her palms to her face. "It wasn't real!"
Caroline leaned back. "It sounded real. Oscar-worthy, even."
"Shut up!" Max stuffed her mouth with eggs.
Caroline smirked over her juice glass, eyes glittering with pure menace. "So, Max... be honest... how was it? You know…" she dropped her voice to a theatrical whisper, "backdoor boulevard?"
Max looked up, eyes wide in horror. "Caroline..."
"I need to know," Caroline said, dead serious now, like a journalist chasing a Pulitzer. "Was it like storming the gates of Mordor? Was there weeping? Did your soul try to leave your body?"
Max groaned and slid lower in her chair. "I cannot have this conversation while eating pancakes."
"You can and you will," Caroline said, stabbing her own stack dramatically. "Because if one of us unlocks an achievement, the others deserve a field report. And I gotta be ready when we decide to do the deed."
Max sighed. She took a long sip of orange juice, like it was whiskey and she needed courage. Then she set her glass down, locked eyes with Caroline, and said flatly:
"It felt like being mugged by your own decisions."
Caroline nearly choked on her eggs. "Oh my God."
"No, you don't understand," Max said, now pointing with her fork. "There's prep. There's planning. There's... you know... stretching. Warm-ups. Diplomacy. And Alex, God bless him, was very enthusiastic."
Caroline wheezed, "Was it like a surprise party but for your butthole?"
"Yes!" Max cried. "Exactly! Like, one second we're having a good time, next thing I know he's down there like a man with a mission and I'm just, suddenly praying to every deity I've ever heard of."
Caroline clapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to snort syrup.
Max leaned in. "And the worst part? He was so…supportive. Like, he was doing everything slowly and carefully, minus the intense pain. Like I'm scaling Everest, not taking dick up the wrong exit."
Caroline burst out laughing, nearly tipping her juice. "That's so Alex. Emotional support lover."
"Fully," Max nodded. "At one point, I was so high on pleasure... God! I kinda blacked out after cumming. Anyway, that's all you are going to get out of me. Not a single word more."
"So, was it worth it? Would you… take the scenic route again?" Caroline asked again.
Max thought about it. Took another bite of the pancake. Chewed slowly. Then shrugged. "Honestly? Yeah. Maybe not like... weekly. But on special occasions. With prep. And maybe some kind of commemorative medal afterward."
Caroline leaned back and raised her glass. "To Max's butthole. A brave little soldier."
Max raised her juice. "To Prince Buzzington, for loosening the locks."
They clinked glasses solemnly.
"Wait a sec! Why the hell are we discussing anal sex over breakfast?" Max asked.
"I've no idea. I just wanted to know if it hurt or felt good. But you keep going so, I went with the flow. Thanks for the info, Max," Caroline gave her a thumbs up.
"You are welcome," Max gave a little nod.
Then Caroline grinned. "You know he's gonna ask me next, right?"
Max gave her a look. "Good. Let him. I walked so your cheeks could sprint."
Caroline cackled. "Hydrate, vibrate, then dilate."
Max groaned and covered her face again. "We need a house priest."
---
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[7 advance chs] + [16 chs of Two and a Half Men: Waking up as Charlie Harper] [All chs available for all tiers]
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