Monsters

Asher - Age 17: Self-Discovery

Asher's heart beat fast as he leaned out of his door and listened for any sounds, any emotions, signaling he was no longer alone. 

Empty. 

He quickly locked his door and went to his bed, sliding under the blankets and laying there for a minute. 

He could do this. He could. Most guys used their hands to get off. It was normal. It was natural. It was his body, and his body could be a source of pleasure. 

He still felt extremely apprehensive, but it had been over a year since the homework had been given, and he still hadn't done this part of it. Not that Jackie was weird and asked him about this part in particular or anything, but she'd been right about so much before. This was the only thing he'd not done as instructed, the last wall standing between him and the next step of his recovery.  

"It's a physical need," he murmured to himself, "just like eating. Nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be afraid of. I'm in control. I can feel good. I am in control of my own body. My body can be a source of pleasure. I am in control..." 

His hands inched into his shorts, feeling his body as he went. Asher was mindful of every touch, purposefully focusing on the feeling of his fingertips dancing over the skin of his belly, his hip, his thigh. 

That wasn't...horrible. It was nice, actually, the sensation of fingertips on his skin. If nothing else happened today, he still had that small victory. 

But he wasn't satisfied stopping there. He had to try it today. There might not be another chance like this, when he was home completely alone, for at least another month. 

"Now or never," he whispered, venturing to the part of him he usually pretended didn't exist. 

But he didn't have to live like that for the rest of his life, didn't have to be a prisoner of the trauma he had survived. He would heal, he would become stronger. 

"I'm in control. My body is my own. I am in control." 

He rubbed himself slowly, softly, allowing his body to adjust to the alien touch. Much like his earlier exploration, it didn't hurt. It did feel different though, more intense--like scratching a  peeling sunburn. It was almost so good that it hurt. 

Asher felt his flesh begin to swell in response to the pleasant friction, but instead of lust, he felt a jolt of panic. 

Breathing deeply, he dropped his hand to the bed and began the process of accepting the emotion, examining it, and then using logic to refute it. 

Why did his body's reaction scare him? 

Fear of being hurt by somebody.

He was the only one in the room, and the door was locked. It was his hand touching his own body. He was in his room, in his bed. Asher was in his safe place.

Fear of being weird, different, immoral, and wrong. 

Jackie said sexual desire was another part of growing up. Everybody experienced it, even if they didn't always share all of the same likes and dislikes. He was normal. What he felt was natural. 

And finally the fear, the one that he'd had since hitting puberty:

If he gave in, would it turn him into his father? 

No! He would cut off his own genitals first. He would not become an abuser.  

"I'm in control. My body can be a source of pleasure. I'm in control." 

He started stroking himself again, waiting for the flesh to rise, waiting for the panic to return. 

His body hardened under his hand, but the panic didn't resurface. 

As he continued exploring and rubbing, he focused on how it made his body feel. To his surprise, it did feel good. More than good, actually. 

He felt pressure building deep inside of him, felt a liquid fire in his belly, but it all served to add to the pleasure his hand was generating on his sensitive, erect flesh. 

"This is so much better than a bath, or sunlight, or food," he whispered, moving his hand faster, his eyes wide with wonder. 

The urge to shift his hips hit him, and he slowed his hand, giving into the desire and moaning into his pillow as he did. 

Shit, that was good. 

Jackie hadn't originally said much about masturbation other than including it in the list of activities she wanted him to explore as he claimed his body as his own property. 

He'd finally gotten the courage to ask her last week if she had any tips for him. She told him the best advice she could give was to make sure he was comfortable, that he wasn't rushed, and that when he was ready to touch himself that he should do so without expectations. She'd explained that sometimes it took people months of self exploration and healing to be able to orgasm the first time.

So, Asher hadn't gone into this with that expectation, hadn't really known what to expect from this first time other than just wanting to get it over with.

But now--

He bucked into his hand as he worked himself, awash in the pleasure lighting his nerves on fire and building, ever building. 

He didn't think he could take much more. He felt so close to... something.  

He heard the front door open, and recognized the taste of Bram's energy entering the house.  

His hand stilled for a second. Should he stop? 

Biting his lip, Asher thrust into his hand again.

Asher heard footsteps on the stairs, heard Bram's door open and close. 

Bram couldn't pick up on emotions, but he would hear Asher's elevated heart rate. Should he stop? 

His heart pounded, afraid of being caught, but his body throbbed, begging him to continue. 

No, he decided. What he was doing was private, but it wasn't anything bad. He had the right to feel good, the right to pleasure. What he was doing was natural for most teenage guys. Bram probably did this too. 

For some reason the thought sent a jolt through his body. Interesting.  

He continued to debate within himself about whether or not to continue as he waited to see if Bram would leave. Unable to help himself, he thrust slowly, gasping again at how good it felt. He really, really wanted to see what it felt like to finish, but --

Just as he was about to stop, Bram turned on the radio, cranking up one of those "outlaw" country songs he liked so much. 

Asher sighed in relief, his hand immediately moving against his flesh again. 

He was going to do it, he was going to cum for the first time by his own hand. 

He stroked harder, faster, and finally hit the breaking point. 

The intensity of it caused him to bite down on his pillow to keep from screaming, the veins in his neck stood out as he convulsed again and again.  

He collapsed into the bed, panting in the aftermath. After a second he wiped his wet hand on the shorts he would definitely need to change before leaving his room. 

Asher found himself smiling. He'd done it!  

Jackie had been right again. His body was his to control, and it could bring him pleasure. Even sexual pleasure. 

Asher found himself drifting off to sleep, knowing he still had a long way to go before he won the war but feeling like he'd won one of the most decisive victories of his life.

His body was his own, and maybe, just maybe he would be able to share it with somebody someday.