Date: Sat, 27 Oct 2018 09:59:29 -0500
From: MC VT
Subject: Saints and Gods Bi-Inc/Adult-Youth

Saints and Gods
 ©MCVT2017  June 18, 2018

Humble soul alters lives around him with ancient, divine truths.


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Adult Content:  bi, gay, anal, oral, ped, inc, revelations.
===============================================================

When I graduated from high school in a large city near the east coast, I
wanted to go to college immediately.  My family didn't have the money to
help me at the local junior college so my dad suggested that maybe it would
be better for me to go into a trade.

"White-collar jobs may be scarce for a while with all the layoffs.  Instead
of taking out thousands in student loans set your aim a little lower, and
get some stability first.  From the looks of the county tax revenues after
all the foreclosures, you're going to lose money in the educational
system."

I wanted to become a teacher, but Dad was right - county tax revenues were
down -- all the county services were cut.  Deciding on the condensed
version, I enrolled in a six-week trucking school, learning the laws and
gearshift patterns and did well.  I figured all farmers need to get their
grains and produce to market - OTR driving was always skill to fall back on
if I needed it.

***

Dad and I were always close; he was a god to me.  Being his first born, and
almost the spitting image of him, made me his favorite.  Like all the men
in his family, I was dark haired with a wiry build and a rather heavy coat
of dark hair in my the most masculine places.  I got lucky with his genes -
all male with a deep voice and smart to boot!

Though he'd raised us in a very closed, fundamentalist cult, Dad had
courageously broken away from them and the entire congregation when he
realized the loss of opportunity that me and my brothers would have in
choosing our careers paths.  My brother had opted to study music on full
scholarship at a prestigious university and was threatening to leave the
family if he couldn't continue with his passion.

I clearly remember the night Dad announced our separation to the
congregation.  He said he'd invested too much of his life into our health
and happiness to continue with the false limitations of the group - and
classical music was beautiful and as much a divine gift as any hymn we sang
in church.  He clearly stated he trusted his kids - all the religious
restrictions weren't divine missives at all, he'd studied the texts.  They
were plain and simple power plays to keep all the wealth in the inner
circle of church leadership.  With that said, he walked us out of the
sanctuary forever!

But Dad was a patient and quiet man, he made a way for my brothers and I to
imagine new worlds ahead of us and we finally breathed the sweet air of
freedom.  His courage and strength liberated us from a lot of unspoken
restrictions but mostly he released my brothers and me to create our own
lives.

Why did he wait so long?

***

With a small bag in hand, I kissed Mom goodbye and started at the bottom of
the ladder of drivers with a large distribution chain driving the highways
across the nation.

That was my first time out of the state where I was born, and the
landscapes were incredibly interesting.  Odd, historic houses and old barns
- pastures of horses and cows, silos standing proudly alongside a shed of
tractors and harvesters...  Hard to believe these landscapes fed a nation
of millions year after year.  From my vantage in the cab, I could see
across the acres of crops in the early morning fog, and enjoyed the vistas
of the Smoky Mountains, then the Rocky Mountains.

Long hours on the road were lonely - the radio and rest stops broke my
isolation somewhat.  Rest stops - some of them were vile, supreme dens of
iniquity!  Dad taught me that it was better to remain innocent and clean
than infected or jailed.  The slack morals that the denizens of these stops
practiced would bring nothing but heartache eventually.  I saw his wisdom
and kept my nose clean.  But it wasn't so hard; saving money and biding
time for the economy to improve so I could get into college was my
ever-present goal.

I'll admit I rather enjoyed the truck stops; hot food, a shower and some
rest.  Food was a little boring and greasy, but that put me to sleep in the
back of my cab until I had to get on the road again.

One particular truck stop I really enjoyed was Valentine's - outside of
Evergreen City in a far western state.

Evergreen City sat in the middle of some of the flattest land I'd ever
driven, and I always had trouble staying awake and alert - the drive was
incredibly monotonous.  So, I'd turn on a local radio station and set my
sights on getting out, cleaning up and enjoying an iced tea with some of
the locals at the liar's table.

That kept me focused well enough through thousands of acres of scrub and
desert landscapes.  Though it may not seem like any big deal to you,
Valentine's was a welcomed break for me - the service and food was good and
the people friendly.

The usual hustles and scams always haunted the stops, and I ignored them,
stretching and breezing into the restaurant area to check out the lunch
specials.  With hours to kill in the heat of summer, I decided to eat,
sleep and wait till dark to put in about thirty minutes of running the
perimeter of the parking lot before I showered and left in the night.

***

Planning my evening and next day, I entered the information into my phone.
Everything is satellite-tracked now and my engine was monitored for when it
was pulling weight or sitting idle, so I had to keep on top of my logs or
pay a fine.  While I studied my screen, tapping the right numbers, two
waitresses approached, both around fifteen, but giggling and smiling with
the glow of youth.

A large and very strong religious group controlled this part of the country
- the girls were clean-scrubbed and had their hair pulled back into
ponytails with fuzzy ties that matched their heart-pocked blouses and
aprons - prim and demure.

"Do I look so hungry I need two waitresses?"  I asked, teasing them.

"She's in training."  The shorter one said, her name badge read "Esther."

The taller girl grinned and blushed.  "My first day."  Her name was "Chaz."

"Okay Ms. Chaz, describe the luncheon special - the sign said vegetarian
lasagna."

She looked around the area for a few seconds until Esther spoke up.  "It's
lasagna, you know, pasta and cheese with spinach, zucchini and mushrooms."
She stated concisely.

"Any fresh vegetables or all frozen?"  I asked.  My tongue hadn't tasted a
fresh vegetable since Biloxi.

"It comes ready-made from the plant, we heat and serve."  Esther knew the
kitchen well.

"Ms. Chaz, could you find some fresh vegetables in the kitchen?  I'd like a
big salad with v and o."

She looked at me.  "V and o?  Is that a drink?  We don't serve alcohol in
here."

"Vinegar and oil dressing, knuckle-head.  I'll show you."  Esther said that
a salad would only take a few moments.  "Be right back."  They trotted off
with Esther briskly striding ahead and motioning for Chaz to follow.

A few moments later they returned with a platter mounded high with salad
greens, sliced hard-boiled eggs, grated cheese, actual red, ripe tomatoes,
cucumbers, celery and fruit slices along with a basket of bread and
crackers.

Chaz forgot the cruets.  I didn't remind her - she seemed overwhelmed with
all the truckers and tourists asking for more iced tea, water and the
extras she'd forgotten.

Burying my face in the eight-page local newspaper, I enjoyed my salad with
lemon, salt and pepper and found that the local veterinarians were on guard
for Brucellosis that summer; "Valley Fever on the Rise!"  Had to check out
the ages of the old folks that died - almost a hundred years old, each of
them...  There were a number of social events, an arts festival and outdoor
concerts in the park.

Sheesh!  Sit outside and watch a gang of sweaty musicians grunt out music
from the last century?  I guess you become accustomed to the heat...

When I'd finished my reading, I looked up to see the lunch rush had gone,
and several of the waitresses were cleaning up, filling the salt and pepper
shakers and napkin holders, readying for their shift to end.  There was
Chaz, counting out a few coins in tips and listening to Esther chastise her
about every tiny detail she'd missed.

As I passed by, I slipped a ten into the pocket of Chaz' apron with my
phone number written in the margin - text me so I'll know when you're
working.  Tomorrow's going to be better, I'm sure."

"Thanks, mister."  She shook my hand.

"Amias."

"What?  You can't be us, you're you."  She was confused.

"My name's Amias.  Are you going to work the morning shift?  I'll be back
through in a few days, and I'll stop by and grade your progress," I
chuckled.

"No, I'm working swing shifts."  She smiled at me and sighed.  "If I'm
still here."  I nodded and left to the cab of my truck for my dirty
laundry.

After I finished washing, I saw an old pickup truck pull behind the
restaurant.  A slender woman with light hair and a straw hat unloaded
several crates of vegetables.  Chaz came out the back door and get into the
truck before it left.

***

Six months later, Chaz and I were engaged - I was twenty, she was sixteen.
Before we could marry, I continued driving and attended classes in her
religion via my computer.  Yeah, I recognized the same manipulations I was
raised in, and didn't say anything but I was as stubborn as my dad was
about our future children and keeping a good home for my family.

My parents came out for the wedding, and everyone got along well.  Chaz'
parents welcomed me warmly - I think they were glad to get rid of another
mouth to feed.  I had to wonder why Chaz wasn't already married, but her
father pulled me aside after the nuptials and told me that Chaz might be a
little peculiar in the bedroom, but a man has his privileges and the duty
to multiply.

When I asked her about her peculiarities, she just smiled and told me she'd
be faithful to me as a wife, but she liked women as much as men. When I
asked further about her dual preferences, she giggled.  "Don't worry, I'm
looking forward to making a family - sometimes I just have a taste for
women."

"That's all?"  I wondered.

"Yep."  She said, grinning.  "But it's a sin - I'll try to resist
temptation."

Well, I'd seen enough porn to know that might be fun, and I'd heard enough
hard-luck stories about unfaithful wives from other truckers, so I
considered this great luck.  A young wife in full bloom could satisfy her
feminine needs while I was on the road without repercussions.

"Just keep your proclivities discreet."  I told her.

"Okay."  She kissed me and the photographer took another photo.  "What's a
proclivity - is that like my clitoris?"

"Honey, I only ask you to keep your fun in private.  Can you do that?"

"Like I do now?"

"More than you do now.  You can have your women but keep it at home and
keep it your deepest secret."

"Okay."  She said and squeezed her fourteen-year-old cousin's hand and mine
at the same time.

Two for the price of one...

***

Mom and Dad were especially pleased with my marriage since the church had
offered me a delivery job traveling the state making deliveries at each of
the different churches and picking up their paperwork and goods to return.
I'd be home every weekend to fulfill my husbandly duties and perhaps some
familial duties with that little brunette Chaz was infatuated with.

Sometimes I hauled peanut butter from the lowlands, sometimes clothing for
distribution to needier families in the congregations.  Chaz' church had a
highly organized system to take care of the needs of their members.

I always arrived home with a pocket full of condoms.  Though Saints of the
church often texted me to encourage me to start my family, I wanted to get
my degree and teach, and for "Chaz," Chastity to graduate from high
school. She was a bright girl without a place to really shine inside the
severe limitations the church placed on her gender.

By delaying parenthood, I earned some respect from a few men; I had stood
up to the pastor and his constant hounding for me to reproduce.  But I had
solid plans and the self-control to follow through on improving my life for
my family.  Surprisingly, that didn't go unnoticed by the women.

Four years later, I graduated from the small, local college with a degree
in Education and Math, then passed my certifications with flying colors -
seems like half the town turned out along with my parents to celebrate.
Chastity continued working at Valentines and slowly worked her way through
her classes then graduated high school with little fanfare except from a
gaggle of cousins who brought food and gifts.

I applied for work at the county school district.

***

Soon, I started at the local school district teaching Math in to sixth,
seventh and eighth graders - the elementary, middle and high school were
separate but on the same campus.

Chaz was pregnant during her first year at college, but we saved enough to
have our child in some sort of style. Her family helped and the community
passed along baby equipment and clothing, but still it was an added expense
on a teacher's salary.

Though our rent was low, I found a way to bring in the extra income we
needed.  I converted our garage into a classroom and tutored at night, then
opened a test preparation service and almost doubled our income quickly -
no competition in the area.  The fact that I did so well with my part-time
job flummoxed me.  In a small town, small schools, small classes you'd
think the kids would excel with all the attention.  I thought the students
would just need a little help, but the material wasn't the problem.  Mostly
the boys, but some of the girls had problematic attitudes.

Why should they learn?  It didn't matter about their talents or passions,
they'd get married, get pregnant and the church would give them a menial
job, help with housing and that's the end of their young lives -
religiously railroaded to Nowheresville.  In forty or fifty years a select
few would become Saints in the church - but most wouldn't.

Taking a bold step, I brought this up in the meeting with the Saints of the
church.  "The kids don't have much hope other than raising kids on welfare
and some unskilled job, leaning on the church for what they need.  Now,
these kids are smart - healthy and bright enough but they don't seem to be
very enthusiastic about their futures."  I went on, offering them some
ideas about taking your kid to work, scholarships, mentoring programs and
so forth.

Well, that didn't help.  Most of the Saints of the church in our area had
little education and a narrow perspective.  People with degrees left and
found better work in the capital, setting their sights higher than being
redneck Saints in a dusty, jerk-water town.  The educated guys were gunning
for national and international positions of power inside the religious
community in the capital or abroad.

The Saints sitting around the table listened to my spiel quietly and said
nothing in response.  Their children showed up to class with bruises and
most didn't sit down for their tutoring the next few weeks.

***

Chastity got a degree in accounting and continued to take a few more
classes in biology.  She wanted to buy a house with a lot, make a big
garden and have another child.

All Chaz' education was disquieting to the Saints - they didn't like Chaz
and me upsetting their control over the members' lives.  We were a bad
example of obedience to their sanctified decisions.  My knees didn't bend
easily in front of their altar, but I went through the motions for my
family.

I understood their power system, and I also understood the other power
system at work.  Though the women don't hold the power in public, they do
in private, and their networks of influence to make change are deep, strong
currents that you need to respect - they can be dangerous because their
power is often unnoticed until it comes crashing down on you.

The men of our church never fully accepted me because I didn't have five
children already and my wife was educated, but my home was happy and, in my
opinion, we were doing very well.  If it weren't for Chastity being related
to so many locals, we'd both be complete outcasts in the small, hot town.

Chastity was a good wife, I trusted her because we were both honest about
our wants.  We planned our lives together and adapted when we needed.  My
marriage was much like my parent's was - we faced our problems together
though most were small things we could get through them easily.

Some of the evening adaptations with her cousin were incredible.

***

During the fifth year of our marriage, my son, Royal was a rambunctious
little snot, almost walking and busy as all get out.  Strong boy, with
roses in his cheeks and beautiful green eyes, thick, dark hair.  He was my
angelic boy with thick eyelashes and carmine Cupid's bow lips.

After a few disagreements, I'd convinced Chaz to let his dark, straight
hair grow out until he started school.  He ran barefoot and without a shirt
most of the time to my delight - he was enjoying the freedom of his youth
and his laughter was enthralling.

Since I wasn't working in the summers, I went back to driving the state for
a few weeks to deliver packages, giving the other driver time off.  With
Royal riding alongside me or sleeping on the seat we cruised the state.
Chaz packed us lunches and we stopped at a different city each day to see
what was going on in the other areas.

Then, after counting pennies, I took Chaz and Royal to visit my parents.
Mom and Dad had started their own businesses outside the congregation
they'd left.  Dad had started hiring crews of day laborers and installing
residential irrigation systems with timers to cut water use and reduce
maintenance.

Mom had a greenhouse.  At first she only raised decorative plants, but she
changed over quickly following the money and grew sprouts - yeah, the
alfalfa, sunflower, radish sprouts for sandwiches and salads.  Every Monday
and Friday Mom and one of her friends delivered her fresh stock to the
local health food stores and restaurants.

Mom's friend was one of the mouthiest people on the block, but don't think
Mom was a fool taking her along.  When they delivered the sprouts, her
friend brought home-made cookies and shared them with the restaurant staff
and found out what the restaurants needed while Mom stocked the coolers and
took more orders.  Mom's deliveries were a mini-social affair with the
kitchen staff.

Mom was readying to start a new section of the greenhouse for gourmet
micro-greens to up her income during the winter months.  Her friend was
readying to open a whole-grain bakery.  Women are more social with their
businesses - no high-pressure sales pitches, just a quick chat with cookies
and smiles -- building trust and priming their pumps for a coming contract.

When Chaz went with them, she saw first-hand how Mom and her friend were
building their business network and was inspired.  Chaz went over Mom's
accounting while Dad and I took Royal to dig for worms and go fishing the
next day.

Great dinner that night; incredible sex, too!

***

Back at home, Chaz started taking on accounting work, and I put a new
computer on payments for her with the stipulation that she make the
payments each month.  That worked out very well, though she had to visit
two clients nightly.

Her biggest client was Valentine's Truck Stop!  Chaz went back to the truck
stop every night and organized all the bank deposits for the owner as Royal
and I enjoyed an ice cream or talked to Esther.

Like Mom, Chaz was genial and talked with the other gals finding more
bookkeeping work for an in-home childcare provider and a guy that rebuilt
small engines.  Being the ballsy gal she'd become, Chaz submitted a
proposal to handle the accounting work for a small protestant church and
got it!

Slowly we were carving out our own niche in the rigid control the church
held over the town.

***

The semester started and I quailed at the returning students - the older
boys were different - belligerent or sleeping and the bullying hit new
levels I hadn't seen before.  Crack from the West Coast had hit Evergreen
City.  Seemed like the school campus was the center of the drug use.

Some of the girls sported bruises and other gals receded as far into the
background as possible.  The hallways were something of a war zone so
teachers had to stand outside their classroom doors monitoring the kids -
like that would do any good.

Since the director of the school board was one of the Saints in the church,
I brought this up during the next meeting with the men of the church.

"Give us the names of the bullies.  If they're in the church, we'll deal
with it here."  The pastor told me.  "We've seen this before and we have
our ways."  He added that the district had suspension policies to deal with
the other bullies.

The school administration must have sent a list of the boys who were
causing so many problems.  Several boys disappeared for several days in
suspension.

***

The next Sunday, Chaz, Royal and I dressed for church and drove into the
parking lot to see the strangest thing.  There were crowds of people
standing behind their cars waiting for something.  As I pulled into a space
on the edge of the hot asphalt, we saw a line of about twenty-five young
men in only their strange white underwear walking through the lot with big
hand-lettered signs hanging around their necks, "I'm a bully."  Other signs
read, "I destroy god's temple with drugs."  Several read, "Fornicator."

The young men, heads down, circled the parking lot several times led by the
Saints of the church, prodding them along and calling people to see the
damned boys.

Fortunately, the church bell rang calling all to services before the
barefooted, half-naked boys burned their feet on the asphalt.  When the
congregation was seated and the opening prayer said, the organ started up a
march as the young sweaty men, now with their underwear sticking to their
bodies with sweat marched up the aisle escorted by the Saints toward the
altar.

As each young man was called forward by name, his parents and siblings
stood where they were in the pews, shamed and blushing as well.  Under a
thorough quizzing from the pastor, every young man had to answer for his
labeling and explain how his errant behavior impacted his life, his family,
the church and the lord almighty.

Some of the boys sobbed, and admitted they'd done drugs and asked for
forgiveness for their sins.  A few of the boys were snide - obviously
without remorse. Some of the older boys were forced to admit they'd gotten
high and screwed some of the girls or tried to.  Some of the wags had
beaten the girls into submission.

Several of the boys with drug problems promised to go to the capital for a
church-run rehabilitation program for a month or two.

The congregation chuckled when the boys sported boners through their thin,
damp underwear, but I knew humiliation and shame wouldn't change any
attitudes.  The older boys would probably become runaways.  I'd seen
hundreds of them in the truck stops and along the highways.  They'd usually
wind up selling their bodies for their next hit and wind up on the streets
of larger cities homeless and more hopeless than ever.

On the way home, I told Chaz that Royal was going to start home schooling
on the computer.  "No way am I going to allow that kind of punishment
happen to my son."  Royal was a smart boy, and very loving - he lived to
please me; I lived to love him.

Monday morning at school I met with a changed group of students - they were
very quiet.  I figured the bullying simply became more covert.  Some of the
boys had left for rehab, the others had simply left.  More of the girls
dropped out - terrorized or pregnant.

***

Moving through the holidays, the problem started up again, bullying, drugs
and belligerence throughout the middle and high school was rife.  I took it
as a sign of increasing hopelessness among the kids; the Saints took it as
a sign of rebelliousness against their sacred order.

At the next meeting of the Saints the issue of bullying and drugs came up
again.  Some of the Saints suggested more recreational activities like
baseball or basketball.  Some suggested more punishment and humiliation.
More than a few wanted to put them through some kind of a boot camp up in
the mountains - survival training alone in the wilderness.

None of that addressed the real issues - the kids were chattel - excess
evidence of the potency of the Saints.  These youth would have to wait in
poverty for years in a super-strict lifestyle before they could hope for a
place of respect in family, church or community.

These kids were the future Saints that would run the church?  God save us!
But what was sitting around the table with me now?  Former excesses and the
end results of power plays among the more "righteous" families.

Another covert issue not discussed, but all too common in the community was
plural marriage.  The old geezers snapped up the potential wives of the
young men.  Some of the Saints had seven or eight wives and huge flocks of
children.  The Saints were constantly on the prowl for a twelve, thirteen
or fourteen-year-old girl to take their sacred "rod and staff," and then
clean house for the other wives.

***

To my surprise, this meeting didn't run downhill into a gully of zilch
again.  The Saints faces paled when an elderly Saint stood at the back of
the room and approached the table, commanding the attention of all the men.

Saint "Obee" or Obadiah was the oldest of the Saints and was a wealth of
information on the current Saints - information or dirt, depending on your
perspective.

"Time for a change, you old toadies."  He started.

"The only thing these boys have to look forward to is marrying their
cross-eyed cousins in Orin - probably a half-sister and then making a lot
more little genetic problems in diapers while mooching off the state and
the church.  Where's the pride in that?

"You own the businesses - and milk them for every dime you can with
immigrant labor.  You control every part of these kids' lives for your own
benefit and hold them in place with horrific punishments.  Shameful to see
you parading the boys of Evergreen City being so humiliated for your
self-aggrandizement."

He paused and looked around the room at each face.  "Now, I remind you that
a drug-addicted child will feel desperate in these situations - only a
matter of time...

"Desperate people do desperate things - you may be cutting your own
throats.  Gotta give the kids some power in their own lives and in the
church.  I suggest the age to begin Sainthood training start at ten, give
the kids their training wheels to take our places.  Don't wait till they're
twenty."

The men groused a bit, but the old man continued, "Either you give them
some power in their own lives and some control over their futures or you
might feel a knife at your throat.  Every one of you knows our church has a
very violent history, and we're filled with enough imbeciles and hotheads
to make your life cheaper than dirt.  You know who and what I'm talking
about."

Then he sat down.

"Kindergarten for Saints..."  I muttered imagining a room full of boys
learning cooperative decision-making and strategic planning.  Maybe, with
training, they could impart enough sense into the next generation to alter
the course of history in Evergreen City.

The brother sitting next to me smiled.  "Wonderful idea - Kindergarten for
Saints."

The eldest Saint continued in front of the silent group, "Start giving
those boys an internship in your businesses and require them to go to the
university.  If you want to leave a legacy, better prepare the keepers of
that legacy...  And about your parenting - there's no way we're going to
keep the spirit of the church alive when you shame the boys in front of
everyone.  Humiliation doesn't build pride.  Let the boys learn and grow
and be proud of themselves and their achievements or," he lowered his head
and lifted an eyebrow, "I'll make another revelation."

Sure didn't know what his last revelation was about, but he had the rapt
attention of all the old fogies sitting around the table and they were
afraid.  Some of the men blushed, or maybe that was their blood pressure
rising - most were thirty or more pounds overweight and at least a few of
those pounds were some kind of secret they were carrying.

I couldn't be a saint, as I wasn't born into the church, but that didn't
stop the Saints from giving me some hassle.  Before I left the room, one of
them pulled me aside and told me I needed to take Chaz down a notch or two.
To let her know who was in control, "You know she's talking to my wife
about going into business together."

Staring back at him, "Not going to squelch her work ethic or destroy her
dreams - they could be a divine mission she has to fulfill."

I turned on my heel and left feeling much stronger after I'd heard Saint
Obee speak.

If this was their game, maybe I could have a revelation of my own!

***

Chaz, Royal and I were in bed readying for our nightly reading about the
saints of the past when she suggested the most peculiar thing:

"Honey, I've been talking with the women..."

The women's power was about to assert itself, "Is this about your business?
Seems like you're doing well so far."

"Well, no.  My niece and I were talking the other day, and I want to start
a secret business."

"A secret business - yeah?  What kind?  Lingerie parties?"

"No..."  She paused, hesitant, "Condom sales.  The women don't want their
daughters to have to be married so young because they're pregnant.  We can
stall the Saints when they want a young girl by saying she's being
reprogrammed from being a lesbian - that holds the geezers off for a while.
But the women don't want their girls having to drop out of school so young
- the girls don't have any life other than making babies.  The girls need
protection and you know the clinic won't give them any pills."

"The Saints would never go for condom sales.  No sex before marriage."  I
reminded her.

"That's why it's a secret business."

"Work up the numbers for me with a business plan.  We'll discuss it
tomorrow."  That was a refreshing approach to some of the problems among
the youth.

Chastity did - and it only required fifty dollars, to start.  The women
already had collected the money.  Chaz handed me a brown envelope filled
with change and one-dollar bills as the start-up funds.

Before I knew it, I was keeping a supply of male condoms in the left side
of my desk, and female condoms in the right-side drawer.  The kids left
what they could afford - only a few coins if anything at all.  As long as I
stuffed the rest of the condoms in my book bag before I left the room, no
one was the wiser - I kept a supply of yellow #2s sharpened in the front of
the condoms so it looked like the kids just needed another pencil when they
came to my desk.

Within several months, I'd must have gained ten pounds from the pies and
cakes the mothers brought to our house in thanks.  More girls stayed in
school and the general atmosphere on campus improved slowly but clearly.

Chaz didn't make any money with that venture, but we kept it going using
the students I tutored as distribution outlets to the high school campus to
make the condoms more available to more students.

Then, Chaz approached me with another business plan, "Honey, I know our
Royal is a gift from God, and one we planned.  Worked out very well...  I
was talking with the women and..."

"What is it they want now?"

"Sex ed for their kids - something about relationships.  I told them how
careful you are - how gentle.  They want their kids to be more like you
than the Saints - seems there's a lot of domestic violence with Sainthood -
coercion and the like."

"We could get excommunicated for trying that."  My voice was flat - being
excommunicated would be all right with me.  I stayed in Evergreen City only
because Chaz' family was very close, and that cousin of hers was born with
an incredible anomaly.

"Let's pray on that, but I think we can make a way somehow."  She
whispered.

For a moment, I thought I could sense a lot of women in bed with their
husbands talking the same topic from an entirely different slant.

***

At the next meeting the Saints asked me to work on a curriculum with Saint
Obee creating a series of classes for nine to twelve-year-old boys -
Kindergarten for Saints!  The focus of the classes was love of god and
obeying commandments including various divine revelations.

"Ah ha!"  I thought.  Somehow supernatural or female forces collided and
succeeded, but I'd have to come up with some lesson plans for young boys
that would challenge and inform them as well as show them a respectful
nature when their hormones burst through their bodies demanding constant
dermal attention.

My unlikely ally, Saint Obee must have worked overtime along with the women
to get this request brought forward, though I suspected the Saints only
wanted a whitewashing where their power had been marred by the dissatisfied
youth.

Saint Obee came over to the house and we began laying out some ideas in
front of the computer with Royal on Obee's lap.  The old man had Royal
charmed in moments, and they were laughing and enjoying themselves when I
saw the old man fondling Royal's junk while they whispered and giggled.

I stopped the lesson plans and asked the old man just what the hell he was
doing with my son.

"Relaxing him.  He doesn't mind."  He whispered to Royal it was time for
bath and a bed.

"Already?"  Royal frowned.  "Can Mr. Obee stay over tonight?  I want him to
sleep with me."

"See."  Obee said.  "Boys need a lot of attention - tons of affection."

I stared at him.  "You touched my boy.  He's not ready for that, and when
he is, it would be better if it were with someone his own age."

"Physical touch is a teaching tool - boys need to know about their bodies
especially when they're growing and changing so fast.  Physical attention
helps them through the transitions.  You're going to need the "man maker"
soon with this one.  I suspect he's a precocious little elf - so bright and
so curious..."

"Man-maker?"  I asked.

"I'll look around for it - probably still under the altar where I left it."

"Man maker?  What's that?"

"An ivory, um - well, let's call it an introduction device of sorts...  No,
wait - it's an indoctrination implement.  Years ago, we used it on all the
kids before they hit puberty and educated them about - um, their bodily
changes.  The boys loved it and it helped them become some fine men - most
of those men work in the capital now."  His hand stroked along Royal's
short cock, and he caressed the boy's balls while Royal closed his eyes
enjoying this surprising pleasure.

My mind went back to my youth, though I'd never admit it, my brothers and I
enjoyed mutual oral and anal gratification for years though the church
would have damned and personally escorted us to hell if they found out.
Mom and Dad never said anything as though our sexual experimentation was as
normal as rain in spring.

"Didn't the kids ever snitch when you used it on them?"  I asked,
suspecting the "man maker" was simply a dildo.

"The boys loved it - asked for it, then came back and asked for more.  I
don't know about the girl's program, but this was during a time when things
were more open in the church."  He stopped.  "Maybe they were more private
than open, but I do remember the revelations and the texts are in the
archives.  It was all sanctified - sure.  I felt like it acted like a
pressure-relief valve for the young male libidos."

"Let's get those old revelations out and update the ideas."  I said but I
knew this whole sanctified ritual was a faƧade for some ancient
pagan customs.

Saint Obee left that night with a spring in his step, and I took Royal on
my lap.

"You liked Saint Obee rubbing your little cock?"

"Yeah, why don't you ever do that?"

I could remedy Royal's newly found need - and the little bugger had the
most charming mini-orgasm underneath my hand.

***

With pen and computer, I combed through the history, revelations and books
that Saint Obee marked for my curriculum.  Seems like polygamy was the
least of the sexual practices and the popes and bishops of other religions
had nothing on us!  All this information made Chaz' proclivities almost
innocent.

There were hints about male rituals, but not much until I found a
dictionary of sorts that helped me understand the English used from almost
two hundred years ago.  Then, I went to Chaz and asked her about any coming
of age rituals she knew about.

"At menarche the women celebrate, usually at home, but the other girls and
women come and talk about how to deal with the men.  Mostly, the older
women tell the girls to just close your eyes and think about someone else.
Usually some old prune gets the youngest girls, so we tell them to give him
a good workout and hope he has a heart attack.  Then, the girls' dads tell
them to stay away from the men and boys because they have infections and a
child out of wedlock would shame them..."

"What about the boys?"  I asked.

"How would I know about that?  Ask my dad."  She suggested.

Chaz' dad was a Saint, and I avoided their sick clique so I went to Saint
Obee who seemed delighted at reviving the old rituals and chomping at the
bit to get started.

In the next meeting of the Saints, Saint Obee touted my curriculum as one
that would transform rebelliousness into love for god.  When questioned
about the actual rites, he only said that it was the same he'd experienced
when he was young.  Furthermore, his five wives and twenty-three children
were all still in the church and all his boys were doing very, very well.

***

Saint Obee and I recreated two rituals - one for the older teens and
another for pre-pubescent boys.  We would start with the older boys where
the need for change was greatest, taking them in groups of threes to the
top of a local hill in the state park during the full moon for dramatic
effect and to cut any urban distractions.

Starting with three of the toughest teens, we trekked to the mountain with
a box of supplies.  The boys were silent, miffed at having to give up their
Friday night recreation, and having to pray all night with a couple of
adults who were going to change their minds.  The teens were stubborn and
silent as they carried the old wooden chest for Saint Obee.

The boys did occasionally offer us a few molecules of respect through their
silence.  I imagine they were curious about what was going to happen.
After all, they were going out into the dark with their teacher who
supplied them with condoms, so they kept most of their snide remarks to
themselves.  We built a small campfire and sat around talking for a few
moments.

I asked them to define manhood for me while Obee opened a bottle of wine -
a nice red wine he said he made in his basement for a quick communion
asking for a cleansing of sins.  The more they communed with more wine, the
more the boys prattled on spouting the religious party line, slurring and
giggling until Saint Obee asked if they were practicing what they said so
they'd be good men when they came of age.

Their mouths fell open, unable to answer or perhaps the buzz from the
alcohol.  That was my cue to ask them what kind of men they wanted to be if
they weren't in the church.

Saint Obee explained them he had joined the military against his father's
wishes and had traveled the world and even mentioned some of his escapades
in the orient.  The kids were in awe.  They'd assumed the old man had toed
the party line all of his life on his knees in front of the altar.  I could
almost feel the enlightenment fill their minds, sparks of imagining life
flew outside their prickly confines.

Then Obee told them that they were cowards for not finding ways to become
the men they wanted to be.  "Nothing but sniveling, childish cowards!
Gotta be smarter to outwit the beast that has you cornered.  Tonight, we're
going to drive the fear out of you.  All of it."

With that, I introduced more about being cornered by a beast:

"You think you got it bad? Look at the women, the girls - they're more
restricted than you are.  At school you bully the girls and the little kids
because they're easy to intimidate - you're the beast that corners them.
How does that help you?  The vulnerable people around you aren't your
problem - leave them alone and address your real problems.  Time you face
down your own beasts.  Knowledge is power and it's time to wise-up."

The teens stopped to consider their cowardice; Obee prayed briefly and I
pulled a few things out of the chest and put them in my pockets.

"Who's gonna be first?"  Obee asked.

The smallest teen jumped up - he was thin and just a little over five feet
and always seemed spring-loaded.

That was Trey, one of my best students.  He was the smartest of the boys
and I felt like he was just going along with the troublemakers to avoid
their name-calling at school.  He'd never been to my desk for a condom,
wasn't sure why.  Maybe he had more control over his hormones, but I
suspected otherwise.

I walked him to a large rock near the top of the mountain with a
flashlight, about two hundred yards up the side of the hill to a rocky
outcropping.

On the hilltop, "Take your clothes off."  I told Trey and began undressing
myself.  "The lord is in this place." I lit a small candle and burned some
of the sage I pulled from alongside the rocky trail passing it around my
body, then his.

"Put the blanket on the rock."  I instructed him while I found a dried
branch from a creosote tree and skinned the rough places off of it with my
pocketknife while the kid's eyes got as big as the moon above us.

"What are you going to do to me?"  The kid asked - his voice shaky and his
hands covering his groin.

"Saint Obee's going to perform the ritual.  I've never seen it before, but
it seems to work."  I patted his shoulder.  "Whatever happens, remember -
Obee survived and I'm sure you will, too."  This was getting to be more
entertaining as the night progressed - I finally had some power, albeit
second in command to Obee.

Trey leaned over and whispered to me, "I think I'm gay.  I don't want to
leave the church - or my family...  Understand?"

Gay didn't bother me after my all the sex with my brothers and living with
Chaz' penchants, and I knew it could lead to Trey's excommunication, so I
went into my "Padre Amias" role.

Leaning forward I kissed him on his lips, holding him against my body, "Yet
another child of god.  I'm sure there are thousands in the church,
statistically there must be around five or six thousand at least.  There's
a way, my son."

I felt his warm body relax, skin moist in the night air.  He nodded.

Obee came with his flashlight and stripped quickly, sporting a thin but
very erect cock.

Under the moonlight and the little candle placed near the teen's head,
Saint Obee prayed and I began anointing the teen's body with oil, asking
for divine burst of courage and removal of fear by the early Saints and all
the angels in heaven.  Obee called down all the spiritual forces he knew -
and some from Greek and Roman mythology as well but the kid didn't know
that.

Handing Trey the branch I'd skinned, I told the boy Trey to lie down and
grip the ends and bring his ankles up underneath it, exposing his rear.  My
hands anointed his tender ball sac and downward, applying a heavy coat of
oil to his ass and gently pushing some inside, mumbling a prayer the whole
time.  The old Saint continued supplicating loudly- naked and shouting his
prayers then began slapping the boy's bottom with every skyward request.

The boy cooed, obviously drunk, entranced, and looking forward to receiving
courage of any kind through his rear.  Saint Obee obliged and calling on
the lord for the staff of Marconi, a divine figure in the church's history,
he put his finger at the boy's tight anal closure and pushed.

"Let me hear you pray, boy!  Ask god for a brave heart, and a strong sense
of spiritual direction.  Beg for your manhood!"  Obee demanded.  I stepped
aside to watch this.

The kid started begging god for courage, his voice twined with Saint Obee's
entreaties as Obee stepped forward with his erect penis aimed directly at
the boy's hole.  With his hot glans at the boy's tight hole, Obee told the
boy if he let go of the stick or moved his body while the seeds of courage
were being administered, he'd have to ask the angels for help again - I
guess that meant getting a few more swats.

The boy nodded and prayed louder, begging for courage and Obee plunged
forward, but stopped.  "Don't resist the gifts of the spirit - holy gifts!"

The boy shrieked as Obee buried his righteousness in the boy's hot, tight
ass with one determined push, "Saint's be praised, what a brave soul!"

Grunting and praising the heavens, it didn't take long for Obee to push the
branch further back lifting the teen's rear higher so Obee's glans stroked
along the boy's prostate.

With the moonlight shining off the skin of the two sweaty bodies, I watched
as Obee planted the seeds of virtuous valor deeply into the boy's belly
while a pearly burst of semen hit the boy's face and chest; blessed spunk
no doubt.

Prayers of thanks rose from both their throats at the same time in glorious
union!  They were still for a moment while I walked around the rock
flicking droplets of holy water on them and considering what an ol' fox
that Obee was - he was as slick as any televangelist was and twice as
convincing.

As we dressed, Obee told the teen to visit him again anytime he felt weak
or needed to be exceptionally brave.  "Anytime your tender heart needs
another boost of courage, I've got the celestial pipeline."

As we walked back to the fire, I mentioned that the teen might be a rare
gem among the lord's men.

Obee smiled, "My kind of man.  Come see me after services on Sunday.  Tell
your dad you're in need of special counseling."

Tugging at the seat of his jeans and walking funny, Trey smiled and kissed
Saint Obee as we went for the next teen.

***

The other two rituals went the same, though not quite as smoothly, with the
boys accusing us of trying to make them an abomination - that means
homosexual.  But Obee countered that the teens weren't grateful for the
gifts of god - this was a common practice they could use with their
girlfriends and their special male friends if they needed relief.

"Your mom has babies, right?"  Obee asked one boy.

"She's always got one in the oven and another in the crib."  The kid spat
at him.

"Save your sandwich bag from lunch and put some of the diaper rash ointment
in it - that white kind.  It works as good as the anointing oil.  Women
love to be filled with your courage - it may take a little convincing so be
gentle at first..."  The old saint advised.

Light bulbs lit in the kids' heads as they expanded their sexual options.

Every month we took several more of the teens up to the mountaintop to
receive heavenly seeds of courage, and Saint Obee's informal counseling
center was busy.

***

The atmosphere at the school changed - I started seeing more homework
turned in on time and grades improved.  I realized that the old dodger was
right - boys need physical attention and thrive on mastering their bodies
and the rapid-fire changes happening inside them.

The men's meetings I was required to attend didn't bring up the change in
the teen's attitudes among the Saints.  Those wags couldn't be bothered -
three more of them took child brides in spiritual, (off the record)
matrimony and they had to discuss their real estate deals.

Meekly, I asked how their sons were doing.

The bishop spoke first, "Not a bit of trouble - and I'm hoping his grades
will get him into the university at the capital.  Don't know what you did,
but it turned him around...  By the way - what did you two do?"

Saint Obee jumped in the conversation, not wanting to lose access through
my stupidity, "The old ritual.  Just like it describes in section three,
verses 12-15 in the Book of Divine Revelations of our founder, then
again..."  He droned on befuddling the men with obscure references until
they almost fell asleep - of course none of them would spend any time in
verification.

But Obee continued, surprising even me.  "Some of the teens have been
practicing their favorite hymns together - such pure voices.  They'd like
your support to take their group around the state to some of the smaller
congregations to praise in song.  I'm requesting, on behalf of the youth,
the sum of twenty-five hundred dollars for their trip.  I'm also expecting
that check cut and in my hands by tomorrow night.  I'm feeling a revelation
coming..."  He looked directly at the bishop and gave him a hard look.

The men grumbled.  Seems like their wives had already planned on their
support - the moms wanted their boys to tour the state during the summer
and meet some new friends.  The women, in their power system were hinting,
nagging or withholding to manipulate the men into giving the kids some
space to shine.  Maybe they were allies of sorts with Obee and me, but I'm
sure they had their own agenda.

The one drawback to plural marriages is the combined power of women.  I
didn't want another wife for that specific reason!  Chaz was a small part
of that power in Evergreen City, but due to her proclivities, she wasn't a
full member of that circle, like I would never be a Saint.  We were
outliers and always would be.

Obee stood tall, explaining his plan, "Amias will drive one of the school
busses and I'll chaperone - we can leave in June.  There are about fifteen
boys who've been practicing and they sound like angels.  Have you heard
them?"

Of course, the Saints never listened to their children.

I left the meeting early.  When I arrived home, there was Chaz and Royal
waiting for me.  Chaz handed me my itinerary and told me I had to take
Royal with me on the tour while she visited with her family.  She'd planned
my schedule to so I could stay with her far-flung relatives in the towns we
would visit.

There was something more going on with Chaz.  She probably wanted me to
take a second wife to help her with the house.  Hmmm.

"They love you."  She kissed me.  "All the women in my family just love
you!"

"I don't want to come back and find you pregnant!"  I said, lifting an
eyebrow.

"Can't happen - I already am.  But I'm going to visit my cousins in the
Redlands while you're gone - they need help with their taxes."

***

As soon as school was out, I had twenty kids waiting in the front yard by
the school bus, all their gear and robes - what a mess!  They were playing
around and racing out in the street.  Saint Obee came and brought order,
putting the older kids at the back with the robes on top of the duffle bags
and sleeping bags.  He assigned seats and carried a clipboard and noted his
seating map with every boy's name.  That was a blessing!

Chaz brought fruit and boxes of sandwiches and snacks for everyone.  I
noticed there were jars of pickles, baggies of brownies and cases of drinks
iced down in coolers from the boys' families.  I suspected this was the
women's reciprocal network of goodie sharing at work - they'd probably seen
this tour as a relief from so many kids in the house.

Either way, there were two young boys coming with Royal.  They were each
nine years old and had had older brothers in the choir.  As it turned out,
taking care of three boys became easier than watching one - they weren't so
bored and whiney when they had someone to play with.  Royal was only five,
so he was excited to be playing with older boys.

***

We hit the road.  The boys sang for a while and ate almost everything and
then fell asleep.  I continued northward to a small town where Saint Obee
and the choir would be hosted by the church, fed and offered whatever
recreation the small congregation had planned.

Should have known that a sanctioned perv like Saint Obee in the middle of
fresh, young bodies might become problematic, and it did.  He'd already
sent our agenda of ten churches in two weeks across the state to his own
private networks across the state.  We were met with "courage counseling"
Saints in every stop.  Seems there were more forces in action in the church
that weren't mentioned and I never suspected, but the choirboys were
delighted.

At every church along our way we were warmly greeted - seems the hierarchy
in the capital had forgotten about the spiritual needs of the rural areas,
focusing only on their monthly contributions and potential brides.  To find
tables and refrigerators full of homemade treats and cookers full of meat
was not unusual in the small towns where we stopped.

Keeping Royal and the two younger boys was easier than I imagined.  All of
Chaz' family had houses full of children, yards with play structures and
nearby woods and streams where the children explored and played.

Every hosting family I stayed with brought over a series of young women
looking to join Chaz as my second wife, and I demurred - Chaz and all her
plans were enough to manage.  But women talk - they found out I was good
husband material and I was part of the secret manhood ritual though Saint
Obee really ran the show.  Obee and I were seen as agents of positive
change among the women.

Like the Saints of our church, the women weren't too interested in the
specifics or verifying the procedures - they were impressed with the
results.

We departed each town with more food and cold drinks - Chaz' relatives made
sure we were well stocked.  I noticed their husbands often gave me a
stink-eye when the women doted on my small charges and me, doing our
laundry and making sure we were happy.

I preferred to think that was their jealousy - I was in a double bed with
three nubile bodies every night.

***

The choir did a great job, and the local papers carried pictures of the
handsome young men in their white shirts and ties, all those young faces
plastered with self-satisfied grins.

Obee and his network had a lot to do with that satisfaction in the small
church basements the night before.  Saint Obee was so thoughtful.  He
carried a box of women's pads for the boy's briefs in his travel case.
Those last-minute quickies for a shaky soprano or an anxious alto simply
made the rafters ring!

The most beautiful girls of each area we visited swarmed the choir of young
men.  The boys took photos and phone numbers but kept a respectful
distance.  Some of the teens mentioned that they had to get their degrees
before they could think about marriage and families.  They were holding out
for the right woman at the right time, "when the spirit moved them." That
made me proud.  Maybe this manhood ritual was working in subtler ways than
I imagined.

Trey was still the smallest of the group, but quite a beautiful young man.
I roped him into helping me drive the bus and he learned quickly.  I'd let
him drive the long stretches of two-lane roads while I ate my lunch or held
Royal on my lap in a nearby seat.

Sometimes Trey read the articles in the local newspapers to me touting the
choir and the spiritual uplifting they'd brought.  He was our gay boy and
though it was our obvious secret - we were all quite proud of him.

"Did you meet some other rare men like yourself?"  I asked as we filled the
gas tank.

"Lots of them.  I may have to go into public health.  Seems like it's a
draw for rare people.  I'm going to apply to State for my degree."  He said
softly, glancing around.

"Good for you.  Did they explain to you about wives and children?"

"Yeah.  It's easier than I thought."  He fluttered his eyelashes.  "I'm
going to get the best of all worlds and become a Saint.  Never thought that
would happen."

***

The tour ended too soon.  We stopped at Saint Obee's house on the way back
to the church and parked the bus on a small rise.  I opened the back door
and told the boys to hose out the bus - the floor was coated with crumbs
and sticky candies; the windows were foggy with fingerprints.

The boys took off their clothes and in only their odd underwear, Obee
handed them brooms, rags and window cleaner.  I took a number of photos of
the boys in their wet, one-piece undies as they played and cleaned having a
great time to the pop music on the radio before they called their families
to come pick them up.

Royal fell asleep before I could get the bus back to the school and call
Chaz to pick us up.  As I carried him in the door, Chaz kissed me, her
breasts fuller and a big smile, "I missed you, honey."

"Well, got your next project underway already or will I be consulted first
this time?"  I asked.

"I thought we might visit your family for a while this summer."

"Don't have the money, and if the state offers me a driving job this year,
we won't have the time.  If you hadn't roped me into driving the choir, we
could have gone.  Why don't we ask them here?"

"Your parents are working...  This is their busy season."  She seemed to
know a lot about my parent's lives but I knew she loved my mom dearly -
they called each other every day.

"Okay, let's start saving for the holidays and diapers."  With that I put
Royal in his bed and stroked his tiny cock - a new habit he liked better
than bedtime stories or prayers.

***

I could have asked the church for extra remuneration for my driving the
choir but I didn't want to go back home that summer.  Saint Obee and I were
beginning the Kindergarten for the Saints - we were going to bring the
youngest boys into their teen years with their sights set on a comfortable
eternity.

Actually, I was becoming deeply heartened with the impact of my educational
contributions or perhaps it was those tight little muscles stretched tight
and their big eyes at the moment deflowering.  The sound of a first orgasm
must be the most cherished melody in heaven - probably brought tears of
delight to all the inhabitants of paradise.  It did to me!  Actually, I
wanted to indoctrinate these younger boys into sainthood myself, but I
wasn't a Saint...

Kindergarten for the Saints began immediately after the choir tour.  The
next three full moons, Obee and I took one young, tender boy to the hilltop
every night for a slightly different ritual than what the teens had
enjoyed.  Though the teen's ritual had worked very well in bringing the
youth into spiritual bravery if not physical ecstasy - we were working with
more virginal, possibly erratic souls.

But Obee liked the element of surprise with the younger boys so could
maintain authority over the wiggly little squirts - he'd made changes for
the younger ones - he was planning on full use of the "man maker."

***

Obee, a boy and I trudged along the trail with a flashlight as the moon
rose and the last rays of sun escaped to the west.  Old Saint Obee was in
good shape - he led the way surefooted and excitedly singing of Zion.

That trail of silver hair on his chest and down his torso glistened in the
moonlight as we both stripped quickly in front of the rock altar, humming
one of our favorite hymns, nonchalantly glancing at the boy.  Usually the
boy would understand that he needed to be naked as well, then followed
suit.  If not, I gently removed his clothes for him, muttering thanks for
the opportunity to help a child into sainthood the entire time.

I let the boy strike a match and light a torch we stuck between two rocks
at the head of the altar while Obee drew down the spirits in prayer.
Without much fanfare, or information, I'd ask the boy if he had a hero.

"What man do you want to be like when you grow up?"

Some of them wanted to be a savior, or one of the heroes of the church from
years ago, some wanted to be like their fathers, or grandfathers.  Then,
I'd ask why.  They'd give me a brief list of the characteristics they
admired in the men, and I made a mental note.

"Excellent choice."  I'd reassure them, "Fine selection - heavenly traits."

We shared communion with the tykes; yeah, there was alcohol and the boys
relaxed quickly for their next step toward their spiritual journey to Lost
Cherry City.  The old branch I'd used to keep the teens in position was
replaced with a rather fine-looking length of PVC pipe Obee spray painted
gold and had drilled holes for cuffs for the boys' ankles and wrists.

The boy lay on the old blanket on the rock altar.  As I attached the cuffs
to the boy who would soon be deflowered, or "arise into sainthood" as I
called it.  I started with his ankles, asking for divine deliverance - Obee
had taught me the younger ones can get skittish, so keep my verbal
ministrations in the abstract and my voice calm.

When I had the boy's ankles secured, I asked him if he was scared and
wanted to leave.

The boys didn't want to lose face, though several were anxious and asked
what we were going to do.  So I'd ramble on about the spirit filling him
with courage - "You'll feel completely different and stronger when you go
home...  Filled with of the warmth and the dew along your shining path to
glory."  Somewhat honest enough for the moment.

I carefully rubbed the boy with oil which I believe had just a touch of
menthol - it warmed their skin.  By that time, I was flinging pre-cum all
around the altar and down my thighs, but they couldn't see that.  Small
arms, legs and feet were all oiled gently. A few boys giggled with their
first massage, but they all relaxed thinking this was the most of the
ritual.  Their little minds were much more malleable at that point.

As I anointed the groin of the boy, Obee silently slipped the wrist cuffs
on him and I stroked along his short rod and stopped when Obee had the
wrists secured.  Reaching between the boy's legs, I quickly drew the ankle
spreader upward and Obee deftly attached the wrist cuffs.  Suddenly a
beautiful boy-butt turned full blossom toward the night sky.

Now here's where the boy was befuddled - it was hard to explain how courage
and manhood had to be shackled - so we didn't explain it.

When they started to yell or wriggle, I reminded them of the
characteristics of their hero, asking them to start being the smart,
strong, courageous man - like the man they most admired.

Then Obee and I played "good saint - bad saint" with the boy. Obee'd tell
me to leave the kid alone; he was just a kid and was scared because I'd
tied him so the spirit could find him more easily.

"Maybe he wants to hide from the spirit, we can take him home if he can't
be still.  He's just not ready yet and you're pushing him too hard - can't
you see he doesn't have the guts to become a Saint yet?"  Obee would be
stern with me while he oiled the "man maker" with shaking hands he was so
aroused.

Eventually, the stripped, restrained boy would come to my aide.  "He's a
nice guy, and I'm not scared.  I want to be a Saint."  With that
encouragement, I rubbed his scrotum vigorously while the kid smiled,
thinking he'd save me from some kind of punishment from ol' Saint Obee.

Then the loud prayers started along with resounding, heart-felt spanks on
the tender white cheeks we'd lifted toward the stars.  Obee would beg the
heavens for a blessing, making the boy repeat what he'd said.  The boys
screamed and begged for strength along with Obee while he ministered to
their butts, rubbing and stroking, gently probing with his fingertip.

That was my cue to refresh the boy's fortitude with communion wine and
laying of lips on tiny, dark nipples.

Wasn't ever sure if Obee used any numbing medication on the "man maker,"
but he'd start pressing it into the boy's anus asking for mercy as divine
forces were readying the young vessel for divine seeds to be delivered
soon.

"I can feel the spirit moving closer - almost here and full of the
mysterious power from above..."  He was great with the lexicon of the
church.

Fortunately, the "man maker" was only about five inches long, and somewhat
conical, with a blunted tip.  Toward the handle, it increased in size to
about an inch and a quarter - not so big, but large enough to leave
comforting stigmata in the mind of the kid.

The first thrust usually caused the boy's eyes to widen and their mouths to
drop open, but most were too afraid to say anything.  Obee demanded that
they continue asking for godly valor - louder while he twisted and shoved,
moving the ivory dildo around until he found the sweet spot that caused the
stupefied tyke to moan.

Then, he'd pull the shaft out of the boy quickly, causing the child to look
at us in complete confusion.  A very disconcerting sensation!  Had the
spirit left?

"Not strong enough!"  Obee would shake his head and tell the boy the spirit
is leaving.  "Time to go home."

From their tiny, pink lips, every one of the boys asked for more; they
begged, swearing they were ready - they were strong enough.  Every one of
them begged Obee to pray with them!  "The spirit isn't finished - don't let
it leave!"

They wanted more of that divine thrill in their loins, and Obee gave it to
them sans any artificial delivery system.  He shoved his thin, erect rod in
easily and filled them with his heavenly seed while the boy learned the
pleasure of anal sex - yet Obee was careful to hide that reality, he chose
to disguise it behind the images of the power of the sainthood - the bold
brotherhood of bravery.

When Obee was finished, he and the boy shared wine in celebration while I
anointed the new mini-Saint, my finger in his butt, a cleansing of the
heavenly gift while my left hand stroked a small erection.  Couldn't return
the kid home with a sanctified rectum dripping secret, spiritual fluids.

While Obee kept the boy distracted, I found his holiest of holies and
sucked his penis while Obee explained that his pleasure the boy felt was
the spirit actually inhabiting his small sac and thanking the boy for his
fearlessness.  "That could be painful, but it's clear you're loved..."

All the boys were delighted with themselves and kissed us often when they
were unshackled.  Still heady with the wine, I carried them down from the
hilltop - all of us quite pleased with our transformations.  Each of the
boys left feeling quite different, some may have been rather sore for
several days, but each of them came to love Saint Obee like the warm,
loving father-figure they needed.

***

At the end of summer, Saint Obee was experiencing a nirvana of sorts, but
his body was tired.  He'd started taking the pills and using a cock ring to
keep his erections going long enough to complete the rite of passage and
implant his seeds of courage.  Then he had a number of wives to satisfy as
well.

As the semester started, the campus filled with laughter and good-natured
joking - most of the bullying came from the students who weren't bound for
sainthood.  All was going well in classes, but there was antipathy toward
me from some of the other teachers for my success in helping to quell the
problems.  Profession envy; I kept my head down and the desk drawers
locked.

Though I thought it was great at the time, Chaz went to several workshops
on taxes held by a large financial service.  She could earn more, and she
was an honest, trustworthy accountant though she was still working on the
fringes of the businesses in Evergreen City.  As a tax preparer she could
reach out to more clients.

I hired, not married, her cousin to keep Royal home and on the computer
with his home schooling while I worked and Chaz was in her training.
Things were going well for me, and I heard Obee was overbooked with
counseling sessions.

Royal and I took the cousin to the airport to pick up Chaz.  Chaz wasn't
smiling when she got in the car.  Instead, she wore a very disgruntled look
on her face and refused to say anything.

Wisely, I dropped the cousin off first.  As we drove off I asked Chaz what
was wrong, "Are you feeling sick, do we need to go to the doctor?"

"Fuck you and fuck the Saints!  This whole damned thing is illegal!"

I felt a surge of sweat when she said the word "illegal."  I thought I'd
been more than discrete, but figured I'd blame Obee for everything if
anyone asked.

"If you're upset, Royal and I will take the couch tonight."  I told her.
"Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

"Mother-fuckers!  All illegal and has been for years.  Not to mention
immoral and against the International Human Rights!"  She unpacked throwing
her things around the bedroom.  "They've hoodwinked us into thinking their
punishment and humiliation is from god, then threatening us with eternal
damnation.  Can't believe I fell for all that shit for so long."

"What are you talking about?  What's illegal?"

She pulled out a workbook from the classes she'd attended.  There were a
number of dog-eared pages.  Each of those pages was highlighted with neon
colors.

"Look - discrimination against gays, women, all the domestic violence and
those boys being paraded in their underwear - it's all illegal!  Ever
wonder why we don't have anyone but white people in the church?  It says
here that when a non-profit, like the church, takes donations from the
public and grants from the government, they have to follow the law!"  She
went on to show me a number of illegal practices that the Saints re-formed
into godly constrictions.

None of this was new to me, but her recent enlightenment was shaking the
foundations of Chaz' faith.  What could I do?  She'd have to work this out
for herself.  I took Chaz to bed, tucking him in and explaining that Mom
had just received a revelation from on high as I stroked his little sac.

"More, Daddy."  That meant he wanted his little rosebud massaged while I
sucked him.

I put him to sleep hearing Chaz on the phone with her family, relating the
laws to them.  Then I fell asleep with my boy in my arms.

***

The next morning Chaz was still angry.

"Call my Mom - she's lived under the same kind of regime.  Maybe she could
help..."

Shouldn't have made that suggestion.  Mom and Chaz were still on the phone
when I left for work. When I came home, I found her back at work, smiling
and Royal was at his studies.

"Honey, I've been thinking..."  She started.

"What are you gals cooking up now?"

"I'm never going to make enough money in this town - the church has the
businesses in their hip pockets and I'm the peculiar woman.  And for you,
my sweetheart - you didn't get a raise last year, and probably won't this
year - you don't have a chance of getting on the school board because
you're not a Saint and our children - well...  I don't like this place and
I don't want to raise them here!"

She was sounding like my dad, so many years ago.

"What about your cousin?"  I asked.

"She's marrying the bishop's son up in Orin, his son needs a third to help
with his brood.  They're up to twenty-seven kids now!"

"What are you saying?"  I was curious where all this was going.

"I want to move.  Let's go live near your parents - your mom can help me
get the enough clients to open my own office."

Considering that my parents were older, I had a second child coming and she
was right about the steps up my career ladder - there simply weren't any
for me in Evergreen City.  I was as limited as the teens I'd helped.

"We can do that, but we have to save, and it's going to be rough.  Can you
manage on less for a while?"

"Sure."  She smiled.  "We'll make it happen somehow."

Her attitude had changed so rapidly, I was a little unsettled with the
simplicity of her plans.

"Are you planning something - like some kind of disclosure about the
church's activities?  Remember, they have contacts around the world and a
violent past."

"Me?  In some kind of plot against the brotherhood of jerks and cons?"  She
smiled and kissed my cheek.  "Never."

I made a note to call my mother in the morning and find out what I could.

"I'll tell Royal.  Let's look at leaving at the end of the semester."

***

In Royal's bedroom I lay down behind him and pulled him to me, "You
remember Granddad taking you fishing and Grandma's greenhouse?"

"Yeah, can we visit them?"

"Pretty sure we'll be moving there in June.  Would you like that?"

"No."  He started breathing hard - getting upset.  His face squinched and
his lips went into an unnatural shape.  Then his chest started heaving and
his fist went to his eyes to wipe his tears.

"No?  Why not?"  This was as puzzling as Chaz' recent behaviors.

Through his sobs, "I can't be a Saint, or brave or even be a man.  I'll be
a stupid little boy forever."  He broke into a wail.  I held him against
me.  "The boys at church told me Saint Obee made them strong - they're
going to be Saints and brave men.  If we leave, I can't go to the hilltop
and get my courage.  No spirit and no seed and I'll never be a saint like
the other guys."

He continued sobbing for a while, and I rubbed his head and wiped his nose
on the pillowcase.  "Shhh...  It's okay; we'll call Obee and see if he can
help.  But you know that the ritual is for older boys, and you might get
spanked in the spirit."

"Spanked in the spirit?"  He asked.

"Drives the devils out of you, so you're a pure vessel."  I felt myself
slipping back into that "Padre Amias" mode - speaking in concepts to
confuse the boy.

"I can take a few spanks."  He said hesitantly.

"I'll call Obee and ask him if he can make you a Saint before we leave.
Okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise, and if Obee can't do it, I will.  We'll make you the best man
ever, better than a Saint."  My hand found his short rod, "I know how to
make you a god!"

Yeah, sure I called Obie.

***

Every Saturday, I took Royal to the hilltop, we stayed until sunset, and I
began introducing him to his power with information after a thorough
anointing.  Maybe it was the time and attention I gave him or maybe him
growing up, but he responded well, welcoming every touch and all the
genital play eagerly.

Yep, poor ol' Obee couldn't make it due to his familial duties, stomach
flu, consumption, snakebite or that's what I said.  I really didn't want
him around, with all the church trickery he promoted during his rituals - I
focused my conversations around being a good man, and a good son, switching
the focus of power from the heavens to me.

Royal's slender, straight body lengthened that summer, but his little hips
and belly still sported a thin layer of baby fat that I found enthralling.
Skin so smooth, and clear - and those thin thighs were perfection - just a
hint of his coming musculature.  His little ankles delighted me, and such
tiny, perfect toes...

I rubbed his small feet through my pubic hair while he cooed from his
blanket on the altar - his feet were so sensitive!  Yeah, I had to use his
smooth arches and soles to caress my erection and found it almost
unbearably erotic.  He was anointed with more than oil that night!  But, I
licked the viscous splatters off his smooth toes and asked him to take some
of my "power."  He liked it!

"That's the taste of power - gotta take this before you start making your
own."

Royal's sweet chest and ribs were particularly enjoyable.  I nibbled and
sucked his tiny nipples and he put his hands in my hair, giggling and
trying to push me away until I took his stubby fingers and wrapped them
around his short nail as I lapped his bb-sized knots.  The boy was quick,
and I trembled feeling his back arch during a quick orgasm.  Heaven!

But I couldn't push - not too fast...  Exercising a grown man's power can
overwhelm a young psyche and I wasn't going to confuse the boy by limiting
his pleasure to only me - his tender palms had a consecrated function in
his future.

The fourth Saturday night, I found the "man maker" in the bag Obee and I
hid nearby and slipped it into my pocket with the oil.

Royal and I lay on the blanket, looking up at the stars, "Your power comes
from inside you...  From some of the deepest places inside your body..."  I
anointed his sweet sac and began rubbing his excited, anxious but still
tiny shaft.  Laying him out in front of me on the rock altar on our
deflowering blanket I stroked along his sides, pulling him toward me.

Lifting the bottle above him, I let the drops fall on his sweet scrotum.
They shriveled and drew almost inside his body in the cool air. I kept it
dripping slowly until it ran down, between his legs.

"Are you going to make me a saint now?"  He asked.

"Better than a saint."  I pressed my nose into his small package inhaling
that addictive sent of boy musk and a hint of smegma - pure boy with more
than soap and water on his busy mind.  "In your precious blood are the
genes of all gods.  Not just one god but all of them!"

I may have been somewhat intoxicated after several quick communions, but I
continued - "The men in our family are among the elite - we have more
courage and power than the old farts running the raggedy ol' church in this
backwater town...  You'll be more than a saint my little Adonis, my Apollo,
my...  uh - Ra!"

Standing, I took his knees and bent them toward his chest, opening them
widely and began fingering the oil on his tight hole, imagining his tiny
muscles pulling my pee slit open when I pressed into him.

"Are you ready for me to show you the seat of all power?"  I slipped my
ring finger into his hard, closed sphincter.  He wiggled, and then began
struggling against me.

"That hurts."  He said.

"So what are you going to do?  Cry?  Run away?  Are you a boy or a god?"

That surprised him, but I enjoyed seeing him try to control himself as my
finger explored further.  Saint's alive his hole was hot!  He kept wiggling
and squirming; I kept pushing then adding another finger, enjoying the
feeling of his half-hearted resistance.

Couldn't help but use one of Obee's old tricks.  "I guess you're not ready
- not strong enough to be a man or a god or anything but a little boy.
Guess we have to go home now so you can run to Mommy and cry.  Let's get
dressed..."

"No!  Mommy told me not to put any more stuff up my butt.  She told me that
I couldn't do that again."

"What have you been putting up your butt when I wasn't looking?"  I twisted
my fingers and pulled them out, readying with the ivory "man maker" that
would soon open the pathway for my aching rod.

"Um, my crayons, a mini-carrot - three marshmallows..." He was thinking
hard.  "And don't get mad, but the best was the handle of that little
screwdriver from the glove box in your truck - just the handle.  That's
all!  I swear that's all!"

Had to admire the kid's ingenuity, "Did you like that?"

"Sometimes."  He whimpered, unsure of my reaction.

"Did you feel powerful when you put those things up your butt?"

"Sometimes it felt good.  The marshmallows weren't so great...  They
started melting and I couldn't get `em out.  ...And think one of the
crayons went down the toilet..."

"Well, seems you've been preparing yourself well.  Are you ready for the
real power now?  It might be uncomfortable, but this is going to be much
better than your experiments."  I found the tiny glands inside him and
rubbed, but only a little. His body jumped and he gave a small moan and a
sigh.

I pulled my fingers out and pressed the ivory stub into his butt quickly
and pressed it as hard as I could into him and held it still.  He yelped,
and then settled into breathing hard for a few moments.  I took another sip
of communion wine and asked for divine guidance.

Ever so slowly, I began pushing and pulling the thin cone in and out,
watching Royal's face for changes.  His eyes closed and he examined all the
different feelings the tool was bringing up his spine to the pleasure
center of his brain as his hand went to his proud, hard boyhood and I
smiled.

Now I knew what was coming next would be more than a mini-carrot, my stiff
shaft was hard as steel and hot for his boy-cunt.

"Do you think you're ready now?"

"I'm gonna be a man?"  His voice was hesitant.

"You're gonna be my little god."  I placed my glans at his relaxed hole and
pressed slowly.  He started to scream, but with my left hand, I took his
balls, and at the base, I pinched as much of his loose skin as I could and
pinched again with increasing pressure.  Royal yelled and shook his head
back and forth.

I pinched harder and started praying loudly, thanking every god I could
remember from Mythology 101 for my son's courage while the entirety of the
head of my penis found an incredible warmth.  I continued pinching and
grabbed his balls, squeezing tightly to distract him.

Suddenly, I quit the pinches and took both hands, ran them up the
undersides of his thighs and pushed his knees near his shoulders, "Royal,
look at me!"

With only the starlight on his smooth, pale skin he looked up at me with
his eyes filled with tears.  "Not easy being a god, but it gets better when
you're filled with power.  I'm just about to give you all the power I have
for now."

He nodded, but unsure.  It must have hurt - a young son-size rectum doesn't
take kindly to a father-size tool, but he was a brave boy so far.

"Hold your knees, we need to anoint you with your first seeds of power -
I'll share mine with you until your godhood gives you your own.  You're
going to need more of this!"  I dripped more of the oil around his tightly
stretched muscle and my rampant rod.  Our joining glistened, and I pressed
further, watching his face.

His eyes got big and his jaw dropped open.

"Feel the power yet?"  I asked

"Too much!"  He choked out his tiny throat.

Stroking slowly, only an inch or two, I watched his face as he felt me
moving deep inside him.  My god, he was so tight around my shaft, every
pull back out of him created the most wonderful suction making my balls
roil readying for release.  My sweat dripped from my forehead onto his
chest.  I continued short, slow strokes and watched his face relax and his
tiny spike rise, his little slit was revealing itself.

Obee taught me one thing - the way our rock altar was naturally configured
I needed to push the boy's knees back as far as possible, folding him into
a tight ball to make my corona rub along the boy's joy button.  I pushed
Royal's knees back hearing him exhale sharply.

"I can feel it!"  He grunted in almost a whisper as I hit his sweet spot.

Hearing him say that shot my semen loose and I felt it rise as I shoved
harder and deeper.

"My golden boy - my god..."  Everything inside me was forcing rushes of my
super-heated semen as deeply into my boy as I could.  I grunted and groaned
and shoved harder, feeling the hot liquid oozing around my glans and
anointing him inside with my power.

My knees trembled as the divine tidal waves of my ejaculation slowed, and I
looked down to see my son lifting his hands to my chest.  They gently went
to my neck and he pulled my face to his and kissed my lips.

"I felt the power Daddy."  His breathing began to slow, he looked a little
dizzy - may have been the decreased oxygen from my pressure on his chest.
My tears of bliss fell on his chest while I pulled out of him, and let his
legs relax.

"That feels funny."  His hand went to his ass.

"Means you need more power.  We'll take care of that tomorrow night, okay?"
I felt a sudden surge of confidence - I'd finally found my place in all
this religiosity - and I wasn't going to lose it.

Royal grinned.  "Am I a man now?"

"It's gonna take some more work, but for you, my little deity, I'll do it."

He held me and kissed me, feeling stronger for his bravery.  What could I
say?

Oh, yeah - hallelujah!


Fin.


Saints and Gods