Date: Tue, 27 Jun 2017 11:23:02 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Culberhouse Rules 7

See original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/culberhouse-rules/) for
warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights
reserved. Includes sex between related young-adult men. Go away if any of
that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my
characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of
future stories. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html
to keep the cum coming.

*****

"Ryan, Taylor! You won't BELIEVE how interested folks are in the retreat
you did! Everyone is all abuzz. Some of the kids actually told their
parents about it. I am just so, SO proud of you both." She waltzed through
the door and began kissing us. "Everyone is just amazed at the difference a
weekend can make. I'm so thrilled with you two, not just the change in
attitude but the willingness to share with others. Father Sean is just
delighted that you took last week's sermon so much to heart and have the
will to be open and honest about your faith, and how good CYO can be." Ryan
and I stared at each other in horror and you didn't have to be an expert
lip-reader to see us each mouth, 'Holy fuck!'

*****

Culberhouse Rules 7: Confession is Good for the Soul

By Bear Pup

*****

Dinner was a fiasco. Mom purred and cooed and Dad looked like his chest was
about to bust with pride. He even had nice things to say about *me*! It
took everything I have not to puke and even smooth-as-silk Ryan looked like
his was fraying on every edge. I fled in a blind panic mumbling "homework"
and Ryan appeared at the bathroom connector ten minutes later, obviously
terrified to be seen near my hall door.

We sat, closely examining each other's looks of horror, watching the
scenarios of doom and damnation flows behind each other's eyes. Suddenly,
in my normally placid and flaccid brain, that noun floated. Damnation. I
had earlier turned off the computer speakers to quiet the rare but
occasional DING of incoming mail sealing out fate, the bell that tolled
for... us.

Ryan just stared. I began at Google and worked in from there. Within a few
minutes, my fingers and mouse were flying. I muttered to myself, and
occasionally glanced at Ryan who was now over my shoulder. I heard him gasp
when he finally realized what I was up to. Suddenly Ryan was helping with
terse whispers about cross-connections I hadn't thought about. Suddenly
everything resolved and we ended at a single page.

Br Andrew Okere, CFX (479) 555-CYOC (555-2962) Catholic Youth Ministries
Lay Minister - Director of Outreach

"Brother Okere. What do you think? Irish?" Ryan was already dialing.

He handed me one earbud and he took the other. "Okere here. How may I help
you?"

The voice was deeper than a well and sounded sorta like "oh-KEE-ree hyear,
OW may eye ELP yooo?" Ryan wrote quick-typed 'yep.irish'

"Father, Um, I mean Brother O'Kere. My n-name is Ryan Culberhouse and my
brother, Taylor, is also on the line. I, um, we, um, have an idea that
might be a great, um, opportunity for outreach for CYO. Could we, um, talk
to you about it sometime?"

"Now is fine."

"Um, it would have to be in person. To explain the idea, we'll, uh, have to
explain certain, um, circumstances that made it seem like a good idea and,
um, we can't do that over the phone."

He chuckled deeply. "If you are trying to arouse my interest, you have done
so. I am based in Springdale. Is that convenient?" I quick-typed to Ryan,
'better thn LR'

"We could make that work. We're in High-OUCH, sorry, sir, hit my
elbow. We're in Ash Flat."

"How providential. I will be in Mountain View at St Mary's all day
tomorrow. Could you come by after... well, I assume you are in school?"

"Yes sir. We can be there by..." I typed 'skip last pd!!!' "um, 4:30 or
so?"

"Are you skipping schools for this? Never mind. Don't answer that." The
chuckle was back. I started to think I could like this guy. "Lying is a
sin, after all. I will wait until I see you there. I won't be hard to
find. Ask for Brother Andrew."

We made our goodbyes and Ryan practically melted. I ran downstairs and told
a near-to-weeping Mom that we would be home very late tomorrow as we were
meeting the CYO Outreach Director in Mountain View. She fumbled in her
purse and shoved the Conoco card in my hand, whispering, "Don't tell your
father, but fill up when you get back as well. I am SOOO proud of you
boys."

Not being complete idiots, we snuck out that night and siphoned all but the
fumes from Ryan's tank to mine. Free gas is not to be sneezed at! We had an
immensely-satisfying shower the next morning, but took it no further than
just a mutual hand job. We were simply too nervous. We did our best to play
it cool at school and fend off the rising tide of questions. We ditched
even earlier than we'd planned; the pressure was just too much to stand. We
got to Mountain View around quarter of four.

Parking in St Mary's was not exactly difficult. It was not uncommon for
Catholic churches to think in the long term and buy plenty of land. St
Mary's was set at least a quarter-mile off the road behind rolling fields
of.... nothing. Apparently, they were planning on the contingency that
they'd need room for a Basilica or something.

For those of you who are not religiously-inclined, there are few things
quite as... creepy as an empty church. We made the mistake of trying the
front doors first and found one unlocked. The vast space looked like the
place sunbeams came to die. The very idea of saying, 'Um, Hello?' or of
making any sound whatsoever was too hideous to contemplate. We retreated
and tried a side door, finding the offices such as they were.

We came in and the largest black man -- the largest man, actually, who also
happened to be black -- we'd ever seen stood up from reading a magazine. My
only thought was, 'Holy fuck! Churches have *bouncers*?!?'

The deep voice boomed, "You must be the mysterious Brothers Culberhouse! I
am Andrew Okere. Father Norbert just left for the day and we can use his
office." His voice, so deep and resonant, with its lush accent we'd both
thought of as Irish was, in fact, African. I gave Ryan a
(completely-unfair) look of disgust, and mouthed, 'Irish? Seriously?'
before we followed the giant into the office.

Brother Andrew was at least six-six or more, and built like a football
player (American style). If forced to guess, I'd think perhaps 350 pounds?
Some of it fat but not fucking much of it. His skin was that unique color
that drove sports photographers insane; use enough gain to see the features
and the eyes and teeth looked like you were going for Al Jolson.

We sat in two plastic chairs as the mammoth minister settled onto the
creaking desk. "So, tell me why this had to in person, gentlemen? I don't
mind; I'm just curious."

Ryan was still absorbing the fact that Golden Boy was unlikely to impress
Mr Gargantor, so I started instead. "Um, sir... by the way, sorry, what do
I call you?"

"Let's start with Andrew, son, and go from there. And you?"

"I-I-I'm Taylor and this is Ryan. So, um, you're a brother not a priest?"

"Yeeeees. Is that a problem?"

"Um, no. Not really. Maybe." His laugh was rich and beautiful. "Only, it
would be a lot better if parts of this could be under the Seal of the
Confessional."

He sobered instantly, and spoke slowly. "I am not a priest, but I am sworn
to Holy Orders. I can swear upon my order that nothing you say will ever
pass my lips until you tell me that you release the seal. Will that
suffice?"

"And after, we can talk about stuff that reference back to, you know, the
sealed stuff, after?" He nodded slowly. I took several deep breaths and he
slowly smiled. "Okay, the sealed stuff. I'm, um, well, I'm gonna talk to
the wall over here and pretend it's like, a confessional screen?" He made
an agreeable noise. I noticed that Ryan was staring at the same point on
the wall I was, equally desperate not to meet the giant's eyes.

I gave an utterly.... um, completely... um, *mostly* honest version of what
got us there. The hatred and rivalry; the betrayal and counter-betrayal;
the vindictiveness and longing. I left out the, well, you know, specifics,
but did make it (kinda, sorta, okay-not-so-much) clear that we'd had
brother-on-brother sex. I relaxed a little when tornadoes and lightening
and other wrath-of-God shit didn't descend, which made the rest easier. I
explained the ruse about camp and everything that transp... well, fuck, at
least I mentioned the fish and the bear! It's was the best I could do
without the whole Wizard of Oz Melting Witch Syndrome consuming me.

I wrapped up and took a deep, desperate breath. "That's the sealed stuff."
For the first time, I looked at the man's face. I mean, *really*
looked. There was calculation there, and disappointment, and concern, but
no condemnation at all. I was stunned for a moment.

"So. We got home and told people that the CYO Revival had healed the rift
we'd always had. Everyone thought it LITERALLY miraculous. We, well I
thought, 'Why not?' the fake program we came up with... why couldn't it
work for real?" We went on to explain the various parts and steps, Ryan now
contributing as much or more than I was since he'd finally unthawed.

"The big part for me was when Taylor and I reenacted the 'worst moment'
bit. I was stunned, I mean really shaken, that so much of what I thought
make him such a pri-- jerk were just... nothing at all. Even without the
real reason we're, you know, good with each other now, that part alone
would have made a HUGE difference in how we thought about each other."

"So, um, Fa-- Andrew, what do you think?"

He looked back and forth between us in a supremely-unsettling way before
his voice rumbled to life. "Okay. First off, I think you boys need to have
a very long, very thorough and very, very heartfelt confession with your
local priest. Don't look at me like that. I can't even begin to catalog the
stuff you boys each need to really figure out and make right with the Lord.

"Second, I'm sorely tempted to leave both your asses hanging out there. I'm
half convinced that God wanted to teach you boys a serious life-lesson
here. What you did is wrong on soooo many levels. Maybe having everyone
from Mom on down find out every sordid detail is just what you need.

"That said, I also don't want to clean the vomit off of Father Norbert's
office and both of you look about to blow. And, honestly, you have a couple
of extremely good insights there. And yes, maybe what you need instead is
to help others. For now, put a redir on that fake Gmail account to me," he
handed me a card, "and I will start fielding the questions. Short term is
easy, since your fake flyer said you were full up. I'll also work with the
Diocese and get a real one started."

Ryan was actually leaking tears and I just blubbered thanks. "Oh, no,
sons. You are *so* not off the hook here. You are both going to be the
youth ministers for the program and for Every. Single. Weekend." He smiled
at the shared looks of horror on our faces. "I am absolutely certain that
will be part of your atonement. Part of the reason is that I will be having
a 'chat' with Father Sean to make sure of the fact. And you will be
confessing no later than Saturday as well... WON'T YOU?"

Panicked responses in the general vicinity of 'yes, sir' erupted from us
both. "Good. Gentlemen, I need your cell numbers and your secure mail
accounts so we can talk about this until we have a viable plan that works
in public discussions. For now, give your parents the news that you'll be
quite busy over the summer months. Quite busy indeed. Expect my call on
Monday?"

With that, we fled. We were perhaps three-quarters of a mile down the road
before Ryan pulled into a narrow dirt lane and fell out of the car, puking
his guts out. I stumbled a few feet away into the trees and simply leaned,
shaking, against one with my forehead on the rough bark. To be perfectly
honest, the only reason I wasn't blowing chunks was that Ryan got there
first and sibling rivalry was still good for something.

We were both stunned when we realized the entire, terrifying ordeal had
lasted only about forty minutes. We topped off the car at Conoco and made
it home in time for dinner. By that point, we at least had our composure
back. Mom and Dad were just thrilled at having 'actual youth ministers' for
sons. They weren't even slightly taken aback by the fact we were about to
lose every fucking weekend of our last real summer, and went so far as to
tell us they'd make up for what we would have made working. Who the fuck
said we were gonna work over the summer?

All in all, it was about as good as it could get and Ryan and I made it
back up to my room where I did the forward rule to send the mail to Brother
Andrew. Ryan drifted to his room. I assume he did homework; I just stared
at the wall, wondering if we'd gotten out of something bad or into
something worse. I finally crawled into bed, forgetting to even undress.

We were both in soaring spirits the next morning. The tension of the
previous days had boiled off like mist, leaving behind something of the
heady confidence we'd had before all this started. Ryan gave me a
world-shaking blow job in the shower and I brought him off as I VERY
thoroughly cleaned his ass, two fingers in there and jacking him like a
maniac, swallowing his orgasmic screams in a deep kiss.

Mom was still flying from the previous news and had gotten up early to make
a special breakfast. It was one she rarely made as it took a lot of
time. She made really thick grits, let them cool slightly, then formed them
into muffin pans lined with parchment paper. Cheese and a raw egg went into
each and got topped with ham and more cheese, then the whole thing was
baked.

The result were the little egg-grits-ham-cheese pies that were to die
for. Ryan and I polished off the entire dozen before bolting out the
door. We each drove to school Wednesday where... nothing tragic
happened. More and more people asked about the 'Church Thing', most of whom
weren't even Catholic. Mom would bust when she heard that!

The only odd thing was when Jack Arnhart came up. The Arnhart brothers
(three of them) had never been really close to either Ryan or me, but we
were all jocks. Jack came up to me in the hall after English. "Yo,
Culberhouse. How's things?"

"Solid. What's up, Arnhart?"

"Heard about you and Ryan, you know, doing the brother thing. Just wanted
to say, good job, man. It's rough being brothers and jocks and competitors
and all, just like the three of us. We were wondering about, you know,
hanging sometime."

"Sounds good."

"Let me have your phone and I'll put my number in." It seemed to take
longer than I'd have expected before he handed it back. We fist-bumped as
he walked off. Odd.

I got home later than Ryan and noted the pallor on his face. I was just in
time to clean up for dinner as I'd dropped by the weights after school to
try and catch back up on my routines.

"Taylor, I already told Ryan. Father Sean called me earlier. He's expecting
both of you at 7:00. Something about Brother Andrew? The CYO Coordinator?
He said it was something you discussed that had to be completed by Saturday
and tonight was the best time so you could just get it out of the way. He
was certain you'd appreciate that."

Dad chimed in, "And I have to tell you how proud of you we both are. In
fact," he and Mom shared a smile, "we have a surprise for you." Dad handed
each of us an envelope. Inside was a Conoco card and something called a
Bluebird card with an American Express Logo. "We have Conoco cards coming
with your names on them at which point you'll give our back to us. From now
on, any time you do anything on CYO business, use the Conoco card to fill
up. Now, don't abuse it! But you both deserve it.

"And the other card in there is how you'll get your allowance -- you're
*increased* allowance -- from now on. It works just like a credit card but
you can only spend what's been allocated."

"And if you need to spend money on the CYO work, you just tell me or your
father and we'll release whatever you need. It only takes a minute and I
can do it from the phone thingie!"

Ryan and I gushed and thanked them appropriately. This really was a huge
deal. It was a dinner chockfull of smiles and laughter all around. After,
we very nervously left to go meet with Father Sean. I drove this time and
Ryan really looked like he was going to puke.

"So, um, what do you think?"

Ryan swallowed convulsively over and over. "I can't think."

"Well, I'm going to just confess everything. That way it's not hanging over
me. So whatever, he'll already know."

"Fuck." Ryan's voice was small.

We got there and a rather severe looking Father Sean greeted us. I went
into the confessional first. There is something.... special about a
confessional. The small, dark cubbyhole redolent of Murphy's Oil Soap and
lingering incense seemed to say, 'I've heard it all, kid.' It made it at
least possible to think about telling God, through the priest, all the
worst stuff.

And I did. From the ransacking of Ryan's room to the blackmail to get him
to treat me fair to the shared revelation that we... FUCK that was
hard. That we each had 'impure thoughts' about each other. That we 'acted
upon them' and found out we really loved each other more than we ever
realized. Then the lying and the fake flyer and the fake fights and the
(deliberately vague) overnight trip that included 'impure acts'. I poured
everything out.

Father Sean's voice was never harsh or mean, but was firm as he asked for
any number of specifics. I rarely hesitated and never lied to him, and hid
as little as possible. I was surprised at just how detailed he made me get
on the 'impure acts' including what I felt and thought at various points in
our sexual ballet. I heard his voice get husky on many occasions.

Finally, we were done. "Son, you will have both atonement and penance for
this, and a lot of each. You will not be fully absolved of the stain of
these sins until both atonement and penance is complete, but you may
partake in Holy Communion as long as you confess new sins as you would
otherwise have needed to do.

"You will promise me here and now that you will do everything you can to
avoid impure thoughts and acts from this point forward. You will both
complete a Rosary Novena, a complete rosary every night for the next nine
nights together. You, Taylor, will complete a separate Novena in private
before bed. You will dedicate each rosary to the blessed VIRGIN Mary and
pray for her assistance in keeping you pure in both thoughts and acts. We
will discuss your atonement later when I speak to both of you.

"God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son
has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for
the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give
you pardon and peace, and thus I absolve you from your sins in the name of
the Father, and of the Son," we both made the sign of the cross, "and of
the Holy Spirit. Amen."

I went out to find a shaking, greenish-white Ryan knelt in fervent
prayer. I tapped him on the shoulder and it was clear I'd nearly made him
puke again by startling him. He shakily made it to the confessional and
closed the door. I check the time. I'd spent nearly an hour in there. I
knelt where Ryan had, knees in the same warm depressions his own had made
while I was in there.

I stared at the altar and the crucifix for the longest time, asking God
(and myself) whether it made sense. Yes, all of the lies and all the rest
hurt others, at least by omission. We'd deceived so many people for a
selfish gain. That was wrong no matter how I sliced it. But should what
Ryan and I shared be a sin? I mean, it was clear that the Church thought
so. But staring at Christ on the cross, I felt none of the shame I had at
all my other sins.

Whenever I had confessed to jacking off, or dissing Ryan, or cheating on a
test, I could *feel* God's disappointment with me. I could tell that He
thought I'd failed Him. My very first confession after the rather-rote one
preceding First Communion, was for nicking a candy bar. Father... Paul, I
think it was then, had been harsh, but nothing like what I felt when I
looked up at Christ's suffering. I was crushed that I'd done it, honestly,
and deeply remorseful.

I tried with all my might to feel that same remorse, that same burden of
failure and guilt over what Ryan and I had done to, with and for each
other, but only the ransacking and blackmail brought that powerful shame
down on me. I pondered that for over an hour, succeeding in feeling
absolutely horrible for lying and everything else, but I could never get
those emotions to come regarding anything sexual that we did.

I was still utterly confused when Ryan, clearly having been streaming tears
for some time, came and joined me, kneeling at my side. Father Sean took a
couple of minutes to emerge. When he did, he pulled one of the lector's
chairs around. Both Ryan and I startled. Over all the year of Altar Boy
work, neither of us ever knew those chairs moved!

He sighed in deeply and blew out his cheeks. "Okay, you boys are in a world
of hurt and no mistake. Atonement will take you all summer, at the very
least. You will both work honestly, and very hard, to make this retreat
plan work under Brother Andrew, and I guarantee you that he is no
pushover. You will also speak to CCD and CYO meetings around the parishes
all summer about your experience. Brother Andrew will work with you on how
to phrase it without me having to deal with a massive flood of incestuous
homosexual confessions. I'm not sure I could survive it." The last was
muttered low and... in an interesting voice.

"Anyway, your penance is set, your atonement begins. I have one more
question for you both, and you can consider it under confessional seal. Was
that Saturday afternoon honestly the first time either of you had ever
touched another person, sexually? You had no experience at all?"

I glanced over at Ryan and spoke quietly, "Not quite, Father. You've heard
my confessions before about girls and sex stuff."

"Of course, of course. I meant same-sex contact."

I met his eyes clearly. "For me, yes sir. I, uh, I thought about it. Like,
a lot. But no one every touched me and I never did either." I turned to
Ryan. He was staring straight down. I could see tears dripping.

Father Sean's voice was quiet and compelling. "Ryan, son, open your
heart. Tell me. Let God heal you."

Ryan didn't look up and his voice was muffled and that of a
child. "C-C-C-Coach Malkin. I w-w-w-was eleven, I guess. He, he said he'd
seen me staring. One-one-one day he was showering after p-p-practice and I
w-watched. I was peeking around the wall and jacking off. I c-c-closed my
eyes and was getting close and he was, I mean THERE. He dragged me to his
office. He was naked and my pants were around my ankles and I was screaming
and crying.

"He s-s-sat me on his desk and told me I w-was disgusting. He said if I
l-l-l-l-liked it so much I could. I could. I could just..." His voice
dissolved in sobs and then came back stronger than ever. "I could just suck
on him since I was obviously a cocksucker. And-d-d-d-d, and I did. And I
liked it!" the last was a quiet wail of anguish. "And then the door burst
open and Principal Hitchens was there, screaming about having taken video
through the door and I crawled to the corner and wept while they argued.

"Finally, Coach was gone and P-P-Principal Hitchens was telling me I'd have
t-t-t-to testify! In front of everyone! I screamed and punched him until he
got me calmed down and I made him promise not to tell. As far as I know he
never did. C-C-C-Coach Malkin 'got sick' the next day and had to... I
forget the excuse. Go somewhere for cancer treatment? Something. He was
gone and I never told anyone." He looked pleadingly at Father Sean.

"I confessed it though! I swear I did. I confessed it and y-y-you said it
wasn't my sin to conf-f-f-fess. And to," Ryan smiled through the tears,
"say ten Hail Marys for t-t-touching myself and not to do it again."

"Oh, you poor, poor child. I never knew that was you. I was so enraged I
went straight to the Principal and had a screaming fit. He already had that
horrible man taken care of. He couldn't call the cops, the scandal would
have killed you, son, even though he never told me your name. But Malkin
didn't realize that and committed himself to a treatment program and swore
never teach or coach boys again. As far as I know, he never did."

"Is that why I'm so... sick? Father, did that make me...?"

"Shh, son. No. I am supposed to tell you that sex outside of marriage is a
sin and that sex between people of the same gender is reprehensible. I,
well, I can't do that, son. God made you the way you are for His own
reasons. I am not going to second-guess His wisdom. That monster preyed on
you, knowing that he could use your guilt to keep you in line. I've no
doubt it worked on countless other victims."

Father Sean petted Ryan and I hugged him tightly. Between the two of us, we
let him cry out his grief and rage and pain. It was nearly half-past-ten by
the time we got Ryan put back together. I turned to Father Sean and simply
said, "You are a really, genuinely good man, Father. Thank you."

He looked at me wistfully. "First off, you don't have to sound so
surprised. Second, don't be too impressed, either. I tell you this in the
spirit of confession myself and trust you never to mention it: I am going
to be raw for weeks over the visuals you two gave me. I'm attracted to men
as well, but have never touched another and never will. I won't break my
vows. But that doesn't mean my nuts stop working, son. God help me, there
is only so much a man can take!"

We got to my car and my phone went off on a low alarm tone. "Why the fuck
would I have set an alarm for 10:30 at night?" I pulled it out and read the
screen, feeling my chest lock, unable to breathe and blood running with
ice. Ryan noticed and leaned over and gasped. The alarm message read,
"Betting I know what really made it better with your Brother. Let's
talk. The five of us. Text me." There was no name and nothing anyone could
use as proof. Nothing anyone could even call out as provocative. But I knew
it was Jack, and that he'd done it while he held my phone earlier. I just
kept staring at the same phrase, reading four words over and over and over
in shock. 'The five of us.'

<eof>