Date: Tue, 30 Nov 2021 11:01:00 +0000 From: Wes Leigh Subject: Misunderstood, Chapter 10 (Gay Adult/Youth) MISUNDERSTOOD By Wes Leigh This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation by visiting https://donate.nifty.org/. Chapter Ten Andrew knelt on a hard, wooden floor, his knees aching and his legs throbbing. And his shoulders twitched where the scratchy robe touched him. For two hours, priests in black robes had circled him, tossing holy water onto his head and body, chanting prayers and speaking Scriptures over him. He had looked up the first time the water splashed on his head, but a firm hand forced his head back down, and he didn't try that again. Now his legs were beginning to shake. He'd never knelt so long before, and his muscles were cramping from holding the same position. Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, the black-robed men stopped and moved back. James stepped up behind Andrew and helped him to rise to his feet. Andrew's legs immediately went numb, having fallen asleep underneath him. If it hadn't been for James holding him up, he would have fallen on his face. He gasped and reached down, grabbing his thighs and squeezing them. James guided him back to a chair and helped him sit down. Father Timothy took a stance directly in front of Andrew, clasping his hands behind his back. He stared down at Andrew and said, "Listen, Applicant Andrew, and hear the word of God: "Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable. "If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads. "Neither the sexually immoral nor men who have sex with men will inherit the kingdom of God. "The law is made not for the righteous but for lawbreakers, for the sexually immoral, for those practicing homosexuality." Father Timothy paused and pulled out a small glass bottle containing holy water. "The word of God is clear, Applicant Andrew. Allow these words to penetrate your ears." Timothy stepped forward, wet a finger with holy water, and touched each of Andrew's ears. "Store these words in your mind." He touched Andrew's forehead with his wet finger. "Treasure these words in your heart." One final touch, this time in the center of Andrew's chest, pressing the scratchy robe against his skin. Timothy stood back. "Now go and let these words fall from your lips for the rest of the day." James motioned for Andrew to stand. His legs were steadier now, no longer tingling, so he was able to follow James out of the room. They went to a small, dark cell with scented candles burning on a shelf and a single wooden chair. James motioned for Andrew to sit down and then handed Andrew a sheet of paper. Written on it were the same scriptures Father Timothy had spoken moments earlier. "Read these out loud," James instructed. "Keep reading them, over and over. I'll come get you for lunch." James closed the door, leaving Andrew straining to see the words on the paper he held. The candles provided just enough light. Andrew read the first line. "Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable." Andrew shook his head. Why was it detestable? He just didn't understand. But he read to the bottom of the page and then started all over again at the top. When James came to get him an hour later, Andrew's voice was almost gone. They went to the cafeteria, ate a light lunch, and returned to the candle-lit cell, where Andrew spent another three hours reading the page of scripture over and over and over, until finally his voice was a mere whisper, still repeating the words as he'd been asked to do, hoping this would lead to the healing they priests had promised. *** "Why did you want to spend time with Father Downing?" Father Timothy asked. Andrew shrugged. "I guess `cause he was nice to me. He was my friend." Father Timothy shook his head sadly. "He was not your friend. He pretended to be your friend, so that you would want to spend time with him." Andrew shook his head. "Nah. I'm pretty sure he was my friend. We had a lot of fun when we was together." Father Timothy frowned and snapped, "Applicants do not contradict instructors. Father Downing was NOT your friend. He was manipulating you and using you for his own twisted desires. Am I clear?" Andrew nodded. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, but he'd clearly angered Father Timothy. "Yes, sir," he meekly replied. "Good. Now, it is vital that you understand how you were a victim. You were given some homework to do. How did you respond to question number three?" Andrew glanced down at the paper he'd filled out the night before. He began reading, "How did you suffer as a victim? I was called mean names by the other kids. They beat me up and broke my arm and ribs. I had a bad--" Andrew paused and said, "I don't know how to spell the word, but it's when your head gets busted up bad and there's bleedin' inside." "A concussion?" "Yeah. I had that." Andrew looked back at this homework page. "--injury to my head. My parents also got real mad at me and they punished me. It wasn't fair, so I guess I was the victim of unfair punishment too." Andrew looked up and said, "That's what I wrote down." Father Timothy sighed. "Were you a victim in any other way?" Andrew shrugged. "I don't think so." "When Father Downing molested you, did you feel scared, worried, shameful, or upset?" "Nah," Andrew admitted. "I was just excited `cause what we did was fun." Father Timothy turned and stared at Monsignor Albez, who was sitting in on this therapy session. They exchanged knowing looks. Father Timothy said, "That will be all for now. Penitent James, please escort Applicant Andrew to dinner. We'll meet again in the morning." *** But they didn't meet in the morning. Instead, Andrew found himself in the same dim, candle-lit cubicle, reading an even longer page of Scripture. Lunch was a special meal in his room, by himself. Bread and vegetables only, with water to drink. Then an afternoon back in the cubicle, reading the same scriptures over and over. *** Father Timothy was mincing no words the next time they met. "Applicant Andrew, you were molested by Father Downing. The things he did to you were not fun, not exciting. They were wrong. Detestable. Sinful. Disgusting to both God and righteous men. It was wrong for you to touch him. Wrong for him to touch you. Wrong for you to be sexually excited by that touching. All the things he showed you were abominations in God's eyes. Do you understand?" Andrew didn't understand, so he said, "Not really." "You don't understand what I'm saying?" "I understand your words, sir, but it just don't seem right to me. I ain't sayin' you're wrong, but it just wasn't like that." The color drained from Father Timothy's face. "And what exactly was it like?" "Well, I know some of the stuff we did was bad. Y'all been tellin' me that for days now, so I understand that part, but there were some good things we did too. Father Downing made me happy. He listened to me and made me feel like someone cared about me. We laughed a lot when we was together. So I don't think God hated everything we did." Father Timothy shook his head in frustration. "Penitent James, spend some time working with him in the garden this afternoon. I have a few things to discuss with the Monsignor." *** James showed Andrew how to tie up tomato vines. "If we left them alone, the vines would droop to the ground under the weight of the fruit. Then the fruit would rot or worms would eat into it." "That would be bad," Andrew said. He was enjoying working with James. He seemed nice, kind of like Stephen. He looked younger than Stephen, though his eyes looked older and sadder in a way Andrew couldn't explain. "Hold this vine up here. No, like this. Good. Now hold it there while I tie it to the trellis." James used green garden tape to secure the vine in two more places. "Let it go. Do you see how it stays up on the trellis now? If the vines grow more, they'll weave through the wood and hold themselves in place, doing some of our work for us." Andrew grinned. "I like workin' out here with ya', but I'm all for the tomatoes takin' care of themselves so we don't gotta do as much!" James smiled and ruffled Andrew's hair. Andrew laughed and wrapped his arms around James' waist, hugging him. James stopped smiling and gently pushed Andrew away. "That's probably not a good idea, Andrew. The instructors would be upset if they saw us hugging." Andrew backed away, no longer grinning. "Sorry, sir." Tears pooled in his eyes. He didn't want to cry, but it seemed he was always fucking things up. And they'd probably get mad at him for even thinking that word, so he was really messing up bad now. James sighed. "I didn't mean to upset you, Andrew. Come here." James led Andrew to a bench underneath a shade tree. "Sit down and let's take a break." Andrew dropped down on the bench next to James, refusing to meet the man's eyes. James looked around. Seeing no one else in the garden, he placed his arm around Andrew's neck. "I'm sorry too, Andrew. I know this must be very frightening for you." Andrew nodded sadly, then leaned against James' warm side. James hugged him, and Andrew whimpered, "I just miss my family so much. And my dog, King." "What kind of dog is he?" "A Rottie ... a Rottweiler. He's got a huge head and he slobbers after he drinks sometimes. He's always waitin' for me when I get home from school, and he lays at my feet when I'm eatin' and he sleeps next to my bed at night. I miss him real bad." "Do you miss your mom and dad too." Andrew nodded. "Mom treats me good. She cooks great, lots better than y'all eat here." James chuckled. "Don't you dare tell anyone, but I wouldn't mind something other than raw vegetables every once in a while." Andrew giggled. "If Mom was cookin', she'd make us fried chicken and mashed potatoes." "Yum," James said, rubbing his stomach. "And what about your dad? Do you miss him?" Shrugging, Andrew replied, "He takes good care of us." James noticed that Andrew never answered the question, and one more piece of the puzzle fell into place for him. His heart suddenly ached for the lonely twelve-year-old sitting there next to him, so he squeezed Andrew's shoulder. Andrew looked up and smiled at James. James' eyes didn't seem so old anymore. There was the beginning of a sparkle there. "Why are you here?" Andrew asked. "Huh? What do you mean?" "Well, you're a Penitent, right? And that means you started out as an Applicant, like me. What did you do to get in trouble and get sent here for healin'?" James smiled sadly. "Not everyone gets in trouble before coming here. Some of us volunteered to come." Andrew nodded. "Then you volunteered, huh?" James ducked his head. "Yes." "What happened?" James sighed. "I was 22. She was 18, a member of the parish where I'd just been assigned. She was so happy whenever she saw me. She touched my arm whenever she could, and I let her, because it made me feel warm and excited inside. I never touched her back, but I wanted to. I wanted to ... do more with her, but my vows to the Church were everything to me, so I came here, to drive those thoughts away. To keep myself from destroying what I had." "You loved her, didn'cha?" James nodded. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Andrew scooted around and threw his arms around James' chest, giving him a hard hug. "It's okay, James. You're a nice guy, and ya' didn't do nothin' wrong? Don't cry." James chuckled. "Who's the Penitent here? I'm the one that's supposed to be counseling you!" Andrew pulled back and smiled. "Sometimes we need to hear that we ain't as bad as we think." *** "I just don't get why they keep tellin' me I'm wrong," Andrew admitted as he pulled weeds in the garden next to James. "Can you explain it to me?" James thought for a moment, then replied, "I could tell you, Andrew. But it would be better if you figured it out on your own." Andrew tugged another weed out of the ground. "It'd help a whole lot if they stopped usin' so many big words. Sometimes I don't understand a thing they're sayin'." "I agree with you there, Andrew." "So how come they keep sayin' it was wrong for me to have fun with Father Downing?" "Well, Andrew. I shouldn't say this, but I don't agree with the instructors. I think you're just a kid who was trying out new things, so I don't see what was wrong with it. But Father Downing knew it was wrong. He knew what the Church teaches about homosexuality, so it was wrong for him to have sex with another man, or with a boy like yourself. It was also wrong for him to treat you nice so you would have sex with him." "I sorta get all that, but there's somethin' else I don't get." "What's that?" "Well, havin' sex with another guy is a sin, right? But so is tellin' a lie, ain't it?" "Yes, both of those are wrong." "Then why do they get mad at me when I tell them the truth, about how much fun it was to be with Father Downing. About how he made me laugh and was nice to me. If I said he was doin' it so he could have sex with me, that would be a lie, `cause sometimes he did it just to make me happy, `cause he knew how unhappy I was at home and at school. Don't they want to hear the truth?" James stared at the very confused little boy standing before him. "I suppose they have a different idea about what the truth is, Andrew." "Then they ain't very good priests." James tried not to smile. The kid had a good point. *** Father Timothy interrupted their work in the garden and called them inside. "You have a phone call," he explained. Andrew's eyes lit up. "Who is it?" "Your father. Follow me." Timothy took them into an office and pointed at a phone on a desk. Andrew sat down and picked up the phone. "Hello?" "Andrew, it's your father." "Hi, Daddy. I miss you." "Yes, we miss you too, Andrew. How is the Retreat?" "Some things are okay. They have a garden, and James--I mean, Penitent James--showed me how to tie up the tomato vines so they won't rot on the ground." "Yes, that's nice, Andrew. Listen, son, I called because I'm hearing that you aren't cooperating with the staff there like you should." "I'm tryin' my best, Daddy." "You need to try harder, Andrew. You know you can't come home until you're healed. You do want to come home, don't you?" Andrew nodded and sobbed. "Yes, sir." "Then you need to do whatever they ask you to do." "Yes, sir." "Pay attention and listen. They will teach you everything you need to know to get better." "Yes, sir." "Okay. I need to get back to work now." "Can I talk to Momma?" "She's at home. I'll let her know we talked. Goodbye, son." "Bye, Daddy." Andrew swallowed his pain as he hung up the phone. Father Timothy watched, frowning. When Andrew looked up, Timothy said, "Once again, I implore you, before the Living God, to reject the actions of Father Downing for what they are: a horrific sin in the eyes of God." Andrew shrugged. "If y'all say so." *** Andrew was led into a room with a desk and a computer. Father Timothy positioned him in front of the desk and ordered him to remove his robe. "But I'm naked underneath," Andrew objected. "We know," Timothy replied. "Remove your robe." Andrew slowly untied the cord that served as a belt, watching with horror as the tissues slid out from between his cock and the robe and fell to the floor at his feet. Father Timothy blew out his breath, exasperated but not surprised. He'd seen it before. He motioned impatiently for Andrew to remove the robe. Andrew lifted the scratchy robe over his head and held it in front of his body. Father Timothy held out his hand. Reluctantly, Andrew handed over the robe, then covered himself with his cupped hands. Timothy handed the robe to James and motioned for Andrew to sit down in the chair in front of the desk. "Place your hands on the arms of the chair," Timothy ordered. "But you'll see my ... my stuff." "Do as you're told, Applicant." Andrew took a deep breath and obeyed. He was so embarrassed. Even so, his soft cock was still impressive as it rested over his plum-sized balls. The hair on his pubis was getting thicker too. He looked much older than twelve. Father Timothy touched a button on the keyboard, causing the computer screen to come to life. He moved the mouse and clicked an icon. The screen began displaying images of naked men, one after another, in various states of arousal. "Eyes on the screen, Andrew. Keep your hands on the arms of the chair." Andrew was shocked. He'd never seen images quite like these before. He knew what they were, of course. All the boys talked about porn, but Andrew had never had a chance to see it. Now, right there in front of him, were pictures of naked dudes with big, hard cocks. Andrew couldn't help it. His own cock started to bone up. He started to cover himself, but Timothy smacked his hand. "Hands on the arms of the chair." Andrew closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't see the pictures, his cock would stop growing. "Eyes open." "But I'm gettin' a ..." He couldn't say it, not in front of these men. "That is the point of this lesson. Watch the pictures. Keep your hands on the chair." Andrew did as he was told. His cock kept growing and growing. James looked away, embarrassed for the boy. Father Timothy stopped the screen show and said, "Look at me, Applicant Andrew." Andrew looked up at Timothy's scowling face. Timothy continued, "The men of Sodom lusted for one another. When angels came to visit that sinful town, the men demanded that the angels be sent out to them so they could rape them. God was rightfully disgusted with those men, and he destroyed them for their sin." Andrew's boner began to droop. It was a relief. He still didn't understand why they were doing this, and he hated being naked in front of everyone, but at least he wasn't hard anymore. Timothy turned back to the computer and started the pictures again. He forced Andrew to watch, and when the inevitable once again popped up, he paused the screen show again and lectured Andrew one more time on the sins of homosexuality. More pictures. More lectures. Two hours later, Andrew was desperate for relief. Precum was beginning to leak out, further humiliating him. Finally Timothy called a halt to the exercise and handed Andrew the rough robe. "Get dressed," he ordered. Turning to James, Timothy said, "Bread and water only for lunch today. Then prayer and Scripture reading this afternoon. Bread and water for dinner as well." James nodded. He understood what he had to do, but he was beginning to hate his role in this. Father Timothy stomped out of the room. Andrew watched him go, not understanding why the man was so angry. He didn't know what he'd done wrong. He'd tried his best. If only they would tell him what they wanted, he would do it. He wanted to be healed. He wanted to go home. As James led Andrew out of the room, they heard Father Timothy speaking with Father Albez at the end of the hallway. "There is no choice," Timothy was saying. "We must attempt the most extreme measures, with your permission, of course." "Granted," Albez said, turning and walking away. *** The next day started the same. Andrew was forced to strip and stand before the computer, naked, with his hands at his side, and watch the pictures of men with erections parade across the screen. When his cock swelled up, Timothy ordered Andrew to hold out his hands. Timothy tied Andrew's hands together securely with a course piece of twine. Then he turned Andrew and walked him to a wall at one side of the room, marching him forward until he stood facing the wall. Lifting Andrews hands, Timothy stretched them as high as Andrew could reach and slipped the twine over a hook in the wall. Andrew looked over his shoulder, frightened and alarmed. "What's goin' on?" "Silence, Applicant," Timothy snapped. He opened a drawer and took out a leather strap. Holding it in one hand, he stared at Andrew's naked back and said, "The flesh is our enemy. We must master it. We must beat the flesh into submission, forcing it to obey the spirit." With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the leather strap flying through the air to strike Andrew's back. Andrew screamed. "Silence." Timothy pulled his hand back and whipped the strap against Andrew's legs. Andrew began crying. "Why are you doin' this to me?" "The flesh must not control the heart." Another sharp crack, across his buttocks this time. Andrew began jerking at the binding on his hands that held him against wall, screaming for them to let him go. Timothy walked forward and slipped a gag over Andrew's head, forcing it down and into the boy's mouth. He turned Andrew's head so he was forced to watch the pictures of the men on the computer screen. Andrew's erection had wilted under the lash of the leather strap, but it quickly filled up again as he saw one large cock after another on the screen. Timothy stepped back and whipped Andrew again. "The flesh must submit. We beat it until it succumbs to the power of God." Andrew bit into the gag and sagged against the wall as blow after blow struck his quivering body. *** Andrew allowed James to pull off his robe, whimpering when the welts on his back stung from the coarse fabric dragging across his skin. James threw the robe to one side and guided Andrew to the bed. Andrew collapsed facedown, not caring that he was naked in front of James, not caring about anything anymore. James opened a jar and scooped out salve. He applied it carefully to the bright red stripes on Andrew's back, gently rubbing the healing ointment into the swollen skin. Andrew sobbed. The salve seemed to take away the pain wherever James rubbed it. Working down Andrew's back, his buttocks, his thighs, James slowly eased Andrew's suffering. When he'd covered the last red welt, James carefully pulled a sheet over Andrew's naked body. The boy had fallen asleep at one point, so James turned out the light and closed the door. Standing in the hallway, he leaned back against the door, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn't shake the memory of the boy's body quivering under the lash of the strap and the boy's whimpering sobs. "Penitent James?" James opened his eyes and saw Father Timothy walking down the hall. "Yes, sir." "How is the boy?" "Asleep now. I used the salve as you directed, and it seemed to ease his pain." "Excellent. The body will heal, but the soul will not as long as sin is present in the flesh. Have him work in the garden with you for the next three days. Then we will try again." James nodded. Father Timothy continued down the hall, his hands clasped behind his back. Those hands that had held that leather strap and torn a boy's flesh were now calmly clasped as though nothing unusual had occurred that day. James stared down at his own hands, oily with the salve he'd rubbed into the boy's wounds, and he wept. The end of MISUNDERSTOOD, Chapter Ten