The Young Bishop

“Bishop!” A quiet whisper cut through the lazy, summer breeze and suddenly brought the young Bishop back to his senses. He dropped his gaze from the giant statue depicting Saint Adam’s first marriage: Adam skipping merrily in the garden, bare-chested, bare-backed, and his tumescence swinging gaily, while just behind him, the glowing sacred seed dripped from his holy place.

It was a shiny, black Basalt sculpture found in front of all the old churches but like all the others, it was missing it’s better half. Where there once stood, the proud statue of Adam’s Husband, there only remained the stump of his anointed feet. His legs, body, and face destroyed forever during the Invasion of the Bastards. Not a single one within the four corners of the earth remained intact, the image of Adam’s Husband was lost forever.

Bishop Leo had lost all sense of time, drawn in by the allure and innocence of Saint Adam’s free nature.  He longed for one of the saint to spring to life and kneel before him as he had before the Highest One, his Husband. He longed to feel the saint twitching, and gyrating as he pushed himself inside, feeling the sacred seed dripping down from the saint’s holy place onto his hardness. How he longed to be inside Adam, the Father of all Men. His seed mixing with the sacred seed of the Highest One. To be so close to all the saints, all the angels, all that has ever been good. How lucky he would be, if the saint would just jump to life and kneel before him.

But that was fantasy. The statue had stood there for centuries and it wouldn’t turn to flesh to mark the arrival of the young Bishop. The Bishop stood at six foot seven, impressive even for a Bastard, and arms so strong they could crush a man’s skull. In all honesty he looked nothing like a Bishop. The cream fabric of his travelling robes clung to his golden-brown skin. And sweat dripped from down his forehead and through his braided jet-black hair.

“Welcome Bishop, perhaps I should take you to your quarters so you can appreciate St Adam’s statue in private” the Bishop immediately gripped his hardness and tried to tuck it between his legs, but it only swung back up with full force.

“Well, what better way to show God’s glory,” the Bishop said as he pushed his hips forward so the young Brother could see it pitched under the travelling robe.

“Bishop, I don’t what it is about this statue that causes men to forget their modesty,” the Brother said as he picked up the Bishop’s small bag.

Bishop Leo wasn’t quite used to being called a Bishop yet. He was only 24 and the whole town knew he was one of the Archbishop’s literal bastards. One father was a Holy Man and the other a descendent of the Bastards or the Invaders as they were still called in some circles.

The wrong half of the Bishop’s ancestors could be traced back to the brutal invaders who destroyed all depictions of the Highest One and all but a few Holy Texts from the time of Angels. The Bastards had waged war in an effort to destroy the church. When they failed, they filled every hole in the known land with their seed and only a handful of pure tribes remained.  After centuries living side by side, the Invasion was water under the bridge for most. But not to the Bastards who had kept their roots over the centuries. They were determined to destroy the church from within. They were secretly fathering dozens of bastards and giving them positions in the most important churches. But these bastards were no Holy Men, they were blood thirsty warriors, waiting to strike, waiting to destroy what was left of the Holy Church.

Bishop Leo had been raised to walk among the Holy Men as one of their own. One of his fathers was a Holy Man but the other one was a purebred Bastard. From the age of 4, Bishop Leo already knew 6 ways to break a man’s knees. But his other father had also taught him about the church. About Adam, the Highest One and the Prophecy of the Second Coming. His Archbishop father only saw him on Sundays and never knew he was being trained to be a killer. So when he became of age. He summoned for his son to become a Bishop unaware he was helping to fulfil the Bastard’s quest for revenge.

As the young Bishop was leaving home for the last time, his Bastard father whispered in his ear. “Make your ancestors proud. Find every Son of Suna within the church and fill them Seed of the Sinner. Fill every hole you can find; the sacred seed must be smeared with Seed of the Sinner. Do this and you will usher the New Age. The Age of the Bastard.”

His father placed a small book in his pocket, written in the ancient language of the Bastards. Though not proficient in the language, the Bishop knew the words on the cover, Beelzebub, Father of Abominations.

But Bishop Leo had never believed in the Bastard’s plot. He had taken his theology studies seriously not so he could infiltrate it and destroy but so he could be one of the Holy Men. But of course, he had Bastard blood in his veins. The thirst for blood, and the desire to plant his seed was always on his mind, even as the goodness of the Highest One tried to fill his spirit. A war within him was being waged, the battle for his soul.

And as he stood in front of the church, the ordained Brother standing just a few feet from him, he could hear his father’s words echoing in his mind. “Seed every Son of Suna you can find. Ever last one.”

“This is much harder than I thought!” Leo muttered under his breath.

But as he stood before the statue of Adam, Leo became filled with so much love for the Highest One. So much love for Saint Adam that he could not help it.

“Pray with me, Brother…”

“Brother Mish,” the young novitiate answered. “We can pray inside, Bishop.”

“No, Brother Mish. We must praise the Highest One. Give thanks to the First Saint. The Father of all Men.”

The Bishop stepped towards the statue and began removing his worn sandals from his large feet. And to Brother Mish’s horror, the Bishop began pulling his robe over his head, revealing his hairy calves, his thick thighs, his hard…

“Bishop! The brothers must not be tempted with…”

“Oh my beautiful Brother Mish. Won’t you join me and give thanks to the Father of all men. Wearing only what he himself wore, nothing but God’s love. Take my hand Brother.”

Brother Mish who was forbidden from touching another man could barely resist taking the Bishop’s unwavering hand. The look of pure bliss on the Bishop’s raised face as he gazed into the eyes of Saint Adam, as though he were seeing God himself. While through it all his hardness became larger, reddened from the glaring sun and a clear drool tentatively drooping from the tip.

Brother Mish, found his loins stirring to life. He looked behind him hoping one of the brothers would wander out of the church and save him from the stirrings. He ran his hand through the tight curls of his soft auburn hair. Though he was dressed in the novitiate’s robe, the fabric was so fine that he knew the Bishop could see every inch of his toned body. He was much shorter than the Bishop and so his hardness was dangerously close to his eye level. He could already feel his jaw instinctively relaxing while his mouth was so wet from anticipation he was certain he was drooling.

“I am a Son of Suna,” the young Brother declared indignantly. “I am not to touch or be touched by another man. Least of all a B-“

“Bastard?”

“Bishop! Least of all a bishop. I am not to be touched. Bishop!”

“Fine,” the Bishop said, lifting his gaze from the Brother and back to the giant Statue. “At least pray with me, Brother Mish. Our flesh might not be touching, but our souls can still be one in the face of the Highest One. Will you say the prayer, Brother Mish.”

“Oh yes, Bishop. I want that.” Brother Mish responded, trying to keep his eyes from the Bishop’s glory.

“Pray for me Brother Mish. Saint Adam’s prayer,” the Bishop said. And Brother Mish dropped to his knees and looking up at the Bishop who stood with his arms and hardness spread out to the Heavens.

Hail Adam, Father of all Men. Seeder of all Earth.

Hail Adam, the First Creation of the Highest One.

Hail Adam, the First Love. The Holy Husband.

Hail Adam, Filled by the Highest One

With The Sacred Seed.

Hail Adam, Father of all Men.

Husband to the Highest One,

Keeper of the Sacred Seed.

“Amen,” both men said in unison. And a lingering gaze seemed to keep the two transfixed on each other.

The Bishop could still hear the echo of Brother’s sweet voice in his ear. A tear started running down his cheek, down his chiselled chin and landed with quiet splat on the head of his hardness. He wiped the tear off and flicked his fingers to get rid of the drool dripping from his manhood.

“That is the most beautiful prayer I’ve ever heard, Brother Mish.”

Suddenly the Bishop did not care about the mission his father had sent him on. He didn’t care about seeding all the Sons of Suna. There was only hole he wanted to fill. He wanted to do more than just fill it. He wanted to own it. He wanted it to be branded with his name on it. He wanted it to belong to him. And he wanted the man that hole belonged to all to himself.

Hail Mish, filled by the horniest one with the Bastard’s seed, The Bishop thought to himself leering at Brother Mish.

The Sons of Suna see and hear everything Bishop, a sweet voice said in the Bishop’s head as Brother Mish rose to his feet, a naughty smile on his face.

Legend had it that the Sunanites could hear other men’s thoughts. Could it be? Everything that had been on his mind since he’d seen the brother. The way he had undressed him in his mind and thrown him on the hard pavement and spread his…

The Bishop felt embarrassed as he realised he was filling his mind with more filthiness for the Brother to hear. But then he had made a vow before Adam that he would make Brother Mish his, whatever it took. He held his hardness like a baton with one hand and smacked it firmly on the palm of the other hand. With tight grip on his madness, and his eyes locked on Brother Mish’s face, he thought, I will make a Bastard out of you, Son of Suna.