The Game
(The church gym is humming with the energy of a full-on basketball game. Men of all ages run up and down the court, sneakers squeaking on the polished wood. Today's game is 'shirts vs. skins.' Joshua is on the 'shirts' team, his dry-fit t-shirt clinging to his lean frame. He's nervous, his eyes darting around the gym, always searching for one person.)
(On the other team, Bishop Landon takes off his shirt. He throws it on the bench. Joshua's breath catches. Landon's body is a study in athletic perfection: broad shoulders, a deep chest with a light spread of dark hair, cut abs that catch the gym light, and big, strong arms with veins that coil as he moves. He looks like a Greek god, even at 35.)
(Joshua is spellbound. His eyes follow Landon as he runs the court, the muscles in his back rippling with each dribble, the sweat making his skin glossy. Landon catches him staring. Joshua's face flushes and he snatches his gaze away, focusing on the ball he's supposed to be guarding.)
(It happens again and again. Landon goes for a layup, his body extended in a beautiful line. Joshua stares. Landon looks over, an amused, questioning arch to his eyebrow. Joshua looks away, his heart pounding. Landon is defending him, their bodies close. Joshua's eyes drop to Landon's chest, the sweat trails disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. Landon catches him looking again. This time, he doesn't look amused. He looks offended, his gaze holding Joshua's for a few beats longer than necessary.
(The game continues, a blur of movement and shouts. But Joshua is no longer in the game. He is in his head, in a fantasy. He imagines himself in Landon's big, strong arms. He imagines Landon holding him from behind, the warmth of his chest against his back, the power of those bronzed arms wrapped around him, making him feel safe, protected, desired.)
(A building pressure builds in his loins. It crests, and then breaks. His eyes fly open, his body arching as a relentless, ecstatic orgasm rips through him. It's not a spurt; it's a flood. He feels the spill in his shorts, hot and wet. He tries to stop it, to hide it, but his body is not his own. A loud, involuntary moan escapes his lips, cutting through the sound of the game.)
(The game comes to a halt. A few guys look over, confused. Landon stops mid-stride and turns toward the sound. He sees Joshua, standing rigid, his face a white mask of terror, his body still trembling. His eyes meet Landon's for one terrifying moment. Then he turns and runs, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.)
(He bursts into the bathroom, locking himself in the far stall. He slides down the wall and sits on the cold tile floor, the wet in his shorts growing cold and clammy. He pulls his knees to his chest and weeps, racing through what just happened, the looks on Landon's face, the humiliation of it all. He doesn't even have paper towels to clean up with. He's trapped, soaked, and destroyed.)
----
The Love Confession
(Joshua sits in Landon's office, his hands clutching the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white. He looks like he hasn't slept in days-- dark circles under his eyes, his face pale and gaunt. Landon sits opposite him, his expression a mask of concerned patience.)
"It's not working," Joshua whispers, his voice raspy. "Nothing is working. The prayer, the meditation, the scriptures-- none of it stops the thoughts. They just get stronger. More detailed. More..."
(He trails off, shaking his head.)
"I can smell you in my dreams now. I can feel the weight of your body on mine. I wake up and for a few seconds, I think it's real. I think you're there. And then I'm alone, and it hurts so much. It hurts more than the guilt."
(He looks up, and for the first time, there is no shame in his eyes-- only a raw, broken honesty.)
"I love you, Landon. Not like a friend. Not like a mentor. I love you. I want to be with you. I want to be held by you. I want to kiss you. I want you to make love to me. Every fantasy I have, it ends with you holding me, telling me you love me too."
(Tears finally break free and stream down his face.)
"I know how wrong it is. I know. You're married. You're my bishop. The Bible says it's a sin. I've prayed and prayed for God to take these feelings away. He won't He just won't. So maybe..."
(He pauses, his voice dropping to almost a whisper.)
"Maybe we need to try something else. Something more... drastic. I don't know what. But this is killing me, Landon. I can't live like this anymore."
(He buries his face in his hands, shaking with sobs. The room is dead silent--except for his sobs--for a long time.)
----
Landon's Response
(Landon sits completely still, his face unreadable. His jaw is tense, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He stares at Joshua for a long, drawn-out moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower and rougher than usual.)
"Joshua. Look at me."
(Joshua looks up, his face wet and swollen.)
"What you just said... I hear you. I hear the depth of your pain, and I hear the honesty in your confession. This is beyond simple temptation now. THis is a full-blown spiritual and emotional entanglement."
(He stands and paces slowly, his hands clasped behind his back.)
"You say nothing is working. You say you love me. And you're right--we may need to consider more drastic measures."
(He stops pacing and faces Joshua, his eyes boring into him.)
"Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to refer you to a Christian therapist I trust-- one who helps men move past unwanted perversions. This is beyond what I can handle alone as your pastor. I'm going to require that you attend a session with him twice a week."
(He pauses, letting that sink in.)
"Second, I need you to take a break from our one-on-one meetings for a while. We'll still see each other at church functions, but the intense one-on-one time needs to stop. It's becoming a focus for your feelings."
(His voice hardens, the authoritative pastor coming to the fore.)
"And third, and this is the most important: you need to accept that you may never be free from these feelings in this life. Some people are given a thorn in their flesh that does not depart. Your job is not to eliminate the feelings, but to refuse to act on them. To bring them to God every single day and say, 'Here it is again, Lord. I give it to You.'"
(He sits down again, leaning forward, the intensity in his eyes softening just a little.)
"I'm not going to lie to you, Joshua. What you said here today... it affects me. It's heavy. But my role is not to be your lover; it's to be your shepherd. And a shepherd sometimes has to make the painful decision to lead the sheep away from himself for the sheep's own good."
(He reaches out and for just a moment, places his hand on Joshua's knee.)
"You said you love me. I believe you. And because I believe you, I need to do what's best for your soul, even if it hurts both of us."
(He sits back, the connection broken.)
"Will you go to the therapist?"
(Joshua sits there, shattered, but he nods his head.)
"Yes. I'll try."
(Landon nods firmly.)
"Then that's where we start. Go home, Joshua. Rest. I'll make the call tomorrow."
----
The Therapy Session
(Dr. Nicholas Santini's office is warm and inviting, nothing like the cold, formal places Joshua imagined. There are plants, soft lighting, and a couch that looks comfortable. Dr. Santini himself is a man in his early 50s with a gentle, graying beard and kind eyes. He speaks in a soft, measured tone.)
"Joshua, I've been thinking a lot about what you told me last session. These intense fantasies about Bishop Landon--I believe they aren't the root cause. They're a symptom."
(Joshua looks up, confused.)
"A symptom of what?"
"Of shame. In my experience, when someone experiences intense, often sexualized fantasies that they find distressing, it's often the mind's way of dealing with overwhelming feelings of shame. The fantasy becomes a release valve. If we can deal with the shame at its source, the fantasies will lose their power."
(Joshua frowns, processing this.)
"So what's causing the shame?"
"That's what I'd like to explore with you today. Tell me about your mother."
(Joshua tenses. He looks down at his hands, fidgeting.)
"She's... she's a good mother. She loves me."
"I don't doubt that. But how does she show that love?"
(A long pause.)
"She's just... she's always watching. Always correcting. If I sit the wrong way, she points it out. If I eat too fast, she makes a comment. Everything I do, there's a right way and a wrong way, and she's always there to make sure I know the difference."
"How does that make you feel?"
"Like I'm never good enough. Like I'm always on the verge of doing something wrong. Like she's waiting for me to fail so she can say 'I told you so.'"
"And if you do make a mistake, or do something she disapproves of, what happens?"
(Joshua shrugs, but there is pain in his eyes.)
"The long silences. The disappointed looks. Sometimes she won't talk to me for a day or two. She says it's because she's so disappointed she can't even look at me."
(Dr. Santini nods gently.)
"That sounds incredibly painful. It sounds like you've been conditioned to believe that you are inherently flawed, and that your very being is a disappointment. That is a heavy burden."
(He pauses, letting the silence hold.)
"Joshua, I think the fantasies about Bishop Landon are a way for you to escape this burden. In them, you are not being judged. You are being held, cherished, and desired. It's the opposite of what you experience at home."
(Joshua looks up, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.)
"I never thought of it like that."
"So here's what I propose. We need to find you a healthier outlet for this need. Something that makes you feel strong, confident, and accepted. Something that helps you feel like a man."
(Joshua frowns.)
"Like what?"
"I don't know yet. Martial arts? Rock climbing? Have you ever done something that challenges you physically and helps you connect with your body in a positive way?"
(Joshua shakes his head.)
"Not really. My mom thought sports were a distraction from my studies."
"Well, I'd like you to consider trying something. It doesn't have to be extreme. Even joining a gym or going for regular runs. Something that's just for you. We can talk more about this next time."
(Joshua nods slowly. It feels like a small glimmer of hope in a very dark place.)
----
The Transformation
(Two months have passed. Joshua is in the church gym, but this time he's not playing basketball. He's in the weight room, his face flushed with effort as he pushes through a set of bench presses. He's filled out noticeably--his shoulders are broader, his arms more defined. There's a new confidence in his posture.)
(Landon walks in, a towel around his neck, having just finished his own workout. He stops and watches Joshua for a moment, a smile breaking out on his face.)
"Wow, Joshua. Look at you. You're getting ripped!"
(Joshua finishes his rep and sets the barbell back on the rack. He grins, a genuine, ear-to-ear grin that lights up his whole face.)
"You think so?"
"I know so. You've been at it consistently, and it shows. Keep it up!"
(The praise hits Joshua differently than it used to. There's no heat in his cheeks, no racing heart, no flood of shameful fantasies. He just feels... proud. Happy. Like a son who just made his father proud.)
"Thanks, Landon. That means a lot."
(Landon claps him on the shoulder-- a friendly, platonic gesture.)
"Keep it up. I love seeing this dedication in you."
(Later, they sit in the gym's small juice bar area, sipping protein shakes.)
"Landon, I wanted to tell you something. Something's changed."
(Landon raises an eyebrow, attentive.)
"When you complimented me before, it didn't happen. You know, the fantasies. I didn't have any. I just felt... good. Normal. Like I was just a guy getting a pat on the back from his mentor."
(Landon's face lights up with genuine happiness.)
"Joshua, that's fantastic. Really. That shows that the therapy is working. You're finding healthier ways to get that need for approval and acceptance met."
(He leans forward, his eyes kind.)
"Keep doing what you're doing. Keep lifting. Keep talking to Dr. Santini. You're on the right path."
(Joshua nods, a sense of peace settling over him for the first time in months.)
"Thank you, Landon."
----
The Setback
(Joshua bursts through the front door, still humming with the endorphins from his workout and the glow of Landon's praise. His mother is in the kitchen, prepping dinner.)
"Hey, Mom. Look!"
(He flexes his biceps, puffing his chest out a little. His mother glances up, her face unimpressed, then looks back down at the salad she's making.)
"That's nice honey. Aunt Gladys needs you fix her skirt with your sewing machine."
(The words hit Joshua like a slap. His arm drops. He stands there for a moment, deflated, then turns and walks silently to his room.)
(He closes the door and leans against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. The high is gone, replaced by a familiar, crushing sense of emasculation and worthlessness. He's not a man. He's nothing. He can never please his mother. He can never be good enough.)
(He closes his eyes, and the only place he can escape to is the one he's tried so hard to leave. He pictures Landon. He pictures himself on his knees, looking up. He imagines Landon's cock--thick, heavy, a symbol of everything he isn't. He imagines taking it in his mouth, feeling its weight on his tongue. He imagines wrapping his tongue around it, sucking gently, and hearing Landon moan in pleasure. In the fantasy, Landon puts a hand on his head, and it feels like a blessing.)
(He jerks off quickly, furiously, the orgasm a sharp, brief release. When it's over, he just feels empty and disgusted with himself. He cleans up mechanically and lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling, hating himself.)
----
The Next Session
(Joshua sits on the couch in Dr. Santini's office, his shoulders hunched, his eyes red-rimmed. He can't meet the therapist's gaze.)
"I had a moment of weakness."
(Dr. Santini nods gently, his expression calm and accepting.)
"Tell me about it."
(Joshua takes a shaking breath.)
"I went home feeling really good after my workout. Landon had complimented me. I was proud. I showed my mom, and she... she couldn't care less. To her, I'm just an effete little weakling with a sewing machine."
(He finally looks up.)
"And it just... destroyed me. All the good feelings just drained away. I felt like a little kid again. Worthless."
(He pauses, swallowing hard.)
"And then I went to my room, and I... I had the fantasies again. About Landon. About performing sexual acts on him. And I jerked off. I felt like I was right back where I started."
(He buries his face in his hands.)
"I'm sorry. I feel like I failed."
(Dr. Santini lets a moment of silence pass before speaking.)
"Joshua, look at me."
(Joshua looks up, tears in his eyes.)
"You did not fail. This is not a failure. This is a setback. And setbacks are a normal, expected part of any recovery. The goal isn't perfection. The goal is progress. And you have made immense progress."
(He leans forward earnestly.)
"Think about what happened. You experienced a trigger--your mother's comment. That trigger elicited a deeply ingrained response: shame and self-loathing. That is a pattern that has been built over a lifetime. It's not going to disappear overnight."
(He pauses.)
"But look at what happened next. You relapsed into the fantasy, yes. But then you came here and told me about it. That's not the behavior of someone who has failed. That's the behavior of someone who is fighting. You brought the secret back into the light. That takes courage."
(Joshua listens, a glimmer of doubt mixed with a finger of hope.)
"So what do I do now?"
"We do what we've been doing. We keep working. We talk about how that interaction with your mother made you feel. We explore the connection between that feeling and the fantasy. ANd we practice self-compassion. You are not bad for having a setback. You are human.'
(Joshua takes a shaky breath.)
"Okay. I'll try."
"That's all I ask. Now, tell me more about what it felt like when your mother said that. Really dig into it."
(The session continues, slowly, painfully, but productively. Joshua is learning that healing is not a straight line.)
----
The Confrontation
(After his therapy session ends, Joshua goes home. He walks into the living room where his mother is reading a magazine. His hands are shaking, but he's determined. He's never done this before.)
"Mom. We need to talk."
(She looks up, a slightly amused expression on her face.)
"Oh? This sounds serious."
(Joshua takes a deep breath.)
"I was trying to show you my physique before and you changed the subject to sewing. It really hurt. It made me feel like I'm not good enough. Like I'm less of a man."
(His mother's eyebrows rise, and then she does something that makes his blood run cold. She laughs. A little chuckle, dismissive and condescending.)
"Oh, Joshua. You're so sensitive. You don't need to get so upset over every little thing."
(Her tone is airy, disingenuous. She gives a little wave of her hand.)
"But fine. Sorry, honey."
(It's not an apology. It's a dismissal. Joshua stands there for a moment, seething, before turning and stalking to his room. He slams the door.)
----
In His Room
(He paces back and forth, his body tense with a fury he's never felt before. He needs an outlet. He closes his eyes, and the fantasy that comes is darker, more hardcore than anything before. He imagines Landon pinning him down, fucking him violently. The image is powerful, overwhelming.)
(He opens his eyes. The fantasy isn't enough. He needs something real. Something of Landon's. He grabs his keys and sneaks out the back door.)
----
At Landon's House
(It's late. The house is dark. Joshua's heart pounds as he slips around the back. He tests the door. Unlocked. He slides in, his breathing shallow.)
(He moves through the dark house, knowing exactly where the master bedroom is from previous church gatherings. He creeps inside. The room is quiet except for the sound of Landon's deep, even breathing. He and his wife are both asleep.)
(Joshua's eyes adjust to the dark. He sees a hamper in the corner. He creeps towards it, his hands trembling. He delves in and his fingers brush against fabric. He pulls out a pair of Landon's dirty boxer briefs.)
(He brings them to his face and inhales deeply. The smell hits him like a truck--musky, male, intimate. It's overwhelming. He feels a wave of bliss, a weird sense of closeness, as if he's finally gotten what he's been craving. He starts furiously jerking off, his face pressed into the fabric, lost in the sensation.)
(A sharp intake of breath. The bed creaks.)
"What the hell-- JOSHUA?!"
(Joshua's eyes snap open. Landon is sitting up in bed, staring at him in the dark, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. Landon's wife looks at Joshua, and then pulls the covers over her face to hide. Joshua freezes, the underwear still pressed to his face, his erect penis in his hand. Time stops.)
(Landon's face contorts through a multitude of emotions: shock, disgust, anger, and finally, a deep, hurt disappointment. He speaks in a low, dangerous voice.)
"What... are you doing? In my house? With my..."
(He can't even finish the sentence. He just stares, his jaw clenched.)
(Joshua drops the underwear as if it's on fire. He starts backing away, his hands up, words trying to escape his parched throat.)
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I just-- my mom-- she-- I needed--"
(He bursts into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, his whole body shaking.)
(Landon sits there for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he sighs, a deep, weary sound. He runs a hand over his face.)
"Get out, Joshua. Go home. We'll talk about this in the morning. Go."
(Joshua nods frantically and bolts for the door, his sobs echoing down the hallway.)
----
The Fallout
(The next day, Joshua sits across from Landon in a neutral location-- a quiet coffee shop outside town. Landon's face is serious, weary, but kind. Joshua can't meet his eyes.)
"Joshua, I want you to know that I forgive you. What happened last night... you were not in a good place. You were hurting, and you made a terrible choice. But I don't hold it against you."
(Joshua looks up, hope flickering in his eyes.)
(Landon takes a deep breath.)
"But I can't be your pastor anymore. It's not appropriate for you to be around me, knowing the effect that I have on you. It's not healthy for your recovery. You need to find a new church, a new pastor. Someone who can guide you without this... complication."
(Joshua's face crumples. Tears well up.)
"But you're the only one who ever made me feel like I mattered."
(Landon's eyes are sad, but he holds his ground.)
"And that's part of the problem. You've become too attached to me. Your worth needs to come from within, not from my approval. You can do this, Joshua. You have the strength. You've already proven that in the gym."
(Joshua sobs quietly for a moment, then nods, accepting the inevitable.)
"Okay. I... understand. Goodbye, Landon."
(He stands and walks away, his shoulders shaking. Landon watches him go, his eyes full of a profound sadness.)
----
Back Home
(Joshua bursts through the front door. His mother is in the living room, as usual. His face is red and swollen from crying. He confronts her, his voice shaking with anger.)
"This is all your fault!"
(Her eyebrows rise in amusement.)
"Whatever are you talking about now?"
"Landon! He's kicked me out of the church! I can't see him anymore! And it's because of you! Your constant picking, your cruel comments, your way of making me feel like I'm nothing. I lost the only person who ever made me feel like I mattered, and it's your fault!"
(His mother stares at him for a moment. Then she does it. She laughs. A low, chuckling laugh that says everything and nothing.)
"Oh, Joshua. You and your dramatics. You'll be fine. You always find something new to get obsessed over."
(The laughter is the final straw. It's not just dismissive; it's cruel. Joshua sees red. He turns and bolts out the door again.)
----
Back at Landon's
(He pulls up in front of Landon's house, barely putting the car in park before he's out and running to the front door. He hammers on it with his fists.)
(Landon opens the door, his face a mixture of shock and concern.)
"Joshua? What are you--"
(Joshua doesn't let him finish. He drops to his knees on the doorstep, clutching at Landon's legs, tears pouring down his face.)
"Please! Please, Landon! Just fuck me one time! Just one time! Hold me, make me feel like I matter, and then I'll never ask again! I'll go away! I'll leave you alone! I'll do anything! Just please. I need you. I love you. I love you so much it's killed me. Just one fuck. One pity fuck! I'm begging you! Please, just fuck me one time! Please, Landon, please, please, please..."
(His words devolve into incoherent sobbing, his body shaking uncontrollably as he clings to Landon's legs. He is a complete, shattered mess.)
(Landon stands there, rigid as a statue. His face is a white mask of horror, pity, and a deep, agonizing conflict. He doesn't touch Joshua. He doesn't move. He just stands there, looking down at the boy he tried so hard to help, shattered on his doorstep.)
(A long, horrifying silence hangs in the air.)
----
The Rejection
(Landon stares down at the hulking, sobbing figure clung to his legs. The initial shock hardens into something else-- a fierce, protective anger. Not at Joshua, but at the situation. At the desperation. At the way this boy has been broken. His voice, when it comes, is low and furious.)
"Get. Up."
(Joshua doesn't move. He just clings tighter and wails harder.)
"I SAID GET UP!"
(Landon reaches down, grabs Joshua by the shoulders, and physically hauls him to his feet. He holds him at arm's length, his grip bruising.)
"Listen to me, and listen carefully. You are not going to do this anymore. You are no longer going to turn me into some figure of your deranged fantasy. I am not your savior. I am not your lover. I am a married man who tried to help you, and you have violated every boundary. Now get in your car and drive away. And never, ever come back here again, or I'll kill you."
(He shoves Joshua away from him, and slams the door. Joshua stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door, then stumbles back to his car.)
----
The Attempt
(Hours later. A cheap motel room on the edge of town. Joshua sits on the edge of the bed, a bottle of pills in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other. His face is eerily calm. He twists off the child proof cap.)
(Suddenly, the door bursts open. Dr. Santini stands there, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. He rushes forward and snatches the pills and whiskey from Joshua's hands.)
"No, you don't. Not on my watch."
(Joshua just stares blankly at the wall. Dr. Santini kneels in front of him.)
"I got your text, Joshua. I got here as fast as I could. You're not alone. You're going to get through this. But you need more help than I can give you right now."
(He makes a call. Within an hour, paramedics are taking Joshua away on a stretcher. He doesn't fight. He doesn't even seem to notice.)
----
The Institution
(The room is sterile, white, and softly lit. Joshua sits on a bed, wearing the institution's dull grey scrubs. He hasn't spoken in days. The door opens, and a man walks in.)
(He's tall, with a well-groomed beard and kind, warm eyes. He wears a white coat with a nametag: "Dr. Henry." His presence is calm, grounding and masculine.)
"Good morning, Joshua. My name is Dr. Henry. I'm going to be working with you during your stay here."
(For the first time in days, something flickers in Joshua's eyes. His gaze lifts to Dr. Henry's face. He studies the strong jawline, the kind eyes, the handsome beard. A slow, small grin creeps across his face. It's a grin of recognition. Not of Dr. Henry personally, but of the pattern. Of the need. The obsession has found a new, unsuspecting focus.)
(Dr. Henry, kind and professional, smiles back, oblivious to the seed of unhealthy obsession just planted in the shattered boy before him.)
"It's nice to see you smile, Joshua. We have a lot of work to do together, but we'll take it one day at a time."
(Joshua just nods, the grin still hooked on his face. The cycle is complete. It will begin again.)
THE END
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
