So this is what its like to fall down, I thought miserably to myself. This is the afterwards of a drug. I was frozen and sick, my entire body quivering from cold and from the alcohol still coursing through my veins. And the dreams, the dreams had been like nothing else last night, blood drenched and horrifying beyond words. My arms wrapped around my front, I hugged myself, wishing I could cry as the beautiful sun embraced me through the shudders of my window, flooding my eyes until I was forced to close them.
“Beautiful sun, don’t look at me,” I wanted to cry. I didn’t want that honor, I didn’t want that grace. I belonged in the shadows, in the placid waters of a murky puddle, caught forever in the night, a slave to my own sins.
The memories came over me like the soft waves of the ocean, just coming to shore and washing back, over and over and over again. And I remembered how good it had felt, grinding my knuckles into my crotch painfully to halt the erection that threatened to come again. You would think that I’d had enough sex to last me an eternity or two. But it was insatiable. It was like the thirst that would never be quenched, frustrating me because I continually made trips to the “well”.
They had pinned me to the bed, Vegeta holding me tightly in a hug while Jurion moved down, nearly tearing my gorgeous brown pants in his haste. I had never really thought that Vegeta showed me any kind of courtesy when obtaining sex, but after Jurion, I was definitely educated in that regard. There was nothing suave about him in the “sack”, as they say. He was like a barbarian of sorts, knowing what he wanted and how to get it, but using absolutely no tact in the hunt.
I was mildly appalled as he sucked me off ridiculously hard, pleasuring me no doubt, but causing sharp amounts of pain here and there. He wasn’t soft or gentle. He was in character for what he wanted.
Vegeta, as always was my savior, his presence alone exciting me as he kissed me everywhere, his dark, imploring eyes making me swoon for his attention. Maybe it was the drugs or just my own personal preference, but even a king sized bed wasn’t big enough for the three of us. Handsome as he was, I had wanted Jurion gone.
Somewhere in the mix of my intoxication I had found myself upon the ceiling, Jurion in front, Vegeta behind. I think its probably sickeningly perverse to expound on this certain point, but I had come to notice that no matter what position we found ourselves in, Vegeta refused to be fucked. Of course, I might have phrased that better, but lets just stick with the facts rather than pretty it up with words eh? He had no problem giving it, but somewhere along the way, his pride left no room for any penetration on the receiving end. There, pretty enough for you?
How about the unedited version? He put it up the ass but wouldn’t take it. And WOW did I just sound like him! But it was true, and in the grand design of a gay Congo line, I found myself imbedded into Jurion and filled up with Vegeta.
Oh GOD but it was like nothing else! No, I suppose that’s not true is it? It was like my first blowjob, the feeling so indescribable, I’m going to make a complete ass of myself even TRYING. It was like having sex for the first time. Of course, you have to be a male to understand but controlling yourself, pacing yourself? Impossible. I was probably the worst fuck he’d ever had as not even five minutes into it, I was cuming all over his back.
I remember seeing his hands on the ceiling, the joints of his fingers either bright red or pale white as he dug them into the hard marble. His teeth were grinding into one another as I kissed his neck, pumping furiously into that hot, tight hole, sliding in pace with Vegeta who was partly to blame for my pre-ejaculation. That’s the problem with experimentation. Honestly,(and girls don’t hate me), but men are SO much tighter. It was almost painful going in, but the most pleasurable pain you can even think of.
Like being scratched at the right time, nails in your back as you bust one right inside someone. Or like having your hair yanked back right before they dig themselves inside you. And the words he spoke, well, they might have made even the sickest fetish seem relatively normal. A porn star would have turned red!
I dug my knuckles into my erection, feeling the hot and stiff muscle hard like a rock beneath my pants, almost throbbing from the memories I wouldn’t soon forget. I looked over my bare shoulder, shirtless and shivering but with no intention of saving myself from the discomfort. I deserved it. I liked it.
I wanted to wake Chi Chi up. It was an abrasive desire, I admit. But I wanted the sun to flow into her eyes, making the darkest of browns glitter gold in the light. I wanted to whisper “I love you” into her lips and “sorry” next as I prepared myself.
I wanted to bury my face into her chest and just tell her everything. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, how foolish I was to forget that, how sorry I was that I let this happen. I wanted her to gasp and sob at the things I told her, but never utter a hateful word against it.
“Forgive me,” I would plead, desperately clutching her clothes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll never do it again.”
And I would stay true to my promise. That’s the perfect wish. That I would speak with my heart and fulfill with my body. That I’d have the strength to say “no” next time. That Vegeta would accept my love for my wife, my loyalty to my family. That he would leave me alone because of that attachment. I wished that Chi Chi would understand, hug me as tightly as she had that day on the lawn, crying for me because I hadn’t the tears enough to forgive myself. And she would whisper that it was ok. That love would see us through and that she knew I’d never fail her again.
The pleasant fiction. The pretty fantasy.
The one where I actually have the strength enough to cry.
But when I looked at her, brushing away a stray hair from out of her closed eyes, I knew I’d never do it. I’d protect her from who I was, even if that meant living in this lie. I would conceal the truth from her if it meant wallowing in sin that slowly devoured my immortal soul. Anything was better than seeing that same look in her eyes that I had seen only once before, on the morning that she first decided to give up. On a morning like so many others when she’d been waiting for her mother and she’d whispered the word “divorce”. I couldn’t bare to see her like that again.
And so I brought by lips to her forehead, the tenderest of kisses, closing my tearless eyes as I pulled away.
“Forgive me,” I whispered. “I meant you no harm.”
...........
I’d never been to church, but I walked up those concrete steps as if my reluctance were but an invisible impediment of my progress, marching through the doors and beholding the dimly lit chapel. It was as I expected it to be. Decorated by grotesque and almost obscenely gory statues and icons, morbid stained glass windows, casting devilishly unholy colors upon the pulpit. A place of God, they claimed. It was as inviting as a cemetery.
Weeping came from my right, an old woman, tears splashing one after another onto her rosary beads, clutched in a dying, withered hand.
“Give him back Lord,” She wept bitterly, oblivious to my uncouth stare. “I beg you, if you’re there, give him back.”
It was too much, the silence tainted by her hushed sobs, the slight splashing of her tears a curse to my sensitive hearing. I ducked into a far away bench, staring in minute sickness at the six foot high Christ, crucified so brutally, the details so perverse that I wanted to look away. What a sacrifice, I said to myself. What a loss, (and even deeper), what a waste on a creation that had done nothing to deserve such. That had made a mockery of such a selfless sacrifice, that lived each day with no intent to earn that honor. But then, I was Saiyan. He had died for these human’s sins, did that mean that mine weren’t forgiven in His name?
I watched as thirty young boys gathered above me on the balcony over looking the preacher’s stand, singing in their prepubescent voices, hymns, I neither knew nor could understand.
But it calmed my nerves. Soothed my self hatred, for the time being. So soft were their voices. So innocent. Something I had known not long before and taken advantage of it. Innocence was not something to be possessed by adulterers. Not something to be enjoyed by one who delved into an unspoken pleasure and could not deny temptation. And still I wanted it. That was the problem.
I wanted sin. I could still feel their hands on me, Vegeta’s hot breath against my back as he pushed me against the ceiling, Jurion holding onto my front.
“You know you want this.” Vegeta had whispered against my ear.
And God, how I knew it. I still did.
I rose from the bench, staring down at the rows of creaking wood that formed it, reminding me of a coffin. Confession. Repentance. Resolution. That’s what I needed. That’s why I came.
Glancing to my far left, I spotted the object of my desire, a large box, two doors and an awaiting priest, there to reduce the weight and discontentment of my sins. It was like seeing water in the midst of an endless desert. I should have known that there were many illusions.
Cracking open the door, I was somewhat repulsed by the moldy smell, and the isolating conditions that would have normally made me positively claustrophobic, had my resolve not been so strong. But I saw the rounded, chubby outline of the priest and my fears and old quarrels with confined places were forgotten.
“Bless me father, for I have sinned.” I implored, hoping that my imitation of TV show confessions was not out of date and corny. I made the sign of a cross, surprised by the ease by which I remembered it, my elbows on my knees as I prepared myself for what was to come.
“It has been…..” I faltered. “I have never been to confession father.”
“Never, my son?” He said calmly, sweetly, in a sincere old voice. I saw his lips form the words with shadows dancing across his mouth, his kind, aged eyes peering at me through the screen that separated us.
“No,” I said softly, calmed beyond reason by his caring aura. “I’ve never needed to.”
I heard a snort from his direction, as if saying “preposterous!”
“Every man needs absolution with God, my child. Even the purest of us all is tainted by the stain of sin. With the weight of it, one cannot ascend into heaven. We need forgiveness daily.”
“Not I.” I repeated, grasping my hands together. “Admittance into heaven was never a question before. I knew that my deeds and actions more than accounted for any failures or faults on my part. And if I had any at all, I do not recall them now.”
“Then what has changed?” he asked quietly.
“I’ve sinned.” I said simply, my heart becoming heavy until I felt the strain of tears trying to build in my eyes, thought I knew they’d never fall. He let me compose myself, as I no doubt could not have spoken clearly in that remorseful state.
“I’ve sinned beyond forgiveness and I……” I choked, swallowing hard. “And I think absolution is beyond reach for me. I……. I cannot continue to deceive myself when I know what I did is wrong. How can I even enter a church of God with sins so great upon my shoulders, asking for his forgiveness with a façade of repentance? Why can I sit here when by all accounts I should have been struck down at the foot of the stairs, father?!”
“My son!” He hissed, though it was not harsh or scornful… simply a reminder. “Calm yourself. The sin cannot be this bad. God’s love is limitless, surely you know that.”
“I don’t even know if I believe in God.” I said dejectedly, knowing such a wretched comment would wound him. “I believe in what I see. I believe in what I can change, and help, and overcome.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “How can you not believe in God?”
“Perhaps I should twist the question father.” I said meanly. “How can you trust what you cannot see? How can you rely on blind faith, and never question what your eyes do not behold?”
“And what do you see my child?” He asked sincerely.
I hesitated, the hurt growing within me, as I battled the shameful tears.
“I see nothing.” I said in a shaken whisper. “I see death and I see pain, and I see nothing being done to stop it. Nothing done to heal it. They say that the end of the world has come upon us and yet your faith in God remains limitless. How can you love and believe in someone who watches from afar with the power to stop all this pain and yet doesn’t? I cannot save a child infected with an incurable disease, but had I the power, I wouldn’t hesitate. So tell me about this God, preacher. Tell me why you believe in Him so greatly, and if He does exist, how you can love Him in all his seemingly negligent ways?”
“You’re bitter young one.” He said. “Death and destruction wounds you deeply. Makes you doubt a belief that is instilled in all of us. Your faith is dying within you, and perhaps that is the root of your plunge into sin. Perhaps this disbelief is your justification.”
“You mean that I doubt God because I want to?” I said almost accusingly. “That I want Him to be nothing more than age old legend in order to free myself from guilt?”
“Would I be crazy to assume such a thing?” he asked, his wrinkled eyes squinting in order to see my shadowed profile.
“No.” I shook my head, glad that he could see this gesture. This admittance. “No you wouldn’t.”
He leaned back, momentarily giving me a chance to gather my thoughts and manners. I felt choked up, resentful. It was like my obsession with sin was being uncovered, revealed to this man, along with my secret hatred of God, that had, up until now, hidden from even my knowledge.
“Tell me about this sin, child.” I heard him say in a hushed tone, guiding me along in the confessional way. “Surely it cannot be as bad as you say.”
“That’s just it father,” I groaned, leaning over my knees and gazing towards the floor, concealed by shadows. “It is that bad. I love my wife but I….Surely you must believe me when I say that I never meant for it to happen! It was an accident father!” I cried desperately, tempted to reach towards him, as if his comfort were something physical to grab onto.
“Chi Chi is pure, and….. and kind. A wonderful mother and wife. I’ve never desired anyone over her. Never!”
“Ah.” He said smoothly, stretching backwards slightly. “The sin of adultery.”
“You say it as if such a thing is as common as the act of breathing.” I spat disdainfully, hurt that he took such a matter as this so rationally.
“As I said young one. No man is unjaded by the stain of sin.”
I shook my head, wondering how I would reveal the MORE forbidden part of my tale. The gender of my temptation.
“But it is worse than that, you must know.” My voice became lower with shame. “I wish that I could pretend it was only adultery, and never have to reveal that I went out on my wife with…….” I swallowed hard. “with another man.”
Still this preacher refused to betray even the slightest amount of surprise, a fact that strangely irritated me. It was as if he were taking it lightly. Shrugging it off.
“The bible calls such acts ‘working what is obscene’.” He said slowly, gathering his thoughts. “God created man and woman for a reason, though I can neither condemn nor condone the inclinations of a man’s heart. Tell me how this all came to be.”
“That’s the worst part Father.” I nearly sobbed. “I cannot explain or make excuses for what I did. I’ve never had these….. inclinations towards one of my own sex. I still don’t. But when he is around me, its like all thought process leaves me momentarily, leaving me weak and unprotected prey to my desires. I don’t love him. But I feel complete when he’s near me. I cannot explain it and that’s my frustration. I have NO reason for what has occurred, no excuse or conclusion. And the guilt eats away at me.”
“How many times have you subjected to this sin?”
“Too many times. Its like I have no control. I feel strong but my words are weak compared to my actions. I hate the aftermath and the repercussions, but I justify and make purpose for what I do at the time. I know I’m not gay Father. I KNOW this! But when he is around, I feel no hesitance in the knowledge that WHAT I AM DOING is a homosexual act. Its like brain activity comes to a halt, and my body does what it needs to feel a release.”
“You enjoy it.” He said simply.
“I love it.” I whispered, closing my eyes. “I want it more and more as it goes on. When he touches me, I want him all around me. Its phenomenal. Indescribable. Its an orgasmic experience from start to finish, one I’ve never had with my wife, nor expect in the coming future. I cant place it in words. Its like I become someone else, watching him as he watches me, doing things to each other that I’ve never even fantasized about. When he kisses me, it feels like I’m in love. When he forces his way inside of me, I feel like we’re making love. But that…..” I shook my head angrily. “That’s not love. Because afterwards, I hate him for it. I hate myself for it.”
“And yet, you want it even now, don’t you Goku?” The priest whispered, his voice making my skin tingle. I couldn’t place it, but I felt as though it wasn’t real. Like a recording device. Scratchy. False. But that wasn’t what put me on edge so much.
“Goku?” I asked softly, wondering if he heard. “H-How did you know my name father?”
“Because you gave it to me son, don’t you remember?” He answered sweetly, his voice raw.
“No.” I began to back away, becoming quickly unnerved. “No I’m certain I didn’t.”
He laughed, a piercing laugh that made me on edge, bracing myself for some unknown attack. It was almost as if his esophagus was malfunctioning, broken, or rotting. Like the words and sounds that came from his throat were morphed and ruined on the way out.
“You never answered my question Goku.” He leaned closer, becoming more and more visible. “You want it even now don’t you?”
I couldn’t answer, reaching slowly for the door knob.
“It’s alright son.” He whispered, his voice now entirely different. Satanic. He clicked his fingers on the wood of the confessional, a black ring glimmering on his pinky. “You see those alter boys out there?”
I glanced quickly through the screen, seeing the blur of their white robes and hearing their voices come at a deafening pitch.
“You see them?”
I nodded, turning back in horror to see his eyes, through the screen, entirely black. Black to his eyelashes and sagging lids covered in blood.
“Every man has his weakness.”
I burst out of the confessional, wood splintering all over the chapel floor, the pieces scattering across the marble as I scurried away on my hands and knees, my eyes still fixated on the priest who faded into the shadows. I sputtered out prayers that I’d been told as a child, prayers that Chi Chi told our son before he went to sleep. I threw my fingers over my chest to design the symbol of the cross, my heart racing as another priest ran up to me.
“Sir!” he cried, much younger than the other priest, his hair still brown, his eyes wide with confusion and an amount of fear. “Sir, are you alright!?”
“The priest!” I screamed, my voice absolutely horrific as it came out hysterical. I clutched my hand over my heart, my breathing so quick it was making me light headed. “Dear God the priest!”
The young man’s eyes searched mine, making me uneasy, my fear still cold in my veins as he hesitantly, knelt down beside me, never even checking the confessional.
“Sir, there was no priest in there.” He whispered. “You were alone the entire time.”
