The Preacher's Son Ch.05

"Why?"

"B-because! God commanded man and woman to be one flesh made whole! When Himawari and I f-fornicated, we broke his commandments and we- "he stopped, realizing what he was saying out loud. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, as he was unsure what to say next. Dare he vent everything else that happened out? No, he didn't need to say everything, just enough to reinforce his point. "And we turned away his gift of salvation for earthly pleasure." Marcus said nothing, just stared at Matthew as the boy broke down into tears.

"Himawari... so that was her name?" he finally said.

"...Yes" Matthew sobbed.

"Well I'll be honest with you; it doesn't sound like you really meant that. I dunno what went on with you and Himawari, but whatever it was it hurt you so hard you came running here to try and forget it." That one hit him like a punch to the soul. "Hey, I get it. You don't have to say anything you don't want to share. Your secret's safe with me Matthew. But you really shouldn't lie to yourself like that... just lie to them." He then turned around and started to head back to his bedroom. "It's late, you should try to sleep, they're gonna want us up bright and early."

"...What was HER name Marcus?" that was enough to stop him in his tracks. Though he didn't turn around before giving his answer.

"Darla."

*

As Matthew and Marcus stepped into the chapel, they immediately took notice of the unusual new setup. Everyone was dressed in their finest black clothes, the men in black coats and ties while the girls were in long black dresses. Some of them were even wearing black veils. Staff was running about all over the place, carrying various items from candlesticks to flowers.

"What's going on?" Matthew asked the nearest staff member; Catherine, the woman he'd met when he had arrived. She stopped in her tracks and looked up from her tablet to face Matthew.

"Didn't you hear?" she asked. Matthew shook his head, prompting a sigh from her. "Which room are you staying in?"

"214."

"Oh right, the one with the broken intercom." She said in remembrance. "Right, well... too late for you to go change. Grab a bowtie from the bowl and take a seat." She gestured to the aforementioned bowl, still filled with more than enough. clip on black bowties. Matthew was still confused, but obeyed her command anyways. As he picked one out, he heard a defeated sigh from Marcus as he too grabbed a bowtie.

"Wait, do you know what's going on?" Matthew asked as he fastened the tie to his collar.

"Yeah... it's a funeral." Marcus sighed, placing his own on. Matthew visibly recoiled in shock.

"A funeral?!" he exclaimed in alarm. "S-someone died here?!" Marcus looked back at him, his lips forming a flat line.

"Hopefully not." He replied. Matthew looked on at him in confusion. "But I guess we'll find out soon enough. Now come on." He continued, clapping Matthew on the back. "We better find some seats."

*

After a few minutes of the prep work, Cal stepped forward to the center of the chapel, where the alter was placed. Trailing behind him were several staff members, carrying a large coffin. It was an elaborate, well-crafted piece, with fine lacquered wood grain, a gilded cross in the center, and a wreathe of flowers encircling the whole thing. Once they had reached the alter, they placed it down on the floor and opened the lid. To Matthew's great surprise, there was nothing inside the coffin. He heard a sigh of relief from Marcus, followed by a sound of synthesized organ music playing in the background. Before he could really figure out what was going on, the sound of footsteps turned his attention back to the entrance. He immediately recognized the figure approaching the altar; Isabella from the first day. Unlike everyone else, she wasn't dressed in black, rather instead she was adorned in a loose fitting full pink dress. It was the sort of clothing Matthew saw women buried in whenever his father oversaw a burial. Just what was going on?

"Thank you all for coming." Cal said as soon as Isabella was taken onto the altar. "Today we are all gathered here to pay our respects to our dear friend and sister Isabella Mendoza. Who, through an act of self-torture, fell victim to Satan's temptations." Isabella said nothing, merely looked down at the ground in shame. "Her ungodly lifestyle has naturally led to this; an untimely death, brought upon herself by disease and drug overdose, and now her soul lies in hell for she turned her back on Jesus' free gift of salvation. Tragic isn't it? Cut down in the prime of her life by an act of selfishness and stupidity."

"Yes, how tragic." Everyone in the audience but Matthew said in well-practiced unison. He did his best to contain his shock, had this been done before?

"Is this what you want Isabella?" Cal said in a calmly menacing tone, gesturing to the open coffin. "Is this where you want to end up?"

"N-no." she squeaked, trembling in fear. Cal was clearly unfazed by her fright. Taking her in hand he led her over to the candles burning nearby.

"Put your finger over the flame." He ordered. Isabella stared up at him fearfully, as if she were asking what he was doing. "Put your finger over the flame." Cal repeated, in a stronger sterner tone. It was clear he didn't want to repeat himself a third time. Trembling, Isabella lifted her index finger and slowly inched it close to the flame. All of a sudden, she drew it back in pain. Cal nodded solemnly at this. "That hurt, didn't it?"

"Y-yes."

"Well that was just a candle." Cal elaborated. "What you will feel in the pits of hell will be a thousand times worse. Again, is this what you want for yourself 'Belle?"

"No!" she sobbed, once again bursting into tears. Again, Cal seemed uninterested in comforting her, if anything he seemed pleased that she was crying her eyes out.

"So why did you do it?" he asked sternly. "Why did you abuse yourself when you knew what it would do to your soul?"

"I-I..." she stammered through her sobs. "I was...I was tempted by my lust...I...I cared more about my immediate pleasure than I did about my immortal soul." Isabella swallowed hard, loud enough that even Matthew could hear it.

"Why?" Cal repeated. Why would he ask that again? Was he looking for a certain answer? Isabella paused for a long moment, swallowed again and began to speak again.

"Because...I have never been right with God. I was...never properly taught the word of God by my...by my parents." She whispered. "W-when I said I had, I never accepted Jesus into my heart...I just said that I had."

"Very good." Cal said with a nod. "You've finally admitted the truth 'Belle. Because you had never given your life to Christ, you could not feel his love pushing you in the right direction. You can lie to others about salvation, you can even lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to Jesus."

"W-what do I do?" she asked in desperation. More than ever before her voice carried the tone of a broken woman.

"You know how the sinner's prayer works by now." Responded Cal. "Even if you never meant the words, you know what to say. Do it." He ordered. Isabella paused for a moment, and got to her knees. It was then, as he watched the broken-down weeping girl beg God for forgiveness once more that Matthew knew he had to get out of here, and not by finishing this barbaric program.

*

"Um... excuse me?" Himawari asked, tapping the fit middle-aged man she assumed was the coach on the shoulder. He turned around, giving Himawari a good look at him. His hair hadn't yet gone grey, and still was a good chestnut color, neatly parted in a sort of retro-90's style. While not completely toned, his muscles still bulged noticeably, stretching out his tight rashguard shirt. A few lines of age adorned his face, but only served to grant him a visage of ruggedness. There was some stubble along his chin, just enough to give him a hint of facial hair. But by far the most unusual feature was his smoky grey eyes. Under other circumstances, Himawari would find him extremely handsome, but right now she had more important things to focus on.

"Yes?" He asked, looking her up and down. Himawari had chosen to dress more conservatively this time around. While normally she'd try to show a little more skin to help coerce the information she needed, something told her that wouldn't work here. As such she was currently wearing a long tartan skirt, going about halfway down her shins, and a white long-sleeved shirt, buttoned up all the way to the neck. Despite everything, her curves were very hard to hide, her breasts strained the shirt just enough for the fabric to cling to them, while her hips and butt jutted out so far, she may as well have been wearing a hoop skirt. Himawari noticed that his gaze stopped at her chest a little too long. Maybe this would be easier than she had thought.

"Yes, I'm looking for Matthew Hartford?" she asked, staring right into his eyes with a slightly pleading look on her face. Not quite enough to be obvious, but hopefully sufficient to draw out his desire to help her. "I believe he's on the track team?"

"The pastor's boy?" he queried. "Why do you wanna talk to him?"

"I-I just need to. Please, it's very important!" Himawari replied frantically. "Is he around?" The coach stared at her for a good long while, a sudden realization coming to him. Was this the girl he had been warned about?

"I'm sorry... "he finally answered, shaking his head side to side. "But I can't tell you that."

"Why not?!" she exclaimed.

"Look, miss..." he replied. "I'm gonna be straight with you, I've been told not to tell you where he is." Himawari's heart sank. Right, of course. It figures the pastor would have some sway in a private Christian school. "Now, could you please move along? I have to get things set up for practice." For a moment, Himawari felt ready to listen to him and just walk away. But somehow, she found the strength to swallow heard and clench her fists. No, she had come this far already, and she was not about to give up on finding him. Out of the corner of her vision she noticed a small twitch of movement. Moving her gaze towards the source, Himawari only now noticed how... stuffed his shorts were. Although they were relatively loose fitting, the bulge was still very pronounced and incredibly noticeable. He probably wasn't a breeder, though from the looks of it he would be pretty close to one... Once again it twitched a little bit, it seemed he wasn't quite as pious as he would like to be. Maybe she could work this to her advantage.

"Come on..." she pleaded in the sultriest tone she could manage. Himawari then leaned in closer to him, pressing her ample chest against his. Even through the bra and thick shirt, Himawari could feel his chiseled pectoral muscles rubbing against her mammaries. Under other circumstances she'd be more turned on, but right now this was more about business than pleasure. "It's really, REALLY important to me..." she whispered, looking up into his eyes. Her left hand travelled south to cup at his groin. Right now, he was only semi-hard, but that was changing very quickly. But even still, her hand couldn't cup the entire mass. He gasped a little, but didn't move away. Completely understandable, he was only human after all. "Can't we...work something out?" she asked, pursing her lips into a sensual pout.

"N-no!" he exclaimed in protest, shaking his head back and forth rapidly as if to shake these thoughts out of his mind completely. "I can't!" His dishonesty with both her and himself was pretty obvious.

"Pretty please?" she whined, standing upward on her toes to whisper in his ear. "It would really mean a lot to me... the pastor doesn't have to know..." Through the clothing, Himawari could tell that he was now rock hard.

"He-he's not here!" the coach finally said. "He's been sent away for conversion therapy!" Himawari froze solid for a good long moment. Conversion therapy?! Oh Goddess it was worse than she'd thought! It was common knowledge at this point that anti-Breeder religious organizations had repurposed gay conversion practices into treatment for Breeders. Her mother had frequently fought for the criminalization of such programs, but unfortunately not much headway had been made with that, even out here in California. What kind of parent would do such a thing to their son over something he couldn't control? No, she knew the answer to that question all too well; Matthew's father would. She wanted to collapse to her knees, to burst into tears over this. But she had to retain her composure, even if it was just for a little while longer.

"I see... thank you very much!" she leaned upward and kissed the man on the cheek. With that, she let go of his groin and spun around to walk away.

"W-wait... is that it?" he stammered. Himawari stopped and turned her head around, and flashed him a coy smile.

"Well yes... I'm a good Christian girl after all!" she said before turning back and walking away, leaving the coach bewildered and confused. It was only after she had made it back to her car that she was able to take off the mask and break down and cry. Goddess, what had she done?

*

Matthew strolled through the sand and rocks. Though it was night time the moon was completely full, illuminating everything quite well. The desert extended as far as they eye could see, with no sign of a road anywhere. How did he get out here? Where was the facility? He only had a few moments to ponder this question before something caught his attention. A lone figure, walking slowly through the desert sands. Somehow, Matthew had ended up positioned directly behind them. With no other options he quickly took off after them.

"Hey! Excuse me!" he said, somehow unable to raise his voice past an exclamation. Once he had closed a bit of distance, he was able to get a bit of a better look at the figure. A green cloak hung on their body, trimmed with a gilded knot pattern. The build of the person indicated that she was a woman; a fair bit shorter than Matthew himself, very wide flared hips that caused her to walk with more of a sashay than a normal gait, and a tremendously large backside (one that at a glance easily dwarfed Himawari's) that wobbled hypnotically with every step. Even from behind Matthew could see the outline of her breasts, equally huge in proportion. "Hey!" he repeated.

"There is no need for that." She replied, conforming what he had suspected. "I can hear you just fine." Her voice was warm and soothing. Alto in pitch, it was the sort of voice one would describe as belonging to a "woman" rather than a "girl", marked by years of experience yet still feminine in tone. Something about it though seemed "maternal" for lack of a better term. Comforting and reassuring, the way his own mother would speak to him when she wanted to relieve his worry.

"Oh... I'm sorry." He replied sheepishly. "I was just...I'm lost, I don't know where we are."

"Where are you trying to go?" she asked.

"I'm..." he paused. Where WAS he going? Back to the facility? Did he really want to go back there? No... he supposed not. Home perhaps? But he wouldn't be welcome there if he did. No one he knew would take him in, and he had no money to stay anywhere else. "I don't know." He muttered. Somehow, he knew she heard him.

"Then why does it matter where you are now?" she asked.

"Well, I mean..." he answered, following behind her. "I need to find a bed, some food, other people! I can't stay out here, I'll die!"

"So, then you wish to go find civilization?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess I do." He replied.

"Well, there is none around here." She said flatly. "But if you follow me, perhaps you will find what you are looking for."

"And...how do I know I can trust you?" Matthew asked.

"You don't." she responded. An honest answer? Those were quickly proving to be a rare commodity in his life. "But it is up to you." Matthew sighed softly, she was right, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he didn't have any better options right now. Without a second thought, he strolled along behind her. Somehow, he never seemed to get any closer to her.

" 'Tis incredible, is it not?" the woman asked, still walking through the sands without bothering to look at Matthew.

"What is?"

"The desert, one of the least hospitable environments on this little blue planet." She continued. The tone of her voice was extremely hard to identify. Somehow it seemed to be full of melancholy, pride and wonder all at once. "Extreme temperatures, very little plant-life and hardly a drop of water to be seen. And yet... life still finds a way to thrive." She said with a sigh, once again Matthew couldn't figure out the tone. As if to punctuate her point, he noticed that her path brought her past some patches of desert grasses. "That is the beauty of life, no matter the odds it still manages to make itself work. Is it any wonder the desert has always been the breeding ground of prophets? "That one caused Matthew to think about it for a minute.

"I...guess you're right." He replied. "Moses, Elijah, Jesus..."

"Muhammad?" she said in a slightly amused tone, the first time he had ever

"Well... I suppose." Matthew admitted. "I mean, I don't really believe he was a real prophet. But I guess he counts."

"Well what is a real prophet?" she asked, stopping in her tracks. For whatever reason, Matthew stopped as well, despite the fact that he wanted to see her face.

"My dad always said a real prophet is nothing more than a mouthpiece for God. So, he must speak the true word and set humans back on the narrow path to God."

"And what are those?" she queried again. "What is the true word, and what is the narrow path?"

"Well..." Matthew said in ponderance. "The true word I guess would be the good news of salvation, the sacrifice for our sins paid by Jesus' precious blood. As for the narrow path? Well, it's the difficult route we Christians must take when we give our lives to Christ; 'for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat'" he said in a well-conditioned spiel. It was one of the few passages he could remember by heart, it certainly helped that it came from the book of his namesake. For a good long while, the woman just stood there in silence.

"Who remember God while standing or sitting or lying on their sides and give thought to the creation of the heavens and the earth, saying; "Our Lord, you did not create this aimlessly; exalted are You above such a thing; then protect us from the punishment of the Fire. "she said flawlessly. Matthew paused and contemplated the passage.

"That's a good one I guess... which book and passage was that from again?" he queried.

"None. At least, not from the Bible." She answered flatly. It took a minute for Matthew to realize what she meant by that, his face turning into an expression of shock when it finally dawned on him. "So what is the word of God then?" she repeated.

"I...I don't know." Matthew admitted.

"Good." She said, resuming her walk. Once again, Matthew found himself following behind her.

"Who...who are you anyways?" he asked. Though she did not stop walking, she slowly started to turn her head around to face him. All Matthew managed to see was a brief flash of red before the ring of his alarm woke him up, bringing him back to the familiar hell of the rehabilitation center.