*This story has been running through my head and fantasies for a while now and I finally decided to write it. I hope to make this an ongoing series. I would welcome any suggestions for future chapters in the comment section. This story contains a great deal of religious play and mocking of the systems of organized religion. If you are offended by either of these, don't read this story. All characters are above the age of 18 years old.*
At 18 I was hoping to enjoy the sexual freedom of being a legal adult. But being a gay twink to two fundamentalist Christian parents seemed to argue against that. My parents must have suspected my sexuality for some time, but this past week they had actually confronted me with proof of my "perverse lifestyle." They had somehow gotten copies of pictures of me from the Halloween party I attended the year before, dressed as a sexy male stripper. I had always been small for my age and had no muscles to speak of. I could easily pass for a younger age or as my father was so happy to describe my physique as that of a 12-year-old girl. I had found a stripper costume that showed off my bubble butt and baby-smooth body.
Granted I wasn't the only guy dressed like this or the only person who dressed in a sexy costume, but my parents decided that this was all the proof they needed. At least they didn't have any pictures or videos of the high school quarterback taking out his frustrations on my ass after his girlfriend dumped him at that same party. Or the numerous other rendezvous and hookups I had enjoyed since I became sexually active. But since I refused to deny my sexuality, my parents had threatened to disown me and kick me out of the house if I didn't attend a cliche "pray the gay away" summer boarding school in California.
I held back my opinions about going to California to "cure" myself of my homosexuality. So I had been packed up, put on a plane, and sent three states away to some church-sponsored summer school designed to turn happy gay boys into straight-acting young men who hated their very existence. Yeah, you gotta love the church. I had been picked up at the airport by a taxi and driven to my new home away from home for the next 2 1/2 months. What also concerned me was the possibility of spending my senior year of high school here if my parents decided I needed more time there.
The school looked like a normal boarding school and was of course miles away from anything else. I guess they wanted to make escape as difficult as possible. The welcoming was remarkably normal and relaxed. Father Bobby had simply welcomed me in with a casual smile and shown me to my dorm room. I was not surprised to see the priest was wearing all-black dress clothes with a priest's collar. I did notice as he guided me to my dorm room that he kept his hand on the small of my back and would occasionally rub his thumb up and down my spine as he spoke. Once in my dorm room, I was introduced to my roommate Timothy. Father Bobby left me there and asked Timothy to help get me settled in, give me a tour, and answer any questions I might have.
As I was finishing unpacking, I couldn't help but be surprised and curious as to Timothy's happy-go-lucky attitude and outlook. I thought this place would be some kind of soul-sucking, happiness-draining, fundamentalist Christian reform school. Tim, as he asked to be called, was busy explaining all the fun and easy living that I could enjoy here. Finally, I had to stop him and ask how he could be so happy about being exiled to a place like this. Timothy actually grinned wider and dropped the biggest bomb on me I had ever received, "Oh, you don't have to worry about the brochures and website bullshit. This isn't some pray-the-gay-away reform school. This is more like a private fuck school for young gay men."
As I sat stunned into silence, Tim went on to explain that this school was designed by a gay man who had experienced a real pray-the-gay-away church camp when he was young. Not wanting to have other young gay men suffer through that, he had created a school that appeared to be as advertised but was really a gay utopia. He smirked at me as he asked, "Didn't Father Bobby seem a little young, relaxed, and attractive to be some gay-hating priest?"
I admitted that I hadn't really considered that at the time. Tim laughed as he explained that all of the staff were gay men and the church facade was basically a joke and fetish at the same time. He grinned as he said, "Just wait until your first confession."
I was shocked and a little dubious as I asked more questions. Tim explained that all of the students here were sent here just like I was. All of them are gay as well. The staff were specifically selected and usually had to pay the school to be on staff. The staff were all physically fit gay men of varying ages, but usually 30-50 years old and very sexually active. Tim grinned wider when he said that most of the staff have to be rotated out once or twice a week so they could rest after all of their strenuous activities. Tim looked me up and down and smiled as he guessed that I was a bottom. I nodded a little uncomfortably, but Tim put me at ease when he explained that almost all the students here were bottoms or bottom-leaning versatile. He nudged me and smirked as he explained that was the reason that all of the priests had to be in good shape and prepared to fuck multiple teenage boys every day. I laughed nervously and tried not to freak out too much, but my head was still spinning at everything Tim had said so far.
When I asked if any of the staff were actually clergy or affiliated in any way with a church, Tim had looked at me dubiously as he said that most of if not all of the staff and students had bad experiences with Christian fundamentalists and/or disapproving families. He said that the whole Christian boarding school for young gay men was a cover to fool outsiders, a jab at the organized anti-gay church system, and a kinky fetish all in one. He scoffed and said that since "pray-the-gay-away" was literally printed on the school brochures and on the website, no one felt any shame or guilt at mocking the whole system by turning it into one big sexual fetish.
He went on to explain that the school really did offer an education but also was a sanctuary to keep us safely away from our disappointed parents. The school even sent out fake "reformation updates" to parents to prove that we students were each receiving the proper instruction and being steered away from the sin of gayness. Tim explained that all of the students were free to engage in sexual or romantic activities with other students or the staff. The only rule about sex was that it was consensual, anyone could say "no." Since strict medical screening was a requirement of any boarding school, diseases weren't an issue.
Finally giving me the basic rundown he stood up and offered me a tour. I followed him out and he began showing me around. He showed me the library, rec room, classes, gym, locker rooms, and outside recreation areas. Everything seemed standard and wouldn't raise any eyebrows. But then Tim smirked as he showed me the dining hall, which also looked like a standard boarding school dining hall with rows of long dining tables for students and another row at the far end of the hall for the staff. Tim pointed under the tables and said that I could always find students on their hands and knees showing staff members their appreciation.
He then showed me to the sauna and steam rooms, and I finally got a glimpse of the gay utopia Tim had described. In the steam room, I found two young men in a 69 position on a tiled up-raised bench, as several other students sat close by naked, relaxing, and talking like it was the most natural thing in the world. In the sauna, I saw two older men spit-roasting a student. The student looked like he was in heaven and I bet he was. The three of them were all covered in sweat and the staff members were giving the student a fucking that porn stars would applaud.
From here, Tim showed me the confession booths. These were larger than usual, but overall looked like standard confession booths. Each booth was equipped with a red light and green light to announce if the priest and/or confessor side of the booths were empty. Tim smiled as he said that I would understand if I ever chose to go to confession. I nodded as he led me from the room. He showed me the "nurse's office" and said that it was also specially designed to accommodate medical scenes if I had any particular medical fetish.
