His muscles are hard and tight. His hair, teeth and eyes are perfect.
When I think about how much I want to be with him, a small electric shock radiates through my crotch. Pain.
A hand touches my shoulder in a firm grip.
I feel its strength and warmth run through me.
I open my eyes and see my father standing above me.
I tell him that I don't want to be strapped to this bed anymore. I don't want to go to Dr. Mince's therapy sessions anymore. Why did he send me here? I know what I did was stupid, but why am I being tortured for it? I'm a gay man who's been proud for years.
Dr. Mince and his staff tell me it's the reason for my unhappiness. I screwed up, not because I'm gay, but because I felt all alone.
When I realized Steve was using me-- I shut down inside. I didn't realize what I had become or what I was. He stripped me of my dignity.
And now this place is taking what's left of it.
My father stands frozen for just a moment. Then he tells me that I'm all right.
I'm too weak from my treatments to get up.
My father slings me over his shoulder and we head out the door.
Everyone stands back as my dad carries me down the corridor.
We are almost at the exit when Dr. Mince blocks our way.
He tells my father to let him have me. He can cure me. That's what my dad wanted, isn't it? He wanted a normal boy, right?
The exit doors open and there is a picture of a naked man standing there.
The jolt of the electric shock between my legs snaps me back to reality.
After the session, they wheel me back to my room.
My body is still convulsing as I go down the hall.
"Daddy?" I say, groggily. "Help me."
The two orderlies bring me back to my room in silence.
My body twitches.
Maybe my dad is right. Maybe they all are.
Maybe I am a faggot. A sinner. A freak.
