The Journey of Love, by Scotty
****Finding Love: A Journey
****By: **Scotty
**(© 2007 by the author)
_Disclaimer: This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.
The characters in this story do not always practice safe sex. Remember this is fiction. You should always use a condom for the your protection and especially for the protection of the one you love. The author recommends only safe sex. Be wise and follow safe sex practices.
Several songs are quoted in this story. The copyrights to these are held by the artists or their publishers and not by the author. They are quoted as a tribute to the artist and the piece.
All persons in this story are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental._
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_[scotty@tickiestories.us](mailto:scotty@tickiestories.us?subject=[N] Finding Love: A Journey Chapter 21)
_“Not to worry, Chris, I will have all kinds of help. Your Dad has already been on the phone make arrangements, so please don’t worry about that?”
“What about bills to be paid, son?” asked Mr. Li.
“The rents paid through June of next year. Peter takes care of all the other stuff. I guess we’ll have to wait until we can talk with him. Will that be okay?”
“That’s fine. Any suggestions of who you might think could close up the apartment and stuff?”
Chris thought for a moment, then brightened and told the Li’s,
“How about Brad and Jacob?”_
Chapter 21
**Roger Gimple sat at his desk after Beth Mason had left his office. He lighted his daily cigar, put his feet on the desk, leaned back, and tried to discern what the hell was going on in the Mason family. Certainly Ms. Mason was an intelligent, well spoken woman. She was a successful professional, a teacher his child had loved. Yet at times during the interview, he had wondered about her desire to foil her husband.
Gimple began to understand why she might want to do that. After all, her husband, no matter if he were a successful attorney, obviously had some problems with the sexual preferences of his two sons. Gimple wondered if he himself might also react badly if a son of his were gay. He hadn’t really thought that much about it, but he could feel tension in his body when he thought of the possibility. But even so, Gimple was well aware of the horror of those institutions, now mostly debunked, whose main purpose was to change young people from one religious persuasion to another.
Now he was about to confront an institution whose single purpose was to change young homosexual boys into heterosexual men. He snickered. ‘How stupid,’ he thought. Yet he understood how these institutions thrived in today’s world where fundamentalist believers were often in confrontation with liberal thinkers. But he also knew that science had clearly demonstrated that homosexuality was not a disease nor a mental affliction but an inborn characteristic, like blue eyes or heterosexuality. But none of that mattered. His job was to discover what was happening at the Regency Readjustment Colony. And exactly who was the Reverend Colechester and what credentials did he hold that made him qualified to run the colony?
He decided that the first thing he would do was to call a friend who worked at a church group whose purpose was to keep tabs on clergy of all denominations, even priests and rabbis. When he reached the group, he asked for Elaine Thompson.
“Hello, this is Elaine Thompson.”
“Hi Elaine, Roger Gimple here. How ya doin’?”
“I’m fine, Rog. What can I do for you?”
“It’s like this, Elaine. I wondered if you could find anything about a man by the name of Colechester? He’s supposedly a Reverend and runs a place called...hold on a minute... yeah, here it is, the Regency Readjustment Colony. Ever heard of him?”
“Ever heard of him? He’s a charlatan! Rog, he has no divinity degrees, has never been called to a church, and has no qualifications to do what he’s doing.”
“Holy molly, Elaine, how does he stay in business?”
“That’s easy, Rog. He provides a service for individuals who are bigots or uninformed. His customers come from churches run by third-rate ministers of questionable background who push their bigoted point of view on the hapless parishioners who are ignorant or closeted bigots,” said Elaine.
“For God’s sake, isn’t what he does illegal?”
“Not unless and until he’s caught in some activity that isn’t legal. He’s been accused of assisting in kidnaping, but it’s never been proved. He charges exorbitant fees and keeps his charges in prison-like cells. They have little nourishing food, and reports say his clients are tortured, sometimes by having their genitals zapped with electric shocks if they respond to pictures showing sex between men. He doesn’t accept girls, by the way.”
“Elaine, that’s terrible!”
“That’s not all,” continued Elaine, “some young men, who have relapsed, tell horror stories about being used by staff members who rape them and force them into sexual activity with other members of the staff and often with other patients. Many who leave there in the so called “cured” state also discover later that they are carriers of STD’s, and a number have become AIDS patients. The trouble with all this, Rog, is that no one has proved any of it. Colechester covers his ass well, if you’ll excuse the vulgarism.”
Gimple sighed deeply, and asked,
“So the patients who are sent there usually go under duress because of the influence of ministers in churches everywhere.”
“True, but remember, it isn’t every church or every minister. Rather it’s ministers who have sexual hang ups and who are probably closeted gays. Can’t prove that, of course, but it would fit the pattern. Does this help?”
“Yeah, it sure does. By the way, where the hell is this place, this Regency Readjustment Colony located?”
“Not in Florida , that’s for sure. It’s located about fifteen miles north of Quitman, Georgia , on Route 13. It’s in a guarded and fenced private estate,” said Elaine.
“I never heard of Quitman,: said Gimple.
“That’s exactly the idea, Rog, most people have never heard of it. It’s not the people in Quitman who run this thing, it’s folks from other places who have purchased land and buildings and made it into this place. Colechester is a savvy guy who has taken so many precautions that you may find it impossible to crack your case,” said Elaine.
“Maybe, but I tell you one thing, when my client hears all this, she and I will be out looking for her husband and her youngest son who apparently is being sent to this damn place. How could an intelligent father do this?”
“Easy, he’s an ignorant bigot!” snickered Elaine.
“Man, do I want to stop this,”
“Good for you, Rog. Let me know what happens.”
“Sure will, Elaine. Take care. Bye.”
Gimple started drumming on his desk with a pencil. Glancing through the notes he had taken, his anger grew as he crushed out his burning but yet unsmoked cigar. He had to get in touch with Ms. Mason immediately. It was already near the time when the high school students were dismissed.
Hopefully she was with her son or knew where he was!**
*****
**Travis Mason had been angry when he finally reached the Regency Readjustment Colony by telephone. He could not speak with Colechester as he was in the hospital having had a heart attack. The prognosis was not good. The young man he spoke with, Wilfred Comstock, assured him that the school, as he called it, would still function.
Mason informed him of the background for the admission of Bradley. Comstock told him that the problem as outlined to him by Colechester still existed. There simply wasn’t a space for Bradley. Travis would have none of it.
He threatened to sue Comstock and the Colony and to reveal its purpose and methods as Colechester had reviewed them. Comstock’s voice had cracked and there was cold fear in it. Mason rejoiced in that fact.
Finally Comstock agreed that they would somehow make room for Bradley. They would expect him no later than one in the afternoon on the following day. Travis was also instructed to bring the first payment in a bank check.
“Anything else Bradley should bring?” asked Travis.
“No, Mr. Mason, everything will be furnished for your son: uniforms, food, toiletries, everything. He should not bring his cell phone, computer, ipod, books, paper, pens, pencils, etc. Any medications he takes must be provided by the family. He will not be able to see you or any other member of the family until he has been with us for a minimum of six weeks. If he becomes unruly or difficult to control, he will be given medications to help quiet him.”
“Colechester didn’t mention that to me. I don’t like the idea of Brad being drugged,” Mason said.
“Please don’t think of it as drugging. It’s just a medication that helps relax the patient so that he can be controlled. It will not cause any long-term effects. Be assured we would not do anything to harm your son. We just want to help him understand his mistake in choosing to be homosexual. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” said Comstock.
“Yes, that’s my wish. But if you guys hurt Brad, I’ll see that you are shut down. Do you understand?” Mason blurted out.
“I assure you that we have never been sued by any of our clients. We run a wholesome legal school here. Rest assured we will take good care of Bradley. When you arrive tomorrow, punch in this code at the gate: 399108. That will open the gate; after you pass the electric eye, the gate will automatically close. Two attendants will meet you at the car. They will assist Bradley into the building. You must say goodbye in the car as you cannot enter the school until the end of the first six weeks. Is that clear?”
“Yes, I understand.”