THE SEX REBEL OF JESUSLAND, mini-chapter 75

75. A SESSION WITH JONATHAN

She had power over this young man. He was strapped into the Shock Seat. His name was Jonathan. He was in love with David, the patient she called K. They had discussed Jonathan’s sexual tastes. Jonathan liked doing that. He went on at length about how he thought he was looking for a father figure. His father had died young. He liked rough, tough, casual sex, but his greatest experiences had always been with older men. He preferred having an older man as a regular lover. They made him feel safer. It was nice to have someone to look up to. Until David, that was. That had changed everything. Because David was a father figure who could really fuck. And he was such a sweet man. He made Jonathan feel safe and horny. David was the love of his life. He hadn’t even looked for one, really, and here he had it. Other people talked about love, but he could hear how shallow they were, and how shallow was their love, because he knew what the real thing was. He would die to make David happy. David was the center of his life. Other people didn’t really live, because they did not know love, as deep and abiding as he did, because he had found the secret of life. To love someone else more than yourself. To love someone as much as you liked life itself. To exist for someone besides yourself. How many people on earth were granted this much happiness? It was like being touched by God. God had put David and Jonathan on earth together, like the Biblical David and Jonathan, to live for each other, and no amount of Aversion Therapy could change that.

Meanwhile he was going through a host of images, male body types, naked chests, penises, first in outline for the broad taste, and then down to the details. She clicked through her image bank, and when he said yes, she saved it under his name, until she had two hundred images to choose from out of the thousands they raced through.

Then she arranged them in her own order, the Click Order she called it, little waves of reconditioning, carefully “spotting” the images that Jonathan reacted to most intensely in between the other ones that turned him on. This is where her creativity came in – to put the images in an order that would lend them almost a narrative quality, with peaks following valleys of intensity, the whole narrative building towards an overall climax, like a musical composition with a steady drumbeat, which she would underline with shocks.

She started with a very mild shock, no more than a tingle, which she knew would not be effective, but would lull him into the process. Three shocks later, when she administered a fiercer shock, he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “No.”

She looked questioningly at him, but his eyes were fixed on the penis on the screen, a thick one that bent to the left, like a hook, and had a very big head. It was one of the most unusual specimens, because it also had a thick blood vein in it, which curled around the penis like a vine. She wondered what Jonathan was up to now, with this “no” of his. Before they started, he had engaged her in an argument she wanted no part of – what she thought of the latest video from Gay Rectal Revenge, who had said in a new video, where they sodomized Dr. Donald Wildmon, the president of the American Family Association, that they now had a list of anti-homosexual “hate criminals,” whom they had color-coded, from green (“hate criminals” who represented a low condition of anti-homosexual threat) through blue (“hate criminals” who represented the guarded condition of a general risk of anti-homosexual threat), yellow (elevated threat condition), orange (high risk of threat) and red (severe risk). Everyone on the red list was targeted for Rectal Revenge. GRR refused to reveal who was on their red-alert list, but warned that “you know who you are, and your rectum will be attacked.”

Eve gave Jonathan another charge, even stronger, to induce a negative reaction to the sight of the unusual penis.

“No,” he said again, and she clicked forward.

“Bring that one back,” Jonathan said.

This was not the way it usually went. The patient generally sat there passively, while she clicked away. No speaking out of turn. No telling her what to do. The patients just sat and underwent their therapy.

“That curved one,” he said, “I want to see it again.”

“Jonathan, for this to work, you must focus on taking in the images and receiving the shocks. You can’t intervene in the process. We can’t be switching back and forth regarding this, now can we?”

“I’m an active patient,” he said and smirked. “I take an active attitude to my healing process.”

He was going to be more difficult than she thought. They were off to a slow start.

“But if you want to focus on what David is going through, we have to simulate what he goes through, and he doesn’t ask me to go back to images. He says nothing. For you to know what he goes through, you have to say nothing -- just watch and let the therapy have its way with you.”

He sighed.

“Continue,” he said, as though he were directing the therapy and she was his secretary.

She continued. She administered a shock and he shook his head, but he didn’t say anything this time. The same with the next shock. And the next. She began to find a rhythm. They got to a picture of a beautiful boy bent over his erection, a very artistic photograph, interestingly lit, and she upped the shock.

“No,” he said again. He stood up. The cords hung from his genitals. He had an erection. “I know enough now. This process is very evil. Here I am looking at a beautiful photograph of a beautiful boy with a beautiful penis, and I get a shock? You should have beautiful music playing, the Moonlight Sonata perhaps. This boy is a prime example of God’s loving, creative spirit, and it is not right for me to be made averse to this beauty. It’s like I said before, you are trying to outlaw love. But it’s worse than I thought. You are trying to outlaw beauty, too. Beauty and love, the greatest drivers behind the human condition, and you are trying to heap dirt on it. It’s a distortion of the religious impulse. It’s the Inquisition all over. There is nothing loving or Christian about this. It has hate behind it -- hate of beauty and love and the freedom to love and to find beautiful what it is in our natures to find beautiful and to love.”

He ripped the cords from his penis and grimaced. “My penis tied up like this, my nipples hooked up to your infernal machines. What age are we in? You’re medieval, that’s what you are. What possible theory stands behind this? It’s a theory of disgust. You are turning your eyes away from life, away from what is best about it. You treat human beings, men, like rats in some diabolical experiment. You’re Nazis. I will have no part of this. I will save David from this. You will hear from me.”

He was dressing as he spoke. Fast. He never gave her a moment to reply. He had room only for his own words.
“You are closing your mind to the exploration of fresh avenues,” she interjected.

“My mind is open,” he said. “I speak the Bible solid truth. I can smell hate when it’s this obvious. You are trying to sully my very soul. You are trying to reach into my deepest strata and make me hate myself. Poor David, how long has he put with this? One day, when all this sickness is over, when the Bureau of Behavior Design and Management has gone the way of the typewriter, we shall return to a government by humans, for humans and of humans.”

“Jonathan, just listen for one moment.”

He could not be interrupted. He was like a Messiah enamored of his own homegrown religion.

“I’m too upset to reason with you, Eve” – the first time he called her by her name – “but I’ll be back. I will not allow this torture of David to be continued. You have crept into his mind, but I will cast you out.”

He slammed the door behind him. Then he opened it again, and closed it softly. She ran to the door, opened it, but he was not at the elevator. He had taken the stairs, and was gone.