1 comments/ 10570 views/ 10 favorites Honoring My Father's Last Words By: fgmntfmgnshn "Samuel, find a good Christian woman and make her your own." Those were my father's last words as his already chilled hands were cupping my own. His eyes had locked onto mine and his seriousness echoed through his stare as he spoke them. I couldn't look away. The only action I was capable of was the tightening of my grip upon his hand. Just as quickly, he made an unnatural guttural noise as he slumped back into the hospital bed, taking his final breath. My mother began crying. She collapsed forward, one hand clutching at his chest and the other wrapped around his body as she draped herself to his lying form. I just stared at the man I knew I would never see again. I was six. Being from a religious family, I was determined to follow in my father's footsteps. He had lived three lives, and all were fulfilling. First, a computer programmer by trade, he was Green Earth's best. As the name suggests, Green Earth was a company out to better the world through finding ways to stabilize the environments biggest problems. My father created analytic codes to decipher all the environments problems and then used that code to benefit the world. Secondly, he was a family man. His family, my mother and I, always came first. He was strict, firm, and fair in his raising of me. He was also one for compassion and sympathy. There wasn't ever a man I have ever met that could hold a candle to him. My father was who I wanted to emulate most in life. In his third life, the one that gave me the most solace with his passing, my father was a devout religious man. He was a deacon with our church, and always seemed to offer a helping hand or the soundest of wisdom to fellow parishioners. Upon his death, I knew he was taken care of when concerning the afterlife. Heaven awaited him. This also meant I knew my father will always be watching me from up on high, judging my actions, firm and fair, as he always had done. I wanted - no needed to make him proud. And I was resolute. His final words resonated within me... "Find a good Christian woman and make her your own." At first, my efforts to accomplish his mission for me were primitive. Being such a young age, I started with Legos. It took me nearly a year. I used yellow blocks to form the face, hands, and feet. Black ones were used to form facial features and for a long skirt. Finally, red blocks for a long sleeved blouse. I stared at my creation, my two and a half foot tall good Christian woman, and realized she was bald. I looked around and sighed at the options I had left for hair color. Another three months later, and she had a head of flowing green hair. My mother had found humor in what I was doing. I had shared openly with her what my father told me and what I was trying to accomplish. She, in turn, shared openly to everyone. Some thought it was cute; others used me as a punch line. It was then I had decided my mother didn't have the same morals as my father. Her loose tongue afforded her only son to be ridiculed. She did not need to know all my actions. Every day I stared at my good Christian woman, and felt something wasn't right. It took me quite some time to figure out that my original plan of building her with Legos was fundamentally flawed. I made a good Christian woman as my father instructed, but the woman I made couldn't do anything. She just stood in the corner with that awkward smile I had given her. And I was resolute. Research was the key. My father had started teaching me his livelihood at a young age and I had been fascinated with computers ever since. "We all need to be proficient in our careers, son, so we can build a happy life for not only yourself, but your family. We need to make God proud of us in all we do," he would say. So, I had begun writing code from as early as I remember. Trivial stuff really, like designing a car and having it drive off the screen or trying to help my father in making a code to determine the best ways to fight against the catastrophic effects of erosion. His worked, mine didn't. All of his mentoring set me on my way to follow in his footsteps. Writing computer code was great but that didn't help with my current problem. I wasn't sure what I was looking for but knew if I searched long enough; the internet would give me my answer. Several years passed before I found my solution: erector sets. With erector sets, I could make my good Christian woman and with the robotics involved, it would actually be able to have motor functions. I took my time so my mother wouldn't get suspicious. I collected sets as birthday and Christmas gifts and spent every dollar I had, well, every dollar I hadn't donated to the church anyway, and the ending result was enough erector sets to fill my closet. Careful planning was the next step. I was meticulous and detailed every step of the way. I thought about how the human body moved. Legs, arms, fingers, even how the head rotated was calculated in my construction. I also extended the height. Two and a half feet was great when I was six, but I had grown since then and therefore so must my good Christian woman. The final result was a four foot tall mechanical being with a dirty blonde wig. It also took five remote controls to govern her. I was proud of myself, though I told no one. My mother, my friends in my youth group at church, my priest; all were kept in the dark. Everyone just assumed I was building a robot to clean my room. It had taken six years since my father's death but I had finally accomplished his goal for me. I had made my good Christian woman. It took only a year, however, before I was forced to acknowledge that there was a multitude of errors in my thinking. Despite having functions, an erector set woman was not the answer. There were too many limitations in its abilities. And I was resolute. Puberty hit me with a vengeance. It seemed as if it was a test from God just to go to the bathroom in the morning. Worse was the fact that I was first amongst my friends to incur this rite of passage. I had mentioned to my group that I thought a girl in my class, Jessica Akers, was kind of cute and it brought the house down with all the laughter that ensued. They even threatened to tell our assistant youth group advisor, Megan Reed, who was only five years older than us, about my outburst. I played it off like I was joking but it was just another reason why I held all my plans close to the vest. But staring at Jessica got my mind thinking about my good Christian woman. According to Genesis 1:28 - And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth. How in the heck am I supposed to multiply and replenish the earth with a machine? I was confused. And when I was confused, I dwelled upon my father. His last words came flooding back to me, "Samuel, find a good Christian woman and make her your own." It hit me like lightening. I sat on my bed shaking my head, "I'm an idiot." I was completely focused on the "making her my own" and didn't even consider the word "find" in that sentence. I began cackling like a mad man at my epiphany. I was going about this all wrong. I wasn't supposed to make a girl, or build one as I took it; no, I was supposed to find a girl, a Christian one, and then make her mine. But how do you make a woman yours? Judges 14:3 - Then his father and his mother said unto him, Is there never a woman among the daughters of thy brethren, or among all my people, that thou goest to take a wife of the uncircumcised Philistines? And Samson said unto his father, Get her for me; for she pleaseth me well. Samson asked his father to get him a woman... So to make a woman your own, you ask your father? My eyes furrowed in thought. My head steadily rose as I cast my sight upward looking for guidance. I swear I could see my father smiling at me. I shook my head, still confused before I took in the sight of my computer and I knew. Besides, God help me if I disappointed my father. I was sitting in front of my computer attempting to decipher my problem. It wasn't easy. There just weren't a lot of reputable websites that held the answers I required. Hypnotism was a possibility but everything I read implied the subject would not do something they wouldn't normally do. Subliminal messages sounded interesting, but could be misinterpreted, and, of course, there aren't a whole lot of refutable studies on the subject. Not to mention I had no idea where to find a good Christian woman to my liking... I mean Jessica Akers didn't even belong to a church so it couldn't be her. And as the Bible says, 2 Peter 3:9 The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance. So patience is a virtue. And I was resolute. As with all my endeavors into completing my father's last request of me, this took time. Six years worth of time. And life tended to carry on regardless of what I did with my spare time. In school, my grades were near the top of the class. I had been accepted to the University of Maryland on full scholarship for computer programming, though I'm actually going to nearby Holy Trinity Catholic College. While the majority of the kids I grew up with in church dropped out, moved away, or are just too lazy to go anymore, I have grown. I am now the assistant youth group director to Megan Reed, as she replaced the withering Mrs. Garrett. It is always a pleasure to work under someone so compassionate. At twenty-three, she has developed into a fine young woman. She seemed to have combined a positive attitude with faith which allows her to teach a younger generation the word of God all the while working full time during the week as a dental hygienist. As for my home life, I tended to stay in my room spending my time in perfecting all my knowledge on making a woman my own. I was fluent in the subjects of hypnotism, subliminal messages, and was even aware of how Stockholm Syndrome can affect one's mind. I honestly feel I was becoming an expert in the field of brain manipulation. My mother had become less religious with age. She altogether stopped going to church and now took to staying out late every night. Through the years, we had gotten into countless arguments regarding me spending all my time in my room and not around her. I assumed it was because she wanted a close relationship with someone, to be the family she felt she lost, but I was busy. She eventually stopped asking - telling - demanding my presence and found other ways to occupy her time. I know in her heart she knows God and therefore I wasn't concerned. Now all that was left was to find a good Christian woman. And I was resolute. It was two thirty in the morning. The front door closing is what aroused me from sleep, but the drunken groan followed by a hearty laugh is what got me out of bed and downstairs. It took me all of two seconds to go from sleepy to irate. My mother was on her back, her top pulled down exposing her breasts, with a scruffy, I'm going to kill all the villagers with an axe, barbarian between her legs. I stormed into view, "What are you doing Mother?" The brusque man paused at my intervention. My mother barely looked my way. "Keep going... guy" "You don't even know his name? Is this what I have as a mother now? What would God say? What about father?" My mother huffed in irritation or moaned in pleasure and then stared at me, "Listen kid, I'm not your mother. You made that very clear by not wanting anything to do with me. And God doesn't exist. That fucker took everything from me when he let your father die. Now I could be the evil mother, blah, blah, blah or I could... Oh yes, right there, ugh." "But, this is wrong." "Get lost kid," the brute then shoved me and I staggered back. "But..." "Samuel, either go to bed, get me a beer, or shut up and learn something." I was appalled... flabbergasted... I don't even know. I felt tears begin to cascade down my cheek at what I was witnessing. My mother was a harlot. A woman misguided, led astray by the devil... living under the same roof as someone as virtuous as me. I didn't cry when my father died. It seemed pointless because I knew he was going to heaven, to have everlasting life, but I cried over this. I cried at seeing my father's wife, my mother, turned into a whore. I ran. I ran outside in only my t-shirt, boxers, and slippers. I was unsure of what to do. I didn't want to live under the same roof as a jezebel. What if she corrupted me? But where could I go? My school friends weren't righteous. My friends from church had all gone separate paths. Without any destination, I went to the only place I'd find solace. I arrived at church knowing no one would be there. It wasn't even unlocked. I knew it wasn't going to be, but I had hoped. Instead, I sat on a cement parking block and stared at the Holy place. My life felt like it was crumbling all around me. My head fell to my hands. What had happened? If only Father Eckhart were here to offer advice? Or Megan for that matter? Wait, she only lives a couple blocks away... Could I? It took me all of three seconds to decide. As I stood, I looked to the Jesus hanging from the cross on the roof. "Thank you." * I was walking to the porch of the small one bedroom red brick home. It was quaint and perfectly functional for the person who lived here. And as God states in Hebrews 13:5 - Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." It was obvious Megan Reed made a life for herself with God in her heart. I stood in front of a brown metal screen door which was made to look like it was wood; as if the human race isn't smart enough to realize the difference. My finger hovered over the doorbell. Though I knew my decision, I was still apprehensive about waking up my mentor. Megan was a sight to behold... even at three in the morning. Her curly brown locks, though disheveled, framed her face and the natural glow from her skin seemed to radiate a soft affection. She had on plaid flannel pajamas that offered only hints to her nice figure. Her sleepy countenance, however, vanished at just the sight of me. "Sam? What brings you here? Is everything all right?" "My mom... My mom is a..." I somehow couldn't finish that sentence. Megan wrapped her arm around my shoulder and ushered me to her living room. The room was simple. The furniture was all matching beige which went well with the slightly darker carpeting. In the corner sat an entertainment stand with a small flat screen television and a radio on it. The walls were similarly modest with only a clock, a cross, and a few pictures of Megan with friends and family at different functions. Megan sat down on the couch and patted the space next to her. "Do you need a glass of water?" I shook my head and sat down next to her. Despite my inability to speak at her door, as soon as I felt cushion underneath me I started blubbering everything about my harlot mother to the woman. "Sam, I am so sorry," Megan wrapped her arm around my shoulder, her eyes full of sympathy. She tightened her grip for a brief moment before she let me go. "Let us pray for her." She closed her eyes, cupped her hands in front of her, and lowered her head, "Heavenly Father..." I stared vacantly at Megan. It felt as if my father was attempting to comfort me after one of my failed programs. I shook my head before I also closed my eyes, bowed my head, and clasped my hands together in reverence to God. I must admit, I didn't hear the words of her prayer. I didn't even hear her voice. All that I was, felt. I felt comfort. I felt solace. I felt my father. I felt his wishes for me. I felt his want for me to keep on the path he had beset upon me so many years ago. I felt his need for me to stay the course regardless of outside unrighteous influences. "Amen." I opened my eyes and my eyebrows furrowed as I gazed at Megan while I embraced my feelings. It was as if my father was guiding me. I was Samson and Megan was my answer. Megan is what I had been searching for since I was six. She is a good Christian woman. Now to just make her my own... At my epiphany, my consciousness slowly crept back with reality. "Sam?" Megan had this concerned look as it obviously appeared that I was in La-La land. I shook my head as I came out of my trance. "Thank you, Megan." I took a deep breath with a faint smile pursing my lips, "I feel a little better." Actually, I felt much better. I found my good Christian woman... and I was determined to not let my unrighteous mother cloud my duty to make her my own. And I was resolute. "Good." Megan smiled as she double patted my knee before standing. "Let me get you a blanket. I can't in good Faith have you walking back home at this hour." She walked to the back of the house and quickly returned with a pillow and a navy blue with white stripes comforter in her clutches. "Here you go, Sam." She set the linens on the coffee table. "Try to get some sleep. The bathroom is down the hall on the left and if you need anything from me, my room is right across from it." "Um, Megan?" "Yes?" "Do you mind if I stay here a couple days? Just until I figure out how to approach my mother and her wanton ways?" I asked already knowing her answer. She's too compassionate to say no. A fine quality in a wife. "I'm not going to be home... I do have to go to work in the morning." "That's all right. I have to go to school." Megan gave me one of her faint smiles, "Of course you can Sam. Whatever you need, I'm here to help." Her head nodded slightly as she began to walk away again. I knew she'd say yes. "Thanks again, Megan." I grabbed the offered linens and went to fixing my makeshift bed on the couch. "Good night." "Good night, Sam." Sleep eluded me. I mean how could I sleep when there was a plan to be made? My father's last desire for me was right down the hall. As in all walks of life, I knew there were going to be obstacles; for instance, Megan was five years older and has been my mentor for the past few years. But once again I found guidance in the Bible. James 1:2-4 - Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. And I was resolute. When morning came, I got up early. My mind was on overload and I had a lot to do. I did my best to look at Megan the same as I always had as I thanked her for her hospitality. I doubt I was able. She gave me a spare key and told me to call her if I needed anything. What was even better was that right before I left, she gave me a hug. I didn't want to let go, and if I thought she would fall for me right then and there, I wouldn't have. But alas, I had to make like I was leaving for school. I walked into my house and to a sight no child should ever see: my mother passed out on the couch, her shirt pulled down to where one of her breasts was hanging out, and her skirt bunched up around her waist. To top it off, she had a string of drool that stretched from her mouth down to the carpet. Pathetic, really. I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. If there was any doubt on whether I should proceed, it was dispelled by what I bared witnessed. I almost felt I should start with my mother, and I honestly would have if it wasn't for the fifth commandment: Honor your father and your mother. Honor my father by fulfilling his last wishes and honor my mother by not intervening in her life of being a whore. It was time for me to leave the proverbial nest and begin my life. With Megan. Honoring My Father's Last Words I took a deep breath and immediately went to work. My first order of business was to not wake up the harlot. I crept to my room and pulled out my suitcase. Now what to take with me... Clothes were obvious but I only packed a couple outfits. I knew I could always come back for the rest of them. Now for the essentials: my computer, blank CD's and DVD's, speakers and some wire, a strobe light, my digital recorder, and I even went into the attic to retrieve my father's old commode; all were in my arms before I snuck out the back door. I must have looked like I belonged in a mental institution with all the oddities I was carrying. Pedestrians stared. Drivers honked. Even a homeless man looked at me funny and he had a shopping cart full of garbage. But as Luke 6:37 states, Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven. So I didn't care. Let them judge me. They will be judged themselves by a higher power. And I was resolute. I unpacked everything I brought into Megan's basement and immediately went to work. I located where her bedroom was, drilled a hole and placed a speaker right behind her headboard by her pillow. I set up the commode and strobe light for when their uses were required. I burned CD's of some of her favorite songs and left them by her CD player. I worked on some DVD's of religious documentaries that we might show to our youth group even though I knew we wouldn't... or maybe we would; just not my versions. I even took something of Megan's, her webcam, and set it up near the commode. Lastly, I had to locate a couple old friends of mine, the twins, John and Lucas Silver. * It had been three years since I had seen the twins. They were a part of my school friends until our freshman year. We grew apart as we journeyed on our separate paths. My path was righteous. There's was drugs. And I gulped as I stared at the rusted, off its top hinge, window missing from the middle screen door of the seemingly rotted, termite infested, roof partly caved in, windows broken, on what was once known as a house. I felt I needed a hazmat suit just to knock on the door. Second, third, and fourth thoughts all invaded my mind but, alas, I had no other ideas on where to get what I needed. I reached forward and through the missing window of the screen door. My hand flexed involuntarily before I rasped on the splintered wood, barely making a firm knock. I quickly pulled my hand back lest a piece of the door fall on it. It took a couple moments, but I was certain I was heard and therefore grateful I didn't have to touch that door again, as I heard some rustling on the other side. Unless that was a rat. A six foot tall rat. As if I wasn't on edge enough, I now had to brace for the possibility Mickey might answer the door. "Man, it's too early," the male voice behind the door groaned before I heard him rustling with the lock. Early? It's two in the afternoon... The door swung open to reveal John Silver with his brother barely breathing lying in an unnatural position on the couch. He wiped at his long black hair to remove it from his face but then had to use his arm as a shield against the sunlight. "What do you want?" "Hello John," I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice. "Remember me?" "Uh... no," John scratched his head as if really trying to think about it. "Oh... Well, I'm Sam Campbell and I was wondering... if... by chance... you might... um... know where I could locate... some... uh... L... S... D?" Not that I condone what he did, but as for the how, LSD had a profound effect on Charles Manson's followers. John looked at me stone serious, "You a cop?" I looked at him like he had sprouted an elephant's trunk from his nose. "Uh, no." He eyed me for just a moment longer before his face softened, "C'mon in." John didn't open the door and I was afraid of the touching the screen as it looked as if the slightest touch would knock it over. "Um..." John glanced back over his shoulder, "C'mon." I glanced at my obstacle before stepping into the house... through the emptiness of where the glass should have been. "So you remember me?" "No," John laughed as he started looking for something. "Oh." I glanced around to notice the inside of the house was worse than the outside. "We went to school together... all through elementary. I went by Samuel back then. We even..." "Shut up; I don't care." John then grabbed a brown paper bag that was buried under a pile of papers, a pizza box, beer bottles, and a Hello Kitty pez dispenser. He then went to the end of the couch and unburied what I originally thought was just a pile of garbage and dirty laundry, and then perhaps an end table, but it turned out to be a small fridge. He put something in the bag before tossing it at me, "Here, these are LSD sugar cubes." Due to my incredible athletic ability, I snatched the bag out of the air... Or at least I attempted to. I swiped at it, grabbing only air while the bag hit me square in the chest and fell to the floor. John snickered at my futility. It was an easy transaction after that. I gave him money. He collapsed on the love seat. I left. He passed out. When I got back to Megan's place, soon to be our home, it was all about preparation for when my future wife arrived. I truly wanted her to be comfortable with my presence in the house so I made dinner. And after that failed, I ordered Chinese food for delivery. I'm afraid I'm going to have to give her frying pan a funeral... * "Wow. What's that smell?" I stood paralyzed as I was setting the table. I thought I had done enough fumigation but Megan's comment when she opened the door told me otherwise. I hung my head and let out a sigh. "Sorry," I said it to myself and was preparing to say it again. "Why are you apologizing? It smells delicious." I looked up to see Megan smiling and it caused me to let out a relieved chuckle. "Well, this is what happens when I try to cook. Apparently I am so inept we now get to feast on take out. And I'm apologizing because I had to throw out a frying pan." "It's all right; I have a couple of them." Megan laughed again before sitting down. "Whether it be homemade or take out, thank you. It's nice to come home to dinner." "No, thank you for letting me stay here." I grabbed two sodas from the fridge. * "By the way, I saw a fascinating documentary I thought we could show the youth group. Interested in checking it out?" While I was putting away dinner, I grabbed one of the sugar cubes laced with LSD. "How about dessert before the movie?" "Sure to the documentary," Megan then asked as she put the plates in the sink. "But dessert?" "Yeah, it's just a sugar cube. I figured we should end the meal with something sweet." "Sounds good," Megan smiled. And I was resolute. Megan put it in her mouth and briefly cringed, "Wow, that's really sweet." I smiled, "Ready for the movie?" * We went into the living room and Megan got comfortable on the couch. I went to her DVD player. I put in my special disk and joined her on the couch. Soon a spinning cross appeared on the main screen while an instrumental version of Amazing Grace played in the background. It was a simple documentary about how Jesus communicates with us in our everyday lives... except I had laced it with subliminal messages. Subliminal messages that I recorded and then altered the sound of so that they would be picked up by the brain as if spoken from someone kind, yet imposing... Like how I envision God would sound. At first, it was every five to six minutes starting at the five minute mark. The phrases then became more rapid; every four minutes, three minutes, two minutes, every minute, and then finally every thirty seconds the phrases were bombarding her psyche. You desire Sam Campbell. You are attracted to Sam Campbell. You aspire to be Sam Campbell's wife. Your goal is Sam Campbell's happiness. You wish to please Sam Campbell. You live for Sam Campbell. Sam Campbell is your ideal husband. You want Sam Campbell to covet you. You love Sam Campbell. You want to be sexy for Sam Campbell. Okay, I admit I threw that last one in there because I am a teenager with raging hormones. But what is wrong with wanting your wife to want to be sexy for you? The documentary came to its conclusion and I glanced at Megan. I could tell either the drug or the messages or both were having a profound effect on her. She was staring intently at me. Her eyes were dilated. Her mouth hung partially open. Her body was a statue. I gave Megan a soft smile, "Did you like it?" "Oh, uh," Megan wiped at her forehead. "I don't know. Um, I think I need some water." "I'll get it." I went into the kitchen and deliberately waited. I waited for the documentary to run through its credits and start over. I returned, handed Megan the glass of water, and sat down. She sipped the beverage before setting it down on the coffee table. She was already enthralled in the documentary again. The night was long... brutally long. I knew LSD could cause a religious experience, especially since I was steering the night in that direction, but I had failed to check how long the drug would last. Nearly twelve hours!?!?!? I finally ended up lying her down around four thirty in the morning, and she still wasn't quite ready for bed herself. I, however, crashed on the couch and in less than a minute after that, was out cold. * An alarm sounded in the distance and I would have sworn I had just gone to bed. I struggled for my phone to note it was only six thirty in the morning. "Oh my goodness." I flopped back into the couch and started rubbing my eyes. I heard Megan drudgingly make it to the bathroom. I don't even think she took a step as it sounded like she dragged her feet down the hallway. I knew I wasn't going to school today. I was exhausted. I, however, still had to portray as if I was going to school so I reluctantly forced myself to get up and get dressed. Megan emerged from the bathroom looking weary. She did her best to try to hide it with some makeup, but it was obvious she had a late night. She was wearing her typical conservative blouse and skirt, though the skirt was worn at her knees instead of her ankles and she had left the top two buttons of her blouse undone. She took my breath away. Megan smiled at seeing my countenance and if it wasn't for the slight rouge on her cheeks, I would have sworn she blushed as well. "Ready for school?" "Despite the late night, I believe I am," I returned her smile with one of my own as I pulled my backpack over my shoulder. "Sorry about that," Megan shied away while her hand tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. "I don't know what happened." "Don't apologize," I chuckled and then more seriously, "I enjoyed it thoroughly." Megan's head jerked upward. Her smile went ear to ear, "Yeah, me too. It was..." and her voice went to an almost whisper, "special." She then stepped toward me, bringing her lips to my cheek for the briefest of moments. "Have a good day at school." "You have a good day at work." My hand went to her cheek and lightly brushed against it, "I'll see you tonight." "I look forward to it." I walked out the front door with a huge smile. Twenty minutes later, I walked in the front door and did exactly what I saw John Silver do yesterday; I collapsed onto the couch and passed out. * I woke up late in the afternoon, feeling refreshed. I had just enough time cook. I ordered a pizza. I then took out my calculus book. I really didn't want to fall too far behind. Megan arrived shortly thereafter. I noticed her blouse was buttoned all the way to her neck now. "Hello, Megan. How was work?" "Oh, hi Sam," Megan glanced down at herself before turning around. She seemed to take a moment before she slipped off her shoes. Upon turning back around, the top two buttons of her blouse were unclasped and she wore a bright smile. "It was good. It dragged a little because I was really tired, but I made the best of it. How was your day?" "Not bad." At that moment, the doorbell rang. Megan was startled at the unexpected sound from the unexpected visitor. "Who could that possibly be?" "I ordered pizza," I grabbed the money I had set on the coffee table and stood. "I doubt either of us is in any mental state to cook. It's been a long day." "Yes it has," Megan chuckled as she opened the door. Megan took the pizza as I paid the delivery driver. When I turned around, I saw Megan had grabbed two cans of cola, two plates, and had everything ready in the living room. As I sat, she put a slice of pizza on a plate and handed it to me. * "It's nice to have someone to come home to." Megan smiled but that quickly turned into a yawn. We had eaten dinner slowly and as we were relaxing on the couch, I could now see the true effect last night had on her. "Tired?" Megan yawned again, "That's an understatement." "Yeah, you look tired." I then began to talk in a hushed, relaxed voice, "So very tired. Exhausted. Your eyelids are getting heavy. Just relax right now. You deserve to relax. Just let the tension release from your body. Deeper and deeper; the deeper you go, the better you are going to feel. You can only hear the sound of my voice. Just let go and relax." I had chosen this golden opportunity to hypnotize Megan. As LSD was to plant the idea, hypnotism was meant to encourage the behavior I feel is necessary in a wife. If it can help someone quit smoking or lose weight, it can help in my endeavor as well. I also had my digital recorder at the ready. And I was resolute. I lifted her limp arm for verification and it fell back by her side. "I want you to remember this feeling and every time I snap my fingers, I want you to come back to this warm, relaxing place. Understand?" "Yes." "Megan, do you want to be a wife?" A hushed "yes" escaped Megan's lips. "I am going to help you, Megan. I'm going to help you get what you want. I'm going to tell you what it means to be a good wife." I kept my voice monotone as I continued, "Proverbs 31:10-12 - An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life and Proverbs 21:9 - It is better to live in a corner of the housetop than in a house shared with a quarrelsome wife." "Megan, this means you must always think of Sam first and that you will never argue with him." "1 Corinthians 11:8-9 - For man was not made from woman, but woman from man. Neither was man created for woman, but woman for man and Ephesians 5:22-6:9 - Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands." "Which means you were created for Sam and you should submit to him." "1 Timothy 2:11-14 - Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor." "This means it is a man's job to teach a woman; that it is my job to teach you. This is simple. The expectations are to not argue with Sam; to not lie or cheat or steal from Sam; to keep the house in good order and food prepared. Sam may help you, but it is your responsibility." Now to cover all my bases. I'm not sure what I want in this department, I just know I am a male teenager. And I am resolute. "Lastly Megan, we come to 1 Corinthians 7:2-5 - But because of the temptation to sexual immorality, each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband. The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does." "This one is very simple. A husband wants his wife to always be ready for him. At home, you should wear lingerie to entice Sam... only lingerie. Outside, you're current wardrobe will suffice as you should only show off for Sam. You should be willing to please Sam sexually by whatever means necessary so he does not want to stray. It is your job to gratify Sam to your utmost. To be Sam's wife, you must be creative and willing." There, that should do it. "Now tell me what you learned, Megan." I pressed record on the digital recorder. "I am to think of Sam first. I am to never argue with Sam. I am to not lie or cheat or steal from Sam. I am to keep the house in good order and food prepared. Sam may help me, but it is my responsibility. I am also to only wear lingerie in the house but my current clothes are fine outside of the home. I am to always be creative and willing to please Sam sexually. I am to be Sam's wife." I turned off the recorder. "You have learned well, Megan. Now I want you to remember this as a dream. You merely fell asleep on the couch. All that you learned, you will feel they were all your ideas. You will act on your lessons and view them as nothing more than showing Sam what you can offer as his wife." I sat on the floor, the coffee table in front of me with my calculus book and notebook open. "I am going to count backwards from ten. With each number you are going to begin to waken, feeling better. Ten. Nine. You are beginning to waken. Eight. Seven. You are starting to feel good. Six. Five. Your senses are coming alive. Four. Three. A wave of joy is washing over you. Two. One. Wake up." I heard Megan stirring behind me. I read the problem as if I was talking to myself, "f(x)=ln[(2x-5)/(cos^2 3x)]." "Sam?" I turned to see Megan rubbing her eyes. "Hey Megan, how was your nap?" "It was good," Megan gave a slight chuckle. "How long was I out?" "About an hour." "Sorry about that." "No worries," I smiled. "I had some homework to do anyway." "Almost done?" Megan bit her lower lip. I am not sure how to describe it, but Megan was looking at me in a way she had never done before. I wrote down 2x-5 and then closed my textbook. "I will be for you." Megan smiled at me as if I was doing the sweetest of gestures. She patted the couch next to her. "Care to join me?" "Of course." I pushed myself up and sat in the comfort of the couch. Megan dove at me. Her arms wrapped around me, her head found my chest, and her tears soaked into my shirt. I was now worried I had somehow negatively affected her. I did the only thing I could think of and put my arms around her in a comforting manner. "Megan, what's wrong?" "Nothing," Megan sniffled. She looked up at me and gave a slight smile, "I am just... I am just," her head moved closer with each stutter, "I am just... happy." Megan's lips connected with mine. It felt absolutely electric. Granted I have no basis of comparison as this was my first kiss, but still, it felt amazing. It felt like heaven. I'm not quite sure how long it lasted, but after sometime, our perfection ended and our lips separated. Megan gave a small giggle before making a solitary noise, "Mmm." I had to agree. "My sentiments exactly." Our lips melted into each other. It was as memorable as a moment ago. Megan shifted slightly and her hand that was entrenched around my stomach began a light grazing. It went from my side to my chest, and then ventured down in random circular motions. Our kiss raged on when Megan did something completely unexpected - she rubbed my erection... and not just in an 'oops, I brushed up against you,' no, it was a full on 'my palm is massaging up and down against your shaft.' Honoring My Father's Last Words Not that I was complaining. I moaned my response into her mouth and I felt her smile against me. My muted voice of pleasure seemed to spur her further into breaking through our old boundary of me just being her assistant to something much more fulfilling. She unzipped my pants. With a flick of her thumb and index finger, she unbuttoned them too. My cock felt the open air. My cock felt Megan's hand. She treated my manhood with a delicate, feathery touch which caused my erection to twitch. It gave me the impression that her actions were not only for my benefit, but for hers as well. She was curious. So was I. I slipped my right hand in between us. There was a paper thin gap separating my hand and the promised land - Megan's breast. I tentatively moved forward. I felt her shirt and barely applied force. Upon knowing what I was attempting to accomplish, Megan pressed her body forward, my hand immediately grasped her clothed mound - Oh My! I have never touched anything so amazing. So soft. So pliable. So utterly wonderful. I jiggled them. I twisted them. I groped them. It was my very own hands on workshop and I attempted every possibility. It didn't take long for my body to act beyond my reason. Completely involuntary, my midsection thrust upward. My body was begging for a more firm touch. Megan was absolutely exuberant with my reaction. She giggled into my mouth before intensifying our already deep kiss. Her hand seemed to understand my uncontrolled movement as it encased my engorged organ. She began a pumping action and it was quickly met with my hips meeting her pace. How could I not control that? I didn't last long. I broke our kiss, another involuntary movement on my part, and my tone seemed to jump two octaves as I voiced my pleasure, "Oh, dear God." It seemed fitting to bring God into this momentous occasion. I came. I came hard. My body tightened and I shot forth my essence into the air. I slumped back into the couch while Megan curled up next to me, her hand now caressing what was left of my erection. I grabbed the left over dinner napkins and handed them to Megan. She cleaned her hand quickly and tossed them onto the coffee table. All without even the slightest shift in her body. It was obvious she didn't want to leave the cuddle we were sharing. I didn't blame her as neither did I. I pulled the afghan that was draped over the back of the couch and wrapped us into it, firmly molding our bodies together. It didn't take long for sleep to sweep over both of us. * I felt the morning light tickle my eyelids. I went to rub my eyes and realized I couldn't as I was entangled in something...err, I should say someone. I opened my eyes and glanced down. Megan was still cuddled with me and she looked beautiful. I involuntarily smiled at seeing her... my body seemed to be doing a lot of involuntary movements lately. I gave a light chuckle at my own thought and it lasted until I looked at the clock... seven thirty... in the morning. I should be leaving right now and Megan should be leaving in ten minutes. But here we were, just lying cuddled together with her hand still resting on my manhood. "Megan," I lightly shook her form. "It's seven thirty. We're going to be late." Megan's eyes fluttered open. She saw me and broadly smiled, "Morning." She brushed at her hair as she dreamily gazed at me. "What time did you say it was?" "Seven thirty." Megan let out a frustrated sigh, "I don't want to get up." "Neither do I, but..." "I know," Megan cut me off. She gave me a brief kiss before continuing, "Work and school are calling." I never saw two people move faster than at that moment. I had already missed two days of school so I knew I had to go today. She obviously has to go to work as there are still bills to pay. Life sure can get in the way of a person trying to make another person their own. At least I got another kiss from her before I ran out of the house. Megan's lips are addicting. The day was brutally long. I was behind from missing two days and distracted because all I could think about was Megan. I did all I could, however, to catch up. I skipped lunch to do homework. I hurried to class so I could do homework while the teacher did attendance. I did homework on the bus ride home. I even spoke a report into my recorder as I walked from the bus stop to home. All so I could make sure my attention and focus was on one Megan Reed. My influence was obviously working. Now it was time to strengthen it. When I arrived home, I was surprised Megan's car was in the driveway. I was immediately nervous. I hesitantly opened the door and peeked in. Everything appeared normal... Normal except Megan was in the kitchen singing to one of the CD's I had burned. Being that the songs were only a couple minutes each, the messages they advertised were much more straight forward like, "Love Sam" and "Devote yourself to Sam." I felt I achieved something as she unknowingly already started the strengthening of her conditioning on her own, but still, why was she home? "Hello?" I called out as I set my book bag down. "Megan?" "Sam!" Megan's footfalls came quick and when she turned the corner, my eyes bugged out of my head and I gulped at the vision. She was running. She was running in a red bustier with black trim, and a matching thong with garters attached to fishnet stockings. To complete her ensemble, she was wearing a black collar. This was new. "Wow." It was all I could say. Megan stopped right in front of me, looking at me in that odd way again. "Welcome home, Baby." She kissed me and it was wonderful as usual. "You look absolutely amazing." "You think so?" Megan blushed at my compliment. "Then you're going to love this." Megan dropped to her knees. I wasn't sure what she was hoping to accomplish, but after last night, I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She deftly worked open my jeans before she lowered them along with my underwear to a point where my cock was sticking straight out. She looked up at me and smiled, her eyes locking with mine as she parted her lips and moved closer. Megan's lips touched the underside of my shaft while her tongue grazed it. She moved all around, offering almost a teasing sensation to every spot she encountered. When she came to the tip, her mouth opened wider and she leaned forward. My erection slowly disappeared between her parted lips. "Oh, God." I had to grab onto something, lest I fall, but from where I was, nothing was in reach. The only thing I could do was reach out and entwine my hand into Megan's hair. Megan took that as some sort of signal and frankly, I'm glad she did because I had never felt anything like it. It was exhilarating. It was euphoric. Her head started franticly bobbing on my erection and I was already conspiring as to how many times a week or even per day I was going to condition Megan to do this to me. I lasted a little longer than yesterday, but not much. I felt the churning, my body on the precipice of something spectacular. I couldn't move. The hand on the back of Megan's head clamped down. "Oh, dear God." I lost all my senses as I let loose a torrent of what felt like my soul into Megan's awaiting mouth. My body quaked in delight and I would have collapsed if I wasn't holding onto her head... Her head! I released my captive and she coughed before she desperately inhaled. Oops. "I'm so sorry Megan." Megan looked up at me. She had tears in her eyes from not being able to breath but still had a smile on her face... along with my cum. "No, I'm sorry. I've never done that before so I wasn't expecting it. I'll do better next time. I promise." Sorry? Better next time? I was just grateful she wanted to do it again on her own. "No need for sorry. That was one of the greatest experiences of my life." Megan beamed at my comment. "I also made dinner; chicken Alfredo. I figured you've made sure dinner was ready the past two nights, today was my turn." "Sounds and smells delicious." I sat at the kitchen table as she served dinner. It is really a sight to behold to watch a woman do everyday activities wearing lingerie. "So how did you beat me home?" Megan grinned an 'I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar' grin. "I called in sick. I needed to pick up a few things." She then did a pirouette to show me her new ensemble. "Do you like?" I looked her dead in the eyes, "Breathtakingly Beautiful. When I saw you running to me, me heart skipped in my chest." "I'm glad you like it. I just felt you deserved to have something visually stimulating while you're at home." Megan then sat down, "But this is just for you. I wouldn't want anyone to try and break the tenth commandment just because I dressed inappropriately." "I wouldn't have even dreamed of asking you to. But I must admit, I am really enjoying the new look." I took a bite of the pasta, "Not to mention the food. You are an impressive cook." "Thank you." I could tell Megan truly felt pride. From her looks to her cooking, all that she did today was an overwhelming success. We went to bed separately; Megan in her bed and I on the couch. I think with all that we have done, we almost forgot we weren't actually married yet and so, we went to sleep separately. It also afforded me the opportunity to manipulate her dreams. And I was resolute. I went down to the basement and accessed my computer. Auditory sensory stimulus works best to negotiate another's dreams, but the trick is to keep the stimulus light. I didn't want to wake her. What I had made was simple storytelling. Since REM sleep varies to between five minutes to forty five minutes, I told a series of short stories, no more than five minutes long, with her and I as the stars. We would be eating out at a restaurant or having a picnic. We would be cuddling on the couch watching a movie or I'd have my arm around her while at the theatre. We were at our wedding or watching our kids play in the backyard while we watched from a couple lawn chairs. Simple scenarios, really. I kept it playing but gave it an automated shutoff time at three forty five. Megan normally got up at six thirty and a typical sleep cycle is an hour and a half. I felt it better to have it shut off before the last cycle just in case something woke her up in the middle of it. People tend to be most restless that last cycle. I went to bed. * I was almost late for school. Not because I overslept or I had to run back home because I forgot something... no, it was because the good bye kiss Megan and I shared was that long. Absolutely amazing - especially since she was still wearing her lingerie. The day was again brutally long. The good news was that I had a good Christian woman waiting for me at home. Or I suppose it would be I'll be waiting for her at home. Regardless of point of view, I knew Megan was all mine. * Or not. I came home and Megan was there. Surprising yes, but since she did it the day before, I was less worried. I opened the door half expecting her to be on her knees waiting for me half expecting her to be cooking in the kitchen. I wished it was either one of those scenarios. No, Megan was pacing the living room in her lingerie with her purse in one hand, keys in the other, and her shoes on as if she was ready to leave. "Megan, what's wrong?" "Sam," Megan's eyes showed a deep fear and she took two steps away from me. "I... I... I don't know. There's something not right. There's something not right with me." "Tell me," I soothed. "What's not right? What can I do to make it better?" "After you left, I went to the bathroom to get ready. I caught myself staring at the way I looked in the mirror... for two hours! Thank the Lord I had the good sense to call in sick but," Megan's eyes became swimming pools as she welled up on verge of exploding. "I shouldn't be feeling like this!" The flood gates opened and she started to cry. "Feeling like what?" "Like right now," Megan sniffled. "All I want to do is come over there, pull down your pants and suck you off. Or... Or just run over there and make out with you. Look at me," Megan's arms flailed wide. "I never would have worn this before and when I'm in the house, I can't take it off. Worse of all, I got you involved in this. I'm even dreaming about you," her crying then turned into a sob. I was hoping it wouldn't have come to this. Up till now, everything I've done was attacking her subconscious. I had hoped that would be enough. Alas, I now have to break her conscious mind as well. "Megan. Poor Megan... I like you." Her head jerked up at that statement. "As first as a mentor and then as a friend," I refrained from adding and now as a wife. "I like you and as you had offered to help me, I will help you." I walked over to her and took her hand. "Follow me." I felt the hesitation in Megan as I lead her to the basement. She was trembling. "Even right now," Megan's voice was barely a whisper as if she was afraid of repercussion, "I feel I should be asking why we are going to the basement, but I can't actually bring myself to ask it. It was hard even saying it this way." "You should trust your instincts Megan. If your body is telling you to trust me or wear lingerie, then you should." I sat her on my father's old commode and began tying her hands to the arms with speaker wire. I then removed her thong and tied her ankles to the legs the same way. "Nothing's wrong with trusting yourself." Megan looked around and her fear increased though she only seemed to be able to express it with random unintelligible syllables. She still couldn't argue with me. I went to the computer, turned on the webcam, and set up a private channel. I then brought up the file from her hypnotism and turned the sound up to full blast. Immediately, Megan's own voice began telling her that she should think of me first. That she should never argue with me. She is to not lie or cheat or steal from me. That she is to keep the house in good order and food prepared. I may help her, but it is her responsibility. She is also to wear only lingerie in the house but her current clothes are fine outside of the home. She is to always be creative and willing to please me sexually. That she is to be my wife. I then turned on the strobe light and adjusted it to where it would often hit her. The frequent bright flashes should do well enough to keep her from dozing off. This was going to be my combined version of what some prisoners of war had to endure and the Stockholm Syndrome. The POW's were sleep and food deprived to weaken their minds. They were then demoralized by having their own comrades throw insults at them. It is much more effective than hearing it from your captives. In my version, Megan is going to be told what to do from herself. She will then correlate that she is the one torturing her. I am then going to cause a Stockholm Syndrome effect by coming in periodically to turn off the player and provide very small amounts of food and water which will generate sympathy for me as she perceives the lack of abuse when I am there as kindness. This will, in turn, create in her that we share the same values. And I was resolute. I turned off the monitor and went to the top of the stairs. With a flick of a finger, I turned off the remaining lights. Megan was now alone in the dark. Her only companion was her voice and her only light was from the menacing strobe light. I contacted Megan's work to call her off tomorrow. It was her last sick day and I hoped that all would be complete by Monday morning lest she be fired. I really would feel guilty if that happened. I set up Megan's computer so I could watch my future wife. A proper husband would never let any harm come to his spouse. I then studied. I watched television. I read a book. I tried to occupy myself until I had to go back downstairs. Eight hours. That is what I gave myself as a timeframe. Every eight hours I went to see Megan and offered her a slice of bread and some water while checking the commode for any deposits. Every eight hours I saw Megan run through the gambit of emotions; depression, anger, scared, hopelessness, confusion... Every eight hours it was something new. All without a word spoken to me. It took two days before I saw a glimmer of the end. I came down and did my normal routine. I turned off the computer, fed her a slice of bread, gave her a small glass of water, and checked the commode. "Thank you." The words were barely audible as if spoken from the shiest of child's after prodding from a parent. I knelt down in front of Megan and my hand caressed her check, "I promise I will get you out of this. I promise to save my wife." My lips scraped against hers for the briefest of moments before I hurriedly ran from the room. It was all meant to create the impression that some other force was keeping me from giving her salvation. Eight hours later I returned. She was quietly repeating the recorded words she was forced to listen to; even after I shut it off. This time I brought a very small portion of the leftover chicken Alfredo. "Here, I snuck this for you." Megan's eyes told me everything. To her, that small gesture was the equivalent of the Lord dying for all man's sins. "Thank you." Megan's words were spoken the same as last time, the only difference was she offered the faintest of smiles. Our eyes met and I reciprocated the slight smile. I made haste and left again, certain that the next time I came downstairs would be my last. It was seven a.m. Sunday morning. I had prepared a large breakfast; eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes adorned the kitchen table. I verified I had the small box in my pocket and smiled, certain that today will be the first day of the rest of my and Megan's life. My hand clutched the basement door and I took a deep breath before opening it and turning on the light. I rushed downstairs. Megan barely lifted her head, now stating the recorded message with conviction. I had only paused a moment before I went to the computer. Instead of just closing down the torture device, I made a grand gesture by unplugging the power cord from the back of it and tossed the wire. I charged the strobe light and knocked it over. I then turned towards Megan. I knelt down; keeping my eyes locked onto hers as I began untying her restraints. "I have kept my promise and I have freed you." When she had full use of her body, Megan fell forward into my arms. Her lips met mine and we kissed. "I knew you would. I knew my husband would save me. My hero, my husband." "Yeah, about that." My words gave her pause and I knew she thought I was rejecting her. Tears began to form in her eyes. In reality it was a stall tactic as I reached into my pocket. I pulled out the box and flipped it open, "Let's make that official. Will you marry me?" The ring was a simple gold band with a solitary diamond. My grandmother had given it to me before she had passed away last year in hopes that my future marriage to whoever I gave it to would endure the test of time as hers and my grandfathers had done. Megan did start crying, but this time it was tears of joy. "Yes. A million times, yes." She stared appreciatively at the ring as I slipped it on her finger. She then looked me in the eyes, gazing at me in the way that always made me adore her. "I know it has been a while since I've done my wifely duties; will you make love to me? I know you want me to be creative sexually and I promise I will, but please, will you make love to your wife on this day? "As long as we can get married today, for I do not wish to be disgraced in the eyes of God." I rolled her onto her back. "I'm sure Father Eckhart would do it after mass today. I don't want to wait. We can still plan a wedding, one that our friends and relatives can witness, but I don't want to spend another day without you as my wife." Honoring My Father's Last Words Megan smiled broadly, "Neither do I." We embraced in the most heartfelt manner and sealed our promise with a kiss. I was unsure of what to do, but I was certain of what was going to happen. Megan trapped her lower lip in her teeth and looked at me that way again. I was beginning to understand what it meant: Love. It was love and she was ready to express it. I stared in her eyes. It was the first time I know for certain I looked at Megan the same way she has been looking at me. "I love you." "I love you too." I reached between our bodies to pull down my pants. I moved my hips forward and the tip of my erection scraped against her thigh. I shifted to the right, and I missed again. Megan giggled, "Let me help you." She reached between us and took hold of my cock and put it right at her entrance. "Thanks," I smiled. "Just go slow, please. I've never done this before." I knew she was a good Christian woman. "I have heard this may hurt you then... Are you going to be okay?" Megan looked away from me in shame. "I have a toy that I sometimes use." When she finished, her lips were quivering and she sounded as if she was going to cry. "That's okay." I turned Megan's head to where our eyes locked, "But you have me now." Megan gave a slight nod with a relieved smile. I leaned forward and as I entered her channel, Megan let out a sharp intake of air. I myself let loose an almost excited sigh at entering the only female I will ever make love to. When my manhood became completely engulfed in her sheath, I paused. I paused to relish the moment. My wife and I sharing our first coupling. It was indescribable to describe how much pleasure I was feeling. "I know exactly how you feel," Megan seemingly read my mind. "For I feel the same way." "I do love you, Megan." "And I you, Sam." I slowly backed out and then slid forward again. When I repeated the motion, Megan met me with just a simple raising of her hips. It took mere moments to create a rhythm of love and passion. On every thrust, she would squeal in pleasure and on every buck I would moan in delight. We were meeting each other head on, solidifying our union in shared ecstasy. My tempo increased. I wanted, needed to finish what I started; to finish making Megan mine. She was right there with me, increasing her pace as if agreeing nonverbally, proving to me she would be right by my side, always. Our eyes had never left each other. I swear I could see Megan's soul through her glittering hazel eyes. Megan's mouth began to take on a permanent O shape as I continued. She was on the verge of bliss and I was not far behind. "Oh God, Sam," Megan wailed. "Yes!" I felt a warm fluid begin to envelope my cock. The new sensation, so foreign to me, also pushed me over the edge. "Megan," I groaned as I pressed my manhood, my pelvis, my entire being against her. "Oh God." It was a tsunami. I flooded her womb with my seed in a Holy rapture. We lay there panting, both with smiles as wide as the Grand Canyon. We held each other tight, enjoying our shared afterglow of our amazing orgasms and our combined love. * We ate breakfast and then went to church. We were both tired and anxious so all we did for the youth group was show the documentary I had showed Megan earlier in the week... minus the manipulative God speak imbedded in the movie. The last thing I would have wanted was a bunch of adolescent girls and boys running up to me and claiming I was to be their husband. After mass, we approached the podium where Father Eckhart was organizing his papers from his sermon. We had took a deep breath and then put on our best smiles as we asked. "Are you sure?" Father Eckhart's face contorted to one of surprise. I suppose if I was in his position, I would be too. "Of course," I answered and Megan nodded in agreement. If that wasn't enough of an answer, Megan further melted into my side, our hands welded tightly together. "Father, we understand that it won't be legal in the eyes of our government and we will be fixing that, but we also don't care. Our lives have been led by God and we want to start our relationship the right way; together in Holy matrimony with God's blessing." Father Eckhart's hand went to his chin as he eyed us curiously. He took his time deliberating our offer in his head. With each passing second, Megan began to fidget and I began to worry that after all my planning, I disgraced myself and the one I love in the eyes of God. We should have waited to consummate our relationship. Finally, Father Eckhart gave a quick chuckle as he nodded his head, "Okay, you have my blessing. Wait here and I'll be right back." I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and Megan jumped with an excited giggle. It didn't take Father Eckhart long. As soon as Megan and I saw him, we took our positions by the altar. "Ready Megan?" I grandly smiled. Megan's smile was just as impressive, "Ready to have my dream fulfilled? Absolutely." Father Eckhart began, "Dearly beloved..." * When we said our "I do's," I knew my father was looking down upon us with pride. I know I made him proud with my choice to follow him in my future career, but most importantly, that I fulfilled his last request of me. His soul may now rest in peace as I have found my good Christian woman and made her my own.