Brother Calhoun loves being the Ward Mission Leader. It gives him incredible pride and joy to be able to enrich the experiences of the missionaries. He had the time of his life when he was an elder and made good friends. He wanted his current calling to be similarly fun, and be an opportunity to bond and build new friendships. For the most part, this was true. But as ward mission leader, he interacted with Brother Strang in the area mission leadership. Brother Strang had a way about him that made Calhoun uncomfortable. For one thing, he stood out because of his long beard and a rugged look which did not exactly blend in with the otherwise clean cut, modern men of the church. But shaving is not a requirement for priesthood leaders, just the young missionary boys. So this was mostly just a clash of aesthetics. But Strang was also quite friendly.
Unusually friendly. Friendly in a kind of a pushy way. Brother Strang would always touch him uninvited. Nothing suggestive, but an arm hold or a quick rub of his back while chatting, and it just seemed unsettling. Calhoun did his best to ignore him, focus on his assignment, and keep guarded for any other encounters with Brother Strang. His girlfriend even suggested he back off altogether, maybe even asking to be released from his calling. But Calhoun was dedicated to his calling. One day while going about his usual tasks in the temple, Brother Calhoun made his way down the stairs to a long row of storage rooms. He wanted to check on a few things before heading to the locker room where he would change back into his street clothes and leave for the day. As he turned a corner on the stairs, he saw Brother Strang standing there, smiling.
He must have been waiting for me, Calhoun thought to himself. He tried to be polite and just move on, but Strang spoke to him. “Brother Calhoun, how are you?” Anxiously, Calhoun responded, “Doing well, how are you?” They continued to exchange small pleasantries, until Calhoun placed his hand on his shoulder. It was more aggressive than the usual hand on shoulder, or prolonged handshake, or similar. More of a hold than a touch. It made Calhoun nervous. “I think I should go,” he said, his voice trembling slightly with unease. Instead of backing away, Brother Strang got a look in his eyes that made Calhoun panic. It was predatory and wild and was followed by a sudden shove against the wall. Brother Strang used his upper body and left arm to pin Calhoun to the wall by his shoulders, and groped the boy’s crotch with his free right hand. Calhoun was stunned by the violent push. He didn’t know what was happening. It was so fast he could hardly think fast enough to react. All he could do was try to struggle his way out of Strangs’ grasp.
In a quick jerking movement, he broke free of Strang’s hand and tried to crawl his way back up the stairs. His climb was cut short as the bearded aggressor pulled him back by his foot, dragging him back down. Strang moved on top of Calhoun, straddling his waist and holding him down on the ground. Calhoun kept telling him to get off, but the wild man covered his mouth. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, making his heart thundered loudly in his chest. He could barely hear his own muffled protests over his own pulse booming in his ears. Strang looked up and around, looking to see if there was anyone around. For a moment, Calhoun thought this might be over. Someone would surely be coming by and help him. This thought was followed by a sudden and strange feeling of desire. Somewhere in the back of his mind, beyond his own comprehension, he didn’t want this to stop. He wanted to be taken. Strang was scanning to see if things were clear, and in a split second Calhoun switched from panic to frustration that Strang might just stop there…and then he pulled Strang’s face toward him for a kiss. Brother Strang responded by kissing the young man passionately and aggressively at MISSIONARY BOYS.
And to his amusement, Calhoun was kissing him back. But Strang became impatient and wanted more than just kissing. He lifted the young man up to his feet and pressed him against the wall once more. He held him firmly in place with an arm and a leg, removing his belt and pulling his pants down. Calhoun’s breaths were shallow and quick, still trying to catch up from their stairwell wrestle. With Calhoun’s pants down, Strang had full view of special garments. In a heat of excitement, he turned the young man around, pressing him against the wall even harder, and pulled down his garments, exposing his snow white behind. Calhoun feared where this was headed, but was in a state of shock and internal conflict. He felt his body overpowered and confined. He lost all feeling of security and will. Strang was in control and he wasn’t sure he could or even should fight back. He repeated “no” and “stop” but felt like the possibility was slim that anyone would hear or intervene in that part of the temple. Strang knew this boy’s protests were in vain, which is why he singled him out in the first place. Strang could sense Calhoun wanted to be dominated, controlled, and used by another man. It came off of him like a pheromone that he could smell every time he got close. Calhoun’s awkwardness around him wasn’t fear, but rather desire. Desire that had been so locked down, deeply repressed and quieted that even Calhoun had no idea it was there.
Calhoun continued futilely, putting up just enough of a fight to convince himself that he tried, but Strang just whispered in his ear, “you know you want it.” Strang unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall behind him, a sound that shot Calhoun into total fear and even made him struggle to get free of the wall. Strang reinforced himself against him. And in the same motion, he pulled his cock out of his garments and pressed it between the scared boy’s cheeks. Calhoun continued to say no, despite his growing erection, but deep down he knew the inevitable: he was going to be fucked. Strang spit a bit on the tip of cock and pressed himself firmly against Calhoun’s exposed hole. Calhoun let out a pained sound as Strang pierced through his sphincter, feeling his sensitive hole give under the man’s force. “It hurts,” he said, barely above a whisper–more of a plea to slow down than a no. “That’s not what your ass says,” Strang replied flippantly, filling his ass further and harder. Strang’s hard cock invaded Calhoun’s body, fucking him roughly and aggressively. The young man closed his eyes and breathed, taking it as best he could, all the while thinking in the back of his mind, “More…” and, “More…”
