Elder Edwards sat with his chest out, shoulders back against the chair, keeping his head held high. He’d been taught his whole life to always stay poised and confident and to present himself with the utmost attention to detail. And even now, as he sweated out President Ballard’s interrogation, he did not falter in those early lessons. Elder Edwards was used to worthiness interviews, discussing with his local bishops and priesthood leaders his past sins, his repentance, and his diligent efforts to avoid them in the future. This time, Ballard seemed singularly focused, something Edwards had not prepared for and didn’t fully know how to respond. “Have you had sexual fantasies of any kind?” “Yes,” Edwards answered with the confidence and strength of a well-trained missionary. He knew to always confirm his short comings and be ready with corrective actions. After all, there was a paradoxical pride to be had in chaste humility. “With men?” “No.” It came out as emphatically as if he were rejecting Satan himself. He barely heard the question before he was able to fire off the appropriate answer. “Really?” “Never.” Edwards continued to dole out the standard line about childhood discretion, little innocent exploration here and there, but holding firm to his rejection of his past sins and his journey toward piety. He could have run for office, he was so well rehearsed. Still, President Ballard was too keen to fall for the lines. Every young missionary was taught well by men like him how to speak with moral conviction. And Ballard could see there was something behind the boy’s clear, blue eyes he was holding on to. Something he was hiding. Something that he shielded with his model-like good looks, perfect posture, and good grooming. “...And what about your companion?” Elder Edward’s face, naturally a pinky pale hue, began to redden around his temples and cheeks. “I’ve told him about this. He seemed interested and understanding, but that was it.” Ballard watched as the boy’s eyes intensified, widening to reveal more of the blue, crystalline pools. The boy’s tie seemed to help exaggerate their color… yet another tool to keep the boy’s appearance distracting and disarming. But not for Ballard. He knew this boy was beautiful, but it was what he keep inside the he was after. “That’s not exactly what I heard,” he continued, shifting the tone in his voice from idling questioning now to one of condemnation. “It’s my understanding that when he came out of the shower, that’s when this occurred. And that you looked at his body. And that you kept looking.” Elder Edward’s face was now a bright red. His rehearsed words escaped him. He felt stripped of his tools, his shields, his guards. He could see Ballard looking at him--through him. He felt his heart race as he tried to think of a response. “I’ll also you again: have you ever had sexual thoughts about men?” “No!” “And would you ever?” “No--never!” Ballard moved himself closer. His chair was a careful distance away, but as he scooted himself to the edge of his seat, his knees brushed against the missionary’s. It was a quick and incidental action, but enough that it made Elder Edwards nervous. He wasn’t sure why, but something about President Ballard made him hot. “Are you willing to prove that you don’t have these feelings?” In a rush to response affirmative and cooperative, Elder Edwards answered, “Absolutely.” He had no idea how he could prove it. After all, how do you prove you don’t feel something? President Ballard stared him in the eye, meeting his gaze with a firm, dominant look. “Stand up… and take you clothes off.” “What?!” Edwards was shocked. This seemed wildly improper and irregular. It was a break from all his known practices and routines. Every script he’d memorized now failed him for this moment, and he didn’t know what to say. “Go on. Stand up and take your clothes off.” Elder Edwards rose to his feet, feeling his hands tremble as he reached for the buttons of his suit jacket. His strong, confident demeanor began to weaken, shocked by the impropriety of this request. Still, he knew he had no choice. President Ballard was accusing him of something very severe, and the only way to get out of that was to go along with his requests. As he removed his clothes and stripped down his garments, President Ballard could see his body’s frame and build. The suit was cut to him perfectly, giving him a statuesque physique, but his true shape and size was a thing of beauty. He had well developed muscles, clearly a part of both good exercise and good genetics. His chest was full and wide, supported by a solid core. His legs were thick and athletic, a beautiful specimen of athletic prowess. Were he not on his mission, he could have been an underwear model. Luckily for Ballard, he was given a private show of the boy’s natural talents. “Sit down. Hands behind the chair.” Edwards sat back where he’d been, once again assuming the strong posture and position he’d had when he’d been clothed. “Don’t move them until I tell you,” Ballard continued, itching himself closer to the seated boy. He ran his hand up his legs, watching his face closely as he did. His legs were naturally smooth and hairless, as if to accentuate the firm natural mass of his thighs. As Ballard’s fingers moved up toward his crotch, Edwards took a gulp in his mouth, trying to swallow down his discomfort and confusion. His hands moved further in to his crotch, pressing into the crease of his underwear, feeling the warmth of the boy’s genitals. They were held tightly in the white garments, reacting to his touch little by little. “Interesting.” Elder Edward’s face got redder. It practically glowed. Ballard could see his reaction spreading down to his neck and chest. He loved how the boy’s color changed so dramatically, as if he could read his emotions in the pattern of rosiness that took him over. Ballard moves his hands up to his chest, feeling his nipples through his shirt. They were dark and full, visible through the sheer fabric, serving as markers for the broadness of his chest. Lifting up the shirt, he could see them growing harder. He ran his fingers over them, teasing them and tugging them gently. Elder Edwards let out small breaths, barely audible, but enough to indicate his feelings: he liked it. “Very interesting...”