Therapy To Fix you

Based on "AGP", a story I'd written for My Sliders series, which was based on an idea from "But I'm A Cheerleader".

When Troy Bolton's parents send him to a centre to try and cure him of being gay, he has no idea what events will happen to him.

Those who read my earlier stories know me as a happy gay 22 year old writer. Nothing in this story is any reflection on my thoughts, and is barely an attempt to entertain. I respect the beliefs of those who hold them, and although I don't personally believe in God and all the thoughts and beliefs held over the badness of homosexuality, I'm not about to start bashing people who feel like that. Nor am I meaning any disrespect to anyone who believes in the concept of reparative therapy programs or ex-gays. While I don't agree with them, I like the idea of people who can fall in love at these places.

This story will have characters who are big on Christianity, and may verbally abuse gay or lesbian characters. There may also be parts when people are verbally attacked for their religion. Again, nothing that is said against gay people or religious beliefs is any reflection on me or my thoughts.

I started writing a version of this in 2004, where my stories based on the tv show Sliders had a character who ended up in a place like this, fell in love with someone, and took him with him when they escape and left for another parallel Earth. I was originally planning on writing this in a similar style as that, with Ryan being a 'slider' and ending up in a world where it was illegal to be gay, and those who seemed to be were sent to centres to try and cure them, or they were sent to prison for fourteen months in isolation. He would meet Troy at this place, but this Troy would be different from the Troy he knew. Eventually they'd fall for each other, and they escape to another world. But that idea was too similar to the My Sliders story. So I changed it. Now it has no sci-fi elements. And is just a normal story that I'd like to think could happen in the world.

Cassandra Yates is the only thing taken from the My Sliders story. I felt I created an interesting character and I didn't use her enough in that story, so I'd like to flesh her out more here.

Sorry this introduction has been so long. Just wanted to give you an idea of the thought process behind the story.

"I'm what?"

Troy Bolton stood in disbelief at what his mother just said to him.

"You're gay, Troy."

Troy's mind spun, and he felt sick. He looked at his father, sitting in his chair, his feet up on the table, newspaper in his lap, barely paying attention to the conversation he and his mother just had.

"No I'm not." Troy said, rather too loudly for his father, who just looked over at him, then back to his newspaper.

"It's okay, love. We know it's not your fault."

"But I have a girlfriend. I'm captain of the basketball team. I love girls." He sat himself down onto the couch. "I know I've done a few musicals and stuff at school, but being a singer and dancer doesn't make me gay."

"It's not the musicals we're on about, son. It's the company you keep in the musicals. We know about what happened after your performance last week."

Troy thought back. What had happened that night? He'd took the bow with Gabriella, left, then came back on again a few seconds later and took the bow again, this time with Sharpay and Ryan joining him and Gabriella. They'd left stage, and went back to Darbus' room next to the stage. They'd laughed, talked a bit, got over the high of the performance. Darbus said some things. He'd kissed Gabriella. Then he'd kissed Sharpay. In purely a friendly manner. And Gabriella said something about "doesn't Ryan get one". So he'd given Ryan a quick kiss. Just a friend kissing another friend. He was a friend after all.

Surely that couldn't be what his parents were on about?

"Miss Darbus told us about it. You know, you kissing that Evans boy."

"But that wasn't anything. That was just us joking about."

"Pretty funny way to joke about." His father said, not looking up from his paper.

"I'm not gay." Troy called again. "I know Ryan's gay, but that doesn't mean I am. He's a friend, that's all." He stared his mother in her eyes. "We were so buzzed after the musical, we were just letting off steam. It wasn't as if I'd snogged the face off him or anything, it was just a small touch on the lips."

"But you still kissed a boy. It's not the first time your father and I have been contacted about something like this."

Troy glanced over at his father, hiding in his face in the paper, then turned back to his mother.

"I AM NOT GAY." he shouted and stood up, making a bee-line for the door.

"It's good you're thinking like that honey, it'll make it so much easier at the centre."

Troy stopped and turned around.

"Centre? What you on about?"

His mother stuck her left arm out, her palm pointing out to his father.

"Miss Darbus reccommended, and your father and me have agreed, for you to be put into a reparative therapy program."

Troy looked shocked.

"What's that?"

"You don't have to worry Troy. It's just a place that will help you forget about your homosexual tendencies and desires."

Troy threw his arms up in the air.

"How many times? I'm not..."

She didn't let him finish.

"So you say Troy. But there are so many things pointing out that you are merely concealing the truth."

It was clear she was about to carry on, but his father throwing the paper on the table and standing up stopped her.

"For goodness sake Moira." He stepped in front of Troy. "You're gay, Troy. That's wrong. The Lord will not allow homosexuality in his kingdom. And I will not allow homosexuality in this house." His voice was raising with each word. "You will enter the therapy, and you will return to us a normal heterosexual boy." He started turning away and walking back to his chair. "Get upstairs and get your stuff packed. Your mother is taking you there tomorrow morning."

And thats how Troy Bolton ended up standing outside the Delia Derbyshire Centre with a bag in his hand.

Ms Cassandra Yates sat upright at her desk. Papers to her left, papers to her right. She was the boss of this centre. No, scrub that. She was God of this centre.

Everybody answered to her, everyone done as she said. If she said jump, they asked how high. Nobody every questioned her orders.

They were too scared to.

One word out of place, and she has the authority to fire them and make sure that they never work in a high priced job again.

Even the "guests" were afraid of her.

When she was a child, she was very much the same: everything had to go her way. She once asked her mother for a three scoop chocolate ice-cream cone when they were on holiday. After finding a relatively expensive ice-cream stand, the mother could only get a two scoop cone. Bringing it back to her daughter, the young girl started crying at her for not getting a three scoop cone.

A small thing you might say, but to her, nothing was too small. If a glass of juice wasn't filled to a millimetre below the rim, she would cry. If her food wasn't hot enough, she would cry; if it was too hot, she would cry.

She did this all up to her 13th birthday, where her mother finally snapped, upon being told that the very expensive doll she had bought her was wearing the wrong colour - she had asked for a blue dressed doll, whereas this one was light blue - she packed her bags and left, eventually divorcing her loving husband of seventeen years, and eventually remarrying a hapless schmuck who worked in a fast food restaurant.

Now her father, on the other hand, was against this. He never gave in to her tears, her shouts. He always said no.

Until she turned thirteen.

His wife left him, and he had to bring up a thirteen year old girl on his own. He gave in to her, her tears, her shouts, her cries brought her everything - he had no choice. She was a very arrogant girl.

Until she was sixteen. As soon as her birthday came up, he told her to leave. Pack her bags and get out. He'd had enough.

So she did, and she left, and she got a job working for her Aunt, who just happened to be in charge of what is now known as the Delia Derbyshire Centre. She was promoted through the years, and after twenty-one years with the company, became Ms Cassandra Yates, Manager Grade 1.

Now no one dared questioned her.

She was a devoted Catholic. God's word ruled over anything else. And the biggest of these was sexuality. God forbid same sex couples, and she did everything she could to carry that out to the letter.

Her guests came to her being gay, lesbian, transexual, bisexual, omnisexual, anything, and they left heterosexual.

She never gave up on the sanctity of God's vision.

But to others, she had gone power mad.

But they still obeyed her word.

Except one "inmate" she had - seventeen year old Zack Schofield.

Everything about him was wrong. He never did as he was told, he always argued with the staff, he flaunted himself in front of the others - something that Ms Yates herself expressively forbid.

The patrons of this establishment were not permitted to talk, act, or even think of their "disgusting" homosexual thoughts.

But that was just Ms Yates' statement. None of the staff ever enforced it when she wasn't around. They thought it was bad enough the young adults being sent here in the first place. Not that they'd ever argue that of course.

Ms Cassandra Yates had a horrible secondary solution to the reparative therapy. Should her and her staff fail at the Delia Derbyshire Centre, she would send them onto what she called AGP.

In her head, it stood for Anti Gay Police. And that would mean locking them up, subjecting them to cruel punishments intended to beat the gay out of them.

Of course, the parents sending their kids here never knew about her plans for the AGP. And of course, no one yet had ever been subjected to the horrible ideas in her head.

But one guest had very nearly been.

Young Mr Schofield.

He'd been in this place before, just over a year ago. He'd failed the course, but his parents still welcomed him back with open arms, seemingly not caring anymore that their son was still gay.

But last month he'd been caught kissing his next-door neighbour. And his parents freaked. They sent him back to the Centre, where Ms Yates had worked her magic and gotten Zack to finally convert to the straight life.

Another case closed.

Now she had another lot of cases to close.

And one of those new cases should be arriving now.

She put the new entrant's file back on the top of her filing tray and headed outside to meet him.

"Mrs Bolton, I'm Cassandra Yates."