Now, if you asked them, they wouldn't have described their new faith as a "cult." They'd have said it was just another church, albeit the one that they thought was the most "right" amongst all the competing churches. And I'll even admit that the term "cult" is a bit nebulously defined and can be thrown around a bit too readily.
Never-the-less, in the case of my parent's church, the term "cult" really did seem appropriate!
The whole operation was, in my estimate, a cult of personality that centered around the church's pastor, "Pastor Jim." The man was charismatic for sure, but he was also authoritarian and demanding. Over time, he introduced harsher and harsher doctrines, eventually going so far as to insist that everybody who was "serious" about their faith turn over all their earthly belongings and go to live at a commune!
I tried to talk my parents out of doing just that, and even agreed to a meeting with the pastor as a condition for their considering my request. Little did I know that the "meeting" was actually a trap! No sooner had I stepped into the pastor's office than I felt a needle get jabbed into my neck from behind and I fell unconscious!
When I came to, I knew straight away that something was seriously wrong. I woke up back home in my bed, but my body was all wrong! I had been a guy, but I seemed to have somehow transformed into a young woman!
I screamed, and soon my mother was at my side. She explained that Pastor Jim had decided that I was in such danger of damnation that radical measures were necessary. In particular, I was stripped of my manhood and was to be married to one of the church elders, who would be the spiritual head of our new family and help make a proper God-fearing woman out of me, for which only the thought of wearing pants will be sinful!
The funny thing was, I found myself simply accepting my fate vice fighting it. I knew that whatever process had so altered my body had done the same to my mind, and the woman I had become was a compliant and obedient one! I found that I readily accepted the faith of my parents and soon-to-be-husband, as well as my new role in life as a woman, who should wear pantyhose constantly and give birth the babies. In fact, I was almos grateful for what had happened to me. The new me could hardly imagine going back to being the boy I was.
Still there's a part of me that remembers what happened and which realizes that my new thoughts and feelings were forced upon me just like my new body was. I just can't quite bring myself to care. If it's God's will that all that should have been done to me, and I find myself believing that it is, then who am I to second guess the Almighty!
