Nightmares Before Chris' Mass

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, places or events is unintentional.

Content warning: This story explores themes of internalised homophobia and mortality.

Nightmares Before Chris' Mass Chapter III

TUESDAY

HAZING

Dante chuckled as he looked around. The noise and the hum of activity was electric. It took him back to his college days on campus...

He was on campus.

Dante felt a momentary displacement.

Dante was disorientated to time and place. He shouldn't be on campus. He was in hospital. He wasn't eighteen. He wasn't trying to get into a fraternity.

Except he was.

There was a party going on. More than one party. Around him, the guys were recognisable in three main groups. Those dressed in preppy, branded clothing that made them look like Abercrombie and Felch models; those dressed in ridiculous costumes; and those stripped to their underwear.

The guys in expensive, brand name clothing were exactly the kind of men Dante's brother went for; Christos used to love fucking the boys who looked at him like he was the pool boy.

The guys in costumes varied in quality. To name a few: Fred Flintstone, Homer Simpson, Jigsaw, Tarzan, Luke Skywalker and Indiana Jones. Was this a Halloween party?

Wasn't Halloween two months ago?

Wasn't this a hazing party? Which were usually a month before Halloween.

Dante's disorientation to time again made his head spin. None of this made sense.

Then there were the guys in nothing but speedos or tighty whitey's. Some of them had things written on their chest's or backs as they romped around the streets between the various houses. The phrases etched on the skin of the pledges included: CUCK AND GET ME, THE TIGHT END, or HAZED AND CONFUSED.

Dante suddenly felt the wind on his bare skin. His arms and chest were tingling, his back, his legs and his bare ass felt the gently kiss of a breeze. He looked at himself and saw he was wearing nothing but a jockstrap; when Dante looked over his shoulder, he saw his bare ass was exposed with the cheeks framed by the straps of the jock.

Dante's own chest was scrawled with the word PLEDGE on it.

Dante was holding a bottle of beer, so it wasn't all bad. He took a drink, but it didn't taste of anything really. Then there was a smack on his ass that made him dribble beer down his chest. When Dante turned, he was face to face with a grinning white dude with blonde hair, blue eyes and the kind of entitlement that came from a mommy or daddy who paid for everything. Dante had known this boy at college, his name was Colin. His dad was an Evangelical hate preacher and his mom was a high school dropout who was now a congresswoman thanks to her qualifications in white grievance.

"Hey, pledge," Colin said as he slapped a paddle against the palm of his hand.

Colin was wearing a dark blue jumper with a yellow omega symbol on.

Was this the end?

The symbol tugged at Dante's thoughts. It would be the end for him if he didn't...

Dante looked down at his bare legs. Both still there. Good.

"We've thought of some really fun rituals for you guys this year," Colin continued, but his smile turned nasty. "Don't worry, yours won't involve running."

Colin laughed at the joke and Dante felt a stab of pain in his leg that seemed to radiate all the way down to his foot. There was malice in his laugh, a satisfaction at the misfortune of others. Dante remembered Colin was the kind of guy who thought everything from poverty to illness was a moral failing. But trolling kids was fine, obviously.

"Oh good, Chris is here too," Colin said.

Dante turned to see a boy who was only eighteen. His chest was shaved and his swimmers physique was given away by the fact he was wearing blue speedos. Dante's gaze was pulled for a moment by the sense of being watched. When he looked to his right, Dante saw a thin man with black hair and dark eyes; he looked like a Mormon in his black trousers and tie with a white shirt. The man's face was smiling a sinister, oily grin that spread too far to be real.

Chris, whoever he was, was looking at Dante with recognition.

"Can you..." Chris said. "Can you wake up?"

Dante turned back to look at him.

"What?" Dante asked irritably.

"I recognise you," Chris said.

"I think he might be hitting on you," Colin laughed.

The music in the background was constant but indistinct. The people moving around them were like extras on a film set, never really getting near enough to be interactive with the main event. That's what it felt like.

It felt like Colin, Dante and Chris were in a spotlight and in the dim light outside the circle, activity continued to populate the scenario without being particularly meaningful. Dante knew where the spotlight was coming from too. He could practically feel the heat of the light from the man in the black tie.

"I'm not hitting on you," Chris said defensively.

"I wouldn't care if you were, dude," Dante replied. "Guys, women, neither, both, in between. Whatever floats your fucking boat."

Chris seemed surprised. Dante was smoking hot and cool and straight... was he straight? Chris had been raised in an accepting and openminded family, so the real surprise was why he was so socially conservative and homophobic.

Chris's internalised homophobia was his own making.

Dante felt a smack on his bare ass again. The fleshy sound was heard by others around the street who stood to watch as Colin spanked Dante again.

"Would you cut that out?" Dante replied.

"You're welcome to leave any time, Dante," Colin sneered.

Dante couldn't leave though. He tried to take a single step and his leg gave way. Chris caught him.

The two nearly naked young men were in each other's arms now. Dante looked into Chris's eyes and suddenly felt a sense of recognition.

"I recognise you too," Dante said.

Colin made a pithy remark that was crass and not worth registering.

"I'm Dante, by the way. Didn't you... didn't I..." Dante was struggling to make sense of the memory.

It had been a few nights ago. Dante's cock had grown to the size of a waterslide and Chris had been sucked inside it. Which was weird. Dante recalled the sensation of something firm sliding into his shaft. His cock had been sounded with a live human and after Dante's urethra had been explored by Chris, he had felt something new. His balls had felt like they were being massaged from the inside; Dante had felt Chris rolling and roiling inside the vat of sperm that filled his testicles.

What the fuck was going on with his dreams?!

Dante stood back on his own two feet, slipping from Chris' strong embrace. Chris had enjoyed the touch of Dante's skin. It had been cool due to the night air, but warm too from the heat of Dante's body. The skin had been soft even with downy hairs on his arms. Chris could hardly believe such a handsome man existed.

Chris felt a sense of urgency. As with Jack, Chris instinctively knew he was interacting with a real person. Dante wasn't just part of another nightmare scenario inside Mr Summer's hypnoscape. And if Dante was a real person, he might be able to help.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but you're dreaming," Chris said. "We're dreaming."

"We're dreaming?" Dante repeated.

"I'm hungry," Colin said in a voice that was not his own.

Dante expected Chris to look at Colin, who had offered the no sequitur, but Chris looked over at the sinister man.

"We don't have much time. He's getting bored. He'll want you... or us... to feed him," Chris said fretfully.

"Feed?" Dante repeated. "I've heard that before."

"Was it in another recent, sexually explicit dream by any chance?" Chris asked.

"Might have been," Dante answered guardedly.

"We are trapped, Dante. Well, I'm trapped. In nightmares controlled by a man called Fredrick Summer..." Chris rushed to explain.

Chris felt a smack on his ass.

Chris looked to see Colin standing behind him now. Except Colin was still standing behind Dante. Both Colins raised their paddles and whacked Dante and Chris on the ass. Technically, both Chris and Dante could leave any time, but they were both entrapped by their respective fears.

"Stop it, Chris," the Colins warned.

"My friends and I were trapped by Mr Summer at Halloween. They escaped, but I didn't," Chris hurried to explain.

"Halloween was nearly two months ago," Dante said.

A crestfallen look crossed Chris' skin. Had it been that long? Had he been trapped in these nightmare scenarios for two months? If two months of a succession of humiliation and degradation hadn't convinced Chris to face his fear, then he'd never be able to face it. Chris felt more trapped than ever.

"That doesn't matter," Chris replied. "What matters is, can you wake up?"

"Can I wake up?" Dante repeated as if it was a stupid question.

Dante was getting grumpy.

"I met a guy who is trapped in these nightmares. His name is Jack, but he literally can't wake up. I need someone to tell my friends I'm here and they can save me..." Chris said. "Us. They can figure out how to get us all out of these nightmares."

"Ok, time for the punishment, pledges," the Colins said.

"Punishment?" Dante questioned.

"Chris was told to stop. Pledges have to follow orders," the Colins said before turning their attention on another character. "You there! Take off your boxers."

The Colins synchronicity was eerie. It was like something out of a horror movie. So was the sinister man who stood at the side watching everything with invisible threads making him a puppeteer in the theatre of nightmares.

THEATRE OF NIGHTMARES

The Colins had addressed the stripping instruction to a skinny boy with black glasses, pale skin and baggy boxer shorts. Without hesitation, the boy pushed the boxers down to his ankles and exposed his dick to everyone in the street. There was a roar of laughter and pointing.

"Take off your jock," the Colins said – each to a different nearly naked pledge.

Both stopped, hooked thumbs into their jocks and slipped them down.

One exposed a trimmed groin with a six inch dangly dick between his legs.

The other exposed a hairy bush of pubes with a dick so small it struggled to be seen in the melee of wiry hairs.

There was more pointing and giggling and lewd comments, even though Dante couldn't pick out the words of the heckling. Dante was horrified by the pleasure he felt. Well, not that he felt exactly. Dante could feel the pleasure, satisfaction and excitement of someone else; it was disturbing to feel the delight of someone enjoying ritualistic humiliation.

"Strip naked!" the Colins ordered a group of four guys who were dressed as the Beatles.

The four young men seemed unfazed by the order. They stripped off their jackets and flared trousers, ties and shirts... divesting themselves of all clothing, all dignity and all self-determination. Again Dante felt something like pleasure. It was emanating from the silent, sinister figure. Mr Summer, he assumed... that is, if Dante believed Chris's story.

Mr Summer seemed happy to be in control of young men. Making them do things. Stripping. Once the four friends were naked, they stood facing Colin, Colin, Chris and Dante. They had nice dicks, legs and chests.

"Kiss each other," the Colins said. "Touch each other."

"You made your point," Dante said.

His interruption was unwelcome and the Colins snapped their focus from the population of extras to the meal of the dream: Dante and Chris.

"You said a punishment because Chris didn't stop, but I didn't disobey. Am I free to go?" Dante asked selfishly.

Would he really leave Chris here to this fate?

Yea, probably. It wasn't his problem.

"Stand on your left foot," Colin said to Dante.

Dante's face looked like it had been slapped. That wasn't fair. He couldn't. He literally couldn't.

"No," Dante said.

"Disobedience," the Colins said.

It was creepy.

"Ok, time for the punishment, pledges," both Colins spoke in unison.

"Dante, when this is over, when you wake up..." Chris said. "I need you to find Henry Ng. Tell him that Chris Mason is still stuck in the nightmares."

"I'm not a fucking errand boy," Dante snapped. "What has this got to do with me? You and your friends were trapped, but why am I here? Why are we sharing dreams? Why is this dude Jack in your nightmares too?"

"I don't know, do I?" Chris replied hotly. "I'm not an expert in fucking shared hypnotic humiliation."

"Shared hypnotic humiliation," the Colins parroted. "Could be the title of your autobiography."

The attention of everyone in the street – dressed and naked – had turned to Dante and Chris. It was like one man was looking through two hundred eyes.

"Strip," the Colins ordered.

Dante and Chris found themselves obeying; whether against their will or steered by the nightmare or compelled by a feeling that compliance would end the scenario, even they weren't sure. Dante removed his jockstrap, not even noticing that he was able to move from leg to leg without pain as he slipped the item from his feet. Chris pushed his speedos down and stood naked in the spotlight of the night.

No matter how many nightmares he'd endured, Chris still felt shame when he was exposed. He still felt the fear of mockery and terror at the idea people would know his secret. Worse still, he felt ashamed of his shame; Chris was embarrassed by his own internalised homophobia. Deep down, he knew he would probably be accepted, but what do you do when it is yourself you can't accept?

"Gather around everyone," the Colins shouted to the crowd.

The crowd were now a shifting mass of frat boys, costumed lads, naked or semi-naked young men and silhouettes of indistinct figures. Chris looked through the throng for Mr Summer, who was usually never too far away. Fredrick Summer seemed to flicker around the edge of the crowd as if he were an all seeing spectre capable of being anywhere at any time.

"Turn around for us, boys," the Colins said together. "Let everyone see you."

Chris obeyed, but Dante scowled until he felt the pain in his leg increase. He could feel it was an incentive, or a coercion, for him to comply. Grudgingly, Dante turned on the spot. The interest in his naked body was intense, but Dante liked it. Since high school, Dante had been used to attention. On the football field all through high school and then through college, there was always interest in Dante Torres-Guzman. He was a local celebrity. Dante took selfies with guys and girls after a game. Occasionally, he had been recognised when he was out and about or on the beach. The relentless attention of the crowd was not unlike the visibility he felt when he was recognised in...

Reality.

Dante had a breakthrough that he was dreaming. It wasn't that he didn't know. It was more that dreams masqueraded as real and sedated his concentration. Being naked in the street felt real whether it was a dream or reality.

"Ok pledges, bend over and put your hands on your knees," one Colin demanded.

"Why?" Chis asked.

"No thanks," Dante said.

"Because if you don't, you won't get into the fraternity. It could really hurt your futures," the same Colin said.

"Yea. Without the fraternity's protection, who knows what people will say about you Chris," the other Colin said. "And Dante, without us... you won't make the team. Without the team, no health insurance..."

Chris and Dante were struck by their respective anxieties. The nightmare exploited their vulnerabilities. So, they bent over as instructed. As soon as they had, they felt swatted on the ass. The slap on their cheeks with the wooden paddles was hard and fleshy, prompting cheers from the spectators. They were slapped again and the crowd started to count.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!"

Chris and Dante's butt cheeks were red and hot. The warmth spread down their legs, their stinging buttocks heating their thighs. During the reprieve after the tenth strike, Chris continued to feel the paddle against his ass, the wide wedge of the bat was being pushed between his cheeks.

Chris looked over his shoulder to see Colin smirking as he prodded Chris' hole with a bat that couldn't possibly fit in his hole. And yet, it continued to penetrate his cheeks.

"Let's make them spank each other," one Colin suggested.

The synchronicity between the Colins had been eerie but sudden the separation was also unsettling. No longer were they one mind, but now two dedicated to debasing the pair with competitive ideas rather than harmonious ones.

"Dante, spank this fucker," the second Colin said.

Dante straightened up and was glad his hairy ass wasn't getting slapped anymore. He didn't remember anything like this at his hazing nights. Dante's penis was thick and long as he stood beside Chris. He recalled his previous dream with Chris – his cock becoming so engorged that the swimmer himself had become a sounding rod.

Chris couldn't stop himself looking at the schlong. He wished he could rub it in his face, sniff it, lick it...

Chris felt his ass sting like a flash of lightning with the clap of thunder following a second later. Chris yelped and the Colins led the laughter at his expense. There followed more smacks from Dante's hand, with Dante putting just enough energy into it to avoid being told to be harder.

Speaking of harder.

Chris was sporting a boner. Any hope of this going unnoticed were dashed as soon as Chris thought it. It was as if Mr Summer could tell what Chris was thinking.

"Oh my god! Chris got a fucking boner!" the second Colin said.

"Does he? Gross," the first Colin added.

"You got hard from being spanked by a man?" the second Chris asked in a disgusted tone.

"I didn't mean to," Chris whined.

He wanted to stand up straight but if he did, his erection would be even more obvious. At least bent over, it was partially hidden. Chris felt a new hand on his ass and looked back to see the second Colin squeezing his buttocks. His fingers curved into the crack.

A second later, Colin's finger tips were resting in the deep, moist cleft. Chris felt the Colin pressing a finger against the ring and he pushed back just a little so the finger started to slip inside.

"Push my finger into your hole, Chris. That's it..." the Colin said.

Dante had stepped back to make room for Colin. As Chris humped his ass against the second Colin's finger, sliding it in and out of his hole, the other Colin did not want to be outdone.

"Dante, your leg needs a rest. Get on your knees and suck this dick," the first Colin ordered.

Now this was more like his hazing nights.

The reminder of his leg was punctuated by a spike of pain that only subsided when he started to move. Dante stepped in front of Chris and dropped to his knees, then the pain vanished as a reward. Dante leaned in and grabbed Chris' cock. He looked up into Chris's eyes; with Chris bent over, Chris' chest loomed over Dante like a shelter. Dante leaned in and moistened the head with his tongue, lubricated the leaking cock with his lips and then swallowing the shaft.

While Chris continued to facilitate his own fingering, Dante sucked Chris's cock. Around them, the night was too still and quiet to be real. It was like a movie soundtrack where the background music had been turned down while the dialogue took precedence. Or, in this case, the sound of fellatio. Dante wouldn't describe himself as gay and he was far from being a cocksucker, but he had sucked cock before.

Chris was already getting so hot and bothered that his legs were shaking. The Colin put his hand on Chris's back and began to finger him with two fingers instead of one. His fingers screwed into Chris's hole with power and precision; it found the chestnut sized sweet spot and tapped it excessively.

Chris blasted his load into Dante's mouth without warning.

"Fuck, man!" Dante spat.

Dante pulled back with jizz spilling from his mouth. The spunk dribbled onto his chin as he spat it onto the street beside him. Unfortunately, the first blast that had flooded Dante's mouth was far from the last. No longer confined to Dante's mouth, Chris' cock spattered cum on Dante's chest.

Chris's cum kept pumping, unleashing a torrent of mess all over Dante. Dante's experience with same sex kink had never extended to bukkake, and certainly not the firehose like deluge spraying from the closet case.

Chris had forgotten Mr Summer's penchant for excessive spunk. Like Mr Summer's desire to be fed, it seemed less important since Chris had become trapped. The man was simply entertaining himself now, looking through the eyes of Colin and Colin.

The first Colin laughed at Chris's easy orgasm and Dante's unfortunate soaking.

The second Colin pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the small of Chris' back.

"I think that went really well, pledges," the first Colin decided.

"I think everyone enjoyed that," the other Colin agreed sardonically.

Chris and Dante looked around at the leering faces.

Gone were the preppy boys and the costumed characters and the pledges; the young men who had been stripped naked were also gone.

They had all transformed into Colin. The Colins were in varying degrees of undress.

Dante was horrified by the arrogant faces mocking him.

"Unfortunately, Omega isn't accepting any new pledges," the pair of Colins said.

"What? Then what was the point of all this?" Dante asked angrily as he wiped cum from his chest and shook his hand to flick Chris's cum off.

They laughed at him. It was cruel and derisive laughter that cackled into the night.

"The nightmares are just like that," Chris said.

Chris had straightened up and was looking down at the kneeling young man with sympathy.

"I don't believe this shit," Dante said as he stood up. "I'm probably having nightmares from all my pain meds."

"Pain meds? Wait, are you in hospital?" Chris asked. "Jack's dying. He must be in hospital too. That must be the connection. That's why we're in each other's nightmares"

"Do you hear yourself?" Dante said irritably. "In each other's nightmares? It's ridiculous."

"How do you explain what's happening. The things I've told you?" Chris tried to persuade him.

"I'm dreaming and your part of the dream," Dante argued. "You are a figment of my imagination."

"No. Dante, no. I need your help," Chris said desperately.

"Fuck off," Dante said angrily. "I have my own shit to deal with. Even if you were real... your problem is not my problem."

Dante started to leave but he limped and Chris remembered the multiple times Colin had made a comment about Dante's leg.

"What's wrong with your leg?" Chris shouted at Dante's back. "If that's your fear, all you need to do is admit it. Face it and..."

Dante whirled around with a furious expression.

"Don't fucking tell me what I have to do. Even if I could help you... I wouldn't," Dante said spitefully. "Find someone else to tell your friend your stuck here."

Dante limped away, leaving Chris hurt and shaken by Dante's hostility. He had clearly touched a nerve. Chris's eyes followed Dante as he passed the rows of frat houses, soon to be lost in the crowd. The houses were adorned with Greek symbols, some with banners or decorations; one house had a red door, the red so dark it looked like it was dying and the olive green panels added to broken, striped appearance.

Chris had been tactless and clumsy in his approach to beseeching Dante. Jack couldn't help him and Dante wouldn't help him. Now what?

Chris thought back to the dream from a few nights ago.

The monstrous cock.

The human sounding.

The three other men.

Jack.

Dante.

Maybe there was one more man who could help him?

LOGAN'S FUN

"You know why you're here, don't you Logan?"

Logan did not.

He didn't actually know where here was.

The question had set the scene, but Logan didn't remember anything before it. He was in an office and there was a thin man behind the desk. He was dressed like a Mormon or one of the Blues Brothers, maybe.

"What was the question again?" Logan asked.

Logan had been at work. He'd been doing a night shift, but now it was the middle of the day and he was at college. Logan didn't recognise the man in front of him, but the plaque on his desk said: FREDRICK SUMMER.

"This isn't good enough, Logan," the man said disappointedly. "I'm afraid I've got no choice but to recommend you are removed from the course."

Logan's initial reaction was relief. He'd been having second thoughts about medicine since before he started pre-med and only committed because he didn't want to disappoint his dad. However, relief was replaced by panic. His dad would be bitterly disappointed in him. Logan had to do something.

"No, wait!" Logan pleaded. "You can't."

"I can. I assure you, I can," Mr Summer said in a slimy voice.

Logan didn't know how to react. What could he say or do to change the man's mind?

"Maybe we could come to an agreement?" Mr Summer proposed.

Logan didn't even know why he was in the office or why he was being thrown off the course; it didn't even occur to him to ask. However, when he looked at the man behind the desk, he looked familiar. He looked familiar in the way you can meet someone in the store every week and nod or smile, but perhaps not say hello or anything so personal.

Logan recognised this man.

Logan had seen him before.

"An agreement? Like what?" Logan asked.

"You modelled for Professor Yale. Do you remember?" Mr Summer asked.

Logan did remember. Of course he remembered. When was it? A few days ago? Time was a funny thing. Logan thought it was only days.

Of course, that was where Logan had seen this sinister man before. Though, he was also pretty handsome, but that wasn't relevant. Mr Summer had been there in the crowd when Logan had the nightmare about modelling. Was Logan dreaming now? Familiar faces appearing and reappearing in dreams wasn't unusual, but this man felt unusual.

It felt like Logan's dream wasn't his dream. His nightmare was being controlled, written, shaped...

"How could I forget?" Logan replied.

Logan had been used as a model for an anatomy lesson. He had been totally exposed to a lecture hall full of students while he was intimately examined.

"Model for me," Mr Summer said.

"Just for you?" Logan replied. "Isn't that a bit..."

Logan didn't want to say perverted.

"I am studying compliance and social anxiety within an authority-subordinate dynamic," Mr Summer replied coherently.

Made sense.

Wait, did it?

"It's your choice, Logan," Mr Summer added.

Logan couldn't embarrass himself by getting thrown off the pre-med course. Choosing to leave would be one thing, but he'd never forgive himself for failing and disappointing his dad. Had Logan been thinking logically, he would have asked more questions and would have seen through the nonsense of the scenario.

Of course, dreams were odd at the best of times. With Mr Summer's influence, they were even more peculiar, not to mention a good deal more sexual. Mr Summer's curse on the sons of the five who had betrayed him was a curse on him too. In a way, Mr Summer was trapped too. He had nearly been destroyed at Halloween when Henry, Andrew, Leroy and Quinn had faced their fears and repaid a seminal debt.

Luckly, Chris was a spineless, closeted coward. Even now, two months later, trapped in nightmare after nightmare, Chris would not simply admit he was a faggot. Mr Summer had free reign to design new nightmares, and to his delight he had three more handsome young men to play with.

Not as young as he would have liked.

Mr Summer didn't know how or why Dante, Jack or Logan had been folded into the dreams, but he did know that he was having fun preying on their fears. Like Logan and his doubts about being a doctor; his fear of failure or dropping out or being honest with his father.

This fear was why Logan was in college in his nightmares.

This fear was why the boy was going to do anything to avoid being kicked off the course he didn't what to do.

This fear was why Logan was going to model for him.

"Take off your clothes, Logan. Everything," Mr Summer said. "Take off everything or you'll be thrown out of college."

He so rarely got to be more or less himself.

Mr Summer was enjoying it enormously.

Mr Summer was in his element; he didn't need to touch, in fact he seldom did, he just needed to watch and enjoy boys degrading themselves.

"If I take my clothes off... you'll let me stay in the pre-med course?" Logan asked.

"Of course. If you help me with my compliance and social anxiety study, I won't drop you from the course," Mr Summer assured the young man.

Logan was wearing denim shorts, which he unbuttoned and unzipped before pushing them down to his ankles and flicking his feet out of them. Standing in a shirt and underwear was mildly embarrassing. There was something about the confines of the office; with his shirt barely covering his undies and his bare legs on show that made Logan feel childish. Logan unbuttoned his shirt, but only the first few buttons. Then Logan pulled it up and over his head, dropping it on the floor. Logan had a swimmer's physique that had slipped since he left high school, but he still looked good. His skin was tanned, his hair was medium length and his eyes were blue. His chest and legs were stubbly and in need of a shave, but his pubes were short rather than shaved and his penis was three inches and flaccid and covered by black briefs.

Logan pushed his briefs down his legs to expose his genitals.

Logan was conflicted. He didn't mind being naked in the locker room, around other guys getting showered or changed, but in the intimate space of an academic office? Being naked in a college office lined with books was unsettling and weird. The nudity hadn't changed, but the context made Logan feel exposed and embarrassed.

Across from Logan, Fredrick Summer looked the young man up and down... Logan's neckline and the curve of his shoulder; his pecs with soft nipples; the inguinal line and his cute, limp prick; and his feathery legs. He was handsome and he was pretty.

"Now what?" Logan asked.

"Well, you are clearly able to comply with instructions from an authority figure," Mr Summer replied. "How about we test social anxiety?"

"You want me to try public speaking?" Logan asked facetiously.

Mr Summer chuckled. When he was a high school coach, back when he was alive, he always enjoyed the cheeky and charming comebacks from the boys. Mr Summer also enjoyed watching them cum on backs, but that was a separate thing.

Logan really was quite beautiful. The young man reminded Mr Summer of Chris' dad. The first time Mr Summer had told that boy to strip had been in the intimacy of his office after a game. The boy had been a sweaty, naïve ninth grade kid who was eager to please and scared of being kicked off the team. Sebastian Booth had covered his shrunken junk after dropping his jock, then Mr Summer had told Seb to put his hands behind his back. The teenager had shyly obeyed and blushed as he exposed his small (but not tiny) dick. Mr Summer had sat back in his chair and said nothing, just looked, with the silence stretching out until Seb couldn't stand it anymore.

"Now what?" the boy had asked.

"Get dressed," Coach Summer had responded.

Fuck, they didn't even have iPhones back then. What Mr Summer would have given for that kind of technology – the memories he could have stored, the blackmail and coercion he could have managed and the humiliations he could have visited on the boys.

"You can go now," Mr Summer replied to Logan.

Logan looked surprised.

He had been certain that the sinister man was going to do more than just look.

"Go?" Logan repeated.

This was one of the fun things about being able to manipulate dreams. Mr Summer could make it whatever he wanted. When he had pitted his wits against Henry, Andrew, Leroy and Quinn, Mr Summer had exploited their weaknesses and fears to build narratives that fed him; he enjoyed their anguish.

Then they freed themselves.

Chris was still trapped though, and Chris' fear was like a fine wine that got better with age. Mr Summer fed Chris's paranoia as well as exposing and teasing him.

Then the others came.

One by one.

Jack.

Dante.

Logan.

Mr Summer didn't know these three or why they had joined the theatre of nightmares, but they were a fun new dynamic with some delicious anxieties. Logan feared failing pre-med, dropping out, disappointing his father... Logan was a young man used to obedience. Logan was studying medicine because his father told him to. Now, in the world of dreams, he would do what Mr Summer told him to.

"I want you to leave my office," Mr Summer said.

He could have made the boy masturbate and that would have been fun. Nineteen year olds jerking off is always fun. However, subverting that expectation and keeping Logan guessing as to the nature of these nightmares was also fun. Mr Summer wanted to whet his appetite.

Mr Summer's biggest frustration was that his powers had diminished since the other four escaped. He could no longer influence reality to make his quarry wake up hard or naked in public or covered in cum. Mr Summer could still drive the direction of dreams though and he could still emotionally manipulate the dreamers.

Dreams were better than reality. In reality, Logan would not do what he was about to do. In the nightmare, Mr Summer could will him into action.

"Compliance, social anxiety, authority, subordination..." Mr Summer reiterated the components of his fictional study. "Do as I say, Logan. Leave my office."

Logan very nearly made a move to get dressed, but the penny dropped about what Mr Summer really wanted. He wanted to humiliate Loagan by making him walk out naked.

"Like this?" Logan asked fearfully.

"If you put any clothes on or cover up at any time, you will be off the pre-med course," Mr Summer needled away at Logan's fear. "Now get out."

LOGAN'S RUN

Logan didn't know where he was going or why this was happening.

He walked to the office door and pulled it open. As he stepped into the hall, he nearly collided with a student who scowled and then looked at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"Sorry," Logan muttered as he hurried in the opposite direction that the student was headed.

Unfortunately, this took Logan to the main stairwell of the admin building.

Logan heard voices from above.

"Is that guy naked?"

Logan went down. The stairs.

The only thing he was wearing were sneakers on his feet. Logan didn't even have any socks on. His dick jiggled as he went down the stairs and his balls swung from left to right. The furry sac slapped against his inner thighs. Logan's plans to avoid the students coming down did nothing to help him avoid students coming up. They gasped and stood aside.

"Is that guy naked?"

Logan squeezed past them, too embarrassed to say anything.

At the bottom of the stairs, student were loitering and they saw him too.

"Is that guy naked?"

Their faces were indistinct. They were just there. Looking. Watching. Smiling. Laughing. Recording him. When had that started, Logan wondered. When had they started filming him. They didn't have iPhones in Mr Summer's day, but in the dream they served to enhance and propagate Logan's humiliation.

Logan didn't even know where he was going.

Mr Summer had told him to leave the office, but to go where?

He wasn't going anywhere.

Logan tried to escape the attention of the students in the hall and on the stairs by walking into the main concourse. It was well lit with floor to ceiling windows and students and lecturers everywhere.

"Is that guy naked?"

"Is that guy naked?"

"Is that guy naked?"

Logan couldn't cover up.

He walked on, exposing his ass and his genitals to more and more people as he went. He was moving towards the main entrance.

"Wait! I know you. Your name is Logan Willis."

Logan looked straight into the camera of the boy who had recognised him. He looked vaguely familiar from one of the pre-med lectures. Was his name Paul?

"Is Logan Willis naked?"

Logan looked over his shoulder at the throng of students and teachers looking at his ass.

"Logan Willis isn't naked."

The voice was disembodied. Like... like the voice of a deity coming from the sky and making proclamations.

"Logan Willis still has sneakers on."

"Is Logan Willis naked except for sneakers?"

"I'm putting a poll on Twitter. Is Logan Willis naked even though he has sneakers on?" Paul said aloud.

Oh god! Logan's nudes were going to be online.

And everyone around campus could see his dick.

Why was he doing this?

Logan tried to escape by walking to the front doors and out into the sunshine. It was a glorious summers day in December – the sun was high and warm and courtyard was busy with people having lunch.

"I wasn't getting many responses so I shared your pictures on Snap, Insta, Threads, Lies Social, Facebook, WhatsApp, Tinder, Grindr, Discord, Reddit, Telegram..." Paul listed in one breath.

Paul was aiming his phone at Logan and recording the increasing spectacle as he walked around campus in nothing but sneakers.

Logan walked along the path to Red Hall and then over to the Music building, passing Social Science's enroute. Going north, Logan exposed himself to the Art and Imaging building and the Library too.

"Bad news, Logan. You're not naked if you're wearing sneakers. Everyone online agrees," Paul disclosed.

Logan was being followed by not only Paul, who was recording every moment, but hundreds of students. The farther along the campus he walked, the more people joined in on witnessing his humiliation.

"You could get thrown out of the college..." Paul suggested.

Mr Summer's voice came back to him like the voice from the ether.

"Take off everything or you'll be thrown out of college."

Everything.

His sneakers too.

Logan obeyed and was now barefoot on the warm path that led up to the Student Centre.

Logan began walking again.

There was a campus square between the Student Centre, Crusher Hall, House Hall and the Gym. In the gap between the buildings, the roads around campus were busy and in the distance, the car parks overlooked the square. The stadium was alive with hoots and cheers that could be heard even from the campus square.

"Hey dude, you're the halftime show. I'm streaming the action to the stadium," Paul said.

Logan gasped at the thought of being exposed even more. Nudes online was one thing – the internet was a big place. However, his naked body being transmitted to the entire college? How would he ever live this down? Logan's life would be ruined.

Even as these thoughts swirled around his head, Logan felt a stirring in his groin. Hundreds of students were around him. They were gleefully looking at his ass, his dick and his balls. A few were looking at his feet, but whatever turns you on. Logan shouldn't have gotten hard. This wasn't the kind of thing that excited him. Still, Logan felt like his balls were being massaged, his ass was being groped, his cock was being stroked.

As if by an invisible hand, Logan was hard.

"Oh my god, Logan Willis got a boner."

"Logan Willis is hard."

Logan couldn't cover up. It was as if he had been hypnotised by Mr Summer's final warning. The smiles, the laughing, the phones, the cheers from the stadium that were so loud Logan could hear every one of the 6,000 spectators.

"It would be rude to interrupt," said Jack.

Logan looked over and thought the young man who had just spoken looked vaguely familiar.

"This is important," Chris replied.

Logan thought the boy who had responded looked familiar too.

"Logan Willis is dribbling on his feet."

Logan looked down to see a stream of precum from the tip of his cock to his feet. The silvery, sticky goo was glistening in the sunshine. Summer in December was the least of the things that didn't make sense about all this.

"Can we talk?" Chris shouted to Logan from a few paces away.

Chris and Jack were in the front of the crowd that was now surrounding Logan, kettling him with the aiming of devices that were recording his hand-free masturbation.

"Who are you?" Logan asked.

"Logan. There's about half a million retweets already," Paul said. "Everyone agrees wearing trainers wasn't naked."

Chris and Logan looked at Paul who seemed unaware of haven spoken or of the attention from the pair. Paul wasn't real – just a figure populating the dream. Chris was used to them – they were a tool used by Mr Summer to drive scenarios. Watching one in action in a dream that was not his own made Chris realise how weird they were.

Paul was cute though.

Chris wished Paul would take his shirt off.

Chris was also glad this wasn't his dream or Mr Summer's mind reading like ability would already have pounced on him. When Paul did take his shirt off, Logan and Jack looked surprised. No-one was more surprised than Chris. Had Paul reacted because of Chris's thoughts? Could Chris steer the dreams just like Mr Summer could? Who knew he could influence the dreams like this? Paul pulled his shirt off like a Diet Coke model, except Chris very much wanted to make him his slave.

"Right. Anyway," said Jack.

Jack was smiling. He hadn't felt like this for a long time; the naked young man, the topless young man, the sunshine...

Logan was still hard and his cock was throbbing. Where the masturbatory feelings were coming for was no longer clear – Mr Summer, Logan himself, Chris or Jack? Logan felt like a slipper, lubed up hand was stroking his cock. The hand was stroking up and down the length of his shaft, polishing the head and...

"Oh god, I think I'm gonna a cum," Logan said.

Chris and Jack joined the congregation of imagination to watch Logan spurting cum onto the grass in the quad. Chris wasn't sure what his seed would grow. Logan's cock pumped ten large volleys of thick, creamy, delicious cum.

The spurts fired from his rock hard cock, with the audience watching with awe and laughing at the public showing of such an intimate display. When Logan's eyes lifted, he remembered that not only his nakedness, but also his orgasm had just been recorded by hundreds of students and broadcast to the stadium, all over campus and all over the internet. Even if he got to stay on the pre-med course, would Logan ever be respected or accepted?

"Logan Willis just blew his load."

"Logan Willis just blew his load."

Naked and dribbling cum, Logan wiped his sweaty brow, which exposed his armpit and made his bicep pop. He was a very sexy young man.

Unceremoniously interrupting the post-orgasmic moment, Chris rushed towards the naked boy. Chris could actually smell the spunk, which made his own dick stiffen a little.

"My name's Chris," Chris said. "This is Jack."

"I'm just here for moral support," Jack admitted.

Jack couldn't remember when he and Chris had met in Logan's dream. They had both been drawn in, joined and reunited in Logan's hypnotic scenario. Jack was finding it hard to keep track of things; it was like that in dreams, but for Jack it was like that in reality too.

His time was running out.

"Logan Willis just blew his load."

Echoes of the non-people Mr Summer used to humiliate his victims lingered while the crowd began to dissipate like fog.

"Logan, that was great," Paul enthused.

"Yea, wonderful. I hate to interrupt," Chris said in the tone of an arrogant young man who didn't mean what he said.

"Couldn't have given it a minute?" muttered Jack.

Jack let Chris do the talking while he did the shameless checking out of the handsome, beautiful, shaved, stud of a nineteen year old. Jack loved his husband, but fucking hell Logan put on one hell of a free show.

"Do you know you're dreaming?" Chris asked Logan.

Chris was close enough to Logan to see the stubble on his skin and the beads of sweat and the blobs of cum. Logan was a seriously sexy young man. Chris flushed with embarrassment just looking at him.

"Dreaming?" Logan repeated.

"A nightmare. It doesn't matter. Now you know, you'll be able to figure it out," Chris said.

"Chris needs your help, sweetie," Jack said.

"My help?" Logan responded and realised he kept repeating things. "Look, what are you guys talking about?"

Logan groaned with frustration, but when he looked around, the crowd had dissipated. Vanished even. The illogic was disorientating.

"I'm naked. I'm in public. This is a dream?" Logan said. "If I'm dreaming and you're in my dream, then are you just a part of my dream?"

"No," Chris said shortly.

"We're real too. But we're stuck," Jack said gently.

"My friends can help... I hope..." Chris said.

"We're all in the same dream?" Logan asked slowly because it felt right somehow.

They pair did look familiar. Something about a giant cock swallowing Chris.

Wait!

No, that's not where Logan recognised Jack from.

Logan had taken blood from Jack. He was the terminally ill young man with a doting husband.

"Logan, listen to me," Chris said called his attention. "Months ago, my friends and I were trapped by a dead coach who abused out dads and cursed them..."

"Do you hear yourself?" Jack passed remark.

"My friends got out, but I didn't. You need to tell them I'm still dreaming," Chris ignored Jack's interjection. "And we need to figure out how you and Jack..."

"And Dante," Jack interjected.

"He's a jerk," Chris said.

"And Dante," Jack repeated.

Chris wished he'd never told Jack about Dante's refusal to help.

"Fine. And a dude called Dante," Chris grudgingly agreed. "We need to figure out how you three got trapped by Mr Summer."

"And Mr Summer is?" Logan asked reasonably.

"The magical dead coach who likes abusing boys, humiliating people and cursing us," Chris told him as if it was obvious.

"Duh!" Jack said sarcastically.

"My friends..." Chris ignored him. "Henry Ng or Quinn Mason. They can help."

"Right. Ok..." Logan said worriedly. "Maybe I should write this down?"

WEDNESDAY

THE NIGHTMARES CONTINUE

"Logan!"

Logan felt himself being shaken awake and he roused in an uncomfortable chair padded with pillows.

"Break ended five minutes ago," said a resident who was trying to be annoyed.

Greg was a nice guy who looked out for Logan, gave him interesting jobs and, more than once, had asked him if medicine was what he really wanted to do.

"Shit! Sorry. Fell asleep," Logan said as he extracted himself from the chair.

"It's quiet. Don't worry about it," Greg replied amiably. Then more seriously, he added; "But also hurry up."

Logan smiled shyly because Greg flirted with him and winked as he left the room. Logan was left with a hangover from the dream. He could remember masturbating in public and the videos, the threat of it spreading on social media... then? Then the two guys who seemed familiar. They said they were trapped in the dream world, but that's crazy.

The unsettling thing was, Chris had given him a name. Henry Ng. Logan had met a nurse called Siti Ng so he wondered if a little detail had been lodged in his subconscious. It had to be more than that. The dream, the nightmare, felt real. It felt different.

Logan went back to work, but he was distracted for the rest of the night.

"You know a nurse in Intensive Care? Siti?" Logan asked Greg near the end of the night shift.

"Yea. She's a brilliant nurse. Saved my ass on night shift once," he admitted. "Bit old for you, isn't she?"

Logan laughed – he knew he was being teased.

"Bit too female for me," Logan answered. "She mentioned something about her kid. What's his name again?"

"Henry. He's a senior at West Raven High. Bit young for you, isn't he?" Greg teased. "Are you asking because of his friend?"

"His friend?" Logan asked with a sense of unease.

"Father Booth's kid? Chris? Coma patient on the fourth floor? Siti looked after him for a bit," Greg iterated. "No-one knows why he won't wake up."

"Chris?" Logan said with sense of disquiet.

A few hours and some social media stalking later, Logan was driving up Fig Leaf Street. If he was lucky he'd catch Henry before he went to school. After the conversation with Greg, Logan had visited the fourth floor and took one look at Chris before freaking out and leaving.

There was no way this was real.

Logan's subconscious must have recognised Chris just like it recognised Jack. Except, Logan didn't recall ever having seen Chris.

Logan got out his car and walked up the drive of number 1984 Fig Leaf Street. He was about to confirm the impossible or sound like a crazy person. Logan rang the doorbell and it was answered by a good looking jock with a football jersey on.

"Henry?" Logan asked tentatively.

Logan had expected Henry to look Asian, but you never knew.

"No. I'm Andrew, his better looking stepbrother," he replied. "Henry! Door for you. Leroy!"

Andrew lifted his hand to wave down the bottom of the drive. Logan looked to see a young black dude waiting for him. Andrew pushed past Logan with a backpack in one hand and a jacket in the other. A few seconds later, a short, slim Asian boy came to the door. He was eighteen, but looked young for his age.

"Henry?" Logan asked again.

"Yea. Can I help you?" Henry replied.

"Umm..." Logan had lost confidence in this endeavour but was committed now. "I'm here because of Chris Booth?"

"Is he ok? Did he wake up?" Henry asked hopefully.

"No. No. That's kind of why I'm here," Logan said. "This is going to sound crazy but... Chris told me in a dream that he can't wake up and he's trapped in his nightmares by a man called Mr Summer and now I'm in his dreams somehow. Also, the nightmares are aggressively sexual."

"So, the nightmares on Fig Leaf Street continue," Henry said with a tone of dread.

END OF CHAPTER III

TO BE CONTINUED...

I hope readers are enjoying the story so far. If you like it, let me know.

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My stories so far:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester

Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told, A Series of Embarrassing Events, and Noah the Embarrassed Nudist.

Also: Anthology, and The SEX Men.

Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures.