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 IV

WEDNESDAY (cont.)

LUCKY THIRTEEN

"Do you think Logan will help us?" Chris asked.

Us? Jack nearly laughed. There was no helping him.

"I don't know him," Jack admitted. "I hope so."

Chris and Logan's disorientation to time and place, especially since neither of them could wake up, made it hard to tell what time it was in the real world. The real world. Had Logan even woken up? Logan certainly wasn't here now...

Where was here?

Chris and Jack weren't in the forecourt of Logan's college anymore, but then that scenario had been Logan's. They were back in the hospital so this dream might be either Chris or Jack's. They were both in hospital gowns too, though Chris hadn't noticed his wasn't tied so he was exposing his bare back and round ass to Jack. Jack appreciated the view of Chris's bubble butt. It was a really nice pair of cheeks.

As Jack settled himself into a hospital bed, Chris looked around the otherwise empty room. It wasn't just the room that was empty; the corridor, the nurses station, the whole ward was abandoned. Chris had often experienced an abandoned asylum feel to the hospital in his dreams. Even Mr Summer had abandoned the place.

"Thirteen years," said Jack spontaneously.

"What?" Chris replied as he turned to look at him.

"I met my husband thirteen years ago," Jack said thoughtfully. "Lucky thirteen."

Chris walked back towards Jack. He couldn't help but notice how thin Jack looked again; dreams had a habit of allowing people to manifest in different ways, but Chris suspected this was close to how Jack really looked. His scrawny arms protruded from the hospital gown and the scoop exposed his bony sternum.

Jack had tears in his eyes and Chris sat down beside the bed while feeling very awkward. Part of the awkwardness came from his discomfort with men expressing their emotions and part of it was because the chair was cold against his bare ass. Chris didn't know he'd been flashing Jack.

"Oh... I don't really know how to... do this," Chris admitted.

"What? Have a conversation?" Jack said sarcastically.

"Eh... comfort people," Chris replied honestly.

Somehow that made Jack feel even more sad, the tears now rolling down his face.

"There, there," Chris patted Jack's arm.

Jack shook his head and wiped his eyes. It was a terrible effort, but the kid had tried.

"How did you meet him? You're husband..." Chris asked. "Jeffrey was it?"

"Jeremey," Jack corrected. "We were fourteen. What were you doing when you were fourteen?"

Chris tried not to think about it. About the boy, his friend, Joe...

"Swimming, I guess," Chris said vaguely.

"I was in ninth grade. Jeremy had I had been going to school together for years, but we'd never really talked," Jack relaxed as he spoke fondly. "We were in art class and he tried to steal my pencils."

It didn't sound like much to Chris. Was that all it took to meet the love of your life?

"We were joking around and tried to stop him taking my stuff. We were play fighting. I tried to grab them back, I guess," Jack revealed. "Our teacher told us if we wanted to hold hands to do it after class... so we did."

"That sounds nice," Chris admitted.

"It was nice. We had a nice life," Jack murmured quietly.

"I'm sorry," Chris whispered.

Chris really did pity Jack. Jack turned his head to look at Chris, checking him out and remembering.

"We went on holiday together when we were your age," Jack said more brightly. "I was half sleeping on the beach and he appeared over me in his speedos and sunglasses."

"That sounds nice," Chris said automatically.

Chris offered a grin, but hoped Jack didn't think he meant anything gay by it.

"It was nice," Jack agreed. "He was so handsome. He put out his hand and said; hey babe, do you want to come with me?"

Jack put out his hand and hoped Chris would hold it. Just for a minute. Chris relented, and felt Jack's grip surprisingly tight. Like he was holding on for dear life. He was. Jack's fond misery returned, tears leaking silently from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Chris offered again.

"Do you think Logan will help you?" Jack asked.

Chris registered the rephrasing of the question he had asked five minutes ago. Will Logan help us vs. help you.

"I hope so," Chris replied.

"Me too," Jack agreed.

LESS THAN A MILLION

"Ok... I have a question..." Quinn said after a several seconds of silence.

Henry had called Quinn, Andrew and Leroy and told them to get to the house. Andrew and Leroy were annoyed, because they had just left for school and had to walk back. Quinn wasn't bothered. Then Henry revealed what Logan had told him and they all looked agog.

"Only one question?" Leroy complained. "I have about a million questions!"

"I have several questions..." Quinn rephrased. "More than one question, but less than one million."

Leroy threw daggers at Quinn for the sarcasm.

"I've gotta stop hanging out with white people," Leroy muttered grumpily.

"Let's start with, who are you exactly?" Andrew asked Logan.

"Logan Willis. I'm studying pre-med. I've been working at West Raven Hospital," Logan replied even though he wasn't sure any of the details were really relevant. "I've had a few weird dreams lately. Nightmares, I guess."

"Nightmares? Do they prey on a fear or anxiety you have about something?" Henry asked.

"You don't have to tell us what it is," Quinn interjected.

"Yea, I guess they do," Logan admitted.

The dreams played on his fear of dropping out or being thrown off the pre-med course. Of disappointing his dad. Logan didn't know how to tell his father that he had doubts.

"How did you find Henry?" Quinn asked.

"Chris told me," Logan replied. "He said to find Henry Ng or Quinn Mason."

"He mentioned me?" Quinn asked. "I'm flattered."

Henry and Chris had kissed at the end of junior year, but since then Chris had made clear he did not want to talk about or think about his attraction to boys. Henry was sure this was Chris's biggest fear, but he would never tell anybody. In the six weeks since the final confrontation, Henry hadn't even talked to Quinn about it.

The problem was, Quinn had misinterpreted Chris's fear during the final confrontation with Mr Summer; though he had forged a closer bond to Chris, Quinn didn't know Chris was gay. Quinn thought Chris's biggest fear was drowning, but it was Chris's fault for trying to cheat the curse. That's why he was trapped while the others escaped. They had all faced their fears.

"Chris said you guys were all trapped in nightmares by a dead coach who had abused your dads?" there was no way for Logan to say that delicately. "Then you all escaped, but he's still trapped."

"Fredrick Summer was arrested twenty years ago and was set free on a technicality," Henry elaborated. "His wife and baby had abandoned him, so he stuck around to get revenge on our dads."

"But he died?" Logan asked.

Henry, Andrew, Leroy and Quinn shifted nervously. Their dads had tied Mr Summer to a chair in a windowless room and left him to starve. So yes, Mr Summer very much died; he very much blamed his enemies for ruining his life and afterlife too.

"Yea. He died," Herny agreed vaguely.

"I wonder why Chris got stuck though? We got Chris's donation to put on Summer's grave, right?" Leroy said.

"Donation?" Logan queried.

The donation was spunk – Mr Summer's obsession and a something essential to his magic.

"We all wanked on his grave," Andrew said. "It's not as disrespectful as it sounds."

It kinda was as disrespectful as it sounded.

"Right, sure," Logan responded.

"Yea and I helped Chris face his fear," Quinn said.

Henry gave Quinn a sideways glace but his best friend didn't return it. Which was odd. Quinn was too cool about Chris's fear; if Quinn knew Chris was gay, he would have been more enthused and animated. Quinn didn't have much of a poker face, he would have been elated to know Chris was gay even if he didn't tell anyone the secret. Henry realised there was something off about his friend's reaction to it all.

"Maybe Chris is trapped because he was in a coma when we broke the spell?" Andrew suggested.

"We don't really understand enough about what Mr Summer was... is capable of. What else did Chris say?" Quinn asked.

"He said he was trapped and so is a guy named Jack. Jack's a patient at the hospital. I'm somehow in the dreams too," Logan answered. "Oh, and some guy named Dante."

"Dante Torrez-Guzman?" Andy and Leroy said together.

"You know him?" Logan asked.

"Well, I mean, if the Dante we're looking for is Dante Torrez-Guzman, that would be fucking amazing," Leroy enthused.

"Yea. Oh my god, it's so exciting," Quinn joined in.

Quinn was almost jumping up and down with excitement.

"You don't know who he is, do you?" Henry asked his friend.

"Not a clue," Quinn admitted. "I just wanted to be a part of it."

"Dante is a star football player. He used to go to West Raven High. When he went to West Raven University, he joined the football team and he's the hottest player they've had in decades," Leroy explained.

It had caused a lot of excitement at the school to know a former student had made such an impressive name for himself. Dante was part of a $3 billion industry.

"Except he's apparently got an injury they're looking into," Andrew added. "Rumour has it he's been admitted to hospital."

This news had broken locally a few weeks ago, but no-one knew what the injury was. Speculation was that he'd been hurt in practice. Logan said nothing because he happened to know Dante's hospitalisation was much more serious than people thought. Logan had taken Dante's bloods last week and seen his case file.

"Maybe that's the link?" Quinn said. "You're all at the hospital at the same time?"

"A lot of people are in the hospital and they're not all in the dream," Henry rationalised.

"Plus, I've had the nightmares when I'm at home too," Logan added.

"Hmmm..." Quinn replied as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It's a tricky one isn't it?"

"If Dante is in hospital, does that mean this Jack dude is too?" asked Henry.

"He's a patient, yea. That's all I can say," Logan responded tentatively.

Patient confidentiality meant he shouldn't say anything.

"Look, I need to get home. I was working night shift and I've got classes this afternoon," Logan said as he looked at his watch.

"Yea, we're gonna be late for school," Henry realised.

"I can drop you guys off," Logan offered.

"Should we be getting into a car with a strange man?" Quinn asked. "Are we going to take candy from him too?"

Henry rolled his eyes while Andrew and Leroy just ignored him, but Logan of all people chuckled.

"Is he the funny one?" Logan asked.

"Please don't encourage him," Henry replied.

HELL'S BELLS

"Joseph?" Chris asked with a hint of surprise.

"Hi Chris. I just go by Joe now," he replied.

Joe was eighteen, skinny and not muscly, with chicken legs and blonde fluff on his chin that he pretended made him look older. His blonde hair was messy and his eyes were innocent and green with long eyelashes. His cheeks had a flushed red tinge to them like he was constantly embarrassed.

"Joe... I've not seen you for..." Chris struggled to think how long it had been.

"Four years," Joe said.

"Yea. Sounds about right," Chris agreed.

They had been fourteen and... Joe had kissed him... Chris had freaked out and never spoke to Joe again. Joe had tried to apologise, but Chris made clear he wouldn't accept the apology or talk about it. Even as a fourteen year old, Chris was a bit of a jerk. In senior year, Chris was popular for being a star diver for the school, but as a person he was generally considered to be a bit of a dick.

Chris never really reflected on how lonely he was. He was friendly with most kids at school whether they were popular or unpopular or not-popular, but Chris didn't actually have friends. Joe had been a friend.

"Wow, Chris, you look amazing," Joe said.

"Thanks. I took diving pretty serious for the last few years," Chris said.

"Threw yourself into it, did you?" Joe laughed at his own joke.

Chris laughed too.

"What are your doing here?" Chris asked.

It was only as he asked the question that `here' seemed to consolidate into a definable location.

Chris was in his father's church.

The nave of the church had rows of benches facing the alter, pulpit and lectern at the front. An aisle up the middle of the nave formed two columns of benches. At the back of the church, above the narthex, was a room that overlooked the church and it's congregation. The room was used as the choir balcony, but also as a quiet room for reflection. The room observed the church through a floor to ceiling window, that could be slid open during mass, but cameras and speakers helped to project the boys into the nave. Everyone in the church could see the choirboys going at it... singing, obviously.

"I'm just visiting," Joe admitted.

"The church?" Chris asked.

"You," Joe replied.

After they had fallen out, Joe stopped trying to repair the damage. There was only so many times he could apologise. Besides, Joe wanted to come out and he accepted that Chris would feel guilty by association so he stayed away. Joe moved schools at the end of eighth grade and Chris never saw him again.

Until now.

"You came to see me?" Chris asked shyly.

"As much of you as you're willing to show," Joe flirted.

Chris looked around nervously as if afraid their private conversation would be overheard. Chris didn't even say things about his feelings in confession. He wondered if his dad would understand. Chris's dad had been young once, and abused by his coach; his dad had married and conceived Chris before becoming a priest, he would surely understand feelings...

What feelings? For boys? Chris didn't want to be that way. He wanted to make an act of contrition and be absolved of it all. Deep down, Chris was not just afraid of being gay, but of being accepted for being gay. Chris was afraid of living his life gay instead of hiding it and burying it.

Chris wanted to live a lie.

Chris was afraid his father would forgive him.

"Joe, I can't..." Chris said. "I'm sorry for the things I said all those years ago though. I said some really terrible things."

Just some things about Joe going to hell.

Chris believed he would go to hell.

"I don't believe what you believe," Joe replied.

Joe had said the same thing four years ago, but that had only made Chris angrier and crueller.

"I know," Chris accepted now.

It was cathartic in a way. Joe's niceness lulled Chris into a sense of security. Joe stepped forward and looked around the room. Chris looked around too. They were alone and the door was closed.

Joe kissed Chris and Chris felt a spark.

It was nice.

It had been nice when Henry had kissed six months ago.

It had been nice when Quinn had jerked him off in his dream...

The one that should have ended all of this if Chris had been brave enough to confess his real fear.

Chris felt hands tugging the bottom of his t-shirt and his top was pulled up and off before he could even think about it.

"What are you doing?" Chris gasped.

He was topless in church with Joe looking at him enviously.

"I told you; I wanted to see as much of you as possible," Quinn replied.

"We're in church!" Chris squeaked.

Joe smirked like the scandal of it all was more of a turn on than something that dissuaded him.

"Come on, let me see that swimmer's body," Joe cooed.

Chris relented, which should have been the first clue that there was something untoward going on because he would never take a chance like this. Chris hadn't even noticed it was a dream yet; there was a part of him, the part tapped by the memory of Joe, that wanted this. Chris felt Joe's hands fumble with the fastening for his pants; Chris stood with his hands at his sides, his fingers fidgeting nervously.

Then Joe pulled Chris's pants down, exposing bikini briefs the likes of which Chris would never wear. Joe pulled at Chris's feet until he lifted each one so that Joe could pull off Chris's shoes, socks and pants. Finally, Chris was stood in nothing but tiny underpants.

"Wow," said Joe.

Chris blushed embarrassedly and clasped his hands in front of his crotch. He felt exposed in the bikini briefs in a way he didn't usually feel when swimming in his speedo. Perhaps it was the sacramental environment? Standing around in sexy undies in church was scandalous.

"You look great Chris," Joe enthused. "You're really rocking that swimmers bod. Do you shave?"

Chris felt ogled, yet he was flattered. Usually being sexualised by another boy would have made Chris angry and defensive, but those feelings were lulled, pacified and calmed – making Chris submissive.

"Yea. Most divers and swimmers do," Chris replied.

"Show me your pits and those amazing biceps," Joe said.

The scrawny boy was excited to see Chris pose, while Chris registered the discomfort of not only being nearly naked in his dad's church, but being the only one undressed. Chris curled his arm to make his biceps pop and Joe gave out an impressed whistle of appreciation.

Joe reached out and ran his hand through Chris's shaved armpit.

"I've not been this hairless since we were twelve or thirteen," Joe said. "I guess you like that."

Chris felt the condemnation even if it was delivered cheerily.

It was another signal of something not being right.

Yet...

Chris couldn't see what was wrong with all this. The scenario masqueraded as reality and Mr Summer felt delighted by Chris's lack of awareness; it was one of the things the sinister man missed most – duping the boys and making them think the dream was reality.

"Turn around and let me see you from the back," Joe pleaded.

Chris turned.

"Oh, sexy boy," Joe said. "Look at those cheeks."

Joe touched Chris's ass, his fingers making contact with the bare skin of the gluteal sulcus. Joe's fingers slipped into the band of the leg hole so his finger could caress the soft, bare skin of Chris's cheeks.

"You must shave your thighs too?" Joe asked.

Joe squatted so he was face to ass with Chris's tightly wrapped buttocks. Then he stroked the inside of Chris's thigh. Joe's hand moved up and down with his fingers making deliberate, sensual, glancing strokes of Chris's perineum and balls.

Chris gasped.

Even through the soft, tight fabric Joe's touch felt like he was touching the bare skin of Chris's taint.

"I should... I should get dressed..." Chris said.

"Nooo!" Joe pouted with disappointment.

Joe stood up and Chris turned to face Joe again.

"I feel really exposed like this," Chris said.

Chris shyly placed his hands in front of his groin again.

"But you look amazing," Joe assured him. "You look way better than my skinny ass!"

Chris thought Joe looked cute, but he couldn't say that out loud. Joe was thin and spindly, but very sweet.

"Move your hands," Joe said. "I want to see."

Chris was compelled to remember the way he had rejected Joe and it made him want to please his old friend. Where were these memories coming from all of a sudden? These feelings? Chris moved his hands and dropped his eyes. It was just like being at the pool, he tried to remind himself.

But then he felt fingers in the front of his bikini briefs and Chris watched as Joe pulled the waistband forward to peek inside.

"I can't feel any hair there either. You really must shave everywhere, Chris," Joe said sweetly.

Yet... was it sweet? There was an undertone of judgement and amusement; it was demeaning, but dressed up as mere observation. Joe leaned in to look inside the briefs and he smiled.

"Wow, Chris... I can see your penis," Joe said.

Chris gasped – the words echoed in his head. A boy was looking at his wiener.

"I need... I need to get dressed, Joe," Chris looked around frantically.

His clothes were gone. But where? They couldn't just vanish. What if someone walked in and saw him like this? Before Chris could contemplate this farther, he felt his briefs being tugged down and his penis slipping free from the seat of the underpants.

"Joe!" Chris exclaimed.

"I just want to look," Joe said.

Chris's bikini briefs were now wrapped around the middle of his thighs, with his ass, penis and testicles fully exposed. Joe wasn't done though. His hand started to pat and stroke Chris's bald pubis. Chris had never been so smooth down there. Even he could feel that it was as smooth as porcelain, as if he'd never had a pube there at all.

"Wow, Chris. Not even any stubble," commented Joe.

Joe's hand cupped and then moved under Chris's scrotum to scoop his balls into a single hand. Joe rolled Chris's balls around like medicine balls. Chris remained flaccid despite the intervention. His limp three inches dangled over Joe's thumb as the other boy continued to interfere with him.

Chris was embarrassed and scared of being caught, but also excited and flattered by the attention.

"Chris? Why don't you take those off for me?" Joe purred.

"Take them off?" Chris repeated breathlessly.

"Yea. I want to see you take them off. Please? For me?" Joe begged.

Mr Summer had always enjoyed this. When he could get big, dumb boys to degrade and demean themselves. It was one thing to strip a boy, but to get them to do it themselves? He could just sit back and watch. Joe stood back to watch as Chris pushed the bundle of fabric down his thighs until they fell around his ankles. Chris stepped out of them and was naked in the church.

He was naked in the church.

"Gee, Chris... you look so good," Joe said enviously. "I just look like this."

Joe lifted his top to flash his skinny middle and scrawny chest. He dropped his t-shirt, reverting the emphasis of the divine exposure to Chris again.

"How big does it get?" Joe asked.

"How big?" Chris asked in a scandalised voice.

"Yea. You can get a boner, right?" Joe asked condescendingly. "I know you look like a hairless boy, but your weenie does get bigger, doesn't it?"

Chris felt humiliated by the questions.

Chris felt pressed to prove himself.

"Of course it gets bigger," Chris replied indignantly.

"Oh... are you a big boy, Chris?" Joe asked with a giggle.

Chris took his limp penis in his hand and started to stroke. Joe looked delighted as he watched Chris masturbate himself into an erection.

"Wow, Chris, I can't believe you're playing with yourself in church," Joe said.

Chris looked up irately. Joe had wanted him to get hard! Chris felt excited despite the dander and the embarrassment. It wasn't until he let go of his erection and he watched the bloated, wet cock standing hard and proud that Chris really thought about things.

He was totally naked.

He was in church.

Joe was clothed.

All of his clothes were gone.

Yet, Chris did not and could not cover up.

He stood there bare foot and bare assed with his hard cock pointing out.

"I can't believe you did this."

The voice did not come from Joe.

Chris looked past Joe to the door into the balcony and saw his dad standing there.

"Dad!?" Chris groaned.

Chris wanted to cover up, but he couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Father Booth. I tempted him," Joe said insincerely.

"Perhaps it is him who led you astray? Besides, my son should have resisted. Everyone knows the power of prayer can make you not-gay," Sebastian Booth said. "All you need to do is pray and the thing you want will happen. Unless it doesn't, in which case it is part of god's plan."

"That is very wise, Father Booth," Joe agreed.

"Dad..." Chris said, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Son, you should know better than to strip naked and expose yourself and masturbate. Disgusting boy!" his dad admonished.

"I'm sorry dad. I never wanted to disappoint you," Chris said.

"The entire congregation has been watching you. The cameras were on. They all know your filthy secret!" Father Booth continued to chastise him.

Except! This wasn't his dad's style. His dad didn't talk like this.

Deep down Chris knew his dad wouldn't even say things like this if he knew Chris was gay.

Not that Chris would ever admit that. He could never say it.

That's why he was trapped in the nightmares.

The nightmares.

"Everyone has seen you get excited and seen you desperate to please this boy," his dad explained. "If you prayed properly, god would have taken these feelings away and you could thank him for it. And if the feelings didn't leave, it would be your fault."

"Praise god for the good stuff and blame yourself for the bad stuff," Joe said solemnly. "Amen."

"Come with me, Chris," his dad ordered.

When Chris did not immediately follow, his dad grabbed him by the ear and pulled him. Chris yelped.

"Dad! Where are we going?" Chris asked.

"To the alter, Chris..." Father Booth replied.

"But you said the congregation was in there," Chris cried.

"You need to be punished for your sins, Chris," his dad said firmly.

"Flagellation?" Joe asked excitedly.

"Indeed," Father Booth answered. "What better way than by mortification of the flesh?"

MORTIFICATION OF THE FLESH

Chris was dragged down stairs from the choir balcony and into the narthex, then into the central aisle of the nave. The people there turned to offer Chris looks of disgust, disappointment, shock, judgement, disapproval and shame; Chris felt burned by the condemnation, yet he also felt angry. He was angry at their judgement.

Chris was angrier about their judgement than his own transgression.

He didn't feel like he deserved this judgement.

There was a time when Chris would have felt it was perfectly justified, but now he only felt affronted. Chris was too busy thinking about his change of attitude that he didn't realise his dad had let go of him, so Chris was marching naked down the aisle of his own free will. His bare feet on the stone floor and a breeze against his ass from the open front doors emphasised his nudity.

Chris's cock continued to point like a divining rod, swaying as he walked.

"Put your hands on the altar, Chris," Father Booth said.

Chris obeyed his dad's authority.

"Joe, perhaps you can help?" Father Booth said.

"You want me to punish him?" Joe asked.

"Good idea," said Father Booth.

Joe stood beside Chris and rubbed the peachy, unblemished cheeks. Then the drew his hand back and slapped it. Chris didn't make a noise. Joe proceeded to slap each cheek in turn until they started to sting.

Chris couldn't believe this was happening.

Stripped.

Naked.

Excited.

Flogged.

Joe spanked Chris again, with Chris's hips pushing forward until he was nearly humping the alar. Chris's cheeks were getting warm now and turning red. Joe stopped long enough to massage the cheeks with soft hands, but that only made the next slap feel even worse.

Chris yelped.

The only consolation about being spanked was he was now facing away from the congregation so they could not see his shameful erection.

Joe rubbed Chris's cheeks again, but his fingers slipped into the damp crack. Chris didn't dare look around, but he felt Joe make little circles with his index finger until he found Chris's hole. Joe slipped a finger inside him, but as much as Chris wanted to object... he liked it.

He liked it.

Then Joe spanked him again.

Chris's cheeks were red raw now, burning almost as fiercely as Chris's indignation and his shame-blushed facial cheeks.

"Thank you, Joe," said Father Booth. "Chris, apologise to everyone."

Chris couldn't even look at the congregation of his peers as he turned around with his eyes cast down and his erection aiming at them.

"I'm sorry," Chris said ashamedly.

"Is there something you want to confess?" Father Booth asked.

Chris looked at his dad. Except, it wasn't his dad, as it? Chris was having another nightmare. It was obvious.

"Bless me Father for I have sinned," Chris said. "It has been fifty one days since my last confession."

In fairness, he'd been in a coma for more than forty of those days.

Chris could just say it and it would all be over.

Confess that he was gay.

Say the words.

Break Mr Summer's curse by admitting his fear.

Was it that simple.

"I had impure thoughts and I'm sorry," Chris said ambiguously. "I'm really sorry."

Mr Summer smirked at Chris. He knew the boy couldn't confess his secret.

Mr Summer... Father Booth... turned to the congregation.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness," Father Booth spoke.

Joe yawned loudly.

Father Booth and Joe were two sides of the same bastard. One making a mockery of faith and the other also making a mockery of faith.

"In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good..." Chris began.

"Yea, yea, yea," Joe interrupted dismissively.

"Go get cleaned up son," Father Booth said. "You're getting pre-seminal fluid all over the church."

Joe led Chris back up the aisle, past everyone. Joe was humming the wedding march.

At the back of the nave, Joe led Chris towards the parish room.

There was a door that called to Chris. The red door. The colour of old blood. Almost black. Striped with panels of olive green. Chris didn't dare even touch the door; he knew he couldn't.

At the parish room, Joe and Chris entered. As soon as the door closed, Joe turned on Chris and kissed him. Chris pushed him away.

"Why did you do that?" Chris asked.

"Kiss you?" Joe enquired.

"Punish me," Chris sniped. "I didn't... you were... I don't know what to do."

"Shh," Joe said as he kissed Chris's lips.

Joe pulled Chris close and smelled his neck, caressing his back and then groping his butt cheeks. Chris wanted to be wanted. It was hard to say no. It was getting harder to deny what he really wanted.

Chris kissed Joe.

It quickly became more heated and passionate.

"I want you to fuck me, Chris," Joe said.

Chris was shocked by the idea.

Chris had fantasised about kissing and masturbation and even oral with another boy. In the last dream he shared with Quinn, his classmate had sucked his cock. But... this... did Chris dare to have sex with a boy?

The thing was, Chris knew this was a dream and it felt more like a dream than a nightmare. It was as if Mr Summer didn't always have the mental ability to control the dreams; as if some of the dreams really were just a dream and not a nightmare.

Moreover, Chris had shown he could manipulate the dreams. Did he want Joe that badly that he would contrive such a hypnotic scenario?

Whatever happened in the dream, stayed in the dream.

So, Chris could do whatever he wanted.

Chris pressed Joe across the room until his back was against the wall. Chris pulled Joe's top off, which exposed Joe's skinny frame. Joe turned himself around and put his hands on the wall, pushing is ass out, griding it into Chris's hard groin.

Chris put his hands on Joe's hips and pulled his pants and underwear down.

Joe had a petite butt with dimples in them and his spindly legs were wispy with hair but soft to the touch. Chris wasn't sure what to do, but Joe guided him.

"Your cock is wet. Pull my cheeks apart and smother my hole with goo," Joe said.

He was so romantic.

Chris did as Joe said and it seemed like his cock was squirting more precum as the need arose. Soon the pink sphincter was lovely and wet, slick and slimy.

"Press the head of your dick against the hole and push," Joe continued.

Chris did this too. The spongy head was malleable against the hole, which slowly dilated and invited entry. Chris pushed harder and his cock entered. His cock was inside a boy. Chris kept pushing until the entire head slipped inside and then his shaft.

The shaft of Chris's cock seemed to disappear like magic.

"Harder, Chris. Harder," Joe begged.

It felt so good. It was hot and warm and wet inside. The ring clamped against the girth of Chris's cock, creating a tight grip on his veiny shaft as he pulled it out and pushed it in. Chris discovered that he really enjoyed pushing in until his pelvis connected with Joe's buttocks.

"That feels so good Chris. You're going to make me cum," Joe said. "Am I going to make you cum?"

Chris was naked and hard and fucking a boy! Of course he was going to cum.

The earlier humiliation was forgotten, and now all Chris wanted to do was blow his load inside Joe. Chris pulled back and pushed inside the boy with a clap of pelvis against buttock. Joe didn't have much cushion for the pushing, but his skinny ass made up for it by having a tight hole.

"Harder, Chris," Joe said again.

Chris pumped Joe's ass. His cock had never felt so hard. Chris had never felt so close to another person. Chris wrapped his hands around Joe's skinny body and stroked his bare skin. Chris kissed the back of Joe's neck as he caressed Joe's chest, feeling his ribs like the keys on a xylophone. Chris pinched Joe's nipple.

Looking down, his cock buried in Joe's hole, he saw his own totally smooth pubis and Joe's totally hairless sacrum.

"Oh fuck," Chris said.

When he started to cum, Chris imagined Joe's guts filling with a fountain of goodness. Chris knew that ejaculate volume wasn't like that, but it felt like a shower hose was going off inside Joe's anus.

When Chris pulled out, Joe looked over his shoulder with a big grin. Cum was leaking out of his ass and running down his legs.

"You should get that," Joe told Chris.

Chris knelt down and put his face between Joe's legs. Chris's tongue lapped up and down Joe's silky thighs. Then Chris's mouth moved to Joe's creamy buttocks. His tongue dragged across the cum-sluiced skin until he reached the leaking hole.

Joe's ass was still weeping the enormous load Chris had released inside. The pink ring almost blinked as more creamy goo was released. Chris pursed his lips and kissed the ring like he was meeting the pope. Chris sucked on the sphincter, slurping his own fun back into his mouth.

"Oh my god Chris," Joe purred.

Chris eventually pulled his mouth away from the sweet treat that was Joe's cum discharging anus.

Joe turned around and was jerking his cock, which was about six and a half inches big – just like Chris's. Joe put his hands on Chris's shoulders and then cupped his head until Chris dipped his face towards the cock. Chris opened his mouth and felt Joe's dick spreading his lips.

Chris didn't have long to wait for the finale. The dick had only been pushed in and out of his face a few times before Joe pulled his penis out of Chris's mouth and stroked it with enthusiastic swipes. Joe came in Chris's face, glueing his eyes closed and turning his nose and cheeks slimy with spunk. The jizz was all over Chris's mouth and chin.

"You're a good cocksucker," Joe said.

It sounded like a compliment.

Chris couldn't tell where the comment had come from – the dream, and therefore his own psyche, or the nightmare, and therefore Mr Summer's cruel imagination. But, if it was Chris's own dream, that would mean Mr Summer's influence was not total. It would mean Mr Summer's ability to observe was incomplete.

"Did you like that?" Joe asked.

Chris looked up and felt doubt for the first time. He'd always been so sure that his secret would stay a secret forever. But, he had a doubt.

"You can just admit it, you know," Joe said.

Joe affectionately wiped his own slut juice off Chris's cheek.

"I know," Chris replied.

But, he didn't say it.

THIS IS MY BLOOD

"Chris?"

Chris looked around, expecting another disastrous addition to the scenario – for the rug to be pulled, for Mr Summer to laugh at him and torment him.

It wasn't Mr Summer though.

It was Henry.

"Henry?" Chris responded.

He was on his feet and dashing across the room, quite forgetting that he was still naked. Henry took in the sight of the naked Chris, with jizz on his face. Henry had only been there a minute. The skinny guy looked familiar and not in the Mr Summer masquerading as a sinister background character kind of way.

The skinny guy looked familiar. It was only as Chris got closer that he started to slow down, remembering his nakedness. He looked over his shoulder at Joe and knew what Henry would think.

"This... it was just part of my nightmare..." Chris lied.

Henry looked at Joe again and recognised him as a kid they went to middle school with. He was exactly the kind of character Mr Summer would drag into a scenario. Yet, that wasn't what it had looked like. There was no malevolent presence hiding, waiting to spring a surprise or a comment about being hungry.

"Chris, it's good to... see you," Henry said.

Embarrassed, Chris covered his genitals.

Then he remembered he had cum on his face. Dream or nightmare, he had cum on his face. Chris wiped his face with one hand while barely covering his penis and testicles with the other. Henry could see Chris's boyhood between his fingers.

"Chris it's ok, I came to find you," Henry said.

"How? How are you here?" Chris asked.

"I fell..."

Henry vanished.

"I hoped I'd find you here," said Logan excitedly as he shook Henry awake.

Henry awoke with a start and his first feeling was one of annoyance, followed by dismay, followed by a little bit of anger, followed by hunger... was hunger a feeling?

Undoubtedly hunger was a feeling, but was it an emotion?

Anyway!

Henry was irritated because his sleep had been disturbed.

"Dammit, Logan! I was dreaming. I was in Chris's dream," Henry said.

"You were? What was he dreaming about?" Logan asked.

"Best not to say, I think," Henry replied.

"How were you able to see his nightmare?" Logan asked suspiciously.

"We were all... cursed together..." Henry said tentatively. "I thought maybe if I was close to Chris, now that we know he's still trapped... if I fell asleep, maybe I could talk to him."

"That makes no sense!" Logan said

"Which is about as much sense as any of this stuff has ever made," Henry pointed out.

"Good point," Logan conceded.

"Why are you here? Are you back on shift?" Henry asked.

"No. I was at a class this afternoon and were talking about crossmatching blood," Logan said excitedly.

Logan stopped and looked expectantly at Henry.

"Ok," Henry replied slowly.

"Henry, crossmatching is a blood test to see what type you are so you can get the right blood. I crossmatched Jack when he first came into hospital," Logan said.

When Jack had been admitted to hospital, he had been given a unit of blood to see if it would help his symptoms. It was ultimately a futile effort, and Jack was now expected to pass away in a matter of hours or days.

Logan had stopped again and again looked expectantly at Henry.

"Ok," Henry said with a shrug.

"Henry, I'm anaemic!" Logan announced excitedly. "I got a transfusion last week."

"Cool," Henry offered a reassuring thumbs up.

Logan sighed.

"Dante had a transfusion too. I checked," Logan revealed and his eyes slid to Chris.

Now Henry got it!

Chris was a blood doner.

"That's how you're all sharing his nightmares," Henry said excitably. "You all got Chris's blood."

END OF CHAPTER IV

TO BE CONTINUED...

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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.