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 VI

FRIDAY

FOOTPRINTS

"Are you ok?" Chris asked gently.

Chris's concern was for Jack even though it was he who had just faced Mr Summer. Chris had just come from his confrontation with Mr Summer who had warned him that helping Dante accept his fear had made a hole in his mind. For the first time, Chris was thinking Mr Summer might be defeatable. He had seen the man weakened and angry, but more than that... Mr Summer had been afraid.

Chris was still scared too, but things were changing; he didn't know if he was ready for it, but that didn't stop the changes from coming.

Jack looked forlorn at Chris and his eyes were sad, filled with shame.

"I was a real dick to Dante, wasn't I?" Jack asked.

Jack looked away – turning his gaze to the horizon. Chris had come looking for Jack and found him. Navigating the hypnoscape seemed easier now. They were sitting on a low wall, legs dangling towards a sandy beach. It was only half a dozen steps to reach the blue water of a warm sea. It was beautiful here – not Chris's dream, that was for sure.

In fact.

This was more like a memory.

Jack was remembering a holiday with Jeremy three years ago. They'd made love on the beach.

"You were angry," Chris said understandingly.

"I was still a dick," Jack confessed.

It seemed important to him to admit he had been unfair; yet, Jack did feel Dante was being selfish. Perhaps, Jack only felt that way because Dante had a choice and he did not.

"He disappeared; did you notice?" Jack said.

"Yea, I noticed. Mr Summer noticed too," Chris confided.

"How'd he take it?" Jack asked.

"Really well," Chris said brightly. "Really, really well."

"Wow. That bad?" Jack chuckled.

Jack kicked his legs – they were skinny and frail. His heels were red. He rested his bare feet against the wall and felt the heat passing into them.

"He said helping Dante to get free made a hole. Mr Summer told me not to do it again," Chris admitted, his faint smile fading.

"Me and Logan and yourself still stuck here, Chris. Trapped. You have to get out," Jack pointed out.

"He said he'd make my nightmares worse if I helped you," Chris replied because he wasn't thinking about himself for once.

"Mr Summer is vulnerable," Jack offered his insight. "He needs you. He needs all of us. Without us, he's nothing."

There was a breeze and the faint smell of salt in the air.

"Maybe I can help you?" Chris offered.

Jack smiled and at looked Chris with intense eye contact.

"I was going to say the same thing to you," Jack responded.

"I know you're scared, Jack," Chris said.

Jack sat back and sighed.

He closed his eyes, looking into the sun.

"If you stay with me, I won't be scared," Jack whispered dejectedly.

Chris reached out and took Jack's hand, holding it in a gesture of friendship and love. Chris was not the kind of boy to show affection like this. Jack smiled at the earnestness of the effort.

"I know I'm not Jeremy," Chris acknowledged. "But I can be here for you."

"I appreciate it, Chris," Jack looked into Chris's eyes.

"Will Jeremy be there? Out there?" Chris asked.

Out there. In the real world.

Jack nodded.

"I reckon he'll stay with me until the end," Jack replied. "I'll love him until the day that I die."

Chris felt sorrow in hie bones.

He couldn't imagine loving someone so much.

"It's not being alone that I'm afraid of, Chris. It's not even dying," Jack confessed. "Well, obviously I'm afraid of dying. I don't want to die..."

Chris nodded his understanding.

"It's that I'll not get to say goodbye," Jack admitted. "There are some things you just have to... come out and say, Chris."

Jack looked meaningfully at Chris.

Here it was. Another chance to say it. Chris could tell Jack. Chris trusted Jack.

Besides, Jack already knew. He'd already figured it out. Jack had all but just told Chris he knew.

But, despite another chance to come clean, Chris couldn't do it. He failed yet again to come out and to set himself free.

"It's ok, Chris," Jack said.

They sat, holding hands and not talking for a few minutes. When Jack was sure Chris wasn't going to say it, he raised his free hand and pointed out to the horizon.

"Look at that... Beautiful," Jack said.

Chris looked and it was beautiful. So why did it make him feel so sad to share it with Jack?

"Yea," Chris agreed. "It feels different this time. The dream."

"I remember this place," Jack admitted. "Three years ago. Jeremy and me were here. HE stood over me in speedo's and offered me his hand and said... Hey babe, do you want to come with me?"

Chris smiled wanly. It wasn't that the story wasn't nice and sweet, it was that Chris felt like he was missing out by not having that kind of relationship. And, obviously, Jack and Jeremy would miss out on that relationship when Jack died.

Jack let go of Chris's hand and hopped off the wall. The drop was less than a meter onto soft, warm sand. Jack kicked off sandals and slipped off the short-sleeved shirt. Jack took a few steps as wriggled his hips and slipped the shorts from his waist. Pushing them down, Jack stepped out of the short without breaking stride.

"Do you want to come with me?" Jack tittered over his shoulder.

Chris watched the young man. So thin. Confident. Pale. Jack jogged three steps before being reduced to a breathless walk, but Jack walked into the warm sea. Jack turned back with his arms in the air and gesturing for Chris to join him.

"Come on Chris," Jack called out.

Chris could see Jack's shrivelled penis. It looked nice. Normal. It was an entirely asexual gesture, but one that was shameless, confident and open. Chris wished he could be like that.

Could he be like that?

Chris pulled his t-shirt off and hopped off the wall. His footprints landed beside where Jack's should have been, but Jack was now so light, so insubstantial, that he hadn't even made a footprint in the sand.

Chris flicked sneakers from his feet and pushed his shorts down.

As Chris walked forward, he was acutely aware of his exposure in a public place. Except, there was no-one around. Just Chris and Jack. Jack was watching though.

Chris could feel Jack looking at his naked body. His penis. It wasn't so scary.

Chris reached the water and splashed in beside Jack, who was smiling.

Chris felt free. Mr Summer's mind couldn't touch him here. The sinister man would find him again, but for now Chris could enjoy the sun, sea and sand.

And the friendship that splashed water in his face and cackled with laughter. Chris laughed too, but mostly because Jack looked so happy and sweet.

His laughter was infectious.

Chris would miss it when he woke.

SATURDAY

SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY

"Oh, fuck my fucking brains out!" cried the boy who was being bare backed.

"Shh!" said the librarian who didn't even look up from their copy of Natural Harvest: A Collection of Semen-Based Recipes, by Paul Photenhauer.

Logan was behind the young man, pushing his cock inside with slaps against bubble buttocks. Logan remembered this... almost remembered... Logan had gone to high school with Benjamin. They had been Seniors together.

"Oh, god. That's so good," Benjamin squealed.

"Shh!" the disinterested librarian said again; this time they were reading Eating People is Wrong, by Malcolm Bradbury.

Logan's hand had reached around to jerk Benjamin while he was fucking him, but now Logan's hand moved up. Logan stuffed his sweaty, precum coated fingers into Benjamin's mouth. 1) to make Benjamin taste his own seed and, 2) to shut him up.

Logan looked around.

They were in the high school library.

Logan and Benjamin were alone except for the librarian who was reading Does God Ever Speak Through Cats? by David Evans.

Benjamin was naked except for his socks. He was bent over a book laden table in the middle of the library and Logan was behind him. Logan was naked too, but also and barefoot. His cock was deep inside Benjamin.

Benjamin was the first guy Logan had ever had sex with.

Benjamin was the first person Logan ever told the truth to.

"Avv oo old oor ad ett?" Benjamin tried to say.

"Shh!" the librarian said over the top of Scouts in Bondage and Other Violations of Literary Propriety, by Michael Bell.

"What?" Logan asked.

Logan pulled his hand form Benjamin's mouth so the boy could speak properly.

"Have you told your dad yet?" Benjamin asked.

Benjamin was hot and sweaty. Logan leaned his face towards Benjamin's back and licked a bead of sweat from his spine.

Had Logan told his dad?

That he didn't want to study medicine?

Disappointed him like that?

"No. I can't tell him," Logan replied.

"Shh!" the librarian complained as they tried to read How to Talk to Your Cat About Gun Safety: and Abstinence, Drugs, Satanism, and Other Dangers That Threaten Their Nine Lives, by Zachary Auburn.

Benjamin looked over his shoulder at Logan.

"Are you the faggot who came out to your dad when you were fourteen?" Benjamin asked nastily.

It was true. Five years ago, Logan had told his dad he was gay. His dad wore an expression that seemed to wonder why his son was telling him.

"I wasn't scared to tell my dad I was gay," Logan replied.

Logan's thrusts slowed down at the intensity of Benjamin's condescension.

"But you're too much of a coward to tell him you don't want to be a doctor?" Benjam laughed.

It wasn't a nice laugh. It was barbed and sinister.

This wasn't Benjamin.

All at once, Logan was aware he was in the past.

Logan had fucked Ben in the library, but that was then and this was... not then. It was now, now.

"Oh, Doctor Willis!" Benjamin cried out.

"Shh!" admonished the librarian.

They were now reading Goblinproofing One's Chicken Coop and Other Practical Advice in our Campaign Against the Fairy Kingdom, but Reginald Bakeley.

"Doctor, doctor, I can't stop my hands shaking. Do you drink a lot? Not really, I spill most of it," Benjamin joked.

The humour was joyless and mocking.

Benjamin was on his back now. Logan didn't remember changing positions, but this was a dream so the altered reality didn't have to make sense. It had to be a dream. Logan couldn't be in the past. His nightmare had conjured another scenario to taunt him about his fear.

Benjamin was lying on his back on the table. His legs were spread and his arms were stretched above his head to expose his pits and to grab the far end of the table.

"Doctor, doctor, Everyone thinks I'm a liar!" Benjamin snarled. "Well, I find that very had to believe."

Benjamin had been sympathetic.

Logan had known back in Senior year that he didn't want to study medicine, though he'd already applied for pre-med by then.

When Logan had told the real Benjamin, they had been cuddling in a nook at the back of the library. Benjamin worked in the library after school. They'd had sex and then talked about the future. Logan had confided he didn't want to be a doctor and that he was too scared to tell his dad.

Benjamin had confided he wanted to break up.

Logan was getting tired now. His sex with Benjamin was arduous. It felt like it was being drawn out, prolonged, his orgasm postponed. It was as if his cum were being pent up.

"Doctor, doctor, I think I have amnesia. Just go home and forget about it," Benjamin teased again.

"Shh!" the librarian cautioned again.

On the table where the librarian had been sitting was a book entitled The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, by Oliver Sacks.

Had been sitting?

Where was the librarian now?

"I'm behind you!"

Logan started, jerking in fright.

They had been caught in the act.

Logan lurched in embarrassment at being seen naked and mid-coitus.

"Oh yea. Do that again," Benjamin laughed maniacally.

Logan couldn't look at the sinister man behind him. It lurked just out of sight. He was like a shadow cast over Logan's thoughts and feelings and his fears.

When Logan looked at Benjamin, his upper body and arms seemed to stretch. The table spaghettified with him, leaving a grotesque in his place. Leaving Logan alone with the sinister man behind him.

Yet, Logan was still fucking Benjamin's ass.

No.

No.

Logan decided to cum. He could feel he had been denied that as if it was important his autonomy were usurped. As if the scenario were being controlled by someone else, which of course it was. Until now.

Logan came in Benjamin's ass, filling the eighteen year old with spermy goodness. Saturating his ass with gooey sauce. The ejaculation seemed to snap Benjamin back into place. The boy was looking at Logan with disappointment. Disappointment that the tryst was over.

"I'm the only one you ever told. You coward!" Benjamin said.

Logan pulled his cock from Benjamin's ass.

Logan turned to see the sinister man. What was his name again... Mr Summer?

"I don't want to do this anymore," Logan asserted.

"You have no choice," Mr Summer sneered.

The man eyed the naked boy up and down. Coach Summer smirked at the erect cock, smeared with its own cum.

"I don't mean the nightmares," Logan said seriously.

Mr Summer's eyes snapped to Logan's. Logan's voice was defiant. Mr Summers smile faltered.

"This is my last dreaming," Logan decided. "I don't want to study medicine. I don't want to be a doctor. I don't want to disappoint my dad..."

The whole room shook. Cracks appeared all around them as if the walls were splitting in an earthquake. Between the cracks were beams of light. Outside, inside the light, was the real world. The real world was watching and waiting for Logan.

"But I don't want to be stuck here either. So I'm going to tell him," Logan said. "You don't have power over me."

"You fucking..." Mr Summer was furious.

Fredrick Summer reached out his hand to snatch at Logan's face, but he couldn't reach. The room was stretching again, like the expansion of the universe. More space being added between them without either of them moving.

From Logan's perspective, Mr Summer was being stretched out of existence, his fingers elongating horrifically as the rest of him was pulled out of existence.

Then, Logan woke up.

It was early enough in the morning that it was still dark outside, but it was definitely morning. Logan pulled back the covers to discover he'd had a wet dream. He hadn't done that in years. His boxers were sloppy inside, but he knew it was the result of Mr Summer's intervention. Logan could feel that influence had been broken – the link had snapped.

Logan mopped his cum up with a pair of used boxers and then pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He wanted to shower but he needed to do something else first. Logan found his dad in the kitchen, drinking coffee and looking quite serene for the early hour of the day.

"Dad?" Logan said.

The man looked up, catching the anxious and thoughtful tone of his son's voice.

"There's something I need to tell you..." Logan began.

SUNDAY

ON HIS LAST LEG

"You look great," Logan said unconvincingly.

"Go fuck yourself," Dante replied.

He chuckled though which Logan took to mean he was ok.

"At least they left your sparking personality," Logan said dryly.

Dante drew him a sour look. Too soon for jokes? Dante managed to supress the smile, but Logan was actually quite charming. He was a nice kid with a cute face.

"Is there someone I can complain to about your bedside manner?" Dante asked.

"How would I know?" Logan squeaked. "Do I look like I work here?"

Dante looked the young man up and down.

"You are literally wearing a hospital uniform," Dante pointed out.

"Yea, well... about that..." Logan stammered. "I told my dad I don't want to be a doctor. So I'm out of the dream club, or whatever it is we call ourselves."

"We're not calling ourselves anything," Dante said seriously. "We're not a team, man."

"We all went through something together, Dante," Logan said with a heavy sigh.

This dude was hard work!

"Yea well, one time when I had to watch High School Musical with my brother and his boyfriend. We went through something together too," Dante said sarcastically. "But we didn't form a team after it."

"Dante! This is important..." Logan said seriously. "The Zach Effron version or the Joshua Bassett version?"

"Oh for fuck sake! Go away, will you?" Dante grumbled.

Logan laughed and after a second, Dante cracked up too. It was weird because Dante was a celebrity and Logan hardly knew him. Still, it felt like they'd been friends for a long time. Like it or not, they were joined by the nightmares they had shared.

"Dante, how are you doing, man?" Logan asked earnestly.

He had tried to ask when he first arrived to visit and Dante had made clear he didn't want to talk about it. Without thinking, Dante moved his right foot to prod where the other should be. Two days ago, Dante had a left below knee amputation and the world hadn't ended.

"Doctor Ramsingh says the operation was a success," Dante revealed. "I had a high grade osteosarcoma and now I don't. But if I didn't have the amputation, I'd probably have died so..."

"No need to be on your last legs at your age," Logan passed remark.

Dante scowled at Logan. They didn't know each other well enough for this kind of camaraderie, yet Logan was charming enough to pull it off.

"I've got a wheelchair, which I hate. A physiotherapist has already tested me with crutches," Dante continued. "I won't get a prosthetic until after New Year."

It was easier to be pragmatic and to list the things that were going right. He wasn't going to die, for example.

"And my team have been in touch. I've told my manager I want to play again and I want to figure out a way to make it happen," Dante confided.

The odds were against him. The rules were probably against him. But Dante was determined to play football again. Determined or delusional. Time would tell.

"I'll be rooting for you," Logan said earnestly.

"Ok, so tell me about your dad," Dante said.

"Oh!" Logan replied. "He's forty four. About five foot eleven, one hundred and sixty pounds. Plays squash and golf..."

"You're a very silly man," Dante interjected.

"You were afraid to lose your leg and your career and I was afraid to tell my dad I didn't want his career," Logan confessed. "But I couldn't carry on doing this. The stress of studying and the debt and... it would have been stupid to not tell him."

"I get it. It must have been hard though? You didn't want to let him down," Dante understood.

"Exactly. Yea," Logan agreed. "See, we understand each other, like a team."

"Ugh!" Dante groaned.

"Like... the dream team..." Logan suggested. "Or the Wildcats!"

"Oh god! If you start singing Get Your Head in the Game, I'm going to call security," Dante said.

"Together, together, come on, let's have some fun..." Logan sang.

"What are we going to do about the others?" Dante broke in. "Chris and Jack?"

Logan didn't answer right away because the truth was he didn't think anyone could really help them except themselves. No-one could face Chris's fear except Chris himself.

"Well, Chris's friends have a plan. A kid called Henry has been sitting with him trying to enter his dreams. I'm not sure we can help Chris and Jack, to be honest," Logan admitted.

"Then why are you wearing that uniform? I thought you'd quit the medical thing?" Dante asked wryly.

"Ok, fine. The uniform gives me access so I can... I dunno..." Logan admitted. "Maybe I can help them break out somehow?"

"Oh god, please don't," Dante complained because he knew what was coming.

"We're breaking free. We're soaring. We're flying..." Logan broke into song.

"Hi... and you are?"

Logan turned to see a younger, cuter version of Dante. He immediately shut up.

"Logan, this is Christo. Christo, this is the guy who's annoying me," Dante introduced them.

"That's supposed to be my job," Christo joked.

"Well, you'll have to share," Dante answered.

MONDAY

FALLING

Diving never felt like falling to Chris, that's how he knew it wasn't real.

Chris felt like he was falling. He could see the diving board moving away from him.

Looking to his right, Chris saw Jack. Jack was falling too. He reached out and took Jack's hand, squeezing it. Jack's hand was cold. His friend's eyes fluttered open and he turned to look at Chris with weary eyes and a thin smile.

Then they hit the water and sank beath the surface of the pool.

Chris held on tight to Jack, fearing that if he let go his friend would be lost. And then where would he be? Chris had never really realised the importance of friendship before. If he ever got out of this, he would need to do something about that.

Since Chris had fallen rather than dived, it took a few seconds to orientate himself. He didn't want to kick for what he thought was the surface only to sink deeper into the water. The seconds passed before Chris kicked his legs while looking up at the shimmering surface.

He pulled Jack with him.

Chris and Jack broke the surface and gulped in air. Jack was struggling to stay afloat so Chris pulled the young man to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. Chris was briefly aware of his genitals against Jack's bare bum.

They were naked.

Chris hadn't realised that until just this moment.

But, he was dreaming. Chris knew that. The veneer of the dream was obvious. It wasn't just obvious because he had been trapped in Mr Summer's nightmares for two months... it was obvious because the dream was disintegrating.

Something was wrong with the world.

There was a time, when the nightmares first started, that Mr Summer had conjured buckets of cum into the dreams and into reality. Now, the sinister man's ability to warp reality was fatally compromised. Had Mr Summer derived his power from the curse he had placed on Chris, Henry, Andrew, Leroy and Quinn? In the absence of the others, all of Mr Summer's influence flowed from Chris and his connection to a new cast of characters.

Mr Summer's sequel relied upon Chris, Jack, Dante and Logan.

"The water is going down," Jack said.

The young man was finally rousing. Jack's strength grew from totally spent to almost spent. Jack was right though. The water level was falling. A second later, Chris's feet touched the bottom of the pool. Jack wobbled to his feet, standing in front of Chris in the empty swimming pool with no way out.

"There is another hole in my mind!" Mr Summe's voice echoed from above.

Chris and Jack looked up to see the sinister man standing at the edge of the pool and looking down at them.

"Logan," Jack whispered.

Jack turned to face Chris. They were both naked, but there was nothing sexual about it. Their genitals were nearly touching and Chris very much felt nervous about the intimacy. However, Chris didn't feel `that way' about Jack and that impression had exorcized sexuality from their proximity.

"Another delicious young man that I enjoyed having around.. and now he's gone," Mr Summer lamented.

Coach Summer seemed genuinely affected by the loss. Or was that effected? The spectre was diminished. Chris already knew they were linked by his blood; Dante, Logan and Jack had hitched a ride into the hypnoscape through a connection to him.

After Dante vanished... when was that... Chris couldn't remember how many dreams ago... how many days... had any time gone by? The timelessness was another vector of the disintegrating world.

Chris thought he had to help the others.

Logan had clearly helped himself.

Was there any way to help Jack face his fear?

What would even happen when Jack accepted his fear given that he was on his deathbed?

"I warned you Chris. Don't do it again, I said!" Mr Summer cautioned.

"I didn't do anything," Chris said. "He faced you and beat you all on his own."

"I think I need to sit down for a second," Jack interrupted.

The lights in the room flickered; Mr Summer seemed to flicker along the top edge of the pool too. Like a hunting figure, his visage became a silhouette that emitted an oppressive shadow.

"It's just a show, Chris. He's afraid," Jack said wanly.

Chris looked down at Jack who was sitting on the floor of the empty pool.

"Him? Mr Summer?" Chris asked doubtfully.

"He needs us... you... to carry on..." Jack said quietly. "Without you he's nothing."

"I am nothing, Jack," Chris replied. "I can't..."

It was just embarrassing now.

How could he not just say it? Admit it! Say what he was!

"You can, Chris. You will. I believe in you," Jack said with an encouraging smile. "Mr Summer is afraid because he knows you can do it... He's dying, Chris. When you say it. When you finally accept that you're ok, he'll die."

"Ok. That's enough," Mr Summer said.

The ground around Jack became a whirlpool. Jack sank into the spontaneous plughole, which sealed itself shut behind him.

"Where is he, you bastard!" Chris shouted up, but Mr Summer was gone.

Chris was alone.

Jack would be alone too.

They didn't always share dreams, but Chris felt stronger when Jack was around. Perhaps because Jack himself was so vulnerable.

"Where is he!" Chris shouted into the void.

Four voices laughed.

They were just out of sight.

They cackled at Chris's distress.

Somehow, Chris recognised the voices that had laughed: Henry, Quinn, Andrew and Leroy. Had they come for him?

"What are you doing down there?" Henry asked.

"Oh my god dude, were you swimming naked?" Quinn added.

"Maybe his trunks fell off when he fell into the water?" Andrew goaded.

"What water?" Leroy sniggered. "Hey dude, is it cold in there because things look like they've shrunk."

Chris still couldn't see them. Could they see him? Chris self-consciously covered his genitals and burned with humiliation at the commentary.

"Since your old friends have deserted you," Mr Summer's disembodied voice commentated. "Let's bring back your old friends."

At the top of the pool, looking down on him...

Chris very much felt looked down on. Condescended. Demeaned. Patronised.

...four figures appeared to torment Chris: Henry, Andrew, Leroy and Quinn.

Or, something that looked like them.

THE FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS

In the time it took to blink, the four boys had vanished from the poolside and surrounded Chris in the deep end.

Chris was startled, the jump scare causing him to collide with Leroy who was behind him. Leroy grabbed him in a bear hug, pinning is arms to his side, and didn't let go as Chris wriggled. The wriggling made his limp penis flap and flop. Chris couldn't get free.

The story of his life was that Chris couldn't get free.

It was the truth of suffering that Chris grasped at things, ideas and habits that stopped him facing the truth.

"Well, well, well," Quinn said in a sing song tone.

"Were you hoping we'd find you naked, Chris?" Henry teased him.

"Hardly worth seeing," Andrew mocked him. "Look at those hairless balls."

Andrew laughed at Chris, who burned with shame.

Quinn was laughing too, but he reached out to stroke those hairless balls. Chris couldn't resist and didn't want to. He liked it. He liked the feeling of another boy touching him.

"I think he likes it," Leroy snorted.

"Are you getting hard because another guy is touching you, Chris?" Andrew asked.

"Are you a homo?" Henry sniggered.

"You want to touch my dick?" Quinn asked.

Chris said nothing.

His eyes were downcast.

"You do! Oh my god, Chris, that's hilarious," Quinn laughed at the embarrassed boy.

Quinn released Chris's half limp dick and pulled his t-shirt off, dropped his shorts and stepped close to Chris's side. Leroy still had his arms wrapped around Chris's chest and arms, but Chris's hands able to hang at his side in the perfect position for Quinn to put his dick in Chris's hand.

Quinn's soft dick felt nice. In spite of himself, Chris touched it and tugged it and felt it getting hard.

On the other side, Henry was stripping too and soon he was pressing himself on the other side, with Chris caressing Henry's little penis too.

"I can't wait to tell the whole school that Chris Booth is a fucking faggot!" Andrew boasted. "Do you like looking at straight boys, Chris?"

The emptiness of the swimming pool, a place of refuge for Chris, reflected Chris's loss of safety. He had nowhere to go, there was nowhere where he'd be free from the truth of the cause of his suffering. Chris's unease arose from his desire to look at naked men and to touch them.

As Chris stoked Quinn and Henry, who were both hard now, Andrew stood directly in front of him and began to strip. Andrew had an impressive and athletic physique. He was toned and tall, big and muscular.

Henry was short and thin while Quinn had an average build making them both twinks; Andrew was a twunk and Leroy was a hunk. They covered a wide range of body types.

Like Henry and Quinn before him, Andrew was soon naked except for the sneakers on his feet.

"Look at that pathetic plucked chicken between your legs," Andrew scoffed. "Now look at mine. This is what a proper dick looks like."

Andrew punctuated this by grabbing his dick and windmilling it. His cock was surrounded by pubes that formed a crown over the root and a sporadic halo around his thighs and balls.

"You want this thing in your mouth, Chris?" Andrew asked. "Yea, you do!"

Leroy released Chris while Henry and Quinn stood back with raging boners pointed at him. Leroy put a hand on Chris's shoulder and he took the hint dropping to his knees.

How easy it was for the dream to become a nightmare. Mockery, scorn, shame! They could see right through him and read his mind. Chris couldn't hide his sexuality, his interest in men. It was like it was written on him for all to see, even if he didn't want anyone to know. His greatest secret and now the worst kept secret.

Andrew had been stroking himself so it was a fully hard 6.6 inch cock that was pushed into Chris's mouth. He sucked it. It tased good. He liked it. Perhaps Chris could end his anxiety? The truth of the end of suffering was to let go of his unease and unburden himself of his secret desire.

"You like that?" Andrew asked as he face fucked Chris.

Chris put his hands on Andrew's hips and then stroked down the outside of his thighs and down his legs. Andrew wasn't hairy, but Chris could feel the prickle of downy hair as his hand moved across Andrew's skin. Chris cupped the back of Andrew's lovely calves and stroked back up until he was cupping Andrew's buttocks and pulling his groin closer. Andrew felt his cock go deep inside Chris's mouth which, if it could have opened wider, would have swallowed Andrew's balls as well.

"Stick your tongue out and lick my balls," Andrew ordered.

As Chris continued to suck, he pushed his tongue out over his lower lip and wriggled it against Andrew's manly ball sac. Chris scooped his tongue back into his mouth and tried to pull his face free, but Andrew grabbed the back of his head. Chris coughed and gagged, his eyes streaming and his chest tightening from lack of breath. Then, finally, Andrew released him and Chris fell back on his heels.

"Make yourself hard," Henry said.

When Chris hesitated, the others laughed at him.

"Go on, make yourself hard. We know you want to," Leroy said.

Leroy had pulled his shirt off and tossed the warm, moist garment in Chris's face. Chris reached between his legs and tugged his dick. He could smell Leroy's shirt and hear Henry, Andrew and Quinn fapping. By the time Chris was hard, Leroy was naked.

"Open," Quinn commanded as he and Henry walked forward.

Chris opened his mouth and they both pressed their erections against his lips. Their moist, slimy heads smeared on his lips and tongue; Chris could taste the promise of their seeds. Henry slipped his dick into Chris's mouth and Chris wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the cock that was smaller than Andrew's.

Henry and Andrew were stepbrothers, but wildly different in looks; Henry was of Malaysian descent while Andrew was a stereotypical, regular Joe, Caucasian American kid.

There was enough space left in Chris's mouth for Quinn to shove his cock inside beside Henry's. Whether this was possible in reality or only in his dream, Chris doubted he'd ever find out. As Chris's mouth was double fucked, he was jerking his dick and watching Andrew and Leroy masturbate.

"Imagine if the rest of the Seniors could see you now? We'll keep it a secret if you do something for us," Leroy offered.

Henry and Quinn pulled their cocks out of his mouth and once again Chris was left gasping. He was licking his lips and tasting precum in the back of his throat, but didn't want to admit how much he liked it.

"What do you want?" Chris asked.

If Chris could have kept his secret from himself, it would have made things so much easier. Much easier than lying to himself, that was for sure.

"Do you think your slut ass can take both our dicks?" Leroy asked.

"Both?" Chris asked.

"We're going to fuck your hole, Chris. Henry is going to fuck your face. You're going to fuck Quinn's ass..." Andrew responded.

They wouldn't do this to him.

Chris wasn't a very good friend, but Henry et al wouldn't do this to him.

"We're against you. We'll always be against you," Quinn said s if reading his mind.

Chris had no-one to trust.

He nodded.

Chris lay flat on his back. The empty swimming pool was hard and cold. The walls were oppressive and insurmountable. There were no ladders he could use to escape. The empty pool represented how Chris felt about his life and the nightmares too; he was trapped...

Except...

At the far end of the pool there was a door the colour of old blood; dark red with green panels that made it look striped.

The door was always there.

Chris could walk through it any time he chose.

Chris closed his eyes as Andrew parted his knees and pushed a finger into his ass to loosen him up.

Henry knelt down at Chris's head and then shuffled forward until his balls dragged across Chris's face before finally dropping onto his mouth. Chris gobbled the sac of Henry's cum-makers.

Quinn sat beside Chris and took his cock. Quinn's hand was warm and tight. He stroked and then leaned over and kissed it. Wetting Chris's head and then the shaft with his mouth, Quinn continued to alternate between stroking and sucking.

Andrew was starting his penetration. His meaty cock spread Chris's hole. Chris enjoyed the sensation of his sphincter dilating; then the feeling of Andrew's shaft against the ring, the head finding the internal sweet spot.

Even with Henry's balls in his mouth, Chris moaned with pleasure.

"He likes it," Leroy sniggered as he clamoured into position beside Andrew.

"No-one needs to know, Chris," Andrew said as he fucked Chris's hole.

"It can be our secret," Quinn promised as he masturbated Chris.

"Stay," Henry whispered. "Stay and you can have your filthy secret and your filthy desires."

It was tempting. Chris had never contemplated the idea of an alliance with Mr Summer; a mutually beneficial agreement where Chris didn't have to be afraid of his secret as long as he never had to tell it. Mr Summer could have his wicked way and Chris could...

"Oh fuck," Chris moaned as Andrew and Leroy glided inside him.

Chris looked between his legs and couldn't believe he had two cocks inside him.

Henry was repositing so his perineum was right above Chris's eyes. Then Henry pressed his hard cock down and lowered it towards Chris's mouth, which opened in anticipation.

Quinn was no longer masturbating or sucking, but squeezing between the other players, almost sitting on Chris's abdomen as he lowered his ass atop Chris's cock. Chris felt his dick parting Quinn's cheeks, finding the hole and then Quinn dropped slowly until Chris's cock entered his anus.

This was a dream.

It wasn't real.

Chris couldn't live like this. Survive perhaps, but it wasn't real.

Mr Summer could never be trusted.

The idea of an alliance was fleeting at best. Mr Summer could never be trusted. There would always be an agenda. The truth of the path that leads to the end of suffering was for Chris to let go of his fear. He wished he didn't know how, but he did. Chris had always known what he needed to do.

With his ass filled by Andrew and Leroy's cocks, his own cock inside Quinn and Henry's cock in his mouth, he couldn't have admitted it now even if he wanted to.

"That's it, keep taking our cocks, Chris," Andrew laughed.

Andrew was hot. So fucking hot. Temperature and attractiveness. He was going to blow his load inside Chris's hole. Breed him. Fill his ass with cum.

"I'm never gonna wash my ass again, knowing you've cum inside it," Quinn chuckled.

Quinn was still humping himself on Chris's cock, but Chris was getting close to cumming.

"You love it. You're disgusting," Leroy added.

Leroy's thrust clapped against Chris's thigh and ass. He was going to pour his sludge into Chris's asshole until it came out his mouth.

"It's ok, you know," Henry said.

The voice was so soft and gentle.

Chris looked up in surprise. His eyes meeting Henry's, who appeared calm and sympathetic. Unable to stop himself, Henry came in Chris's mouth. Henry seemed surprised that he'd cum in Chris's throat, with Chris guzzling the hot shots. Henry pulled out, which only meant the final spurts ejaculated over Chris's mouth and chin.

"Chris? I'm sorry," Henry said.

Chris wasn't sure what this character was for. Mr Summer usually used characters to bully, intimidate, mock, degrade or trick him. The sympathy of Henry certainly seemed like a trap... but it didn't feel like one.

Chris suddenly cried out and moaned as he came and felt his load blast and leak inside Quinn's ass.

"Gross!" Quinn laughed degradingly. "Chris just came in my hole."

"Faggot!" Leroy said.

"Freak!" Andrew added.

Quinn lifted himself off, with cum slopping out of his loose hole. Chris's own cum was released back to where it came from, sluicing over Chris's cock and then his groin and balls.

Chris watched as Andrew and Leroy came too. He could feel their spunk swimming inside him. Their combined jizz washed around Chris's guts and some of it was released like a jet as the pair pulled out.

"You're a disgusting mess, Chris," Andrew said disdainfully.

Chris could feel the cream oozing from his ring.

Chris felt the return of shame.

"Yea, you..." Leroy started to pile on.

"I think you look great," Henry said.

"What?" Quinn interjected.

"You look great, Chris," Henry said.

Chris scrambled away from Andrew, Leroy and Quinn.

The three of them stood together like a triad, but Henry was no longer with them. They glared at Henry like he was an interloper. Chris got to his feet and Henry took a step towards him.

"It's ok," Henry consoled, placing a gentle hand on Chris's arm.

"What... what's going on," Chris asked.

"How?" Andrew demanded.

"You have to go!" Leroy snarled.

"He is mine!" Quinn added.

They were all looking at Henry, not Chris.

"Henry?" Chris realised.

Was this another trick?

"Chris, I came to find you," Henry offered. "To help you get out of the nightmare."

"Are you real?" Chris asked.

REALLY REAL?

"I'm really real, Chris. I'm real," Henry promised. "Which is probably something a not-real person would say. But would a not-real person say that they were real and acknowledge that saying so is something a not-real person would say?"

"Alright, already. I believe you," Chris complained.

"He can't help you," Andrew snarled, but the voice was Mr Summer's.

"Oh shut up, will you?" Chris hit back hotly.

Chris nervously covered his dick, but felt silly. Henry was still naked and stood quite openly exposed.

"I've been trying to get to you," Henry asserted. "I've been sitting with you for days hoping I'd fall into the dream like I did before."

"Something is wrong with the world Mr Summer made," Chris replied. "He's weakening, I think."

"Why?" Henry pondered.

The rules of the dreams, the nightmares, the hypnoscape... they didn't always make sense, but they had a kind of internal logic. If Mr Summer was weakening, there must be a reason. It was obvious really. Mr Summer's latest effort was desperate because he knew. He knew what Chris was going to do.

"Because I'm gay, Henry," Chris confessed.

Henry looked stunned.

He wasn't surprised.

Henry knew, or thought he knew, already.

He was stunned because Chris had actually said it.

The whole room shook. Not just the room. Not just the empty swimming pool. The world. Small as it was, the whole world shook. Chris's confession was a cataclysm. Chris could feel it because he was still connected to the nightmare, but even Henry was aware of the change in tone. It was like being in a forest that went suddenly silent.

The concussion through the hypnoscape caused Andrew, Leroy and Quinn to stumble into each other. The naked bodies glued together. Arms and legs, nipples and buttocks and genitals seemed to melt and merge. A grotesque amalgamation happened like they were all made of clay, pressing and moulding and bending into one shape. The shape emerged as the man who had been haunting them.

"You can't do this!" Mr Summer growled as he materialised as the final result.

Gone was his bravado and his subterfuge; gone was his puppeteering from the shadows and his leering during degrading scenes; gone was his smugness and his haughtiness. Mr Summer was afraid. Mr Summer hadn't appeared, throwing down all his barriers, to threaten or bully or shame... he had come to beg.

"Don't!" Mr Summer pleaded. "Don't do this!"

"I'm gay," Chris said again.

Chris felt hot tears on his cheeks. But not from shame or fear. It relief. It was a relief to finally admit it!

Mr Summer suddenly reared back. It was like a rope around his waist had suddenly been pulled and he was swept off his feet. Mr Summer reached out towards Chris and Henry, but he was already being dragged into the darkness of a world that was closing in.

Then he was gone.

Mr Summer was gone.

But the world remained, in a fashion.

Chris was holding it up now. Just long enough for a few last things.

Chris turned to Henry because there were things he wanted to say. Now that he had opened up, he wanted to say them. He could say more later, in the real world.

"Is he dead?" Henry asked.

"Mr Summer was already dead, Henry," Chris reminded him.

"But is he really, really dead?" Henry asked.

"Let's not start that again," Chris smiled.

"I kinda figured out what your fear was, Chris," Henry admitted. "But then you were trapped here for two months and... what happened, man? What made you finally say it?"

"I've been too scared to say it. I tried to run away and where did it get me?" Chris asked rhetorically.

"Into the path of a speeding car?" Henry jested.

"Yea," Chris chuckled. "This whole thing was my doing. Mr Summer tormented me with my own fear, just like he did to you and the others. You guys faced your fears and moved on. It shouldn't have been this hard for me."

Chris looked disappointed in himself that it had taken so long.

"It's not easy for everyone to come out, Chris," Henry consoled. "Parents and faith, sense of masculinity, doubts, internalised phobia, fear of what others will think or do to us... there are so many reasons to be scared. Sometimes you just have to come out and say it."

Jack had said the exact same thing.

"I'm gay. And I didn't want to be," Chris said in the past tense.

"What changed?" Henry asked.

What had changed?

Jack.

"I met a man who's in love and he's so happy," Chris said, but he was sad about it. "I want to be in love, Henry. I want to love a man as much as Jack loves his husband."

"That sounds nice," Henry admitted. "Are you ok?"

Chris nodded.

"I'm ok," Chris said as he blew out a breath that he felt like he had been holding for years and years.

"Good," Henry said warmly and he offered Chris his hand. "C'mon... let's go home."

"I can't go..." Chris said.

"What do you mean? You faced your fear. You can leave anytime, Chris," Henry implored hurriedly. "You're strong and brave. It's going to be ok..."

Chris put a finger to Henry's lips.

"Shh!" Chris hissed. "I can't go until I say goodbye to my friend."

Henry looked at Chris in surprise.

"Jack helped me. I need to thank him. I need to say goodbye," Chris insisted.

"Do you promise you're coming back?" Henry asked.

"You saved me, Henry. You gave me the chance to finally tell my secret," Chris admitted. "I'll be right back."

Henry nodded and then vanished.

Just like that.

Chris walked to the edge of the pool where a ladder had materialised. He was no longer trapped in the swimming pool. Chris climbed the ladder and found himself outside on a warm and sunny beach. A few steps away, Jack was lying on a towel.

Jack was naked and the tide brought seawater close to his feet.

He looked quite content.

Chris walked towards him and sat on a towel beside him.

"I knew you could do it, Chris," Jack said confidently and yet he was tired. "Knew you'd come."

He was so tired.

"It's nearly over," Chris said sombrely.

THE LAST DREAM

"Your friend is gone," Jack said in a voice laden with fatigue.

Jack turned his head to look at Chris

He didn't even have the energy to groan with the effort it took. Or the pain caused. Chris was a beautiful boy. He was surprisingly sweet and vulnerable.

"Yea," Chris agreed shakily.

There was an inevitability to the coming moment that hurt Chris's heart.

Jack smiled at Chris. Jack's smile, Chris realised, was radiant and handsome. Jack's eyes were wide and moist, rheumy and almost vacant; they seemed not to really see Chris, or maybe they were seeing something else too?

Something beyond.

"It shouldn't have been that hard," Chris admitted. "You must think I'm a total loser for finding it so hard to admit I'm gay."

"You said it again!" Jack pointed out.

Jack literally pointed a finger at Chris as he responded.

Chris smiled just a little.

"I think I'm ok now," Chris confessed.

"So why are you still here?" Jack asked faintly.

Jack was fading

Chris didn't reply.

Jack felt so

Jack felt tired

He realised Chris hadn't responded, so Jack looked up to see a wretchedly sad expression on Chris's face. Chris was crying silently.

But not for himself.

Not for finally saying his secret and letting go of that burden.

Chris was crying for Jack.

"Oh god..." Jack gasped.

Suddenly. It was. Hard. To breathe

"It's ok... It's ok, I'm here for you," Chris wept as he wrapped his arms around Jack and held him in a warm, loving embrace of friendship.

"I'll stay with you Jack," Chris added.

Jack had said if Chris stayed, he wouldn't be scared.

So Chris stayed.

But now it really was the end and Jack wasn't so sure that was true

"Jack?" Chris said and it broke him from his reverie. "If you wanted to let go of your fear, to say goodbye... I could tell him for you. Jeremy, I mean."

Jack nodded his understanding

Chris pulled Jack close, his head lying on Chris's chest.

Jack was too exhausted to even hold his head up

Jack understood that what Chris was offering was to unburden himself

Jack had admitted he was scared of dying. But most of all he was scared of not getting to say goodbye to his husband. If he gave Chris the message, he could say goodbye. His fear would be gone. And Jack would be gone too

"Tell Jeremy..." Jack implored. "Remember A Tale of Two Cities? A dream all a dream, that ends in nothing... My life hasn't ended in nothing. As I lay down, the only thing I have in my heart is Jeremy. I love him more than anything. My whole life... I wish him to know that he inspired it."

"I'll tell him," Chris said. "Jeremy is so lucky to have you."

Jack didn't correct him on the tense of his comment which surely should have been past tense.

"I love him," Jack said in a voice that was dreamy and slow. "Jeremy was... the last dream of my soul. I was so lucky to have him."

"Fortune, goodnight; smile once more; turn thy wheel," Chris recalled.

A shadow cast across Jack, taking the sun out of his eyes so he could see a man in sunglasses and speedos standing over him. Jeremy

"Hhh," Jack breathed out.

Jack's face was one of pure joy, of such wonderful happiness that his husband was there

"Hey, babe. Do you want to come with me?" Jeremy asked with a smile.

Jack couldn't speak but he nodded and Jeremy knelt down and scooped him up

Chris was suddenly aware that the weight of Jack's head was no longer on his chest. His arm was no longer around Jack's shoulders.

Jack smiled and fell asleep as Jeremy carried him towards the water. Jeremy splashed into the warm sea and Chris watched as Jack (and Jeremy) either vanished or were swallowed by a wave

And then Jack was gone

His friend had died.

Chris cried until it was time to go and then wiped his eyes. Chris stood up and walked along the beach.

Chris was still in the dream, but he knew how to get out. Jack had told him there were some things you just had to come out and say. Now that Chris had said it, leaving the hypnoscape should be as easy as stepping through a door.

A door the colour of old blood with olive panels.

Chris didn't need to find the door. It had a habit of finding him.

Mr Summer was standing beside it.

Gone was Mr Summer's bravado. The man looked small and gaunt; diminished, starved and defeated. He looked like a pouting child. Chris understood that Mr Summer wasn't guarding the door. The man couldn't stop Chris leaving. His power over Chris was gone the moment Chris accepted his fear.

"You're still here," Mr Summer said bitterly.

The whole world was only here because Chris allowed it. Chris had wanted to say goodbye to Jack and when Jack accepted his fear and his fate, they were freed. No-one was trapped here anymore except, ironically, Mr Summer. He couldn't leave because he had no body to go back to.

What would happen to his mind when Chris left?

"Yes, I'm still here" Chris replied.

"Did you stay to gloat? To throw your... victory... in my face?" Mr Summer asked resentfully.

"It's really not about you," Chris replied dismissively. "It was about me. It was about Dante, Logan and Jack. It was about Henry, Andrew, Leroy and Quinn before that. We all faced our fears, even me... and I'm going home now."

Mr Summer wanted to say something.

He wouldn't though.

But Chris knew what it was.

Mr Summer wanted to plead for his afterlife.

"I pity you, Mr Summer," Chris said and his sympathy sounded like disdain. "You preyed on my friends and on our parents. You were abandoned by your family because of the things you did."

Mr Summer had been married once. His wife and baby boy could hardly stay around when he was arrested for abusing boys, and they never returned when he unjustly had the charges dismissed.

Mr Summer was alone and it was when Chris realised this that he realised Mr Summer was also lonely. Would his mind continue in this place with nothing to feed him? Would the awful man be trapped here forever?

Even after everything that happened, Chris rather hoped not. That would be a fate worse than death.

"I don't want your pity," Mr Summer spat.

"But I do. I pity you. You prey on boys. On weakness and vulnerability. On fear," Chris acknowledged. "What could you have done, I wonder, if you'd used your ability for good?"

Mr Summer looked at Chris like he was mad.

This little bastard had the audacity to pity and criticise him?

"I used your powers to help Jack," Chris said proudly.

"Your father will be so disappointed in you, you little freak," Mr Summer spat.

"No. I don't think he will," Chris said without having realised he was thinking it.

Mr Summer looked disappointed.

"But my fear was about me and how I felt. I can control that. I can't control how my dad will react..." Chris responded.

Chris stepped towards the door and could feel it pushing against him. It didn't want him to leave.

"But you're wrong, I think," Chris challenged the sinister man. "My dad loves me. I think he knows already and he loves me."

"You don't need to take that chance Chris. If he rejects you, if the world rejects you..." Mr Summer tried desperately. "In this world, you can shape it into any form you want. You need me."

Chris breathed out a dismissive laugh.

"I don't need you," Chris said gently.

Chris reached for the handle of the door.

"You needed me, Mr Summer. You needed all of us. Without us, you're nothing," Chris paraphrased Jack. "Literally... nothing..."

Finally standing up for himself, Chris turned the handle.

"If you think you'll ever be accepted..." Mr Summer snarled desperately. "You're dreaming."

"Or am I waking up?" Chris responded over his shoulder as he walked through the door.

END OF CHAPTER VI

AND NOW THE CONCLUSION...

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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.