Nightmares on Fig Leaf Street

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

Nightmares on Fig Leaf Street Chapter IV

I'M LATE, I'M LATE, I'M LATE!

DAY FIVE – WEDNESDAY

"You're going to be late!" his mum said.

"Wh- what?" Henry replied.

He opened his eyes – the room too bright and causing them to sting. Henry groaned and rolled over.

"Late, Henry. Really, really late!" his mum pestered. "It's half past seven!"

Henry's eyes flew open. Fuck! School started in twenty minutes.

Fearful of being late, because he was a dork with 100% attendance, Henry jumped out of bed. He hadn't showered. He hadn't packed his backpack for school. Where was his pen? No, the other pen? His good pen. He could write with any pen but he liked his good pen.

He was going to be late because of a pen.

And because he's slept through is alarm. But for real, where was that pen? He'd had it last night and put it back in his bag. Oh, it was in his backpack. Good.

Shit! He was still late? Why are you always in a rush when you're late? Why is it you can never find anything? Like his phone, Henry couldn't find his phone.

Henry had been rushing around his room looking for the pen and now he was rushing about looking for his phone. Maybe it was in his pocket? Oh, he didn't have any pockets because he was still in his underpants. He couldn't go to school in his undies!

Henry didn't want to be late but he kept not being able to find things. Like his stupid phone. Oh, there is was. On his bedside table where he'd looked three times already. Henry pulled shorts on over his underwear...

Then he remembered he'd slept in those undies all night. He had to change his underwear so off came the shorts and the underwear.

"Henry, you're mother says..." Johnny burst into the room.

He looked at his naked son and shook his head while Henry, feeling very small in front of his dad, covered the important bits from view. Caught naked by your dad? What a nightmare!

"Just hurry up, ok," his dad concluded with a tone of disappointment and vanished from the room, leaving the door open.

Great, now his dad was annoyed at him.

Henry choose white underwear that was a bit too big for him. Were these Andrew's? Andrew didn't usually were tighty whitey's – he did own some though. Underwear like that isn't embarrassing if you're hot.

Fuck! Henry was so late and he wasn't even dressed yet. Why is he thinking about underwear?

Henry pulled the shorts back on and put on socks and sneakers. He was still topless though – his milky brown skin felt sticky.

Not in that way.

Not in a cum way.

It was sticky with sweat.

Henry hadn't had a chance to shower and there was the issue of being late so he had no time.

The sense of urgency was stressful.

Henry hated being late for school. Or for anything. But especially school. Studying and doing well was important to him, he'd never missed a day of school, he'd never been late before. Shit, he was going to be late. He was going to let everyone down.

Henry grabbed a t-shirt that was clean and pulled it on. Then he grabbed his schoolbag and ran out of his room. Then he ran back in because his phone was still on his bedside table. Why hadn't he picked it up earlier? Finally, ready, Henry ran downstairs and hoped he could get a drive to school but no-one was home.

"What the fuck?" Henry grumbled.

His mum had shouted him just a little while ago. She hadn't said she was leaving. Dad had come in after that and Hery hadn't heard him leave either. How long ago was it anyway? How long did he have to get to school? He didn't want to be late.

He looked at the time and he only had three or eight minutes to get there.

Henry ran for the door and started running.

Henry didn't share his stepbrother's interest in sports but he could run quite well. He ran past the man standing on the corner – in a suit and tie on a hot morning.

That was weird.

The man... Henry thought he recognised him... or... wait...

One of his sneakers came off in Henry's haste, flicking behind him and coming to a stop on the sidewalk. Henry's run became lopsided as he continued on towards school because he didn't have time to go back for his sneaker or he'd be late and maybe he was already late?

Luckily or unluckily the other sneaker fell off too.

His run was no longer lopsided but why were his sneakers coming off? Maybe they were Andrew's – it was like they didn't fit. If running in his socks on the hard ground hurt his feet, Henry didn't notice. The ground felt fine as he didn't break stride, running for school and charging past houses on both sides of the street.

He felt his shorts slip next and didn't react fast enough to catch them before they fell straight down his skinny legs. Henry thought for sure he'd trip right over them but he seemed to just run out of them, neither foot snagging, which left them on the sidewalk as he continued on to school.

He was going to go to school in his just a t-shirt and underpants?

That was crazy!

But if he stopped or went back, he'd be late? What was the time? He had to get to school. His mum would be disappointed in him if he was late and he'd loss his perfect attendance record. He didn't want to fail now when he was in Senior year.

Henry was breathing hard now and sweating. He pulled his t-shirt off to wipe his face and chest and it flew out of his hands on a squall. Now he was left with nothing but his underwear and socks.

Tight white underpants.

They weren't even tight. They were too big for him. They must be Andrew's.

They were frayed and sagged low on Henry's hips as he ran and ran. How long had he been running?

Fuck! Nearly naked and he was late. Could this get any worse?

There were jeers as he got nearer school. Maybe he wasn't going to be late if lots of other kids were still arriving. But now they could see him in just his underwear.

"Nice panties."

"Tighty whitey's?"

"Ha ha ha."

"Look at his thighs."

"Is it cold today or does Henry just have a teeny weenie?"

Maybe he could call Andrew and ask to borrow... fuck, where was his phone? It must have been in his shorts. And his bag... he didn't even remember losing that... what the fuck was going on?

Suddenly, Henry felt gravity tugging at the underwear.

"Oh no!" Henry said just in time to feel the undies slipping down his legs and exposing him to everyone.

There was laughter and more comments about his dick being small. It was average. It was a totally normal dick. He wanted to tell everyone it was a totally normal, not hard dick. The little button of his flaccid shaft stuck out a couple of inches from his black pubes.

Fuck, he was naked outside school. No clothes, no phone and no pen.

"Don't cover up."

The voice was velvety and came from nowhere but Henry obeyed.

"Not much to cover up anyway."

That was unfair.

Henry carried on walking towards the school gates, his bare legs and bum could feel the coolness of the air while the sun shone on him to illuminate his nudity with embarrassing clarity. The comments of his school peers resumed as he passed through the throng.

"He smells like he hasn't washed."

"He looks so dumb coming to school like this."

"You need to eat more protein!"

Ok, as heckles went, that one was lame but it did remind Henry that he hadn't eaten. He was... hungry.

"I know what I'd like to eat, Henry. I'm so hungry," said a voice from behind him.

Henry turned to see the man from the corner of Fig Leaf Street and Kruger Avenue. Henry tried to remember something he'd forgotten. The man wasn't dressed in a shirt and tie anymore. He was dressed in black slacks and a school polo shirt.

"What are you?" Henry asked as the realisation hit him.

He was dreaming again.

How hadn't he noticed? Dreams were like that – funny, odd, inconsistent and sometimes they masqueraded as a real experience. It wasn't until you realised it was a dream that you realised it was a nightmare.

"School is very important to you, Henry. Doing well, being on time..." the man teased him.

"You're just some dirty pervert who likes chasing teenage boys, aren't you? Ricky!" Henry interrupted and he threw the name at the man, hoping for a reaction.

The man's face twisted with anger but he was impressed – surprised but impressed – that Henry challenged him. He thought Henry was just a weakling – the runt of the litter.

"...You don't want to disappoint your family. They'll abandon you... like your father did,"

"Why are you coming after me and my friends?" Henry asked.

"Your friends? They're not here, are they?" the man replied darkly. "Because they left you. Couldn't get rid of you fast enough. No-one believed you and now you're all alone."

"I'm not... I don't want to be alone..." Henry admitted fearfully.

"Your little dick is all shrivelled up at the thought of it. Your balls have pulled back inside, you loser," the man derided the boy.

Henry could hear laughing and comments all around him, too indistinct to make out properly.

"No! No, why are you after us?" Henry demanded fretfully.

Henry was trying to remember falling asleep but couldn't.

The yearbook!

His dad's yearbook.

Coach.

Ricky.

It can't be, he's dead.

"This is just a nightmare," Henry protested as he looked around.

He was still afraid of the exposure but it wasn't so bad once he took control of the unreality of it.

"I'm not really naked outside," Henry said.

The grin, that horrible grin, broke across the man's face. The grotesque mask of amusement that split his face from ear to ear and revealed a row of sharp, shark-like teeth. And then he laughed at Henry.

The man just laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and

The sound of a car horn jolted Henry awake and he jumped out of the way of a car as it braked to avoid him.

"Pervert!"

Henry was outside naked. He was really naked and really outside.

The car moved away and Henry looked in both directions. Fuck! The roads were empty save for the car that had just missed him. But being barefoot and nude outside was bad. Henry covered his genitals and felt cum in his pubes. Was it his own? Had it come out of the dream? He could taste it in his mouth too like the first dream he'd had when all this had started. Henry realised he was only a few streets from home so he started running. Then his bare feet hurt and dropped his speed to a powerwalk. They still hurt, only he was moving slower. Fuck!

Henry's hands remained cupped around his genitals and looked around hoping no-one would see him. Even though his penis and testicles were covered, it was obvious he was naked. It was obvious he was a skinny boy; his bum and legs were bare and his chest felt warm in the humidity.

Henry hoped that if anyone else saw him like the driver of the car had, they wouldn't recognise him and hoping he could get home before people started leaving for school or work. What time was it? The sky was still midnight blue and peppered with dots of light – not yet sunrise but coming soon.

Henry turned onto Fig Leaf Street and passed Leroy's house – it was dark so any hope of rousing help there was pointless. Chris's house was dark too. Everyone still in bed, he guessed. Henry made it all the way to his front door without being seen (at least as far as he knew). He tired the front door but it was still locked. Fuck!

Henry went around the side of the house. How would he explain why he was bare ass naked outside? The backdoor was open and Henry slipped inside. Had Henry opened it in his sleep? Henry didn't understand anything anymore – after all, his stepbrother's dream had conjured a bathtub full of semen. Henry had assumed cum was a common factor and it still appeared to be but then he'd woken up outside naked.

Henry wondered if any of the others would admit to things manifesting things in reality? Like cum or open doors.

The house was still quiet and the clock ready 04:53 so Henry went back to his bedroom and lay down. He was tired now or he thought he was. He could sleep for another couple of hours. But what if he wound up naked outside again or something worse happened? The experience should have put him off going to sleep but Henry couldn't stay away.

He fell asleep.

He woke up.

He wished he hadn't slept.

MORNING HAS BROKEN

Henry woke up tired but he wasn't late. He checked the time three times just to make sure and then lay in bed contemplating the day and his own exhaustion. Henry had dreamed after returning to bed but it was far away and he couldn't remember it. Something about being locked out?

It felt like a regular dream though and not one of the carefully constructed nightmares that continued to perplex him.

Morning had broken and it wasn't the only thing that was broken. Henry felt sluggish and he ached with fatigue.

Reluctantly, Henry got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a shower. It wasn't until he stripped that he found something amiss. His penis was encased in a cage. He tried to prise it off but they were designed to not come off like that and this one was particularly special – there was no key.

First the mid-night walk and now this? Had Henry appeared naked a few streets away because he'd stood up to the nightmare man? Because he'd boasted it was just a dream and he wasn't really outside naked? Or had the man, the coach, Ricky, already made the mid-night walk happen? Had Henry walked outside nude or had the dream transported him there? Manifesting a new location as well as spunk in his mouth?

And now a chastity cage had manifested. This felt very much like a punishment.

Henry didn't know what the fuck he was going to do but he had to figure out what was causing these dreams, who the man was and, most importantly, how to stop it. He tried to stay calm about the chastity cage. No-one would even know it was there as long as he kept his pants on.

Henry got dressed and found the kitchen was occupied but quiet.

Andrew was chewing robotically, barely tasting his cereal and looking like he had slept as badly as Henry. His mom and dad were alert enough but Johnny looked stressed and Henry wasn't brave enough to ask him if he'd moved the yearbook.

"Is everyone ok?" Siti Ng asked.

"Everything is fine, my love. Why do you ask?" Johnny replied first.

"Everyone is quiet. The boys look like zombies and you... what's wrong?" she asked him.

She tucked a loose strand of black hair behind her ear and looked at him with big brown eyes. Henry had her eyes.

"Work. Busy," Johnny said evasively.

"You always have work and you're always busy," she replied. "Is this about Sebastian and Donald?"

Sebastian Booth was Chris's dad and lived next door, Donald Heard was Leroy's dad and lived a few doors down. They had been friends since school – along with Henry's absentee father and Quinn's dad.

"What about them?" Johnny asked tightly.

"You've been on the phone to them every day since the weekend," Siti commented harmlessly.

"Seb is planning a consecration ceremony for the new sports hall at the school and Don is site manager. They were just checking with me about security in case people come along and get rowdy," Johnny said.

Siti seemed satisfied with this but Henry felt there was something else not being said.

"And you boys? Are you getting enough sleep?" she mothered them.

"Bad dreams," Andrew replied succinctly.

"Not good dreams," Henry added.

"I need to go," Johnny said and excused himself.

Siti, having finished night shift, was going to spend the day catching up on chores that for some reason three men were unable to do.

"Andrew?" Henry said in a hushed voice, sitting down to eat his own breakfast.

"What do you want?" Andrew asked shortly – not his usual self.

"I had a nightmare last night. I was late for school and kept getting delayed..." Henry explained.

"Oh no, that sounds terrible," Andrew mocked him.

"My clothes came off and everyone was mean and no-one would help me," Henry added.

"I'll always help you," Andrew promised – a little more like himself.

"Yea," Henry replied. "I woke up three streets away. Naked."

"Really?" Andrew perked up, chuckling. "Did anyone see you? Are you ok?"

"Yea. The thing is... I got home and fell asleep again and when I woke up..." Henry hesitated. "Did you have a nightmare? You told mom you had a bad dream."

"I don't remember it," Andrew said. "That coach was there again. The sinister man keeps appearing as a high school coach."

"I think he might be a real coach," Henry offered animatedly.

"Don't recognise him. Sports are kinda my thing," Andrew debunked the theory.

"I mean a real coach but not one of ours. I think... I think dad knows who he is so maybe the man was his coach?" Henry said.

"You said this yesterday. That he's hiding things," Andrew said defensively. "I don't like you saying that. Besides, the guy looks about the same age as dad. If he was dad's coach, he'd be nearly sixty."

"Come with me a minute," Henry replied.

Andrew dutifully followed but he was sluggish with fatigue. Henry took him into the family room and walked over to the bookshelf.

"What do you see?" Henry asked.

"Books?" Andrew asked sarcastically.

"Try again," Henry said patiently.

After a few seconds, Henry ran his finger along the shelf until he reached the gap he'd noticed in the middle of the night. He slipped his finger into the gap to emphasise the missing volume.

"Dad's yearbook is gone," Henry said. "And he reacted really badly when you described the man in your dream..."

"I'm not doing this, Henry. I won't let you accuse dad of hiding things and lying to us," Andrew said tersely.

Henry watched his stepbrother leave the room but just as he was about to walk out, Andrew turned back. His brother sighed with frustration.

"The library keeps copies of the yearbooks. Class of 2000," Andrew offered.

Chris also felt broken from not enough sleep.

He was staggering into the kitchen, following the sounds of his parent's voices. He had woken up from his nightmare – the one had had briefly shared with Quinn – and felt cum between his ass cheeks. He had showered and jerked off (not necessarily in that order) and then tried to face the day ahead with exhaustion and an increasing sense of defeat.

"I responded to the letter from that horrible woman," said Sebastian as Chris walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Chris," his mom said before answering her husband. "What horrible woman?"

"The `moms for liberty' woman," Sebastian replied.

He had a way of speaking that communicated the lowercase letters and the inverted commas without mimicking the quote marks.

"They're looking for local figures in the community to support their campaign to remove library books," Sebastian reminded his wife.

As a community priest, Sebastian Booth was well liked and regarded. He did lots of work for charity, his doors were always open, he did lots of outreach for homeless and impoverished people and he never turned anyone way for being different. He was a nauseatingly modern Catholic and Chris loved his dad; Chris also resented his dad's accepting nature. Perhaps because that nature had never been tested and Chris didn't know how to talk his dad about his feelings about...

"Oh, that horrible woman," she responded. "Did you tell her to go to hell?"

"I did not," Sebastian laughed. "I was a little more polite than that."

"Is `fuck off and die' really more polite, dear?" she responded again.

"I suggested that when my son read Charlotte's Web it didn't turn him into a spider... though Winnie the Pooh started something of a honey obsession," Sebastian winked at his son who was spreading honey on toast. "I don't think we need to worry about books that teach about the existence of homosexuals, black people or foreigners."

"Are you sure, Seb?" his wife asked seriously. "Son... I don't know how to break this to you but you do know black people exist, don't you?"

"Yes mom," Chris replied.

"And you know we made them work for free for a hundred years?" she probed.

"Yes," Chris replied though he'd never been very good at history.

"He knows! Books have a lot to answer for," she shook her head.

Chris was subdued but his parents were good and kind people and their niceness was really aggravating. Chris really couldn't be bothered with it. He wondered what it was about kindness that he found to infuriating? Why was he so angry?

"Are you ok, Chris?" his dad asked.

"I'm tired," he replied vaguely.

"I heard you in the middle of the night. Mumbling in your sleep," his dad said.

"Must have been dreaming," Chris replied vaguely.

"I had a dream and the spirit is anxious to understand the dream," Sebastian replied.

"Daniel, chapter two verse three," Chris identified reflexively.

"Yes," his dad said. "You know... Henry and Andrew have been having nightmares. Johnny told me."

Chris was surprised to hear his neighbours names mentioned but was wary of reading too much into it. Chris was suspicious given the ridiculous theory of Henry's that they were all connected by dreams about the same figure. His dad probably just meant the boys next door were dreaming too.

"Everyone has nightmares sometimes," Chris replied.

"If your spirit is anxious to understand them, you could tell me about them?" Sebastian Booth offered.

"No thanks," Chris said. "I gotta go."

"You can tell me about other things too, Chris. If you have anything on your mind?" Seb added gently.

"I know. There's nothing I want to talk about," Chris replied honestly.

Chris hadn't even closed the front door, schoolbag over his shoulder, when he saw Quinn at the bottom of the drive. Chris sulkily made his way towards the boy who usually went next door to call on Henry in the morning to walk to school together.

"Chris. Hi. Good morning," Quinn said.

"Hi," Chris replied.

"Yea. Hey," Quinn seemed to repeat himself. "So... that nightmare last night?"

Chris just looked at him.

Chris didn't want to have this conversation. There was no problem so big that if you just ignored it, it would go away. Dreams? What dreams? Nightmares? What nightmares? Crippling anxiety about his sexuality? Don't know what you're on about?

"You... were there?" Quinn posed it as a question, his uncertainty needing reassurance.

"I didn't have any dreams," Chris lied.

"Oh? I mean... I was dreaming about being bullied and you came in..." Quinn said.

Chris was glad that Quinn didn't comment on his nudity.

"You were naked and I saw your penis which I only mention because it's in the top three penises I've seen for real," Quinn added – not admitting that it was in the top three because he'd only seen three and did a dream penis count as for real?

"I don't believe this dream nonsense," Chris said angrily.

Quinn looked taken aback and Chris felt a pang of guilt that he'd need to absolve through confession later.

"The thing is... Chris..." Quinn's effervescent enthusiasm had expired and been replaced with something else.

"What is it?" Chris encouraged, the good boy in him coming forth.

"There's something on my back," Quinn said.

Quinn turned around, slipping his schoolbag from his shoulder and lifting his t-shirt to reveal his thin, pale, smooth back. It was pretty. Then Chris dismissed the sexual interest when he saw what Quinn was showing him. On Quinn's back was the faded outline of a crudely drawn penis and above it a single word: FAGGOT.

The word written on Quinn's back in the dream had somehow manifest in reality.

"I saw it in the mirror this morning. Tried to scrub it off," Quinn admitted and dropped his shirt.

"You did it yourself?" Chris suggested but his tone made clear he didn't believe that.

"How? I can't write or draw this good when I'm facing forward never mind on my own back," Quinn confessed. "It happened in the dream and then it came out in reality. I also woke up with cum-stained boxers in my mouth."

"How? Why is this happening?" Chris asked – finally not dismissing it out of hand.

"I don't know. Look, I know you don't really believe in this but maybe if we all talk about our nightmares we can figure out why we're having them?" Quinn suggested.

"No. No, I can't," Chris said. "I can't talk about them. But I'll help you."

"Ok. Cool," Quinn smiled and Chris noticed he had cute canine teeth when he smiled. "Well, that's a start."

WITNESSES FOR THE PERSECUTION

Leroy could hardly keep his eyes open.

He'd already been admonished in three classes and when he went to football practice the coach asked if he was "playing with his fucking eyes closed."

"Sorry coach, my head's not really in it today," Leroy admitted.

"That's not like you. What's wrong? Andrew's playing like crap too," Coach Torrance said.

"Didn't sleep last night, sir," Leroy admitted because a bad lie would just piss him off more.

Leroy punctuated the moment with a yawn that brought tears to his eyes.

"Just go sit down, will you," Coach Torrance said exasperatedly.

As if there wasn't another dozen guys on the field for him to berate. Leroy sat down on a bench at the side of the field – sweating under the heavy uniform. He took the helmet off so he could breathe easier and so the cool air could wash over his face.

"Do you need me to repeat the question?"

"Pardon?" Leroy responded.

He hadn't even noticed his eyes were closed but now that they were open he was confused. Leroy was no longer sitting beside the football field and no longer dressed in his cleats, jersey and pads. He was wearing a dark blue suit and he was sitting in a courtroom. Leroy was filled with dread.

"I'll take that as a yes. Do you recognise Mr Merrin because he recognises you," said a lawyer.

"He does?" Leroy replied with bewilderment.

"He claims he saw you robbing the grocery store in question on the night in question," the man accused.

"What! No way. I wouldn't do that. I didn't do that," Leroy protested desperately.

"Mr Heard, we have video evidence, the firearm with fingerprints on it and a witness," the lawyer laid it out.

"No! I didn't do anything," Leroy insisted.

He didn't. He really didn't! Leroy didn't own a gun, though his father did, and had never learned to shoot. Leroy felt that the mass shooting industry in America already had too many gun owners who deludedly imagined themselves going Captain America on someone's ass. As for the myth that guns kept people safe, Leroy was a black eighteen-year-old male in America.

The idea that possessing a gun would make him safe was absurd.

"Mr Heard, this isn't some trivial case like crossing state lines with a firearm that's not registered to you while you're underage to possess it and then defending property that doesn't belong to you from people you hate who you then shoot during a scenario that could easily have been avoided," the lawyer said. "This is a grocery store robbery."

"But I'm innocent," Leroy insisted.

"Mr Merrin was working in the store on the night in question. He saw you," the lawyer said.

"He's wrong. I don't even know what store you're talking about. I don't know who Mr Merrin is," Leroy said.

Was there something about the lawyer that seemed familiar?

The black suit and tie, the white shirt.

The grin.

The sultry voice.

"Mr Heard. You know quite nicely what store we're talking about," the man replied in a haughty tone "You entered the store on May twenty third, you brandished a firearm and your penis and then you escaped with a thousand dollars."

"I brandished my what?" Leroy responded.

"You deny you have ever seen Mr Merrin, you deny you were in the store, you deny the firearm. Do you also deny being naked and having a big penis?" the lawyer said sarcastically.

There was a chuckle around the courtroom.

"Well, no. I do..." Leroy replied vainly.

"You don't deny it? Do you also remember the firearm now?" he interrupted.

"No. That's not what I was going to say," Leroy objected.

Where was his lawyer to say "objection your honour?" and other courtroom things?

"Perhaps you were going to boast about your penis?" the lawyer said.

"I wasn't going to boast. You asked," Leroy clarified.

"Well, your penis seems to be the only thing you're willing to be honest about," the man said.

He really was familiar. Had Leroy seen the man before?

"Show us," the lawyer said.

"Show you?" Leroy repeated.

"Stand up and show us your penis, Mr Heard. So the jury can judge for themselves if you are telling the truth," the prosecutor said.

"The truth about having a big penis?" Leroy asked.

"No, stupid! The truth about being in the store. Or not being in the store as you claim," the lawyer said. "Now, show us your penis and the witness will tell us if he recognises it."

"Recognises it!" Leroy exclaimed – he really didn't want to strip.

It was bad enough he had been accused and bad enough he was in court. Leroy cherished his reputation. He was a good guy. He couldn't afford for his character to be dismantled.

"Do it now, please," the lawyer insisted.

Against his best judgement, indeed against all logic and propriety, Leroy stood up and unzipped his pants. He pulled down the front of his underwear and removed his penis from the fly. It was three and a half inches of floppy male meat.

"Is this the penis you saw in the store?" the lawyer asked the witness.

This wasn't how trials worked, was it? Leroy in the witness box and the accuser answering questions from the plaintiffs table?

"I can't really tell," Mr Merrin replied. "He was naked when I saw him and this guy is..."

"Not naked?" the prosecutor completed the sentence.

"Yes, exactly," Mr Merrin answered stupidly.

"This is ridiculous..." Leroy said.

"You think the rule of law is ridiculous? Do you have no respect for the criminal justice system, Mr Heard? Perhaps you think your above it because of wokeness?" the lawyer said.

"I... what... that doesn't even make sense," Leroy protested.

"You can't Critical Race Theory you're way out of this," the lawyer admonished him.

Leroy groaned – obnoxious, racist really will just shoehorn phrases into a sentence nowadays whether makes sense or not.

"Is CRT a verb now?" Leroy asked – none of this made sense.

"If you want to clear your name, you should comply," the prosecutor smirked.

Comply. Boys like Leroy were always told to comply.

"Fine. What do you want me to do?" Leroy asked.

"Come forward where we can all see you," the man replied. "And remove all your clothes."

Leroy was halfway out the witness box when he stopped and shrank into himself. This was going to be humiliating. But he didn't want to have a criminal record – especially for something he didn't do. Was stripping naked in a courtroom any less demeaning to his reputation?

Leroy stood in front of the witness box, in front of the lawyer and Mr Merrin and the gallery of men who were observing him with interest, and removed his jacket.

Leroy felt mortified as he removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his hot, muscular chest. He slipped off his shoes and pulled off his socks. It was only now that he remembered his penis was still sticking out the fly of his pants, obscenely exposed. It was about to be even more obscenely exposed.

Leroy unfastened the pants and pushed them down to his ankles. His penis flopped over the top of his underwear so he pushed them down too. Finally, Leroy slipped the shirt from his shoulders and stepped out of the pants and underwear.

He was now totally naked in the courtroom and thoroughly embarrassed.

"Now do you recognise him?" the prosecutor asked Mr Merrin.

"Hmmm..." Mr Merrin replied. "I'm not sure. He was erect at the time."

"No. Come on. This is unfair," Leroy protested.

The young man already knew where this was going.

"Some would say the armed robbery of local store, a business that contributes to the community, was unfair?" the lawyer responded. "It's not all about you, you know."

"Maybe it's him, like I said. He was aroused at the time of the robbery," Mr Merrin said.

"Mr Heard, please make yourself aroused so we can eliminate you as a suspect," the lawyer said.

Where was Leroy's lawyer? Where was the objection?

"I object," Leroy said.

"You're not being objectified, I can assure you," the prosecutor said.

"That's not what I meant," Leroy responded.

"Then you should have been clearer. You can't just cancel accusations because you don't like them," the lawyer said. "Now, make yourself hard now, Mr Heard."

Leroy grabbed his dick and started to massage it.

It warmed within a few seconds and grew firm.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. One minute Leroy was a respectable young man with a bright future and the next he was an accused criminal, butt naked and wanking in a packed courtroom.

Leroy stroked the shaft and the dick turned from warm to hot and from firm to hard. His cock was seven and a half inches when hard. He kept stroking it for an extra minute to make sure it was fully hard and because he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"You like that don't you? You like people looking at you. Admiring you. You like having a big cock. You like showing it off. Show it to me. I'm so hungry for it. Feed me your big dick energy."

Leroy looked up, expecting to see the lips of the lawyer moving be the voice, although clearly that of the lawyer, was disembodied.

"Mr Merrin, in your statement you said the guy in the store was waving his cock around. I think it's called windmilling?" the prosecutor asked.

"That's right," Mr Merrin agreed. "Maybe if he waved it around a bit?"

Leroy swung his cock around, the head sending off a few flecks of precum.

"And he was masturbating," Mr Merrin added.

Leroy alternated between thumping his cock and swinging it around in front of the assembled witnesses and spectators. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to an orgasm but he couldn't stop himself. Leroy settled into a rhythmic, public routine of self-pleasure. His cock was long and thick and veiny – the head large and round.

As Leroy masturbated in the courtroom, he felt a sense of defeat. Even if he cleared his name, he had still been accused, still lowered himself in an effort to prove his innocence. Leroy grunted as he shot cum onto the floor of the courtroom. His cock gushed spunk, spraying onto the floor like five or six loads all at once were being released.

Leroy's fingers squeezed every last drop out from the erect member.

"I knew you were a disgusting pervert. You wanted this. People like you pretend you don't but you do. You liked it. You're sick for liking it."

Leroy looked into the eyes of the lawyer. Again he hadn't spoken but it had been his voice. Mocking and blaming and making Leroy feel guilt for being a victim.

"You know, now that I think about it," Mr Merrin said. "I'm not sure he was the armed robber."

"Really?" Leroy said with relief.

He was still naked and humiliated and logic seemed to have abdicated because he didn't cover up despite his exposure.

"How can you be sure this isn't the person who robbed your store?" the lawyer asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Well, the robber was older. He was shorter. He had ginger hair. Also, he wasn't black or naked. I don't think he had a gun, now that I think about it. Sorry, easy mistake to make," Mr Merrin said.

Leroy felt total despair – he had degraded himself to prove his innocence, to prove his good standing. Innocent or not, his reputation and respect had been destroyed.

"Very well, Mr Heard you are dismissed," the lawyer said.

Wasn't it the judge who usually dismissed witnesses?

"Bailiff, please place Mr Heard under arrest," the prosecutor said.

"What? Why? You just said..." Leroy started to say.

"You didn't rob the store but your behaviour in court is unacceptable. Stripping naked, exposing your penis, masturbating. Disgusting," the lawyer said. "Exhibition like this breaks multiple public decency laws."

"You told me to do those things," Leroy reminded him.

Leroy had done everything that had been asked of him. Complied. Answered every question. Told the truth. He had even done things that were mortifying but he had obeyed. He had done those things with witnesses to every persecution and he was still going to be made to pay.

"Make sure you cuff his hands behind his back. And take him out the main entrance where the media are waiting," the prosecutor said.

"No. Please don't," Leroy cried. "I didn't do anything wrong. I'm a good person."

Leroy's hands were secured behind his back and he felt himself inevitably drawn to the doors of the courtroom. The eyes of the witnesses and the spectators followed him; they could see him up close as he was escorted from the room.

Leroy was naked, his cock was a floppy six and a half inches that was smeared with cum. Everyone was going to see him. He'd be ruined...

WOKENESS

Leroy woke up with a start.

He was outside at school, sitting on the bench beside the football field. It was bright and warm and Leroy was sweating. He felt something wet in his lap and when he touched his crotch, he felt sludge.

He'd cum in his pants.

The stain was obvious and it looked like a water hose and gone off.

Leroy could remember every moment of the dream – the sarcasm, the mockery, the condescension, the injustice and the cruelty. Leroy had expected to be treated fairly, was that asking so much? Was it really asking too much to expect that he be treated with equity and that unfairness be challenged?

Leroy got up, trying to cover his crotch without bringing too much attention to it. He got back to the locker room alone and when he looked at the time, Leroy realised practice would be over very soon. He only had a few minutes to shower the spunk from his groin before the rest of the team came in to shower too.

Leroy stripped as quickly as he could.

He stuffed everything into a sports back and that into his locker. Leroy's crotch was smeared with cum, the hairs on his thighs and balls and the pubes above his penis was clogged and sticky with drying semen. Leroy got into the shower and washed all the disgusting evidence of his ejaculation away.

Leroy closed his eyes, placing his hands on the wall and looking up into the showerhead.

"I always love it when boys get in position," said a voice behind him.

Leroy spun around to see a man in a school coaching uniform – cap, jacket and polo shirt with the school logo and tan slacks.

"Thank you for feeding me, Leroy," the man said.

"What are you?" Leroy asked.

Not who. What. What kind of man, if he was a man, could control dreams and manifest things in reality. What kind of man would do these things to an eighteen year old?

"I'm your worst nightmare," the man replied with a sneer.

Leroy gave a start, like when you get at falling sensation even when you're standing still. Suddenly he was facing the shower wall again, the water cascading over his head, his legs slightly parted and his penis dangling long but clean.

He had fallen asleep again but when? After waking up on the bench outside or had he dreamed that part? Had he sleepwalked into the shower?

Leroy scrubbed his face and looked around. He was alone but the sound of approaching voices signalled the team was coming in. A few seconds later Leroy was joined in the shower by a dozen naked eighteen year olds.

"Are you ok?" Andrew asked.

His friend stood beside him as he lathered his chest and reached for the bits down below. Leroy was a straight boy and it was with a sense of unease that he recognised the sexual intimidation of the man from the dream. Leroy half expected to discover he was still dreaming again.

"I dunno," Leroy replied bad temperedly.

Andrew looked at him with surprise. Most of the time people lied and said they were fine. Leroy and Andrew rarely fell out so the anger in his friend's voice was unsettling.

"I really don't know," Leroy added before leaving the showers and all the naked boys therein.

END OF CHAPTER IV

TO BE CONTINUED...

If you're enjoying the more fantastic elements of this story, check out The SEX Men; it's a comic book inspired story involving superpowers, smut, comedy, drama and embarrassment.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/the-sex-men/

Feedback and comments are my only compensation:

Blogger: https://niftyencomiums.blogspot.com (updated weekly with teasers for the next chapter)

Discord username: niftyencomiums

Email: niftyencomiums@gmail.com

Reblogme: https://niftyencomiums.reblogme.com/

Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/user/niftyencomiums

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/niftyguy

Twitter: @niftyencomiums1

Readers are reminded that Nifty is free because of kind donations from site users. Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/

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.