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 III

FRONT WINDOW

DAY FOUR – TUESDAY

Leroy moaned as best he could but only ended up making his chin wet.

The ball gag in his mouth was big, bright and red. It was secured around Leroy's head with a black leather strap and stopped the eighteen year old from talking or making much more noise than an impotent groan.

Leroy was totally naked, with a ball gag in his mouth and a drool spilling from his mouth.

His ankles were secured with leather straps too which were attached to a metal rod that was two and a half feet (about three quarters metre) long. The result was his legs were spread wide and he was on his tiptoes.

Finally, Leroy's arms were secured above his head, spread to expose his armpits and prevent him from covering up. The tension on the arms was just enough to lift him onto his tiptoes. The footballer felt thoroughly humiliated by his exposure.

Leroy didn't mind being naked in the locker room or in his own bedroom but he was spreadeagled at school – facing out of the second-floor window that overlooked the main courtyard. Everyone or anyone could see him like this. What would they think of him? Would they think he was a pervert? Would he be expelled? His reputation had been hard fought for.

Now everyone in the school, anyone who walked past the school, would see his dick. It was flaccid but fat, and his balls, big and full.

It was a bright morning and Leroy's classmates were just arriving to start the school day when they saw the hot stud, in the window and looked up at him. They pointed and laughed, cheered and clapped. Leroy looked around wildly, pulling at the restraints without success. It wasn't the exposure that bothered him... well, the exposure did bother him but his greatest fear was more existential.

Leroy's greatest fear was the loss of respect or the loss of status he had worked so hard for.

Leroy was an eighteen-year-old black guy who had to work twice as hard in class to achieve the same as classmates with less melanin. There were those who saw him as a dumb jock and treated him that way too. He wasn't dumb though. He had a great memory that he used to exercise by joining the drama club but he got tired of playing Othello. He gained respect as a footballer in a way other activities had never achieved for him. Leroy worked so hard for their respect and now his classmates were seeing him exposed, he would be an object of mockery.

Then he felt a hand on his ass.

Leroy moaned again and looked around as far as his neck could turn. A man was standing behind him and groping him. Who was this guy? The man wearing tan-coloured slacks and a white polo shirt; he looked like a youth pastor except for the football crest on the left breast. A coach?

The logo didn't look quite right though; it was as if it was a new design... or maybe an old one?

"Looking good, champ," the man said.

Leroy had a sense of déjà vu. Had he met this man before or seen him somewhere?

"What the fuck? What's going on?" Leroy said – at least that's what he tried to say but it came out unintelligible.

Leroy didn't know how he'd got here and yet that wasn't a relevant issue his brain chose to explore. As much as before rousing to this mortifying exposure should have been relevant, it was also unimportant. Nightmares, if Leroy had realised that's what was going on, were like that.

Leroy tried to pull his legs up to cover his exposed penis from view but couldn't because of the spreader bar.

"People like you should learn how to talk properly," the man said – insultingly but not putting in much effort.

The man's hand continued to caress Leroy's ass and despite himself, he was getting hard. A crowd was gathering down below and more people were looking up at his humiliating exposure. Now he was even getting hard and Leroy felt like he was getting jerked off except there was no hand near his cock. His erection was an impressive seven and a half inches.

"Wow, that's big, big boy," the man said. "I think we might have found you a new nickname."

Leroy mumbled through the gag.

"Fuck you!" he tried to say.

"I just might," the man replied.

Leroy was starting to tremble and thrust impotently into the air as he tried to stimulate himself further. It felt important that he cum even while he was gripped by the fear of exposure, humiliation, and diminishment before his classmates. Leroy already felt like he had lost all his credibility – it was the ultimate nightmare.

If he could cum, it would all be over, that was what he told himself. It was as if he had been told cumming was important. So Leroy kept thrusting his cock into the air even though, down below, everyone could see him. Leroy could see himself reflected in the glass – his nudity, his big cock, the man beside him...

Except, there was no man reflected in the glass.

Leroy freaked out, writhing against his restraints but he could not free himself. His exposure endured, his arms stretched above his head as the man who wasn't there move his hands from Leroy's butt to his pits and nipples. Leroy could see the man to look at him but there was no reflection?

It was the nipples that sent Leroy over the edge – his hard-on pulsing as if the shaft was being massaged and his head sucked. Leroy shot ropes of cum onto the window and below, he saw the reaction of his classmates. Some cheered enthusiastically but at the expense of his mortifying display and others offered a slow, sarcastic clap.

As embarrassed as Leroy was, it was the loss of respect that most troubled him and the nightmare had tapped into... nightmare? Was he dreaming? Realising it was a dream, it seemed so obvious now. The man beside finally stopped touching him but he made some pretty heavy eye contact.

"Are you going to eat that?" the man said of the spray of cum on the glass.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Leroy asked.

The ball gag was inexplicably gone.

"I'm hungry. So hungry," he replied.

The man dropped to his knees and pushed in front of Leroy's legs to put his face to the glass. His tongue lapped up the cum where Leroy had shot and the eighteen year old watched disgustedly. The man turned his head when he was done eating – not just eating but gorging himself on cum. His face was just an inch away from Leroy's deflating cock but he leaned forward to lap up the dribbling remnants from Leroy's dick. It was like he was drinking from a water fountain as the water turned off.

"Who are you?" Leroy asked.

"Call me coach," he replied – his smile was too wide and didn't reach the eyes. "You can go now."

The dismissal was so offhanded, rude and indifferent. It was as if Leroy was worthless and meant nothing. As Leroy roused from the dream, he felt groggy and hard. Leroy squeezed the cock in his hand and it felt really good. Leroy often jerked off a few times a day and there was no better way to get going in the morning than with a morning masturbation.

Leroy was always hard in the morning – his room was warm and stuffy and the floor was hard beneath his feet.

The floor. He was waking up.

Leroy's eyes opened and he found himself standing up. He wasn't in bed? He was in his bedroom but sometime during the dream, Leroy had got to his feet and the curtains! The nightmare and the real world had touched in some way. Leroy gasped as he realised he really was about to cum in full view of a window. Leroy was too close to turn back and he was too busy looking to see if anyone had been watching him.

Leroy could feel something sticky on his skin and with his free hand, he touched his ass. His hand felt tacky and gooey. Where the man in his dream had touched him there was deposits of what felt like cum. The cum from his dream had followed Leroy back to his bedroom where a final swipe of is cock too him over the edge.

Leroy couldn't see anyone – no-one in the garden and no neighbour at their window. No-one in the street either. Leroy blew his load on the window, leaving gungy white blobs on the glass. He stepped away, removing his nakedness from the window and unable to stop looking at his own cum.

Unlike in the dream, no-one would be eating it.

HE IS NO-ONE

Andrew coughed and felt pretty lousy. His chest still burned when he breathed too deeply – that'll happen when you swallow and inhale cum. The young man was already worried about the effect it might have on his sporting commitments. He was thinking of running to school to test his stamina and breathing.

Henry and Andrew had sat quietly through breakfast but then their dad walked in.

"I think we should talk about what happened last night. Before your mom gets home," Johnny said.

Siti Ng was Henry's mom and Johnny's wife and Johnny was Andrew's dad. Andrew and Henry were stepbrothers but the mom and dad and brother dynamics were as strong. They were a close family who communicated and looked after each other and didn't usually keep secrets.

"You don't think we should tell her?" Andrew guessed.

"You know how she'll worry. And she'll ask awkward questions," Johnny told his son.

"Like, how did you fill an entire bathroom with cum?" Henry asked.

Andrew blushed and Johnny looked annoyed.

"We don't know the answer to that. Maybe it wasn't... what it looked like? That's a more logical explanation," Johnny asserted.

Andrew and Henry nodded – not what it looked like was more logical than cum conjured into reality after a recurring nightmare character appeared in Andrew's dream.

"I don't want to tell her I early drowned in anything," Andrew said. "She'll make me stay off school and go to a doctor and I can't afford for this to impact my studies or my football like that."

"You should take it a bit easier for a few days, son," Johnny advised. "You might not be at the top of your game today."

"Yea, yea, I know," Andrew agreed reluctantly but unconvincingly.

"There is the other thing," Henry said.

"What other thing?" Andrew replied.

"Who is he?" Henry asked having turned to Johnny. "The man Andrew described in his dream. Who is he?"

"How would I know?" Johnny replied casually.

"Because you said: it can't be, he's dead," Henry recalled. "I heard you."

His stepdad looked angry – at Henry or himself?

"I made a mistake. I didn't mean anything by it, Henry," Johnny said convincingly.

Except Henry wasn't convinced. Johnny was keeping something from him and from Andrew.

"I saw him too. The nightmare man, the sinister dude," Henry confessed.

"Really?" Johnny replied worriedly but trying to hide it.

"What did you call him?" Henry prompted Andrew.

"Ricky," Andrew said lethargically. "But I don't think it was a real name. It was just a dream."

"He is no-one. It was a nightmare, Henry. C'mon," Johnny said. "You had nightmares for a week after watching Muppets Haunted Mansion."

Henry ignored him.

"Quinn and Chris had dreams about him too. It came up at school the other day. Have you spoken to Leroy about any freaky dreams he's had lately?" Henry asked his stepbrother.

"No. I've not told him about last night and I don't know if I want to. What do you think is going on, Henry? We all had the same dream?" Andrew asked as if the idea was ridiculous.

Johnny was looking agitated and irritable as he listened to his son's talk.

"No, I think all the dreams have been different. But the menacing man was the same. Remember three days ago? I had that nightmare after we saw him in front of the house..." Henry started to say.

"You saw him in front of the house?!" Johnny exploded. "Who? When?!"

The boys were both taken aback by the vehemence of the questions. They could see the cop in their dad at that moment.

"We don't know who he was. He was tallish, lean and dressed like he was going to ask us to accept Jesus Christ as our personal saviours," Andrew replied. "But he was in my dream. And yours?"

Andrew shrugged and nodded at the same time. Very helpful.

Johnny didn't think that sounded at all like the character he was thinking of but the physical description would have been right except for one minor detail. The man they were describing was dead and he had been for a long time.

"There you are then. You saw a scary guy in neighbourhood and your mind played tricks on you. Dreams are like that. Fig Leaf Street is supposed to be a safe place and he made you feel unsafe," Chief Johnny Roberts said insistently. "The bathtub? Probably just bad water in the pipes."

"It didn't look like water," Henry argued back. "And the dreams... it's not just the man... or the fact spunk seems to be following us as we wake up... the dreams don't feel right..."

"Henry, you're being preposterous," Johnny condescended.

Before Johnny could say anything else, his mobile phone rang and he left the room to take the call. Andrew had barely spoke during the exchange – not just because he was feeling like crap but because he didn't like to argue with his dad.

"You need to ask Leroy if he's had any weird dreams," Henry to Andrew in a hushed voice.

"I dunno, Henry. This whole thing sounds crazy," Andrew answered uncomfortably.

Henry, Andrew, Quinn and Chris had all had dreams with the same man in it.

Andrew had somehow manifested an entire bathtub if cum.

Their dreams had exploited fears and nudity or both.

"I mean, so what if he has? Who do we ask after that? The chess club, the lacrosse team?" Andrew asked.

Andrew actually had a point. Henry had thought of Leroy because he'd seen the man in front of the house too and because he was Andrew's friend but who knew how many people might be affected by the dream man? Henry looked over his shoulder and listened to his dad on the phone before speaking in a hushed tone.

"I think dad knows something," Henry said quietly.

"What do you mean he knows something?" Andrew demanded.

"I've got a feeling he's hiding something, Andrew. He's acting really weird and asking questions and trying really hard to make us stop asking questions..." Henry started saying.

Henry was about to suggest they look into the name Ricky – a needle in a haystack but maybe they could narrow it down. He was about to ask but Andrew was looking at him darkly.

"He's acting weird? You're the one who things we're being stalked in our dreams," Andrew defended his father. "Of course he had questions. Our dad is a cop, dipshit!"

Andrew got to his feet and left the room in a hurry – he didn't like Henry implying their dad would keep things from them. Besides, why would he?

MIDNIGHT SOCIETY B.S.

"The library? Henry, if we go to the library at lunch time everyone will think we're dorks," Quinn complained.

"We are dorks," Henry replied.

"Well, yea... I guess..." Quinn acknowledged.

Henry was surprised to see Andrew and Leroy were already in the library when they arrived. So was Chris and he looked very annoyed to be there. Henry had slipped a note into his locker at the start of the day asking him to meet in the library. The swimmer had cornered Henry between classes to demand an explanation as to why he wanted to meet.

Chris was concerned that Henry was trying to get him alone to kiss him – like they had on the last day of Junior year – or more – like they had in his dream. Was he concerned? Or was he hopeful? Of course he wasn't hopeful, Chris didn't want to kiss boys. When Henry explained he just wanted to talk and that there would be others there, Chris was even more perplexed but Henry wouldn't elaborate.

"What took you so long?" Andrew asked his stepbrother.

"We had to take the long way because of all the building work," Henry defended.

The new stadium had caused disruption to some classes but Henry liked looking at the hot builders so it wasn't a total loss. Leroy's dad was on the construction team – the manager in fact – and he was really hot in a daddy kind of way.

"Why did you ask me to be here? And them?" Chris asked with an edge of hostility. "What's this all about?"

"I had a weird dream a few nights ago," Henry explained

"I had a dream!" said Leroy – as the only black kid in their group, he was the only one who could do the line justice.

"I was naked," Henry added.

"Gross! Sounds like a nightmare," Leroy decided.

Chris sniggered while Andrew rolled his eyes – stuck between defending his stepbrother and reinforcing his friend's joke. Henry shrugged and Quinn smiled politely.

"Right. Anyway," Henry said. "The nightmare itself, or the nudity, wasn't the weird thing. There was a man in my dream."

"You somehow getting a man does sound weird," Quinn agreed teasingly.

"Hey! You're meant to be on my side," Henry complained.

"What has this got to do with us?" Chris interrupted the chatter.

"Because I had a dream about a creepy man who said he was hungry... and I don't think he meant a cheeseburger. He was a pervy man dressed like youth pastor and he said he was hungry while I was naked," Henry confessed.

The other four looked uncomfortable.

"Quinn told me he had a dream with a similar man. Chris, you were listening in and suggested you saw him in a dream," Henry revealed – not commenting on any other details about the content of their dreams. "And Andrew had a dream last night."

"You did? What happened in it?" Leroy asked his best friend.

"I really don't want to tell you. It was embarrassing and scared the shit out of me," Andrew admitted. "Henry wants to know if you dreamed about the man too?"

"Yea. Kind of. This morning," Leroy agreed.

He omitted the details about the dream and waking up jerking off at his window; just as Quinn hadn't admitted all the details of his dream; just as Chris hadn't revealed what happened in his dream.

"So what, the theory is we all had dreams about the same man?" Quinn asked.

"Maybe more people too but we can't exactly ask everyone on Facebook, can we?" Henry replied. "The question is, what connects all of us?"

"The real question is, why did you waste my time with this... Midnight Society bullshit?" Chris said. "They're dreams. That's all."

As much as they all wanted to agree, none of them really did. It was crazy but there was something unsettling about the whole thing. They all felt it.

"Something else happened with Andrew's dream..." Henry started to say.

"Henry sleep walked naked after his dream," Andrew got his comment in first. "And something similar happened to me. Like... something followed me out of the dream."

Andrew didn't want Henry telling everyone about the bathtub full of spunk, or being naked in front of his dad or getting CPR. Inevitably, Henry would tell Quinn because they're best friends and Andrew would tell Leroy because they're best friends but there was a difference between quietly discussing it and announcing it.

Meanwhile, Chris thought about his own dream and the way he'd woken to find marks on his thighs just like in his dream and the speedos full of cum that he wasn't sure was his own (cum that is, the sprod were his). Everyone was hiding something. Even Henry hadn't told everyone that he'd had cum in his mouth when he woke up but he wondered if they all had some kind of posthypnotic supernatural jizz experience.

"I'm going! This was stupid," Chris said and he left the library in a hurry.

"Ok, cool. That went well," Henry said sarcastically.

"What did you think would happen when you invited Saint Chris?" Leroy asked.

Chris's dad was the priest of a local Roman Catholic church and Chris was known to be a bit of a prude. Except Henry knew better. Chris's problem wasn't that he was a prude but that he wanted to kiss boys.

"I don't know what I thought would happen. Maybe the dreams aren't anything more than dreams but..." Henry faltered.

"But what if they're real?" Leroy asked in a haunted tone.

"You're not buying into this, are you?" Andrew asked his best friend as if he expected better.

"I dunno, Andrew. I've never had a dream like that before..." Leroy replied.

"What happened in it?" Quinn asked.

"I really don't want to tell you. But at the end, I asked him who he was and he said to call him coach," Leroy said.

"Really?" Henry asked, filing the information away for later.

"Did your dream involve... nudity?" Andrew asked.

Henry, Quinn and Leroy looked at him.

"What. This was Henry's dumb idea," Andrew said – turning on his stepbrother. "You said we needed to talk to ask everyone if they'd had weird dreams... You know what? Chris was right. This is stupid."

Andrew crossed his arms huffily and stormed off.

"Ok, did Andrew have a dream about nudity?" Quinn asked. "Tell me everything."

"You were stripped in your dream too," Henry replied causing his friend to blush and then Henry turned to Leroy. "You?"

Leroy blushed too, looked away and nodded.

"The man, call him Ricky, a sinister coach..." Henry started to say.

Then the school bell rang, interrupting them.

"I gotta go guys," Leroy said. "Look. Maybe we've all watch the same bad docudrama or listened to the same podcast? Ideas get shared in dreams, like Slenderman."

"Maybe," Henry replied unconvinced.

"We should go. The sexy builders aren't going to check themselves out," Quinn said to Henry.

Henry laughed at the disarming joke and left with his best friend while Leroy went to find Andrew.

"Henry, what does the man in the dreams want from us?" Quinn asked.

"I don't know," Henry admitted. "Let me sleep on it."

POOLSIDE EMBARRASSMENT

"So stupid," Chris said as he climbed up to the diving board.

Chris had been angry after the meeting in the library. He couldn't quite explain why he'd been so angry. Maybe it was because he wasn't sleeping well, or because the dream he'd had at the weekend had unnerved him. He wished he'd never told Henry that he'd had a dream too. But the man, the sinister figure that seemed present in all their dreams... he didn't know how to explain that.

The sexual nature of his dream had left him feeling guilty and he was a lapsed catholic but with his dad as a priest it was hard to avoid the cultural expectation of confession.

Chris had a lot to confess.

Chris yawned as he reached the high board.

He'd been climbing for a while and yet didn't remember the ascent. He'd been too distracted by the library meeting. He padded onto the board and looked down. Chris was dressed in red Speedo. They hugged his ass and his front had a bulge in the front.

He stood at the edge of the board, his bare toes wriggling and his arms rose to expose his pits as he prepared to take the dive. He always felt a bit exposed standing up on the board. The exhibition ended as he dived in, breaking through the surface of the water. He knew he could have done better but it was an ok performance.

When his head broke the surface, he wiped the water from his face and eyes and swam to the edge. When he hoisted himself out of the water he heard laughter. Looking around, there was a small crowd of kids who had skipped classes and a few others who had no class at this time; there was a handful of boys from the swim team and diving team too. Everyone was laughing at him.

Then Chris realised he was naked.

Chris clamped his hands over his genitals and looked around the water for the speedo that must have come off when he hit the water. This had never happened before and if he'd been paying attention, it wouldn't have happened now. It was Henry's fault for that stupid meeting in the library – it had distracted him.

"Nice ass, Chris."

"Wow, do you shave everywhere, Chris?"

Chris burned with shame. Not that he was ashamed of his body – he wasn't – but even guys who were proud of their physique generally didn't show it off to a dozen Eleven and Twelfth Grade boys.

"Only gay guys shave."

"Are you a homo, Chris?."

"No I'm not!" Chris roared. "Fuck you guys."

"Fuck guys? We're not really into that, Chris."

The laughter at his expense was cruel and harsh.

"Come on then, gay boy. Show us what you've got."

"I'm not gay. I'm not!" Chris repeated.

Chris been trying to pray away gay thoughts for years then that kiss with Henry happened and it only made things worse. Chris's teammates seemed to prowl closer, surrounding him. The spectators climbed a few seats in the gallery to get a better view of him – over the heads of the other swimmers.

"Someone give me my speedo back. This isn't funny," Chris said.

"It's pretty funny."

"Yea, you can tell because we're about to laugh at your hairless dick."

"It's not hairless," Chris replied weakly.

But it was almost hairless.

Chris did shave his legs and pits and trimmed his pubes. He got carried away sometimes. It had never mattered before. Lots of gays shaved. No, lots of guys shaved. Who wanted to see an eighteen year old high school diver with pubes sticking out his swimsuit, right?

Right?

Four guys pounced on him. They were tall and strong boys just like Chris, easily overpowering him and pulling his hands away to expose his penis to everyone watching. Chris's soft, circumcised penis was a very average three inches. It dangled down symmetrically between his asymmetrical testicles.

Chris still burned with shame at the memory of going to his family doctor because he was worried about one ball being bigger than the other. Only to be told it was fine and he hadn't needed to completely strip.

They started laughing at him and Chris cringed as his teammates – they were meant to be his friends – wrestled his arms behind his back to one of them could hold him exposed for all to see.

"See! He shaved."

"Gotta look good for his boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend," Chris protested weakly. "I'm not gay!"

"I think his ass is shaved too."

"Fuck you guys!" Chris spat at them.

But the guys weren't done, they bent him over and turned him towards the spectators gallery so they could all see his smooth, pink ring. It was shaved but Chris wasn't going to admit to that. He never thought he'd be harassed by his own teammates during swimming practice.

"Gross."

"I don't want to see his hole."

"Look at that thing. His dick and balls gangling between his thighs like a fairy."

"Assholes," Chris shouted.

Someone slapped his ass and then kept smacking the cheeks in turn until Chris couldn't stop himself and yelped in pain.

"I think he likes it."

"Of course Chris likes guys touching his ass. He's gay."

"I'm not gay!" Chris repeated.

"Look at his hairless thighs."

"Are we sure he shaves?"

The laughter as the derision continued was horrible. Chris had never been afraid of bullying because 1) he'd been something of a bully himself, and 2) he'd never had anything to be bullied about.

"He says he's not gay but he's getting a hard-on."

"No I'm..." Chris started to say but it was true.

His teammates slapped his butt one more time and then stood him up. His arms were still wrenched behind his back when whoever was holding him spun him around to face the audience again. No longer were they looking as his ass – now they could see his fully erect cock.

Chris thought his 6.2 inches was big enough but he didn't think so when the laughing started and the pointing.

Then a litany of comments followed.

"Look at that thing!"

"Is that it?"

"Maybe it'll get bigger when you're older."

Since Chris was eighteen, he hoped it might still grow another inch but at the moment he was thoroughly embarrassed by the size of his penis. It wasn't even a small dick but every guy wants to be bigger and it was 21ST century problem to have the expectations of looking like a GQ cover model and have a porn star sized dick.

"Jerk him off."

"No!" Chris cried and struggled ineffectually.

"You know he wants it."

"No. Fuck you!" Chris responded.

"Gay guys love getting their cocks jerked by hot men with swimmers bodies."

That... was true... but Chris wasn't about to agree.

"Let me go," Chris wriggled again.

One of his speedo clad teammates reached for his cock and started stroking for the enthralled and disgusted audience. Chris had objected vehemently but deep down he was enjoying this. He hated that people thought he was gay and loathed the mockery but the actual touching? That was exciting.

His teammate with big hands and a ripped chest and rippling abs and tight, smothering trunks was a magnificent source of excitement.

"See, he loves it."

"He wouldn't be hard if he didn't like another guy jerking him."

Even his teammates were mocking him.

"What about him! He's the one jerking another guy," Chris pointed out.

"It's not gay to touch a cock. I wank myself all the time."

"Yea. It's not gay to wank or touch a dick."

"But it's really gay to like another guy touching you."

"You like it because you're gay, Chris."

"No... no..." Chris tried to say but he was close to cumming.

"He loves getting jerked off."

"Look at him."

They were looking. Chris could see they were living their best day. His classmates had seen him have a wardrobe malfunction, seen him exposed and now they were going to watch him cum.

"I can't believe Chris Booth is letting a guy jerk him off."

Letting? He wasn't letting them? But had he struggled? He could try to get away or jump in the water... but then he wouldn't be getting jerked off.

"I wonder if his dad will take his confession?"

"I bet Chris gives the altar boys communion. This is my body..."

Chris's teammates and classmates laughed at him again. Chris tenses as he got closer to cumming and when the creamy, milky, silky ropes erupted there was a cheer of hilarity and disgust. Whoever was holding him let him go.

"See, straight boys wouldn't have cum."

"Gross, Chris. You're so gross."

"Can't believe we let a gay guy be on our team."

"Not anymore he's not."

"I'm off the team? No! You can't do that!" Chris cried.

Being cast out was almost as bad as being outed... which was almost as bad as being wanked off in front of your peers.

"No-one wants to be around a gay guy in the locker room."

"Yea, Chris. If we'd known, we'd have kept our backs to the wall when we were showering."

Chris had been so excited and stimulated but the post-orgasmic high was already fading and now all he had was mortifying shame. He covered his genitals and stepped backwards which only gave his teammates another idea – they pushed him.

Chris took a breath as he tilted backwards into the water and hit with a splosh.

Splosh?

Chris felt a viscous resistance as he brought his head above water and realised he wasn't swimming in water. He was swimming in a warm pool of spermic swimmers.

"We filled the pool for you."

"I knew you'd want my cum in your mouth."

"You feel my jizz in your ass, Chris."

"Homo!"

Chris put his hands on the edge of the pool and pulled himself out. He was gungy with spunk from his teammates and yet, when he looked back, the pool was as clear as ever even if he was still dripping cum.

They laughed at him.

The laughter got mean and Chris burned with shame. Chris ran from the poolside and made for the locker room. He was still naked and exposed and humiliated. Chris didn't know how he'd get through the rest of the school day after this. They were going to tell everyone he was gay. The whole school would know.

It was his worst nightmare.

THE WRITING'S ON THE WALL

"This isn't funny!" said Quinn.

Chis found himself tied up in the showers. He couldn't remember getting here but he wasn't really concentrating on that at the moment. He was concentrating on the fact that Brad, Zach and Corey were looking at him tied up and high fiving each other. The three bullies were intermittent antagonists which, if anything, was worse. Quinn never knew when he was going to be tripped up or shoved in a locker or tied up in the showers...

Ok, the last one was new.

They had left him alone for nearly a year and Quinn had hoped the bullying was over.

Quinn realised it was like continuous vs. intermittent reinforcement. The former was used to train behaviour and the latter to maintain behaviour by varying the schedule of reward. In other words, the surprise attack was worse than unrelenting bullying.

"This isn't funny," Quinn repeated.

"It's pretty funny," Zach said.

His two brainless sidekicks guffawed in agreement.

"Brad, turn on the water," Zach said.

"Me? I don't want to get too close the fag. Make Corey do it," Brad replied.

"I don't wanna get wet. You do it," Corey replied.

Zach stepped forward and pushed the shower button above Quinn's head. He darted back as cold water rained down on Quinn who was still fully clothed. His t-shirt, shorts, socks and sneakers were soaked while the three brainless amigos laughed at him.

Quinn shook his head and spat out water as he was drowned in wet.

"Fuck! Let me go!" Quinn complained.

"Where are our manners," Zach said. "We should help you get undressed for your shower."

"What?! No!" Quinn redoubled his complaint and struggled against the bindings that kept his wrists secured above his head.

The bullies had used speedo's to tie each hand to the pipes above Quinn's head.

Which was a nice touch, Quinn thought. Or a horrible thing to do to a guy. But if you are going to be tied up, the soft but stretchy speedo fabric was literally a nice touch.

Brad jolted forward to turn off the water and before Quinn could react he felt his sopping wet t-shirt being cut off. Quinn looked in despair as the sleeves were cut up to the neckline and then the front was cut right down the centre.

Brad cheered and was cheered on as he spun the wet t-shirt around his head, sending splashes of water around the shower room as he windmilled the wet material.

"Look at his pathetic chest," Zach said with disdain.

"And his pits. Do you even have any hair in there?" Corey mocked.

"Have you ever heard of puberty, Mason?" Brad said – using his second name, a classic antagonistic trick.

Quinn Mason did have pit hair but it was downy and peppered his white skin unimpressively.

"What is going on here?" asked a voice.

The four boys turned to see a man standing in the entrance to the shower room. Quinn thought he recognised him but the memory was hazy. It was like trying to remember...

A dream.

"We weren't doing anything," Brad lied.

"Yea coach, we were just..." Zach started to say.

Coach? Was this man a coach? He'd help then, right? Quinn was confused because he didn't think he'd seen the man until a few days ago. Where had he seen the man before? He was dressed in black trousers and a black tie with a white shirt. He was also wearing a school sports jacket but the emblem looked old.

"Boy's shouldn't shower with their clothes on," the man interrupted.

The three bullies chuckled.

"You want us to take his clothes off, coach?" Zach asked.

"Boy's shouldn't shower with their clothes on," he repeated.

The voice was velvety and the man's eyes were dark. He didn't overtly support the bullying; he just nudged the trio of goons. He would stand and watch. He wasn't doing anything wrong, right?

Zach was gleeful as he was given permission to continue his torment. He walked forward and pulled Quinn's sneakers off, tossing them carelessly across the shower room and into a puddle of water that was slowly emptying through a partially blocked drain. The water looked almost... cloudy and sludgy... like cum.

"Please. You can't let them do this," Quinn pleaded with the man.

"Boys should be naked when they shower," the man said.

"You want to see me naked?" Quinn challenged with disgust.

It was bad enough being bullied and mocked but this man... something stirred in his memory but it was as if his recall was being blocked and he couldn't touch it. Where Quinn had seen the man before was like smoke passing through his fingers.

One thing Andrew had taught him, when he'd stepped in to dissuade the bullying, was that you had to speak up. Even if you didn't tell someone in authority, you should speak up. Where would staying quiet get you? Speak up, challenge them, call them out.

Quinn found it hard to stand up for himself.

The man didn't say anything but he didn't have to. Zach was still beside Quinn and he pulled down the tied-up boy's shorts to leave him in only his boxers. They were wet too so the outline of his dick was more prominent in the front of the underwear.

It was not a very big prominence.

Quinn could tell the bullies were thinking the same thing because they were nudging each other and trying not to laugh as they looked at his soggy groin.

"Pull his boxer shorts down, Johnny," the man said.

Zach tugged them until Quinn's pubes appeared and Quinn pulled against his bonds again but his arms were still well-secured above his head and he was helpless to do a thing about it.

"Johnny? His name is Zach," Quinn said.

The man's eyes darted around in their sockets. He was a strange looking man – tall and muscular yet... gangly and gaunt. It was as if there was two of him pressed together. One strong and powerful and the other emaciated and hungry.

Quinn felt his boxers slipping over and off his bare feet and leaving him totally exposed in the showers. The three bullies laughed and the man sneered at Quinn's burning shame. It was as if he was feeding off of Quinn's embarrassment.

"Your dick is the size of a pubic hair," Brad said.

That was a little unfair.

"This isn't funny," Quinn said.

"It is from where we're standing, faggot!" Zach said.

The word was like a gut punch. It was the word used by bullies against gay people and while some had professed to reclaim the word, or liked the word or called other gays by that word, Quinn was an eighteen year old baby-gay who knew he was being insulted.

"Take him down," the man said.

Quinn looked at the man who's lips didn't move as more words emanated from him. It seemed Quinn was the only one who could hear them.

Yea, that's it boys. Handly the wet naked teen. Touch him. Watching you tastes so good.

Brad and Corey unknotted the speedo's binding Quinn wrists overhead but even with his arms free, he wasn't able to cover up. The wrestles with Quinn's arms, their hands sliding on the bare wet skin and exciting both Quinn and the sinister man watching.

The pair of bullies were holding Quinn's wrists to stop him covering his genitals. Silently, the man offered something to Zach who took it and laughed. It was a marker pen. Zach stepped forward and while Brad and Cory pushed Quinn's head down while holding his arms tight, Zach drew and wrote on Quinn's back.

He drew a cock & balls.

He wrote the word FAGGOT!

"Do you want this to be over, Quinn?" the man asked. "I'm hungry!"

Quinn looked at him with bewilderment.

"Let him go," the man said to Zach and the others.

"Yes coach," they answered in eerie unison.

"Masturbate," the coach said. "Feed me. I want to watch you."

Quinn felt entranced, subjugated, trodden, low, demeaned – he wanted to stand up for himself and say no but he couldn't. Quinn got hard with surprising ease and there were no comments about his erect size because it was nearly six and a half inches.

Quinn was wet and hard and yet he felt himself genuinely aroused. Being watched by the man and the three bullies was exciting. He could feel the excitement pouring into him as he got closer to orgasm when the excitement would come pouring out.

"You like it, don't you?" the coach said.

Was he a coach? Quinn couldn't remember. The school emblem on the man's sports jacket was dated. That was it. That was the detail Quinn had missed earlier. It was twenty years old. As he continued to jerk off, the man and the bullies watched the disgusting display of self-pleasure.

"Do you like it, Quinn? Do you like us watching you?" the man asked.

"Yes," Quinn confessed.

"Play with your nipples," the man told him.

Quinn rubbed the brown-pink areolar and hated how good it felt.

His dick was dripping.

The bullies who had tied him up and written on him stared as his ejaculation became inevitable. The writing was on the wall (as well as on his back).

"Oh... I'm gonna cum..." Quinn said.

"Gross."

"Freak."

"Gay!"

"That's it, boy. Keep going," the coach encouraged.

"What the fuck is going on here?" asked a voice.

It was the second time Quinn's bullying had been interrupted.

Quinn looked past Zach, Corey, Brad and the coach and saw...

"Chris?" Quinn said.

Chris was big and sexy and naked. Quinn could see Chris's flaccid dick and amazing abs and suckable nipples. Holy fuck he looked good. Quinn's cock erupted with cum. Way more cum than was normal. It was an ecstatic moment of pure joy. For just a moment, as the cum shot out of him, Quinn's worries about the bullying and the writing on his back left him and swirled in a creamy circuit down the drain.

"Quinn? That was gross..." Chris said.

Except that wasn't what he really thought. It was the first time Chris had seen a boy masturbate. In real life anyway. Watching another boy cum was... well, it was... Chris didn't want to think about how much he liked seeing another boy pleasure himself.

"I can see your dick, Chris," Quinn felt obliged to tell him.

The fact that Chris was naked and that Quinn could see his dick was not the only thing Quinn noticed. He also noticed that Chris's whole body was shiny with slime. Even his hair was claggy with it even though Chris had tried to wipe his face and head.

Was that cum?

Chris reacted like he had just been told he was naked in front of the entire school, clamping his hand over his manhood and feeling thoroughly humiliated. Not that he hadn't been seen naked in the showers before but before but before but before...

This wasn't right.

Quinn had just fled his poolside humiliation where his teammates had...

Quinn suddenly noticed the man.

How could he have missed the figure, the sinister shape of evil in the room with them. It grinned at him. He! He grinned at Chris. Quinn got to his feet and Chris caught a glimpse of the word written on his back. He felt a stab of pity for Quinn.

"Am I... Am I dreaming?" Chris asked the sinister man. "Beside the pool. Was that just a dream?"

Chris felt a great sense of relief and he felt stupid for not having noticed the illogic of the scene.

"Wait, am I dreaming too?" Quinn asked.

Chris looked at him. He was still perturbed to be naked, hands still protecting his modesty. His hairless thighs framing his hands which felt the prod of an erection coming.

"Quinn?" Chris asked.

"Chris?" Quinn replied.

They both realised that they weren't just dreaming about teammates or bullies. Chris wasn't dreaming with Quinn as an extra and vice versa. They were both dreaming and sharing the dreamscape somehow.

"Are we dreaming together?" Quinn speculated.

"You're getting hard, Chris," said the man.

"What are you? Why are you doing this?" Chris asked in a panicked voice.

He didn't want to get hard in front of bullies – in a dream or reality. He didn't want Quinn or this man to see his erection either. The man smirked and then clapped his hands as he replied. When his hands connected it was like a clap of thunder and Quinn and Chris both woke up.

"For reven-," the coach clapped.

MISSING

Henry sat up in bed. He felt lousy. Really lousy. It was the middle of the night. He hadn't slept. He'd tried not to for a while – afraid of what nightmares awaited him. Then when he was too tired to stay away, he tried to sleep and found he couldn't break into a restful phase.

Frustrated, Henry had mulled over the dreams. The hypothesis that he and at least four others had all dreamed about the same frightening man. What was so scary? His elusiveness? His hunger? The man had called himself Ricky but was that his real name?

Then Leroy had said something about a coach but the man looked nothing like their current coaches. Or a coach from another school even. It was in the middle of the dark that an idea came to Henry.

Hadn't Henry thought his stepdad knew something? Knew who the man was? Johnny Roberts, after Andrew had described the creepy dude, had said "it can't be, he's dead."

Since he couldn't or wouldn't sleep, Henry sought to investigate his idea.

Henry got out of bed and silently opened his bedroom door. Henry was topless and wearing shorts but nothing else as he crept across the hall and down the stairs. Henry unwisely remembered his dream a few nights ago. He'd been naked and tormented by the evil man.

Henry was alone in the dark this time.

Henry reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the family room where there was a bookcase. On the third shelf from the top was a row of annuals and almanacs. What was there was not what Henry was looking for.

Indeed, what he was looking for was missing. It should be there. There was a gap on the shelf and it had been taken very recently.

His father's yearbook.

END OF CHAPTER III

TO BE CONTINUED...

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My stories so far:

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

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

Also: Anthology, and The SEX Men.

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