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 V

A CLASS OF HIS OWN

DAY FIVE – WEDNESDAY (cont.)

How are you supposed to stay awake in class? Especially English class. I mean, c'mon. All those words and punctuation ganging up on each other.

Proposition: get rid of English class. Preposition: for they got rid of English class.

Andrew was lucky his stepbrother and stepmom were the nerds in the family because he got his physique and sporting acumen from his dad. Andrew sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, closing his eyes for just a moment. The teacher was only talking about Shakespeare anyway and whoever heard of Shakespeare coming up in an English exam?

"To die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream..."

"Are you naked?"

"Huh?" Andrew replied.

"Dude, you're naked!"

Andrew looked down at himself and couldn't believe his eyes. His shirt and shorts were gone, even his sneakers and socks. Most importantly his fucking underpants were gone.

"Fuck me dude, why are your thighs so thick?"

Andrew squirmed at the question. He was insecure enough about his body without a running commentary from others.

"And that bush above your dick?"

"Can you keep your voice down?" Andrew hissed.

"Is there a problem back there?" asked the teach... er?

Andrew tried to make sense of it but the teacher wasn't his teacher. It was the man he'd seen... in his dream. He couldn't be dreaming now, could he? As Andrew looked again at his inexplicable classroom nudity, the real question was: he couldn't possibly be awake, could he?

He hoped not! He really hoped not! Henry had a theory that things were manifesting from the dream in reality. Following them out. What if he couldn't tell the difference between being awake and dreaming?

Andrew pinched his arm to try and wake himself up but nothing happened.

"Why is your shirt off?" the man demanded when Andrew didn't answer.

"Sorry, sir. I was just... too hot?" Andrew replied.

"He certainly is," said a boy beside him.

There was a chuckle around the room.

Andrew looked at the lad beside him and it was like looking into a mirror; his own face was reflected back but the body was fully dressed. Andrew recalled that he had heard his own voice in his last nightmare – a voice that insulted or mocked or chastised him. His own insecure criticism. And now the voice (his voice) had a body (his body).

"I'd rather you didn't have your nipples out in my class," the teacher said.

The class laughed again and Andrew cringed at the attention. Luckily none of it was substantial enough to noticed he was totally naked. The desktop was covering this fact for now.

"Are you him?" Andrew asked nodding to the sinister man masquerading as a teacher.

"No, I'm me," he replied. "Why are you naked?"

"I don't know. Can you give me some clothes?" Andrew asked desperately.

"I don't have any," his mirror claimed. "You should make the most of it."

"Make the most of it?" Andrew asked.

Andrew-2 put a hand on Andrew's thigh and caressed it. It was warm and muscular with fine, downy hairs that prickled from soft white skin. Andrew-2's big hands squeezed the tight, muscular leg and filled Andrew with confusingly sexual feelings. He didn't want to be fondled by a guy but the guy was himself. Yet, was it?

"Whoa, dude. I'm not into that," Andrew protested.

"You don't like being touched?" Andrew-2 asked.

Andrew was trying to look forward to the lesson happening at the front of the room. Some kind of language lesson was going on but it didn't look like Shakespeare.

"I like being touched but not by boys," Andrew said. "My brother is gay. But I'm not."

Henry was technically Andrew's stepbrother but Andrew had never felt the need to overemphasise the step- part.

"I'm not gay either. But just because you're not gay doesn't mean a guy can't make you hard," Andrew replied. "Besides, who else is going to want to touch you? When you look like that?"

Andrew-2 had spoken softly and seductively – until the insult that crawled inside Andrew and took root. Andrew knew how illogical it was to be insecure about his appearance but he also knew he couldn't help feeling the way he did.

Ironically, Andrew could look at Andrew-2 and see all his attractive qualities. Andrew-2's mirror like qualities only served to reflect Andrew's insecurity and dysmorphia about his own body. Andrew was getting hard as Andrew-2 stroked up and down his thigh, sliding his hand into the inner thigh and bringing his fingers dangerously close to Andrew's testicles.

At the front of the room, the teacher was talking but Andrew couldn't hear anything. It was nothing but a background noise while the sound of his own breath and quiet gasps seemed to get louder as he was pleasured.

Andrew was humiliated to be naked in class and relieved no-one had noticed yet. It was a classic nightmare – naked in school. Naked in class. Caught naked by a teacher. Andrew despaired at the idea of the teacher or worse everyone in the class seeing him naked...

...Like in the dream he had about the life model class.

The intruder, the lurker, the sinister figure, the hungry man, the coach, Ricky – the teacher. Andrew found himself remembering the teacher from outside his house, from previous dreams, from the description in everyone else's dreams.

So he was dreaming, right? Right?

"What are you doing back there?" the teacher asked.

"Nothing!" Andrew protested immediately.

"I was talking to Andrew," the man replied – his eyes on Andrew-2.

What Andrew-2 was doing was masturbating Andrew whose cock was now fully hard beneath the school desk. Andrew-2 had Andrew's 6.6 inch cock in his hand and precum was oozing from the head like jelly from a donut that had been held too tight. Andrew felt his bare feet slipping on the floor and his moist ass on the seat was getting uncomfortable too.

"Nothing?" Andrew-2 replied with trepidation.

The teacher smirked.

"Andrew. Please stand up," the teacher said.

The grinning man was now looking at the one and only naked Andrew Roberts.

Andrew-2 withdrew his hand.

"I can't," Andrew replied.

"Of course you can. You put all your weight on your feet and you lift your butt off the chair," the man condescended.

"Please sir. I don't want to," Andrew confessed.

"Andrew, put your hands on top of your head," the teacher demanded.

Andrew obeyed, making his biceps pop and exposing his armpits.

"Look at this young man, class," the teacher said. "Flaunting himself... for some reason."

The man's criticism wounded Andrew. He was a good-looking young man who knew people checked him out but the attention and emphasis was uncomfortable. It wasn't really the attention of others that bothered him but his own attention – that why the voices talking about him were always his own. But now the gaze of the class was uncomfortable – boring into every flaw.

More besides – he was fucking naked in English class!

"Stand up now, Andrew," the teacher said.

Andrew gulped. It was like the teacher knew. It was like the man took pleasure in knowing Andrew was about to be totally humiliated. Andrew, hands still on his head, pushed back his chair and stood up.

As Andrew's rock-hard cock came into view, there was a gasp from the students around the room.

"Why are you naked, Andrew?" the teacher teased him.

"I don't know where my clothes are," Andrew replied ashamedly.

"Speak up, boy," the man told him from the front of the classroom.

"I don't know where my clothes went," Andrew confessed.

"Just vanished, did they?" the man mocked him. "Well, come to the front of the room, maybe there's here. Since you want to show off, show everyone where we can see you."

"No, I don't want to show off," Andrew replied.

"Are you naked in school?" the teacher posited.

"Yes," Andrew admitted.

"And were you being masturbated you under the desk?" the man asked with a smirk.

"Yes but..." Andrew started to say.

"Get down here then. We call want to look at your body, don't we boys?" the teacher asked.

Andrew looked around feverishly. The class were all Andrew now. His face but... different. They had features not unlike the teacher; the eyes were darker and their shark-like grins split their mouths wider than was normal.

There were murmurs of agreement from the Andrew's.

Some wanted to make fun of him or humiliate him and others wanted to see every inch of his defective physique. Some were curious about the size of his penis and some wanted to take sneaky pictures and put them in the yearbook so the whole school would see he was freakish.

Once again the illogic logic of dreams became apparent for a moment before the veil slipped over it again and Andrew once again forgot he was trapped in this nightmare.

Andrew was nearly at the front of the room when the teacher spoke again.

"Andrew, you can come down here too," the teacher said.

Andrew tried to remember the name of the teacher... Coach... Ricky...

"Face the class. Show everyone that penis you're so proud of," the teacher chastised him. "Can everyone see this disgusting boy?"

There were murmurs of ascent.

"Can everyone see every exposed inch of this naked boy?" the teacher asked. "Can you all see his cock?"

The class of Andrews agreed again, braying like they were at a football match.

"Keep your hands on your head Andrew, you won't need them," the teacher said. "Andrew, stroke his cock."

Andrew couldn't move as Andrew-2 took a grip and started stroking him again. It wasn't like earlier when it was a secret. He was now being openly pleasured by another boy in front of a whole class. They would tell the entire school!

Andrew's cock was just under six and a half inches and topped with a spray of dark pubic hairs. His balls were held in a stiff, leathery sac despite the heat of the day. As Andrew-2 stroked him off, Andrew wished this humiliation was over.

The exposure, the arousal. It was too much.

"Do you like boys masturbating you?" the teacher asked conversationally. "Do you do it often? With Leroy perhaps?"

"What? No. Never," Andrew replied.

"We'll see," the man said.

"But look how hard you are," the man continued.

"I'm straight," Andrew insisted.

"Sure. A straight boy who likes being stroked by another boy. Do we believe him class?" the teacher asked.

"No!"

The negative from the other Andrew's surrounded Andrew. The humiliation and judgement was oppressive.

"Well, Andrew Roberts, you enjoy exposing your body to everyone..."

There was a hoot in the class and some applause that caused Andrew to blush. The attention to his body was overwhelming and nerve-wracking.

"And you enjoy letting people see you masturbate," the teacher added.

"I don't. I don't want people to look at me like this," Andrew replied. "Please, let me get dressed."

"But you got rid of your clothes. Where are they?" the mocking teacher responded. "You don't know? What, did they just vanish?"

Andrew blushed at how absurd it sounded.

"You wanted us all to look at you, you disgusting pervert. Well, we're looking," the teacher scalded. "Andrew? Put Andrew's penis in your mouth."

"What?" Andrew replied.

Before he could react... no... Andrew couldn't react.

He was paralysed.

The sense of unreal caused an abdication of reason and so Andrew stood at the front of the classroom as a boy who looked just like him got on his knees and started to suck his cock. Andrew was the only naked person in the room – the teacher standing beside his desk and Andrew on his knees and all the other Andrew's were still dressed.

Andrew could feel the comments about his body like whispers in the dark. About his pecs being tits and his ass being a bubble and his legs not being hairy enough for a real man and his cock should be bigger and his pubes...

Oh fuck that blowjob felt so good.

Since he was a straight eighteen year old, Andrew had some experience with oral sex but never from another guy. The slurping noises were loud in the quietness of the room. Art gobbling cock and slurping on precum. Andrew grunted as he got close to climax.

"Is that Andrew Roberts?"

Andrew turned to see the classroom door was open.

Again, the only face was his own but it wasn't him.

An Andrew pushed an Andrew into the room and then another and another as faces stared to appear in the doorway as more people heard about what was going on. Andrew's were pushed into the classroom and each new entrant pushed the former farther into the room until the whole room was packed with Andrew's. Each gazed at the one and only Andrew with a searching expression that he found intrusive and distressing.

Yet he was still hard.

It was as if his arousal were held in a tight grip. As if his excitement was controlled by magic and authority. Andrew felt the attention on his body like sunburn – the humiliation overwhelming as he was watched, not only naked but being sucked off.

"Is that Andrew Roberts?"

Andrew looked out the classroom window and again more and more Andrew's appeared as they heard about the exhibition. Andrew never wanted this. Why was this happening?

When he came, Andrew-2 took the first burst of jizz in his mouth but he pulled back quickly and spun Andrew around so that the second throe of ejaculation shot into the crowded room. It was like deep sea world – the first five rows might get wet. But it wasn't just one shot or two shots.

His cum gushed.

The first girl who ever watched him cum had said it looked like he pissed himself. Andrew had looked it up and thought it might be something called hyperspermia but the point was his jizz just kept going. In the unreality reality of the nightmare it sprayed like a hose; disgust filled the faces of the boys watching him. It was his face and his voice that observed the intimate display made public. It was his face and his voice that expressed their revulsion at his body, his orgasm and his very soul.

"Freak."

"Disgusting."

"Pervert."

"Filth."

"You must have wanted that wanted, Andrew," said the sinister man. "You got hard. You came. You must have liked it."

Andrew found himself being blamed for being a victim.

"Why are you doing this to us?" Andrew asked.

"I'm still hungry," the teacher replied.

Andrew looked at him and when he looked back at Andrew-2, his doppelgänger was gone. A moment later, the dream dissolved and Andrew woke with a start.

If he had fallen asleep during the class, no-one had woken him and the room was now empty.

Worst of all, he was only wearing a pair of briefs that had seen better days. It wasn't like in the dream – Andrew could feel this was the real world as if some force wanted him to know it. The underwear were frayed around the legs and the stitches at the seams were visible. The briefs looked like they would fit Henry who was two sizes smaller than Andrew.

"Fuck!" Andrew muttered to himself.

Nearly naked in school just like in the nightmare? Was he still dreaming? How would he know? It was getting harder to tell the difference between reality and the dream world. But he did know. While the dream happened, he had been stripped – the unreal reality of the occurrence only served to support Henry's theory. After all, he had literally filled a bath with cum a few nights ago – conjuring things into reality.

This whole thing was crazy.

"Andrew?" asked a voice from the doorway.

"Chris?" Andrew replied.

There was a look on Chris's face as he slid quietly into the room and closed the door. His eyes never left Andrew's body – or what he could see of it. Chris could see Andrew's bare chest and it looked great. Shirtless guys was nothing new but it was incongruous in the classroom and perhaps sleepless nights had lowered Chris's inhibitions.

"Chris?" Andrew repeated. "You were staring."

"Huh? No I wasn't," he lied. "I just zoned out."

Chris came up the aisle between desks and stopped as he realised Andrew was only wearing briefs. They were a wreck – dirty and coming apart. Andrew's thighs stretched the leg holes and there was a lump in the front where Andrew's penis dented the material.

"Why are you undressed like that?" Chris asked.

"I don't know. I think I fell asleep in class and I woke up like this," Andrew said.

"You totally zoned out during class but you didn't look asleep," Chris said. "We were all meant to meet in the library. When you didn't show up, I came back to get you."

"I'm nearly naked. This is my..." Andrew started to say.

"Worst nightmare?" Chris said – there was a lot of those going around.

"I think the dreams can affect the real world," Andrew said as he stood up.

He was more exposed to Chris now and despite his body issues, Andrew steeled himself to be looked at by Chris. Chris had his own fears and Andrew could guess what they were. The way he looked at guys when he thought no-one noticed?

"Have you got clothes I can borrow?" Andrew asked.

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST, SUMMER

Chris had a musky (a very musky) t-shirt from his locker that he'd meant to take home days ago and a pair of shorts buried in the bottom of his bag that he wore over his speedo when he was poolside. Once Andrew was dressed in something resembling decent, the pair met the others in the library.

Andrew, Chris, Leroy, Quinn and Henry.

"What kept you?" Henry asked – eying up his brothers attire.

"I'll tell you later," Andrew replied because he could see Henry was clearly excited. "What have you found out?"

"You had a nightmare, didn't you?" Leroy asked before Henry could reply.

"Yea..." Andrew admitted but there was a look on his friend's face. "You too?"

"Yea," Leroy replied. "During football practice. Sorry if I took it out on you."

"No problem," Andrew fist bumped his best friend.

"Me and Chris had a dream," Quinn offered.

Chris offered Quinn a dirty look.

"You and Chris... in the same dream?" Henry asked.

"Yea. But it was no big deal. Cameo appearance, that's all," Chris downplayed.

"Right. Anyway..." Henry sounded unconvinced but let it go. "I think I found something."

Henry opened the school yearbook for the year 2000. Andrew had been right that the library had a copy.

"I noticed last night... when I also had a nightmare but we'll come back to that... my dad's yearbook was missing," Henry said. "It had recently been removed and I got to wondering why."

"Why?" Chris asked.

"Why did I wonder or why was it removed?" Henry asked cheekily and pedantically.

"What did you find, dumbass?" Andrew asked irritably.

"Well, our dad's all knew each other," Andrew said. "They did everything together... football, basketball, swimming, hanging out... accusing the coach of sexual assault."

The quietness was deafening. They all looked at Henry in disbelief.

They knew their dads had been friends since school but how did none of them know this? Henry held up a picture of the five boys – the friends had been captured in a very handsome photo. They were about eighteen years old. The same age as Henry et al were now.

"His name was Fredrick Summer, a football coach" Henry said.

Coach. Fredrick. Ricky.

"The yearbook was printed right before the accusations were made," Henry revealed. "There's a whole profile on the coach saying what a great guy he was. And there was a photo. Look familiar?"

Henry flipped to another page of the yearbook and turned it for everyone to see the nightmarish face of the man from their nightmares.

"Looks like our dad's made the accusations right after graduation senior year," Henry continued.

"What happened?" Quinn asked.

"Mr Summer was found guilty, appealed and was later released on a technicality. Then went missing," Henry said the last part very cautiously.

"What? What is it?" Andrew asked his stepbrother.

A dark and sad look had come over Henry's face. Andrew put a hand on his stepbrothers shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.

"I've never known why my dad... why he killed himself," Henry said quietly. "But he died the year after Fredrick Summer went missing."

"You think the things are connected?" Chris asked gently.

Everyone had seen Henry's vulnerability at that moment and they all felt for him. Even Chris.

"We're all having dreams. We're all connected. Maybe my dad was Summer's last victim?" Henry speculated.

It wasn't uncommon for victims of abuse to self-harm or commit suicide.

"Maybe it's worse than that," Leroy said quietly. "If this guy is coming after us, maybe it's because of something our dad's did to him?"

"Tried to get him sent to jail?" Quinn said dryly.

"No..." said Andrew and he shared a look with Henry.

They had booth seen how secretive and evasive their dad had been lately. And the things he said.

"...I think they killed him."

NIGHTMARES ANONYMOUS

Andrew, Leroy, Chris and Quinn were all in the school library and glaring at Henry.

Henry had just speculated that they were all connected to the recurring man from their dream, a man who appeared to be a former high school coach who had abused boys including their dads.

Oh, and Henry just accused their dads of murder.

"Dad wouldn't do that," Andrew said angrily.

Henry had never seen Andrew look so angry. Henry put his hands up in surrender.

"Henry, think about what you're saying," Quinn said. "Your dad is a cop. My dad's a lawyer, Chris's is a priest. Leroy's dad is a construction manager. They're not murderer's. They're just regular people."

"I know. My dad was just a regular person too," Henry said pointedly.

"This whole thing is crazy enough without a murder plot," Leroy said gently.

Chris hadn't said much of anything – he was contemplating everything and out of all of them, wondered if Henry's accusation could be true. Could his dad have killed someone?

"Well, it gets crazier," Henry said.

Henry looked around and checked no-one was watching before pulling down the front of his shorts. There was objection from the straight boys but Chris forgot to object and Quinn was always happy to see a penis. However, when Henry exposed his dick, they all looked at what surrounded it. He was wearing a chastity cage.

"This thing appeared this morning. I had a nightmare about being late for school and running and no-one would help me," Henry explained. "I woke up naked in the street and got home. When I woke up again, this thing was on me."

"Can you put that thing away now?" Andrew said.

It felt so weird looking at his brothers penis – stepbrother but they'd been together their whole lives so it was still weird. Leroy had also stopped looking ages ago but Quinn and Chris gazed at the thing with curiosity.

"What is it?" Chris asked.

"It's a chastity cage," Henry said.

"Why are you wearing a cock cage and why are you showing it to us?" Quinn asked. "And also, can I have a picture of it?"

Henry was his best friend and there was an internal struggle for Quinn between looking at dick and not looking at his friend's dick. He made a joke to offset the contradiction.

"Look closer," said Henry.

"No!" replied Andrew and Leroy.

Quinn and Chris looked closer which was a testament to the effect of sleep deprivation that Chris was not closeting his interest. Chris peered closer to Henry's penis. It was contained within a clear plastic prison that had a drainage hole, he assumed so a guy could pee without removing the device. But it would stop someone from getting hard or masturbating.

"It doesn't have a key hole," Henry elucidated.

Chris finally snapped out of it and straightened up, backing away a pace. Quinn stopped looking too but Andrew and Leroy gave each other a glance before relenting and looking at the thing more closely. Finally, Henry put his penis away.

"This has been a bit of a rollercoaster," Leroy said. "We're all having nightmares, a recurring character in the dreams is a guy who went missing twenty-odd years ago and the dreams seem to be conjuring everything from cum to cock cages."

Chris wore a bewildered expression because he'd left during the last meeting when this detail was shared. In a way, it was reassuring because he didn't feel as alone.

"When you put it like that it sounds ridiculous," Quinn said light-heartedly.

"I think we should talk to dad," Henry addressed his stepbrother.

"I really don't want to, Henry," Andrew replied.

"Johnny already knows something weird is going on. He saw you in the bath," Andrew said.

"Your dad saw you in the bath?" Chris asked.

Oh, daddy! There was something about Andrew's fit dad seeing Andrew in the bath that worked for him. It sounded hot. No it didn't. That's gross. Andrew tried not to think about it.

"Yea and the bath spontaneously filled with cum," Leroy replied.

Andrew had told Leroy about it after school and since Quinn barely reacted, it was obvious Henry had already told his best friend.

"You told Leroy?" Henry asked.

"Of course I did, he's my best friend," Andrew replied. "You told Quinn?"

"Of course I did, he's my best friend," Henry echoed.

Only Chris seemed surprised. The swimmer didn't say anything but it was obvious he was trying to assimilate the information.

Chris was a tough character to assess. He didn't give much away and he played his cards close to his chest. He could have been much more popular if he wasn't so serious and sour.

Chris didn't say anything else when he was told about the bathtub full of cum. Fuck, he though the daddy thing was hot! Now Chris was thinking about the visual of Andrew emerging from a bath of spunk.

The dripping, the creaminess, the smell, the greasy stickiness.

Of course, Chris couldn't let on that he was excited by the idea so he sighed and crossed his arms and looked generally put out to still be there.

"Someone has to talk to their dad's about this if we're going to get to the bottom of it. I'd ask my dad but he's in Atlanta for... something," Quinn said vaguely – he didn't have the best father/ son relationship. "Maybe Leroy or Chris could ask their dads?"

"Not it!" Leroy said.

"No way!" Chris agreed.

Henry looked at Andrew, imploring him to agree to approaching Johnny Roberts about it. Andrew was still reluctant to discussing it with his dad. It felt wrong.

"We'll talk about it later," Andrew said grudgingly before Henry could suggest it again.

"So a bath of cum... and a chastity cage... has everyone had something come out of their dreams?" Chris asked.

He recalled that his speedo's had been pulled down after his first nightmare but he didn't share this. Chris also felt a stab of guilt because he already knew about another thing that had been pulled out of the nightmares; Quinn had writing on his back and Chris didn't know if Quinn would want to share this.

If it were him, Chris would not tell anyone.

"Don't think so," Leroy replied.

"I was bullied in my dream and now there's graffiti on my back," Quinn said ashamedly.

Chris was impressed that Quinn was brave enough to reveal this. Should he admit to dreaming about falling into a swimming pool and emerging drenched in spunk? Should he admit that when he woke up he didn't have graffiti on his back but he did have cum dripping out his ass.

He hadn't told anyone that. How could he tell? They would all think he was a homo!

Yet Chris had liked it. He had sneaked into the bathroom to shower and looked at himself in the mirror. Smooth, shaved and tired. Cock had been soft but when he reached around the back, he felt the moistness between his cheeks.

Chris had pressed his finger into the nightmare-summoned spunk and then pressed his fingertip against his asshole. The sphincter yielded and as he pressed his finger inside himself, he pushed spunk into his ass as well.

Is that what anal sex would feel like? The stiffness of a phallus (or a finger) but moist and warm? With his other hand, Chris had fondled with his dick and once he was hard, he squeezed the spongy head. Chris felt a pang of guilt that he was turned on by fingering himself and he was ashamed to enjoy the feel of cum against his finger and between his ass cheeks.

Where had the cum come from? From the dream, obviously, but was it his own or did it come from the sinister man? The coach, the bullying voice that reminded Chris of all his worst fears and loathing. Chris found himself thinking about the good parts of the dream – not the demeaning comments or the threats of his teammates to out him but the way a boy's hand felt around his cock.

Chris's finger slid in and out and he stroked his cock up and down the shaft. He remembered the feel of swimming in spunk and dragging himself naked from the pool.

The feel of the cum as it sluiced off his head.

Cum sluiced from Chris's cock – blasting the mirror with creamy goo.

Before he could regret it, feel shame or contemplate praying for forgiveness, Chris stooped his face towards the mirror and liked his own jizz. The taste was both salty and sweet. He wasn't sure he liked it. The texture was weird and it slid down the back of his throat like jelly or muscles.

Chris had woken up this morning with cum dripping from his ass and Quinn had graffiti on his back. Of the two of them, Quinn had been the worst off and yet Quinn was the braver of the two of them. Quinn could admit what happened to him.

They all seemed able to share details but not him. Chris was alone in all this.

"You didn't tell me that," Henry replied to his friend with a hurt tone.

Henry didn't want to be selfish about it but he and Quinn told each other everything so it hurt that Quinn had kept this secret all day.

"I know. I was embarrassed," Quinn admitted.

"I was there," Chris said grudgingly. "I saw what they wrote on his back. That's how I knew the dream was real when Quinn showed me his back this morning."

He didn't like to admit he was any part of the insanity that was the nightmares on Fig Leaf Street.

"You were looking at Quinn bareback?" Leroy teased him.

Chris blushed brutally and didn't take it as a joke. Being the painfully closeted son of a catholic priest didn't lend itself to self-acceptance. Not for Chris anyway.

"Fuck you, Leroy," Chris snarled.

"Whoa!" Leroy said putting up his hands in surrender. "I was only joking, dude."

"Being bullied," Quinn said.

"What?" Henry asked his friend.

"My nightmares. They've been about getting bullied," Quinn said slowly. "That's my fear."

The realisation that this was what his nightmares had been all about was a relief. It was like a key and now the knowledge was unlocked, Quinn felt freed from the burden of it. A look of realisation crossed Leroy's face as they all took in Quinn's admission.

"My nightmares were about my reputation. My fear is... loss of respect and status," Leroy said.

"Fuck, what is this? Nightmares anonymous?" Andrew asked.

He sounded testy about it and if he was honest, he was irritable – because he was tired, because he felt powerless and most of all because he wasn't ready to be honest about his fears. He was barely able to be honest with himself. Andrew looked at Chris and could see the swimmer would be no more forthcoming than he was. Andrew felt safer knowing he wasn't alone in his cloistered isolation.

Andrew's gaze slid to Henry and he thought his stepbrother was about to revel what his dreams had been about – not the nudity or the sexual undercurrent but the real nightmare beneath the scenarios.

"I think we should get out of here before the librarian throws us out," Henry said.

Henry was more like Andrew and Chris than he was Quinn and Leroy. Henry wasn't ready to face his fear. To really think about what his nightmares had been about.

"Fine. We should all talk again tomorrow," Andrew suggested. "It'll give us all time to think about what we know.

"Is it just us, do think?" Quinn asked as they walked to class. "Just you me, Andrew, Leroy and Chris?"

"I dunno..." Henry replied. "We're assuming Mr Summer is targeting us because of what our dads did but there could be others, I guess."

They were passing a boy moving in the opposite direction. His name was Stanley Cujo and he was a fellow senior.

"Hey Stanley," Henry decided to go for it.

"Hey Henry," Stanley replied.

He eyed the unlikely group of five – an entourage that that didn't typically hang out together.

"Let me ask you something, have you had any weird dreams?" Henry asked.

"Eh... I had a dream of becoming a doctor but my GPA is 2.5," he replied.

"Not what I meant. Also, sorry," Henry replied. "I meant like... naked dreams?"

"I guess going a nudist camp in France might be fun," Stanley responded.

"Ok, cool, you've been a lot of help," Henry said sarcastically.

Stanely looked bewildered while the group moved.

"That was really unhelpful though I will defo be thinking about him at a nudist camp later," Quinn said.

"Ditto," Henry agreed.

"We should work with what we know," Chris said pragmatically. "Let's assume it's just us."

"Maybe knowing the man in our nightmares is Fredrick Summer will help us defend against him somehow?" Andrew posited hopefully.

The other four nodded in agreement but deep down they all knew it wouldn't be that easy. Deep down they hoped that knowing their own fears, and knowing who the sinister man really was, wouldn't make things worse.

END OF CHAPTER V

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:

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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.