Kyler's Lucid Wet Dream

Fan fiction, crossover universe (seaQuest, Star Trek, Terminator, others). Characters: Lucas Wolenczak, John Connor, Wesley Crusher, alternate universe version of the author as himself

Kyler has a lucid wet dream...But it begins like a nightmare in a police station in Yoknapatawpha County...

"Your boy here..." the cop said, checking notes, "this Kyler Fey kid, raped a boy named John Connor. We have it from that kid's parents and a couple other witnesses. So there's not a lot else we can do, you see?" The cop is not old, but he slumps with the weariness of someone decades older. He sweats through his shirt. It's July and very hot in the station's little interrogation room. A ceiling fan barely turns overhead.

Kyler looks at his lawyer, a young public defender sent over from the county court house and who'd spent maybe three minutes reviewing his case, to say something in his defense. But she just frowns at him and shrugs. Then, after a few moments, she says, "Well, he is still a minor." Kyler feels something sink in his gut: she isn't going to even try to do anything for him.

"Don't matter," says the cop, lights a cigarette. "He's not that much of a minor. What he did gets treated same as if he was an adult. You know that."

Kyler, trying to keep his voice even, strong, says, "Look. I did not rape him. I totally admit I fucked him but I did not rape him. He wanted it. We both did."

The cop shrugs, sucks down smoke. "Doesn't matter. Queer fucking is a crime in this county. A boy can't fuck another boy and have it be anything other than illegal faggot rape." He frowns at the lawyer, blows smoke at Kyler. And Kyler wishes he could have a cigarette. "You know that, counselor. Nothing else to be done about it now."

"Well," she says, "can't you just have him castrated like you did with Benjy Compson?" Kyler gapes at her, stunned, imagines his nuts being cut loose from their sack, maybe with a jackknife from the cop's pants pocket.

"That was a girl that he raped. This is different. Raping a girl ain't a death penalty crime, and that Compson kid's a retard besides. This whole situation is totally different." He shook his head slowly. "And you know that."

The gas machine...

The cops cuff Kyler's legs and arms to the legs and arms of the heavy iron chair, and he pisses his pants, a dark ooze of urine soaking through his jeans, overflowing the denim and trickling onto the seat beneath him. The boys screams and sobs are muffled when they fit the stiff leather mask over his face and mouth and strap it tightly around the back of his head. No last meal, no last words, no chance for appeal was offered: the sixteen-year-old queer boy was taken directly from the meeting from the public defender into a cinder block-walled jail cell that doubled as a death chamber, his short life sentenced to end for the crime of fucking another boy. Before the mask is put on, blotting out his vision, Kyler sees the device of his death. It's a fat dark green canister that sits in a heavy metal rack, its surface adorned with dials and gauges and giant buttons, its top crowned with rust. Black hoses snake from it, coiled like gigantic phone cords, each terminating in its own death mask. It's possible, Kyler thinks, to kill ten guys at once if they want to. He can't see what happens next, but it sounds like a heavy switch is flipped and the metallic chugging of an air compressor commences. He imagines one of the cops turning a heavy mold-glazed dial on the front the device and a loud hiss emits from a tank inside it. Gas flows through the tube linking that tank to Kyler's mouth and nose. The boy tries not to inhale, but it's impossible to resist the lung-invasion of the poison. In about five minutes, he is dead.

I don't know how you got here!...

"What the fuck dude!" said a loud voice somewhere behind me over me or maybe underneath me. My head felt hollow, like it had opened up and spilled out into a huge cave, and I couldn't see anything. "Did you piss your fucking pants, Kyler? Do you always wet the bed?" I finished waking up and saw where I was: on a bunk in a cabin on Lucas's submarine.