sci-fi Misfit, Chapter One

[umlerian49]

Hi everyone!

 

I'm reposting this story from the old forum as an opportunity to shamelessly plug my next book, Berkeley Daze #3: The Summer of Our Disconnect, due out on October 1 on Devine Destinies. You might remember my other story series' The Wide Prairie Sky and Big New World, both featuring shy, nerdy, but suddenly huge and muscular Alex Johnson and his often rascally boyfriend Ryan Miyashi. These were collected and adapted into a 6-book series A Growing Lad, of which I remain immensely proud (they're not getting me any closer to buying that private island, I'm afraid).

 

The Berkeley Daze series is a prequal. It doesn't feature anything other than natural muscle growth, but it's the sweet, funny, sometimes sad story of Ryan Miyashi and how he goes from shy, nervous, closeted bookworm, to the self-confident, life-loving adult that we know from A Growing Lad.

 

Here's the good part-- My publisher is going to be offering the entire Growing Lad series as a set at half-price, to coincide with the release of The Summer of Our Disconnect. Such a deal!

 

I'd really like to hear from you in the comments; not just about the following story, but whether you like me posting such blatantly commercial messages here on this forum, think me a scoundrel, or really don't care. I figure the worse that can happen is nobody buys the books.

 

Without further adieu--

 

Misfit

 

By U.M. Lassiter

 

Chapter 1

 

 

“Fucking piece of shit.”

 

Hamish Conner wanted to snap his computer keyboard in half. That is, if he could.

 

Problem was, Hamish, or Ham, as his so-called friends called him, was pathetically weak. As a deeply-closeted 19-year-old gay man, he had studiously avoided anything remotely akin to sports or exercise, for fear that should he show the slightest amount of interest in any of those things, his secret would be out, and he’d be destroyed.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t long for those things. Once he’d admitted to himself at age 15 that he was gay, he’d also determined that he had a major thing for muscles– the bigger the better. That was when he’d also given up his beloved high school Drama Club, the better to maintain his deep cover. It didn’t matter that he was cast as a straight-as-an-arrow cowboy in Oklahoma!, it was still musical theater.

 

Fortunately, he had the internet through which to live out his life as a vicarious muscle freak. It had been tricky when he still lived at home. He had loving and supportive parents, but he just knew that if they learned he liked boys, it would simply kill them. He couldn’t do that.

 

And yet, he had needs to be met. He spent countless hours diligently searching the web for images of his favorite bodybuilders. He discovered morphs and then muscle stories. The ones that turned him on the most described unbelievable, unattainable growth. Where most teens his age were out dating and socializing in the evening, he was at home in front of his computer “studying,” always followed by a nice long shower before bed. Still, he felt dirty. The only time he felt safe with his thoughts was in bed, when he could pull the covers up over his head and let his fantasies run wild before drifting off to sleep.

 

By that time, he was old enough that he could demand and expect a certain amount of privacy in his parent’s home. He rearranged the furniture in his room so that if someone walked in on him unannounced, they wouldn’t immediately see the computer screen. He became obsessed with learning how to surf the web anonymously and how to cover his tracks. 

 

Little by little, he gained the confidence to start visiting gay chat rooms, and he started constructing his online identity. His life as musclup32 seemed more real than his actual life. Online, he had friends he could talk to that understood him and shared his interests. In the real world, he had nothing. 

 

In the real world, he was a true science geek with a fearsome intellect and a penchant for quantum physics. Could he be any more different from his peers? At least his image as a science geek gave him cover for spending hours alone in his room in front of his computer. His parents were impressed by the hours spent “studying,” when in reality, his homework was long since finished. He didn’t let anyone get to know him, lest they learn his shameful secret. 

 

Arriving at college was like opening up a locked door. He’d gone through high school on autopilot and still graduated with honors. Not quite valedictorian, but damned close. At least he didn’t have to make a speech. He didn’t even attend the ceremony.

 

At college, he finally started to feel like an adult. He could come and go on his own schedule. His General Ed courses were pretty boring, but he was usually able to pass with a good grade and a minimum of effort– and attendance. He was able to get some upper class courses, and these actually seemed worth his time, as was time spent in the quantum lab.

 

His roommate for his sophomore year was pretty cute, even if he was straight. Paul was on the lacrosse team and was a pretty nice guy. They’d been roommates last year, and that was when Paul asked Ham if he was gay. 

 

The first time it happened, a bolt of terror went through his body, much the same as one feels when the pilot instructs the passengers to brace for a crash landing.

 

No one had ever asked him so directly before, or in such a matter-of-fact way. In the past, someone might call him a faggot and he’d flush bright red and flee, fighting to control his trembling emotions.

 

At first, Ham denied it of course, but Paul’s complete lack of guile or judgementalism wore him down, and he finally admitted his sexuality to someone else for the first time ever. Later, he would realize what a pivotal, liberating moment this was in his life, but at the time, he simply felt like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

 

Paul was an amazing young man. He’d extracted Ham’s deepest, most shameful secret, yet hadn’t shown any inclination to use it against him. To the contrary, he gave Ham his solemn word that he wouldn’t mention it to a living soul without his permission. What’s more, he gently started encouraging Ham to explore the local gay scene. Why not get to know the people at the campus LGBT club, he’d suggest.

What’s more, Paul was built. Ham couldn’t ignore that he was living with a piece of prime-beef eye-candy. At first, Ham hid his furtive glances; the habit of a lifetime of shame. Once the pair had established the truth, Paul didn’t seem the least bit self conscious in front of Ham, and casually maintained various states of undress appropriate for a men’s dorm. Ham was simply in awe, not just of Paul’s lithe, athletic body, but also of his complete security in his manhood. He simply didn’t care if Ham stared. In fact, he was flattered.

 

Ham, on the other hand, was just as uptight as ever about his body, and strove whenever possible not to be seen even with his shirt off.

 

On this particular evening, Ham’s computer was not cooperating. He wanted to check in with is buddies in the muscle growth chat room, but he couldn’t log in successfully. He didn’t know if it was the docking port or the keyboard, or if there was something wrong with the site. He needed his muscle fix. His frustration was reaching dangerous levels when the door opened.

 

“Hey, Hammie,” Paul said as he entered the dorm room. Ham didn’t like being called Hammie, but every time he looked at Paul, he forgot why. Paul was just back from the showers; a towel wrapped around his slender but powerful waist and his muscles glistening. As soon as the door was closed, he pulled off the towel and used it to dry his still-soaking hair.

 

Ham was still wound like a spring over his computer problems, and Paul’s display wasn’t helping.

 

“How... how...”

 

“Was practice?” Paul answered as he stepped into a pair of jeans.

 

“Um...”

 

“It was great,” he said. Paul threw the wet towel over the back of a chair and sat down. “I’m ready to pulverize a middie when we play State.”

 

Ham had no idea what that meant.

 

“Could you, like...” Ham waved his finger toward a pile of clothes.

 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Paul pulled on a tee shirt. “Sorry.”

 

Ham knew that Paul really was sorry, but even though Paul knew Ham’s secret, he was still scared like hell to be in the presence of his shirtless roommate. All those years of keeping eyes front or at his feet for fear of someone noticing him staring and then beating the shit out of him. His mind knew that he didn’t have anything to fear from Paul, but he couldn’t shake that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt pathetic.

 

Paul scooted his chair over to where he could see the computer screen.

 

“Problems?”

 

Ham relaxed a little.

 

“It’s the numbers for this experiment,” he said. “There’s some kind of glitch in the data, and I just can’t find it. It’s right in front of me somewhere.” He hadn’t even told Paul about the gay chat rooms and wasn’t ready to.

 

“Ouch,” Paul replied. “Well, you know you’re asking the wrong guy.”

 

Paul was a kinesiology major– a jock right down to his toes.

 

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting your help...” Paul cocked his head to one side and gave Ham a wry look. “You know what I mean!” he backtracked.

 

“Yeah, I do.” Paul broke into a wide grin. He put his hand lightly on Ham’s shoulder.

 

“Listen,” he continued, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m seeing Sarah tonight.”

 

Ham’s heart skipped a beat at the touch of his studly roommate. He also knew what he was asking. He wanted Ham to stay clear of the dorm for a few hours. It was an inconvenience, but it was really the only inconvenient thing that Paul ever asked, and since he was so nice to him the rest of the time...

 

“I do have a lot of work to do at the lab,” he answered.

 

Paul gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze and Ham’s heart fluttered once again

 

“Ham, you’re the best,” he said, giving him a little shove. “I know you’d do the same for me. Speaking of which, gettin’ any?”

 

Ham flushed bright red.

 

“I, I, I...” he stuttered as he got to his feet.

 

“I’m sorry,” Paul said. “That was mean.”

 

“No, it’s just that I have to get to the library.”

 

“I thought you were going to the lab.”

 

“Um, yeah. After the library.”

 

As Ham moved toward the door, Paul stood up.

 

“Listen Ham,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

 

“No, you didn’t embarrass me,” he said and bolted from the room.

 

Paul sat back down and leaned his face against his hand.

 

“That boy just needs to lighten up,” he muttered.

 

 

Ham went scurrying across campus trying to get his thoughts organized. Why did he let himself get so upset? Paul didn’t mean anything, and he knew it. Yet, even with him, he just got all flustered if the situation even slightly left his comfort zone– and that zone was damned tiny.

 

At least he didn’t run off without his laptop and his backpack, the way he’d done too many times before, to Paul’s good natured hoots.

 

He made for the library. He could find a nice quiet study carrel where he could surf the web in peace. He’d have to be careful if he used the library’s wi-fi system, as they frowned on porn. He’d stick to the chat rooms in case someone happened to glance over his shoulder.

 

It was going to be a long evening. Paul usually wasn’t finished “entertaining” until well after midnight. If he went back any sooner, he’d just find that annoying sock on the doorknob, and have to get lost again.

Why not post a sign that said “Don’t come in– I’m fucking my girlfriend!” What a horndog. Of course, if Ham had a boyfriend, he wouldn’t be able to kick Paul out fast enough. He’d get a really, really big sock. With stripes.

 

Who am I trying to kid, Ham thought. The idea that he’d want anyone, even Paul, to know he was fucking a boy; even as much as he would like to, repulsed him. Sometimes he wondered how he’d lasted this long without jumping off a bridge or something.

 

Because he was a coward, that’s why. Not even in his darkest hour had he considered suicide. Because it would probably hurt. If he had any kind of a real threshold for pain, he would have come out by now. He was sure that it would be painful

. 

Ham found his quiet corner of the library and opened his computer, and for a blessed hour, he lost himself in his fantasy world.

 

“You really should get out more.”

 

Ham nearly slipped off his chair as the quiet voice whispered in his ear, so close the he could feel the speaker’s breath on his neck.

 

“What the fuck!” he blurted as he jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair.

 

“Shhhhh!” 

 

Ham turned to face a nice looking man about his own age with short blond hair and icy-blue eyes. He was holding his left index finger to his lips.

 

“You know this is a quiet zone.”

 

The young man was Lee, from the Reference Department. Ham knew him to be friendly, helpful, and queer as a three-dollar-bill.

 

“You were looking over my shoulder,” Ham said angrily.

 

“Quiet zone!” Lee tipped his head forward and raised his eyebrows in that totally gay way that Ham hated. His comfort zone was suddenly a hundred miles away.

 

“I was just going,” Ham said as he snapped his computer shut and started packing up his things

.

“You don’t have to leave,” Lee said. 

 

“I, I, I...”

 

Lee gently put his hand on Ham’s forearm. Without thinking, Ham recoiled. He turned to look, meeting Lee’s eyes. Those deep, blue eyes...

 

Ham froze for a moment before tearing his gaze away and going back to stuffing his things in his bag.

 

“It’s okay,” Lee said in a librarian murmur. “You can stay. C’mon, sit down.” 

 

“I should really— I need to– it’s important...”

 

“Please?”

 

For reasons he couldn’t fathom, Ham found himself sitting back down in his chair. Lee pulled up a chair and sat behind him.

 

“See how easy that was?” Lee said.

 

“What do you want?” Ham asked suspiciously. The corners of Lee’s mouth turned up slightly, suggesting just a hint of mischief.

 

“Nothing,” Lee answered. “Nothing at all. I was just being friendly.”

 

Red lights and sirens were going off in Ham’s head. A lifetime of experience was telling him to run like hell. And yet, he didn’t.

 

“You need to be a little more careful with your web surfing here in the library,” Lee said. “How about coffee?”

 

 

That was how Ham found himself at the Student Union with Lee, staring down at his coffee cup, his backpack in his lap and his arms wrapped around it. Every few moments, he heard the crash of the bowling alley in the basement.

 

“How do you know my name?” Ham asked.

 

“Sheila down in circulation told me. I told her I spotted a cute guy.”

 

Ham’s stomach flip-flopped, and he felt his face flush.

 

“I’m not gay,” he said quietly.

 

“Sure. Whatever.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“And you’re not musclup32, either.”

 

Danger! Danger! 

 

Ham looked up from his coffee in shock.

 

“How... how...” he stammered. “I gotta go...”

 

Ham made a break for the door.

 

“Ham!” Lee called out.

 

The cool air of the autumn evening played on Ham’s cheeks as he hurried away across campus. He didn’t slow down until he arrived at the bottom of the stairs in the basement of the Physical Sciences building. He paused a moment to catch his breath and listened for any following footsteps, but heard none. With a feeling of relief, he waved his access card in front of the reader and entered the quantum lab.

 

He made his way through the office cubicles assigned to the grad students, grateful that no one seemed to be around. Passing through another door, he entered the lab itself.

 

The quantum lab was where physics experiments were designed, built and run. Ham had always noted the paradox that the smaller the particle studied, the larger the equipment had to be. The lab was cavernous, taking up nearly the entire basement of the building, and extending down into the sub basement at the far end, where the largest experiments were assembled. Ham hurried down a steep metal stairway to the lower level and negotiated the maze of pipes and tanks and strange devices until he found what he was after.

 

There was a small desk in an out-of-the-way corner of the lower level. It had a small lamp and a chair, but importantly, there was a network plug right next to it. As the giant scientific instruments loomed above him in the darkness, Ham opened the bottom drawer, took out a network cable and plugged in his laptop.

 

He called up his virtual private network that allowed him to bypass the university’s servers as if they weren’t even there. He didn’t like to do it very often, because of the charge to his credit card.

Ham started to relax. He logged onto the muscle growth chat room and started reading the latest postings.

 

Why didn’t he come to the lab in the first place, he thought. He knew the answer– it’s usually more private at the library. Now that he was at the lab, he couldn’t believe his luck that no one else was there. 

Ham lost himself in the postings, and the time went by quickly.

 

It was after ten when a private message popped up.

 

Ham, I just want to be your friend. Lee.

 

Ham jumped up and backed away from the desk. He started pacing back and forth. Finally putting a lid on his agitation, he sat back down.

 

Why? he replied.

 

I like you. You’re nice.

 

Ham stared at the screen. Another line popped up.

 

I’m studlee69.

 

Shit. Studlee69 was one of his favorite posters. He’d poured out his heart to him.

 

Ham thought he’d never be able to go to the library again. Shit, shit, shit.

 

He started pacing back and forth between the desk and the railing next to the massive equipment.

 

“Hello? Anyone down there?”

 

It was Professor Lofgren.

 

“It’s me, sir, Ham Conner.” 

 

“Kind of late, isn’t it?”

 

The professor was looking down from the top of the stairs.

 

“It’s a nice quiet place to study,” Ham answered. “The library closes at ten.”

 

“I see,” the professor said with just a hint of skepticism. “Well, I’m just going to check on a couple of experiments, and then I’ll be off to home. That’s probably where you should be.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Make sure the door closes behind you.”

 

Ham went back to the desk. There weren’t any more messages from Lee, and he sat there for a few minutes numbly staring at the screen, trying to decide what to do.

 

From the other end of the lab, he heard Professor Lofgren tinkering with his experiment, occasionally muttering to himself. The man did that a lot, to the unending amusement of his students. Soon, Ham heard receding footsteps and the closing of the door. He glanced at his watch.

 

“Maybe Paul is done with his ‘date’,” Ham said to himself. It was just a few minutes after eleven.

 

He powered down his computer and put the network cable back in the drawer. He put the computer in his backpack, slung it over his shoulder and climbed the steps to the main level of the lab.

 

At the far end of the lab, something caught Ham’s eye. It was the professor’s experiment, and it was flashing a red light. He walked over to the apparatus to get a better look.

 

The main part of the setup was a large, stainless-steel pressure vessel about the size of a refrigerator. It was cylindrical in shape, and had several small viewing windows at various points. The windows gave off a weird glow that seemed to alternate between purple and green.

 

As he got closer, Ham became increasingly concerned. The large access door bolted to the fron of the chamber seamed to be leaking a fine mist. The red light that had first caught his eye he could now clearly see was labeled “OVERPRESSURE.”

 

Whatever was happening, it seemed a pretty sure bet to Ham that it wasn’t right. He dropped his bag and went over to the adjacent computer terminal. The screen showed several bar displays monitoring the processes going on inside of the chamber, and several were in the red zone. He reached for his phone to call the professor and started backing away from the screen.

 

Before Ham could even start dialing, a loud buzzer sounded, startling him so badly he dropped the phone. The computer screen started flashing alarmingly.

 

“Oh, shit!” Ham yelped. Before he could react further, another, larger leak started spraying from the chamber door. The wet, sticky vapor seemed to leave a gray, sparkly residue, like some kind of high-tech glitter.

 

Ham tried to move, but he was frozen with fear that the tank was going to explode at any second. One of the bolts holding the door suddenly broke and whizzed across the room like a bullet. This was the final incentive Ham needed to flee.

 

As he started to turn, the door failed. Ham was engulfed in whatever was in the chamber, and then everything went black.

 

[arpeejay]

Always great to see another of your stories! Thanks for posting this one here!

[ThePecman]

Fantastic opening -- can't wait to see where you take it. Good work, Umlerian!

[muscle16a]

Love it so far!

[hempmonkey]

I remember this story from the old forum. It's pretty fantastic. Looking forward to re-reading the whole thing!