Page 4 of Bound by the Mad Scientist

Kel removed his arm from my shoulder. “Fuck off, Bryce. He’s new here, and straight. I like him, so don’t scare him away.”

“Chill out, bro. I’m just fucking with you.” Bryce sized me up. “New meat, huh?”

He was about my height. I tilted my chin up a bit, then pulled my shoulders back. Why did I do shit like that? “Yeah. Just transferred.”

“What did I say about scaring him? Now take your dollar store costume and get off the keg,” Kel said.

“At least I bought something, and didn’t just wear my old-ass glasses and school-owned lab gear.” Bryce chugged his beer, then said, “Later, lovebirds,” before walking off.

Kel said, “I’ve known him since we were little. He’s a dick but a good guy. When he’s sober, at least. Ready?”

I went first, and Kel told me what to do at every step. I didn’t want him to know how many keg stands I’d done in high school, or that I held the record for the longest one both my junior and senior years.

Before I held Kel up, he took off his glasses and lab coat. The coat did look familiar. Bryce must not have been kidding. But those couldn’t be his glasses. They were huge, and thick as bulletproof glass.

Shirtless Kel was a sight to behold. Perfect proportions, hard, hairless chest, and a rippling six-pack underneath. His strong shoulders matched his arms with sculpted tris and bis. When the hell did he find time to hit the gym so much?

I could appreciate when a guy put the work in on his body. It was obvious as I held him up, with a view between his legs from behind. I kinda thought he could do it on his own, from how little stabilization he needed from me. But feeling his butt pressed to my stomach, and watching his abs contract as he gulped…

“Woo!” Kel hopped up and shook his body like a dog trying to dry itself as soon as I let go. He put his coat and glasses back on, then said, “Ready for a shot?”

“Yeah, man.”

The kitchen was decked out to look like an abandoned hospital, with a stained gurney, IV bags filled with neon liquid, and real medical equipment covered in rotting blood. Syringes of every kind of liquor served as shots and littered the surfaces like candy.

We picked up two clear ones that I hoped were vodka, not gin, and squirted them in our mouths, leaning against a countertop.

“Were those really your glasses, or was he just being a dick?”

Kel took a second to swallow. “Yup. I was born with terrible vision.”

After a beat of silence, I realized he wasn’t going to say anything else. “So, what happened?”

Kel lowered his voice a bit. “My dad gave me a treatment when I was younger. Helped a bunch.”

“No shit? Really? No way.”

“Yes way.”

“So you went from… those to twenty-twenty because of something your dad did?”

“Yup.” His eyes and lips made my head light.

I stood up, wobbly, but not from the booze. “Did I ever tell you I wear contacts?”

Kel surveyed me from above his glasses, arms folded, still leaning against the counter. “No.”

“I have a retinal degeneration thing, and my vision is getting worse. I just got these contacts six months ago, and they’re already too weak. There’s no way I’ll keep my scholarship if it gets any worse.”

“That sucks, man.”

“What do you mean that sucks!” I threw my arms up. “Can your dad help me out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he can’t.”