Burnout

When I took on a double major – Engineering and Computer Science – I never thought it'd be easy. I also never imagined it’d be this hard.

I’m in my third year of school and I’m at my breaking point. I’m taking seven classes and four labs and tutoring at the student centre for cash. Sometimes I watch the freshmen walking around campus, chatting and laughing like a bunch of carefree idiots. I want to grab them by the shoulders and scream.

There’s a group of jocks who live in my dorm. Soccer, swim, football, this school’s got it all. They’re all here on free-ride scholarships and pass/fail grading. I haven’t seen one fail, but who cares? They’re just here to chase a ball around. They spend their time horsing around in the cafeteria and having sex with anything that moves.

I don’t want to make out like I’m some kind of holier than thou asshole. I’ve got friends, just like everyone else. Some nights we hit the pub, some nights we play a board game, but most nights we get together for study sessions.

I really need a couple of weeks off. Somewhere tropical with a bar that serves fruity drinks with little umbrellas. Maybe that sounds gay, but it’s what I need right now. Of course, it’s February in New England, so all that is impossible.

I needed another way to deal with the pressure. In my experience, knowledge is the silver bullet. If you find the right book, you can usually find the answer to your problems.

So i did what I always do. I headed for the library.

One of the librarians there, Dr. Thompson, has always shown a special interest in me. He helps me track down research materials, figure out problems, and even asks how I’m holding up. To be real, I suspect he’s been waiting for my meltdown.

I wove my way through the crowded study areas, cutting past the front desk and down the back stairs. I knew that place like the back of my hand. The research librarians are all down there, in a row of offices that reminds me of a prison.

“Knock knock,” I said, pantomiming a knock on Dr. Thompson’s door. He always kept it open, always telling me to drop by anytime. A lot of the research librarians keep strict office hours, but not Dr. Thompson. He wants us to reach our full potential, and that means that he’s always available to help.

He looked up from a heavy book and smiled.

“Blake,” he said cheerfully. “What can I do for you today?”

“Hey Doc,” I said, greeting him with easy familiarity. “I’ve got kind of an unusual request.”

“Still trying to find a solution for P = NP?” he asked. “I promise you, if it was published, you’d know.”

I grinned. He knows I like to chase impossible problems. Whoever cracks that one is going to have his name immortalized for the next thousand years. That’s Da Vinci level stuff. Turing. Russell.

“No,” I chuckled. “Far more pedestrian I’m afraid. I’m having some trouble coping with stress this semester. I was wondering if you had anything that could help me relieve the tension.”

“Have you considered marijuana edibles?” Thompson asked with a raised eyebrow. “No, of course you haven’t. You’re always out to rely on knowledge, aren’t you Blake.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Maybe some sort of meditation technique? Or biofeedback?”

“Hmm...” Thompson thought for a moment, putting me under close scrutiny. “I suppose I do have something in the stacks... but Blake, I need to warn you, you’ll have to make some sacrifices.”

“That’s fine,” I sighed. “Doc, I feel like I’ve been walking around like a zombie this semester. I feel like someone ate my brains and I’m just shambling through my classes. Honestly, midterms are next week, and it’s a coin flip if I’ll pass ‘em.”

“I assure you, your brains are intact,” he said reassuringly. “And if you were a zombie, you’d be looking to eat brains. What you’re dealing with is burnout – it’s common enough. It’s just what happens when we push ourselves too fast and too far.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. I’d heard the word before, but I always figured it was just people making excuses. “So how do I solve it?”

“Well... you could always take a year off school?” he suggested. “Give yourself time to rest up and adapt to what you’ve already learned.”

“Or...” I said, letting it hang in the air. There was always another solution. Something that wouldn’t make me a failure.

Dr. Thompson sighed and put down his book. He reached for his laptop and opened it, typing for a few moments until the printer whirred to life.

“I put together this file some time ago,” he said. “As you know, I’ve made it a point to know all the gifted students here, yourself included. It was only a matter of time until one of your burned out and needed some help to make it through.”

He handed over the paper. It was a simple list of six books.

• Mantras for the logical mind
• Exercises in memory and recall
• Reading writing & arithmetic.
• A gymbros guide to working out
• How to dress for success
• Le petit mort

The last one gave me pause – I don’t speak French, but maybe there was an English edition.

Each title had a number beside it. That’s the dewey decimal reference, so that I could find the exact shelf and section it was in.

“I think these will help,” he said. “The first three will help you relax your mind.  The last three will help you cope with stress by using your body. I know it’s a bit of a scavenger hunt, but I think it’ll be worth your time. At the very least, you’ll get a couple of hours of wandering the stacks – I know how much you love that.”

That was true. I felt most at home in a library.

“Thanks Doc,” I said. “I appreciate the time. I’m sure I’ll find this useful.”

“Of course. And Blake...” he smiled warmly. “It’s been a pleasure to know you.”

--------------------

The Dewey Decimal system is like GPS coordinates for books. The sections feel pretty random sometimes, but each number maps to a specific part of a specific shelf. Basically, if you’ve got a number, you can find the book, no matter how big the library. It’s like Google Maps before Google existed.

I started with the top book. Mantras for the Logical Mind. It took me about five minutes to zero in on the right shelf and find the right book.

At least, I thought I found the right book. The title was printed against a abstract cover, but when I cracked the book open it was blank. Page after page of empty paper, like a prank that nobody had ever discovered.

“Huh... guess Doctor Thompson didn’t actually read these,” I muttered, flipping through the crisp white pages. For a minute I wondered if it was a Buddhist thing – some sort of subtle reminder that a logical mind was a clear mind. Or was I looking for philosophical meaning in a printing error?

I was about to put the book back, when I noticed a single line of black text on the first page.

“A logical mind is a clear mind,” it read. Weird, that was just what I’d been thinking. As I stared at it, another line typed itself into existence – “Don’t look for philosophy in a printing error.”

I dropped the book and took a step back. I’d just had two thoughts and now they were there on the page. Neatly typed in black and white.

There had to be a logical explanation. Things don’t just happen. I picked up the book again and flipped to the first page.

“Thing’s don’t just happen,” read the third line. The next line said “A implies B. B implies C. Therefore A implies C.”

Line by line, the book was filling up. After a minute the first page had filled. I recognized some of the thoughts from my math classes, and some of them were just ideas I liked to ponder. I flipped through the pages, watching the text appear out of nowhere. It was getting faster.

For the first time in forever, I felt confused. Was the book sucking this stuff out of my brain somehow? Making a copy of my thoughts? I flipped back to the first page and read a line out loud: “A implies B, B implies C, therefore A implies C.”

No... that didn’t come from my brain. Sure, I knew all the words, but I couldn’t figure out what that meant. It was like reading in a foreign language. I could sound it out, but that didn’t give meaning.

I rubbed my forehead. Whatever... I’d figure it out later. Just collect the books like I’d been told. I didn’t need to understand it...

I pulled Doc Thompson’s paper from my pocket and looked at the next book on the list. It had a number next to it – the Dewey Decimal number, right? Somewhere in the library I’d find a matching shelf with ‘Exercises in Memory and Recall’.

Glancing down the stacks, I tried to find the right number. It wasn’t on the shelf where I was standing, and none of the nearby ones looked right either. I picked a direction at random and started walking, reading the shelf numbers as I went.

About a half hour later, I finally found a match. God, this is a stupid system. Lucky for me, the book was on the shelf.

I opened up ‘Exercises in Memory and Recall’. Just like the last book, this one was blank. Well... mostly blank. At least there was a question at the top of each page, and a big blank area to pencil in your answer.

“Do you understand how the US government works?” asked page 1.

I mean... yeah, but I’m not an expert. I know there are three branches. That the executive is the weakest branch because the founders were trying to avoid a monarchy. That the legislative branch is the most powerful, because it reflects the will of the people. I know a bill is written and placed in the hopper and debated and voted on and eventually it becomes a law.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized my head was filled with random facts. They spilled out onto the page in front of me, forming neat little lines of type.

Page two. How many major scientific principles can you name?

There are the obvious ones. E = MC^2. Gravity. Inertia. And then there’s stuff that’s closer to the realm of math. P = NP? like I was talking about with Dr. Thompson. Or Big O notation? It was like the book was pulling them out of me, spilling down my answers onto the sheets.

Eventually I filled the page and then the margins. I guess they shoulda made a bigger book! I chuckled, looking at all the technobabble spewed out on the page. I recognized some of the names, like E = MC^2... everyone knew the phrase, but I had no idea what it actually meant.

Oh well, time to turn the page. Page three had an easier question – what was my college major? I could feel the knowledge being pulled form my mind again – Computer Science and Engineering. I read the words... they seemed familiar, but again... what did they mean?

And what was my major anyway?

I leafed through the whole book. The farther I got, the faster the pages filled. And all of it was nonsense. Dr. Thompson had to be playing some kinda trick on me. None of this stuff made any sense.

Whatever. I grabbed the list and checked the third book. I was looking for ‘Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic’. At least I knew what that meant!

It took me another half hour to track down the book. Like... I know the numbers mean something, but why couldn’t this shit just be alphabetical? Look under ‘R’ for reading, that kinda thing?

Eventually though, I found it. And surprise surprise, the book was half empty. It looked like the kind of worksheets you’d do in elementary school, where they’d ask you a simple question and you just had to write the answer down below.

I flipped through the pages, letting my mind fill in the blanks. The moment my eyes touched a question, the answer got sucked from my mind and pasted onto the page.

Page seventeen: Define the word polyglot. Well how the hell am I supposed to know? At least it was right there on the sheet.

Page twenty-two asked me to find out how long one side of a triangle was using something called the pythagorean theorem. That seemed kinda familiar... had I seen it in ‘Exercises in Memory...?” Whatever, the answer was right there in the book...

Somewhere past page two hundred it asked me to write the alphabet in cursive. Bro, I don’t even know what that is! I guess it’s those little squiggly words teachers are always writing, or like you see on a doctor’s note or whatever. Nobody ever taught me that stuff... I type everything anyway...

I got spellcheck and autocomplete and grammerly. I don’t need to know how to spell shit.

I stared at the books. Doc Thompson’s a rad dude, but why did he have me on a wild goose chase, looking for all this random bullshit. Like... I have trouble remembering anything! Who’s got the space up there to memorize formulas?

And why would you bother? Just google it.

I’ll admit, I was kinda pissed. I felt like I wasted half my afternoon looking up trivia. Maybe it’s stuff that nerds need to know, but I’m a... shit, what was my major again? Whatever, I was in college, that proved I was smart! I didn’t need to fill my head with garbage.

Still, I had more books to go. I counted down the list carefully... three more books. I was gonna be there all night. The signs were so confusing, just these numbers everywhere. I couldn’t even concentrate long enough to sound them out.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I got lost in the stacks. There’s too many books anyway. Nobody needs ‘em. It’s dumb... this should all be a webpage.

“Hey, can you help me,” I’d say, stopping other students and pointing to the next item on my list. “I need to find uh... a... gym... bros... guide... to... wor... king... out...”

They’d take a fast look at the page and point in some random direction. It seriously felt like everyone was fucking with me. Sometimes I’d go the right way, but the next guy I stopped pointed back where I came! Someone had to be filming this shit for likes, right?

Lucky for me, I ran into this big wrestler dude.

“Uh, hey...” I said, scratching my head. “I’m lookin’ for a book. Do you know how to find stuff here?”

“I dunno buddy,” he said, staring at his own list. Fucker only had one book to find. Course, I didn’t know where it was either. “Maybe I can help...” he said.

We wandered around together for like... an hour. His name was Clay, and he wrestled on the school team. Pretty cool guy – I mean, not like I’m a jock or whatever, but Clay was friendly and confused like me, so we made a good pair.

“You found a bunch of books already,” he grinned. “Isn’t that enough? Like... you’re seriously gonna read all that?”

“I dunno dude,” I sighed. “I told my buddy I’d find ‘em all.”

“I guess I’m not the dumbest guy on campus,” Clay laughed. “Hey bud, I think this is your shelf!”

Clay walked off, searching for his own book. I went over the shelf slowly, sounding out each title til I found it. A gymbro’s guide to working out.

I got surprised. It wasn’t empty. Fuck... that was a lotta words...

At least there were pictures. I stared at the first page, which was mostly just pictures of exercises with little tiny words under them. While I tried sounding it out, I realized the words weren’t playing fair. They were starting to move around on the page, flowing down to where my hands gripped the book and onto my arms.

Whoa... it was like an instant tattoo... but like a movie tattoo. I watched the words and pictures move up my arms til I lost sight of ‘em. Eventually the first page was blank, but I knew a little more than I used to. Bench Press. Deadlift platform. Squat rack. Yeah, it was some basic names for gym equipment.

I flipped to the next page and started all over again. Page two showed a muscular guy with a big ass, squatting down with a heavy ass weight. After a minute of checking out the pics, the words started to flow again and I realized they were crawling up my arms... up my neck... right into my brain!

Whatever happened with the other books, this was like... the opposite.

I was learning shit. Fast!

I knew how to do a back squat. Where my knees should go. How far apart my hands had to be. How to rack the weight right. I felt my ass twitch, like the exercise was sinking into my muscles.

Each page went faster and faster. Pretty soon I could just glance down and the page would get sucked into my brain. Nerds would kill to learn this fast... and with each page I felt more muscles twitching. Getting bigger with everything I learned...

By the time I got to the end of the book, I knew everything I needed. Resistance training, progressive overload, optimal nutrition...

And I looked the part too. Who knew how it happened, but the book was blank and I was a muscle bro!

Fuck yeah. Maybe books weren’t total bullshit.

Before I was confused, trying to track down the right numbers on the shelves. Now I was a fuckin’ beast... confused, and trying to track down the numbers on the shelves.

“Uh, hey,” I kept rumbling in my newly deep voice. “Can you help a guy out? I gotta find this book...”

Turns out, when you’re a muscle stud... girls actually stop and give you directions. Three different girls tried to lead me towards the right shelf, and none of them stopped twirling their hair.

One of them went as far as picking the book off the shelf for me. It was more like a magazine than a book, glossy and big like a Sports Illustrated. There was a photo of a big black guy on the cover, dressed in a chest-hugging white button-down shirt.

“There you go,” she said, flirting with her whole body. “How to Dress for Success... though I bet you look good in just about anything.”

She pulled out a pen and jotted her number down on the cover. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a walking barbell.

I waited for her to go away before I flipped open the book. I was worried it’d be empty and somehow I’d end up naked. Not like she’d mind...

Lucky for me, it was filled with bright full page spreads of muscular jocks like me. Some of them were in the office, wearing tightly fitted dress shirts and suit pants. One was on the beach in a speedo, showing off his muscle and his junk all at once. A couple were at the club – leather, neon, there was a whole section of those. All of it flowed up my forearms and into my brain.

But my clothes didn’t start to shift until I got to a college jock on campus. He wore these tight ripped up jeans and a plain white t-shirt that ended up hugging my chest. By the time the book had changed me, I was wearing a letterman jacket and I had a backpack over one shoulder. I gave it a quick check... duh, it was filled with gym clothes.

I used to dress in badly fitted jeans and hoodies. I could still pull off a hoodie – one of the guys in the magazine had one that hugged his pecs so hard you could see the shelf... but everything was fitted now. You could see my nipples poking through the thin fabric of my tee.

Another book to the rescue. These things weren’t just stealing my smarts... they were giving me a makeover too! I ran my hair through my short hair, gelled up into a messy set of spikes. It was totally nineties... don’t ask me how I knew.

There was just one book left on the list. I gotta admit, I was pretty worried for it. My memory sucks, but I knew this one was in French. I don’t read French. I barely read English.

Whatever, I had to find it first. I looked around for another chick who might lead the way, but I guess it was getting pretty late. I could see the sun going down outside, and it seemed like there weren’t very many people around anymore.

But I had to find someone. I was turned around and confused and I still had another book to find. I wandered around for like... a really long time til I found my way downstairs, back to the front desk.

“Hey...” I said, shuffling up to the bored student who was working the front desk. “I uh... I’m lookin’ for a book and I’m not really sure how to find it.”

I handed him my list and pointed.

“It’s the last one.”

“Le Petit Mort,” he smirked. “Yeah, you’ve got the number here already. Just go upstairs and follow the signs until you find it.”

“I... uh...”

“You don’t know how, huh?” he chuckled. “Okay, follow me.”

He lead me up the stairs and past a bunch of books. It only took a minute til he was pointing at the shelf.

“Right there,” he said. “We run a session every Saturday if you want to drop in and learn how to navigate the system. I’d recommend it.”

“Thanks bud,” I said. I pulled out the book he was pointing at. A dusty old hardcover that had seen better days. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” he said. Just as he rounded the corner I heard him mutter under his breath. “Fuckin’ meathead.”

I flipped open the book. I had no idea what I was gonna find. Maybe I’d end up speakin’ French or something.

It was a guide to gay sex positions. Every page had illustrations, pairs of men, sometimes three, with hard cocks and muscular bodies. I couldn’t believe the library had this!

I flipped through the pages. It had everything – from missionary to cowboy to just sucking each other’s cocks. It was disappearing off the paper as fast as I could turn the page. Just like before, the book was getting sucked into my brain, leaving me with a perfect understanding... I knew exactly how to make a man cum.

Shit... just thinking about some dude’s hairy ass was getting me hard. And getting a cock in my hole... I could feel my ass loosening up at the thought. I mean... I thought I used to like girls, but...

Dude, I used to be a skinny little brain. Now I’m a slutty muscle stud. All I gotta do is fuck and look pretty! I laughed out loud... I came in here cause I was too stressed... but you don’t gotta be stressed when you look like me!

All you gotta do is have fun. And I was gonna have so much fun.

Too bad I didn’t have anyone to practice with. At least that’s what I thought. Then I turned around.

Clay. The wrestler who helped me find a book earlier. Damn he was looking fine.

Probably straight. Guys like that always are.

“Hey,” Clay said, giving me a long stare. “Dude... did I run into you a couple hours ago?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “You were awesome.”

“You were skinny,” he said. “Fuck bro... weren’t you lookin’ for the idiots guide to the gym or whatever...”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “I’m an idiot. And I learned a lot about the gym.”

“Fuck yeah,” Clay grinned. “You’re pretty fuckin’ hot.”

“I’d fuck me,” I said confidently.

“I’d fuck you too...” Clay agreed. “You know... it got pretty quiet in here...”

He lunged forward and planted one hand on my shoulder, the other one on my waist. One foot swept my legs out from under me and suddenly I found myself on my back, pinned down under Clay’s weight.

“Maybe you wanna fuck right now...” Clay grinned.

I grinned and tried to fight back, but it was no use. I knew a lot about clothes and cock, but Clay knew how to wrestle. He kissed me hard. his hand gripping my balls, the other one holding down my head.

I guess he knew a lot about sex too.

“You like that,” he grinned, squeezing my balls just hard enough to make my heart beat faster.

“Yeah,” I nodded. His muscle against mine. I was a beast, but he was in control. “Fuck me Clay... I want you to fuck me!”

Pretty soon my legs were up over his shoulders and he was eating out my hole, getting me wet enough for his cock. My jeans were tossed aside, crumpled in a pile under a shelf. I was screaming in ecstasy. How come nobody told me...

Fuck this felt so good.

“Knock knock,” I heard a voice say. Dr. T, tapping gently on the bookshelf behind us. “Sorry guys, it’s a library... you gotta be quiet. Maybe it’s time to head back to your room?”

“Uh, yeah... sorry Doc,” I said, scrambling for my pants. I let out a dumb laugh. “I guess we got carried away.”

“Boys will be boys,” Dr. T shrugged. “It’s good to see you relaxing. And Clay, nice to see you again. I hope everything’s going well in your life.”

“For sure Doc,” Clay grinned, buttoning up his jeans again. “Wrestling’s really working out.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Dr. T chuckled. “Now I think you’d better head home.”

We took his advice.

--------------------

My nostrils flared when I entered Clay’s room. It smelled like sweat and cum. I hoped my room would smell that way soon enough.

He pushed me onto the bed and pulled off his t-shirt. It was one of those school branded ones – honestly they’re a little cringe, but who cares. The dude was hot, shirt or no shirt. He stripped off his jeans and shoved down his boxers, wasting no time letting his cock hit the air.

I followed suit, losing my letterman jacket and tee, letting him tug off my jeans and a jockstrap without any protest. A second later his tongue was back in my hole, eating me out and making me squirm.

Clay and me... we’re physical. We didn’t waste time talking... he just lubed up my hole and pressed his cock into me. I’d never taken a cock before and for a second I was shocked... it didn’t look that big, but I could barely take him.

Lucky for me I read that book. I loosened my hole up just like it said, and he started sliding inside me all easy. It only took a minute for us to find our rhythm. Him thrusting his thick cock inside, making me see fireworks with every hit. Me riding it, sliding myself further down and squeezing the cum out of him.

I don’t know how long we fucked. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.

All I know is he exploded inside me. I left his room with cum dripping from my hole and a wet stain on my chest.

--------------------

I felt so sexy walking back across campus. I was on autopilot, my head in the clouds and my mind in the gutter. Every dude I passed looked fuckable. Big, small, fat, skinny... man, I love men. If a dude’s down to fuck, I want it.

But when I saw a gymbro like me... I could barely stop from drooling.

My room felt wrong. It was just like I remembered it, but... why did I have all those books and papers and stuff? That was all smart stuff and that’s not me anymore. I gathered it all up in a garbage bag and ditched it out in the dumpster. Homework is so dumb. Who needs it?

I was only at college for the dick anyway.

I was just back inside when there was a knock at my door. There was a dude standing there, maybe forty or fifty years old. Whatever... I can fuck a daddy.

“Hey,” he smirked. “You’re Blake.”

It was a statement, not a question. I answered him anyway.

“Uh, yeah,” I grinned. “You wanna fuck?”

“I’m Coach Cartwright,” he chuckled. “You’ll be joining the rugby team. We don’t normally scout talent mid-year, but Doctor Thompson called and... well, it happens. Sometimes guys burnout, and it’s a shame to lose a student.”

He tossed me another book. Goddamn it, these guys want me to read everything.

“Rugby: A Pla-yuh’s Guide...” I sounded out.

“Open it,” he said. So I did. Just like the other books, this one flooded my brain with new information. Scrums. Passes. Formations. I went from zero to hero in no time flat. The information flowed into me like water.

I wanted to play. I wanted to win.

And then I wanted to fuck.

And then I wanted to lift.

“Bro...” I said, staring at the blank pages. “I wanna play.”

“Good,” Coach nodded. “You’re on the team. This is yours.”

He tossed me a gym bag with the school logo. Sick... I was part of the team. I pulled out one of those school branded tee’s. Yeah... I was gonna rep the school so hard...

And then there was a tiny little pair of shorts with the same logo. And a pair of cleats...

“You’re late for conditioning,” Coach said. “The team’s expecting you.”

I threw on my uniform and ran for the field.