The Missile 4
Copyright© 2026 by Zen Master
Preface
Coming of Age Sex Story: Preface - The fourth in a continuing series about how the Missile came to be the man we all know.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa GameLit
‘Missile 1-3’ Recap - If you read them just skip this
Hi, I’m Samuel Alfred McGowan, Sam or ‘SAM’, the ‘Missile’ to my buddies. I’m a ‘Hunter’.
Yeah, so I was just another average kid growing up in Attalla. That’s right next to Gadsden and about halfway up the interstate from Birmingham to Chattanooga. I knew I needed an athletics scholarship to go to college, so I decided to pin my hopes on baseball. I mean, I was a pretty good batter and fielder. If I started on varsity for my last two years, I’d get an offer to go to one of the SEC schools. Sure, I’d prefer Auburn, but any of them would do.
So, I took the summer off. Even on second string for Etowah High’s football team I could get hurt and not be able to play baseball in the spring. And, Alabama summer? Football practice is as early as possible in the morning, before it gets too hot. Getting to sleep late all summer instead of wearing those hot pads during the pre-season practices, yeah, that was a benefit, too.
Nobody could have seen this coming. I’m having trouble sleeping any longer, but that don’t mean I’m gonna actually, you know, get UP! So, the morning after one out of every hundred 15-year-olds all over the world got awarded weapons by the Portal System, I was rolling over when I cut my hand on something. What the...?
And suddenly I hurt. All over. My hand, my back, my neck, my hand, I’d have trouble thinking of a body part that DIDN’T hurt. Of course I yelled! Mom came running. She’s like that, one of her babies is hurt she has to go fix it.
I had no idea what happened. I mean, I was asleep when it happened. Mom cleaned up my cut hand and I went back to bed. Mom was on the ‘net trying to find something that fit my symptoms, and she found some news. She yelled and made me come look.
Well, that didn’t make any sense to me, but it fit. Lots of idiot kids woke up with a pretty shiny magic weapon hanging in the air above them, and they just had to play with it. What happens when you reach out to play with the shiny part of a sword, or an axe, or a spear? Yeah. You get your hands sliced up. At least I was asleep when I did it.
On the one hand, I was a ‘Weapon’, one of the few people who could enter those mysterious ‘Portals’ that had appeared everywhere. That was good. On the other hand, I had no idea what my weapon was. I mean, I was pretty sure it had a sharp edge somewhere, but I’d never seen it. I was asleep! That wasn’t so good.
I didn’t pay much attention to the Portal stuff. I wasn’t going in one of those things! I didn’t even know what my weapon was supposed to be! No, I was a high school kid. I wanted a car, a job, and a girlfriend. Getting a weapon and going into a Portal to get killed wasn’t on the list.
That didn’t work, either. At the school assembly where all the important people told us all the rules that they’d told us when I was in the 9th grade and then the 10th grade, they announced that us Weapons weren’t allowed to play sports any more. It was too dangerous for everyone else. Wait-what? I gotta play baseball!
The government gave me a consolation prize. The US PRA, the Portal Regulatory Agency, had won its fight with the military and had split up into 50 different state agencies plus one for DC and the territories like Puerto Rico and Guam. When THAT smoke had cleared, all that was left of the USPRA, the original federal agency, was a sort of oversight committee that made all the state PRAs play nicely together.
But ... if the Pentagon wasn’t monitoring all those Portals, and USPRA wasn’t monitoring all those Portals, then that meant all those little state PRAs had to, and they were scrambling. They needed bodies who could go into the Portals, and they needed those bodies NOW! SO, all us 15-year-old idiots would get all the help the state agencies could provide. ALPRA -the Alabama PRA- set up some seminars to gauge interest and then some training for those who passed (flunked?) the interest tests.
The Portals wouldn’t allow more than six people on a team. I set up a team of four friends, primarily to ensure that a cutie I’d met was on my team, and as a test ALPRA sent us in the easiest safest Portal they had available, with a pair of real adults to keep us safe.
This turned out to be a mistake. Two of us had been athletes and we understood team play, where we do our part and our teammates do their parts and the team does well. The other two of us, well, one was mentally ready to fight for his life but he didn’t know how and the other, the gorgeous girl I was drooling over, pretty much just froze up when she found herself in immediate mortal danger.
Part of the problem was that we didn’t actually get our weapons until we entered our first Portal. If you knew what it was going to be, though, couldn’t you, you know, find something similar and PRACTICE? Of course, for that idiot Sam, who didn’t even know what his weapon would be, practicing would be awkward.
I had gotten an experienced Diver to lend me a brass machete he’d taken from an ‘Orc’ on a much harder level, and I practiced using it. That way, if I entered my first portal and I got a matched pair of knitting needles like my Dad said I’d get, I’d at least have the machete. Which was made of brass. And didn’t hold an edge much better than a wooden machete would have.
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