I Can Fix Him (Complete story, 1/16/23, Bonus Material added 1/23/23)

[hugeman2]

@TQuintAare you Quinta Brunson, writer and star of Abbott Elementary? Because this is some emmy-award winning writing. 

 

For real I felt so many emotions while reading this. It felt intimately close to dorm life experience as a gay guy, but I also kept wondering what was gonna happen next! Thank you.

[MaritimeMuscle]

loving this story but have to admit it is hard to relate to....but i am trying.   Keep it coming please. 

[TQuintA]

8 hours ago, hugeman2 said:

are you Quinta Brunson

No, I am not.  But thank you for the lovely compliment.

[NeedMore123]

Love it! What a twist!

[dredlifter]

Interesting.  Really not sure where this is gonna go, but you always write quality stuff so I'll be following. 

[TQuintA]

Chapter 4

            After Gabriel came out, things went mostly back to normal between the two of us, and things overall seemed better.  We still hung out a lot, but he started spending time with the sportier lesbians from the LGBT center.  He seemed happier.  In fact, he barely even reacted when he got a postcard from his aunt saying his mother moved to France to live with her.  The news elicited a shrug and a smile.

            Things were better for me too; I began dating more seriously.  I even had two long-term boyfriends senior year.  Well, long-ish term.  Both relationships fizzled out after a few months, but I was putting myself out there.  Giving up on Gabriel killed my mean streak, too.  I hadn’t been catty or rude or jealous in months.  I’d barely been sarcastic.

            And Gabriel kept working out and getting bigger and more handsome.  He was up to 210 pounds of beef when we graduated.  As we were packing up, I watched him lift all our heavy boxes, his biceps flexing, a shadow of sweat forming underneath his pecs.  His shirt seemed to be two sizes too small, and I lusted after him once again.  I knew what was out of bounds, and I wasn’t going to step outside the lines, but he was fucking hot, and you can’t blame a guy for looking.

            “Gotta ask,” I said while we were sitting on our floor on a break, “why do you work out so much?”

            “I like being strong and getting stronger.  Taking up more space.  Seeing how far I can push myself.  If there was steady money in it, I’d be a bodybuilder.  Working out’s a rush, too.”  He shrugged.  “Why ask?”

            “Because you’re ace.”

            “So?” he asked, a confused tone in his voice.

            “In my experience, when guys get as big as you, there’s an erotic component to it.  They’re attracted to big muscle, or they develop big muscles to attract people, or they get off on being bigger and stronger than other people.”

            Gabriel looked at me like I’d been speaking ancient Sumerian.  Ever since Gabriel had come out to me, I found out that he had a lot of weird blind spots when it came to sexuality and sexual attraction.  He always, he informed me, had had these blind spots, but now he didn’t feel compelled to hide them from me.

            “Really?  Guys get big for sex reasons?” he asked, surprised and intrigued.

            “I can’t claim to know the thoughts of every man who’s ever lifted weights, but, in my experience, yeah.”

            “Guys get sexual gratification out of being big and muscular?”  Gabriel was shaking his head in disbelief.  “Really?”

            “A lot of them.  Maybe all of them.  Yeah.”

            “Really?  You’re not just fucking with the ace guy?”

            “Honest.”

            “Huh.  Allos are weird.”  That had become a sort of catch phrase of his when he found people who weren’t ace, referred to as allosexuals in his book, behaving in a way that made no sense to him. 

            Gabriel sat quietly for a few moments pondering over this new information, and then said, “I’ll file that away under ‘Good to Know.’  I just like being strong.”  He flexed his bicep, and it split the sleeve of his shirt.  “That’s why I wore this shirt.  I’ve outgrown it and didn’t want to ruin a good shirt in the move.”

            I turned my pelvis away from him, afraid I might get a boner.

            He saw my pivot, and a devilish half-smile crept across his face.  “Dude, do you get off on muscle?”

            “Shut up,” I said quietly.

            “You’re into beef, but you’re a vegetarian.  I like it.  It’s really cute.”

            “Shut up,” I repeated, a little louder.

            His playful tone gone, he added, “If you’re into muscle guys, I can ask around the gym to see who’s gay or bi.”

            “They’ll think you’re hitting on them.”

            Gabriel nodded.  “Right.  They would at that.”  He patted me on the back, and we went back to packing up.

            The apartment we got was rather fancy—we could only afford something so nice because we were pooling our resources and had been fortunate enough to land pretty decent jobs right out of college.  The complex had below-ground parking and an on-site gym. Our apartment itself had two full-sized bedrooms, a half-sized guest room we were using as an office, a sizable living room, a kitchen, and even a dining room.  The place was a dream.  We had room in the parking complex for both of us to park our cars and for Gabriel to park the motorcycle he was fixing up (a graduation gift he bought himself). 

            The place was nice enough for us to host parties.  At my suggestion, we started having poker nights with some guys from our offices.  I suddenly found myself getting extremely into cooking, and we threw a handful of dinner parties.  Gabriel loved everything I made, and I was becoming a pretty impressive cook.  And, of course, we bought a nice TV so we could watch kung fu films in style.  We even began branching out into action flicks more generally—especially cheesy ‘80s ones with over-pumped macho heroes.  I’d made him watch Predator five times already. 

            It felt like a real grown-up apartment, not a crappy My-First-Apartment. 

            The one downside was sharing a bathroom.  We’d technically shared a bathroom all four years of college, but we’d shared it with 30 other guys, and it was designed to accommodate high volume.  Now that we had one bathroom with a maximum capacity of one, I learned just how much of a bathroom hog Gabriel is.  He took needlessly long showers—sometimes twice a day if he had a particularly heavy workout.  He shaved his face and torso daily.  And his nighttime oral routine took so much time it verged on the pathological.  I would have to get ready for work in under five minutes, and I routinely had to wait thirty minutes or even longer to relieve my bladder.  It was rough.

            I pointed it out to him one night while we were having dinner.  After I laid out the facts, he mulled it over for a second and said, “Sorry.  I’m an only child, and my mom and I had entirely different schedules.  I’ve never had to share a bathroom one-on-one.”  He thought about it for a second.  “How about I only lock the door when I’m using the facilities?  That way, if you need to brush your hair or shave or something like that, you can come on in, and we’ll share.  You don’t take up a lot of space, Auggie.  That’ll get you some extra bathroom time.”

            “What if I need to pee, and you’re in the bathroom?”

            “Well, if I’m shaving or flossing, I can just step out of the bathroom for a sec, give you your privacy.  If I’m in the shower, you can just go—as long as you don’t flush without warning.”

            “You’d be okay with me coming into the bathroom while you’re showering?”

            “Don’t worry.  Shower curtain.  I won’t see you pee.”

            He was being oblivious again.  “But you’d be naked, separated from me only by a thin sheet of plastic.”

            “How is that different than being naked behind a closed bathroom door?  Besides, you’ve already seen me naked.  And, um, well, I’m shirtless a lot.”

            Was he ever.

            As soon as we left the dorms, it seems the moratorium on Gabriel’s shirtlessness had flown out the window.  He often had breakfast in just his boxers, and he would wander around the apartment while he ate, following me with his glistening, hairless chest.  Whenever he came back from the gym in our complex, he’d walk through the door and immediately strip off his shirt.  His muscles would be all red and swollen, shining from a workout, and he’d just stand in the kitchen shirtless, guzzling down a protein shake, chest heaving, bicep bulging, unaware of how godly sexy he was.

            “We can try it out, but I think it’s weird.”

            “I don’t know why.  You shared a bathroom with your older brothers.”

            “Sharing a bathroom with you is different from sharing a bathroom with my brothers,” I insisted.

            “Why?” 

            Was he really going to make me say it?  Again?  Was he really that clueless?

            I stood up at the dining room table and cleared my throat.  “For the thousandth time, I’ve never wanted to fuck my brothers.”

            The lightbulb went off over his head.  “You’re worried I’m going to turn you on or something.  I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said confidently.  “There’s nothing sexy about showers, Auggie.”

            I walked away from him, exasperated.

            As I left, I heard him stand up and ask, “There’s something sexy about showers?  Seriously?”

            A few minutes later, he knocked on my bedroom door.  I opened it, and he asked, “Is that weird shower scene in Starship Troopers sexy?  Was that what was happening?”  I closed the door without answering.

            Despite my misgivings, we tried the new no-lock system.  Well, no-lock if Gabriel wasn’t employing a toilet.  And, much to my surprise, it worked.  I got enough time in the bathroom to get ready for work without rushing, and I didn’t have to hold my bladder forever.  He was right.  There was nothing sexy about it.  I was even okay with coming into the bathroom while he was showering. 

            At least, I was until the incident.

            One night, I came into the bathroom while he was showering to brush my teeth before bed.  Gabriel had had a particularly strenuous workout, and he was showering off the sweat before bed.  As I was rinsing out my mouth, I heard an odd noise coming from the shower.  Something familiar, but also foreign.  It sounded like… It couldn’t be…  It sounded like…

            Gabriel was jacking off.

            He was going to town on himself.  Jackhammer speed, relentless dedication.  With his strength, he could rip that thing off if he wasn’t careful.

            I got out of the bathroom at top speed.  I thought about hiding in my room, but that would have been immature.  Instead, I waited for him in the living room.

            After ten minutes, he came out of the bathroom, fresh as a daisy and dressed in his night clothes: an old t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and a loose pair of boxers.  He still had a towel and was vigorously drying his hair.  I waved him over to sit on the couch with me.

            “What’s up?” he asked, sitting next to me.

            I turned on the seat to face him and put a cushion between us as a little dividing wall.

            “If you’re going to be jacking off in the shower, lock the door.”

            Gabriel nodded and continued drying his hair, nonplused.  After a lengthy, awkward pause, he finally said, “Right.  Sorry.  That’s on me.”

            “Since we’re here, I have to ask, you jack off?”

            “Yeah.”  He looked noticeably uncomfortable with the question.

            “You’re not asexual, then?”

            He stopped drying and looked at me bluntly.  “I don’t want to do anything like that with another person, and I’ve never been turned on by anyone.  This doesn’t change either of those facts.”

            I scooched closer, butting into the dividing wall.  “Walk me through this.  If you don’t get turned on, what do you think about when you jack off?”

            Gabriel scooched away a little.  “I don’t follow.”

            “What do you fantasize about when you jack off?”

            He shook his head.  “I still don’t follow.”

            “Do you think about girls?  Guys?  Jellyfish?  What?”

            “I don’t think about anything,” he said, shrugging.  “Usually, when it gets hard, it just goes away if I ignore it.  But sometimes, it won’t go away, usually first thing in the morning or because of a hot shower.  When I surrender to it, I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and stroke it until stuff comes out.”  Every time he’d said the word “it,” he said it after a slight pause and more quietly, as though it was a curse word.  “Then, when it goes away, and I go on with my life.”

            “You don’t think about anything when you jack off?”

            “You do?”

            “Everyone does.  To speed things up, to slow things down, to make it more enjoyable.  To indulge in fantasy.  Be honest. What do you see in your mind when you jack off?”

            Gabriel thought about it.  “Colors?  I see colors sometimes.  But that might be because of how tightly I’m closing my eyes.  The colors don’t make the process take any less time.  Or any longer.”

            That clicked some things into place.

            “Is that why your showers take so long?  Because you’re jacking off?”

            “What?  Oh my god, no.”  Gabriel leaned forward and quietly asked, “Do you do that every day?”

            I nodded, and he recoiled a little.  “If I had to do that every day, I’d kill myself.  It is so boring and takes so damn long!”

            “You don’t orgasm, then?”

            “No, I do.”  Gabriel nodded.  “Why do you care?”

            Things weren’t adding up.  “If you orgasm, how can you not like masturbating?”

            “They’re fine.  They’re just not worth the fucking effort.”  He shrugged.

            “Orgasms are the best thing ever.”

            Gabriel scoffed.  “Have you never had ice cream?  Or gotten a perfect night’s sleep?  Or finally scratched an itch that’s been bugging you all day?  Orgasms don’t even crack my top 100.”  He said the word “orgasms” very quietly.

            It was my turn to scoff.  “If you’re comparing it to a good night’s sleep, you’ve never had a good orgasm.”

            “You might be right.  Frankly, I’m not willing to put in the effort to find out.”

            Daringly, I added, “You might have a good orgasm if you had sex with somebody.”

            Instantly, Gabriel grew unbelievably pale.  “If I think about that too hard, I’ll puke.  By myself, it’s bad enough.”  He shook off the thought.  “Why do you think I’ve been so careful with my word choices?”

            “Why do you jack off if you hate it so much?”

            Gabriel looked at me indignantly.  “Physical necessity.  Same reason I shit.  That’s not really a pleasant process either.”

            “Shitting’s a daily thing, though.  How often do you jack off?”

            He shifted in his seat and stopped making eye contact.  “As infrequently as possible.  I aim for once a month.  That seems to be what my body wants.  But it might be closer to every five or six weeks because I constantly put it off.  I do it more often when I’m stressed out.”

            “This is so bizarre.”

            “Can we stop this conversation now?  It’s making me queasy.”

            “Right, good.  Sorry.  Good night.”

            “Night, Auggie.”  And he raced into his room and slammed the door shut.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 5

            That weekend, while I was cleaning the kitchen, I got a call from Johnny, my oldest brother.  “Auggie, how you doing?”

            “Just fine, Johnny.  Why?”

            “My anniversary is coming up.  Trina and I have been together for ten years, if you can believe it.  She wants to do a big family barbecue to celebrate.  First weekend in May.”

            Fuck.  I can normally weasel out of barbecues because I’m a vegetarian.  And I can normally beg off family gatherings because Aunt Gladys hosts, and she’s a homophobic monster and her husband Hector is just overall odious.  If it Johnny’s anniversary, I might have to show.

            Johnny continued.  “Mom and Dad already said yes, so did Trina’s parents.  Some of our friends in the area will be there, so will Trina’s brother, and he’s probably bringing a date.  Norm and Sheila are coming too.  It won’t be a real party without you.  Can I mark you down as yes?”

            “You invited all those people before you invited your baby brother?” I teased.

            “I invited all those people first so you couldn’t sneak out of this.”

            “You know me too well.”

            Johnny sighed unhappily.  “Trina’s right.  Since you went to college, we never see you anymore.  We live ten miles from each other, and I never see you.”

            I splashed the water in the sink indignantly.  “What do you mean?  We talk on the phone once a week.”

            “It’s not the same thing, Auggie.  Say you’ll come.”

            I made a noise of non-committal.

            “I know you hate family reunions, but you love hoopla.  I figured if I got the festivities big enough, you’d come.” 

            “I do love hoopla.  And I don’t hate family reunions.”  Quietly, I confessed, “I hate Aunt Gladys and Uncle Hector.”

            “They’re not invited!” Johnny said excitedly.  “I hate them too!  They’re the absolute worst!  Whaddya say, baby brother?”

            I thought about it.  If those two wouldn’t be there, it was an easy yes, but Aunt Gladys had a habit of showing up to places uninvited.

            He interrupted my contemplation by saying, “If you need further incentive, you can bring your boyfriend.  That’d keep Aunt Gladys away for sure.”

            “What boyfriend?”

            Johnny made a noise between a chuckle and an exasperated groan.  “Gabriel.  The boyfriend you’ve been dating for five years.  The boyfriend you mention every time we speak.  The boyfriend you currently live with.  That boyfriend.”

            Matter-of-factly, I said, “Gabriel’s not my boyfriend.”

            “Don’t tell me you two broke up.  There’s no way you can afford your apartment without him.”

            “No, we still live together.  And we didn’t break up because he’s not my boyfriend.”

            Eagerly and happily, Johnny asked, “Did one of you finally propose?  Is he your fiancé?”

            “No.”

            “Don’t tell me you two eloped.  Just because gay marriage isn’t legally binding in Pennsylvania is no excuse to cut your family out of the ceremony.  If you got married without telling us, Norm and I will take turns giving you vicious noogies, and his will actually hurt.”

            “Gabriel’s not my anything.  He’s my roommate and best friend.”

            After thirty unbroken seconds of silence, Johnny simply said, “What?”

            “He’s ace.”

            Thirty more unbroken seconds of silence.

            “Asexual,” I clarified.

            Johnny scoffed.  “I know what ace means.  I just… why are you living with an ace guy?”

            “Because he’s my best friend.”

            “Whatever.”  After a pause, Johnny rushedly added, “He’s invited too.”

            As I weighed the pros and cons of this invite, Gabriel walked through the front door and waved hello to me.

            “You know what?” I said, “I’ll definitely be there.  I can’t vouch for Gabriel, but I’ll be there.”

            Gabriel came into the kitchen.  “Can’t vouch for me what?”

            I held my phone to my chest and said, “Johnny and Trina’s anniversary.  He invited us to a family barbecue.”

            Gabriel grimaced.  “Are Gladys and Hector going to be there?  You’ve told me the horror stories.”

            I shook my head no.

            “Then, I’m in,” Gabriel said, smiling.  “I’ve never met your family, and I think it’s high time I should.”

            I put the phone back to my ear.  “Gabriel’s in.”

            “Excellent.”  Then, a bit defensively, he added, “No presents.  And don’t bring any food.”

            Internally, I thought, “A party centered around the eating of meat?  I’m bringing something.”

            Johnny continued, “And since I know you’ll bring something anyways, bring drinks or desserts.  We have enough sides—and plenty of them are vegetarian, including grilled corn on the cob and macaroni salad.  And if you insist, I’ll besmirch my grill with two tofu dogs.”

            Exultantly, I decreed, “Desserts?  Vegan cream puffs it is!”

            Gabriel fist pumped.  “Make a few extra just for us!” he insisted in a loud whisper.

            Meanwhile. Johnny sighed sadly.  “If they’re vegan, don’t call them cream puffs.  That’s just false advertising.  Call them something like veggie puffs or soy pastries.”

            “How about cashew cream puffs?”

            “Still got the word ‘cream’ in it, Auggie.  You should just call them bland disappointments.”

            “People love my vegan cream puffs!” I said emphatically.

            While pointing at himself, Gabriel silently mouthed, “I love them!  Please make them!”

            Johnny continued.  “Vegans love your vegan cream puffs.  Look, just bring normal cream puffs.  You’re not a vegan, and cream puffs don’t have meat.  Buy them from a bakery for all I care.”

            “Fine.”

            “Thank you.  Barbecue starts at 2.  Most people are arriving around noon.”

            “That’s a weird itinerary.”

            “Trina put a lot of planning into it.  And I totally agree with you.  But if you say that to my wife’s face, I will take her side.”

            “Understood,” I said. “See you next weekend,” I added, hanging up.

            Gabriel looked confused.  “He doesn’t like your vegan cream puffs?”

            I put my phone on the counter.  “He’s never tried my vegan cream puffs.”

            “More for me,” Gabriel said.  “I’ll make it my cheat day.”

            The anniversary barbecue was a festive affair.  Aunt Gladys and Uncle Hector did not show up, and everything, apparently, was delicious.  I have it on good authority that the hot dogs, burgers, chicken, ribs, and steaks were stellar.  The few vegetarian sides were fine, but Norm put bacon in his potato salad (I think just to spite me).

            After sunset, most people left, but Norm, Sheila, Gabriel, and I stayed to help with clean-up.  Well, Sheila, Gabriel, and I stayed to help with clean-up. Norm “supervised.”

            When everything was finally clean, the six of us retired into an impromptu semicircle in the living room to relax and drink.

            “I’m glad you brought real cream puffs instead of the vegan ones you threatened me with,” Johnny said.

            “I’m glad you liked my vegan cream puffs,” I retorted.

            “Those were vegan?” Trina asked, impressed.

            “You twerp,” Johnny said.

            I shrugged.  “I told you people like my vegan cream puffs.”

            “You tricked me.”

            Norm interceded.  “Don’t make me come over there to separate you two.”

            “Sorry, Dad,” Johnny and I said in unison.

            “Everything was delicious,” Gabriel said to Trina, trying to change the topic.

            “You don’t have to lie to impress me,” Trina said.  “I already like you.”

            “I wasn’t lying,” Gabriel insisted defensively.

            Trina snickered.  “I know.  You had four heaping platefuls.  I was teasing.”

            “I don’t know if I like you,” Norm said, leaning in.  “What are your intentions with my brother?” he asked.

            “Don’t answer that,” I said.  “Norm’s always like this.”

            “Letting your boyfriend speak for you?” Norm asked.  “Not very manly of you, muscle guy.”

            Before Gabriel could say anything, I asked, “Say, Norm, when are you and Sheila getting married?”

            “That’s a very good question,” Sheila said, raising a finger and pointing at me.

            Norm was about to back down, when Gabriel said, “It’s okay, Auggie.  I thought they already knew.  I’m not his boyfriend.  I’m asexual.  Ace for short.”

            “Really?”  Trina said, intrigued.

            Sheila leaned in curiously.  “I’ve never met an asexual before.”

            Norm looked confused.  “You’re too manly to be asexual.”

            Gabriel grunted softly, and then said, “You’re too manly to be afraid of marriage.”

            Sheila toasted the air as Trina said, “Oh, I really like you, Gabriel.”

            Norm pressed on.  “If I’m being an asshole, call me out on it…”

            At the same time, Johnny and I said, “You’re being an asshole.”

            Norm waved away our interruption and continued, “But really?  Not even a little spark of something?  Completely ace?”

            “Completely,” Gabriel said.

            He pressed on.  “But if you had to pick.  Someone held a gun to your head.  Would you be gay or straight?  Or bi?”

            “How on Earth could he answer that?” I responded.

            Right on top of my answer, Gabriel confidently said, “Gay.”

            I didn’t expect that.

            The whole room was silent.

            Gabriel looked around at everyone.  “Is that really so shocking an answer?”

            “I’m with Auggie,” Sheila said.  “How would you even know that?”

            Gabriel leaned back, turned his coffee mug back and forth in his hand, and explained.  “When I was still trying to figure out who I was, I dated a small number of people, including Auggie.”

            Internally, I excitedly thought, “So we did date!”

            Gabriel continued, “I had to fake way less with the guys than I did with the girl.  I enjoyed it more, too.  And while I intellectually understand being attracted to men, sorry, ladies, I just don’t see the appeal in women.”

            Sheila, Trina, and Johnny were all stunned silent.  I was stunned motionless.  I’m not even sure my heart was beating.

            Norm pressed even further on.  “What sort of guy would you be into?” 

            Gabriel took a swig of coffee.  “That’s a harder question because I’ve never been into anyone.  This is guesswork.  But I faked the least with Auggie.  So, I’d guess guys like Auggie.  Twinks?”  He looked at me for confirmation.  “Twinks, right?”

            All the blood rushed to my ears.

            Gabriel looked back at Norm.  “My guess is twinks.  What type of men would you be into if you were suddenly gay?”

            “This I gotta hear,” Sheila said, turning to look at Norm.

            Johnny grabbed my arm and barely audibly said, “Come with me,” pulling me into his bedroom, leaving everyone else talking in the living room.  He may be as short as me, but like most men, he was stronger than me.  He closed the bedroom door behind him and locked it.  Once he was sure we were alone, he confided in me, “I don’t think Gabriel’s ace.”

            I tried to move past Johnny, saying, “Trust me, he’s ace.”

            Johnny stopped me.  “Are you sure?  The two of you together remind me of Trina and me.  And no guy would say they’d be gay that fast unless they’ve really thought about it.”

            “He has really thought about it.  He didn’t realize he was ace until, like, two years ago.”  I tried to walk past Johnny again.

            Johnny pushed me back into the bedroom.  “Don’t get me wrong.  Asexuality is a real thing.  Some people are just wired that way.  But some people, it’s just that their hormones are out of whack.  Recalibrate the hormones, they’re not asexual anymore.”

            I pointed at the door roughly to where Gabriel was sitting.  “Have you seen that mountain of muscle?  His hormones are fine.”

            “Hormones are complicated.  It’s not that simple and straightforward,” Johnny said.  To himself, he muttered, “I wonder if he masturbates to orgasm?”

            I resigned myself to Johnny’s questionnaire.  “Infrequently.  But yes.”

            Almost impressed, Johnny said, “Odd you knew that.”

            I shook my head.  “It’s not a hormone issue, Johnny.”

            “Here’s one you probably don’t know.  Are his genitals a normal size?” he asked accusatorily.

            “No, they’re pretty small.”

            Johnny smiled cockily.  “You’ve seen him naked and know what his masturbation routine is.  Sounds like a boyfriend, not a platonic roommate.”

            I defended myself by saying, “I only saw him naked once.” 

            “Likely story,” Johnny said.

            Angrily, I interjected, “I don’t even see him as a sexual object anymore.”  I knew it wasn’t true as soon as I’d said it.

            Johnny’s face showed how little he believed me.

            “It’s like you or Norm.  He’s like a brother,” I lied.

            Ignoring me, Johnny continued his sales pitch.  “What you described screams to me that Gabriel has a hormone issue.  Trust me.  This is literally my job.  My company’s working on a fertility pill for men.  The pill largely augments the amounts of hormones the gonads produce.  The men in the first two drug tests, their sex drives skyrocketed.  Half of them saw some minimal increase in the size of their penis.  And almost all of them put on a little muscle, even with no change to lifestyle.  Most of them only one or two pounds.  One of them, a professional bodybuilder, put on 5.  All of them saw a marked increase in their androgen output.”  Johnny squeezed my left arm affectionately.  “A third and final round of human tests is coming up.  I can fudge his paperwork to get him into the trial.  We tell Gabriel it’s a muscle-building pill.  He’ll like that.  The drugs will correct his hormone problem, and the two of you will be married by New Year’s.  Well, in every way that counts.”

            I tried to walk past him again, saying, “I’m not going to lie to him.”

            He stopped me yet again and held me in place.  “Fine.  We’ll tell him a common side effect is increased libido.”

            I said nothing.

            Johnny added, “Are you worried because this is a drug test and not an approved treatment?  This last round of tests is a formality.  If this were a strict double blind, I wouldn’t even suggest it.  But the pill’s good to go.  We’ll be in pharmacies within 12 months.”

            I still said nothing.

            Tightening his grip, Johnny implored, “I can fix him.”

            I squirmed, trying to break free.  “He’s not broken.”

            Johnny held me firmer.  “I’m your big brother, and I love you.  He’s perfect for you.  You two make more sense than Norm and Sheila.  Let me do this for you.”

            I stopped squirming. 

            Johnny simply repeated, “He’s perfect for you.”

            Acquiescing, I said, “You can offer him the pills, but tell him everything.  Everything.  And remember, it’s his choice.  If he says no, stop pushing.”

            “Thank you.”  Johnny squeezed my arms again, and we returned to the living room. 

            When everyone saw us return, Norm called out, “Be our tie breaker, Auggie.  A trans man is a man even if he isn’t far into his transition yet.  True or false?”

            “True,” I said.

            “Thank you!”  He turned to Sheila and said, “Then if I were gay, I’d date trans men early in their transitions.”

            Sheila groaned.  “You’re intentionally twisting the question in a transphobic way.”

            Johnny sat next to Trina and kissed her cheek.  “What’d you two talk about?” she asked me.

            I responded, “How Sheila is way too good for Norm.”

            Sheila burst out laughing, and Norm defiantly said, “Hey, I’m your brother!”

            “And we like her more than you,” I said.

            Grumpily, Norm said, “You’re doing your own taxes this year.”

            “Worth it,” I replied.

            Sheila, pretending to pout, said, “I don’t want you to punish him.  I like him.”  She turned to me and asked, “Do you like camping?  I can’t do your taxes, but if you have some vacation time, I am a master camper.”

            “I’ve never been.”

            Gabriel shook his head.  “Auggie doesn’t do well in nature.”

            “It’s barely rustic,” Sheila replied.  “It’s more ‘glamping’ than camping.”

            “What the hell is glamping?” I asked.

            “Camping, but luxurious and glamorous,” she responded.

            Gabriel nodded, “That sounds more Auggie’s speed.”

            “Excellent.  It’s settled.”  Sheila turned back to Norm and stuck out her tongue.  The two began bickering almost immediately.

            Gabriel leaned over to me and quietly asked, “What did you and Johnny really talk about?”
            “Johnny will tell you in a bit,” I reassured him, and we rejoined the conversation.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 6

            Three days later, the pills Johnny promised arrived in the mail.

            “You know he’s trying to cure you, right?” I asked.

            “Fully aware,” Gabriel said calmly, taking the first pill with a glass of water.

            “He said we’ll be married by New Year’s.”

            Gabriel put the bottle in the kitchen cabinet where we kept some aspirin and antacids.  “Is that a proposal?  I’d need to see a ring first.”

            “This isn’t funny.  He’s trying fix you.”

            Gabriel nodded and reassuringly put his hand on my shoulder.  “I got that message when he told me he could fix me.” 

            He moved to leave the kitchen.  Like I was sharing a secret, I asked, “Are you trying to fix yourself?”

            Gabriel stopped where he was and laughed loudly.  Then, without turning around, he emphatically said, “I’m not broken.”  There was something in his tone I couldn’t pinpoint.

            “That’s what I told Johnny, but…”

            Gabriel turned around to look me head-on.  “Johnny’s a stand-up guy, but he has a very narrow world view.  He sees his whole life through his job.  His career as a scientist is to fix men who want to have a baby but can’t.  He looks at me, a man who doesn’t even want sex, and he sees a problem to overcome rather than a person.”

            I nodded wordlessly.

            Gabriel continued, “It never even occurred to him that I might have already had a whole hormone study done.”

            “What?”

            “Do you remember when you kissed me?”

            Of course, I remember that.  I have sex dreams, stress nightmares, and combo sex/stress dream-mares about that night.  Out loud, I said, “I think so.”

            “I went to the doctors the very next day.   If I didn’t want to kiss my boyfriend, something was wrong.  The doctor did a complete analysis, blood tests, checked all my hormone levels; I was there all day.  Two weeks later, the results came back.  My hormones are perfectly normal.  He condescendingly suggested that a strapping young lad like me was likely straight, even if it wasn’t trendy to be so.  He told me to find a nice girl.  That that’d fix things right up.”  Gabriel harrumphed.  “He was no help.”

            Quietly, I asked, “I was your boyfriend?”

            “Really?  That’s the detail you focus on?”

            Louder, I continued.  “Yes!  I thought I was imagining things!  You were so hot and cold back then.”

            “Well, you weren’t imagining anything.  We were boyfriends, I just didn’t want to kiss you or anything.  Sorry.”

            “If you know your hormone levels are normal, why take the pills?”

            Gabriel moved closer to me in the kitchen.  “I have three very good reasons and one shallow reason.  Reason 1, I hope we’re friends forever, which means I have to get Johnny to lay off.  Taking these pills and coming out the other side asexual will do that.”

            “That it would,” I agreed.

            “Reason 2, as much as I tell myself that I’m not broken, there’s this annoying, nagging voice at the back of my head telling me I’m not actually asexual.  That stupid voice tells me that taking these pills will make me want to have mad, passionate sex with you, and we’ll be, what’d Johnny say?”  He thought for a second, “Married by New Year’s.  Taking these pills and coming out the other side asexual will make that voice go away.”

            “That voice will never go away,” I warned him.  “I have one telling me I’m straight no matter how many guys I fuck.”

            “Good to know,” Gabriel said.  “Reason 3, about half the time I tell someone I’m asexual, they ask me if I’ve had my hormones checked.  And when I say I have, they asked if I’ve had them double-checked.  It’s why I don’t tell many people I’m ace.  Taking these pills and coming out the other side asexual, I’ll have a scientific study to throw in their faces.”

            I nodded, pleased with his answers.  “What’s the shallow one?”

            “A common side effect of these pills is increased muscle mass.  I’m going to dedicate myself to getting as big as possible during the trial.  I might not be able to be a professional bodybuilder, but I’ll take the opportunity to get bigger.”

            “And thanks to Johnny, the pills are free.”

            “Yeah, I’m not going to lie.  If all I had was the shallow reason, I probably still would’ve done this.”

            I chuckled.  “So, you just take the pills, and that’s it?”

            “Nope.  I’m going to lift six days a week, up from five, and I’m adding three more hours on top of that—an extra half hour per visit.”

            “Not what I meant.  Johnny just gave you these pills to take, and that’s it?”

            “Oh, no.  For the next six months, I have to go to his clinic twice a week.”

            “Six months?”  That seemed excessive.

            “Well, if I stay the whole course.  Any longer than six months, and my body becomes dependent, and I stop producing my own hormones.  But, I’m free to quit at any point during the six months.  It’s one of the reasons they want me at the clinic so often.”  He looked around the kitchen.  “Now I’m feeling snack-ish.”

            Gabriel clearly thought the conversation was over, but I still had questions.  “Why else do you have to go to the clinic so often?”

            “To check on my progress and vitals.  Stuff like that.  He’ll be taking footage of me naked, too.  He says it’s for the study, but—the way he said it—I think he’s just going to send those videos to you, so be on the lookout for that.”

            “What?”

            “He got my signed consent to share the footage with,” he paused for a second to recall the exact wording, “‘non-medical consultants with a vested interest in the outcomes.’  That sounds like a non-pervy way of saying, ‘Can I send the videos to my baby brother?’”

            “He didn’t.”

            Gabriel shrugged.  “Feel free to watch them.  You’ve already seen me naked.  And since you’ve stopped trying to have sex with me, you seeing me naked doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers you.”  Gabriel grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen counter and walked away eating it.

            I stayed in the kitchen, dumbstruck.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 7

            That first week after he started taking the pills, I could already see a difference.  His clothes started getting tighter, especially in the chest and shoulders.  It was subtle at first, sure, but I was very aware of what Gabriel’s body looked like, so even the mildest change was like a neon sign.

            One of the changes I noticed was that I could see stubble.  He was shaving just as frequently as he ever had, but it was growing back just a little bit faster.  My silky smooth Gabriel was getting a little fuzz.  Not so much as to be distracting, but enough so as to occasionally draw my eye.

            Another change I noticed was how much he was eating.  Gabriel was always a big eater—he had to be to support his muscles.  However, I noticed him packing two meals for lunch in the morning.  He tried to hide it from me, but I saw it.  There was also a lot more fresh fish and chicken in the fridge, and lord knows I wasn’t buying or eating any.

            The other change I noticed was Gabriel adjusting himself.  I’d never seen Gabriel scratch himself in public or rearrange his junk, but twice in the first week, I saw him reach down and adjust his junk when he thought I wasn’t looking.

            I got an email from Johnny that night.  As Gabriel had suspected, it was the video from his visit to the clinic.

            It started with a brief interview, in which Gabriel was identified as Subject 3-18.  He was asked if he noticed anything irregular this first week.  He shook his head no.  They asked if he was taking the pills as directed, and he nodded.  They asked if he’d made any significant changes to his lifestyle in the past week.   He shook his head no.

            “Liar,” I said.

            The video then cut abruptly, and now it was without sound.  It was just Gabriel naked in a non-descript, white-walled room.  He looked bigger.  His pecs were rounder, his abs crisper, and his biceps looked pumped like he had just come from a workout.  Again, a person who hadn’t fixated on Gabriel’s body as much as I had might not have seen the difference, but to me it was a stark increase.  Gabriel in the video turned around, and I got to see his ass and back.  They were defined, and a little more primed than I remembered.  When he turned back around, I noticed that his dick and balls looked bigger.  I thought it was my imagination at first, or a trick of the light, or the camera doing something.  I’d only seen them once before, after all.  But, at the end of the video, there was a chyron that read:

Subject 3-18

Weight: 97.5 kg

Body Fat: 11%

Flaccid State: 5.7 cm

Erect State: 9.6 cm

            My brother, ever the scientist, had failed to convert for me.  A quick Google told me that was 215 pounds, 3.8 inches erect.

            No way Gabriel had been that big when I saw him naked.  I looked closer at his balls in the video, and they looked red and swollen.  It seems the pills were going to have an effect on him.

*

            Throughout the next week, I watched as Gabriel’s clothes grew even tighter.  I especially liked the way his work pants were beginning to show off his ass.  The back seam separated the cheeks so perfectly, highlighting and cradling each one lovingly.  His thighs, too, were beginning to stretch out his pants, creating swells on either side.

            He also started loosening his ties as soon as he got home and throwing them on the living room couch.  He had never left his ties on for very long after he got home, but he normally made it to his bedroom before he took them off.  I was going to ask him about it, but then I noticed that his neck was a little thicker.  Poor Gabriel had been tying them too tight.  So, I suggested he leave them a little loose at work.  He smiled and said, “Would if I could, Auggie.  Would if I could.”

            That second week, he also started shaving twice a day instead of daily.  I only noticed because there was suddenly hair in the bathroom sink, and he’d always been so immaculate before.  It already took him forever to shave, so he seemed entirely put out by it, and was just getting a little lazy.  I cleaned it up for him without making a fuss.

            I also noticed that he was beginning to fidget a little, like he was having trouble sitting still.  I only noticed it twice, both times when he was trying to concentrate.  It happened once during poker night, and once during an intricate spy movie.  The fidgeting wasn’t anything worth worrying about.  But it was noticeable.

            I probably would’ve noticed more, but with all the extra time he was spending at the gym and both of our jobs, I saw him less than I usually did.  This was good because it meant less time to get turned on by him, but bad because I missed my friend.  I wasn’t sure what exactly to do.

            I got another email from Johnny at the end of the second week.

            It again started with a brief interview.  He was asked if he noticed anything irregular this week.  He nodded emphatically. 

            When asked to elaborate, he said, “My body hair is thicker, I’m voraciously hungry, and…”  He trailed off.  The interviewer prodded him, and he said very quietly, “I masturbated last night.”

            The interviewer, obviously confused, asked, “How is that irregular?”

            “I masturbated two weeks ago.”

            “How often do you usually masturbate?”

            “Every six or seven weeks.  Less?”

            “I’ll note that in your file.  Did you notice an increase in seminal fluid?”

            A disgusted look crossed Gabriel’s face.  “Are you kidding?  I shot it into the toilet and flushed without looking.”

            The interviewer handed him a plastic cup.  “The next time you masturbate, save us a sample of your output.”

            “Seriously?”

            “Seriously.”  Unhappily and reluctantly, Gabriel took the cup. 

            They asked if he was taking the pills as directed, and he nodded.  They asked if he’d made any significant changes to his lifestyle.   He shook his head no.

            The video then cut abruptly to the soundless white-walled room. 

            Gabriel was definitely bigger.  There was a noticeable shadow under his pecs, and his arms looked flexed, even relaxed.  His shoulders also seemed broader than I’d seen.  Gabriel in the video turned around, and I stared intently at his ass.  It was bigger than last week, and it seemed firmer, even over video.  When he turned back around, I noticed that his dick and balls were also bigger again.  His cock and balls were starting to look normal-small, not small-small. 

            At the end of the video, there was a chyron that read:

Subject 3-18

Weight: 99.3 kg

Body Fat: 10.9%

Flaccid State: 6.4 cm

Erect State: 11.2 cm

            Another quick Google showed me Gabriel was up to 219 pounds, 4.4 inches erect.

            I called Johnny.  “Why are you sending me these videos?”

            “You said you’d stopped seeing Gabriel as a sexual object.  In case you were telling the truth, I’m fixing that too.”

            “It’s creepy.”

            I could hear his grin over the phone, “Then delete them without watching them, you horny liar.”

[Trippin]

Oh boy oh boy oh boy. Those continuations started good and became even better! Great work!