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


TQuintA

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Chapter 17

            The next morning, I came out of my bedroom just as Gabriel was getting back from the gym.

            “Morning, bud.  Wanna have breakfast together?”

            “Sure, but, I should let you know, Douglas is still here.  Is that going to be a problem?”

            Gabriel smiled broadly.  “Not even a little.  Is he awake?”

            “I tired him out.  Let him sleep in.”

            Gabriel’s smile somehow grew broader.  “Alright.  I’m so glad things worked out.”

            As we got breakfast out on the table, I internally struggled with how to tell Gabriel the next thing.

            “Out with it,” he said as he pulled out my chair.  “I can tell when you’re holding back.”

            I sat heavily; Gabriel sat too.  “Douglas and I have decided to date, but he was very clear that he was only interested in an open relationship right now.  He’s not opposed to it becoming monogamous somewhere down the line, but right now, he wants to keep dating other people.”

            “Oh,” was all Gabriel said, but his tone conveyed volumes: disappointment in Douglas, disappointment in me, sadness, a dollop of judgment, and just the teeniest sprinkling of anger.

            “He was very open and honest,” I repeated, “and, frankly, I don’t think I’m in the right headspace for a traditional relationship right now either.”

            “I thought you were past hooking up.  If that was what you really wanted, I’d say nothing, but it doesn’t make you happy, Auggie.”

            “It’s not hooking up,” I insisted.  “It’s a real relationship.  We’re going to go on dates.  Do the romance thing.  Introduce each other as boyfriends.  But we’re not bound to each other.”

            “That sounds like hooking up, but more expensive.”

            I shook my head no emphatically.  “We set ground rules.  Just like you and me did.  If one of us wants to have sex with someone we both know, the other person gets veto power.  No threesomes without mutual consent.  Any person we ask out independently has to be told before the date that we’re in an open relationship.  If we interrupt the other’s date, no lying.  Check-ins at least once a month to make sure we’re both still happy with the relationship.  Above all, safe sex only.”

            As I finished the list, Douglas came out of my room, stark naked.  “Morning, men,” he said, saluting us.

            “Douglas, House Rules include wearing clothes in common areas,” I chided.

            “Right, sorry, I just came out for a glass of water, then I’ll go back and get dressed.”

            As Douglas got himself a glass of water, Gabriel approached him at the sink and got right in his face.

            “Morning, Gabriel,” Douglas said.  “We seem to lack personal space in the A.M.”

            “Are you just using Auggie to get to me?” Gabriel asked, trying to suppress the anger in his tone.

            “What?  No!” Douglas said.

            Right on top of him, I scolded, “Gabriel!”

            “You’re both adults, you can make your own decisions, but I don’t want some guy stringing Auggie along if he doesn’t mean it.  Auggie’s too good for that.”  With that, Gabriel poked Douglas in the chest so hard that Douglas wobbled.

            “I respect the protective vibe,” Douglas said, “but Auggie and I laid everything out last night.  If he had said no, I would’ve respectfully let him be, just like I did you.”  Douglas poked Gabriel in the chest just as hard, but all it accomplished was Douglas hurting his own finger.

            “He asked us both out, Gabriel,” I said, a comment that drew Gabriel’s eyes to me.  “The date last night was for both of us.  He thought we were a couple; he knew we were a package deal.  He wanted to date me as much as he wanted to date you.”

            Gabriel snapped his head back to Douglas for him to confirm.

            Douglas raised three fingers on his right hand and tucked his pinky behind his thumb.  “Scout’s honor.”

            Gabriel raised a dubious eyebrow, fully aware that Douglas was mildly—mildly—mocking Gabriel. 

            Douglas continued, all mockery gone from his voice.  “Dating men has completely changed the way I view romance.  I wanted to give polyamory a try, see if it’s a fit for me.  You two seemed like a safe, friendly, familiar place to start.”

            Looking at Douglas, still confused, Gabriel returned to his seat.  Once seated, he said, “Well, alright then.  I guess that’s a horse of a different color.”  He didn’t sound too convinced, though.  He knew an apology was in order, so he blurted, “Sorry I went all aggressive there.  Can I blame the pills?”

            “Can I get dressed?” Douglas asked.

            I nodded, and he beat a retreat to my room.

            “What was that about?” I asked Gabriel, swatting him ineffectively.

            “I didn’t want him using you.  You deserve better than that.”  Gabriel shook his head.  “I said as much.”

            “Thanks, but you signed my permission slip.”

            “I thought he was going to start a romance.  Long, romantic walks?  Sunset picnics?  Starlight kisses?  That sounds like a guy for you.  I wanted you to have romance because I think you need it.  I think you’re unhappy without it.  For months now, I’ve seen unhappiness in your eyes.  If I could give you romance, lord knows I would, but I can’t reciprocate.  I wanted you to have something normal.  Boy meets boy, they fall in love, flowers and puppies and midnight gondola rides… whatever guys in love do.”  Gabriel rubbed his eyes frustratedly.  “I barely understand normal romance.  Polyamory is hieroglyphics.  If you’re happy, I drop all objections, even if I do not understand this.”

            I stroked his arm affectionately.  “I’m happy.”

            Gabriel nodded aggressively, and we finished our breakfasts peacefully.

            With that drama behind us, life settled into a new normal.  Douglas and I were casually dating, enjoying the night life in a way I never could with Gabriel.  Parties.  Bars.  Sex clubs.  Fucking.

            On his end, Gabriel kept swelling up larger with muscle.  And I do mean swelling up.  By now, he was bigger than any bodybuilder I’d ever seen.  He was a thick, burly, gorgeous sight—pecs that jutted out far in front of him, biceps that rose mightily like mountains with the most minor movement, thighs that were thick, powerful, and corded with steel.  All his beefy, manly brawn strutting around the house—Gabriel routinely worked Douglas and me into a lather, and I know how an especially attractive and powerfully muscular boyfriend of my own to fuck whenever we could.

            I thought things were on the uptick, but it only lasted two weeks.

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When one thinks it cannot get any better, you come around with a new chapter (or two)!

On a side note, it is becoming eerie how your story resembles mine. Now you even anticipated some plot developments I was still planning and haven't even written down yet! 

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I love the characters’ personalities and the dynamics between them. 

But it’s still a completely mystery to me where this story ends up!

Keep up the magnificent writing :)

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Now listen very closely, young man: I want these two to be fucking like rabbits before the end, is that clear?! I want my happy ending!!

The world is already too dark not to give us that, TQuintA!

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2 minutes ago, portamivia said:

Now listen very closely, young man: I want these two to be fucking like rabbits before the end, is that clear?! I want my happy ending!!

The world is already too dark not to give us that, TQuintA!

I'm constantly thinking "Kiss him already, you big hairy fool!" while reading 😆

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Chapter 19

            Thus began the new phase in Gabriel’s life.  Between work, Douglas, and the changes in Gabriel’s schedule, my life returned pretty much to normal.  Gabriel’s, though, was entirely different.

            For one, since he was no longer holding down a 9-5 job, he could use that time to work out, meaning Gabriel was often home waiting for me when I got there.  For another, since he was home alone more often, he scheduled his masturbation around my schedule so I didn’t hear his cries of ecstasy anymore.  For yet another, he took on a determination I’d never seen before.

            “This is my one chance, Auggie.  My one chance to get as big as possible and live my dream as a bodybuilder.  Once I’m off these pills, who knows how much of the muscle I’ll be able to maintain?  There’s a local bodybuilding contest in six weeks—it’s major enough to get my pro card.  Then, there’s an Olympia qualifier in Pittsburgh in13.  Then, there’s Olympia a month after that.  I’m cutting the deadlines razor thin, but especially since Johnny is helping me grease the wheels, I’ve got my target in sight.”

            “You want to win Olympia?” I asked, agog.

            “First timers never win,” he said dismissively.  “I want to qualify out of nowhere, show up on stage huge, and scare the hell out of the vets.”  Then, after a pause, he added, “But if I want to do that, I have to train to win.  And I’m going to do it on Johnny’s dime.”

            Johnny came through with the money.  Johnny came through in a big way.  He even insisted on hiring Gabriel a coach to help him train.

            “If he wins Olympia,” Johnny said, “it’ll only help my company once we crack what’s causing Gabriel’s freakish growth.  Hell, if he places we’ll sell millions.”

            The first few days they worked together, I rarely saw Gabriel’s coach, but I did see him a handful of times at the apartment.  He was a gruff former bodybuilder in his 50s.  He’d gotten a little soft around the middle, and he was nowhere big as he was at his peak (I Googled him), but he was still plenty impressive.  His name was Hank, and he did not like me.

            “I don’t understand what you two even do together!” I heard Hank say.  It was maybe the second or third day he was coaching Gabriel.  They were in the living room; I was in my bedroom.  They were unaware I could hear them.

            “Watch movies.  Play poker.  Hang out.  Talk.  Have dinner.  Things like that.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “You don’t understand friendship?”  Gabriel sounded especially confused.

            “I’d understand if you were fuckin’ the kid,” Hank said, a little louder.  “It’d weird me out a little, but I’d get it.  A lot of the guys I coach have a pretty little thing on the side.  A pretty little thing with tits, but I understand that men have needs.  If you were fuckin’ the kid, I’d tell him to bend over and service you whenever you demanded like the twerp he is.  It’d be his way of contributing.  But he’s just a normal kid.”

            “He’s my best friend and roommate,” Gabriel responded, defending me.  “And he’s the same age as me.”

            “I’d maybe understand if he was a fellow bodybuilder.  Motivation, competitive edge, liftin’ buddy.  I’d get that.  But a skinny gay vegetarian, when you ain’t none of those things?  Tell him to hit the bricks.  He’s getting in your way.”

            “I can always hire a different coach,” Gabriel said.

            “Okay,” Hank said, acquiescing.  “The kid stays.”

            When I told Gabriel that I’d overheard the conversation between him and Hank, he patted me on the cheek.  “Don’t worry, buddy.  His bark is much worse than his bite.  Besides, he’s completely changed the way I work out.  Apparently, I’ve been overtraining.  He’s got me working out less time, but reaping more benefits.  I wish I had him months ago.”

            As much as I bristled at Hank, I could see the positive changes he made in Gabriel.  Gabriel went from laser-focused to heat-seeking missile.  I’d gotten used to him waking up to an alarm clock religiously; now he was going to bed when an alarm went off, even if we were in the middle of a movie.  And if I thought he’d been eating an inhuman amount before, I was in for a world of surprise from the sheer amount of food he would put away.  Hunger was no longer his motivation to eat.

            “Hank says I have to hit my macros,” Gabriel explained through a mouthful of peanut butter.

            I nodded as though that sentence bore meaning.

            And the results were undeniable.  In just two short weeks, Gabriel ballooned from an already gargantuan to floor-shaking.  He was a beastly behemoth of a man.  His arms and chest were so thick and swollen, they threatened every shirt he dared put on.  Even though he was now wearing a lot more Lycra and stretch fabrics for the give, he looked fit to burst from everything he wore.  And his legs.  His legs!  They were so thick that they fought each other for space when he was just standing there.  And when he walked, they rolled around each other, forcing him to swagger with every step he took, flexing and quaking with each motion.  And with his legs taking up so much space, his bulge was pushed front and center—and undeniable focal point of enlarged male anatomy beyond what us mere mortals possessed.

            Two weeks after Hank was hired, Gabriel tackled me at the front door, picked me up, and spun me around.  His muscles were as hard as steel, and I could feel his ever-increasing chest hair prickle through his shirt.

            “Call Douglas.  We’re going out.”  He was grinning and over-eager.

            “Where are we going?” I asked, as he held me aloft.

            “I don’t care.  Someplace fun where we can dance.  Your favorite club.”

            “If we go to my favorite club, the guys will swarm around you.”

            “Whatever,” Gabriel said with carefree glee.  “I just need to dance.”

            “My favorite club doesn’t open until 8.  Isn’t that your bedtime?”

            “Hank gave me a one-night pass to stay up ‘til midnight.”  He bounced me up and down in his arms.  “C’mon!  Get excited!”

            “Why are we so excited?”

            “I broke 300!  I am more than 300 pounds of man, Auggie!”

            “I’ll call Douglas,” I said.  Then I tapped his shoulder.  “As soon as you put me down.”

            “Right,” Gabriel said, lowering me.  “You weigh nothing, bud.  You should start eating more.”

            “My weight is just fine,” I said and pulled out my phone.  “You’re just a Herculean super-bodybuilder.”

            “Fair,” Gabriel said, flexing his arm.  The sinews and veins danced as the bulge swelled and contracted.

            Gabriel and I met up with Douglas in the parking structure down the street from the club.  Douglas and I were dressed in our normal date clothes—tight button downs and tighter jeans (Douglas left his top few buttons unbuttoned).  Gabriel was dressed scandalously in black spandex—shirt and pants—that conformed to every bump and swell of his body.  I could see all his abs through the shirt.  The three of us arrived at the front door as soon as it opened, and there was already a line outside. 

            “Just a warning,” I said.  “The only people who get here this early are the regulars, the super desperate, and the over-18-under-21 crowd.  In other words, the three demographics most likely to be drawn to you like magnets.”

            Gabriel inhaled deeply, swelling his chest.  He then sucked in his waist, put his hands on his hips, and flared his lats, striking a pose reminiscent of Superman.

            “They can’t make me do anything I don’t want,” he chuckled, practically guffawing.

            When he saw that display, the bouncer didn’t even make us wait in line.

            Dancing was a blast, especially ricocheting back and forth between my big boyfriend and my even bigger best friend.  I was in muscle heaven.  Every move Gabriel made caused his muscles to twitch and flex; his bulk and bulges bounding and grooving to the music was hypnotic.  Douglas was also going hot and heavy—sticking his tongue down my throat on the dance floor.  It was the first time I’d even done anything so overtly sexual in front of Gabriel, but he didn’t seem to care.  Or even notice.

            When we first started dancing, I did spy a few men gently approach Gabriel, but they flew away as quickly as they landed.  Whatever his trick, it was working, so I wasn’t going to question it.

            After a half hour of dancing, I was hot and parched.  “Let’s get drinks!” I said.

            “It’s on me,” Douglas said, whipping out his credit card.  He said the following more as a question rather than a statement, “Light beer for me, vodka soda for Auggie, and for Gabriel…”

            “I don’t…” Gabriel started, but Douglas interrupted.

            “I was going to offer you a bottle of water, big fella.”

            Gabriel nodded appreciatively.

            Seconds later, Douglas came back and shared a wicked idea.

            “There’s a sign at the bar that says men over 10 inches drink free.”  He pointed at Gabriel’s obscenely packed crotch.  “What say you, Gabriel?  Do you qualify for free drinks yet?”

            Gabriel looked like a deer caught in headlights.

            “That sign is always there.  It’s a joke,” I said reassuringly.  “Just pay for the drinks, Douglas.”

            “Roger,” Douglas said, making an about face.

            “How would they check?” Gabriel asked, loud enough for Douglas to hear.

            Douglas stopped dead in his tracks, then turned around.  “Pardon?”

            “How would they check?” Gabriel repeated.  “They’re not just going to take my word for it.  How would they check?”

            “You’re over 10 inches?”

            “At my last measuring, 301 pounds, 10.1 inches,” Gabriel said.

            For a moment, the two of us just stared in awe.  Then, Douglas spoke up.  “Don’t fucking say those things if I can’t fuck you,” Douglas practically whimpered, staring at Gabriel’s immensity.

            “I ask again,” Gabriel re-directed, “how would they check?  If they expect me to whip it out at the bar or want to post a picture of it somewhere public, we’re paying for drinks.  But if, for instance, they took me into a back room or a bathroom stall, I say we go for it.  Call their bluff.”

            “What?” I asked incredulously.

            “I fucking hate this thing,” Gabriel said.  “It’s always in my way, it’s always hot and sweaty, and it’s unnecessarily heavy.  If it can get us free drinks, it's about time it started pulling its not unsubstantial weight.”

            “You’d really show a stranger your cock?” I asked.

            “I do it all the time at Johnny’s research center,” Gabriel said.  Then, a thought hit him.  “Ooh!  Pull out your phone.  Johnny sends you those pervy videos.  Would they accept that as evidence?”

            “He still sends those?” Douglas asked.

            “I don’t watch them,” I responded to Douglas.  To Mason, I said, “If there’s a time stamp on the video, they might.”

            “They’d want to see it in the flesh,” Douglas said, extra emphasis on the word “flesh.”  “You don’t put up a sign like that if you don’t want to see it in person.”

            “You two stay here,” Gabriel said.

            He walked over to the bar, got the bartender’s attention, and whispered into his ear.  The bartender looked dubious, but beckoned Gabriel into the storage room by curling one finger repeatedly.  About two minutes later, Gabriel came out of the storage room, adjusting the bulge in his pants—he was obviously and thickly erect.  The bartender followed him, a tape measure in his hand and a smile on his face.

            Gabriel came back over to us with our drinks.  “Drinks are on me the rest of the night,” he said, crowing a little bit.  He pointed to his crotch.  “Or rather, on him.”

            “It’s a real policy?” I asked, taking my vodka soda.

            “I’d’ve been back faster, but they made me get erect,” Gabriel said.  “Can most guys get erections on demand?  I’ve never had to coerce one before.”

            “Most guys cannot just get an erection on demand,” Douglas commented, “but they can give themselves a running start by picturing something sexy.”

            “Right.  Right,” Gabriel said.  “That makes sense.”   He downed half his bottle of water in one swig and then adjusted himself again.  “I hope this thing goes down on its own.”

            After another hour of dancing—Douglas and I both nicely buzzed from Gabriel’s largesse—Douglas came back from the bathroom, stood behind me, put both of his hands on my shoulders, and spoke directly into my ear.

            “There is this muscular hunk who saw us dancing.  He wants me and him to spit roast you.  Sounds hot.  What do you think?”

            I turned to face Douglas and said, “I think we’re here to celebrate Gabriel who’s been getting us free drinks all night.  I’m not abandoning my friend for a threesome.”

            “Just look at the guy before you say no,” Douglas said, pointing out the man who’d made the proposition.  He was dark-haired, muscular, and had disproportionately large pecs.  As soon as I saw him, the suggestion made perfect sense.

            “His name is Michael,” I said.  “And he probably wanted a threesome with you and Gabriel.”

            “What do you say?” Douglas asked, undaunted.

            “I’ve already had him.  He’s a disappointing top, so if you fuck him, make him bottom.”

            “Thanks for the heads up,” Douglas said, kissing me on the neck and heading back to the men’s room.

            “Where’s he going?” Gabriel asked me, a note of concern in his voice.

            “To fuck Michael in the bathroom,” I answered plainly.

            “Right now?  Right here?” Gabriel asked, wringing his hands unconsciously.

            I looked over my shoulder and saw Douglas and Michael go into the bathroom together.

            “Right now,” I confirmed.  “He’ll be back in about 15 minutes.  20 max.”

            “That won’t be so bad,” Gabriel said.

            I was confused by Gabriel’s worry, but decided it was concern on my behalf and dismissed it.

            True to my word, 20 minutes later, Douglas was back dancing with Gabriel and me.

            “What took you so long?” I asked.

            “I had to wash my hands,” he answered.

            “No further questions,” I responded with a giggle.

            At 11:30, I tapped on Gabriel’s shoulder.  “If we don’t go now, you won’t get home in time for bed.”

            “Already?” Gabriel asked, genuinely disappointed.

            “March, mister!” I pointed to the exit.

            “Where’s he going?” Douglas asked.

            “Cinderella’s coach is about to turn back into a pumpkin,” I said.  “Come on, let’s go.  If Michael didn’t completely empty your tank, we can fuck around a little when we get back.”

            “If we’re not going to keep dancing, I think I’ll head home,” Douglas said.  “I’ll walk back to your car with you, though.”  We walked in pleasant silence until we got to my car, and the Douglas suggested, “We can go trawling for fun after I get out of work tomorrow.”

            I stood on my tiptoes and pulled his head down so I could kiss him on the cheek.

            “Don’t drive drunk, and keep your hands clean,” I said and joined Gabriel in his car.

            When I got in the front seat, Gabriel looked at me confused.  “No Douglas?”

            “He’s homeward bound,” I said.  I closed the door.  “Did you have fun?”

            “So much,” Gabriel said.

            “Anybody hit on you?”

            “Dozens,” Gabriel said.  “Especially the bartender.”

            “How’d you keep them off you?”

            Gabriel showed me his left hand.  “Didn’t you notice?  I’ve been wearing it since we got here.”  At some point, he’d put on a wedding band. 

            “When did you even get that?”

            “A few weeks ago,” he said, taking the ring off and putting it in his pocket.  “When I had to start using a gym outside our building, a lot of strangers began hitting on me, and a lot of them blatantly offering sex.  Bridget suggested I get a fake wedding ring.  She has one too.”

            “And that works?”
            “Almost always.  It also gives me cover for when I get one of those random erections at the gym.  I figured a similar solution would work at a gay club.”

            I couldn’t help but smile.  “You chased away guys at the club by telling them I’m your husband.  I’m kind of flattered,” I admitted.

            Gabriel shook his head.  “I told them Douglas was my husband.”

            “Not me?”  I was a little hurt.

            “I love you, Auggie,” he said, tousling my hair, “but I’ve seen tea cozies more intimidating than you.”

            I thought about that.  “No, no, I see where my error was.  Douglas makes more sense.”  I nodded.  “Is that why you got nervous when Douglas went off to fuck Michael?”

            “Indeed, it is.”

            “Wait,” I said as an idea came to me.  “Is this why Hank hates me?  ‘Cause he thinks I’m screwing your husband?”

            “Why would he think that?” Gabriel asked, laughing.  “He thinks I’m married to Bridget.”

            “What?”
            “Like I said, it was Bridget’s idea.  She was sick of people at the gym hitting on her too, so we pretend to be married there.  It’s mostly women who hit on me at the gym.  Since Hank’s kind of always at the gym with me, he also thinks Bridget is my wife.  I never specifically told him that lie, but everyone at the gym thinks Bridget and I are married.  I only pretended Douglas was my husband tonight because a married straight man at a gay bar—that wouldn’t exactly drive anyone away.  A married man dancing with his husband… that would.”

            I puzzled it out in my head.  “Let me see if I understand this.  From Hank’s point of view, you and Bridget are married, and I’m dating Bridget’s brother, but it’s you and me who live together while both Douglas and Bridget each live alone in their own apartments.”

            Gabriel mentally checked my math.  “Yes.”

            “Then, he really doesn’t hate me.  He’s genuinely confused by our living arrangements.”

            “I guess,” Gabriel said. 

            “I feel a little better,” I said, exhaling.  “Home?”

            “Home,” Gabriel said, pointing through the windshield.

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