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


TQuintA

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Author’s note:

 

This story feels like a bit of a risk for me.  It is a muscle growth story, but it’s unlike any I’ve written for this site.  I know that most of the stories I publish on this site have an emphasis on character, theme, and plot, but this story has even more of a focus on those elements.  Also, it’s more of a slow burn than any of my other stories, and my stories already are quite slow burns (by design).  In fact, these aspects of the story were so unignorable to me that I was very close to removing the muscle growth aspects of the story and working it into a novel that I would try to publish elsewhere.  Ultimately, though, I decided the muscle growth aspects of this story were inextricable and un-excisable, so I let the work stand as it is.  At the same time, it felt unfair not to give the reader a head’s up.  I will continue to update Weird, but Sweet and this for as long as there’s an audience for both.

 

TL;DR: if you’re looking for a quick wank, try another story.  If you’re looking for a story with some erotic elements, read on.

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Chapter 1

            There was only one thing wrong with Gabriel.  Otherwise, he was perfect. 

            He was gorgeous, obviously.  A hair over six feet tall (easily seven or eight inches taller than me), athletic, movie star good looks, intensely brown eyes that sparkled, thick and wavy black hair, prominent cheek bones, a lantern jaw, always freshly shaved, broad shoulders, tight waist, round, pert ass…  He was gorgeous.  When we first met, he was already a buff 185, and it was among his goals to get bigger.

            And his personality?  Everything I could ask for.  He was outgoing and friendly, had an infectious laugh, compassionate and caring, confident without being arrogant, willing to take sound advice, adventurous, and ambitious.  He was equally happy watching a mindless kung fu movie in our pjs or getting dressed up to the nines and going out dancing.

            We met as freshmen in college.  We were both 18, soon to turn 19—we shared the same dorm room as freshmen together at a college just outside Pittsburgh in 2002.  I don’t know what functionary or algorithm assigned us as roommates, but I worship at their feet.  He came into our room, smiled beautifully, pointed at me, and asked, “August?”

            “Auggie,” I corrected.  “Gabe?”  I asked, offering my hand.

            “Gabriel,” he corrected.  At the time, I figured he had to have that name because he looked like an angel.

            We shook hands, and I was trying to think of what to say next, when he saw my Bruce Lee poster.  “No way,” he said, running over to look at it.  “I brought this same poster.  He’s my favorite actor.  What are the odds?”

            The rest was history.  We were fast friends and hung out all the time.  Sometimes, he kind of felt like an older brother.  Which was odd when I think about it.  I actually have two older brothers, and hanging out with neither of them was this fun.  I was close with my eldest brother Johnny.  He looks an awful lot like me: short, fair-haired, and scrawny.  That’s where the similarities end; he’s also a science-obsessed romantic and a full nine years older than me.  Our friendship is conducted almost entirely over the phone, but we’re friends.  Norm (the middle brother) took more after our dad than our mom; he’s a bossy wannabe guitarist whose day job is public accountant.  I don’t spend much time with Norm.  Gabriel was nothing like either of them, but he still had the big brother vibe somehow. 

            The feeling I got from Gabriel was different in other ways, too.  For one, I’m not attracted to either of my older brothers, and Gabriel is the most frequent visitor to my wet dreams.  For another, Gabriel and I are the same age, our birthdays only a few days apart.  

            Maybe Gabriel felt this way because I just have so much family.  My family was huge—parents still married, two brothers, all four grandparents still living, a dozen aunts and uncles, scores of cousins.  I needed a flowchart at family reunions.  Gabriel was an only child raised by a single mother.  His only aunt lives the childless life of a bon vivant in France, and his grandparents died when he was five.

            Whatever the reason, he gave off this feeling of comfort and familiarity that made me feel safe and secure. 

            Maybe it was because of how different we were. 

            Gabriel was the straight-laced sort.  He got up at 6 every morning, he worked out religiously, he always did his homework, he’d never had a drink, he always finished his vegetables, he kept his side of the room neat and tidy, and he followed all the rules.  As far as I could tell, his worst habit was that, when he was alone or it was just the two of us in the dorm room, he walked around in his underwear, as if he was allergic to shirts and pants.  Granted, I did not mind because his chest (also always shaved), but I did find it odd how quickly he stripped to his boxers the second we were alone.  Still, not wearing clothes isn’t exactly a vice, especially since he always kept his privates covered.  If it weren’t for the fact that he routinely swore, I’d swear he was a goody two-shoes.  His squareness was one of his best traits because he was honest and fair, which made for a great roommate and a great friend. 

            I, on the other hand, am not afraid to color outside the lines.  I am this short, pale, fair-haired vegetarian, so people never see it coming, but I can be a hellcat when the situation calls for it and have a mean, jealous streak I’m fully aware of but none too fond of.  I never did anything dangerous or foolhardy, but I wasn’t above “questionable study habits,” I had a well-worn fake ID, and I lived life a little loudly—at least, in comparison to Gabriel.

            With that instant rapport we had, Gabriel and I rubbed off on each other in the best ways.  He got me into working out—just enough to keep my twink bod tight, not serious lifting like him.  I got him into vegetarian cuisine—just enough to boost his fitness goals, not a full-on veggie like me.  He got me into motorcycles, I got him into poker.  He helped me pass calculus, I helped him pass World Lit.  We were perfectly matched.  We did practically everything together and stayed roommates all four years.  No one was surprised when we moved in together after we graduated.  We were both originally from the area, we’d both gotten jobs in the city, and so we figured, why not?

            He was my dream man.

            Oh, right, the one thing wrong with him. 

            He is completely, entirely, sexually uninterested in me.

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Wow, a second new story from you. You’re spoiling us aren’t you lol.

 I’m particularly intrigued by this one. I’m really interested in how it’s going to develop. I’m glad you decided to keep the muscle growth in and I’m looking forward to it but I’m happy to wait. I love your style and you’re definitely one of my favourite writers.

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That was awesome and I'm hooked on both new stories.  This one already seems special and I can't wait for more!  💯  I really love a great slow🔥!!!

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