Awoken to a boon from Cupid

Your name is Hugh Caspar, and you have a huge problem. Awoken in the middle of the night, you find a half-naked, tattooed man twice your weight in pure muscle sitting cross-legged on the foot of your bed, wearing little more than a jaunty grin.

While the intruder's heart-spattered boxers, heart-shaped headphones, and gloves with hearts cut out of the backs alarm you, what pops your eyes out of your skull is that the in the dark of your room, you shouldn't be able to see anything. The man glows with glorious, radiant light - skin, teeth, eyes, even the air around him.

Yet, despite the stranger being the picture of rugged masculinity, a pair of delicate, feathery wings sprout directly out of his back. He's an angel?

"Holy shit, am I dead?" you blurt out.

The angelic intruder chuckles. The booming sound rattles the walls and the windows, and for a second you fear the building will collapse.

"Not today, little man," he booms, flipping up his heart-shaped sunglasses to scrutinize you with small, intelligent. eyes. You notice for the first time that the stranger rests a golden bow across his lap, and wears a quiver of metallic pink arrows in a comically small (on him anyway) quiver over one shoulder. "Today's your day, Hugh! Dad heard your buddies' prayers, and let me say, you've seriously impressed the big man, so he's gonna sneak one in for ya real quick."

The big man? "God?" you ask.

The man laughs. "One of them, sure. Can you guess which?"

You take another look at the guy on the foot of your bed. All the hearts are a dead giveaway. "You're Cupid."

"Bingo."

"And your dad..." you recall what you know of Greek mythology "... Ares?"

"Bongo. He goes by Mars these days, but you know your stuff."

You gape. "How the hell did I impress the god of war?"

"You and your friends, little man!" Cupid laughs, pushing a finger into your shoulder. "The games, the glory, he hasn't seen fights like that in years!"

You sluggishly put two and two together. "You're shitting me. You can't be talking about Warzone?"

He knowingly taps the side of his nose with a sly grin. "Humble too! Warzone, PubG, Apex, Fortnight - Dad's real impressed with your victories. So, after hearing your prayers, he had a little chat with Mom, and she slipped a little bit of a boon into my bag before I skipped out to work today."

Prayers? What prayers?

Cupid digs into a small messenger bag tied to the side of his quiver and pulls out a ball of warm red light. This he offers to you.

Utterly bewildered, you accept the translucent red ball. At a touch, however, the light drains into your fingers and vanishes. For a moment your skin lights up with an otherworldly glow, and it feels like a flashlight is shining through your whole body. Slowly, the sensation, and light, fade.

You pat yourself all over. Both your arms and legs seem to be in the same place as before. "W-what the hell?"

"If there were any matches for you around here, believe me, I'd dig them up. But I looked for a solid five, ten minutes, and you hombres have some real rotten luck!" Cupid exclaims. "Sometimes, the Fates screw you over. Not anymore, little man! With that boon you took up, you and your buddies are gonna be swamped with hot singles in your area in no time."

Your grip your chest in shock. "What did you do to me?"

"What did Venus do, but I'll take that as a compliment," says Cupid. Abruptly, he puffs his chest up with the bearing of heroes and kings. You're filled with awe. "Hugh Caspar!" The earth and bedsprings beneath you tremble. "I dub you Keeper of Pygmalion's Touch, from now, till the true heart's yearning of you and each of your band is fulfilled!"

A thunderclap from outside shakes the windows.

"Wait. Pygmalion like the guy who fell in love with a statue he made, and brought it to life?"

Cupid slaps his knee. "That's what the story is these days? Ha! Sure, let's go with that. Until the job's done, life and beauty will be granted anything you touch."

You immediately picture your dad being turned into a hot chick. "Oh no."

"Anything, that is, which isn't already a person, along with some other stuff," clarifies the god, seeing your distress. "This isn't the Curse of Midas. It's a boon! No bad things."

Your mind works over time. "Why me? I didn't even say the prayer you're answering!"

Cupid winks. "And are you not the captain of your crew?"

"I call the shots in game, but -"

He holds up a hand. "But nothing, little man. Your buddies trust you. You watch over them in battle. And I've felt you worry over their perpetual bachelorhoods whilst totally neglecting your own. So riddle me this, Mr. Humble - who cares more for them than you? Believe me. You're the one." He shakes your shoulder, rattling your whole body. "Good luck, Hugh!"

Cupid vanishes, plunging you into darkness. The room shakes with a final, booming thunderclap.

You catch your breath in complete darkness. Your heart pounds. Sweat rolls down the back of your neck. Every detail, every word, is seared into your mind as if by a hot brand.

What just happened had to be real. Cupid came to you. Talked to you. Charged you with a mission.

Sweet Jesus. Or, er, Holy Hercules? What the hell do you do now?