Excerpt: Addiction Salvation - why steroids

Excerpt from Addiction Salvation

Chapter 6

I fought it for as long as I could, but after placing out of the top five, in a contest I would easily have won the year before, that which was holding be back, lost its grip. I called on one of the original gang. He had an underground reputation as being a brilliant steroid chemist. With no hesitation, he put me on a protocol. The first month was paid for with sex, but he made it very clear, that subsequently, cash would be the only accepted currency.

The drug expense wasn’t cheap, and even though I didn’t have health insurance, it wouldn’t have helped with these specific medications. To cover my drug costs, I added another two nights a week. The visible changes were not observable over night, but within about two weeks, my strength increased. I woke each morning with the strangest buzzing in my head, and wow, I had a bunch more energy.

My first cycle was to last eight weeks, but it wasn’t until the end that the changes were starting to show, so I opted to go for twelve. At the end of that first cycle, my shirt size jumped and my shorts hugged my thighs to the point of cutting off circulation.

In that short span of time, I was sure I was ready to go head to head with all but the best professionals. As instructed, I took one month off, and the hard-fought gains, while not completely gone, were notably diminished. I started my next cycle with a clear goal of competing when I was two weeks into cycling off.
I hit the gym two, sometimes three, times a day. I was having more time because there were some other physical changes with which the customers of my night job weren’t too pleased. A hoarse, raspy tone replaced my soft voice. Acne dotted my once smooth skin. Also, down below, my clit was blossoming a bit bigger. I told myself, these side effects, were only temporary. Besides, these few, supposed negatives, were nothing compared to the physical gains. At the end of the cycle, my muscles were larger than ever. Two weeks off the juice, combined with extreme dieting, left my muscles flat but oh so defined. The flatness was remedied with thirty-six hours of carbing up. I walked on the stage, and there was very little doubt as to who was going to be the winner.

To my surprise --- it was not my hands cradling the first-place trophy. I took second. While not a complete victory, it was enough to earn my pro card.

My friend had talked to one of the judges. It was then I discovered that I had neglected an important part of my anatomy --- I didn’t have breast implants.

The fucking feminine guideline!

Our chemically enhanced physiques had allowed us to gain so much more muscle mass, that without fake tits, and what remained of, for some of us, our normal curves --- the only thing that distinguished many of the women from the lower weight class men, was a bikini top and a camel toe instead of a bulge in our bottoms.