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|Mike was a big boy, no two ways about it. We were roommates and training
partners in college my sophomore year. His arms were 17" cold, dwarfing my
14" 'pipes'. It was so great to be able to train with this guy, even though
I wasn't nearly as strong. (At least I was leaner than he was.) Over the
weeks and months we both got bigger and stronger (although his gains came
faster than mine, 'cause he was such a genetically gifted bastard), and we
developed a mutual respect and trust. When you're shrugging a 200-lb.
weight over another guy's throat during his set of bench presses, mutual
trust is a requirement. Mike was a linebacker on the school football team,
and had a reputation as one of the strongest and fastest guys on campus.
Unlike some other jocks, he was also a genuinely nice guy, I found. He had
a friendly smile which he often flashed. Combine these traits with his
light brown hair with blond highlights, strong jawline, and his baby blue
"bedroom" eyes, and you know why girls found him irresistible. (I was one
lucky boy, as I said.)
Mike was pretty pumped up, a red-blooded American guy, and he must have been natural, I thought; he never 'flipped out' like the guys obviously on the juice did, and his skin was so smooth, with only a light fuzz as far as body hair went, that he looked like a 15-year old. An overgrown, impressively studly-looking 15-year old.
So you can imagine my shock when one morning I walked into our bathroom and there was Mike with a syringe, injecting an oily liquid into his left glute.
"Mike, what the fuck is this?!", I yelled at him. "Are you shooting STEROIDS?!?"
"Dude, CHILL OUT and close the fucking door!", Mike said. "And don't tell me you didn't have a clue I was on the juice, how do you think I got so huge by the age of 20, good genetics?"
"Well, actually, yes," I said, having calmed down a bit by this time. "I should be so lucky", Mike said.
"What exactly are you shooting up, anyway?", I asked. "Some of that stuff can be pretty dangerous, right?"
Mike lowered his voice to an almost conspiratorial tone, even though he always spoke in a deep, resonant baritone. "Dude, if I tell you, you have got to *promise* not to tell anyone, I mean it. The guy who sells me my gear made me swear to secrecy. You have got to swear on your high school diploma (Mike knew how seriously I would take this oath) not to tell *anyone*. You swear?"
"Uh, sure Mike, I swear on my high school diploma not to tell anyone." (What the hell is going on here? I thought.)
Mike gave the bathroom a quick once-over and looked out the small window, then opened the bathroom door quickly to make sure no one was eavesdrop- ping. Closing the door again, he continued quietly, "OK, this shit is supposed to be a supersteroid developed by the East Germans before reunifi- cation put a stop to their performance enhancement research. It's supposed to be 1000 times more powerful than Dianabol. When my source guy told me about this stuff, and said he had been lucky enough to have scored some amps that he was selling to his best customers, I'll tell ya, my dick got so hard it nearly ripped through my pants."
"And you actually believed this?" Mike was not your stereotypical dumb jock though; it was unlikely he'd let himself be suckered.
"Hey, I trust the guy, he's been dealing me juice since I was 15," Mike said, "and if he says he has shit like this, I believe him."
"So you're injecting this stuff that's 1000 times more powerful than D- bol," I said. "Are you sure it's safe?"
"Look," said Mike, "I'm take the proper precautions, milk thistle extract, antiestrogens, yada, yada, yada, so get off my case! And I've been stuck at the same weight for the past two months, and our team is counting on me, and you know I've always wanted to look like the pro bodybuilders." Mike's eyes glazed over, and he said in a near-whisper, "Those guys are *awesome*."
"OK, big guy," I relented, "but if this stuff really is so powerful, you're gonna be even *bigger* than the pros."
"That would be MEGA-awesome!", Mike said, flexing a 'most muscular' pose with a huge grin on his face. He stopped for a moment, looked at me sidelong with a sly smile on his face, eyebrows raised, and said, "Want some?"
God, Mike, if you only knew how I've secretly lusted for your beefy young body, you would have phrased that question a little differently.
"Uh, thanks a lot dude, but no thanks, I don't think I wanna be *that* big, what would I do for clothes?"
"That's cool, I guess you just want to look like a natural bodybuilder, so all the chicks will be lusting after your sexy muscular hardbody!", Mike said, licking his lips after this last phrase and winking at me. For a second I didn't say anything, then realized Mike was eyeing me intently. I thought up an answer: "Naturally."
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