The King of Juice (Episode 2 – Genesis)

I was always one of those “tall and awkward” kids as a child. This situation became worse as I hit puberty as I shot up in linear height but did not pack on much in the way of bodyweight. By the time I graduated from high school in 1992, I was a 6’3″, 150 pound virgin who was totally obsessed with women and getting laid. The quest for pussy, or getting some rather, consumed my entire life. Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty of female “friends”. I think among the women of my town I was invariably listed as a “nice guy”, the guy who you can tease and lead on and have this “platonic relationship with”, you’d never have to “give it up” for me if you were female. I was pathetic, I was miserable yet I was determined. So after watching a rented copy of Pumping Iron with Ferrigno and Schwarzenegger, I decided to join a gym. I made a huge assumption that not only did women find the “bodybuilder look” to be attractive but that I could actually expect to attain such a physique with 12-18 months training.

I had been in the gym for maybe 6 months and although I made some progress, I was still totally dissatisfied with my progress. I want more, faster, right now. Lee Haney was a big name at the time and he was pitching the line of Weider products. Lee said in the ads that Weider products made him look the way he did. I wanted to look like Lee Haney. Heck, I’d have been happy to look 1/2 as good as Lee Haney. I can’t tell you how much money I wasted on Joe Weider Anabolic Mega Packs and Weight Gainer 1800. I mean, I tried it all. Hot Stuff, Cybergenics, Yohimbe, name it, I bought it. But nothing and I do mean nothing, worked. I spent over $1,000 on supplements in a 6 months period only to gain a meager 5 pounds. So obviously, these “I never use drugs” bodybuilders that lined the magazines were lying about something.

I was going to call it quits and just deal with being a thin, lithe guy, probably losing my virginity to some fat, $20 hooker when I noticed something. There was a guy who started at the gym about the same time I did who made spectacular progress. While I added a meager 5 pounds to my frame in 6 months, this guy added at least 30 pounds. Did he have a secret? Was it his diet? What? So I did some investigating and it turned out that this guy had been using some serious juice. He was using something called Depot Testosterone and Deca Durabolin. He said he would be more than happy to “hook me up” if I wanted either of these steroids or other steroids. I now had a moral choice to make.

I was afraid. I think we all are the first time we really start to think about using. The reasons I was afraid were that I bought into all the scare tactics regarding steroids: I would get liver cancer, that all my hair would fall out, that my dick would shrivel up into a pathetic little stump. What good would it do me to be a huge, muscle ripping guy if I had no dick? To cite a classical analogy, I was truly stuck between Scylla and Charibdis. Be big and dickless or be small with a big hard pecker that I never got to stick in anyone. I sat on making a decision until I saw something that really made me say “go for it”. The dude who I had watch put around 30 pounds of mass on over the previous six month was walking out of my gym, arm-in-arm, with a really hot looking fitness chick. This was a pivotal moment. This is when I said to myself, “I don’t care about any risks, real or made up, I want a chick like that that guy has…if I have no dick because of steroids then I have no dick”.

So the next time I saw this guy in the gym, I asked him to hook me up. He took my telephone number down and told me that “someone would be in touch” over the next couple of days. And did I wait by the phone. Every time the phone rang I was hopeful it would be some news about getting some roids. After three days and about a dozen disappointing phone calls from my mother and some friends, the phone rang:

This is The Growler, you the guy needing gear?

Ummm… Yeah, I met this guy and he said you could hook me up with something.

What do you want?

Well, I don’t know, I thought maybe you could help me out and tell me what I need?

What are you trying to do? I mean, how big you looking to get?

That was a question I was totally unprepared for. Heck, how big did I want to get? I never really thought about that and I think that most of us, when we get involved with steroids, never really take this into consideration? Truth be known, I had no clue, I mean, I was totally unable to articulate what I wanted, what my goals where but I knew that I wanted to get bigger, a lot bigger.

I’m not sure what I want to do, I want to get a lot bigger though.

(laughter in the phone)Sure, sure, well, I got some Depot Test, the same stuff your buddy used, I can get you two bottles of it for $200 plus you’ll need some Nolva’s.

What’s a “nolva”?

What happened next was this dealer, my dealer, The Growler (so named because this is the sound he makes when he is squatting or deadlifting a lot of weight) gave me the 15 minute run down on which steroids do what, what “bitch tits” was and how I could expect to lose some of my gains after the cycle. Needless to say, he sounded like a genius to me. Where on earth did he get also this expert knowledge (of course I would find out later that this knowledge was merely guesswork and nothing more)? I was amazed. He gave me directions to his apartment, which was truly a stupid move because he had no idea if I was a cop or not, and told me to drop by in an hour or so.

The Growler lived in a two bedroom apartment on the 10thfloor of a high rise in the center of New Orleans. When I arrived at the building and approached the door, I could hear music and a few female voices inside. I was trembling a little bit, I stood at the door for at least 5 minutes before I got up enough nerve to knock. When I finally did, a short but totally jacked dude answered the door. I looked at this guy, standing there in a pair of those “clown pants” and a string tank top and remembered thinking, “Holy shit, this guy is buff, I want to look like this guy”. He introduced himself and asked me to come in. This is when I saw the two, major hottie chicks just were sitting on the leather sectional in the living room. One of the chicks was obviously high on something as she was just sitting there in a pair of referee shorts with no top on at all, nothing, her big bare titties were just hanging out. She had the most delicious titties with perfect pink nipples. She had this swaying motion going on with her head and the other hottie chick, who was wearing a jog bra and a thong, was sitting next to the first hottie chick and was kissing her neck. I remember getting a serious woodie. Cripey, wow, two lesbo’s or bi-chicks? I wanted to fuck them both, of course I’d settle for one, either one, but I really wanted both of them. The Growler came back about five minutes later holding a brown paper bag. He slapped me on the shoulder and muttered, “I threw in about 2 dozen pins for you, free of charge”. But I really didn’t hear him. He noticed me staring at the hotties and then boasted, “play you cards right and work out hard so someday you’ll get to the chance to fuck two women at the same time”. I gave The Growler $300 – 15 Alexander “Fucking” Hamiltons, for two bottles of Depot Testosterone and 60 Nolvadex tablets. I no longer wanted to look like The Growler, I wanted to be The Growler. I wanted to be buff, have a cool apartment where I could fuck two fitness chicks at the same time. I could not wait to get back to my car so I could look in this brown bag, this bag, my bag of muscle building treasure.

I think I sat in my car for an hour, just holding the little bottles of Depot Testosterone in my hands. I felt bigger, stronger, more powerful already. These would be my key, the passage from small to large. These bottles held the secret, the power, the path for me to follow so I could get laid by hot chicks, just like The Growler. I drove home with an ear-to-ear grin. I could scarcely wait to inject the stuff into my ass.

An hour went by and I was sitting in my bathroom with a syringe that has 2.5ml of Depot Testosterone in it. It looks like a huge amount of liquid to inject and I broke out into a cold sweat. In the car, it seemed like it would be a snap, it would be nothing to do. But holding that plastic syringe loaded up with an oily androgen is a reality check for sure. Should I do it or not? After 90 minutes I wiped an alcohol prep pad against my ass cheek. I pressed the needle tip against my ass and pushed a little. Nothing really happened. It stung a little but the needle didn’t even break the skin. I tried it again. Nothing. Finally I pushed hard and fast and the needle went straight through. I stood there, looking at a dart sticking out of my ass and I became nauseated. I was pale and sweating I thought for sure I would pass out. I just depressed the plunger as fast as I could, never bothering to aspirate the syringe to see if I pierced a blood vessel. I finished the injection, wiped the drop of blood from my ass and fell down against the toilet bowl. Was this, the quest for size and hot, sweet pussy worth all this? Did I dare try this again next week?

I used 500mg of Depo Testosterone per week for 8 weeks with a 10mg Nolvadex tablet every day. This was my first cycle. In 8 weeks my bench press was up 80 pounds and I went from a bodyweight 150 pounds to 188 pounds. My dick didn’t shrivel up and I didn’t get liver cancer and I didn’t lose my hair. I was still fairly thin but I didn’t look like a concentration camp victim like I did before this cycle. I figured that I would do one more cycle, get up to 210 pounds and then quit, never using the stuff ever again. But there never is “just one more cycle”. It’s “what is the next cycle”. I lost 15 pounds of the 38 pounds I put on during my first cycle. The Growler, ever happy to sell a client more juice, put me on a stack he pulled out of the Underground Steroid Handbook Part II. I was using 750mg of testosterone enanthate per week with two-three A-Bombs (Anadrol® 50’s) per day along with 600mg of nandrolone decanoate per week. Then we added in the growth hormone. It didn’t take long for this to get too expensive for me. So The Growler, ever happy to take on more clients put me on a plan. I would deal for him and he would sell me gear at a reduced rate. Basically, it worked out so something like, for every 7 bottles of something I moved, I got a bottle for free. This was my first experience in dealing. Soon, I was selling more gear than I needed to cover my cycles. My business tripled in less than 6 weeks. I was discrete, much more so than The Growler but I of course offered The Growler quality gear. So The Growler started to front me extra gear to sell with the provision that we would split the profits 60/40. Soon I was moving 20-30 bottle of testosterone per week, thousands of d-bols, hundreds of IU’s of growth hormone. My end of the deal, clear that is, was typically around $600 per week plus I was now getting all my gear for nothing. $600 is not a lot of money for most but to a 19 year old this seems like a fortune. I looked at it this way: I could deal out of a locker at the gym. This allowed me to train at the gym all day, eat and do nothing else. I had it made. I had enough money, more than enough money, to live comfortably on. I was little more than a glorified order taker for an entire year. This first year I went from 150 pounds to 212 pounds. I was very lean, had 6-pack abs, money in my pocket and women started to notice me. I got laid for the first time. I went out and put a down payment on a new, black Mustang GT convertible. This was a golden period in my life; a period I wish I had savored more, a period I wish now I could go back to and live in forever.

Next Installment: Episode III: Moving On Up

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