Wrong Steroids - Part 2

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It's funny, but now when I go out with other kids; it'll probably just be the bodybuilding guys that I'll hang around with. As I began to bulk up, the girls' comments were getting to be so dumb, like I'd flex my biceps and one of the girls would be like: "Oh. That looks so big. Can I touch it, please?" So I'd tell her that she could touch it and she'd stretch out her hand and touch it and say something like: "Oh. It feels really hard. You must be really strong." And she'd giggle a little. Give me a break.

The ABA, the Amateur Bodybuilding Association - the group that sponsors the contests that I compete in recently relaxed some of the rules for the competitions. Previously there had been fairly tight requirements for the posing outfits but now almost anything is allowed - well, I'm guessing that complete nudity is out. Anyway, Dad replaced my posing briefs with posing G-strings. Man, the first time he showed me one of the G-strings, I was, like, "You're crazy! I can wear that in public.

It's like being naked!" The G-string was just this little piece of fabric that covered me up in front, soft of, and a string that went around my waist and another string that went between my legs and up to join the string around my waist. From the back it was, like, I was totally exposed! But Dad insisted that I wear it to improve my competition scores so I reluctantly went along with him. The first time I put it on (at home, of course) it felt so weird to have my rear end exposed, and, like, I could feel this breeze on my rear end, but after wearing it around the house for a couple of days I got used to it. The first competition I wore it to I was really nervous and kind of embarrassed about walking out on the stage wearing only a G-string, but a couple of the other guys were wearing things almost as revealing. And then after that, I got to like wearing it and showing off as much of my body as possible.

I walked past Romey in the hall at school today and he looked like, well, like a little different. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out what was different about him and then I realized that it looked like he was wearing some eye shadow and lip gloss.

So, mostly it will be us guys hanging around the mall - which is OK with me. And we can be talking about serious stuff like supplements, and which training routines are better than others, and our body measurements, and how much weight we've gained - stuff like that. Since we're getting our bodies to look better and better these days we figured why not show them off. There's a store called "Rhino Wear" in the mall that sells clothing aimed at bodybuilders and we'll usually get our stuff there. The usual "uniform of the day" is a pair of Lycra mini shorts, a pair of sandals, and either a muscle tank or a tight T-shirt.

I'll usually stuff a pair of socks or a washcloth or something down into my mini shorts to fill them out and make it look like I've got a good-sized "package" down there. The only thing that annoys me is that some of the guys aren't content with letting their muscles show how powerful they are - they have to show off in other ways. There are a couple of the guys that think that it's cool not to bathe too often and to never use deodorant. Well, they're certainly "strong," but not in a way that I like.

I guess smoking pot kind of sneaks up on you. I had just been doing it on the weekends with my friends but after a while, I'd smoke an occasional joint at home. Lately, I've been having a joint or two almost every day.

I'll finish my workout session in the afternoon, and then shower and clean up, and then have a joint and relax before supper. And then I may knock off another one before I go to bed. I mean, the stuff is so cheap, and it makes you feel so relaxed and great, what's the problem?

I've started wearing my posing G-strings all the time in place of the briefs that I had been wearing. It kind of feels, well, "sexy" to be wearing the tiny G-string and feeling my exposed rear end rubbing against my jeans.

One thing that I've noticed recently is that my nipples have gotten, like, well, sort of larger and puffy. They used to be just sort of flat and a tan color. But over the past couple of months, they've changed to the point where they're now almost two inches across, and they puff out over an inch, and they're a light shade of pink. Obviously not the kind of thing that wins you points in a competition. But to solve the problem, my Dad got this kind of ointment called "PreparationH" that I can apply to my nipples several times before a competition and they'll shrink down to normal size. Several hours after the competition they will have swelled back to their larger size but by then the competition will be over with, I'll be wearing a loose sweatshirt, and nobody will notice.

Well, I was a little embarrassed by them at the mall yesterday. It was pretty warm out so I was just wearing a pair of sandals, a pair of cutoff shorts, and a tight black mesh tank top. I knew the tank top was pretty tight when I pulled it on but didn't think anything about it at

the time. But as I was walking through the mall I noticed folks staring at me occasionally. I looked down and saw that my nipples were protruding through the mesh top. So there I was with this black mesh top, but with two large pink nipples poking through it. Won't wear that top again!

The bench press routines that I've been doing have really helped me to develop my pectoral muscles. But as I was examining myself in the mirror this morning I noticed something funny. Well, not funny as in "Ha Ha" but funny as in "curious." When I had first started to build up my pectorals they just, like, got bigger and stuck out more from my chest.

And my nipples were toward the bottom but were pointing outward from my chest. But as my pecs have continued to develop, they've rounded out more and have started to roll over a little on my chest. That is, you can see a definite crease under each pec where it rolls down on my chest by a half-inch or so. And my nipples are now on the bottom of them, pointing down at the floor. My nipples are still big and puffy and pink in color, but since they're way down on the bottom of my pecs instead of pointing out the front, they're not as noticeable as they were before and I find that I don't have to worry about hiding them as much. The other thing about my nipples is that they're really sensitive these days so when I masturbate, I just play with my nipples now, ignoring my dick and rolling my nipples between my fingers and tweaking and tugging on them. Man, does that feel great!

My seventeenth birthday party - what a milestone - and what a wipeout. My buddies threw a real party for me on Saturday night. Frankly, after about eleven o'clock at night, I was pretty much out of it, what with the booze and pot they were shoving at me. The next thing I remember was lying in my bed, sometime on Sunday, and feeling the room spin around me. I think that sometime in the night I had barfed as there was this shitty-looking mess on my pillow and the smell of it got my stomach heaving again and I just barely made it to the bathroom this time. So I spent the rest of the day just lying in bed and wishing that I could just die and get it over with.

By Monday morning I felt better - not great - but good enough that I could get out of bed and move around without having to worry about barfing. I figured that I'd better clean up so I gingerly got in the shower and started rinsing off the barf and sweat and piss and shit. I was washing off my stomach when I felt a sudden soreness. I looked down and found that my navel was all red and swollen and irritated-looking, or at least the skin around it was. I took another look, and oh shit, I had a tattoo! Those bastards, they must have gotten me the tattoo when I was too drunk to know what was going on. It was like, maybe four inches across and looked like a sun with red and orange flames shooting out of it, centered on my navel. After I got out of the shower I put some ointment on it to soothe the irritation and hoped that Dad wouldn't be too pissed. No luck, he was fucking livid! Screamed at me for what seemed like hours. But in the end, there was nothing that either of us could do. We figured that I'd lose some competition points because of it, but hoped that my strong physique would make up for it.

When I finally felt well enough to go to school on Wednesday, everyone at school had heard how I had gotten "wasted" that weekend and had ended up with a tattoo. Just to piss them off, I'd worn a long top and kept my shorts pulled up so that it was completely covered. But at the next competition, it was on display for everyone to see. I guess I lost some points because of it but still came in the first place.

I think that I may have added enough muscle mass that I can cut back on the pills. I've added almost another twenty-five pounds and my weight is just below two hundred now. My neck is now as thick as my head, my thighs are very muscular, my abdomen has these really well-defined abs, my pectorals stand out a good three inches from my chest, and my biceps are really huge. When I've been working out the veins covering my muscles swell up with the blood pumping through them and I really look great. I was hanging around with the guys at the mall last night and one of them commented that I was getting to look pretty good. I'd put on a really tight T-shirt that afternoon so I just turned and looked at the guy for a second, then flexed my back muscles and split the T-shirt right down the sides. "Oh, I hadn't noticed," I said and that broke everybody up. I just wore the tattered T-shirt around the mall the rest of the evening. And whenever I caught someone looking at me I'd flex my muscles a little to give them a good view of my development. Neat!

At the last couple of competitions that I've been in, I've walked away with first place and I've definitely become the guy to beat. Some of the guys that I've been competing against have been hinting that nobody could add that much muscle mass that fasts - without some help. But screw 'em - they could take 'roids too if they really wanted to compete. Dad's been posting lots of pictures of me and my trophies on his website and he's been getting feedback from bodybuilders all over the world about how great I look. We've been talking about maybe participating in some international competitions.

The thing that bothers me though is that my dick and balls haven't regained their original size. To look at me with my huge muscular development, you'd think that I have to be hung like a horse - especially with all the padding in my posing briefs. But my dick is still this little one-inch thing and you can't find my balls at all anymore. So I decided to quit using the 'roids - completely. Turns out I'd just emptied the most recent jar of the pills and I told Dad not to buy anymore.

Well, stopping the 'roids did take some getting used to. I've still got the huge muscle mass but I've seemed to lose a lot of my energy. While I was taking the drugs I'd get really pumped up and want the workout sessions to go on forever and ever. Lately, I'm pretty wiped out after only an hour of exercising. One thing that hasn't changed is my appetite. The 'roids had given me an enormous appetite and I still want to eat everything in sight. But I've got to watch that or I'm afraid that I'll start gaining weight - and I'm afraid that it won't all be muscle!

Gosh, Romey is looking more and more "girlie" every day. His hair is longer now and he's parting it so that it sweeps down over the left side of his face and partly covers up his left eye. And he's started wearing these shirts that are so short that they expose his navel and you can see that it's been pierced and he's wearing a silver heart studded with some jewels in it. He was trying to strike up a conversation with me at school today and I noticed that he was talking with a noticeable lisp.

Damn, I was afraid that was going to happen it's been about three months since I stopped taking the drugs and I've gained some weight. Well, like, "some" is actually a pretty good-sized weight gain. I've bloated up to just under two-thirty these days. Now, I don't have this huge gut or anything. I've still got the muscles but they're hidden under an inch or so of fat. You can tell that I've got these huge muscles by looking at me, but now my body looks smoother and a bit softer with its layer of fat. My loss of definition was killing me in the competitions so I quit competing about a month ago - till I can get my weight back under control.

Plus, I've packed on some weight in an embarrassing location! I used to have these huge muscular pectorals on my chest but now each pec has gotten covered up by a thick layer of fat. Each one is about the size of a large cantaloupe and they hang down an inch or two on my chest. I was looking at them in the mirror the other day as I was toweling myself off after taking a shower in the morning. I cupped one in my hand and was surprised by its warmth and softness

A couple of weeks later the guys at school were kidding me about my "developments."

"Developments?" I asked.

"Yeah," one of my friends replied, "don't you know what your chest looks like when you're walking down the hall?"

I realized that you could clearly see my big floppy pecs bouncing up and down and swinging back and forth through the thin fabric of my tank top as I walked along - that was pretty embarrassing. After school, I went over to the mall and bought several workout tops. I picked out ones that were black and made of thick cotton - and that were several sizes too large. They're so big and floppy that they completely hide the shape of my upper body.

Even though I was embarrassed when the guys were kidding me about the size of my pecs, I had to admit that I kind of liked the way they felt - with their weight hanging on my chest and the way they bounce and swing back and forth as I move around. I can't really explain it but the feeling of them on my chest is, well, uh, kinda "sexy" in a way.

After the ribbing I took from some of my friends about the way my chest has developed, I haven't been hanging around with them as much. Whenever I was with them I was always trying to hide the shape of my chest and I could see that they were glancing at me and I could guess what they were thinking about, so I gradually stopped hanging around with them at school or meeting them at the mall or places like that.

I was afraid that Dad would be upset when I dropped out of the competitions, but surprisingly enough he didn't say much about it. Well, he did kid me once by chuckling and saying, "Well 'Juggs', looks like you're developing a pretty good chest there."

"Yeah? Thanks a lot, Dad," I replied as I blushed.

Guess one good thing about the big soft pecs that I've developed is that they're, uh, sure fun to play with! When no one else is around I'll usually have one of my hands upon my chest, tracing around one of my nipples with my fingers, or just massaging and stroking one of my pecs.

The sensations as I play with them are way more intense than when I play with my tiny dick and it doesn't usually take too long before I'll come and shoot my wad into my shorts - well, really just dribble a little liquid into my shorts, dampening the crotch. We were sitting at the supper table the other day and I noticed that Dad was looking over at me. I blushed as I realized that I'd been playing with one of my pecs with my left hand while my right hand shoveled food into my mouth. Dad just smiled and said, "That's the okay champ. If it feels good, do it."

Since I'm not competing anymore, I did something last week that I had wanted to do for a while - got another tattoo. Went to a local tattoo parlor and after I looked around for a while, I picked out a tribal tattoo - you know, the kind that has these big black geometric designs and swirls. Anyway, it pretty much covers my right pec. Looks pretty good, I think. But it was kinda funny when I was getting the tattoo.

Like, the guy who was doing it was sitting across from me and he was supporting my right pec in his left hand while he used his right hand to apply the tattoo. As he was tattooing me, he was kind of massaging my pec - guess it was to get them positioned right for the artwork and to get the skin tightened up so the artwork would come out right - but it felt kinda weird to have him "playing" with my pec like that and I was getting pretty turned on and pretty soon my G-string was all wet. Like, it feels good when I'm home, and I masturbate by playing with my pecs, but when the guy at the tattoo parlor was touching and massaging them, it felt really good.