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"Russ, you've got what it takes to be the next Mr. Cosmos." Russ was very pleased to hear this from his trainer, Jack Weston. "But," continued Mr. Weston, you must realize that any great achievement requires sacrifice." "What the hell do you want me to sacrifice now ?" snapped Russ. "I've given up cigarettes, beer, and babes. What else is there ?" The trainer paused, rather long, for effect, and then said softly "your balls." "WHAT THE FUCK ?" shouted Russ. "Are you crazy" How the fuck would that help me become Mr. Cosmos. " Eunuchs are fat and weak." "Russ, Russ, dozens of bodybuilders , now holding titles and profitable modelling contracts, have had themselves castrated. "But, WHY ?" Russ fairly screamed. What the fuck do they gain by it ". "Russ, the ultimate step to the huge muscle mass of a Mr. Cosmos cannot be made without steroids. However, there is only one undetectable steroid and that is testosterone. Because the body already produces it, it can't be detected as the artificial anabolic steroids can." "No doctor would prescribe testosterone for a stud with big healthy balls like yours, but if you had an "unfortunate accident" which destroyed your balls, any doctor would prescribe testosterone to make up for your loss." "And, suppose I wanted to have kids." asked Russ. "Make deposits in a sperm bank . I think they require three, a week apart. Then you'd no longer need baby-makers ." "Got an answer for everything, haven't you ?" retorted Russ. "Once you were nutless, we'd visit 4 or 5 doctors in different towns and get prescriptions for testosterone for you and fill all of them in different drug stores. Then you could take massive doses of testosterone to build up muscle mass." "And this "accident". What did you have in mind ?" "You were trying to drive a stake into the ground with a sledgehammer and the hammer flew back and hit you in the balls." "SHIT ! that sounds painful." "Of course. That's where the sacrifice comes in." "I've heard that getting his balls smashed can kill a man." "Not a strong stud like you, Russ "" I'll tell you what. Inasmuch as taking such huge doses of testosterone will give you a hardon most of the time, you can resume fucking." "Aw gee, thanks. You think it's that easy to get laid ?" " For you, yes." "Think it over." " 'Russ Lombard, Mr. Cosmos' sounds good doesn't it ? Think of the babes who'll throw themselves at you. Think of the modelling and advertising contracts. You gonna throw away an opportunity like that ?" The "accident was even more painful than Russ had imagined and nearly killed him. Russ had made a couple of swipes at the stake with the 6-lb. sledgehammer and then handed it to Jack Weston who was wearing work gloves. The trainer swung it up from the ground in an arc which ended in Russ' crotch lifting him off the ground and throwing him into the air. Russ shrieked, gagged and rolled around on the ground in convulsions. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back and he lay still. For a moment, Mr. Weston thought that he might be dead, but Russ' muscular chest was visibly rising and falling. Mr. Weston punched in 911 on his cell-phone and, soon an ambulance arrived to take the stricken bodybuilder to the ER. It was nearly three weeks before Russ could work out again, but the gains in muscle mass were rapid and impressive. So were the "roid rage", hair loss from his scalp, and frequent raging boners. Russ took to pushing his dick up against his belly and pulling his undershirt down over it to try to conceal the fact that he usually had a hardon. Since he couldn't get laid anywhere near often enough, Russ took to whacking off six to eight times a day and still had two or three wet dreams every night.He lived in a fever of horniness. He had to admit that he'd never been anywhere near this horny when he had balls. After six months of hormone-assisted training, winning the Mr. Cosmos title was a piece of cake.Modelling and advirtising contracts poured in. Russ was basking in the warm glow of publicity, appearing on the cover of every muscle magazine published anywhere, and fucking like a mink. Some five months later, fucking was beginning to feel uncomfortable, especially cumming, pissing was difficult and hurt, and there was a dull ache just forward of Russ' asshole. Russ, of course, went to see his doctor. After he had told the doctor of his symptoms, the doctor said "That sounds like prostate trouble to me. Bend over." Dr. Newry put his index finger up Russ' asshole, felt around, and said "Uh oh." " What's wrong ?" asked Russ. "There's a big hard lump in your prostate gland" Russ felt faint. Big hard lumps anywhere are NOT good news. Dr. Newry pulled a form ou of his desk, wrote a few cryptic figures and letters on it, checked something and said "Take this to Diagnostics, Ltd. up in Room 316 right now and have this blood work done. Remind them that I need it ASAP.Meanwhile, stop taking testosterone, IMMEDIATELY !" Two days later, Russ had a call from Dr. Newry. "Your PSA is out of sight !" I"ve made an appointment for you this afternoon with Dr. Steiner, a urologist. for a prostate biopsy. He's in Room 402,100 Fort Ave. Be there by 2:00 PM. Dr. Steiner dilated Russ' asshole and inserted a contraption resembling a cross between a rivet gun and a Moto-Tool. Five painful jolts later, he had the needed specimens."You'll be hearing from me early next week," said Dr. Steiner, leaving Russ to sweat out the results which might indicate prostate cancer. Russ was in a blue funk by the time he heard from Dr. Steiner the following Tuesday. He was told to meet with Drs. Steiner and Bieler in Dr. Steiner's office . At three, Russ was there., Dr. Bieler was a small round-headed man with a pencil-thin British military-style mustache. He turned out to be an oncologist. The news was not at all good. "You have prostate cancer." Dr. Bieler informed him bluntly. "However, the tumor appears to be encapsulated within the gland and not to have mestatasized. There are three options for treatment, radiation, chemotherapy, and surgery . Dr. Steiner and I have agreed that, in this case, surgery offers the best prospects of a cure." Later that week, Russ underwent a radical prostatectomy. Despite pains taken to avoid damaging the erectile nerves, he became impotent as a result. Dr. Steiner obligingly prescribed anabolic steroids to allow Russ to continue his bodybuilding training and maintain his Mr. Cosmos physique. But, his victory was now a hollow one, for his sex life was ended. |