Disclaimer: This story is a FANFICTION. That means: I am NOT a professional writer. I am NOT making any MONEY OR PROFIT from this. I do NOT in ANY WAY mean to imply that ANYTHING in this story is in fact true. This is merely a cautionary tale about the da

Disclaimer: This story is a FANFICTION. That means: I am NOT a professional writer. I am NOT making any MONEY OR PROFIT from this. I do NOT in ANY WAY mean to imply that ANYTHING in this story is in fact true. This is merely a cautionary tale about the dangers of using anabolic steroids, and has about as much relation to real life in the WWF does as "Cinderella" does to Nike. The WWF belongs to Vince McMahon, or UPN, or Ted Turner, or to whoever owns it. I am not quite sure who, but I'm sure somebody will eventually tell me. Thank you.

This story was written by me, Dejah Thoris. You can E-mail me at dejah_thoris42@yahoo.com. You may MST it, put it on your website, or otherwise distribute it for mass consumption in any manner you see fit, but only if you personally get my permission beforehand. If you enjoyed this story and want the entire world to read it, E-MAIL ME! I love getting positive feedback.

This story is dedicated to the millions of idiots out there who have died from steroid addiction. It's particularly dedicated to the first guy who ever played "The Ultimate Warrior" on the old WWWF, and to the guys who replaced him, all of whom subsequently died within about two years from taking steroids.

All I Ever Needed To Know About Working Out I Learned From My Gym Teacher

By Dejah Thoris

Kurt Angle sat down in Linda McMahon's office, wincing slightly from the abscess on his backside. He had a festering wound oozing with pus from where he had been injecting steroids into his body, and he didn't want people to see the track marks.

He stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the pounding in his ears that was his pulse. His blood pressure had shot up dangerously ever since he had started taking steroids. It had gone to a perfectly healthy and normal resting heartrate of 120/80 to a dangerous 360/240, which indicated hypertension.

"I have something to talk to you about," Linda said.

Kurt scratched at his shoulder. His pores had closed up, and he had acne all over his body. He couldn't sweat anymore. "Yeah?"

Linda leaned forward in her chair. "It's about the D.A.R.E. campaign you're going to be spearheading." She smiled ingratiatingly. "There seems to be a slight problem."

Kurt could feel his temper rising, but kept it down. The steroids had artificially introduced huge amounts of testosterone into his body, which made him dangerously aggressive. So far, he had managed to keep his cool, but he was afraid that one day he was really going to lose it and seriously hurt someone.

Linda sat back and studied his face. "Kurt? Are you all right? You look flushed."

It was his metabolism working overtime, Kurt knew. He felt tired all the time, like he had just finished a really strenuous workout. He had to eat eight meals a day in order to not feel hungry, and all of his organs were working overtime.

Kurt shrugged. "I'm fine." His voice came out a little squeaky. The transgendering effects of the steroids were starting to take hold. He had stopped growing body hair, and had actually begun to develop breast tissue.

"Anyway," Linda said, "I think you can do the commercials, but the tour isn't a good idea. I've checked with the company physician. You're in extremely poor shape. Your cholesterol is at a dangerous level, and you may actually need some organ transplants."

Kurt nodded. Ever since he had started with the steroids, he had developed some severe heart problems. "I can work with that."

"Good." Linda gave him a schedule. "You can go now."

Kurt walked out, feeling ill. He wanted to throw up, but first he had to take another injection and work out for an hour. Then maybe he could throw up.

Linda pressed a button and said into the intercom, "Please send Stone Cold Steve Austin in. It's about his sponsorship for Mothers Against Drunk Driving."

I really hope you enjoyed that story, and learned something as well. I would like to thank Mr. Babcock, my P.E. teacher, for providing me with the inspiration for this story and telling the entire class the sordid truth about Hulk Hogan's muscles.