The tram ride home is nearly empty, just the hum of the rails and the wet hiss of rain on the windows. Aron sits with the GeneFlex tube in his lap, thumb brushing over the smooth metal. SAFE, it says. He tries not to think about the UNSAFE setting.
By the time he gets to his building, the streets are quiet. His studio apartment greets him with the faint smell of old coffee and rain-soaked clothes hanging near the radiator. He tosses his jacket over the chair and sets the tube on his desk, the mirror on the wall catching a glimpse of his own reflection.
Out of habit, he flips open his laptop. A quick search for “GeneFlex SAFE review” brings up shady forums, half-dead message boards, and the occasional glowing testimonial.
Took SAFE dose, felt warmer, more energized, slept like a baby. Growth noticeable after a week.
Girlfriend says I am running hotter. Pumps in the gym feel insane.
Safe mode is like a slow burn. First night I just felt restless but the next morning my arms felt thicker when I ran my hands over them. Even without looking, I could tell there was more there, like the muscles had a denser weight to them.
Do not expect magic in ten minutes. Give it days. The changes are real and they stick.
If you want fireworks, you will be disappointed. If you want to wake up one day and realize you have been getting bigger without noticing, this is your stuff.
He scrolls for almost an hour, the blue light making his eyes ache. Finally, he spins his chair around and freezes. The mirror is directly in front of him.
He looks… small. Narrow shoulders, hollow in the chest, thin wrists. The t-shirt hangs off him like it was made for someone else. He lifts an arm, flexes. The shape is there, but faint, almost apologetic.
The GeneFlex tube is still on the desk. He picks it up, unscrews the cap, and takes out the injector pen. The tip hovers over his thigh for a second, but he stops. Sets it down on the counter.
He paces. Picks it up again. Sits back down, thumb on the button—stops. His reflection in the mirror stares back, looking just as small.
His phone buzzes. A message from Levi.
Leave the pens alone. SAFE or not, you don’t know how this stuff hits you. I’ll help you with the gym. We’ll do it the right way.
Aron reads it twice. Sets the phone down. His heart thumps harder, a mix of frustration and something else he can’t name.
The pen is in his hand before he thinks about it. A sharp inhale. Press to thigh.
*Click*
The hiss is quiet, almost polite, but the warmth blooms instantly, crawling up through his leg and into his torso. His skin prickles. Every heartbeat feels heavier, more deliberate.
He stays there for a moment, pen still in hand, staring into the mirror. The reflection hasn’t changed. Not yet.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
The thought is sharp, almost panicked. He pictures Levi’s face if he found out—disappointed, maybe angry. He sets the pen down, rubbing his hands together as if he can scrub the decision away.
It’s just chemicals in your blood now. No undo button.
But then, another voice edges in, quieter but steadier.
You’ve been staring at that same weak reflection for years. You were never going to change it by hesitating.
He leans back in the chair, the warmth still spreading through him like an ember catching.
Levi can have his gym plan. I’ll have this.
For a long moment, he just watches himself in the mirror, half-expecting some immediate shift. Nothing yet. But the pen on the desk is proof that something has started.
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