Addiction
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Of course I respect you and your studies,” began Dr Julius Zelig, “But what you are suggesting is contrary to my research and all accepted understanding of this issue.”

“I don’t deny it,” said Dr Gordon Halsey, “But I tell you I have isolated the neurochemical.”

“So, you are telling me that if I was to receive this chemical of yours, for only a week, with any substance at all, I would become addicted to that substance, whether or not it contains any addictive component. I could become addicted to Mars Bars, or lettuce!”

“That is the consequence of my work, although I have not trialed it on human subjects as yet,” said Gordon, seriously.

“Well I tell my friend, I think it is bullshit,” said Julius, sipping deeply from his glass of Scotch. “In fact I will tell you this – try it on me if you like, on some substance. Make me an addict. If you can.”

“I would not want to do that,” Gordon shook his head. “Addiction is a curse, You and I have devoted huge effort into overcoming it. I could not be party to it.”

“That sounds like you doubt your conclusions,” laughed Julius. “But seriously, I want to test your study. All of my work is about isolating the addictive elements in substances and reversing or neutralizing the effects. What you are saying is if addiction is triggered by this chemical “marker” at the beginning, there need be no addictive element in the compound. That is a direct attack on my approach. I want to disprove your findings. No, I insist that you test your theory on me. You well know that some of the greatest advances in medicine have been achieved by self-experimentation. If you believe it, make me your subject.”

“It is because I believe it that I am concerned.”

“Well I don’t,” said Julius emphatically.

“It sounds like your motives might skew the result,” Gordon pondered. “If I were to do it, it would need to be something that you would not want to consume long term, because of its effects, but would have a physical result.”

“How about cheeseburgers,” Julius sniggered. “But no, I like them too much already.”

“No it cannot be food. It should be a prescribed drug. That would produce undesired results but do no harm. Perhaps like a drug that made you lose your hair with continued use. If there is such a thing.”

“Perhaps there is, but only as side effect to other more serious consequences. I honestly do not believe that my full head of hair is at risk. But I agree with your approach.”

“Perhaps add unwanted hair…” Gordon was thinking aloud. Then he raised his finger to signal a ‘eureka’ moment. “Estrogen,” he said. Female hormones. No results for weeks, but if you keep taking them plenty of undesirable results, for a man anyway, without the risk of other health issues.”

“Set it up,” said Julius. I still have family over this side, so I come out regularly. In fact, I will be back over here for a two week stint next month working on a study at a local clinic. You can administer the drugs for a week and observe me for a week. But don’t expect to prove anything. I think you are headed in the wrong direction on this one.

***

Julius looked at the last three Estrogen pills in the plastic jar. Gordon had given him five following the seven he had taken with the damned drug over the past week. He had to think: ‘So I arrived Wednesday last week and took the first round that night. So, the last shot with the Estrogen was on Tuesday night this week. I took another on Wednesday night because I could not sleep. Then I took one yesterday, so if I take one now …’.

It seemed incredible that it was happening as Gordon had predicted. But he could not admit that it was happening. He was trying to convince himself that there been some suggestion, or that some other influence was at play here. Estrogen is not addictive.

The problem he faced was that he would be seeing Gordon for a drink shortly, and he was ready to tell him that he the experiment had failed and that he was not addicted. When he did so, he would laugh out loud, and Gordon would ring his hands, and the world would go back to normal. Addiction was a result of addictive substances in various narcotic substances. Addiction to non-addictive substances was not possible.

Now, when Gordon asked for the five pills he would have t say: “I threw them away”. How else could he explain that he only had three left. In fact, it would be two, because he needed to take another. If he met with Gordon now, surely he would see all of the symptoms of addiction in his shaking body. He needed to take one now. It was a nightmare.

He knew that he needed to get home and try to find a solution to the problem. A manageable substitute, or (if necessary) go cold turkey but in a proper environment. Gordon must never know. One thing was for sure, Gordon must never know how stupid he had been to suggest this. Maybe after he weaned himself off this damn thing?

But after he had swallowed another and saw only two on the bottom of the jar, he felt a panic come over him. If he needed one tomorrow, what would he do? And then he was to fly home on Sunday.

***

Gordon’s mother was pleased to see him. She did notice that he looked a little tense and unwell. It was 3:00pm before he got to her house.

He asked after her health, in a little too much detail. He asked what she was taking for her blood pressure and her angina, then he asked: “You’re not still on Hormone Replacement Therapy are you Mom?”

“Goodness no,” she said. “That was just vanity. I stopped taking them months ago.”

“I suppose you have thrown the tablets out?” he asked, in nervous anticipation.

“No. I think they are still in the kitchen cabinet.”

Although not a religious man Julius Zelig offered up a prayer of thanks. He said to her: “I’ll clean them out for you. You shouldn’t hold on to old prescriptions like that.”

When he found them he took two, and pocketed the rest – several weeks supply. He should not have taken two but he just felt that he needed a better hit. It was Saturday and he was due to catch up with friends for dinner including Gordon. He did not want to be on edge. Then he would be flying home tomorrow. At least he now had sufficient to allow himself to get this monkey off his back.

***

“You look a little different Jules,” said Gordon, after shaking his colleagues hand. “I can’t quite tell how, but different from you last visit. Are you keeping well.”

Gordon had even noticed that the handshake was slightly different.

“I am very well, thanks,” said Julian. But that was not so true. His nipples had been itchy for weeks now. He had learned that he needed to wear a woman’s silk top under his shirt to avoid irritating them. This morning he had noticed swelling and that had brought him to tears. He never used to cry but these days he seemed moody and sometimes it took very little to set him off.

“I have to say that after that trial two months ago, I have sort of changed direction”, said Gordon as they took their seats in the bar near Julian’s research lab. “I am still working in researching neurochemicals, but not in addition after the trial on you failed. It really is your area, so I’ll leave it to you. I was going down the wrong track. I concede that now.”

Julius felt a pang of guilt. All of science could be perverted if people did what he had done – deceived the researcher into believing that a fact was unproven. Not only was he addicted to Estrogen but he had been unable to shake the addiction through many weeks of effort, and he was an expert. He felt that he should say something then and there. But how could he, now the clean leading position, admit to such a grave offence against science.

Worse still, the tablets were running low. Despite who he was the local pharmacy had declined to deliver repeats against his mother’s prescription without her doctor signing off. He had even contemplated forgery. This was clearly addiction.

And that very afternoon when he had asked the GP at the local clinic about a prescription, he said that this drug was dispensed only to women to defer menopause or to male to female transgendered people. He was clearly not a woman. Could he be diagnosed as being transgendered. That would be another lie.

He regretted sitting across from Gordon. Would he see my softer skin, or my lighter colored and silkier hair? Luckily he could not see my soft body and the lost muscles and sparse hair upon it. He could put two and two together and see that for the last 2 months I have been taking female hormones.

Fortunately, Gordon was oblivious, being caught up in his own project, and going on and on about neurology. Jules thought: ‘Sometimes men can be so boring’. He started to imagine himself in a nice warm bubble bath.

***

At the stoplight, Jules looked in his purse to check that number of tablets in the bottle. There were plenty. He congratulated himself. It had worked. He had researched all of the indications of the condition and had been able to convince Dr Perez that she was indeed a transsexual. And he had secured the prescription he needed.

He understood now that he was feeding a habit, just like any junkie. The difference was that there was nothing illegal about the drugs he took. There were no legal consequences. There were just a lot of other consequences.

To win his prize he had to present to Dr. Perez dressed as a woman. There was no chance without it. Dr Perez required proof that his patient was ready to transition. That accounted for what Jules was wearing. A yellow sundress and sandals, and a yellow scarf over his curled hair. After all, he could not take any chances. He needed the pills, and was having trouble sourcing illicit supplies from over the border.

So that meant the he needed to explain everything to his wife Janice. Not the challenge that he threw down to Gordon Halsey – that just made him look stupid. No just that in all his work with addiction, through an accident he had become addicted to Estrogen. It was not his fault. It was an accident. But no, he could not sue the lab, it was his lab after all. He had assured her that he could work his way out of it. He still felt that he could. He told her that it needed to remain a secret. She was up for that – she was just as embarrassed as he was.

But things between them had been strained for some time. The lack of sex had been an issue for months. Then the obvious changes to his body, and the need to borrow her undergarments. He always intended to stick with that story and the claim that he was doing everything he could to end the cravings, so that their marriage could go back to the way it was. But as he dressed to go to visit Dr Perez she looked at him in unconcealed disgust.

“Don’t expect to find me here when you get back,” she said. I will stay with my sister for a few weeks, and if you can kick this problem in that time, I might consider coming back.”

Some women have stayed with their husbands even after transition. Perhaps they had always loved just the person? Even though that person was inside, a woman. But Jules Zelig was no woman. He knew what he was. He was a junkie who would do anything to get his supply. Everything and everybody was expendable. His wife too.

She never came back. They sold the house, and split the furniture. He put all of his clothes in storage, with the items that would not fit into his modest apartment. It had the sole advantage of being near to his lab. The only clothes in the wardrobe were female.

He checked his face in the mirror. Dr Perez was right, he made a very attractive woman.

***

Gordon had been at the lab for about 30 minutes by the time his old colleague was free to see him. He had been touring the facilities with a research assistant.

Jules walked down the hall towards him. Beneath her white coat she was wearing a particularly smart purple dress with black lace trim. The skirt was above the knee and her shiny black heels clicked on the vinyl floor. It was what she liked to wear. The lab cost to be professional, but a knockout look beneath it.

Gordon turned and looked at her in amazement: He simply said: “Jules?” Whether it was a question because he doubted it was the person he knew, or whether he was using the right name was not clear.

“Gordy”, she said. Her voice slightly husky but feminine. “Great you could come by our little establishment while you are out here.”

They walked together. He said: “When I saw that your lab was now headed by Julia Zelig I have to say I was very surprised. I had no idea that you were transgendered”.

“Well, the truth is that I have a dreadful confession to make,” She began. “I lied to you and I broke the fundamental rule of science – ‘when you are proven wrong, admit it’. I did become addicted to Estrogen, just as you promised I would. I have been taking it ever since. Even now, although from a month ago I am no longer addicted. Your neurochemical got me hooked and I took until there was no going back. So here I am. I owe you a huge apology. Your work was sound, and I was not big enough to accept it.”

Gordon sat in a state of shocked bewilderment for what seemed like some time. But then he had to ask a researcher’s question: “So you are no longer addicted. What happened.”

“I had my testicles removed and a vagina constructed,” Julia said flatly. “The testicles were useless already, but I can only assume that the lack of them has allowed the hormones in my system to fill the gap. I suddenly found that I had no craving. Perhaps my own system produces enough. Now I only take Estrogen one week a month. I like to be on a cycle. It makes me feel … more feminine. That’s the way I am these days.”

“I can see that,” said Gordon. “You look fantastic

“Maybe that’s down to you,” she said. “The hormones were your idea.”

“Well I’m sorry if …” he stammered. He was suddenly wrestling with the idea that he had caused his colleague to give up his masculinity.

“I’m teasing, silly. It was your idea, but I’m now totally OK with it. As I said, it’s me who owes you the apology. I was more than unprofessional in questioning your research, I was a prick about it. I am happy to say, that the prick has now gone.”

She was smiling and Gordon was suddenly aware that he was feeling flushed. It was a beautiful smile. She was beautiful.

They walked through the lab a while longer before he said: “Just to show there are no hard feelings, would you come to dinner with me tonight? I think that I would like to know the new you, much better.”

The End

(c) Maryanne Peters 2020