Take a Survey on the use of Breathwork
for Anxiety, Depression, Trauma, or PTSD
Researchers at Johns Hopkins seek responses to an anonymous survey on breathwork. You can participate whether your breathwork experiences helped or not.
(Must be 18+) Take the Survey!
Needles and 2C-Talking-7 at the Fair
2C-T-7 & Heroin
by Nearjat
Citation:   Nearjat. "Needles and 2C-Talking-7 at the Fair: An Experience with 2C-T-7 & Heroin (exp81766)". Erowid.org. Jan 29, 2010. erowid.org/exp/81766

 
DOSE:
50 mg oral 2C-T-7
  1 hit IV Heroin

BODY WEIGHT: 145 lb


2C-T-7, this is a wild one. Definitely one of the craziest substances I've ever had the pleasure of entering my body, in ever sense of the word 'crazy'. It's just extreme in every way, extreme side effects, extreme visuals, extreme euphoria, extreme delusions and insights alike. It just seemed fitting to inject heroin for my first time while rapidly coming up on it!

People in this story include my best friend Mark, a fellow psychedelic enthusiast who would be driving the other trippers and I to the Minnesota State Fair. Darla, a lovely lady friend of mine ingesting the T7 with me, also a bit of a psychedelic enthusiast. Charles, Darla's boyfriend who would be attempting to trip on T7 again as his first attempt oddly had no effect on him at 40mg. Charles is the one who happened to bring some black tar heroin to use as payment for the 2C-T-7.

I had never really considered seeking our heroin, let alone injecting it. Darla had done it a handful of times prior, and insisted that Charles was experienced in IV administration and that the experience was definitely one to write home about. I never really told Charles that I wanted to try it that day, I just stood by watching curiously as he dissolved a small chunk of tar in water in his little spoon, moderately coated in heroin resin. He very quickly injected himself in the forearm, using no tourniquette, which I had previously assumed necessary. A blank stare washed over his face and Darla flirtingly pushed him over onto the couch. It was a very entertaining scene, haha.

Mark and I started the day by using a gunpowder scale to measure up enough 2C-T-7 to dose everyone in the group. The scale wasn't accurate enough for single doses in our opinion, well it may have been. But we didn't trust it with T7 with its dangerous potential. So we used it to measure out our doses added up, and dissolved it in water for liquid dosing with very good accuracy. Darla, Charles, and I drank our doses and Mark drove all of us to my workplace to pick up my paycheck, as I was paying for everyone to get inside the state fair. On the way there we stopped at a pharmacy to purchase some 1/2cc insulin syringes. Apparently because there isn't a needle exchange in my city, the pharmacy will sell anyone with an ID, and sometimes no ID, syringes at request over the counter.

The T7 was beginning to take effect at this point, my vision was becoming 'soft' and straight lines in my field of view were appearing to become 'unsnapped' and misailigned. My stomach began expectedly voicing its opinion about its contents at this point as well. Darla was becoming nauseated faster than, and actually had to vomit in the pharmacy parking lot unfortunately. Mark began to drive off when everyone was settled, toward my workplace. We only made it about 3-5 blocks before Darla and I both demanded that Mark pull over somewhere safe for us to vomit. He obliged, and every turn of every corner seemed to bring my closer to blowing chunks all over myself.

Mark made it speedily to a local park parking lot, and Darla and I jumped out of the car and proceeded to horrificly empty our stomachs, leaving foamy piles of orange juice smelling of chemicals on the pavement, that's right, you need all that information. You know- for safety! Haha. When we were positive that we no longer needed to puke, we set off again to my job. We hit the freeway and turned up the tunes. My body started developing a warm, sensual body high. It was full of warmth, and electric feeling energy. It was in tune with the music over the speakers very finely. Charles, for whatever ungodly reason, wasn't feeling the T7 at all, but at least he was nodding nicely on heroin.

When I got to my work finally, I was just about half an hour before reaching my peak. I walked throught the back door, swiftly walked through the back room trying not to get distracted by my now MUCH more interesting workplace. I waved at my coworker, hilariously enough the only one working was the ONLY 'straight-edged' employee that works with me. He didn't take notice of my strange movements or pupil size, and I grabbed my paycheck without incident! I ran across the street to the bank, grabbed some cash and got back in the car.

From there we headed back to Marks house to get ourselves together before heading to the fair. At this point Darla and I were already peaking, and Mark hadn't even been able to dose yet. This kinda screwed things up later, and Charles still wasn't feeling a thing on 60mg of 2C-T-7, which is especially strange because 2C-T-2 worked perfectly for him. And although he wasn't tripping, he vomited anyway. I've yet to hear of anyone else with such a strange reaction to this substance.

I shut the car door, and stepped outside in Marks driveway. It was a beautiful day outside, and even in the daylight my visuals were very strong. The trees and shrubs on his property and the surrounding suburban houses seemd to be made up of nearly 2-D rotating layers, pinned together in the center. And all the textures around me were sliding and wiggling like most 2C-x chems tend to do for me. I walked back into his house and started aimlessly wandering, enjoying the powerful visuals.

At this time Darla and I started thinking about how Mark hadn't even dosed yet, and how poorly timed his trip will be compared to ours. Then he told us that he just wasn't gonna trip anymore, and this brought down our ecstatic mood quite a bit. Then because of our dampened mood, physical ailments started making themselves apparent. I started getting leg pains that I guessed were from vasoconstriction, not that I REALLY would know what they feels like, I've just heard that T7 can do that. I also had a very strange, and at the time very bothersome, sensation of one leg being shorter than the other, in sync with the leg pain.

These symptoms and some other less prominent ones gave me a general feeling of physically poor health and 'ickiness'. Darla also shared this 'vibe', although not with the same symptoms exactly, she did end up vomiting again despite already doing so while coming up. I turned on some music in Marks room, and sat down on his bed with Darla trying to relax a bit since we planned on leaving and being in public. I talked to Darla a bit after I felt better, and made sure she was doing ok. She assured me that she was fine, and I left for the living room.

As I moved rooms they seemed to change sizes as I walked through the doorways, with no real repetition or pattern. I was about half way through the living room when Charles muttered to me 'too bad you didn't want any H, I thought I was giving you some for free ha ha'. I looked at him chuckling and said 'Hey man I don't recall saying I DIDN'T want any, I just was trying not to be rude!'. It was time.

'Well shit man you've given me T7 in big doses three times now, it didn't fuckin' work but I still owe ya something!', Charles said to me excitedly. I told him I was ready for it right away, and he scurried off to his backpack to get his supplies. I sat down and got comfy on Marks brown leather couch. Its back was to a bay window, with the sun shining through it, making several beams of bright sunlight through the dust in the dim living room air.

Charles broke out a little tied off piece of plastic grocery bag with a small pebble-sized chunk of black tar heroin inside. He asked me 'Do you have any tolerance to opiates?', and I responded with a cheery 'Nope!'. Charles then humorously told me that he would then only give me a little bit, since he didn't like the idea of killing me, this was only slightly amusing to me in my tripping state. The fact that he actually took the time to ask me about tolerance was somehow comforting, I didn't hang out with a lot of people that had ANY vocabulary knowledge about drugs, haha.

He pulled out the spoon he used earlier, and placed about a fifth of his little pebble sized heroin chunk in the center. He used a brand new needle to draw up a certain amount of water, and squirted it over the little chunk. He then placed a lighter underneath the spoon, adding heat a few seconds at a time and vibrating his hand gently to dissolve the heroin into the water for injection. I sat calmly and chatted idley with Darla with my left arm laying out toward Charles already. I told Darla how I was suprised that Mark wasn't in the room while I got shot up for my first time, and speculated that maybe he didn't approve despite him saying he might try it.

Then Charles said something to grab my attention and told me to grab my bicep tightly, then moved my hand down from where I chose to squeeze. 'Alright perfect.' he said. He again uncapped the new, sterile rig and drew up the brownish-tan solution of heroin into the barrel. He flicked the rig while holding it upright to bring the few air bubbles to the top, and pushed the plunger to remove them. He inspected my forearm, that I had laid over his legs elbow-pit facing up. Charles then instructed me to flex and pump my arm a few times to bring my somewhat deep veins to the surface. I followed his advice and laid my arm back down, with a few blue veins now clearly visible.

Quickly he chose the one right in my elbow-pit as the best candidate for easy striking. Carefully, he positioned the needle parrallel to the vein of choice, at a shallow angle. He mentioned that it will sting a bit, but I knew it wouldn't hurt bad. I then forgot that the T7 wasn't effecting him and quickly stopped him from doing anything to me, 'Dude your tripping how do you know what veins are really there and not visuals? You don't have to do it now if-' and he cut me off, reminding me that he was completely unaffected. Then he went back to his work, hesitating slightly to make sure he still had things in order, then slid the extremely sharp needle into my skin.

While tripping this was quite the interesting sight, the pin slid absolutely effortlessly into my arm, and produced a very distinct type of sting when it entered my vein. Charles held the rig carefully and lightly where it was and used one hand to pull the syringe's plunger back. I felt a wave of nervous energy radiate from the injection site, which felt quite euphoric and made me grin with anxious anticipation. Upon drawing the plunger back dark red blood billowed like a velvet cloud into the barrel filled with the brownish-yellow solution. Charles face displayed a reaction of satisfaction and accomplishment, and I remembered what this little event meant, he had succesfully entered a vein.

He looked me in the eye and asked if I was ready, I didn't say I word, I only nodded with a nervous smile on my face. He slowly pushed down the plunger, letting the solution of water and heroin and blood flow into my vein on its way to my noggin. Once it was emptied into me, he place a finger near the injection site and slowly slid the needle out of my arm and rubbed the area a few times, apparently to get the blood flowing.

Standing up and capping the needle temporarily, he said with a tone of authority or power 'Give it ten seconds man.' And watched my dilated eyes lose focus on the room, and my neck lose its tension and lay back onto the couch. Charles and Darla sat with each other and giggled at my appearance seemingly, I couldn't tell, I was absolutely blissed out.

Just as the heroin started to act on my endorphins, a single beam of sunlight penetrated the dim dusty room, which was pretty dark previously has the sun was hiding for a moment. As soon the euphoria took over I watched the dust particles inside the sunbeam form insanely intricate three dimensional patterns in every color in the spectrum. They rotated, and inverted before my eyes. They were dancing for me, putting on a personalized show in my comfy leather theatre seat.

I was actually incapacited enough by the initial slight-rush I got that I didn't even acknowledge a single thing happening around me, I was just dazed to the maximum definition of that word. When that started to subside into a more recognizable opiate high, I leaned over to Darla who I had a sudden rush of empathy for. I playfully waved at her sitting right next to me, and asked 'how are you feeling Darla, is everything going better yet?'. She replied saying she was doing great, and wanted to know how I liked my first shot of H. Unfortunately I kinda dazed off again and didn't reply as far as I can remember.

I wandered off stumbling slightly into Marks room where the music was flowing out of, through the walls and softly into my ears despite its intense volume. Playing at that time was Jimi Hendrix's 'All Along the Watchtower', I started dancing sedatedly with great joy, while the textures on the objects filling Marks room danced along with me. I calmly said to Mark, sitting on his PC, 'Hey Mark, I just shot heroin- hehe.' and found that quite hilarious that I actualy just did that. He kinda nodded and said that was cool, he seemed a bit upset that he wasn't exactly getting a good deal during todays adventures. I felt bad and told him that Charles would get him high on heroin for free if he'd like, but he decined for reasons he decided not to share and I just left him alone.

The heroin took away all the obnoxious anxiety the nature of trip was giving me, and I was able to enjoy the T7 in a way I wouldn't have been able to otherwise. I became very curious and investigative. At one point I stood in the doorway to Mark's room and placed both my arms parallel to the wall, in a sense 'hugging'his wall. Darla approached, curious as to what in the hell I was doing. I replied to her 'I'm experience Mark's house, and its full of love and deliciousness.' and she giggled at me with what seemed like pity in her voice, but I knew she meant no offense by it.

To my surprise, the heroin didn't at all 'dumb down' the psychedelic side of the 2C-T-7 as I expected, my thought patterns were still entertainingly altered by it, just with a slow and smiley heroin flavor to them. This pleased me greatly because I've always been told on various message boards that opiates ruin a psychedelic trip.

Finally, I pushed everyone to start getting ready to leave for the state fair. Honestly I would've preffered to just stay at Mark's house at that point, but his mother would be home from work long before I was done tripping. And I really didn't want to just drop the plans I had set out, that's just a bad feeling in my opinion. We made the short drive to a nearby mall to catch a shuttle bus to the fair. Mark parked in the mall parking lot and we walked to the waiting area to be picked up.

An old man who worked for the shuttle line was the only other person nearby. We had lots of loud drug related and psychedelically organized conversations right in from of this man, and we didn't realize how funny this may have been to him until after the bus arrived. We must've sounded like downright low-lifes judging by that conversation. It was quite late in the day to be on our way TO the fair, so we were luckily the only passengers on the bus. We sat in the far back where there was a seat about the size of a loveseat and a half, well cushioned too!

The bus was of the type that is extended in length and had an accordion like connection between two shorth halfs, while turning this looked very awesome inside the bus. While driving straight down the highway the repeating seats and slight vibrating motion produced a slight kaleidascope effect when I would stare down the center aisle, this was plenty to entertain me for a few minutes. I stared out the window at the dozens of vehicles make their way toward Minneapolis, and commented to Darla how I was really honestly curious where every single one of those people were headed, and why, and what their life is like. She then also peered out the window and agreed, she shared my curiousity.

After a seemingly lengthy bus ride, who knows if it was time dilation or actually lengthy, we arrived at the State Fair drop of station. We clumsily exited the shuttle and waddled toward an extremely crowded and bustling crosswalk to the fairgrounds. I honestly couldn't tell you how many times we fucked up the simple task of following the policemans instructions on crossing the road, but it was too many to appear sober, I'll tell ya that much. Darla was a bit sketched about this, but I was too high on heroin to really give a damn what we looked like, it's not like anyone was going to pick us out of the hoards of drunk fair-goers to bother us anyway. We did eventually make it inside, and immediately upon being around so many strangers, the tripping analyzation started.

The thought very quickly crossed my mind that this entire event was a massive festival of greed and gluttony. I was surrounded by flocks of overweight, moody, drunk middle aged suburbanites and some rural dwellars, all getting together to spend way too much money on horribly unhealthy (and delicious!) food. I looked around me, and not many others seemed to be in a very good mood! What stood out was a sizeable number of grumpy looking people with sauce stained novelty shirts, counting dollar bills and yelling at spouses and children about prices and budgets. It saddened me quite a bit that a potentially joyous get together of the state was so controlled by money. It wasn't like I didn't know this, everyone must KNOW this if they've been there. Just most people probably aren't as aware of the state of the event like my tripping mind was only able to be.

At one point Darla and I split off to find some lemonade, it didn't take much time for us to spot a big brightly lit lemonade stand, and we made our way toward it. Upon splitting off from the group, our broken tripping speech transformed into very fast flowing happy tripping speech. Some of you readers may know what the broken tripping speech I'm talking about it, it happens with 2C's to me a lot. It's when a trips group dynamic is way off somehow and conversation is just horrible in efficiency, people use the wrong words, completely scramble sentences, talk way too fast, and change subjects mid sentence. It's very easy to identify when you hear it, it sounds a bit panicy.

Well thats how we were talking just about this whole trip because of a shitty group dynamic, but when Darla and I split off that transformed into the free flowing idea machine type talk that comes with tripping with close friends. Darla is a very close friend of mine and it was really cool how we'd finish each others thoughts at a pretty much constant rate, like we were thinking and talking as 'one'. We finally got to the lemonade stand, and our walk there was filled with hilarious conversation about our surroundings and society etc. But when we got to our destination, we discovered that is wasn't a lemonade stand at all, it was an onion ring stand that just happened to be bright yellow with a somewhat lemon shaped logo on top of it.

We gained our composure after laughing our asses off at that, and continued our journey to find lemonade. After painful amounts of manic, over-stimulated laughter at everything each other said and actually- thought, we found a corn dog vendor that also sold lemonade. While paying the elderly lady inside the cart for a large iced lemonade Darla and I discussed how paying for things while tripping really hard is sometimes really hilarious, and of course we didn't even realize that I was paying for this lemonade while tripping really hard, in a hilarious manner. See, I barely knew how to use currency at the time. And I'm pretty sure I gave her some free money in the end. But Darla and I got our bomb-ass lemonade, filled nearly half with ice- cheap fucks!- and made our way back to the group.

On our way back we noticed that the onion ring stand we mistook for a lemonade stand earlier, also served lemonade. Hilarity ensued. We joined up with Mark and Charlie again, and Mark then informed me that he had somewhat recently decided to just dose T7 anyway, and was now pretty much peaking while we were all coming down. Luckily Charlie was sober enough later to drive Mark's car home from the shuttle parking lot. We hung around a bit longer, having a bit of an ackward trip with Mark barely able to form a sentence while Darla and I reflect on the trip we had.

Group dynamics are very important, the trip was fine not a disaster by any means, but it didn't really have a whole lot of 'substance' to it and was really sloppy and anxious feeling because nothing was really 'going right'. This was my second time with 2C-T-7 and I learned a few things about it and tripping in general. First, like every other 2C* I've tried, T7 will give me a sloppy, dumb feeling trip if I dose it haphazardly with poor planning, better than a disaster/horror trip but still shitty.

Two, next time I will make sure everyone can dose at the same time and enjoy the trip together, it makes a massive difference. Three, T7 can make me VERY nauseous. Make sure you get the very likely come-up puke over with before attempting to travel.

Have fun, be safe.

Exp Year: 2009ExpID: 81766
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 17 
Published: Jan 29, 2010Views: 7,252
[ View as PDF (for printing) ] [ View as LaTeX (for geeks) ] [ Switch Colors ]
2C-T-7 (54), Heroin (27) : Combinations (3), Various (28)

COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center and receiving permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.


Experience Vaults Index Full List of Substances Search Submit Report User Settings About Main Psychoactive Vaults