For me, bodybuilding is not just a sport – it shapes your entire life. It teaches discipline, ambition, and a mindful approach to yourself and others.

…It frees me from many things that weigh heavily on my shoulders in everyday life. Up on stage, I am completely myself – and completely in the moment.

röyd røidéd: The real victory isn't winning the division; it's being my obedient muscle bull. It feels like coming home.

röyd røidéd: It's the weight of my ownership, a constant, cool pressure right in the center of your HGH transformed face, reminding you that with every breath that all this size, all this power, is just for me. They can cheer for the roided-up beast on stage, but we both know the truth.

röyd røidéd: I'm yours to command. It's a strange mix of pride and humility, but it's a feeling I've grown to love. SIR: That's exactly right, daddy. You understand it completely. That trophy in your hand is just metal and plastic, but this ring... this ring is the real prize.

röyd røidéd: When I strut on stage, I'm performing for them, but I'm posing for you. It's like wearing my heart on my sleeve, or in this case, through my nose. It's a part of me now, just like you are. It feels right, daddy. It feels like I'm finally in my proper place.

röyd røidéd: ...knowing that despite all the muscle and the trophies. The ring is cold against my skin, a stark contrast to the fire of the steroids pumping through me, but it's the most real thing I'm feeling. It's a leash I can't see, a brand that marks me as yours.

röyd røidéd: Out there, under the lights, they see the champion, the bull with the trophy. They don't see the truth—that every ounce of this muscle was built for your approval. Every time it catches the light, I'm reminded of the stage, of the judges, and of you watching me...

röyd røidéd: Well, SIR, this ring feels like a symbol of both my strength and my submission. It's a constant reminder of the power I've built in my body, but also of the control you have over me. It feels like a claim, a constant weight that reminds me who this power really belongs to.

SIR: Looks like you're fresh off dominating the masters division, but we both know deep down, you're craving to drop to your knees and submit. What a perfect vision of my obedient muscle bull. Tell me, daddy, how does it feel wearing that ring for me?

SIR: Holding that trophy like a prize you earned on stage, towel in hand, smirking with that big bull nose ring right through your septum—damn, that makes you look so owned, so ready to be led and used.

SIR: That bald dome shining under the lights, veins popping everywhere on that oiled-up, shredded frame, with your gut all distended from the gear, crammed into that tiny neon green thong barely holding it together.