ROIDED TRANSFORMATIONS

Royd Roided had a mission. He had a project: helping to spread the juiced muscle brotherhood, as he thought of it. Having struggled and succeeded against the odds, which were stacked against him from an impoverished c***dhood, he had been educated to the very highest standard in both biochemistry and psychology. Big, lucrative jobs came his way in rapid sequence. By age 48, he had amassed a tidy fortune through careful but inspired investments. He owned his own big house, freelanced when he felt like it, did as he pleased. Not bad for a boy from Chinatown, he thought - not for the first time - as he lowered his big frame in a chair in front of his computer. Settling, he stretched his arms wide and then cupped his hands behind his head. Nobody knew yet quite how remarkable his research and experimentation into human physiology had been. Nobel territory? Could be. No point rushing, though. Got to keep a good work/life balance, right? And there was the project. Watching the on-screen images while his computer powered up, he wondered again if his new project was going to be worth the effort. There were certainly big risks. The complex formulae and unpredictable psychological aspects could always go wrong. He knew precisely how to get the exact results he wanted on himself, but moving on to others would be, well, challenging. Royd waddled into the kitchen to fix a drink, catching sight of himself in the floor to ceiling mirror in the corridor. Always a pleasure to see in my natural state, he commented inwardly, grinning slightly at his own narcissism. He was dressed in the black string tank and yellow skin tight spandex short shorts he had worn to the gym earlier. His deeply tanned dark brown skin, still glistened with sweat from his workout. Despite the arsenal at his disposal, he believed, it was better to keep the natural body right up to scratch through plain hard work, not to mention the endorphin high which strenuous exercise invariably produced in him. And it kept paying off. At 5' 8" and 255 pounds, Royd's body was covered in muscle. The damp material of his tank top clung to his broad shoulders and his thick, thumb-sized, pierced nipples stood out proudly on his chest. His kept his hair cut to a severe high and tight, his large brown eyes were framed by naturally arched eyebrows and high cheekbones. The huge bull-like ring pierced through his septum, accentuated his full lips. Yes, he thought, the basic body is always very gratifying. Royd returned to the computer in time to hear the voice telling his he had mail. In a minute, he muttered. He wanted to check first that the site was up and running properly. He had argued endlessly with the site designers about getting it just right. If it had gone live overnight as he had been promised, he should be getting some traffic very soon. He clicked on his favorites list, selected his own site and waited. After a moment, the screen flooded with an graphic image of himself naked, superimposed with the words "Roided Transformations". Royd scanned the front page banner he had composed: "Welcome to Roided Transformations, where you will get the chance to meet the largest bodybuilders presently available in town. Check out our e***** catalog. There is a very wide range of sexy bodybuilders here to suit many desires. We aim to offer an experience which will change your life, no less. Competitive rates. In calls only." Under the banner message was a cartoon graphic of a pulsing, oversized, pierced dick with an 'enter' arrow within the Prince Albert. Hmm, Royd thought, maybe that was a rather coarse touch, but he would probably get more hits that way. Inside, the catalog page displayed an assortment of massive, roidgutted bodybuilders, all very different from each other. None of them was entirely naked, all wore provocative clothing. Site instructions urged potential customers to e-mail the webmaster with their choice of man, a brief explanation for their choice and basic personal physical details. Further exchanges would then follow about time, place, terms and conditions. Could be any one of a hundred e***** sites peddling sex, Royd thought, but he hoped that a certain type of man would be intrigued by the suggestion of transformation. He just had to weed out the exact type of fantasies which would suit his purposes. He leaned back in his chair and clicked on his mail box.