The dimly lit basement reeked of sweat, cum, and stale beer, the kind of place where jocks like Brock and Jax hung out after pumping iron at the gym, their bodies still slick from the workout. Brock was a massive brute, 6'4" of pure muscle, his veins bulging like ropes under his tattooed skin, a thick 9-inch cock swinging heavy between his legs, already leaking toxic precum. Jax was leaner but no less vicious, his abs ripped like a washboard, his 8-inch dick pierced at the tip for that extra rip when he tore into fresh meat. Both were poz kings, their blood swimming with the virus they'd proudly collected from countless raw fucks, turning negatives into walking time bombs.

They'd spotted the twink at the club earlier—some clueless 22-year-old named Alex, all smooth skin and innocent eyes, bragging about being neg and clean. "Fucking idiot," Brock had laughed, slipping a roofie into his drink. Now, Alex was sprawled on the grimy mattress, groggy and half-conscious, his wrists bound to the bedframe with duct tape. He mumbled protests, but the drugs kept him weak, his hole exposed and twitching as the two tops circled him like predators.

"Look at this fresh neg hole, bro," Brock growled, slapping Alex's ass hard enough to leave a red welt. "Prime for pozzing. My strain's gonna eat him alive—full-blown AIDS in under a year, watch."

Jax chuckled, stroking his pierced cock, the metal glinting under the bare bulb. "Nah, mine's nastier. Drug-resistant shit from that whore in the alley last month. We'll tag-team this bitch, flood him with our gift, and shave a decade off his pathetic life. Bet he won't even hit 30."

Brock grabbed Alex's hips first, pinning him down with one massive hand on his back, the twink's face smashed into the mattress. "Hold still, you neg slut," he snarled, spitting on his hole before ramming in raw. Alex screamed, but Brock just laughed, thrusting deep, his toxic load churning inside. "Feel that? That's my virus knocking at your door. Gonna convert you, make you one of us—coughing up blood while we fuck your wrecked ass."

Jax watched, jerking off, his eyes hungry. "Pound him harder, bro. Break that barrier. I want him bleeding for my turn."

Brock pistoned relentlessly, his balls slapping against Alex's thighs, grunting with each brutal stroke. "This hole's tight—neg as fuck. Not for long. My poz cum's gonna rewrite his DNA, turn him into a diseased cumdump. Imagine him wasting away, begging for meds he can't afford. Shortens his life? Hell, we'll end it early."

After a few minutes, Brock pulled out with a wet pop, his cock glistening with precum and a hint of blood. "Your turn, Jax. Pass the meat."

They flipped Alex like a ragdoll, Jax pinning his shoulders while Brock held his legs spread. Jax slammed in without mercy, the piercing scraping Alex's insides, drawing a fresh cry. "Fuck yeah, feel that tear? That's my gift sliding in deep. Our strains mixing in your gut—double the poison. You're done, boy. No more clean life for you."

Brock leaned in, whispering in Alex's ear while Jax fucked him senseless. "We're bragging rights, kid. We've pozzed dozens—turned jocks like you into skeletons. Your hole's just another notch. By morning, you'll be infected, rotting from the inside. Short life ahead—blame our toxic cocks."

Jax sped up, groaning. "Gonna cum soon. Flood this neg pig with my load. Watch him swell up with fever in a week."

They traded him back and forth for hours, each turn more vicious—Brock choking him lightly while Jax bit his neck, both joking about his impending doom. "Bet his family's gonna wonder why he's dying young," Brock laughed mid-thrust. "Our secret—pozzed by the best."

Finally, they both unloaded deep, pinning him flat as their mixed cum seeped out, the virus taking root. Alex lay broken, sobbing, but the jocks just high-fived, wiping their dicks on his face. "Another one down, bro. Who's next?"