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Chapter 28: Malevolent Interference Clearview University Medical - Dumpf Tower, basement. 22:46 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location. The Alpha moved down the corridor without sound. At the very end, the door to the old hospice room stood open. Inside, nothing had been renovated. The bed remained where it had been years ago, metal rails cold and dull. An IV stand leaned slightly to one side. The window was half-boarded, letting in a sliver of grey city light that cut across the floor like a blade. Dr. Clark Grant sat on the ground beside the bed. His back rested against the frame. One arm lay across his knee; the other dragged slowly through his hair in absent repetition. He looked smaller here—not physically, but in posture. Folded inward. Still in his same dark slacks and rolled sleeves, tie long since discarded. He hadn’t spoken since being brought here. He hadn’t begged. He hadn’t raged. He just sat. The Alpha filled the doorway, watching him the way one might observe an insect that refused to move. There was no pity in his expression. No impatience either. Just curiosity—clinical and sharp. “Well,” the Alpha said smoothly, voice echoing faintly off tile and glass. “Are you enjoying the nostalgia, Clark?” Grant didn’t look up at first. His fingers paused briefly in his hair. Then slowly, deliberately, he lifted his gaze. There was no fear in his eyes. Only contempt. He didn’t answer.The silence stretched long enough to become deliberate. The Alpha stepped further into the room, boots echoing once against the floor, then stopping just short of the bed. “I chose this room,” the Alpha continued lightly. “Because I assumed you wanted the trip down memory lane.” Clark Grant’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Still no words. Only that glare—steady, exhausted, burning. For the first time since entering, the Alpha’s smile thinned just slightly. He had expected grief. Rage. Pleading. Instead, he had been given silence. And something far more dangerous. The Alpha let the silence linger a moment longer, then exhaled through his nose in faint amusement. “Suit yourself,” he said, turning toward the door. “Brood if you must. It changes nothing.” He had taken two steps when Grant spoke. “You’re losing.” The words were quiet. Calm. Almost conversational. But they stopped the Alpha mid-stride. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Slowly, deliberately, the Alpha turned back. Grant hadn’t moved from his place on the floor. His posture was still slumped, hand still loosely resting against his temple. But his eyes were sharp now. Focused. “Careful,” the Alpha warned softly. “You mistake your confinement for weakness.” Grant gave a faint, humorless breath that might have been a laugh. “No,” he said. “You mistake your arrogance for blindness.” The Alpha’s gaze darkened. Grant shifted slightly, resting his elbow on his knee as if settling in for a lecture. “Have you tried reaching them lately?” he asked. The Alpha said nothing. “Some of your newest creatures,” Grant continued evenly. “Like the one from the lab that Krell created. You can’t feel him, can you?” A flicker—brief, controlled—but real. Grant noticed. “And if you can, I bet…” he added, “It’s clouded. Distant. Not fully yours, is he?” The Alpha’s presence in the room sharpened, pressure building behind his eyes. “Choose your next sentence carefully,” he said. Grant ignored the warning. “And the cocky one,” he went on, voice steady. “I bet he’s already disobedient again. Emotional instability spreading through the network like a stress fracture.” The Alpha’s jaw tightened. Grant finally stood, slow but deliberate, using the edge of the bed to steady himself. He didn’t step toward the Alpha. He didn’t need to. “Ah… now you feel it,” Grant said quietly. “The interference.” For the first time, something like irritation edged into the Alpha’s expression. Without breaking eye contact, he reached outward. His consciousness stretched, expanding through the network like dark roots probing soil. He searched. Zero: Nothing. A void. Gravestone: Present—but blurred. Muffled. Sedated. Useless. Stag: Unstable. Emotional. Disobedient. Spencer: New. Loud. Chaotic. Lockjaw: Distracted. Concerned. The Alpha’s internal sweep hit turbulence—static across the edges of his control. Not broken. But strained. He withdrew slowly. Grant was watching him with open satisfaction now. “Well?” Grant asked. The Alpha said nothing. But for the first time since entering the room, his silence was not confident. It was calculating. The Alpha did not speak immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes. The room seemed to dim as his consciousness surged outward again, more forceful this time—like a tidal pull instead of a probing current. He pushed deeper into the network, past surface impulses and shallow thought loops, searching for resistance. Zero remained unreachable. Not dead. Not severed. Just… absent. Like a signal lost beneath concrete. Gravestone’s presence flickered weakly at the edge of awareness—there, but distorted, as though wrapped in heavy gauze. Thought patterns slow. Motor functions suppressed. Chemical interference. Stag was a storm. Emotional spikes, protective impulses, resentment. He was obeying in motion but not in mind. The Alpha could feel Lockjaw’s proximity to him—watchful—but it did not steady the turbulence. Spencer was bright. New connections firing wildly, sensory overload, hunger and curiosity colliding. Useful—but unpredictable. Around the edges, smaller hosts pulsed normally. Patch. Pixel. Sticks. Beau. Garrett. Their signals remained intact. But the structure wasn’t clean anymore. There was drag in the system. Friction. Independent thought surfacing in places it should not. The Alpha’s eyes snapped open. He sent a command through the network—sharp and absolute. Return. All of you. Return to the lair. Immediately. The order rippled outward, reverberating like a struck bell. In distant corners of the city, bodies paused. Heads turned. Attention shifted. But even as compliance began, the Alpha could feel the delay. The fractional hesitation before obedience. It infuriated him. Across the room, Grant watched the subtle shift in the Alpha’s posture—the tightening shoulders, the sharpened breath. “You can’t tighten the leash forever,” Grant said quietly. The Alpha turned his head slowly toward him. Grant’s expression was calm now. No anger. No grief. Only certainty. “That isn’t how this strain was built,” Grant continued. “You’re pushing against architecture you don’t understand. That you could never understand.” The Alpha stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two measured strides. “You presume so much, Doctor,” he said softly. Grant didn’t retreat. “You forget, I designed it,” he replied. That landed. The Alpha’s eyes narrowed. Grant tilted his head slightly, studying him the way he might study a specimen under glass. “Go on,” Grant said. “Increase the pressure. Flood the signal. See what fractures first.” For the first time, something close to unease flickered beneath the Alpha’s composure. Because beneath the obedience… He could feel resistance. And resistance spreads. The Alpha moved first. One instant he stood across the room; the next he was directly in front of Grant, presence swelling, shadow swallowing the light from the window. The pressure in the air thickened, heavy enough to make breathing deliberate. “What did you do?” the Alpha asked. Not shouted. Not growled. Asked. Grant met his gaze without flinching. “I finished what I started,” he said quietly. The Alpha’s mind pressed forward, brushing against Grant’s thoughts like claws testing glass. He expected panic. Fracture. A tell. Instead, he found structure. Layered containment. Grant had compartmentalized. “You think a few unstable hosts mean you’re winning?” the Alpha said. “I can reassert dominance in minutes.” Grant’s lips curved faintly. “You already tried,” he replied, “How’s that going for you?” The Alpha’s jaw tightened. Grant took a slow breath, steadying himself—not in fear, but in resolve. “You can feel it slipping, can’t you?” he asked. “The delay between command and compliance. The interference. The noise.” The Alpha’s mental presence sharpened dangerously. Grant leaned slightly closer. “It’s already out there, you know.” This time the Alpha did react. The pressure in the room spiked—light flickering once overhead. “What,” the Alpha said, each word precise, “is out there?” Grant’s voice did not waver. “The cure.” The word landed between them like a detonator. The Alpha lunged mentally—no subtle probing now. He forced his way into Grant’s consciousness, shattering the careful partitions and diving past surface memory. Grant gasped, knees buckling, but he did not scream. The Alpha tore through data—emails sent through private accounts, encrypted attachments routed through third-party labs, fragments of research dispersed intentionally. Grant had been reaching outward. Quietly. Methodically. Names. Institutions. Independent virologists. Then— A final, hail mary attempt. Recent. Clear. To Dr. Trevor Kade, Julian’s Infectious Disease doctor. Elias’s husband. Tex’s brother. The Alpha withdrew abruptly. Grant collapsed against the bedframe, breath ragged now, tears slipping down his face—not from fear, but from strain. “You—” the Alpha began. Grant laughed softly through the tears. “You didn’t think I would sit quietly while you played god,” he said. “You don’t understand the system you’re piloting.” The Alpha straightened slowly. “I will increase the viral load,” he said coldly. “Across every host. Burn out resistance.” Grant’s laugh sharpened. “I already told you. That’s not how it was designed.” The Alpha’s eyes narrowed. “You can try,” Grant continued, wiping a tear from his cheek. “But you’ll destabilize your own network. It was never meant for brute amplification. You’re not the architect. You’re the anomaly.” Silence. Heavy. The Alpha stared at him for a long moment. Grant’s voice dropped lower. “You’re finally nervous,” he said. “I can see it.” For a heartbeat, the Alpha considered breaking him entirely—shattering what remained of his mind. Instead, he stepped back. Fury simmered beneath composure. “You will tell me everything,” he said. Grant shook his head slowly. “No,” he replied, “I don’t think I will, you bastard.” And for the first time, the Alpha understood something dangerous. Grant was not afraid to die. He was afraid of losing. And he believed he already had not. The Alpha did not leave. Not yet. Instead, he reached again. Not to search. To break. The room rippled around Grant like glass bending in on itself. The abandoned hospice wing of Dumpf Tower gave way, replaced with the sterile hum of memory. The air smelled faintly metallic and clinical. The old fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing with that tired electrical whine Grant remembered too clearly. Machines surrounded the bed, outdated monitors blinking in uneven rhythm. Julian lay there. Too thin. Too pale. Eyes open—but wrong. Grant’s breath hitched as the scene solidified. He felt himself standing beside the bed, just as he had that night, hands shaking as he adjusted lines that no longer mattered. The monitor began its slow decline. He knew what was coming. He tried to turn away. He couldn’t. The Alpha held him in place. The flatline came. Long. Continuous. Unforgiving. Silence swallowed the room. Julian’s chest no longer rose. But his eyes remained open. And then— They moved. Not physically. But in the way nightmares move. They fixed on Grant. Dead. Glassy. Unblinking. “Clark.” The voice was wrong. Hollow. Too clear. Grant’s throat closed. “No. Don’t you fucking dare.” “You didn’t do enough.” The words slipped into his ears and into his skull at the same time. “You said you were the best. You lied.” Grant tried to step forward. Tried to grab Julian’s hand. He couldn’t move. “You failed me.” The room darkened around the edges. Julian’s lips didn’t quite move when he spoke again. “No one will ever love you the way I did. How could they ever love a failure like you.” Grant shook his head violently, tears spilling freely now. “That’s not real. That’s not him.” “You’re unlovable. How many people said that before I came along?” The words overlapped, layered, whispered from every corner of the room. “You couldn’t save me. You couldn’t even keep me comfortable. You watched me die.” Grant screamed. The memory shifted violently—equipment crashing, trays overturned, his own past self striking the wall in rage and grief. But the Alpha forced the loop tighter, sharper. Julian’s dead eyes remained locked on him through it all. “You build viruses,” the apparition whispered. “You experiment. You play god. And you still couldn’t save the one person who mattered. Me.” Grant collapsed in the memory—and in the present—knees hitting the cold tile of the abandoned room. The Alpha moved through the constructed nightmare like a shadow puppeteer, amplifying every insecurity, every buried self-accusation Grant had never allowed himself to voice. But beneath the grief— beneath the torment— There was something else. Resolve. Even as tears streamed down his face, Grant forced his gaze back up toward the image of Julian. “You’re not him,” he said hoarsely, “He’d never say anything like that.” The whispering intensified. “You’re afraid,” Grant continued, voice trembling but rising. “You’re afraid because you can’t control what I’ve already set in motion.” The illusion faltered for a fraction of a second. The Alpha withdrew from the memory violently, snapping Grant back into the abandoned hospice room. Grant collapsed against the bedframe, shaking, breathing ragged, tears streaking down his face. But he was still conscious. Still defiant. “You can replay it a thousand times,” Grant rasped. “It doesn’t change what’s already out there.” The Alpha loomed over him, fury simmering beneath controlled stillness. “I will increase the strain,” the Alpha said coldly. “Across every host. I will burn resistance out.” Grant let out a broken, breathless laugh through tears. “I keep telling you, that’s not how it was designed,” he said. “You’ll only fracture your own network. And I’ll be damned if I ever tell you how to fix it.” “Then so be it,” the Alpha said coldly. “Enjoy being stuck in this loop in your mind. Never being able to reach out and touch him. Hearing him say all the things you think about yourself.” Grant let out a sob through the tears, until he finally grew still, his mind now fully stuck in the horrific loop the Alpha created. Silence fell again. Heavy. Unstable. The Alpha was not simply enraged. He was pressured. The Alpha descended into the central chamber of the lair without another word. The space thrummed with low, ambient noise—breathing, shifting bodies, the subtle pulse of shared consciousness humming beneath the surface. The unnamed smilers were already present, scattered through the room in loose clusters. Patch leaned against a pillar. Pixel stood near the far wall, head tilted as if listening to something only they could hear. Sticks paced. Beau and Garrett hovered near the entrance. They felt him before they saw him. The network tightened instinctively as he entered. Good. That reflex was still intact. The Alpha stepped into the center of the room and allowed his presence to swell—not just physically, but psychically. A wave of pressure rolled outward through the hive, demanding alignment. The Alpha walked among them slowly, deliberately, touching foreheads, shoulders, jaws—brief points of contact to reinforce the bond. Then he initiated reinforcement. Slowly, the Alpha sent the mental command for each of them to start fucking. Each man grinned and began to strip away the clothes they were wearing, as well as the tattered rags the rest were wearing. Slowly, each monster and soldier paired up, with the more transformed taking their place behind a lesser changed man. Each smiler slammed into their victim without any wait, slamming hard and fast as they worked themselves into a frenzy. After a few minutes, each smiler came in unison, shooting their foul black cum deep inside their bottom, making each less transformed man moan as their skin blackened even faster. The chamber filled with shared sensation—pleasure amplified, submission intensified, dominance pulsing through the network like a broadcast signal. Hosts leaned into it eagerly. The smilers responded with devotion. Unity surged. For several minutes, the system stabilized. Signal clarity improved. Static diminished. But not completely. There were gaps. Places where the feedback did not return as strongly as it should have. Zero remained absent. Gravestone remained muted. Stag’s signal flickered—emotionally turbulent even now. The Alpha increased the pressure. Each smiler switched partners, moving to the man to their right, increasing their pace and shooting yet another load of cum into them. Each man begged for the ability to shoot their own foul loads, only to be held at bay by the Alpha, sending the promise of their ability to feel the pleasure of shooting their loads if they promised to comply to his wishes. Submission deepened. Compliance strengthened. But the underlying instability did not vanish. It was compressed. Temporarily. The Alpha released part of his control at last, stepping back to survey the room. Bodies lay scattered in satisfied obedience, breathing heavy, eyes dark and devoted. Unity had been restored. On the surface. Then the entrance shifted. Two familiar presences approached. Stag. Lockjaw. And between them—Spencer and his new convert. The chamber quieted almost instantly. Attention shifted. Every mind in the network turned. Spencer stepped fully into the light. His transformation was nearly complete—massive musculature exaggerated further by infection, skin grey and veined, eyes darker than before. He radiated raw newness. Instinct. Hunger. The unified thought rippled across the hive before the Alpha could suppress it. Fresh meat. Stag felt it, too. And flinched.

My favorite part about giving head is the fulfillment i get at making the guy lose himself at the pleasure im giving him. I also get my own pleasure from losing myself at having something so phallic in my mouth. Feeling the heat come off and spill a bit around my lips and that drop of precum due to the guy holding on trying not to cum. And the texture of it hitting my tongue and having the tip reach the back of my through as im gobbling it up, eating dick like it's the best meal ive ever had. The feeling is intoxicating when the dick is just right and I get into my rhythm. I end up being in love with my own technique of sucking dick and a man's moans adds that positive feedback. The process of placing a guys manhood into my mouth as I give in and proceed to give and take all the pleases my favorite thing about it.

He called me back in. "Good news, you are negative" he said I was relieved and my eyes watered up a bit. "Thank you" I said "You should have about a week left of PEP, correct?" he asked "Yes I think so. I have 6-7 pills left" I said "Okay keep taking it regularly if you want to stay negative. I will give you another packet of 14 pills that way you don't have to go to the pharmacy." he said "I just need to ask you a few more questions since you took the test. Some I have asked in our session but now I have to ask again for a survey." he said      How many partners in the last 2 weeks? Six      Gender of your sexual partners? Men      Did you practice safe sex with all your partners? No      How many did you practice safe sex with? 2 maybe Did you provide the condom or did they? They did Did you knowingly and consensually have non safe sex? Yes What kind of sex did you have (oral, anal, other)? Oral and anal Did you know the HIV status of each partner? I think so. Elaborate? I knew 4 were HIV positive and 2 were not. Do you know if the HIV positive men who you shared bodily fluid with are on any medication? I know one is not and the other 3 I am not sure. Was there an exchange of bodily fluid and if so how? Yes they came in my ass and my mouth Did you take PEP everyday and at the same time? Yes everyday and generally the same time. "Thank you for answering the survey. Oh sorry I forgot a few demographic questions." he said     Do you identify as straight, gay, bi or transgender? I paused and looked down. "Bi I guess" I said "Ok a few more questions" he said     How many female partners have you had sexual relations with in the last 4 weeks? None     How many male partners have you had sexual relations with in the last 4 weeks? Six     Have you masturbated in the past 4 weeks and if so to what gender and type of material (porn, pics etc.)? I paused. Gay porn, and BBRT profiles. He paused and looked at me. "Are you attracted to women" he asked "I don't know" I replied "Do you look at them, check them out, fantasize?" he asked "What do you mean" I replied "Like if you saw a hot female student and she was wearing tight spandex or a short skirt, would you stare before you met Rick" he asked "Yes" I replied "Before you had a gf would you flirt and try and pick them up? You have casual sex with them" he asked "Yes and I was good at it" I said smiling "And now after you have had sex with these 6 male partners, do you look at women the same way?" he asked I paused "No I guess not" I replied " I am sure you have seen women on campus in tight or short outfits. Any flirt with you?" he asked I thought "Yes one of my coworkers she wore tight and short outfits. I could even see her panties and sometime she showed camel toe. She even used her foot to rub my cock" I replied "And how did you react" he asked "I didn't" I said "What do you mean you didn't? Did you get hard, flirt back, hook up, anything? He asked "No I didn't get hard, I got embarrassed and...." I said and paused "And what?" he asked "I tried to hide it cause the Professor was there and I didn't want him to see or ...." I said "You think he would have busted you both?" the nurse asked "Yeah and..." I said "It is okay I just am asking question to help you with your answers" he said "And I think I want to help you be self aware" he said as he put his hand on my knee "And I was worried he would see and I think I was more interested in him not thinking I was liking it cause I wasn't" I replied "So you were more worried about the Professor liking you?" he asked "Yes I guess so" I said "Is that the same Professor you had sex with?" he asked "Yes" I replied "Is he HIV positive?" he asked "Yes he is" I said The nurse looked down at my crotch. My cock was hard. I paused "I think I am exploring sex with men and male intimacy but probably going to stay with it and maybe I should just answer gay instead of bi." I said "What made you change your mind?" he asked "Just talking to you and realizing how far I have come. I want to see where this goes. I can always change and go back to women or both. I think for now I like men" I said "Good for you" he replied. "Back to the issue of PEP and HIV and don't forget other STDs there are many health risks. I see the conflict in you and it is up to you to decide what is best for you. Just make sure to do it with eyes wide open. I like you am a gay man. There are fantasy and feelings and sexual and erotic explorations but, in the end, it is your health and it is real with real life consequences. It isn't a sex novel, it is real and real life. Ok?" he said. I nodded. He gave me the second PEP packet and I left. I felt more comfortable about being me.

Personally, I never ask using the word "clean". I will just ask about sexual health status. If I get asked I never use the words clean unless its referring to if I took a shower or if I've cleaned out. If I know their intent is to ask about my sexual health status but ask "are you clean" I will answer with what my current sexual health status is and go from there. I don't like dancing around what the intent of the question is. Much prefer disclosure.

the taste of uncut cock 🙂

i never had a name for it, but there are times im just craving cock and I will do whatever it takes to get a cock in me

for me, its any guy over 8 inches. at first its always very painful for me, but eventually the pain goes away when he gets through. i didnt know what it was for the longest time, until a top with a big cock explained it to me.

Looking for a hot kinky guy with a sloppy loose hole to play inside. Or a pervy couple that would let me goon out to their fisting session. Asslips Gaping Opens for stretching and FF Party bttms Rosebud Hot guys and hot holes only. DM me and let me see that hole

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Dan has emerged from the page with all of the care and emotion that has hooked us all. You have us rooting for him as he meets his struggles, maybe not head on, but how each of us do ourselves. His journey thus far is amazing and we look forward to the next turns and triumphs he faces. Thanks man!

I remember being a little bitch to a massive size man an huge cock that stretched my hole

it varied,but average to a couple,sometimes many more each evening.

He will succeed in tariffs, they will essentially be un-impacted by the SCOTUS decision, which in many ways was the correct decision, but for completely different reasons besides tariffs.

Trump doesn't have as good a cabinet as he did his first term. He gets bad advice and little criticism as reflected in his dismal tariff policy. Trump's GOP is probably going to take a good licking in the midterms and the rest of his presidency is going to be tied up in the courts. Trump's going to do everything in his power to hamper & delay tariff refunds while trying to use obsolete laws like the 1974 Trade Act which was based off when the country was still on the gold standard with fixed currencies. We now have floating currencies which render the 1974 Trade Act and its section 122 irrelevant. Lower courts will strike them down just like they did the International Emergency Economic Powers Act. Biden couldn't forgive student loan debt, and Trump can't impose tariffs.

Not enough!

Where can I find a woman like this?

Thanks! I actually agree with you!

Hitting the second ring has to be done with finesse. I have several FBs who are 11 inches. One used to load me weekly when we first met. For some reason, it never hurt. Same with the other guy. But I've had smaller dicks, 8s and 9s barge in without warm up or technique that weren't that enjoyable and hurt like hell. Wanting the dick just wasn't enough to make it work. The top needs a certain finesse, even if he'pounds and jackhammers.

I say see what you can learn to make the experience better for you and your future bottoms. This experience can make you a better top if you return to topping or if you become verse.