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Chapter 28 BoifagBarbie arched his back and mewled with pure pleasure. It felt so good. His Owner's Big Black Cock plundering his tight boi-hole just the way that both of them preferred - hard and fast. The faggot yelped with pleasure as a heavy Black hand landed on the tempting roundness of his pale butt cheek. He could imagine how good those fingers looked marking him, the pink imprint of an Owner's firm hand on his little fag fucktoy. "Do it again Master - please!" He was rewarded with the firm smack of the hand landing on his butt again. Just adding another intoxicating sensation to the potent pleasure of Jerome's wonderful toxic cock taking him. BoiFagBarbie had earned this fucking. He had behaved himself and spent the day cleaning up his Owner's house. He had also been sure to make himself pretty and available for when his Owner came home. This day just the same as every day over the last week. Since Jerome had taken him to this place to serve as his live-in 24/7 house boi. It was always so good, always so visceral, always so meaningful. Because it always ended the same way - his Owner delivering a heavy load of his charged cum deep into his femboy slut. They weren't fucking for fun, for mere enjoyment - though there was plenty of that for BoiFagBarbie. They were fucking with a purpose. Breeding. Making sure a certain little faggot took his Owner's babies, got good and pregnant with that potent Poz seed. He'd read all about it on the BZ forums. He knew how his graduation from fag cumslut to Poz boi-whore would be signalled. He'd heard men talk about it too, when they weren't jeeringly telling him to get ready for it. So each morning he had woken up expecting to feel the signs and each morning he had found nothing changed. He couldn't remember how that had first struck him but now he knew that each morning he felt disappointed. Even though it would be an unpleasant experience he knew that it needed to happen. It was an essential part of becoming who he knew he needed to be. A step from which there was no return. It would be an event that told himself and the whole world that he could never go back to being who he once had pretended to be, even if he wanted to. Jerome grunted and held him tight as another of his HIV-enriched loads was planted deep. This little faggot was a sweetheart for sure. A good attitude and a tight little hole despite all the cock he had sent its way. He sensed the little slut was getting a little frustrated, wondering if his day would ever come. Jerome had no such concerns. In the end they all got knocked up, they all caught what they were chasing. He could slam or brush the little whore and hurry things along but why should he? He preferred fucking and seeding neg holes - or at least holes that might still be neg. He was certainly enjoying fucking this one. Loved the way the little whore got on his hands and knees and presented that cute little hole to him every day he got home from the day's hustle. Why would he rush things? It wouldn't be long before this little fag would get what he was looking for. Only then, of course, would the young slut really get to know whether it had all been worthwhile. However, that wasn't Jerome's problem. Jerome just enjoyed fucking young faggots and having them carry his bug. Knowing that for the rest of their life, even if just because they had to medicate, they would have no choice but to understand he was part of them, that part of him owned them body and soul. Long after he had moved on to the next hungry hole in need of his attention. BoiFagBarbie looked happy as a pig in shit. His hole full of toxic cum and then rushing to clean his Owner's cock with his sweet mouth. He didn't need to be asked now. He understood his place. Taking all things into account Jerome had no problem with it taking a little longer than some for BoiFagBarbie to convert. He had a little something special in mind for him. *** Floyd Jacobs counted the bills and tucked them away into his pocket once he was satisfied. Cash was always good, a nice slice of tax-free income. "You didn't need to count them," said his client. Floyd knew what his response would normally be to that. This time, however, he simply sent the fool a look that could mean everything or nothing. They were wasting time on such nonsense. "Can you add anything to what you told me on the phone?" It seemed the client agreed. Maybe he'd remembered that Floyd's time didn't come cheap. Floyd, to be frank, didn't care what his client thought. He didn't like this piece-of-shit cracka. He'd met plenty like him over the years. He recognized the type. Even the case was typical - a member of the family gone into the wind. Somehow, fools like his client never quite understood why that might have happened. When the cause they were so desperate to discover could be found in the mirror whenever they liked. "I can tell you the Police got at least one thing wrong. The subject ain't living with no trans whore. That individual is known to me. She basically does custom videos and the like. Stroke clips for men to jack off to." The client looked like he was going to puke. The fucker clearly didn't like the idea of that. Floyd was pleased he had decided to add those little details. It made up for having to meet in a parking lot. It was clear the client also didn't want to be seen with a man like Floyd, let alone have him visit his home. What would people think? Floyd understood. He looked like what he was. A man of the streets, a grizzled old brotha in his late fifties, not quite the country club, Middle American, church-going type. Nobody that folks like the client ever wanted anything to do with. Except, of course, when they needed something. "Anyway she may know the subject but she isn't in no sort of a relationship with him." "Thank God for that," said the client fervently. "At least, at least..." His words ground to a halt. At least what? Floyd could guess. The man's bigotry ran through him from head to toe, a broad and undiscriminating piss-yellow streak. Against folk that didn't look like him, against folk that didn't think like him, against folk that didn't believe the same as him, against folk that didn't love like him. An equal-opportunity hater. "The subject," Floyd continued, "is currently with a man who has a certain reputation. I know a few addresses for him but I haven't isolated the exact location concerned yet." "This man," said the client with a righteous fury in his voice that somehow came across as forced, "this is the man who took my son, who forced him to do such things?" Floyd looked at him carefully - just trying to ascertain if the cracka muthafucka could really be that dumb. They'd both seen the video and they'd both seen that second clip sent to EVERYONE at the subject's former College. Could this man really think his son was doing all of this against his will? Shit - the boy would deserve an Oscar! Floyd paused and carefully lit a fresh cigarette. He enjoyed the exaggerated response his client made when a whiff of the smoke found his nostrils. Floyd knew he would like to tell this fuck the truth about who 'forced' all this to happen. However, he thought of the currency now resting pleasantly in his pocket. Business was business. "The subject is currently with a man called Jerome. That isn't his name but it is what people call him around here. He came to the city a few years back. Tracing him before that is difficult but I can tell you what people say about him. He has certainly done time in the past - probably for armed robbery. If he's ever worked a civilian job nobody remembers it. People say he was a dealer on the wholesale side but if he once was he isn't now and he never got caught doing it. He isn't short of cash and he has about ten years older than me. The word is that Jerome retired to make more time for his other activities." The client's adam's apple moved in his throat as if he was forcing down the information. "Other activities?" The words were finally forced out. Now Floyd could enjoy himself. "Jerome likes young men. Especially handsome young white boys. He likes fucking them, he likes breeding them and he likes turning them out." Every word hit home on the client. Floyd could see that and Floyd enjoyed it. "How did he find my son?" Floyd slowly shook his head. "That ain't Jerome's style. Jerome has a certain reputation. His young men come to him. They understand what Jerome will do to them and they want it." Now the client was starting to understand, his face seemed to sag for a moment but only for a moment. Then the bluster was back. "If I could only get my hands on this scum, this Jerome..." Floyd conquered his strong desire to laugh. He maybe knew Jerome a little better than he was letting on. He surely knew this whitebread fuck wouldn't last two seconds against him. He also knew the client's words were as fake as the rest of him. Just meant to impress his wife maybe. She had stayed in the vehicle but put her window down despite the cold wind. She had been listening to every word. Floyd suspected her husband hadn't been able to watch that whole three-hour video but he knew that the boy's mother had watched it all. Maybe for the same reason Floyd had - because it was their duty and responsibility to do so. Maybe... In his many years of work Floyd had learned not to take such things for granted. Not that it mattered unduly to him. Jerome's pleasures were not his pleasures. Different strokes for different folks. So long as everyone was adult and consenting then Floyd had no problem with how people chose to be. He looked again at his client. If everyone thought that way then maybe things would have turned out different. However, they didn't and so things hadn't. Jerome crushed his cigarette under his shoe. What the fuck - it was all good for business. *** "How do I look?" BoiFagBarbie gave a delighted faggy squeal as he performed a slow pirouette showing off his outfit. The little slut looked hot as fuck and the little slut knew it. Jerome had been planning this night for a while but he felt the strong inclination to rip the clothes off the young fag, shove their head down onto the sofa and fuck that delicious little hole hard and fast. Make the little slut scream before breeding him. Jerome's cock was hard in his pants and he saw BoiFagBarbie sneak a look, saw the grin on the little faggot's face broaden as he spotted the bulge. It wasn't like the faggot would complain if Jerome just grabbed him and did his best to ruin that sweet little hole. He had rapidly learned that BoiFagBarbie didn't care so long as his hole got filled with cock and cum. When he got a little rough with him this faggot had that look in his eyes that you couldn't fake and that you couldn't mistake. The look of a boy who wanted to be broken, to be moulded for another man's pleasure. Jerome had seen it before. Generally in young men from the same sort of background as this one. "I have some friends who I think deserve some special entertainment. They know just exactly what they like." BoiFagBarbie grinned and his eyes opened wide. "A horny young faggot in a cute outfit like this." He moved his hands to indicate himself. Jerome nodded. "Just exactly like that." he let his deep dark eyes lock onto those of his little femboi fucktoy. "These men," said BoiFagBarbie, "are they young?" Jerome shook his head. "No, they are like me. They've been in the game a long time." "Are they good-looking?" Jerome considered. "Some still are maybe, some not so much. Like I said they've been in the game a long while." It was time for the only real question that mattered. "Are they Poz?" Jerome smiled. "Oh that you can rely on. They are all toxic as fuck. I want you to perform for them and then they are going to run a train on your sweet little hole. All captured on camera for a paying clientele. Sound good?" "Sounds great!" BoiFagBarbie's pretty eyes sparkled with anticipation. Jerome wished he already had the cameras going but in his gut he knew it didn't really matter. The cameras loved this little slut and anything he starred in would be in high demand. Not least because, in the business of Neg 4 Poz breeding scenes, a bottom's career didn't tend to last long. "Then what are you waiting for? Time to get moving." He gave his gruff smoker's laugh as the boy rushed to get his things together. There wasn't much cuter than a pretty little neg femboy rushing to meet his inevitable fate. ***

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