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Part 5 and the last chapter. Back home….Jake is waiting . The house was dark and silent. Jake sat in the club chair in the corner of their bedroom, a shadow in a room of shadows. It was midnight. The only light was the faint glow of the streetlamp filtering through the blinds, striping the floor. He'd been sitting there for hours, staring at the bedroom door, a glass of scotch sweating in his hand. He was wearing track pants and a tight black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his chest. The alcohol was a warm, familiar hum in his veins, but it couldn't drown out the storm in his head. He was so angry he felt like he could shatter, but underneath the rage was a love so profound it terrified him. He loved Chad so much it felt like a physical part of him, and the thought of what he'd done, what he'd lost, was a knife twisting in his gut. Outside, the car pulled up. Heavy, lingering kisses were pressed against Chad's lips, sone from Asha, dark and possessive, then one from Andrew, surprisingly gentle. They sent him off with a soft "Go on," and Chad stumbled up the stairs to the house he shared with Jake, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. The bedroom door squeaked open slowly. Chad pushed it into the dark room and dropped his luggage by the door. "Sorry," he blurted out, his voice cracking. "I love you." Jake remained silent, a statue in the corner. Chad could see his silhouette, the shape of him in the chair. He shrugged off his coat, then his sweater, letting them fall to the floor. The silence was deafening. Jake slowly set his glass down on the small table beside him. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick, choked with emotion. "I love you so much it hurts." As he said the words, he felt a confusing, traitorous heat bloom in his groin. His cock began to harden, pressing insistently against the soft fabric of his track pants. He wasn't wearing underwear. The mix of profound love and searing anger was a potent, painful aphrodisiac. "But I'm so mad at you," he said, his voice rising. "Don't come near me." He stood up, his shadow looming larger. "Take off all your clothes." Chad flinched at the shout, shocked by the sudden shift in tone. He hesitated for only a second before his trembling fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. "That's it, you slut," Jake snarled, his voice raw. "Get fucking naked." Chad's face burned with embarrassment as he quickly shed the rest of his clothes, standing naked and vulnerable in the center of the room. "Take off those cum-soaked underwear, too," Jake commanded, pointing at the briefs still pooled around Chad's ankles. Chad kicked them away. "Now turn around," Jake's voice was a low growl. "Get on all fours on the floor. Spread your ass cheeks. I want to see that hole." Humiliated, Chad did as he was told, sinking to his hands and knees and reaching back to pull himself open. A little bit of cum, a mixture of all three men, leaked out and trickled down his thigh. "Whose cum is that?" Jake's voice was dangerously quiet. "Asha's? Andrew's? Someone else's?" "Both," Chad whispered, his face pressed into the carpet. "Push it out, Chad. Let me see." Chad bore down, and more of the fluid leaked from his used hole. Jake's heart was pounding, his cock now fully, painfully hard. He walked over and stood over Chad. "I love you so much, Chad," he said, the words a tortured confession. He looked down and saw the obvious outline of his erection straining against his pants. He took a deep breath. "Lay flat on your stomach on the floor. Spread your legs." Chad complied, his body trembling. Jake pulled down his track pants, freeing his thick, uncut cock. He kicked his pants away and knelt, then lowered himself on top of Chad, his weight a familiar, comforting pressure. "I love you," Jake whispered into Chad's ear. "I love you, too," Chad sobbed into the carpet. "Really?" Jake asked, his voice breaking as he positioned his cock at Chad's entrance. "You really love me?" He pushed inside, the entry slow, gentle, a stark contrast to his earlier fury. He fucked Chad with a slow, hard rhythm, each thrust a question and an answer. "I love you, Chad," Jake repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you," Chad chanted back, his tears soaking into the rug. With a final, deep push, Jake came, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into his boyfriend. He didn't pull out. He stayed on Chad's back, his weight pinning him down, his arms wrapped around Chad's chest, holding him as if he might disappear. He held him for what seemed like forever, two broken pieces of a whole, clinging to each other in the dark. Jake's weight was a solid, grounding force on Chad's back. After an eternity, he slowly pushed himself up, his arms trembling slightly. He looked down at Chad, at the mess of tear-streaked face and sweat-soaked hair. "I can smell them on you," Jake said, his voice quiet but clear, devoid of its earlier anger. It was a statement of fact, not an accusation. "I'm mad because I love you. I'm so mad because I only want you for myself. I want you to move in. I love you." The words hung in the air, a raw, desperate plea. Before Chad could fully process them, Jake was getting up, his movements stiff. He walked into the bathroom without looking back, and the sound of the shower starting filled the silence. Chad pushed himself up from the floor, his body aching. He found his robe on the back of the door and wrapped it around himself, sinking down to sit on the carpet in the dark. He hugged his knees to his chest, his mind a whirlwind of guilt, relief, and a confusing, powerful love. When Jake finished, he walked out of the bedroom without a word. Chad listened to his footsteps on the stairs. He waited a few minutes, then got up and took his own quick shower, the hot water washing away the physical evidence of the night, but not the emotional turmoil. He put his robe back on, his cock already hardening again with a nervous, hopeful energy, and made his way downstairs. Jake was in the living room, standing by the fireplace. He had two glasses of red wine in his hands. He looked up as Chad entered, his expression unreadable in the soft light. Chad walked over, his heart pounding. He took one of the glasses from Jake's hand. "I love you," he said, his voice firm. "I want to stay here living with you" A slow, beautiful smile spread across Jake's face. It was the first genuine smile Chad had seen from him in what felt like a lifetime. He sat down on the couch, and Chad sat right beside him, wrapping his arms around Jake and kissing him gently. Jake's cock was hard, a solid ridge pressing against Chad's leg through their robes. The contact sent a jolt of desire through him. Jake set both glasses on the coffee table, the crystal clinking softly. He turned back to Chad, and they were kissing again, this time with a desperate, passionate intensity. It went on for several minutes, a silent conversation of forgiveness and longing. Jake's hands began to roam, his touch growing more insistent. "I love you so much," Jake murmured against Chad's lips. He shifted, lying back on the couch, pulling Chad with him. Chad climbed on top, his knees on either side of Jake's hips. They could feel their hard cocks pressing together through the thick terry cloth of their robes. The friction was maddening. Chad struggled to find a comfortable position, his body awkward with need. With a frustrated sigh, he sat up and pulled off his robe, letting it fall to the floor. Jake was lying flat, his own robe still tied. He watched Chad, his eyes dark with desire. He reached down and undid the belt, parting the soft fabric to reveal his body. His chest was defined, with a light sprinkling of dark hair that tapered down to his flat stomach. His 7-inch uncut cock lay hard against his belly, the foreskin partially retracted. He was smiling, a soft, inviting smile. Chad laid back down on Jake's body, their skin touching for the first time that night. They kissed, a slow, deep, exploring kiss. "I want you to fuck me," Jake whispered, his voice thick with emotion. A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye, tracing a path through the hair at his temple. Excitement surged through Chad. He'd never fucked Jake before. He'd never even considered it. He lifted one of Jake's legs, draping it over his waist. He started by frotting, sliding his own hard cock against Jake's, the slick friction sending shivers through both of them. Then he spat into his hand, rubbing the saliva onto his fingers. He gently probed Jake's hole, his touch careful and reverent. He spat again, this time into his palm, and mixed it with the precum leaking from his own cock, coating his shaft. They stared at each other, their breathing heavy. Chad wanted to plow him, to take him with the same desperate force he'd felt all night, but he held back. He loved this man too much. He positioned himself and gently pushed in, entering him missionary style. The feeling was incredible. Jake was tight, hot, and he gasped as Chad filled him. Chad started to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm. It wasn't rough; it was deep and intimate, a connection that went beyond the physical. "I love you, Chad," Jake breathed, his hands gripping Chad's arms. "I love you, too," Chad replied, his voice thick with emotion. The words, the connection, the feeling of being inside the man he loved—it was all too much. Chad felt his orgasm building, and he could tell Jake was close, too. With a final, deep thrust, Chad came, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into Jake. The feeling of Chad's pulsing release sent Jake over the edge, and he came as well, his own cum spattering between their chests. Chad collapsed on top of Jake, his body spent. He stayed inside him until he softened and finally plopped out. They didn't move. They lay there, holding each other in a tangle of limbs, their bodies slick with sweat and Jake's cum between them, and fell asleep just like that, exhausted and finally, completely, together. THE END

I'm a fucking faggot daddy. Love being bent over and used anywhere by hard cocks. Got group fucked yesterday I'm horny as hell for more dick and cum in my pussy. Love it in public, love guys watching, have been pimped out a couple times and it was fucking amazing. Total sex pig addict.

Happy birthday!

Has anyone else noticed that gayforit restricted viewing all your favorites unless you’re a paying member?

Chapter 31: Slipping the Leash Clearview University Medical. Steighn wing, high security ER ward. 00:07 MST. 1-Nov-20XX. REDACTED location. By the time Elias and Trevor made it back, the room already felt too small for what they were about to attempt. Tex stood near the foot of the bed, arms folded, eyes locked on Zero. The man lay restrained but restless, his body caught somewhere between stillness and tension, like something beneath the surface was waiting for permission to move again. The overhead lights cast a harsh sheen across his altered skin—darkened, almost grey in places, veins faintly visible beneath the surface like shadows trying to break through. The door opened quickly behind him. Tex turned. Elias stepped in first, coat half-buttoned, expression sharp and focused. Trevor followed close behind, already moving toward the counter with a small insulated container in hand. “We got it,” Trevor said, setting the container down and immediately opening it. His movements were precise, controlled—clinical in a way that felt almost reassuring given everything else going on. Tex exhaled quietly. “Good,” he said. Then, lowering his voice slightly as Elias stepped closer, “We’ve got another problem.” Elias’s eyes flicked to him. “Krell’s here.” A brief pause. Tex continued, voice tight but controlled. “He’s already in the ER. Tried to throw his weight around. I stalled him, but…” He shook his head slightly. “I think he clocked something. Not fully, but enough to start asking questions.” Elias didn’t react immediately. His attention shifted past Tex, landing on Zero. “We’ll deal with Krell when we have to,” Elias said quietly. “Right now, this comes first.” Tex watched him for a second, then nodded once. Trevor had already drawn a syringe, carefully pulling a measured dose from one of the labeled vials. Even now, in the middle of everything unraveling, he handled the process with practiced precision—checking the label, confirming the concentration, expelling a small bubble of air from the needle. “If Grant was right,” Trevor said, almost to himself, “this should interrupt the replication pathway…” Tex leaned slightly closer, watching Zero’s chest rise and fall. “Or it does nothing,” he said. Trevor didn’t look up. “We’re about to find out.” Elias stepped to the side of the bed, one hand resting lightly on the railing. “Do it.” Trevor nodded once and moved in. The needle slid into Zero’s arm cleanly, the motion quick and controlled. Trevor depressed the plunger steadily, delivering the dose in one smooth push before withdrawing the syringe. For a moment, nothing happened. The room held its breath. Then Zero’s body jerked. Not violently—just enough to make all three of them tense. His chest hitched, breath catching unevenly as his muscles tightened beneath the restraints. A low, strained sound slipped from his throat, somewhere between a groan and something less human. Tex straightened. “Okay—there it is.” Elias leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing as he watched. Zero’s skin shifted. At first it was subtle—so subtle Tex almost thought he imagined it. The unnatural grey tone began to soften, faint traces of natural color pushing through like something breaking the surface after being buried too long. The veins along his neck, once dark and pronounced, began to fade. Not disappear, but recede. Trevor stepped closer, eyes locked on the changes. “Look at that…” he murmured. Zero’s head rolled slightly to one side, his breathing still uneven but no longer as strained. His eyelids fluttered. Then slowly— His eyes opened. For a split second, they were still wrong. Too dark. Too deep. Then the black receded. Not all at once, but enough. Color returned. Real color. Tex felt something shift in his chest. “…It’s working.” No one else spoke for a moment. They just watched. Zero blinked slowly, unfocused at first, his gaze drifting across the room without recognition. But the tension in his body had changed. The rigid, unnatural stillness was gone, replaced by something closer to exhaustion than control. Trevor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “It’s not a full reversal,” he said, already analyzing. “But it’s doing something. It’s interrupting the process.” Elias nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on Zero. “That’s enough.” Tex ran a hand through his hair, adrenaline starting to settle into something sharper. “If this works on him,” Tex said, “it might work on the others.” Elias turned slightly. “Then we don’t wait.” Trevor was already moving, setting the used syringe aside and reaching for the remaining vials. “Gravestone?” he said. Tex’s expression tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Let’s hope we’re not too late.” — They moved fast. The moment they stepped out of Zero’s room, Elias felt the shift—the brief, fragile hope giving way to something sharper. Urgency. What they had just seen was enough to act on, but not enough to trust. Trevor kept pace beside him, already talking through the next step. “If the response holds, even partially, with the timeline you gave me, Gravestone should hopefully still be in a transitional phase,” Trevor said. “That’s where we have the best chance to interrupt—” They reached the room. Trevor pushed the door open. Elias stepped in behind him—and stopped. The bed was gone. Not empty. Gone. The space where it had been sat bare beneath the fluorescent lights, faint scuff marks tracing where the wheels had once locked into place. A monitor had been shoved aside, its leads trailing uselessly across the tile, emitting a soft, intermittent beep as it searched for a patient that was no longer there. Elias didn’t move for a second. Then his mind caught up. No damage. No signs of a struggle. This wasn’t a breach. Someone had moved him. Trevor stepped forward, scanning the room, disbelief flickering across his face. “…Oh fuck,” he muttered. Footsteps approached behind them. Elias turned as a nurse appeared in the doorway, her expression tightening as she took in the scene. “Doctor Kade—” “Where is he?” Trevor asked immediately. The nurse blinked. “The patient?” Elias stepped forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “Where did you take him?” The nurse hesitated, then answered quickly. “Radiology. They said the portable machine wasn’t strong enough. Something about needing a larger machine because of his size—” Elias felt the weight of that settle instantly. Radiology. Trevor’s tone sharpened. “Who approved that?” “I—I don’t know,” the nurse said. “They just said it was necessary—” “Where is it?” Elias asked. Trevor turned to Elias immediately, already thinking ahead. “Radiology’s one floor down,” he said quickly. “Take the main stairwell—its faster than the elevators. You’ll hit imaging first, he’s probably in one of the rooms down the main hall on the left.” Elias nodded once. Behind him, Trevor was already stepping back. “I’ll find Tex,” Trevor added. “He needs to know what happened—” “Do it,” Elias said. He didn’t wait. The hallway narrowed around him as he moved. Not quite running—but close enough that people stepped out of his way without being asked. The background noise of the ER faded behind him as his focus locked forward. They had moved Gravestone. Put him somewhere isolated. Unprepared. Elias pushed through the stairwell door and started down, taking the steps two at a time. Radiology meant closed rooms. Minimal staff. No containment. His jaw tightened slightly. If the cure worked, there was still a chance. If it didn’t— Elias picked up speed. Because either way, he needed to get there first. Before Gravestone got loose. — The light came first. Too bright. Too sharp. It pressed against his eyelids, dragging him upward through a heavy, fractured fog. For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t think. Just existed in that slow, suspended space where nothing quite made sense. Then the sound reached him. A low mechanical hum. The steady whir of imaging equipment cycling nearby. Voices—faint, muffled, just beyond the room. Hospital. That realization surfaced slowly. And with it— Weight. Gravestone’s awareness sharpened just enough for him to register the pressure across his body. Tight. Restrictive. Not just straps—something more rigid beneath him. His back pressed flat against a hard board, his shoulders pinned in place, his arms secured at his sides. His eyes opened. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—smooth panels, harsh overhead lighting. Radiology. The pieces didn’t fall neatly into place, but they didn’t need to. The environment was wrong. More wrong than the restraints. He shifted. Or tried to. The straps held firm, biting slightly as tension ran through his muscles. A flicker of irritation surfaced—quick, instinctive. Then something else moved beneath it. Not a thought. A presence. It didn’t speak in words. It didn’t need to. It simply arrived. Cold. Certain. Absolute. Get up, Nathan. Gravestone’s breath hitched slightly. The fog in his mind didn’t clear—it fractured. Fragments of memory slammed into place out of order. Faces. Orders. The last mission. The moment everything had gone wrong— and beneath all of it, something new. A network. He could feel it now. Other minds. Distant but connected. Moving. Thinking. And above them all—Him. The Alpha. The command pressed down again, heavier this time. Move. Gravestone’s fingers flexed against the restraints. The material creaked. “Careful—careful—don’t shift him yet.” The voice came from somewhere to his left. Gravestone turned his head slightly. A male radiology tech stood beside the bed, leaning over him, one hand braced against the edge of the hard board beneath him. Another tech, female, lingered near the doorway, uncertain. “We need that board centered for the next image,” the first tech continued, clearly focused on the task in front of him. “He’s too big for the portable—this is the only way we get a clear image.” Gravestone watched him. The man didn’t notice. “Hey,” the tech called over his shoulder, voice tightening slightly, “can you go grab someone from the ER? I don’t like how he’s waking up.” The second tech hesitated. “And page security,” the first added quickly. “Just in case.” Footsteps retreated from the doorway. The room quieted again. Gravestone’s attention returned to the man leaning over him. He could hear his heartbeat. Fast. Nervous. Ripe for infection. The Alpha’s presence pressed in again. Stronger now. Closer. We don’t have the time. Get up. Gravestone’s muscles responded. The strap across his chest tightened as his body shifted against it. The board beneath him scraped slightly as his shoulders lifted a fraction of an inch before the restraints forced him back down. The tech froze. “…Sir?” he said carefully, hands still braced on the board. “You need to stay still. We’re just trying to take pictures to see what bones are broken.” Gravestone didn’t respond. He tested the restraints again. Not with panic, but with intent. The material strained this time, the faint sound of stitching pulling under pressure. The tech stepped back half a pace. “Okay,” he said, voice and tone rising just slightly. “Yeah, no—don’t do that.” Gravestone turned his head toward him fully now. Their eyes met. For a moment, the room went still. The tech swallowed. “You’re okay,” he said quickly, more to himself than to Gravestone. “We just need to—” The command hit again. Harder. Move. Gravestone’s entire body tensed. The strap across his right arm snapped first with a sharp crack, the force sudden and decisive. The board beneath him shifted as his shoulder lifted, the restraint tearing free from its anchor point. The tech flinched back. “Oh—shit—” The second strap followed. Then another. The sound of tearing material filled the room as Gravestone forced himself upright against the board, the remaining restraints groaning under the pressure. The tech stumbled backward, hitting the counter behind him. “Security!” he shouted, voice breaking now. “I need security in here—now—” Gravestone sat up fully. The board shifted with him, sliding slightly as the last of the restraints gave way. For a brief moment, he simply sat there. Still. Centered. The fog in his mind was gone now. Replaced with clarity. Purpose. The Alpha’s presence settled over him like a shadow. And beneath it— That image again. The next target. Gravestone stood and the tech tried to move. Too slow. Gravestone’s hand shot out, catching him by the front of his shirt and slamming him back against the counter hard enough to rattle the equipment behind him. The man gasped, breath knocked out of him. Gravestone leaned in slightly, studying him for a second. Almost curious. Then his attention shifted past him—toward the door. Toward the hallway beyond. Leave that one there and return to me. Gravestone smiled faintly. “Yeah, yeah…” he murmured. “I’m on it.” Gravestone took a deep breath in, and in one fluid motion, spit a large glob of slime into the man’s face. He kicked and tried to scream for a few moments, until the tech sagged as Gravestone released him, sliding down against the counter. Gravestone looked back. “Pity,” he growled out. “Would have been a fun one to fuck.” He stepped over the edge of the board as it slid off the bed behind him and moved for the door. Out into the hallway. And toward his target. — The hallway opened up in front of him, long and sterile under fluorescent light. Gravestone moved through it without hesitation. People noticed—but too late. A nurse glanced up from a chart, confusion flickering across her face as he passed. A patient being wheeled past turned their head, eyes widening. Someone called out behind him—uncertain, questioning—but no one moved fast enough to stop him. He didn’t run. He didn’t need to. Every step was deliberate. Grounded. Controlled. The Alpha’s presence sat at the center of his thoughts now, steady and unrelenting. Not overwhelming—but guiding. A pressure at the back of his mind, shaping direction, reinforcing purpose. The image remained clear. Somewhere ahead. Gravestone turned a corner. And stopped. Krell had just stepped back into the corridor when he saw him. For a split second, his brain didn’t process what he was looking at. A man—no, something that had once been a man—standing in the middle of the hallway. Barefoot. Unrestrained. Shoulders squared like he owned the space he stood in. Recognition hit a moment later. “What in the…Briggs?” The name came out automatically. Then everything else followed. The posture. The size. The face. Wrong. All of it – wrong. Krell seemed to shudder as if he felt something unfamiliar crawl up the back of his spine. “How the hell are you here—” he started, stepping forward, instinct overriding caution. Gravestone tilted his head slightly. The movement wasn’t confused. It was… assessing. Then he smiled. Not the easy, controlled expression Krell likely remembered from briefings and command rooms. Something sharper. Something that didn’t belong. Krell stopped. The hallway seemed to narrow around them. “…What is this?” Krell asked, his voice tightening despite himself. “What are you doing here?” Gravestone took a step forward. Slow. Measured. “Oh, come on now… you don’t recognize your own work?” he asked, voice lower now, carrying a strange edge that hadn’t been there before. “Although, I must admit, the way you limited the growth with poor Zero definitely pales in comparison to letting the virus replicate naturally." Krell’s jaw tightened. “This… the virus wasn’t supposed to do this,” he said. “Stand down, soldier.” Gravestone laughed. The sound echoed slightly in the empty corridor, wrong in a way that made the space feel colder. “Stand down?” he repeated. “You think you still get to give orders? We all got to feel what you put Mason through. Took all the pleasure out of it. Perhaps it was time you got a taste of your own… medicine.” Another step. Closer now. Krell didn’t move. Didn’t step back. Didn’t yield. “Whatever this is,” Krell said, forcing control back into his voice, “you are still under my command—” Gravestone closed the distance in a blur. One second there was space between them. The next— Krell was off the ground. Gravestone’s hand closed around his throat, lifting him effortlessly until his feet left the floor. Krell’s back hit the wall behind him with a dull, jarring impact, the breath forced out of his lungs in a sharp gasp. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. His hands came up instinctively, gripping at Gravestone’s wrist, trying to pry it loose. It didn’t budge. Gravestone leaned in slightly, his expression shifting into something almost amused. “You think you’re in any position to give orders anymore? You used us,” he said quietly. “Turned us into test subjects. Guinea pigs. Sent us in blind and called it strategy.” Krell forced air back into his lungs in short, shallow bursts, his vision beginning to blur at the edges. “That was—protocol—” he managed, voice strained. Gravestone’s grip tightened. “Sure,” he said. “Definitely didn’t leave us out of the loop so you could see how your new toy worked in the field. And now look at us.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes locking onto Krell’s. “We’re the ones at the top now.” Krell’s face darkened, the pressure cutting off his airway, his hands still useless against the iron grip at his throat. “You thought you were building soldiers,” Gravestone continued, voice calm—too calm. “Turns out you built something far better. We are gods without a leash.” Krell’s vision flickered. Likely for the first time that night— He looked afraid. — “Put him down.” The voice cut through the moment. Gravestone’s head turned slightly. Elias stood at the far end of the corridor, shoulders squared, eyes locked onto him. He had arrived just in time. Or far too late. Gravestone smiled. “Reaper,” he said, almost pleased. “Perfect timing. I was just meaning to speak to you about some things.” Elias didn’t move closer. Didn’t reach for a weapon. His gaze flicked briefly to Krell—face darkening, body going slack—then back to Gravestone. “Put him down,” Elias repeated, firmer this time. Gravestone looked back at Krell for a moment, as if considering it. Then he gave a soft, almost thoughtful hum. “This one?” he said. “This is the one you should be thanking for creating all of us.” He lifted Krell slightly higher for emphasis. “He’s the reason all of this happened,” Gravestone continued. “The reason we got turned into this. Don’t think I can’t smell his gift growing in you too, Elias. I can feel how much you’re fighting against him. Would be much better if you just gave in and joined us.” Keep him distracted, Gravestone. I almost have what I need. Gravestone’s smile sharpened as he watched Elias, head tilting slightly like he was studying something beneath the surface. “You feel it too, don’t you?” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “That pull. That itch you can’t quite scratch.” He took a slow step closer, eyes locked on Elias like he was peeling him apart layer by layer. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it at the gym. The moment it happened—how good it felt. Not just in your head… in your bones. Like something finally clicked into place.” His grin widened, cruel and knowing. “That wasn’t me, Reaper. That wasn’t the Alpha. That was all you.” He circled slightly, not breaking eye contact. “And it’s still there, isn’t it? Sitting right behind your thoughts. Every person you look at, every heartbeat you hear—it’s whispering. Telling you how easy it would be.” His voice dropped further, almost intimate now. “How right it would feel to just let go for a second… to stop fighting it and give in.” He paused, watching for the smallest reaction. “You didn’t hate it,” he added softly. “That’s the part that scares you. You liked it.” Krell’s hands slipped slightly against Gravestone’s wrist, his strength failing. Gravestone’s smile widened. Elias didn’t move, but the words lodged deeper than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just noise—wasn’t just Gravestone trying to get under his skin. There had been something at the gym. A moment. A flicker of… not satisfaction, no—he refused to call it that—but something dangerously close. His jaw tightened as he forced the thought down, hard, like crushing glass underfoot. That wasn’t me. It couldn’t be. He knew exactly what this was—an infection, a manipulation, a chemical lie dressed up as instinct. But even as he told himself that, he could feel it—faint, persistent—like an echo that didn’t belong to him, brushing against his thoughts, nudging, suggesting. Elias focused on his breathing, on the weight of the syringe still hidden at his side, on anything real, anything his. He would not let something else decide what he was. Not now. Not ever. “Hmmm… keep telling yourself you're the good guy here, Reaper. I can hear your mind scrambling to fight it. Meanwhile, I think I’ll keep him,” he said lightly. “Break him down. See what’s left when he finally stops fighting.” His tone shifted—even darker now as his attention briefly turned to Krell. “Maybe I’ll make him… useful. I could use a bootlicking footrest when I kick back with a cigar. Would you like that, Krell? Get a taste of your own medicine?” Elias’s stance didn’t change. But something in his expression hardened. “Commander Briggs... Put him down,” Elias said again. This time, his hand moved slightly behind his back. Gravestone noticed the syringe. His eyes flicked down, then back up. And he laughed. “Seriously? A little prick from a prick like you? What are you planning on doing with it? You gonna fix me? Neuter me like a dog?” he asked, turning his head to the side, his mocking tone turning cold and bitter. “Is that what that is?” Elias didn’t answer. Gravestone leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Just know… If you’re not with us,” he said, “you’re against us. And after that little stunt your cocky boyfriend pulled with the ambulance? I’m playing dirty now, too.” The words landed heavy in the space between them. Then— He moved. Krell’s body was suddenly airborne as Gravestone released him and threw him forward. Elias reacted instantly, stepping in and catching him before he hit the ground, the impact still driving him back a step as he absorbed the weight. By the time Elias looked up, Gravestone was already gone and moving fast, quickly disappearing down the corridor. Still following the Alpha’s command faintly echoing in his ears. Return to me. I have what I need now.

Oh my... I had wondered if Bull might be later in the chain, but first wrecking and seeding done... no looking back, not need to think in regret! And I am so pleased to see Ash making his move, or leaving his mark... who knows, but another great chapter @thescribe730 - thank you :)

yesterday around lunchtime. Arranged a gangbang for my birthday. 5 cocks took turns pounding my hungry pussy. Got 6 loads in there and a 7th in my mouth. Got DP'd and they filmed me being a total cumwhore. FUCK it was so hot. And woke up this morning horny as fuck.

I miss the gloryholes at almost every univerisity or College. There always at least one bathroom know for cruising and it had a gloryhole. But sudenly they all disappeared from the universities and moved to the saunas. Saunas never had gloryholes because they had to pretend being about "health" or gym, and gloryholes would have been hard to justify. The first sauna that had gloryholes was in Montreal, Rue Rachel. The darker room in the back had 3 cubicles with GH between them and became popular right away. Because of the gloryholes I started to go there often. Until GHs started to appear in almost every sauna.

Chapter 20 - Revelation "On your back on the bench faggot." Bull's tone was commanding and BoiFagBarbie rushed to obey. The men had left a space around the bench in the middle of the large room. A room that already seemed super-heated from the presence of so many men. There really were a lot of men. He couldn't count them but if his owner said there were thirty then he knew there were thirty. Just as he knew that there was no pretence or subterfuge now. The other men had been Poz but these men were Poz and toxic. Unmedicated, detectable, their bodies primed with high viral loads. He remembered reading those profiles on the forum. 'Poz' was one thing, 'Poz, not on meds' was what he craved, what really excited him. Well he had that now - he had it all around him. Excited eyes, determined mouths, stiffening cocks - all there for him. Only he and Ash looked to be below forty years of age but that didn't matter. These men were mature, experienced in breaking in new boi pussies and giving them what they needed and deserved. They were just who BoiFagBarbie needed. Why settle for one poz daddy with a hard cock when you could have two - or ten - or thirty! Thirty was so many men. He could sense their heat on his delicate skin, smell their musk, their pheromones, their sweat. Heard the sound of clothes being removed, saw hands gently stroking cocks, sometimes the owners and sometimes not. Here and there a man dropped to his knees and began sucking the man next to him. BoiFagBarbie saw it all and felt no anxiety or jealousy. The men were preparing themselves to enjoy his hole and he knew that. He was the star of the show, the little bratty princess, the dumb slutty cum-pig whore. In the end it would all come to him. All of their experience, all of their power, all of their potent toxic cum. It all belonged to him tonight and he would be getting it - whether he still wanted it or not. The thought sent a chill of ice water through his veins, veins whose blood would soon be tainted and corrupted for these men's pleasure. Were they sadists or did they just not care about anything but dropping their toxic loads in a neg hole? None of that seemed to matter as Bull grasped BoiFagBarbie's legs and pulled him to the edge of the bench. The man was strong, a Bull indeed, manoeuvring the younger man like a ragdoll. He picked up those pale, coltish, legs and put them up to his shoulders as he stepped forward. The contrast with his tanned hairy chest was as blatant as it was arousing. "You want this fucking cock faggot?" Bull was almost growling as his cock head pushed up against the tight fresh hole of the dumb little bitch. "Yes sir - please fuck me." "Once a toxic cock is in you it don't stop till it seeds you. No condoms, no meds, no pulling out. So you want this toxic cock faggot?" It was so crude, so obvious, so blatant. So dangerous and so - not risky, risky wasn't the word. His mind was lost in a fog of conflicting emotions and though he knew what he should answer his mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert. "Who gives a fuck what you want anyway." Bull smiled and pushed forward. His now lubed cock was perfectly lined up to the hole and Ash had done the prep work well. The little faggot squealed like a stuck pig but his hole was warm and tight and welcoming and wasn't that the only thing that mattered? BoiFagBarbie felt that increasingly familiar almost burning feeling as his hole stretched to admit and then accommodate Bull. Fuck but this man was so big! BoiFagBarbie tried to say something but it just came out as a squeal. A squeal that became a moan as the biggest cock of his life so far remorselessly claimed him. He felt so full, that was obvious, but it was more than that. As others had fucked him there had been moments of intense pleasure - moments when they were pressing his 'fag button' as they called it. Jeering as they saw him react and crave more. Now this big cock seemed to be constantly stimulating him, massaging him, leaving him no respite from a pleasure so intense it could only be dangerous. So intense that from this day forward it could never be denied. The cock in him stopped moving for a moment and his eyes popped open. He hadn't even realised he had shut them. In those intense moments he had only been aware of the sensations coming from his hole. Now his vision was back and his hearing too, the obscene insults and threats from the men heard but unimportant to him. All that mattered was that beautiful cock, the way it made him feel, the way it had become the whole center of the world for him. Bull looked into the dumb faggot's eyes. They were pretty eyes but that wasn't the point. That wasn't why he looked so intently, why he was careful to notice every reaction of the little slut to his own movements. Bull knew his business. He adjusted his technique to maximize the pleasure of the cute little piece of ass he was currently plundering. He made it real good for the boy but that wasn't why he did it. How this boi cunt - whose name he had already forgotten - felt about it only really mattered for one reason. When the Bull did his job right he could take a young fag to places they had never imagined, had never even dreamed of. He had the experience, he had the equipment - he had the motivation. Take a little fag like this to those places and the whole rest of their life they were desperate to get back there. They'd chase that next hit like a crack ho. Take any cock because it might be the one. They'd get to the point where they lived only for that next hard cock, that next load of seed. They'd become just who Bull wanted them to be and that was why he did it. "Keep looking at me," growled the Bull, "I like to look into the eyes of a dumb neg bitch when I knock him up." There was that additional pleasure of course - but that would be a little while yet. Just now the Bull had to lay down some pipe, stretch and bruise that sweet little hole a little. He picked up some pace and gave the boi pussy another couple of inches. He watched the boi's eyes and saw them flinch a little but keep determinedly fixed on his own. He liked that and he put a little more power into each stroke. Heard the boy gasping and even felt his hole clenching a little, trying to milk his seed. All in good time - he wasn't half done yet. He kept going until he bottomed out, as he knew he would, the boy was almost petite and Bull was anything but. BoiFagBarbie had held his eye contact with Bull from the moment the incredible fuck had started,. Before had been amazing but this was just sooooooooooooo good!!! This was how it was meant to be, this was what his whole life had really been building up towards, this was what he had dreamed about so many times. Finding a man like this, a man who could do this to him. The moments of pain were so worth it, were so much a part of it. Part of giving himself - part of his sacrifice. Besides they faded and just left the amazing pleasure, the amazing high and he rode that high like a motherfucker, fought to keep his eyes locked on the eyes of the man who could do this to him, could make him feel like this. Then - it happened. The big cock inside him hit something and it hurt, it hurt bad! It might be ripping him up inside! He howled in pain. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - STOPPPPP - PLLLLEEEEEASSSE - STOPPPPP." All he heard were the shouts and cheers of the men surrounding them, all he saw were the eyes of the Bull. All he felt was that big cock withdrawn and then pushing forward - again, again and again. It was too much - he couldn't take any more. And then... Then, it happened. Something seemed to give, deep inside his body, seemed to 'pop'. Bull's big cock pushed on to claim new virgin parts of his body and mind. BoiFagBarbie put his head back and howled again but this time not in protest but in pure pleasure and amazement. How could something feel so fucking good!!! Again he heard and saw nothing, knew nothing except the feelings from his boi pussy. His whole body quivered, his legs against the Bull's broad shoulders, his arms held in position by two other men. His little cock spasmed inside its cage and shot cum over his flat stomach. All just symptoms of the wave of sensation and pleasure that had peaked and crested within his mind, body and soul. He gasped again and finally opened his eyes. That was the moment the Bull had been waiting for. Seeing those pretty eyes open all full of wonder and amazement and joy. That was the moment he needed. A couple of hard thrusts and then he was sending powerful pulses of his toxic seed as deep in the little whore as he could plant it. So deep so that it wouldn't ever come out, would always be a part of him. Bull smiled in satisfaction as the look in the young man's eyes changed. The slut had discovered the rewards of the life he had chosen and now he also knew the price he had to pay. Sperm and virus planted deep in their millions and it would only take one. Boi fags were like girls that way - you didn't get 'a little pregnant' and it surely did change your life. Bull knew that from personal experience, every man there knew that from personal experience. Only one person there did not, BoiFagBarbie. Well, Bull was pretty sure that would soon be changing. The big man puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. It had been a job well done and he was almost reluctant to withdraw his cock from that fine hole. However, there were others waiting. BoiFagBarbie saw Bull withdraw and felt regret. He wished he could hold this man close - the man who might just have pozzed him. However, that wasn't going to happen. As Bull withdrew another man took his place. A much smaller, younger, man - whose much smaller cock looked painfully hard. Inexperience made entry a bit of a fumble but soon the cock was home and then the young man set up a furiously fast, frantic, rhythmn. In the back of his mind BoiFagBarbie understood that this was Ash. The young newly converted and highly toxic man had made his decision. Being a top may never have interested Ash before but now things were different. Now he had a meaningful contribution to make, a real target to accomplish. Jerome looked on and nodded his approval. Ash had that youthful, healthy, harmless look that always went down real well with the explorers and the experimenters. The married men sneaking out for some cock. The newbies just getting started. Most of those sorts would run a mile from men like himself, Wolf or the Bull. Run and NEVER look back. Sweet little Ash there would have them desperate to bend over a bench or against a tree or in some club back-room. Not even thinking about a condom until they felt his seed shot up in their guts. Yeah - Ash was a valuable addition to the brotherhood. The night was going well and it had only just begun. ***

Wow that guy’s lucky. Mind sharing the details and how did u manage to suck him that long?

Thanks for your words of encouragement! And I agree, if I could get fisted everyday I would too.

even better when the boyfriend arranges the whole thing.

Love this one: [think before following links] https://thisvid.com/videos/next-level-condom/

Ah, Dan has really been doing some research understanding about brushing and that ultimately a blood injection might be required, but great to see that Dan is actively owning his drive to get pregnant. The question is, did Dan tell Rick about the Professor trying to fuck him and his desires in the future to be an open hole for use?

Followed. 2BostonGrads

2BostonGrads

Steamworks Berkeley. Always good raw pussy there. That was my first bathhouse and I loved it. I've also been to Steamworks Montreal & Vancouver, both good. And Steamworks Seattle (sucks). Seattle doesn't have any hot tub or social area. You don't realize how important the social areas like the hot tub, sauna and steamroom are until you go to a bathhouse without one. I've also been to the sleazy one in San Diego (can't remember the name) and Club Z in Seattle. At least Club Z has a sauna and steamroom. It's nice to be able to hang out in between fucks. I love love love Steamworks Berkeley. I hate Steamworks Seattle but it's my closest "Steamworks" I have a current membership to Club Z in Seattle. I have no plans to go back to Seattle Steamworks anytime soon.

hope u get stealth