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Please note! It's just a fantasy. All figures have reached the minimum age. Please be lenient, as I wrote the story in German and translated it afterwards. And my english is not the best…. Part 1 The eyes of all the girls and boys he crossed paths to hang on Jamal. But that was no wonder, the twenty-year-old Turk offered all sorts of things to look at. His dark hair fell wildly ruffled left and right from his head along the forehead down, on the side to just half over the ears. Some strands of hair hung from the side wavy in the direction of the eyes, as if modeled with wax. His green-blue eyes surrounded by a dark line of eyelashes, as if painted by a thin eyeliner, rounded off his eyes and revealed silent secrets of the Orient. Through both ear lobes he had a metal tunnel piercing with a black inside. Also at the bottom of the mouth he had left and right a piercing ring strapped vertically around the lips, parallel each down the end of the nose wing. Which made his lower lip even more voluminous and looked like the beginning of curved tracks leading into his mouth. His face was of a delicacy and flawlessness like the masterpiece of all boys. But it was nothing special for himself and his family, he just looked like that. He was big, very big. with his height of 1.90 meters and thin but muscular figure he made an impression. He could also be more than satisfied with his genitals of 21x4.5 centimeters. Everyone blamed his appearance for not having a girlfriend yet. He has already rejected many. He's probably waiting for one that's equal to him, they thought. But he knew that something completely different was the reason, because he didn't care, but nothing at all, about the female sex. One evening after he had already fallen asleep in the early afternoon and was bored, he decided to go to the local hammam and let himself be pampered. It was a very modern and yet traditional hammam in various warm gray marble shades. A large dome roof and a heavy door as entrance to the hammam. Away from this was a long tunnel with various open small dome rooms with resting blocks and a crossbar in the cross on one side with a kind of kitchen room and on the other side an oriental carpet room for the consumption of tea and hookah. So he rang the bell at the decorated old wooden door and a short time later two young male eyes peeked out of a recessed peepout door. He was admitted and the old wooden staircase was led up to his personal room. The personal wooden rooms were distributed in a circle over the entrance hall. Everything on this floor was made of old heavy wood and made a powerful impression. In his room he was allowed to take off his street clothes and there was a large, red and white tiled pestemal ready, which he immediately tied around his loins. The Arab-looking young Tellak had casually explained to him on the way from below that he was personally available for him tonight and pointed out to him the possibilities here. Now he studied in his kapause once again the different possibilities written on the wall on parlment and decided on the total offer with shisha, tea and hammam massage as well as all extras. Five minutes later, the Arab picked him up and asked if he had decided. He led him down the stairs to the shower room, which formed the entrance to the wet area, soaped his guest and washed off the sweat and dust of the day with a sponge. Then he led his guest through the long corridor into the steam room Hararet. Here several silver water outlets are bed with hot and cold water and in the middle a large heated fog stone, a Göbek Tas, which serves as a lying surface. He led him to the large stone sink, sat him there and scooped warm water with the ready Tas and poured it over Jamal's young hot body several times. He made him lie down on the fog stone and told him to relax, he would pick him up again. Jamal closed his eyes and his thoughts circled around this Arab Tellak. He looked good, very good. Many traits on the body of the Tellak reminded him of himself. Except that this one built much stronger and had big strong hands. He wondered what he would look like naked. If only I had seen him in white light cotton pants and a thin long shirt. However, the imprint of the Arab's tail through this fabric part did not leave his head. How he would like to touch it, maybe even take it in his mouth once and gently pamper the part. At 50 degrees and 65% humidity, his sweat glands were slowly set in motion. The pores opened and with the sweat slag and toxins penetrated from his body. At the same time, his body was loosened by the heat and the blood penetrated more and more into its best part. Due to the strong relaxation, he was almost in a trance. He didn't even notice how the Tellak came back and gently and slowly brushed his paw over the best part of Jamal. The Tellak again scooped up several ladles of warm water and slowly poured it up along the feet to his body. The boy slowly woke up again and looked shocked with a raised expression in his eyes at the Tellak, who asked him if he could have relaxed a bit. He said yes and hoped that the masseur did not see his extreme erection between his legs. The Tellak asked Jamal to come up slowly with a grin on his face when he had said that and a mischievous look at his room. He took off his pestemal and gave him a new dry one. He turned around to put his legs on his former berth and dry his legs. He didn't see the looks that the Tellak gave his plump hairless ass. When he was dry, he was led through the heavy door on the way back into the long corridor, to the front of the carpet room. Only now did the young Turk realize that in the meantime there was no one left in the whole walls except him and the Tellak. He was placed in a place in front of a shisha where already on a tealight a jug of freshly brewed tea, of which the young Arab gave him some of it in his tea glass in a cheerful and lively way. He got stuck just before him and went through a small stone inlet into a back room. Shortly after, he came forward with fresh glowing coals and set the water whistle in motion. He gave Jamal the mouthpiece in his hand and disappeared again. This caught the first puffs and leaned back relaxing. He had never felt so relaxed as he did right now. His body seemed to have separated from his mind and he was somehow absolutely beside himself. He had once heard that you have a strange feeling when you sweat too much and drink too little. That's why he reached for the tea and tried to empty the whole pot as quickly as possible. Every now and then interrupted by deep puffs of the shisha. At first he had only pulled it slightly, but in the meantime he pulled down the clouds deep, let them down a little and let the big clouds come out of his lungs again. Everything was different here and today than he was used to. The tea tasted woody and the shisha also had its own taste that he had never tasted before. What he didn't know was that it was a tea mixture of Yohimbee wood and G and what he pulled so joyfully into his lungs was not hookah tobacco but a mixture of tobacco and T. At first he briefly panicked when all the muscles all over his body began to tremble, and cold shivers flashed across his body. Just at that moment the Tellak came back, naked from head to toe like him. Both covered only with a cloth. He said it was certainly the deep relaxation. He is now ready for the massage. On the way back to the big Hararet he calmed down and his tail stood up and became rock hard. No matter what he was trying to think about, the erection did not go back. The Arab from whom he had learned in the meantime that this was called Cem, led him into the large dome room and helped him to the middle of the heated navel stone, took off his plague and told him to lie on his back. Jamal, who was still floating on a flying carpet, now knew that he could no longer hide his erection from Cem. He fetched his Kese, the exfoliating glove and began to free his body from pore deposits and skin scales with gentle pressure. Again and again accompanied by warm and from time to time cold water jets. He had to turn around and the same procedure took place in the back. Cem must be an expert he thought he also rubbed intensively on his cock and his scrotum as well as now on his ass gap around. He felt how something was lightly pressed into his anus and something was also injected there. It burned briefly but his anus reacted with great joy to this treatment, no it even spread forward into his cock and through the rest of the body. He had a desire for Cem to play with his anus even more than just the short rubbing. Cem felt his hand over Jamal's back and noticed that he was still not really relaxed. He knew how to change that and Jamal clearly said he had chosen the full program. Again Cem grinned mischievously, no almost even devilishly down and licked his lips. Well, if you say so, he said. Very short time later, he held a glass bong machine in front of Cem and pressed a remote control into his hand. He should press on it and when the glass ball has filled with the relaxing remedy, he should inhale deeply and then let go, keep the smoke a little down and then slowly blow out. The stupid boy didn't ask what kind of cure it would be there. Well, maybe it was also because his brain was already clouded with an acceptable dose of T. Anyway, he does as told and pressed the button of the piece in his hand. He heard and saw how a flame ignited in front and something in the Bong turned to smoke. After taking a deep breath, he briefly felt something go deep into his anus. The naive Turkish boy suspected and did not know that it was a booty bump. After a few more deep moves, Jamal was already really wide. He had to lie on his back again and his expert began to soap him up with the linen bale. He felt how something flowed out of his asshole and he became even more foggy but also much more uninhibited and horny. When his front body was over, he had to turn again. He was so stoned and relaxed that he almost couldn't do it with his own strength, Cem helped him. The stupid boy reached for the remote control button again and Cem shook his head laughing. The 20-year-old did not notice that Cem had been naked for a long time. Cem also soaped him in the back and as he was done he poured him with a few hot water pours to wash off the soap and a cold water pour to stimulate his circulation. The Arab took the bong machine away, the boy had already dropped the operation from his hand some time ago, and broke it back to the place where he had fetched it. Then he dabbed Cem's back with his cloth that was still almost dry on the side, grabbed a bottle of massage oil and began to massage the boy's back. He relaxed more and more, his pupils were already pitch black and huge from the many smoke. After the back and the arms came the legs and when he got there at the top he took care of the boy's ass. He spread his legs, inwardly hoping that the Tellak would also make him sexually happy. He was so horny. That exactly this was the goal of the Arab POZ stallion, since he could not know the horny young Turk, who was about to close the hammam, he could not know. He did not know that everything that had happened to him tonight had no other purpose than to make him unrestrained and willless, he did not know. The gay Tellak was nothing less than the son of the gay hammam owner and not an ordinary employee. He had separated from Cem's mother after he had come out. In his wild bareback games, he got the POZ epidemic. He infected his son during his nocturnal family rape games. Cem has only fucked bare around since then and from time to time there were special POZ parties with all kinds of drugs here in the hammam. That's exactly why everything was there that could offer support. Cem massaged the boy's hole like a world champion. Found that the boy was absolutely clean and flushed. But since he wanted the boy to be really tall, he tells him that the full program also includes the massage from the inside, and he had to be clean. He fetched a large bag of meth splitter solution and let it run into the boy. He let it work in the body of the young Turk for a few minutes. Cem now pushed a plug up Jamal's ass and pulled him up. He led the boy through the room to a rounding of the room where it had a shower head, turned on the water and wrapped his arms around the Turkish upper body. He knew that if the boy was tight now, the mixture in his guts would catapult him into a whole new level after elimination and be nothing compared to what was now. He pressed his now erect 20cm tail against the hole of Jamal. He was happy and thought he would be fucked now and began to relax. Cem quickly withdrew, just in time. Because suddenly a huge wave of chemical ass juice mixture came out of the boy's anus. He pressed and made and Cem knew, when the whole broth was dried up, that the boy was now not only completely clean but high in a different stratosphere. In the meantime, Jamal could not even walk by himself, so Cem had to carry him back to the warm stone. When they arrived, Jamal told his masseur that he urgently needed to be fucked by his horny fat cock, deep in his boy pussy. Jamal had reached his goal. The Arab POZ stallion took his tail in his hand and held it in front of the throat entrance of Jemal. He immediately opened his mouth and began to suck the part. Cem held the head of the loaded boy and pressed his fat part deep into the boy's esophagus and began to run his water that he had accumulated. He squirted the piss broth directly into the boy's stomach. He choed and tried to struggle for air, which he had a hard time. When Cem had pissed off, he withdrew and said this was easier than to get water. Jamal looks at him greedily with tears in his eyes. He again took Jamal's head in his hand and pressed it on his now rock-hard tail in the longing for the boy's ass. When he had fucked something in it, he pulled back and went to the back so as not to waste time and push his swollen masculinity into the boy. He didn't care how much it hurt the Turkish boy and he began to push his uncut cock into his hole. At the same time, he pushed down the boy's back and slammed centimeter by centimeter with ease into his long tail. Jamal groaned and let himself be plowed unrestrained. Cem had reached the places that Jamal loved to get fucked and had never felt it as horny as now. The bolt-stick tail dripped with pre-sap without protection straight deep in the middle of the channel and was soon able to inject his POZ seed. His hip and his balls hit each time with animalistic passion on the body lying under him. Then he heard the grunt of the Arab, who once again pressed deep into him. His cock staggered and throbbed powerfully inside and spit his juice into him in rashing thrusts. Jamal felt six bursts of the juice squirt along his intestinal walls and how his hole simply filled. Cem kept there for a few more seconds and squeezed out the rest of his sperm. Then he began to pull out his fat Dick. The ass milked its last drops from the exploded cock. Cem apologized that he came so fast but he just needed it now because he never jerks off until he comes. He sounded very satisfied with himself. But finally he was only at the beginning of this fuck night with the Turkish guest. He massaged around this plump ass and slowly pressed four fingers into it. His big paws were imposing but he wanted to sink his whole hand in this boy. Slowly he streened the rosette with his fingers. Millimeter by millimeter he came forward. Jamal felt the pain but he was somehow far away, so he didn't cramp and then suddenly with a plop the hand was in it. Slowly, Cem rotated the widest part to make sure that if he had a part of his arm digging in the boy, it would not close again and he would only come out again with the opening of the anus. But the sphincter relaxed and showed no signs of contracting again. Slowly but steadily, Cem pushed his arm into it. He was surprised how full this bitch inside was already after his first shooting of his infecting charge. The digging and feeling of the warm flesh that his hand was around made him horny and his tail grew again. His cock stood up again full and hard when he pulled his hand out of the already well filled ass with cum. He reached forward with his hand full of his juice, which he had previously pressed into this Kimme with his tail and put his juice-smeared fingers in front of Jamal's mouth for his entertainment. Submissively, he sucked first his index finger, then his thumb, then the rest of his hand. His legs were just twitching at the moment. The Turkish handsome was now also aware that his ass would no longer be the same after that night. How far the effects would extend, however, he could not yet guess in the least. The Tellak again put his tail, dripping in threads, in front of the twitching hole. Quickly and vigorously he pressed the part completely down to the balls deep inside. Jamal let out screaming moans and squeezed his fists tightly, while the sperm porridge was opened deep into his guts by the fuck bolt. The balls hit mercilessly like thunders on his ass. His Turkish beating that still stood like a one through the Yohimbeetee and it smelled of sperm and sex all over the large room. With further constant thrusts, the Arab evenly spoiled the young fuck hole that hurt dullly. Slowly but surely demanded a next load of POZ soup to be released in the walking Arab bulls. His constant fucking went into an uncontrolled threshing. The tail poded around, each time he hit in a different place. The Dick tensed and got bigger just before he surrendered. Cem went down with his head and with a kiss he wanted to dampen his cry full of ecstasy but it was too much with the shooting off of his second load he bit the boy with his teeth deep into the boy's flesh. That was also too much for the boy and he cramped up and spermed his own last negative charge between his loins and the warm stone. Then he fainted and Cem also collapsed on him. After several minutes, Jamal came back to himself. The Tellak was still on him and the meanwhile flaccid cock of the Arab stallion was still in the fucked up sperm cave. A few minutes later, Cem struggled up, poured Jamal with several ladles of cold water and carried the boy out into the long corridor to the carpet room. He put him down there and got him a pot of cool tea with G in it and treated himself to a refreshment. Time was already well advanced, outside it was already getting light. His father had to be awake by now, so he could inform him why he didn't come home that night. It wasn't a problem with them or anything, but he still didn't want him to worry. Secretly, he hoped that he might even want to come over to help him make the special guest happy. After ringing three times, it also decreased. Cem told his father that this night, just before they had closed, there was still a boy in front of the door and because he had liked him so much, he decided to let him in and use him for his diabolical game. Since both generations of the family had the same male taste, his father was passionate about the suggestion that he could join the game. The father instructed his son to hold the guest high. He himself wants to call the rest of the guys, who probably also wanted to celebrate today with a party. The boys were the rest of the hammam's employees. Since the whole staff was always horny anyway, a spontaneous POZ party could be convened. Even the two boys who were not gay were usually always there, for them the main thing was that they could shoot their evil seed into some twitching hole. An hour later, the remaining 17 players of this team were also all present. Everyone was enthusiastic and immediately ready to contribute their part to the success of the "Turkish Conversion" campaign. In the meantime, Cem had given his guest a special bong. He was quite loaded and relaxed in front of him, repeatedly broke the crystals with the lighter to develop into smoke and inhaled it deep into his lungs. The father was the first to be there. He was delighted with the appearance of the guest, which - which was to be expected - was entirely to his liking, as well as the condition of this boy. But he wanted to because it became even more loaded and so he prepared a syringe for injection with T in the shisha kitchen. Excited for the second part, or is it a waste of time?

Dan is getting all that good advice but we all know there's only one reason he is taking his meds - because his man told him to - and we all know why Rick is telling hm to. It is just a beautiful slow-burn and I'm here for it all the way!

I really like a nice set of balls. decent sized and they look confined in the sack like they are really full of sperm. I see them and think to myself that they look like they are full of sperm and really need to unload. I want it in my ass.

Anyone else into being photographed or videoed while you suck or get fucked and they keep the pics/vids? I have always loved it. Way back before digital cameras I would use a Polaroid instant camera to take pics while I sucked cock. I had probably 150 pics but sadly I accidentally left them behind when I moved from PA. Somebody has those pics 😁 Jump forward to digital cameras and cell phones and I began asking guys all the time if I could snap a few pics while I sucked them. They always said yes. I also always take pics while I suck at the gloryhole. My profile pic is me sucking my cousin's cock. He took the pic. My regular feeder for 9.5 years loved it. He used my phone to take dozens of videos and hundreds of pics while I serviced him. Then one day I was sucking off one of his friends and I glanced over to see him recording me with his phone. Then he asked the guy for his phone and took some pics of me sucking his cock. When I switched to my feeders cock the guy used his phone to take more pics of me. That's when I realized I liked the idea of other guys having pics and video of me sucking cock. One day guy I was sucking off a guy that I regularly serviced and I heard a click and glanced up to see he had a digital 35mm camera. He said "Don't worry. I am not getting your face." and I told him to zoom out so he could. He was surprised and asked if I was sure and I confirmed I was, then spent about 10 minutes posing for pics while sucking his cock and balls. He took pics on several other occasions and even set up a little Handycam once and videoed a full suck session. Anyone else?

Very sexy and hot!

Uhm - nice to get paid for what you love to do

This is a long-held fantasy of mine going all the way back to my early teen years. I grew up on a farm and was well aware of what castration was by puberty. I became aware of what a penectomy was as an adult and I find that significantly more appealing for several reasons. One, I have an exceptionally small dick (under 3" erect) and have evolved to be a 100% NSA cock servant as a result. I have zero desire for pleasure or attention to my dick and I tell guys upfront that my only interest is their pleasure. As a result, I have not had my dick sucked or stroked in like 20 years. Having it removed would solidify the idea that my only focus is their pleasure and orgasm since mine can never be achieved. Two, I absolutely love to have my balls abused. LOVE to have them abused. No limits. Take your pleasure from my pain. I have always enjoyed ball abuse so much that I actually did it to myself long before anyone else did. Three, I don't want to risk losing my libido or masculinity. And finally, I think it would be extremely hot to have balls and no dick. Being perpetually horny because I have no dick and can't jerk off would be like being caged without the cage.

Confidence (but without being arrogant or cocky). Confidence in who he is, confidence in the bedroom, confidence in what he wants. The best sex I've ever had in my life has been with guys most would describe as "an average Joe" in the looks department who exuded sexual confidence. When I lie down and put my legs up and I see him stroking his (likely average) dick to get it hard with a smile on his face and a little wink all I can think is how badly I want his load in me. Take me, son - Daddy's ready for what you want to give him.

"Are you clean" / "I'm clean" is a deal breaker for me. It implies people with HIV are "dirty." People asking that don't get a second ride. I ask HIV neg or undetectable? Any other diagnosed STIs or communicable / blood stuff I could catch? Be clear in your intention. And for God's sake ask before he's balls deep in your guts.

Great beginning to the story!!!

Thin boy looking to be slutted out by you and your homeboys the more the better I want to catch all that much of every one of you over and over like a BBC cum dump to be used let's make this happen

Skip Construction and go to Factory, Zoo or Noxon. Go to Reds for poz loads. Cruise Bar is good too, but don't expect many loads

Just a little epilogue. 17 tops fucked 20 loads into me at this event. Not bad for the Jersey burbs. Thanks to everyone who took time out of their day to breed me.

Again, Masterful writing @mancoco... and I think we have all experienced the last comment after talking with close friends 'I felt more comfortable about being me.'... in my case only a year or so ago... and I sooo wish I had met a Rick type figure when I was back at uni to help me understand me :)

love it

Going to be in trades Saturday the 13th of march looking to take loads and be a slut. Anyone else going to be there? Or locals?

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.