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I was out taking loads again last night 630pm to 4am Twelve successful loads.

I was at the Vault in London yesterday for their naked night. I'd taken a few cocks (not many as it seemed quieter than usual) when this nice Scandi guy fucked me. He obviously enjoyed being in my hole because he came back several times- once after he'd said he was going home. Anyway, after a bit of steady paced fucking, he suddenly started increasing the rate and I knew what I was about to get. "I've just cum" he said, kissed me and finally DID go home. I allowed a few more guys the pleasure of my tummy hole and then I too left. Sat on the tube trying desperately to hold the load in but my pants when I got home told a different story.

PERFECT 10 On Weds, I had a light day and was working from home. I decided to txt some fwb’s to see who was around. Below is what transpired. (1) K is a handsome black cub who works nearby. He stopped by around 11am over this lunch break I then had a light lunch at 12:30 (2) Andreas came by at 2pm. Handsome latino guy with curly hair and a thick dick. He knows exactly how i like it. (3) M was substitute teaching at a nearby school. Classes finished at 2:30 and he was balls deep in me by 2:45pm. M also sucked and swallowed my load XD (4) & (5) Had a 3:30pm threesome with daddylicious Howard (I’ve written about him in the past; we’ve been fucking since 2011) and a new fwb, Marcus, who teaches Pilates nearby. (6) & (7) due to time constraints and other logistics, I traveled to the West Village to give some ass to my buddies, Tom & Gary. Both are 50+ handsome guys with decades of topping experience. They split me open good (8) J is another teacher who works nearby, but finished work at 5pm. He came over at 5:15pm (9) I took the bus uptown to see my new crush, Joe, in midtown west. We are crushing on each other and exchanged Christmas gifts. He bred me deep around 6:45pm. (10) Sleepover with my buddy, R. R is a sweet, handsome, huscular 37yo Mexican top. He bred me good and then we cuddled while watching cartoons and ate take-out Chinese food. He then fucked me again before we went to bed and gave me another load around midnight. (Sent my ass to work on Thursday with 3 loads). R texted me on Thurs. saying that he was sooooo tired in the office because I wore him out. LOLOLOL A perfect 10 (tops) with a dozen loads XD

Thanks for all the kind words and hope all are enjoying this hot retelling of my first pnp. Here is the next Chapter. I drove across town with the windows cracked, cool November air keeping me alert. The first booty-bump still had me buzzing quietly, but my hand stayed in my pocket, fingers on the folded paper with the extra shard and lube packet. I had just gotten fucked not even 30 minutes ago and here I was on my way to get a train run on me, RAW! The thought had me anxious but hornier than ever. Plan was set: park, top off in the back seat, walk in ready. No one needed to know. My phone buzzed. Nico Room 212. Second floor. Door cracked for you. Me On my way. 10 min out. Nico Bet. Dre here too. He ready. I pulled into the lot, cut the engine, slid to the back seat. Dropped my sweats just enough, lubed two fingers, worked the crushed shard deep. Sharp burn, then nothing yet—I knew it would take five to ten minutes to hit full. I clenched, fixed my clothes, and stepped out still on the first wave. Knocked lightly on 212. Nico opened the door shirtless, dreads loose, that same easy grin from earlier. “Back for more already?” he said, pulling me inside by the waistband. His friend Dre sat on the edge of the bed—taller, solid build, waves fresh, eyes locked on me. Nico closed and locked the door, grabbed a blunt off the nightstand, sparked it, and took a deep pull. Passed it to Dre. Dre hit it, exhaled slow. “So you the one Nico hit earlier? Said that ass was crazy.” I took the blunt when he passed it my way, hit it deep. “Yeah, that was me.” Nico laughed, leaning back. “Told him you took it like a champ.” We passed the blunt around a few more times, smoke filling the room. Nico told Dre how as soon as we got done at my place I was ready to get fucked raw. Dre hit the blunt. “That’s the only way I like to play,” passing the blunt to me. “I mean we vibed so much that I thought why not try it and see what’s up,” I said, after passing it back to Nico. The weed smoke, blending with the Tina rush, had my mind filled with thoughts of sucking dick and taking nut. Nico took another pull. “Dre the plug for the good shit. Always got the loud.” Dre grinned. “Appreciate that.” The second bump started creeping in—heat blooming right in my ass, clenching hard, twitching, wanting to be filled and pounded. I needed to get that dick back in my mouth at this point, so I dropped to my knees in front of Nico. Pulled his sweats down and took him deep into my mouth. Soon that beautiful black 8-inch dick was at full attention. They kept passing the blunt above me while I worked—sucking Nico deep, then switching to Dre, gagging on that thick uncut ten inches, blunt smoke drifting down over us. Nico pulled me up after a few minutes, bent me over the bed. Pushed in raw slow. First time bare—no latex, just skin on skin, hot and direct. Heat in my ass explodes, clenching tight around him, twitching, wanting to be filled and pounded. “God damn this hole tight,” Nico groaned. He stroked deep. “Fuck me like that,” I moaned. “Making me push this hole out on that dick…” Nico sped up. “Here it come.” Slammed deep, flooded me hot—my first creampie ever. Warm pulses filling me, sticking deep. I deepthroated Dre’s big black dick while Nico continued to dump his load inside my happy pussy. He pulled out leaking. Dre stepped up, pushed in thick and raw. His fat mushroom head spread my ass and my hole clenched hard around the thicker dick, twitching, begging to be pounded. “Sloppy and grippin’,” Dre hissed. “Stretch me,” I moaned. “You making me push this hole out on that big dick…” Dre fucked harder. “Gonna nut quick…” Buried deep, pumped his first load—warmth mixing, overflowing. Once again I felt the warmth of the creampie, but it’s almost as if when Dre nutted I started getting even hornier. Dre kept going. “One more…” They spit-roasted me—Nico in my mouth, Dre pounding my ass, starting a rhythm that made me bob up and down on Nico’s dick. After about 10 minutes of this I thought they would switch positions again, but Nico’s phone buzzed loud on the nightstand. He glanced at it and groaned. “Fuck, my girl just landed—she’s at the airport waiting on me to pick her up.” He slapped my ass and left. Dre flipped me on my back, threw my legs over his shoulders, and lined up again, sliding that thick raw dick back into my sloppy, cum-filled hole with one smooth push. He took his time at first, grinding slow and deep, stirring the mixed loads already inside me, making wet sounds echo in the room while he stared down at me, grinning like he owned it. Then he picked up the pace just enough, pounding deliberate and hard until he buried himself balls-deep one last time, groaning low as he pumped that final hot load deep, the warmth pooling heavy and thick, leaving me full and leaking even more when he finally pulled out. Dre pulled out, collapsed on the bed, lit the roach of the blunt for a final pull. I pulled my sweats up over the mess, cum shifting inside with every step. Dre exhaled. “You liked that weed, right?” “Yeah it was some gas,” I said, grinning. He pulled out his phone. “Put your number in. Bud, dick—I got what you need.” I added my contact, handed it back. “You ever got Tina?” I asked. Dre’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah! I stay with that too. Next time we link, I got you.” I nodded, getting the point and not wanting to overstay my welcome. I made sure I had all of my things—we said I could buy—and I made my way to the door. Got in the car, sat down and my ass felt completely wet. Now alone in the car I reflected over what went down in the last 90 minutes. I did more Tina, got fucked raw for the first time by two guys, they both nutted in me giving me my first creampies ever, and I may have found a big-dick Tina plug who loves fucking my fat ass. It was amazingly productive but I felt too good to end my night. Home twenty minutes later. I didn’t feel any symptoms of a crash coming on—in fact I felt hornier than ever. I ended up right where I started: on the end of my dildo on the fuck machine on full blast, cruising Grindr. I had gotten several messages since the last time I looked but one in particular stood out—he had a big 9-inch BBC and in his bio it read “feminine BBC wants a fat ass to fuck and eat, must like to kiss and eat ass.”

The majority of my friends don't play in the Breeding Zone / NastyKingPig / advanced bareback / poz universe so have little exposure to the vast majority of this part of my life. Those that do play on this field know and we talk openly about it or share stories or bitch about a hookup gone bad - my friend the other day called me horrified after a hookup and told me how he had to "waffle stomp" in the dudes shower for 20 minutes and the guy eventually got so concerned he came in to the bathroom and pulled open the shower curtain and witnessed my friend waffle-stomping. I digress. All of my friends know that I am very highly sexually active, and this has been almost my whole life since 15. They all know that I'm poz. They all know that I used to hook up a lot, frequent the bathhouses when I lived in Seattle, had a vast array of sex toys and gear, and even in my former house a sling room. They can make assumptions from there. I don't hide anything and if I were asked or a friend/family member wanted to know more or talk about it, I would and I'd be candid. I'm at a point in my career where I'm not concerned about any exposure to all of this in the workplace - this has made things like fuck pics and videos much more accessible for me to consider than they used to be. Of course, there have been some shocking moments at sex parties over the years. At a Cumunion in Seattle I was in the dark room for many hours taking dick and there was another bottom next to me the whole time. He was high like me. We never really made eye contact or could see each other that well, but as the party was wrapping, we both got up at the same time and realized we were CLOSE work colleagues - on the same team. I would have never thought him the type to take raw loads at a sex party and also to do drugs, yet here we both were. We formed a pretty close friendship after that. There were less ideal suprise encounters but nothing to write home about.

I did a little reading about this. ARS "Acute Retroviral Syndrome" is the technical term for "fuck flu." Like the flu, it isn't the virus itself that causes the symptoms experienced, it's our bodies dramatic immune response that created the symptoms as it tries to fight the virus. In most cases, if you already have antibodies to the virus, your body may have a milder or no reaction to exposure to the virus. However, the flu virus (as with HIV) mutates over time and our immune system may not recognize the mutated version of the virus as the same as the previous one, so may trigger a full or milder immune response - or again - it may not. The "strains" of HIV (technically called "subtypes") do vary from one another but are really specific to geographies. Now, lots of people travel and I'm sure plenty of us are fucking when we do and if you happy to live in the US, but contracted HIV on another continent, you may have a different Subtype than most North American's. FWIW, North America's most prevalent "strain" is Subtype B. You can also get infected with more than one subtype via additional exposure. This would be what happens when someone "breeds you with their strain." Assuming they have a viral load and manage to transmit it to you, it's possible then you could have Subtype B in addition to the new Subtype WHATEVER strains. Statistically, these cases would be unlikely. You'd not only have to have a top who was detectable and managed to infect the bottom, but they'd also have to have different Subtypes and the transmission would have to be successful. If all these things were true, you could end up getting another version of the fuck-flu...but again, that depends on how your body recognizes the new subtype as either similar enough to the current infection or different enough that you get the "fuck flu." So yes, it could happen and probably does but to your point @PozSir67 it hasn't been studied very much if at all because there simply are not that many occurrences of this worldwide. If anyone has better information, feel free to share. This is what I was able to cobble together over several days of lightweight searching and reading. I personally didn't know that we were Subtype B (or that they were referred to as Subtypes at all, so I learned something!!)

Maybe I am just a little too real, but I would think very few real bottoms ever get stealthed. The need for raw cock and men's seed is indelibly planted in the back of their mind, and while we all spent some time resisting raw sex, we eventually succumb as that is what permeates every fibre in our body, the need for a man's cock and the need to have him plant his seed in us. Long before I became a cumslut, I knew I was. My ex also knew I was and he recalled how easy it was after three weeks of fucking me to get his cock into me bare - he new I wanted it raw and so did I. So him leading me down the path to conversion was really easy and long before he organised my conversion party he would subtly suggest how he would like to watch his mates bang me, how he would love to have threesomes with me, how the thought of sharing my arse with a group of tops turned him on etc. He knew my love of his raw cock and raw seed being pumped into me every day had me addicted and he knew I would do anything to make him happy. That is what bottoms do. Our first group sex excursion was with two neg tops who mainly took turns tagging my while my ex watched and took photos. I took two loads of each of them in different positions and when they left my ex took over, felching me before ploughing the arse off me twice on the silk trail. I was in heaven six loads from three beautiful cocks and never slept so well in my life with him spooning me while I lay there full of seed and knowing I had given every part of me to the three tops. I knew that night that I was history. I knew that any time a man wanted to put his load in me I would be powerless to stop it. Not long after that first encounter my ex tested poz. The initial shock for me was pretty bad as we had only been together a couple of months. After an awkward hour or so, he left the room and went into the bedroom, and then he called me. I walked in and he was naked, his lovely lean hairless body and long blond hair covering the bed and between his legs his magnificent 8" thick cut boner so hard his nob was almost purple. "You still going to wrap your arse around this baby?" I never said a word I just stepped out of my shorts, threw my singlet on the floor and mounted his pole. He knew I would, I knew I would so there was no pretence. The thought of him converting me made him horny as it was the first of three loads he pumped into me that night and each time he came I felt totally at ease with the fact that he was pumping hot seed into me. Once he knew I would take loaded seed our sex life became uncomplicated. He would always organise the tops to come and fuck me, just as he would organise my gangbangs if he took me to a backroom neither of us ever asked a top I just did as I was told and took the load neg or poz. We just assumed some would be neg some would be poz and from the time my ex converted we made a choice to ban condoms from our sex lives and that meant every cock I took had to be raw. Again I was powerless to rile against the situation as I loved being fucked six or seven times in a session and I loved the feel of different cocks, all shapes and sizes and loved the fact that I gave tops pleasure - my reward was their wadd. After three months and a good number of cocks had been through me apart from my ex's I still tested negative. That is when we talked and decided on the conversion party - five tops and my ex taking me as often as they could and wanted on a Saturday night/Sunday morning excursion at our place. He advertised and spoke to a few of our regulars to ascertain if they were poz and we deliberately picked the five co tops for good reasons - they were hung so they could bury their seed deep in me, the other being they were total tops so no seed got wasted in side play. We had a few replies so getting the right five was easy. I took load after load for five hours. I was in heaven, making sure I used my muscles to drain every drop out of the six of them each time they came in me. Funnily enough I was as grateful for the last load as I was the first. When we packed it in early Sunday morning the ex butt plugged me and he lay behind me pushing and turing the butt plug so that the seed in me kept moving. The only time the butt plug came out was when he got super horny and he deposited another load in me early Sunday morning. That did the trick. Did I get stealthed no , and it was so much more enjoyable knowing these beautiful men were fucking so hard, straining so hard to breed and convert me. It was so hot listening to them talk about who would be the one that actually knocked me up - how they encouraged each other to breed me and poz me. When they asked me did I want their poz seed I felt privileged to have their beautiful cocks in me and to be given their seed. I didn't come all night, I was rock hard all night but just totally got off on what the men were doing to me and long before this happened I knew it always would. I just didn't know how. My advice to any true bottom is if you feel you are going to end up that way - plan it - it is much better than being stealthed and you have no idea how poz tops fuck cosmically and often when they know they are trying to knock someone up. My tops had sweat dripping off them and gave me every bit of cock and seed they could and were so determined to breed me. They think they won but I think I did!

I have been wanting to share my story which is based on true events that happened November 2022. I’d been lurking on this site for years, jerking to the stories, putting myself in every single one of them. All the wildest ones had one thing in common: Tina. They swore she turned regular sex into something next-level, something spiritual. I was 31, Black, thick-ass bottom, and I finally needed to know if the hype was real. I didn’t know a single soul who sold T. My usual menu was weed and poppers, nothing harder. But I knew the code words cold: PnP, ❄️, clouds, “parTy,” ice emojis. So I opened Grindr, set the filters, and started hunting. That’s when Jess popped up. Black trans girl, gorgeous in that raw, late-night way. Profile full of ass shots and the little snowflake emoji. I sent the message before I could overthink it. Me Hey. First time ever trying Tina. Got $30 cash. Can you grab for me and keep some for yourself? Jess Hey cutie! Yeah I can help you out. $30 works. Where you at right now? Me Not far. Can pull up anywhere you say. Jess Cool. Can you pull up? I’ll come down to the car. Ten minutes? I drove a short 6 minutes to her. She walked out looking exactly like someone who’d already had a long night: wild curly wig, smeared lipstick, tiny halter top, Daisy Dukes so short the pockets hung lower than the shorts, skinny but curvy where it counted, and the biggest, friendliest smile. “Heyyy baby!” she said, sliding into my passenger seat. “You’re cute as hell. First time for real?” “For real,” I laughed, handing her the folded bills. “I don’t really know what to expect.” She took the money, tucked it in her bra, and pulled out a tiny baggie with nice shards sparkling inside. “Some straight fire. You’re gonna love her.” She handed it over with a wink. “This some good shit, trust me. Text me later and tell me how she treats you.” I thanked her, she hopped out, gave me one last smile, and that was it. Polite, quick, easy. Drove home buzzing with nerves and excitement. Got in the house, locked the door, and stared at the baggie like it was a winning lottery ticket. Didn’t have a pipe, didn’t know what the hell I was doing. So first I broke off a tiny piece, stuffed it in a Black & Mild, and smoked it like weed. Tasted awful, but twenty minutes later a warm little wave rolled through me. Not crazy, but enough to make me grin like an idiot and say out loud, “Okay… feels pretty good. I get it now.” An hour of gooning later I wanted the real deal. I took a fat about .15 shard, crushed it just a little, smeared lube all over my thick dildo on the fuck machine, and rolled the crystal right onto the tip. Got on all fours, backed up slow, and let it slide in. That famous burn hit instantly: sharp, fiery, perfect. I held still, letting it melt inside me, letting it soak in. Five minutes in, the switch flipped. My whole body lit up. My ass turned into one hungry, pulsing mouth. I started rocking back faster, then faster, then I just flipped the machine on high and let it rail me. Creamy lube started foaming around the shaft. My dick stayed soft (exactly like the stories said), and that made me even hornier. I grabbed my phone with shaky hands, opened Grindr again, and every ounce of fear was gone. Scrolled till I found him: “BBC 4 fat ass – can travel.” While the machine was still pounding me into another planet, I typed one-handed: Me Dick looking great and need BBC in this phat ass right now. Are condoms cool? I sent some ass pics and one of me on my fuck machine. His reply came instantly: “Damn! I need that… WYA.” I dropped my location (something I never, ever do). Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. I opened it and there stood Nico: tall, dark, low-cut dreads, easy smile, and the thickest nine-and-a-half-inch dick I’d ever seen already swinging heavy in his sweats. I pulled him straight to the bedroom, dropped to my knees, and inhaled that beautiful, veiny monster raw. I never liked sucking dick before; it was just foreplay. Tina turned me into a different man. I worshipped that dick like it was paying my rent. A few minutes of sloppy head and I was already spinning around, spreading my cheeks. “Condom?” I managed to gasp. He rolled one on, lined up, and sank in balls-deep. Nothing in my life had ever felt that good. Every stroke lit me up from the inside. I was moaning like a porn star, pushing back, begging him to go harder. Ten minutes of pounding and Nico groaned, slammed deep, and filled the rubber. I wanted more. Went to clean him off with my mouth, but he laughed, pulled away: “Too sensitive, bro.” I joked, “If you’re sensitive now, imagine if you would’ve fucked me raw and came inside.” That made him grin wide. “Tell you what, my boy’s at the hotel with me and he loved your pics. But he only plays raw. You want both of us to run a train on that ass raw?” I froze for a second. My ass was twitching, and the thought of raw dick for the first time, by not one guy but two, which would also mean my first creampies ever… I knew this was a crossroad. A choice that would change everything. Then I smiled. “Give me ten minutes to shower and I’m there.” I closed the door behind Nico and hopped in the shower quick, water steaming hot. While I rinsed off I slid two soapy fingers inside myself, feeling how loose and hungry I still was, picturing Nico and his boy taking turns with those big raw dicks, pumping load after load deep in my guts, watching it drip down my thighs all night. I laughed under the spray, soft-dicked and hornier than I’d ever been in my life. Then I paused, towel in hand, staring at the little baggie still sitting on the counter. I wanted another bump, bad. Just enough to keep the fire roaring when those two raw dicks got in me. But I wasn’t stupid; I still had to drive across town, and the first booty-bump was already singing loud in my blood. I broke off a small shard anyway, slipped it into a tiny fold of paper, and tucked it deep in my sweats pocket with a single dab of lube in a travel packet I grabbed from the drawer. Plan was set: soon as I parked at the hotel, I’d hop in the back seat, reach back quick, slide it in, and let it melt while I walked inside already buzzing harder than ever. They’d never know I was secretly topping myself off. I threw on fresh grey sweats grabbed my keys, and headed out the door. Two raw loads were waiting… and in ten minutes I was gonna be freshly spun and ready to beg for both of them. End...for now.

My Sex Goal for 2026 is to take a big hard cock in my ass, every single day. I'm already practicing, hitting the Adult Bookstore near me, twice a day, wearing my bare ass leather chaps, and climbing into the sling, where guys can just walk right up and fuck me.

Also, the diagnostic test to determine which subtype an individual has is extremely cumbersome and difficult, not built to scale, and therefore extremely costly. Even if you did manage to get a new "strain" no medical provider would order a test to determine this. They wouldn't even have it in their catalog of tests to order. So it is likely tbat if you do get infected with a new strain and coincidentally also have fuck-flu like symptoms to whatever degree some period after this infection, it may or may not be because you got a new strain. If you happened to be taking loads the prior weeks in Ghana or Russia on any other continent, then it could be a new strain. It's highly unlikely you'd get a new strain just by taking 10000000s of loads in your hometown though. So I guess we can all just assume that pigs like me have strain after strain after strain - that sounds sexier to me.

I was cruising sniffies the other day when a familiar profile/photo of a sexy ass appeared. It was a cumdump I used to breed regularly about five years ago. This guy is a sexy man, handsome AF, tall, lean, muscular, and has an ass made for taking cock. We stopped connecting as I moved out of the area for a couple years. I immediately got hard thinking about breeding him again. I was at the gym last night and messaged him if he was taking dick. He got back to me right away like a cock starved bottom and said yes. I left gym all sweaty. Got in my truck drove over and parked. He was ass up and ready for my cock. He didn’t remember me, I didn’t mention that we fucked before. Funny how a cumdump takes so many cocks that they lose track of cocks they’ve had before. Anyway, I lick his hole, taste the previous loads he had inside him from earlier in the day. I slide my cock in and do long slow strokes, pulling out to see his gaped hole and cum on my cock. I keep pounding away like that and finally get ready to cum. I hit the poppers right after he did and told him I’m going to knock him up with my 7 day load. I let my orgasm take over and my cock busted a huge load. It pumped so much cum up inside his guts. I came down from my orgasm. Gathered my stuff and left. There was another car parked outside waiting, another car driving past looking for a spot to park. He was getting some cock last night. He is a sexy dude so I can see how he’d be getting lots of action. As I drove home I passed a former fuckbud’s house where I’d breed him good. He is a sexy porn star that lived there awhile ago and has since moved. Real bummer I can’t breed him anymore. The guy was extremely hot, beefy, muscular, beard, 9”uncut cock and a hungry hole. Anyway, hope the last night’s dude doesn’t disappear on me. It’s be really convenient to have a local cumdump to keep my balls drained.

I live near Union Station downtown so there are a fair amount of junkies and homeless around. I was walking my dog this morning, totally tweaked and filled with cum already, and this junkie asked me for money. I told him I didn't have any but if he gave me a load I'd give him a slam. He came back, fucked me on the floor. I felt his hole and it was loose as fuck and had some loads in it so clearly I wasn't the only one he'd fucked around with....

I have now concluded round 2 of this week's sextivities. In a little more than 3 days, 16 loads in me (only one neg), shot one load in a dude's hole, and shot one load just jerking off last night. Tonight I got 5 many from repeat performers from the other night. The Junkie's returned for the third time and gave me 4 loads combined between all 3 of them. My fuck buddy gave me a 5th. Not in that order though. All poz. The junkie's are poz but don't know anything beyond that (I asked them tonight), but my fuck buddy is toxic so however you slice it, I've got a lot of poz loads in me. I'm currently sitting on a towel on my couch because I created a giant wet spot on my couch sitting here. I know we used terms like "insatiable bottom" but I don't understand why taking loads just makes me want to take more loads - let I can never get enough. It feels really fucking good! I'm really using this time off to supercharge for 2026, getting fucked by some really kinky dudes, and getting my fill of poz cum. It was a lot of fun too, pretty chill given everyone had seen each other before. I'm sure all will make another appearance soon. I'm gonna keep pushing through til Friday and my piercing adjustment, because I may be out of commission for a while after that to heal. I'm sure the Junkie's will be available now that the wind has died down (they did actually end up leaving their normal place when Denver had 100mph winds and going to Cheeseman Park for a few days. But they're back and better than ever! 🙂 Time for a little break. I was a good boy before today's fuck session and remember to stretch, since my back was all sorts of twisted from the fucking the other night. 🙂 Pic is a screenshot of a video I took shooting my load the other night from my exhausted dick.

So I spoke with 6 different people, including an extremely hot pig who I cammed with for 30 minutes who has a variety of dick piercings. Everyone seemed to concur that you can jump up all the way to 0 gauge from an existing piercing. You can't start there. It may of those things a piercer would tell you is just a terrible idea so they won't do it, but also from my own experience with the healing, I think it would be really uncomfortable with a 0 gauge from the start. @Pozguyinchi unlike your nipples, your dick moves a helluva lot more moment to moment throughout the day and I think having such a heavy piece of jewelry there from the start would be extremely difficult from a healing perspective, but also as I said just very very uncomfortable. I'm more than a year in with my PA and I still have moments where I'm getting used to it. My 2 cents. I'm now gonna post about other dick piercings so check it out and let me know if you have any thoughts on that.. 🙂

100% agree - I'd rather jump straight there. I'll let you know on Friday when I have my appointment. If I can go straight to a fatty heavy 0 gauge I'm doing it!

[think before following links] https://barebackbastards.com/63335/sick-spun-out-fucking/ This one just made me nut real good. Hope you guys enjoy it too.

Several years ago, my husband had a hot massage therapist named Matt whom I had never met. My husband explained that Matt was a hot guy and that he and Matt usually talked about Matt's latest sexual conquests while Matt gave my husband massages. I never worried about my husband because he was a devotedly monogamous and he and Matt were both tops. I meanwhile was a bottom slut, getting fucked by random men behind my husband's back every chance I got. One night I was on an on-line hook-up app and ran across a top man who listed in his profile that he was also a professional masseuse. Matt crossed my mind, and I wondered if it might be him. I asked this guy where he was located, and he was in the University neighborhood where I knew Matt lived. My curiosity peaked, I finally asked this guy his first name and bingo, it was Matt! I walked a fine line as I told Matt, using a fake first name, that I was a horny bottom who needed to be fucked full of cum. I had no face pics on my on-line profile and Matt and I had never met in-person, but for obvious reasons, I did not want Matt to find out my connection to my husband. I was rock hard and super horny as I told Matt I loved anonymous sex and I had a fantasy to be fucked on a massage table with my face resting in the face cradle so the massage therapist would only see my head from the ears back and I would not be able to see his face. To be clear, that fantasy hit me for the first time in that moment, intensified knowing it was my husband’s massage therapist who would be doing the fucking without knowing it was me. Matt thought the scenario was fucking hot without knowing who I was, so I asked him if there was a way for me to arrive and enter his house and get in position on the massage table without him seeing me. Upon coming to a mutual understanding, I discreetly drove to Matt’s house that night while my husband was at work. While it was dark out, I parked my car down the street so Matt would not see it. I quietly walked up the driveway, along the side of the garage, and around the back of the house to open French doors that Matt said would be waiting for me. I shielded my face the entire time in case Matt broke his promise and watched me approach his house. I walked in and the room was dimly lit by a few well-placed candles. There was also soft ambient music playing to set the mood. I stripped down, climbed up onto the massage table and placed my face in the cradle. After about five minutes, I heard Matt quietly walk into the room and as he stood at my feet, I felt his hands touching my legs and thighs and then moving up to my butt. I felt his hands spread my cheeks and his tongue on my pucker hole as I felt his stubble make contact with ass cheeks. I started moaning like a bitch in heat. It was not long before I felt the weight of Matt’s body climb onto the table and hover over me as I felt the head of his cock push inside of my hole, using his spit and saliva as lube. Matt’s cock was both bigger and fatter than my husband's and I heard him softly encourage me to breathe as I felt his full weight on top of me and his mouth right next to my ear. Matt sank his fat schlong fully inside of me and started fucking me, his thrusts steadily increasing until they drowned out the long-forgotten mood music. His cock clearly needed a hole to get off in and it was not long before I heard a moan and masculine grunt as the man dumped his seed deep inside of me. Matt eventually collapsed on top of me, leaving me pinned between him and the massage table with my face still in the cradle, until he eventually pulled out and quietly left the room, leaving me in a state of bliss, listening to the soft music, and reflecting on the best “massage” I had ever received. It was about 90 minutes later when my husband returned home from work. I heard him call to me from downstairs but patiently and silently waited as he climbed up the stairs to our bedroom. He was surprised and stopped in his tracks as he found me naked on our bed, me lying on my back with my legs up in the air and spread wide with a fat dildo up my fuck hole. There was a bottle of lube strategically placed next to my ass, a brand name that was marketed as smelling, feeling, and tasting like cum. What my husband did not know is that I did not use any of that lube on my puffy hole prior to sticking the dildo in me. I did not need to because Matt’s cum was plentiful and allowed me to push the dildo inside with no effort. I slowly fucked myself with the dildo as my husband approached our bed. I pulled the dildo out of my ass as his face got close and I encouraged him to eat my puffy pussy. He did as instructed and his mouth and tongue were on my ass where Matt’s had been a short time before. As my husband ate my used hole, I pushed a smidge of Matt’s cum out and asked him how the lube tasted. He told me he could not believe how much it tasted like the real cum. With that I pushed out hard, dumping Matt’s huge load inside of my oblivious husband’s mouth. I could not help but say “sorry…I think I used too much lube," but my husband unknowingly gobbled down all of Matt's cum. At that very moment, I thought of Matt’s load finding a new home in my husband’s stomach. I also thought of Matt telling my husband at his next massage appointment about the huge load he anonymously dumped up a stranger's hole, on the very massage table my husband was lying on and getting a massage, both of them oblivious to the fact that it was me. The thought pushed me over the edge and I shot one of the largest fucking loads of my life! As my breathing started to return to normal and I started to experience post-nut clarity, I realized how fucking hot it was to feed my oblivious husband another guy’s cum without him knowing it...I started to think of other kinky and creative ways I could do it again!

@Knightfalconer: Like @leatherpunk16 said, you are both correct and completely incorrect. I would suggest reading the source material if you'd like (linked at the beginning), as it might give you an idea of what's going on. But, this is also meant to be a one off, so nothing in this should be considered canon, and instead just a fun side project... so it should enjoyable on its own if you don't feel like reading the novel (quite literally) we have posted there. Both the one-off and the main story have been a fun project to write. This is only meant to tide people over until we can post again, as well as help drive people to checking out our full story. Also, it will only be about 7-8 Chapters long. Anyways, without much further wait, here is chapter 2... -------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 2: Up the Chimney He Rose The storm outside had grown vicious enough to make the old fraternity house groan at every gust. Snow slapped hard against the windows, blurring the world beyond into a white, swirling void. Inside, Phi Alpha Gamma had settled into a warm, chaotic mess: blankets draped over sagging couches, empty cans scattered across the coffee table, the air thick with the mingled smells of popcorn, sweat, and cheap beer. Die Hard lit the room in flashes of gunfire and Christmas lights—Derek’s official “holiday classic” and the one time of year no one bothered arguing with him about movie choices. The boys were loud, half-buzzed, and fully invested in watching Bruce Willis crawl through air ducts. Until Bran paused the movie. The sudden stillness felt unnatural, leaving only the sound of the storm beating against the house. Bran didn’t explain; he didn’t have to. His gaze had drifted toward the basement door, expression tightening in that way that said he’d been thinking about something for longer than he let on. “Noah’s been down there too long,” he finally said. A few groans circled the room, but nobody contradicted him. Even in their half-drunken state, they all knew the unspoken rule: if a pledge disappears for more than fifteen minutes, someone checks. And if you’re the one who brought him in, that someone is always you. Derek exhaled heavily into the couch cushion, reluctant to move. He’d just gotten comfortable—blanket over his legs, beer warming his hand, the best part of the movie queued up. He tried half-hearted excuses, joking attempts to pawn the duty off on someone else, but Bran wasn’t budging, and everyone knew it. Responsibility. The one downside of being VP. And the dipshit’s cousin. With a dramatic sigh, Derek peeled himself out of the blanket and pushed to his feet, cracking joints and stiff muscles protesting the movement. The room laughed at him for being over-the-top, and he tossed back a lazy middle finger as he headed toward the hallway. The warmth of the living room faded with each step. The house felt different here—quieter, cooler, the kind of silence that seemed to listen back. Derek paused at the basement door, hand on the knob, feeling the faint cold radiating through the wood. The storm rattled the glass panes in the living room behind him; the floor creaked under his weight. “All this for family,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He opened the door. A draft of cold air spilled up the stairs like a warning. Derek descended anyway. Derek reached the bottom of the stairs and let the basement swallow him. The door creaked shut behind him with a hollow sound that seemed too loud for the space, muting the movie and laughter upstairs until it felt like a different world entirely. Down here, the air was heavy with the scent of dust, old cardboard, and the faint mineral tang of cold concrete. He swept his phone flashlight across the basement. The clutter was familiar—bins stacked haphazardly, half-deflated holiday inflatables, strings of lights tangled like abandoned vines. Nothing out of place. Nothing disturbed. And still no sign of Noah. A part of Derek relaxed at that. No crisis. No broken limbs. No fainted pledge for him to drag upstairs like a responsible older cousin. He’d been gearing himself up for a lecture, a report, maybe even a call to campus security. But the basement was just a basement. “Of course,” Derek muttered, rubbing a hand over the tense muscles of his neck. “Kid probably flipped the breaker and sprinted upstairs to crash like a little gremlin.” He turned back toward the stairs and called up with an unnecessarily loud voice, “NOAH WENT TO BED! HE’S NOT DOWN HERE!” The boys erupted into laughter—muffled by distance but still carrying their usual rough affection. Someone threw in a sarcastic cheer. Someone else shouted a joke about Noah already hibernating. It was exactly the kind of idiotic chorus Derek expected from them, and despite his irritation, it loosened something in his shoulders. He let out a breath and scanned the room again. The storm slammed against the house with renewed force, rattling the small basement window. A sharp gust knifed through the old frame, sending a sweep of cold air across Derek’s bare arms. He shivered and shook out his shoulders, then crossed the room to push the window open just a few inches. The icy wind sliced through the basement’s stale warmth, refreshing in a way that made Derek inhale deeper. Perfect for smoke. Perfect for clearing his head. Perfect, honestly, for ignoring Noah for another ten minutes. He moved toward the tarp-covered crate tucked behind a pile of unused folding chairs. The tarp lifted with a soft rasp, revealing exactly what he’d hoped to find. The cedar cigar box gleamed softly under the flashlight beam—rich wood, smooth finish, the one nice object he owned that hadn’t been ruined by frat life. The cigars inside were arranged neatly, nestled like small luxuries among the clutter. Next to them sat a trio of half-functioning lighters, a cutter, and beneath those— The stack of glossy magazines he definitely didn’t want anyone else finding. He thumbed through the pile. Old issues with worn corners, kink mags he’d bought in out-of-town gas stations, a few things salvaged from older brothers who’d graduated. He stopped when he reached the leather daddy spread—the one with the broad-shouldered biker gripping a femboy’s jaw with an expression that promised absolutely filthy things. A slow, amused smile tugged at Derek’s mouth. “Yeah… you’ll do,” he said quietly. He selected a cigar, clipped it, and lit it with practiced ease. The end glowed orange, and the first inhale filled his lungs with warm, earthy smoke. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the nicotine smooth out the tension of finals week and the annoyance he’d felt climbing off the couch. Down here, away from the noise, the cold, and responsibility, the cigar felt like a small oasis. Dragging over the battered folding chair, Derek unfolded it beside the cracked window, settling into it like a man claiming a throne. He unzipped his jeans, pushed them down enough to get comfortable, and angled his phone’s flashlight downward toward the magazine on the cement floor. The glossy page lit up beautifully in the beam. “Variety’s the spice of life,” he murmured to himself with a smirk. “And these guys upstairs would die if they knew how spicy I’ll go.” He took another deep pull from the cigar, savoring the burn in his throat. Smoke curled from his lips in slow, luxurious streams as he leaned back into the metal chair, letting the cold air kiss his bare skin while the heat of the cigar warmed him from within. He lowered his gaze to the magazine. The leather daddy stared back, smug and powerful, the twink kneeling between his boots. Derek couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped him. “Goddamn,” he whispered, and began. Expertly, he spit into his hand and slowly began to to stroke his uncut cock as he drew hard on the cigar, enjoying the rush as he began muttering at the twink on the page. “Yeah, you wanna getting fucked by daddy, don’t you boy? Gonna be daddy’s good little boy and suck every drop down? Bend over and hold that prettly little ass apart and let me fuck you raw?” He stoked hard and fast, occasionally drawing hard and blowing out a cloud of smoke at the page, letting his mind pretend it was that little cocktease of a TA in his English lit class at his knees. He took a deep inhale, enjoying the feeling of the smoke billowing out of his nose. Suddenly, a strange idea floated into his head, not of fucking someone, but being fucked. Wondering what it might be like to be the one under the biker, feeling as someone suddenly started to fuck his ass, fill it with their cum. Derek laughed and shook his head, immediately telling himself that he was a top. And that there was no fucking way he’d bottom for anyone, forcing his mind firmly back to his mental assault on the TA. Minutes drifted by unnoticed. The storm’s howls softened into background noise. The boys upstairs were distant, irrelevant. Down here, Derek was alone with smoke, cold air, and the steady rhythm of his pleasure—soothing, familiar, private. He only stopped when a sound broke through the quiet. A low, dull thud from behind the locked maintenance door. Not the furnace. Not the house settling. Something else. Something that didn’t belong in the basement at all. Derek was just settling into the rhythm of it—warm cigar smoke in his lungs, the cold wind from the cracked window brushing against his overheated skin—when a dull, heavy thud rolled out from the far side of the basement. The sound came from behind the old maintenance door, the one nobody ever opened because it led to pipes, storage, and decades of dust. Derek froze, his hand still wrapped around himself, head tipped slightly as he waited for it to repeat. For a moment the basement sat completely still, empty except for the rattle of the winter storm battering the window. Then the second noise came—a dragging scrape across old stone, slow and uneven, like something heavy shifting its weight in a room that shouldn’t have contained anything heavy at all. A cold prickle crept up the back of Derek’s neck. He lowered the magazine and tried to listen past the thump of his own pulse. He wasn’t scared exactly, just thrown off in the same way he’d been the night Ty insisted the house was haunted after getting drunk on peppermint schnapps. Still, the sound was wrong enough to get under his skin. He let out a frustrated exhale and quickly zipped himself up, the motion abrupt and irritated. The warmth in his body hadn’t faded, but now it competed with a creeping annoyance—of course Noah had found a way to make this simple errand complicated. Derek jammed the cigar back between his teeth, grabbed his phone, and stalked across the room toward the maintenance door, muttering under his breath about clueless pledges and avoidable concussions. As he approached, the cold coming from beneath the door brushed over his ankles like a draft from an open freezer. The handle felt even colder when he wrapped his fingers around it—a sharp, metallic chill that didn’t match the rest of the basement at all. He hesitated only long enough to grumble a final complaint about getting stuck with responsibility duty, then gave the door a firm shove. It swung open with a long, low groan. A wave of stale, icy air drifted out, carrying the smell of damp stone and something faintly chemical that stung the inside of his nose. Derek stepped inside cautiously, lifting his phone so the flashlight beam cut through the darkness. The light washed over rusted pipes, coils of forgotten wiring, and an uneven stone floor slick with moisture. The entire room felt older—deeper—than the rest of the house, as though it belonged to a different building entirely. He tried to steady his breath, forcing a cocky tone back into his voice more for his own benefit than anyone else’s. “Noah, if you wandered in here and knocked yourself out on a pipe, I swear—” Something slapped across his face with sudden, shocking force. A thick burst of warm slime splattered over his mouth, nose, and eyes. The shock of it made him stumble backward, grabbing blindly at the air. The slime burned cold for a split second before turning hot—unnervingly hot—like someone had poured liquid fire along his skin. When he wiped at it, the chemical taste hit immediately, bitter and electric against his tongue. The heat rushed downward into his chest and limbs so fast his knees buckled. His phone slipped from his fingers, bouncing across the stone with a clatter that sounded strangely far away. Derek tried to suck in a breath, but the air felt thick and syrupy, his thoughts dissolving into static as the warmth spread down into his spine and stomach. He dropped to one knee, then the other, hands braced on the cold stone that now felt distant beneath him. Another wave of heat rolled through, stronger, heavier, pulling his muscles into a loose, unreliable tremble. He forced his head up, blinking through the blur distorting his vision. That was when he saw them—massive, inhuman feet standing just inches in front of him. Not boots. Not shadows. Skin. Obsidian-black, glossy like wet leather stretched over raw muscle. The ground seemed to tilt under him as he stared, barely able to process what he was seeing before another hot surge pulled him sideways into the dark. The maintenance room swayed around Derek like it was being viewed underwater. The cold stone under his palms should’ve grounded him, but the heat spreading through his veins made everything feel distant and unreal. He tried to lift his head again, struggling against the syrup-thick fog gathering behind his eyes. His breath hitched. The figure in front of him wasn’t a trick of the light. It was enormous—taller than any human he’d ever seen, muscles carved in deep, shifting ridges beneath pitch-black skin that gleamed like oiled leather. Curved horns rose from its skull, thick and heavy, sweeping backward in a shape that made Derek’s chest seize with a primal, instinctive dread. Drool slid from the creature’s sharp teeth in thin ropes that glimmered faintly in the dim red glow pulsing somewhere further inside the chamber. A low growl rumbled through the stone floor and into Derek’s bones. He tried to scramble backward, but his limbs barely answered him. The chemical heat coursing through his body made his muscles feel detached, like something else was controlling the signals before they reached him. His hands slipped on the damp stone as he attempted to push himself away, his vision swimming harder with every movement. Another shape shifted in the dark beyond the creature—then another. More footsteps echoed from deeper in the chamber, slow and deliberate, like predators circling a stunned animal. Derek’s gaze flickered sideways, catching only brief impressions: the glint of more horns, the ripple of massive chests, the dull glow of reflected red light sliding across slick skin. His phone, lying several feet away, flickered once before the screen dimmed. The tiny glow made the rest of the chamber feel impossibly vast, the shadows unnervingly alive. Derek tried to speak—maybe Noah’s name, maybe a curse—but the word dissolved into a thick, breathless sound as another pulse of heat rolled through him. His chest tightened; his stomach clenched; his thighs shook beneath him. The cigar he’d been clinging to slipped from his mouth and hit the floor with a soft hiss, the ember smearing against the wet stone. A clawed hand—massive, warm, impossibly precise—reached down and closed around his jaw, lifting his head. Derek choked on a startled gasp as the creature tilted his face up, forcing him to meet the dark, hollow places where its eyes should have been. Another growl vibrated from the creature’s chest. This one felt almost… amused. Derek’s vision flickered in and out, his pulse hammering in his ears. He could feel his body giving out, the chemical warmth dragging him deeper into helplessness. He fought to stay upright, to stay conscious, to make sense of anything— Then another splash of wetness hit him across the cheek and temple, more slime catching the heat of his skin instantly. The chemical burn intensified, spreading down his neck and shoulders in a sizzling wave. Derek’s arms buckled; his breath stuttered; the world tilted sideways. He collapsed fully onto the stone floor. The cold should have shocked him awake. Instead, it barely registered against the feverish overheating of his skin. His vision dimmed at the edges, shapes blurring into dark smears. He heard the heavy footsteps closing in, the low chorus of growls echoing through the chamber, the slow exhale of something enormous drawing nearer. Through the haze, he caught a single, horrifying detail: Noah was lying on the ground a few feet away. Naked. Motionless. Glowing faintly under the red light. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, a dazed half-smile on his lips that made Derek’s stomach twist. Derek reached toward him instinctively, fingers dragging across the stone. “Noah—” The whisper barely left his throat before the darkness tightened around the edges of his vision. The last thing he saw was the towering creature leaning over him again, its silhouette blotting out the flickering glow like a closing door. Then the floor rose up to meet him, and everything went black. — A thick, rumbling vibration pulled Derek back up from the dark—like the sound of a distant engine or an animal too large to imagine. The noise crawled up through the floor and pressed against his chest, coaxing his eyes half open. The world swam, then steadied just enough for him to comprehend the shape looming above him. The creature was kneeling now, massive shoulders hunched, horned head tilted with an unsettling calm. In the red glow pulsing from the sagging Christmas lights strung deep in the chamber, its obsidian skin gleamed like lacquered leather pulled taut over dense muscle. Drool slid in long, viscous ropes from its sharp teeth, pattering onto the stone near Derek’s cheek. His stomach lurched. He tried to push himself back, but his limbs barely twitched, the lingering chemical warmth numbing half his strength and scrambling his senses. The creature’s claws moved with unexpected gentleness as it plucked Derek’s fallen cigar from the floor. It inspected the half-burned end, then leaned forward and slipped it between Derek’s lips as though returning something he’d dropped at a dinner table. Derek inhaled reflexively. Heat filled his lungs again, thick and smoky, pulling a shiver from somewhere deep in his spine. Another vibration echoed through the room—footsteps, heavy and deliberate. Derek forced his blurry gaze upward just in time to see more shapes emerging from the shadows. One by one, they stepped into the faint red glow: A second monster, then a third. A fourth, fifth, sixth. Seven in total, each massive, horned, and dripping with saliva, their bodies built like sculpted nightmares carved from obsidian. All of them carried themselves like soldiers. And they weren’t alone. From the far end of the chamber, barely visible, another presence lingered—larger, stiller, watching with a slow-burning patience. Derek couldn’t fully make out its form, only the faint ember of a cigar glowing like a solitary red eye in the dark. The Alpha. Even through his haze, Derek felt it—an instinctive tightening in his chest, a pressure at the base of his skull. The air grew heavier, charged, as if gravity itself thickened in the Alpha’s presence. Derek’s gaze drifted, searching through the blur, hunting for an anchor in the panic— And then he saw Noah again. His cousin lay curled on the opposite side of the chamber, skin slick with sweat, chest rising and falling in shallow, rhythmic breaths. His eyes were open, but unfocused—dreamy, dazed, still caught in a fog that made Derek’s throat tighten. “Noah…” Derek tried again, but the word melted into a rasp. The monsters responded to the sound with a chorus of low growls, the tones layered and resonant, vibrating through the chamber like a ritual drumbeat. Their horns caught the dim light in quick flashes—curved, jagged, imposing—each pair slightly different, each head bowing subtly toward the Alpha’s distant glow. Derek blinked hard, fighting the pull of sleep or blackout. The heat in his chest bloomed again, spreading through his limbs in slow, molten waves. Every breath seemed to thicken the haze around him. The creature holding his jaw rumbled softly, as if pleased by his attempt to stay conscious. The others closed in, forming a loose semicircle—silent except for their deep breathing and the soft drip of saliva onto stone. Their presence crowded the air, heavy and unyielding, a wall of muscle, horns, and furnace-hot breath. Something important was about to happen. Derek felt it—not in his mind, but in his body, in the way his skin prickled and the heat inside him swelled as though anticipating command. He wanted to move. He wanted to scream. He wanted to wake up. But all he could do was breathe smoke and stare helplessly as the eight monstrous silhouettes surrounded him like a ritual coming to life. The creature crouched nearest to Derek shifted, angling its massive frame so the dim red bulbs overhead struck its features more clearly. The others seemed to still in response, adjusting their posture, their growls lowering as though they were making room for something—someone—important. Derek blinked through the haze, forcing his vision to stabilize long enough to really see the one holding him. This monster was different. Its horns were thicker than the others’, curling backward in heavy, sweeping arcs like ram’s horns coated in black tar. The ridges of its shoulders were broader, its chest heavier, its posture confident in a way that felt almost… deliberate. Not just monstrous. Commanding. The kind of presence that walked into a room expecting obedience before it ever spoke. In the flicker of the failing Christmas lights, its skin gleamed with a deep, leathery sheen. Not slick like the others—more matte, almost textured, like worn black leather stretched tight across muscle. Derek’s drifting, chemically-fogged mind made a jolting connection: It looked exactly like the biker from his magazine. The leather daddy fantasy he’d been jerking off to fifteen minutes ago was now crouched in front of him as an impossibly tall, horned, drooling demon. The realization hit him so hard he almost sobbed. The monster leaned closer, head tilting with eerie curiosity. Its horns cast long curved shadows across Derek’s trembling chest. The humid breath rolling off it smelled faintly of cedar smoke, stone, and something darker underneath—something old. Behind Derek, the other monsters shifted subtly, their stances widening as though giving this one more space. Every movement, every growl, every ripple of their massive bodies deferred outward from this central figure. Even in his fogged state, Derek sensed the hierarchy: Not the Alpha. But close. Second-in-command. The creature’s claws tightened around Derek’s jaw—not painfully, but with a sense of ownership, of evaluation. It studied him in a way that made Derek’s ribs feel too small for his lungs. From the back of the chamber, the Alpha’s ember glowed brighter for a moment. A voice Derek couldn’t place—deep, resonant, vibrating more in his skull than in the air—rolled through him like a slow thunderclap: “Gravestone. Give me your opinion of this one.” The name wasn’t spoken aloud so much as delivered. A designation. A command. A recognition. And in that instant, Derek knew without question that this was the creature’s name. Heavy. Unyielding. Final. Gravestone. The creature rumbled in acknowledgment of the Alpha’s call, a deep sound that shook Derek’s bones. It dipped its head once, almost ritualistically, and the circle of monsters responded with a collective shift—lowering their posture a fraction, deferring to its authority. Derek felt the pressure of Gravestone’s grip increase just slightly, an unspoken signal that he was now the focus of the second-in-command’s attention. The thought should have terrified him. It did. But tangled in the fear, beneath the chemical heat crawling through his limbs, was something Derek didn’t want to name—an involuntary pull toward the creature staring him down like he was something meant to be claimed. Gravestone’s cigar ember glowed as the monster drew in a long, resonant breath. Smoke curled from its nostrils in thick ribbons that drifted lazily downward, brushing Derek’s face with a warm, smoky veil. The creature leaned in closer, its voice rumbling through both the air and Derek’s mind—low, gravelly, and almost amused: “Derek Vance… Hmm… This one will not break easily like the other. If we push, he will fight and not break. Like… The one who hunts us, Alpha.” Derek’s pulse jumped violently. He wasn’t sure if it was fear. Or something far more dangerous. Gravestone’s grip shifted, his claws spreading along Derek’s jaw to tilt his head upward with a deliberate slowness that felt more like examination than restraint. The monster’s enormous frame blocked out nearly every trace of red light behind him, leaving only a faint glow outlining the heavy curl of his horns and the dripping points of his teeth. Derek tried to jerk his chin free, but the attempt was sluggish, weakened by the chemical heat humming through his bloodstream. His breath shuddered out in short bursts, smoke leaking from his lips with each trembling exhale. Gravestone watched him with unnerving stillness. Then the monster leaned closer. The leathery sheen of his chest flexed beneath the dim bulbs, muscles shifting like coiled stone. The scents of cedar and smoke and something darker—something primal—rolled off him in thick waves. When he spoke, his voice emerged as a layered growl, vibrating through the chamber and through Derek’s ribs: “Easy now, boy. If you behave, I will make it enjoyable. This can be pleasurable if you agree to it.” The words weren’t shouted. They weren’t gentle either. They landed with the finality of a hand on the back of the neck. Derek’s heart seized. “I—I’m not—” But the protest fell apart halfway, tangled in smoke and fear. Gravestone’s thumb traced the line of Derek’s jaw, a slow, possessive drag that made Derek’s breath catch despite himself. The monster’s eyes—if he even had eyes—felt like they were inside Derek’s skull, sifting through his scattered thoughts. Another low rumble. Amusement. “You came down here,” Gravestone growled, the cigar ember glowing as he spoke, “with a cigar in your mouth. Played with yourself looking at smut.” Derek swallowed hard. His pulse hammered against the monster’s grip. “I—just needed some air—just needed to—” He choked on the next inhale, the smoke thickening in his lungs as though responding to Gravestone’s voice. The monster leaned even closer, so close Derek could feel the humid heat of his breath against his ear. “You walked into my master’s chamber tasting of smoke,” Gravestone murmured, the sound crawling down Derek’s spine, “almost like you were asking for this.” Derek’s body tensed. “No—no, I didn’t—this isn’t—” Gravestone cut him off with a deep, dark chuckle—half-growl, half-laugh, wholly unsettling. The vibration rolled through Derek’s chest like an invisible hand pressing him deeper into the stone floor. The monster’s clawed thumb slid to Derek’s chin again, tapping lightly once—an oddly deliberate gesture, as though assessing how much fight was left in him. Then Gravestone spoke again, this time both aloud and pulsing in Derek’s skull: “You like smoke, don’t you boy? You claim to want to be in charge, but you wish to serve someone as well.” Derek’s breath hitched, his lungs flaring with another involuntary inhale of the lingering cigar haze. His thoughts scattered like dry leaves in the wind. He didn’t answer. Gravestone didn’t need him to. A slow, satisfied rumble rolled through the chamber, echoed faintly by the other monsters. Their heavy footsteps shifted, stances adjusting as if they could feel Derek weakening—feel the tremor in his chest and the subtle drop of his shoulders. Gravestone’s next words curled around Derek like heat: “You love to smoke. To shoot your load as you flood your lungs. To fuck in public places, and provide pleasure to other men already. These are good traits I look for in a boy. You would make a suitable new cigar pig for me.” The phrase slammed into him with a force that made his stomach drop. Derek flinched, confusion and panic knotting in his throat. His instinct was to snap back, to deny it, to push the creature away—but the chemical warmth pulsing through his blood dulled the edges of resistance, spinning his thoughts into loose, heavy loops. He managed only a broken exhale. Gravestone’s grin widened, drool slicking down onto Derek’s chest in slow, steaming trails. The other monsters stepped in closer, forming a tighter semicircle—horns gleaming, breaths heavy, bodies shifting with a predator’s anticipation. They were waiting. Watching. Listening. Gravestone dragged one claw down the center of Derek’s sternum, gently caressing the soft skin under the mat of fur on Derek’s chest, slow enough to make every nerve spark under the heat. Then, with a voice low enough to feel more like a command than a question: “You will breathe smoke for me, boy. I will take you on personally and help you learn. I will help you see how you wish to bend over and be filled. I will not force you. I will make you want to come to me willingly.” Derek’s resolve wavered. For the first time that night, he felt something inside him tilt. Not break. Not yet. But tilt—dangerously, undeniably. As if Gravestone had found the first crack. And was widening it with every breath Derek took. The moment Gravestone spoke his command, something shifted in the chamber. The other seven monsters responded like a single organism—horned heads rising, bodies straightening, their massive frames aligning around Derek in a slow, deliberate formation. The air thickened with heat and breath and a faint chemical tang that clung to Derek’s skin like a second layer. Gravestone didn’t release his jaw. He didn’t need to. With one steady motion, he guided Derek’s head upward, forcing his gaze toward the circle closing around him. The creatures’ cigars glowed like scattered embers in a dark forest, each inhale a slow flare of orange-red light that reflected off drool-slicked fangs and lacquer-black skin. Derek tried to pull in a breath—any breath that wasn’t smoke—but Gravestone tightened his grip until Derek’s lips parted, taking Derek’s cigar and putting it in his mouth. A nearby creature locked lips with him, and exhaled. A thick, heavy cloud of cigar smoke poured over Derek’s face, sinking into his lungs before he could stop it. The heat hit him instantly, flooding his chest with a molten rush that made his ribs shudder and his limbs tremble. He coughed once— Then inhaled again, deeper, without meaning to. The warmth in his bloodstream responded immediately, blooming outward in a dizzy, spiraling wave that loosened his thoughts and softened the edges of fear. His muscles slackened. His breath slowed. The floor beneath him felt distant, his limbs disconnected, like he were floating just above his own body. Another creature stepped forward. Another set of lips locked with his, sharp teeth teasing his lips and tongue. Another plume of smoke washed into him—sweet, heavy, numbing. Derek’s eyes fluttered. His jaw sagged slightly even before Gravestone pulled his head back into position. “There you go,” the monster rumbled, pleased. “Breathe our smoke in for us. Be good for us and we will make you happy.” Derek wanted to argue, to push back, to keep some piece of himself intact. But every breath was a fresh rush of heat and fog, dissolving his resolve in increments. His thoughts felt syrup-thick, drifting from one to another too slowly to hold onto. A third creature leaned in, its horns casting jagged shadows across Derek’s chest. It exhaled directly into his mouth—hot, dense, overwhelming. Derek inhaled instinctively, his chest expanding against the pressure, the taste of smoke coating his tongue so completely he couldn’t imagine breathing anything else. By the fourth monster, Derek wasn’t resisting. His head tilted slightly forward, lips parting in anticipation of the next exhale, finding himself willing its tongue into his mouth, licking and sucking, groaning as he felt the chemicals in the saliva give him a head rush and the smoke flooded his lungs. The realization horrified him for a split second—just long enough for the chemical warmth to swallow the thought whole. The circle tightened. Red light pulsed overhead, flickering in time with the slow rhythm of the monsters’ breathing. Their shadows shifted across Derek’s trembling body like markings in a ritual, each movement purposeful, each inhale followed by a deep rumble of satisfaction. Then the spitting began. Warm droplets—thick, chemical, tingling—splattered onto Derek’s chest and shoulders, dripping down his ribs in slow trails that made his skin prickle. Each drop sent a pulse through him, echoing outward from the point of contact until his entire torso felt like it buzzed. He shuddered involuntarily. Gravestone noticed instantly. “Good boy,” he growled, voice curling into Derek’s mind like smoke through a cracked door. “That’s it. Take what we give you. Ride the rush of our spit and smoke filling you, letting your mind break gently.” Another monster spit. Heat spread. Derek’s breath quickened. He felt detached from himself—like the version of him who smoked cigars by the storm window, who joked upstairs with the guys, who insisted he wasn’t into submission—was slipping backward into some fog he couldn’t pull himself out of. The monsters continued their slow, ritualistic circle, filling his lungs with smoke and his mind with warmth. Each exhale pushed him closer to that tipping point, the place where resistance became too heavy to carry. Gravestone’s claws tightened around the back of his head, steadying him. “You’re breathing deeper now,” the creature observed, voice thick with approval. “You want this… even if you don’t know it yet.” Derek tried to deny it. But when the next plume of smoke washed over him, he inhaled without hesitation, diving in for more when one of the creatures took another deep inhale on its cigar. Gravestone chuckled—a low, indulgent growl that shook the air around them. “Good,” he murmured. “Be my little cigar pig. Show daddy how much you love fucking your lungs with smoke.” Derek’s pulse stuttered. His chest expanded. His resistance cracked—not broken, not shattered, but splintering under the weight of heat and breath and Gravestone’s relentless presence in his brain. Suddenly, the images started to trickle in. Derek, in a sling, smoking a fat cigar as Gravestone ushered men to feed him their smoke, to fuck him and fill him with their cum. Derek smiling happily and feeling Gravestone tell him how happy he was, how proud, how he wanted to see him please every man there. He barely felt as his jaw slowly fell open, drool slowly dripping out as Gravestone placed the cigar back into his mouth and closed his mouth for him. And Derek’s world narrowed to smoke, heat, and the feeling of something inside him leaning—slowly, dangerously—toward surrender. With one last puff, he felt it finally give, and he smiled, knowing exactly what he was meant to do next. Without a word, Derek crawled over to Gravestone and pulled the cigar out of his mouth after inhaling hard and deep, and let Gravestone begin to fuck his mouth, his massive cock worming its way down his throat and making his neck bulge. He felt as the copious amounts of tainted cum mixed with the cigar spit in his mouth, greedily gulping it down and smiling as he felt Gravestone gently begin to run his clawed fingers through his hair. With a growl, Gravestone shot his first full tainted load into Derek, watching as he moaned and gulped it down greedily. With an audible pop, he pulled out of his mouth and moved to behind Derek, sending countless more images mentally into his brain, smiling as he felt it start to stutter and shut down. The chamber seemed to hold its breath the moment Gravestone moved behind Derek with clear intent. The other monsters shifted outward in a wide, slow ripple, giving their second-in-command space. Their cigar embers glowed brighter, a ring of red eyes circling Derek’s trembling, smoke-flooded body. The Alpha watched from the shadows, silent and immense. Gravestone’s claws slid down Derek’s spine, steadying him with a grip that felt both possessive and inevitable. Derek’s breath trembled in his chest, lungs full of heat and smoke that made it difficult to think in straight lines. Every inhale fed the softness in his limbs; every exhale made the world blur a little more. “Easy,” Gravestone murmured, voice thick as molten rock. “You’re ready. It’s time for Daddy to convert you himself.” Derek shook his head weakly, but the protest dissolved into a thin, breathless sound. The warmth coursing through his veins tangled with the weight of Gravestone’s hands, drowning out what little clarity he had left. Gravestone positioned him, gently drooling out his potent saliva, smoky from the cigars. Gently, he slowly forced his massive cock deep into Derek, calmly running his sharp claws along his back, letting him tremble and puff hard on the cigar in his mouth. Slowly and steadily, he watched as Derek became more and more docile, before finally taking his chance and speeding up, quickly getting to a jackhammer speed, jabbing hard and fast. He smiled as Derek began to beg for Gravestone to claim him, to flood his insides, to make him his son. Letting out a groan, Gravestone shot his first load deep inside Derek and watched as it quickly flooded his body and began to take control. Derek gasped—shocked, overwhelmed, disoriented. Smoke rushed from his lips in a trembling plume, his fingers curling helplessly against the stone. His mind reeled, trying to cling to the last scraps of who he thought he was— I’m a top. I don’t— I’m not— But the heat flooding through him crushed the words before they could fully form. Gravestone growled with slow, brutal satisfaction, the sound vibrating through Derek’s spine. The other monsters echoed the sound, a low chorus that filled the chamber with ritualistic approval. Smoke drifted downward in swirling ribbons as they watched, bodies shifting in restless, anticipatory hunger. Derek’s thoughts thinned. Bent. Then bent further. Gravestone leaned close to Derek’s ear, his breath hot and thick with cigar smoke. “Good boy…” A rumble. “You take what you were meant for well. I am proud.” Derek shuddered, his resolve buckling under the pressure of sensation, heat, and Gravestone’s overwhelming presence. Every breath felt heavier than the last, weighted with smoke that pulled his mind deeper into that soft, pliant fog. He began to smile when Gravestone removed both of their cigars and locked lips, shoving his tongue down Derek’s throat and exhaled his smoke into him, growling as Derek clenched his hole down on his cock. From the shadows, the Alpha rose. The temperature seemed to drop and rise at once, the air tightening as the Alpha stepped into the dim ring of red light. His horns were longer than Gravestone’s, spiraling upward with jagged, ancient symmetry. His body dwarfed the others, every muscle carved like obsidian monoliths. The glow of his cigar burned fiercely. The monsters immediately lowered their heads. Even Gravestone’s rhythm slowed, his posture tightening in deference. The Alpha approached Derek with slow, devastating certainty. “He resists so much less now,” the Alpha observed, voice echoing in the air and in Derek’s skull simultaneously. “Well done, Gravestone. He bends beautifully. He will be yours to own and consume now. Just remember to share.” Gravestone growled, pride evident even in the rumble. Derek tried to lift his head—to pull away—to salvage something of himself—but the Alpha crouched beside him, one massive hand settling on Derek’s chest with terrifying gentleness. Derek froze. The weight of that touch wasn’t just physical. It pressed into his mind. Into his breath. Into the place where his resistance used to live. The Alpha tilted his head, studying him like a rare specimen. “You still breathe like one pretending to hold on,” he said softly—almost kindly. “But you came to us already wanting this.” Derek’s heart raced, panic surging—but it drowned instantly under another rush of smoke and heat. The Alpha raised one clawed hand, resting it on Derek’s cheek. The touch was warm. Heavy. Commanding. “Gravestone has opened you,” the Alpha murmured. “But I will finish it.” Gravestone growled low in agreement, tightening his hold on Derek—stabilizing him, presenting him. Derek’s mind flickered, desperate, frightened, overwhelmed— and then the fog swallowed the flicker whole. The Alpha leaned closer, cigar ember glowing like a miniature sun. Derek mindlessly let himself be positioned perfectly by Gravestone, rolling onto his back and quietly taking Gravestone’s still hard and dripping cock into his mouth and nursing gently on it as Gravestone rested his knees on his shoulders, giving the Alpha fully access to Derek’s and wrecked and dripping ass, and slowly began to suck on Derek’s cock, ready to slurp down the remaining load of cum from his cock as his master claimed him. With gusto, the Alpha firmly gripped Derek’s firm ass and slammed hard and fast, hauling on his cigar and growling as he furiously began to slam as hard and fast as he could, grinning as he could hear Derek’s muffled cries around Gravestone’s cock, feeling as the walls of his guts readily moved out of his way, legs spreading further and allowing him access to begin spanking Derek as he fucked him. Each smack made Derek’s ass clench and after just a few short minutes, he felt the Alpha let out a deep, guttural growl and begin to shoot volley after volley of black thick jizz into his ass. The sensation and sudden mental praise flowing through his mind suddenly made him shudder and with one last firm suck from Gravestone, he choked out a cry and began shooting uncontrollably, his cock shooting over and over in an attempt to please his new cigar daddy, to feed him and nourish him, not even caring when his cock continued to shoot, with nothing more coming out be a few feeble drops and a painful ache in his balls. His final strands of resistance curled inward, melted, and vanished as the Alpha’s voice echoed inside him: “There. Now you belong to us.” Derek sagged entirely, consciousness wavering, breath ragged and smoky. Gravestone rumbled with deep satisfaction, his claws sliding supportively along Derek’s sides as he helped him sit upright. Almost on instinct, Derek stuck both cigars into his mouth, greedily sucking the smoke into his lungs as his mind began to change, craving the changes about to occur in his body, wanting to speed up his infection, to change, to transform. “Good boy, that’s Daddy’s good little pig. Make sure to take all these nice men’s loads in your tight boyhole and you’ll become perfect,” he growled. “Fuck, I want every one of them to infect me,” Derek groaned around the cigars, already wanting to crawl over and offer his ass to each and every one, to memorize the shape of their dick in his ass, to swap smoke with them and feel each one add their own potent load to his guts, making him change even faster. He now knew his true purpose. To feed the virus now consuming him and to provide comfort and a warm nourishing place for their Alpha’s strain. The Alpha nodded once, pleased. He gently ran his clawed hand through Derek’s hair, like one would pet a dog. “Yes. Let the rest of your new brothers share their loads in your firm ass to aid my seed and then you may sleep. You will remain smaller and not show the signs like the others, but will be better equipped to take our loads and draw in our prey with your pretty face and splendid features. A perfect pet for me and my commander.” His hand pressed gently to Derek’s forehead— and the world folded into grey, a pleased smile on his face.

Pretty much all bugs I’ve gonno many timeS, syphilis 3 times and heo C a year ago Comes with my slamming and the guys I hook up with. I usually don’t tread them straight away. If I get them I want to breed them. After a while I get them treated. Long long raw sessions with sleazy guys and irs a given you’ll get STDs every so often, it doesn’t bother me . Risky raw feels so good

Chapter 1 -- Gifting Season Noah drifted toward consciousness as though rising through layers of thick, warm water. His mind floated somewhere above his body, disconnected and sluggish, and for several moments he hovered between dreaming and waking without understanding which was which. A heavy heat curled low in his stomach, radiating outward through his limbs, turning every inch of his skin oversensitive and flushed. His head felt thick, dense, as if cotton had been stuffed behind his eyes and pressed gently against the inside of his skull. The sensation was unfamiliar but not entirely alien—like a drug high he couldn’t quite place, only magnified and distorted. He groaned softly and shifted without thinking, only to jolt sharply at the sudden rush of cold air sweeping across his bare skin. Every part of him. The realization slammed into him a heartbeat later, and he blinked rapidly, confusion giving way to alarm as he became acutely aware that nothing covered him. No clothing. No blanket. Not even the cheap fleece throw he’d passed out under during movie nights. His breath caught as he forced himself fully awake, heart stumbling into a faster rhythm. He was naked. Completely, utterly, inarguably naked in a place that was definitely not the Phi Alpha Gamma living room. The world around him resolved slowly into a dim, blurry chamber. Rough stone walls pressed in close, dark and wet-looking, glistening with beads of moisture that caught the weak red light overhead. The air was thick, humid, and unpleasantly warm—heavy enough that each breath felt slightly too dense, carrying a faint chemical tang that prickled the back of his tongue. Wispy strands of mist clung to the floor, rippling faintly with each uneven inhale Noah forced into his lungs. Red Christmas bulbs—old ones, big plastic ones like his grandmother used—hung in drooping arcs above him, strung together with sagging wires that looked decades old. Some flickered erratically, casting twitching shadows across the walls, while others pulsed faintly as though struggling to stay lit. The effect made the room seem alive, as if breathing alongside him. His shoulders ached with a dull, grinding pressure. When he tried to lower his arms, something bit sharply into the skin of his wrists. A startled breath escaped him, and he craned his neck upward to see thick strands of old Christmas lights wound tightly around his wrists, knotted over and over until the wires looked fused together. The same cords circled his ankles, holding his legs just far enough apart that there was no dignity left to cling to. The lights hummed faintly, warm against his skin in a way that felt almost biological—like there was a pulse moving through them. Panic surged through him, sharp and bright, but tangled immediately with a hot spark of anger. Hazing. It had to be hazing. Some stupid, charter-violating, archaic fraternity bullshit. He’d heard stories about other chapters doing things like this—blindfolding pledges, leaving them tied up in cold places, stripping them as some kind of psychological “test.” But Phi Alpha Gamma was not supposed to be one of those chapters. Derek had looked him in the eye when Noah rushed. Had promised this frat was different. “We don’t do that stuff here,” Derek had said. “I wouldn’t bring you in if we did. Trust me.” Trust me. The words curled bitterly in Noah’s thoughts. He yanked against the lights, teeth gritted, but the cords didn’t give at all. Instead, the wires dug deeper, almost tightening in response, and the sudden exertion sent the heat in his body spiraling upward. His head throbbed, vision blurring at the edges. His breath came too fast, too shallow, like his lungs couldn’t quite catch onto the rhythm his body needed. The warmth under his skin intensified—rolling waves that felt horribly familiar. A dizzy, tingly buzz bloomed behind his eyes, drifting down the back of his throat and into his chest. “Oh god,” he whispered, a tremor running through him. “This is like… like that night Porkchop dared me to try poppers…” Except stronger. Much stronger. Instead of a head rush, this sank deep into his bloodstream, blooming through every nerve until he felt unsteady, exposed, and frighteningly sensitive. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t a prank. Something had been on whatever hit him downstairs—something chemical and potent, something that made his body feel hot and loose and pliant in ways he didn’t want to think about. He forced his eyes shut, trying to steady his breath, attempting to pull himself back from the rising swell of panic. “Okay,” he muttered, voice trembling despite his effort to sound firm. “Just calm down. It’s a prank. It’s a fucked-up prank, but that’s all it is. You get out of this, and you’re reporting every single one of these idiots to the dean. Derek can explain himself later.” The words didn’t reassure him as much as he hoped. His breathing stayed shallow, and the heat coiling through him didn’t ease. His skin prickled with a hypersensitive awareness he didn’t want, tightening each breath into something sharp and uncomfortable. He opened his eyes again—and then froze. A sound drifted through the chamber. Not the click of Christmas bulbs. Not the distant groan of old pipes. Something else. Something alive. A long, slow, deliberate inhale. Then another. And another—each one slightly out of sync, as if more than one massive chest was expanding in the dark. Noah’s heart tripped over itself and stumbled into a faster, unsteady rhythm. He stared into the shadows beyond the weak circle of red light, vision blurring slightly despite his desperate attempt to focus. This wasn’t Derek. This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t human. “Derek?” he called again, though it came out barely above a breath. “Guys…? Okay, seriously… if this is some kind of joke—cut it out.” The chamber answered him with silence. And then, faintly, with a wet, clicking sound—like teeth shifting slowly against each other. A shiver raced up Noah’s spine. Whatever else was down here with him… had been watching him the entire time. And it was breathing. Waiting. Patient. The realization landed in his chest like a stone: This was not hazing. This was something else entirely. The breathing in the dark grew louder, deeper, no longer blending into the room’s ambient hum. Each inhale rolled through the chamber like it belonged to something large—several somethings. Noah’s pulse quickened as he strained to hear anything human, any hint that this was still a prank. But there were no voices, no nervous laughter, no Derek whispering “gotcha.” Only the slow, synchronized breathing of creatures too massive to hide. The first silhouette peeled itself from the darkness and stepped into the red glow of the sagging Christmas lights. Noah’s breath caught in his throat. The creature stood nearly seven feet tall, its body carved in smooth, unnatural muscle, obsidian skin gleaming like polished stone. Long, curved horns swept back from its skull, ridged and imposing, as if grown for battle. Its broad face was wrong in every way—sharp angles, too-long jaw, rows of glistening pointed teeth. Where eyes should have been, there were only dark, unreadable hollows. A second creature followed. Then a third. Soon seven of them stood before him in a wide semicircle, each subtly different in build or horn shape, but all sharing the same monstrous design. Their movements were controlled and deliberate, heavy enough that Noah felt faint vibrations through the floor. They didn’t attack. They simply observed him, massive chests rising and falling in quiet, predatory unison. Noah’s skin prickled as their attention fixed on him. Suspended by the warm, humming Christmas lights, he felt horribly exposed under their collective stare. Every tremor in his muscles, every unsteady breath—nothing escaped their notice. Then the entire group shifted, turning slightly toward the creature standing closest to Noah. This one moved differently. Its posture was disciplined, its breathing steady and measured. Its horns were sharper, curving back like twin blades. Even in stillness, it radiated a sense of practiced readiness, the controlled tension of something trained. A low ripple of growls passed through the others, almost like a chant, and a word rose from that rumble: “…Zero…” The name echoed against the stone, low and resonant. Noah felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know what Zero meant, but the way the others said it carried weight—deference, expectation, something close to ceremony. Zero tilted its horned head slightly, acknowledging the name, and the others quieted as though waiting for its next move. Noah swallowed hard, dread crawling into his bloodstream. The monster closest to him—the one standing just inside the edge of the red light, so close he could see the faint sheen of drool on its teeth—was Zero. Zero was not a title or a concept. Zero was the creature chosen for him. And Zero was stepping closer. Zero stepped closer with a slow, predatory deliberation that made the air in the chamber feel suddenly thinner. The other six tightened their semicircle behind him, drawing in around Noah with quiet, expectant growls. Their obsidian bodies shifted with a muted sheen, horns catching the red light in sharp, jagged silhouettes. Noah felt surrounded not just physically, but psychologically—boxed in, studied, assessed like prey that had already been chosen. The warm buzz in his veins spiked as Zero neared. Noah tried to pull back instinctively, but the Christmas lights only tightened around his wrists, holding him suspended and helpless. A new dizziness washed over him, deeper than before, clouding the edges of his awareness. His skin flushed in a sudden wave of heat, as if the creature’s proximity alone amplified whatever chemical was still working through his system. Zero leaned in until Noah could feel its breath against his cheek—humid, thick, and faintly acrid. Its chest expanded with a slow inhale, drawing in the scent of him as if cataloging every detail. Noah turned his face away with a strangled breath, heart hammering. “Please…” he whispered, though he wasn’t even sure what he intended to plead for. Zero responded with a soft rumble that vibrated through Noah’s ribcage. It wasn’t soothing, nor mocking—just a low acknowledgment, almost as though it approved of his fear. The monster’s clawed hand lifted, moving toward Noah with surprising steadiness, fingers flexing once before settling near his shoulder. The heat inside Noah pulsed harder. His head swam. His breath hitched. Zero touched him. He felt as Zero’s clawed fingers gently traced along his sides, his body twitching from fear and a strange sense of alien excitement. It slowly dipped down, fondling his cock and balls, giving it his hard cock a few firm tugs, Zero letting out an appreciative growl and smile as Noah let out a shocked gasp and moan, despite how terrified he was. The creature pulled its hand away for a brief moment and spit on its hand, the same foul liquid coating the fingers like slime. Satisfied, he then dipped his hand lower, before tracing around his hip leaving a trail and pressing several fingers into his asshole, the sharp nails almost expertly, the slimy saliva easily allowing them to penetrate his entrance. The reaction was instantaneous. Noah’s body jerked, his breath catching in a shocked, involuntary gasp. The chamber spun in slow, nauseating circles, red lights blurring into hazy smears above him. His stomach dipped, thighs trembling as a wave of dizzying warmth pushed down his spine. “No—stop—” he managed, voice thin and breathless. Zero didn’t stop. It merely adjusted, claws tracing along Noah’s chest with a terrifying precision, as if following a pattern only it knew. The chemical haze surged again, turning Noah’s limbs soft and uncooperative, weakening his voice into a hoarse whisper. The pack shifted closer in response. Not touching—yet—but watching, their unified stillness adding weight to the moment. Noah sensed a hierarchy at play, an order to their movements. Zero was performing a role, and the others were witnessing it. Another pulse of heat flashed through Noah’s bloodstream. His vision trembled at the edges. He had the horrible sensation that something inside him was beginning to yield—not by choice, but by chemical force. Zero growled again, deeper this time, and leaned in, pressing its forehead briefly against Noah’s, its horns framing his vision as his clawed fingers pushed deeper. The gesture wasn’t affectionate. It was claiming. And Noah felt the shift in the group— a collective anticipation— as Zero prepared to continue. Strangely, he felt numb to the fingers after a few moments, that same heat now spreading from his ass as the fingers were removed, now mostly dry. Without warning, he felt his legs get pulled upward, his weight evenly spread between the cord around his wrists and the monster’s grip around his now spread legs, straddling him as he felt the monster’s cock press tightly against his hole. He tried to struggle, before realizing what he was doing at the last second as the tight ring of muscle relaxed suddenly, causing him to suddenly sink hard and fast, penetrating him in one slick movement. He cried out, feeling the massive cock seating itself deep in his guts. The red lights flickered overhead, dimming momentarily as though reacting to the energy building in the room. Noah sagged harder into the restraints, his body wilting under Zero’s control, his mind fraying at the edges of panic and chemically amplified sensation. The pack’s breathing synchronized again—slow, steady, ritualistic. Zero’s claws tightened on Noah’s hips. The true ritual was only beginning. The effect on Noah’s body was immediate and overwhelming. A shudder passed through him, involuntary and intense, as though the heat inside him had been suddenly stoked into a sharper flame. His ribs strained with each breath, and his arms pulled weakly against the Christmas lights, the warm cords tightening in response as if adjusting to keep him perfectly in place. A low rumble spread through the semicircle of monsters. Not loud, but deep enough that Noah felt it reverberate in his bones. The six creatures behind Zero shifted closer, closing the gap between them until their obsidian bodies formed a near-solid wall of muscle, horns, and slow-moving breath. Their presence constricted the space, tightening the air around Noah until he felt boxed in from every angle. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady himself, but the chemical pulse running through his veins made everything feel thick and swimmy. When a fresh wave of warmth rippled through his abdomen, his head fell forward with a faint sound he didn’t recognize as his own. Zero’s claws rose to Noah’s waist, anchoring him again. Its breath rasped across Noah’s shoulder—hot, humid, wrong—and then it resumed its slow, ritualistic exploration. He felt as Zero slowly began to pull out, a small, hopeful part of his brain thinking it was over, that they were somehow stopping, when suddenly, Zero slammed hard and fast deep inside of him again, making him whimper. This continued a few more times, each time less painful and somehow more enjoyable. Soon, Zero was fucking him hard and fast, Noah no longer feeling pain but a strange pleasant pressure and burn deep inside him when Zero finally pulled him hard and fast down onto him in one final slam, shooting volley after volley of cum deep in his guts. Noah’s knees jerked reflexively, his whole body curling inward for a moment before the restraints forced him still again. His vision blurred around the edges, red lights melting together in a dizzy haze. The monsters’ collective breathing grew louder, more synchronized, like they were inhaling in perfect rhythm to Noah’s faltering breaths. Something shifted deeper in the chamber. Not movement. Not footsteps. Pressure. A heavy weight pressed down from somewhere unseen, a thickening of the air that made Noah’s lungs tighten. It felt like the moment before a storm breaks—static and anticipation and the sense of something vast drawing near. The other six monsters reacted immediately. Their growls softened, posture lowering, horns angling toward the far side of the room. Even Zero paused—not releasing Noah, but holding perfectly still, claws poised, as if awaiting judgment. Noah lifted his head in confusion, chest heaving. “What… what is that…?” he whispered, voice raw. None of the monsters answered. They didn’t need to. The air trembled again, heavier this time. Zero’s claws tightened on Noah in a silent assertion of possession, as if reminding him—and the others—that he was already claimed. A faint glow shifted in the darkness beyond the pack. Something massive was approaching. Zero leaned in close, breath rolling over Noah’s ear, and released a soft, resonant growl that felt almost like a warning: “The Alpha is coming.” The chamber thickened around Noah as the presence in the darkness approached—so potent and tangible it felt like pressure building inside his skull. The air turned heavy, humid, and strangely electric, making the red Christmas lights overhead flicker with an almost nervous pulse. Even the stone beneath him seemed to hum faintly, as if bracing for whatever was about to emerge. The pack sensed it instantly. The six monsters behind Zero lowered their heads, horns angling downward in a unified gesture of submission. Their bodies shifted apart just enough to form a clear path through their ranks, creating a corridor of shadows and anticipation. Zero remained closest to Noah, but even he moved slightly aside, still touching Noah yet no longer centered. His posture tightened in a way that felt almost formal—respectful, deferential. Noah felt the pressure before he saw the Alpha. A deep, resonant vibration slid into his awareness, not entirely sound, not entirely sensation. The hair on his arms lifted; his heart stumbled. The chemical warmth in his blood quivered, reacting instinctively to the new power entering the room. Noah tried to steady his breath, but the air itself seemed too dense, too hot, making each inhale a struggle. Then the Alpha stepped into view. He dwarfed the others—not just in height, though he was easily a foot taller than Zero, but in presence. His horns were longer, sweeping back in grand curves that made his silhouette impossibly striking. His pitch-black skin reflected the red lights in deeper, richer tones, muscles shifting beneath the surface like living stone. The air around him swirled as he moved, as though even the atmosphere recoiled and obeyed in the same breath. When his face fully entered the red glow, Noah felt something crack open inside him. The Alpha had eyes. Or something resembling them—deep, molten slashes of faint crimson light resting where the other monsters had hollows. They flickered subtly, almost like embers beneath soot, and when the Alpha looked directly at him, Noah’s whole body seized in a wave of overwhelming heat. Then Noah heard him. Not with his ears. Not with sound. Inside. Noah Vance. The name echoed through his mind as if spoken against the walls of his skull. Noah inhaled sharply, chest constricting, pulse leaping into a panicked rhythm. He shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear the voice. “Stop—please—get out of my head—” Zero released a low, warning growl beside him, sensing Noah’s rising panic. The Alpha silenced it with a single glance, and the room seemed to shudder at the shift in authority. The voice returned, deeper this time, sliding through Noah’s thoughts with a deliberate, predatory ease. You came down here alone. Curious. Unwatched. Unclaimed. “No,” Noah rasped, though the word barely held shape. “I—I didn’t know—please, I didn’t—” The Alpha stepped closer. Heat radiated from him in powerful waves, washing over Noah’s bare skin until he trembled under the weight of it. The flickering red lights cast shadows across the Alpha’s horns, drawing sharp lines down his face, accentuating the broad sweep of his jaw and the long, serrated teeth glistening beneath it. Another voice—this time spoken aloud, deep enough to rattle Noah’s chest—rolled out of the Alpha’s throat. “You should not have opened the way.” Noah blinked, dizzy and terrified. “What do you mean? I didn’t open anything—” The Alpha leaned closer, lowering his head until his horns framed Noah’s face. His breath washed over Noah in thick, consuming waves. Your brothers left a door unlocked. You walked straight into the dark. And we followed the cold you left behind. Noah’s pulse stumbled. The basement door— that old maintenance entry they’d all forgotten existed. Had it really been open? And had something been waiting for that? He tried to speak again, but the Alpha’s clawed hand rose, touching Noah’s jaw with shocking gentleness that contrasted violently with the situation. The chemical heat in Noah’s blood surged under the contact, almost as if responding to him. Zero stepped back fully now, lowering his head and yielding his place. The Alpha’s grip tightened. Noah felt the ritual shift. The first part was over. The second—far worse—was beginning. Slowly, each of the other monsters lined up as if orchestrated, and the next monster grabbed his legs, pulling him down by his hips forcefully, the cum from his brethren slickening the way. Each monster took its time, fucking him hard, fast and with earnest, flooding him deeply before moving out of the way for the next. After a while, Noah’s mind couldn’t take it anymore and mentally started begging for them to go harder, faster, to make it hurt. The heat inside Noah swelled into a blazing pulse that made his knees jerk and his breath fracture. His head dropped forward, the strength in his neck failing as waves of dizzy warmth passed through him. The Alpha’s voice curled through his mind again, softer now but far more intimate. You will not leave here unchanged. You were chosen. You will be remade. Noah shook uncontrollably, words failing him completely. The Alpha positioned him with terrifying ease. Suddenly, he felt as two of the other monsters, one he was sure was his maker, Zero, held him up by the legs, allowing the Alpha easier access to his hole, Zero’s long, almost serpentine tongue, licking and tasting the head of his leaking cock, before taking it deeply in his mouth. He could feel the dangerous brush of too sharp teeth threatening to slice into the delicate skin of his cock as Zero seemed to feast on the precum dripping out of him. The other monsters growled in a soft, unified rhythm, their horns angled forward, their bodies swaying slightly as though caught in a trance or feeding on Noah’s reactions. The Alpha’s final whisper pressed into Noah’s mind like a brand: This is the moment you break. And become ours. Noah choked on a breath and felt consciousness begin to slip. The ritual was not done. But his mind was already unraveling. The Alpha’s presence consumed everything—air, heat, sound, even thought. Noah hung suspended in the Christmas lights like an offering, his body limp, trembling, reacting to the chemical haze still burning steadily through his veins. Each breath felt fragile, caught between a sob and a gasp, the effort overwhelming even before the Alpha moved again. Zero and the other six had fallen silent, forming a curved wall around the two of them. Their horned silhouettes flickered with each pulse of the dim red bulbs, making them appear almost carved from shifting shadow. They were waiting—expectant, reverent, as though the ritual depended on the Alpha alone. The Alpha adjusted his grip on Noah’s hips, claws resting just firmly enough to remind him how easily he could be torn apart. Noah whimpered, a thin breath scraping from his throat despite his efforts to stay quiet. His head lolled forward, chin brushing his chest, sweat dripping in slow trails down his ribs. The Alpha’s voice touched his mind again—no louder than a murmur, but heavy with certainty. Do not resist the change. Let it take you. Noah tried to shake his head, a weak, pitiful motion. “I—I don’t want—please—” His plea dissolved into a broken sound as the Alpha positioned him. Suddenly, he felt as the Alpha began to penetrate his already abused and cum flooded hole. The already battered flesh strained to accommodate the massive demonic looking cock. The reaction inside Noah was instant and catastrophic. His body arched against the restraints, breath ripped from him in a raw, involuntary gasp. The chemical heat exploded through his abdomen, spreading into his limbs like molten electricity. His legs shook violently, barely held steady by the arms binding his ankles. As they shook, the string of Christmas lights clacked against each other in a weird, macabre percussive symphony. Each pulse inside him felt heavier, deeper, striking through him again and again until he no longer knew if he was crying out or if the sound was only in his head. The Alpha growled low in his ear, voice rumbling through both the air and Noah’s bones. Good. You are yielding. Let me in fully, Noah Vance. Noah’s mouth opened, a fractured sound spilling out, half protest, half overwhelmed surrender. His vision blurred, red lights stretching into smeared halos. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think past the waves of heat crashing through him. He looked down and could see the end of the Alpha’s dick causing his flat stomach to bulge out, his insides feeling like they were being rearranged. His consciousness wavered. Reality thinned around the edges. Everything became sensation—heat, pressure, trembling muscle, the Alpha’s claws keeping him steady, the deep vibration of monstrous voices rising and falling around him. The pack’s growls shifted into a rhythmic cadence, almost a chant, synchronized with Noah’s ragged breaths. The Alpha’s mind pressed harder into his. You will remember this in your blood. You will wake differently. Mine. It is time to release your seed for your brother and maker Zero. Show him your thanks for this gift. The final surge hit Noah like a blow, tearing through the remnants of his resistance. He convulsed, heat piercing him from within, flooding outward until he felt like his body was no longer a separate thing from the Alpha’s hold. Then— he felt the second the Alpha began to fuck him. Slamming hard and fast, making it feel as if his insides were being ripped apart, his asshole being split in two. It went on mercilessly for several minutes until he finally felt it. The Alpha’s cock was like a firehose inside his guts, flooding him with an obscene amount of tainted cum, finally driving him over the edge as Zero greedily sucked every drop out of his throbbing dick. Somehow, part of him knew that Zero and the rest would enjoy the taste of his pure untainted cum, that it would feed and nourish them for the night ahead. His mind warped and he felt as more and more cum shot out of him, fueled by the thoughts of wanting to empty himself of his useless seed to make room for more, to feel as his cum became tainted and corrupted, his veins bulging and darkening and then his skin turning black. His body would become stronger, taller, leaner and more muscular. His cock would grow longer and thicker, his balls larger and heavier, no longer just for sperm but as the perfect place for the virus to incubate. To feel his own set of horns sprout fully out of his head and his teeth sharpen. To feed and be fed from his new brothers to make his transformation take even faster. Of joining the hunt as they sought out new uncorrupted men to infect and turn. The heat spiked once more, blinding and total. Noah cried out—a raw, hoarse, broken noise—and then his entire body sagged, all strength leaving him at once. His consciousness flickered, dipped, fought to stay afloat… and finally lost. The Alpha held him suspended for another moment, claws steady and secure. Noah’s head fell against the creature’s chest, eyes half-open but unseeing. A lazy smile spread across his face. A satisfied growl rolled through the chamber, answered by the low rumbling of the pack. The ritual was complete. Noah’s last dim sensation was the Alpha lowering him slightly, pulling its still bloated cock out of his ass and letting a small trickle of black cum out of his destroyed ass. The Christmas lights adjusting their hold as though alive, cradling him into a suspended, slack-limbed sleep. Then darkness folded him under. — The movie upstairs had finished long ago, a new movie picked from the fishbowl in its place. Empty beer cans clattered as someone shifted on the couch. The storm battered the windows with a steady, rising howl. Evan checked his phone for the tenth time, frowning. “Noah’s been down there for almost two hours,” he muttered. Zach shrugged, but his expression was tight. “He probably fell asleep behind the furnace.” Bran didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the basement door—ominous, still, the faintest cold draft curling out from underneath it. Finally he exhaled. “Enough. Someone’s going down there.” The others fell silent. And beneath them, far below the floorboards, the chamber’s red lights pulsed once—bright, then dimming again. As if settling. As if briefly satisfied.

After it was dark and I could reduce the chance of people truly realizing the state I was in (looking like a total cumslut and partier), I had to walk the dog again. I didn't want to be out long mostly because it's windy as fuck and I'm tired from the fucking and partying. But regardless I do the same loop twice each day which passes by where I found the junkies yesterday. Come to think of it it's where I've noticed this every day, but just not thought anything of it. There they were again - at least two of them. The first guy that fucked me and the third guy who was too high to finish. I looked ridiculous with a giant puffy coat, baseball cap, face mask...but I walked over thinking "round two could be a good way to close the day." I walked up to them and started speaking semi quietly telling them I could give them more stuff if they wanted to go for round two. They looked at me like I was insane and then I realized they probably could recognize me (despite the dog). I took off the mask and cap and they realized what was going on. Let us go find our friend though so we don't leave him behind (they said he was off picking something up...). We agreed they'd text when they were ready to get in to the building. They indeed found their friend, showed up, I've got them a small baggie, and I got two quick, transaction, no bullshit loads back to back. This time it was #1 and #3 who came. #2 wasn't feeling it. IF THIS WORKS OUT and they hold their post in the small park in front of Whole Foods, I could have 1-3 built in loads whenever I want them for a very small price. 🙂

Freshman Project: Jason (Part 9) Blake woke up on Sunday afternoon and reached out to wrap his arm around Jason, but the bed was empty. Conflicting thoughts ran through the jock’s head. He remembered almost everything that happened the night before and he was both excited and a little concerned. Ecstasy always made him a little emotional, but he had never before told anyone he loved them, not even Coach. Coach was the man he had devoted his life to and done whatever the man had ordered him to do, but he loved Coach like a father, not someone he loved as a partner. Blake had a bond with Aiden, but he didn’t love the sophomore. The boy had been fun to take under his wing and turn into a slut, but it was not the same connection he had developed with Jason. Did he actually love Jason, or had that just been the drugs talking he wondered. Did Jason love him, and would the boy still feel the same way this morning about taking multiple toxic loads from him last night? Had Jason run off this morning in regret as soon as he woke up? So many questions were running through Blake’s mind, and many of them were new territory of him. The jock got up and exited his bedroom. He heard some noise from the kitchen, which did not take much in his small one bedroom apartment to notice. Apparently Jason had not fled. Blake wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Master. Coffee is ready, I’ll get you a cup, and the bacon and eggs will be ready in just a few minutes,” said Jason. The boy was naked except for his chastity cage as he slid along the counter to the coffee pot and poured a cup of coffee for Blake. He added just a small amount of cream, which is how Blake liked his coffee, then turned and brought the cup to Blake. Blake grabbed the coffee and took a drink. He hoped it would jump start his mind and allow him to figure out what was going on. “Good morning, Jason,” he finally managed to get out. “Did I put your cage back on last night?” he asked. “No Sir, but I when I work up this morning, I figured you would want it back on since you only took it off me last night so I could play with myself on the E. Thank for that Sir. I’ve gotten used to the cage and I like it on because it reminds me of my place as your Boy, I hope I didn’t do anything wrong Sir?” said Jason, hoping he hadn’t done anything wrong. “No Boy, it is fine. I’m glad you put it back on, you saved me the effort,” said Blake trying to cover for his surprise at finding it on Jason. “I’m going to go take a shower, have breakfast ready for me when I get back and we’ll talk more over breakfast,” said Blake as he tried to regain control over the situation. “Yes Master,” responded Jason as he turned back to the stove and tended the eggs. Blake’s eyes lingered over the V of the boy’s back as it joined his ass. He shook his head to break the spell this twink had apparently cast over him and headed to his shower. He entered his bathroom then warmed up the water till it was comfortable, then jumped under the spray. As he stood under the spray of the shower he thought about why he had gotten so attached to Jason. He was self aware enough to know to that he had a strong connection with each of the college boys he had converted, but none had been like this. He still occasionally saw Charlie and Ian as he supplied them with drugs to sell and collected their proceeds, but both young men had gone on to be sluts in different ways. While they still worked for Blake and Coach as dealers and whores under Blake’s direction, Blake was not fucking either one regularly. They both had found older Daddies that were their focus sexually. Aiden was still someone he would consider his Boy, but as Blake showered and got that clarity that sometimes come with shower thoughts, he realized that Aiden would be just fine without him. Jason on the other hand needed him in a way the others never had. The boy was just so naturally submissive and there was something that appealed to Blake in that regard. He had been unlocking the inner slut in boys these last few years, but he had been doing it because Coach told him to, now though, there was something about Jason that just hit differently. “Master, your breakfast is ready,” called Jason from the kitchen. The boy’s call broke Blake out of his deep thoughts over the Jason and the other boys. He quickly finished rinsing off then dried himself off with a towel. Before heading out to the kitchen naked, he went back to his room and pulled two bottles out of his nightstand. There were eggs, bacon, buttered toast, a fresh cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice sitting on the table for Blake when he entered the kitchen. It was set for one person, even though there was enough food on the plate for two. Blake sat down in the chair. As soon as he was seated, Jason knelt down beside him, “I hope Sir likes.” Blake set the bottles down on the table, then looked down at the twink that was on his knees next to him, “Yes, I do like it Boy. I could get used to waking up to this. But we need to talk, please sit at the table with me and grab yourself a plate. We need to talk about last night, not as Master and Servant, but as friends, hopefully.” Panic flashed across Jason’s face, his first instinct was that now that Blake had fucked him, he was going to dump him. He tried to regain his composure as he pulled himself up off the ground, grabbed a plate from the cabinet and then sat in the chair opposite of Blake at the small table. He couldn’t bring himself to speak and stared down at his empty plate. Blake grabbed the two pill bottles and pushed them towards Jason. “We touched it on last night, but I feel we need to talk about this now, when both of us aren’t rolling. I’m HIV positive and I haven’t taken any medications in a few months, so I’m infectious. I care for you and I want to make sure I am not pressuring you into anything you don’t want. So these pills, which Charlie got me from the health clinic, are a full course of PEP, post exposure prophylaxis. I remember putting at least two loads into you last, and there may have been a third. You said you wanted them at the time, but now in the cold light of day, I’m offering you the opportunity to treat yourself, just in case I infected you last night and you’ve changed your mind.” Jason gave Blake a confused look, “I knew what was happening last night, I wanted it. Do you no longer want me?” “I want you, I want to be with you, but I don’t want you ever regretting your decision. I don’t want you, years from now blaming me, and saying I took advantage of you while you were high, I never want you to ever regret what we did,” explained Blake. “Blake, I will do whatever you say, including taking every toxic load you will give me, but I want you to know, I’m doing so because I want to. I want to obey you, it makes me feel like I’ve found my purpose in life. I’ve spent my life obeying my father, his Pastor, my mother, my teachers, basically anyone with authority. I know what it feels like to obey someone when you don’t want to, with you it feels different. With you I’m not just obeying you, I’m submitting to you, willingly. It feels right for the first time in my life. I feel like I’m no longer pretending to be someone else. I’m my true self finally. I don’t just not care that you are infecting me, I want it. I want to belong to you, I need it. Now, being honest, if you are just using me and want to make me another mark on your scorecard, if you don’t care about me the same way I care about you, if you don’t want to own me, now and forever as you said last night, well I’ll take those and we can go our own ways. I hope you will still by my friend and maybe help me find someone that will want me to be theirs. If you do want me to be yours though, now and forever, then go ahead and dump those down the drain cause there is nothing more than I want, than to have a part of you inside me forever, even if it is a potentially deadly virus. I want to be yours, now and forever,” said Jason, as he fought back tears in his eyes. Blake’s cock was rock hard. “Boy, grab those bottles, open them, and take out one pill from each bottle into your hand,” said Blake, his voice clearly indicating he was back in ‘Master’ mode. “Yes Sir,” answered Jason still not sure exactly what Blake’s answer was. Even though he wasn’t sure what was going on, he obeyed. He opened the bottles, and took a pill from each in his hand. His mind was racing, was this Blake’s way of dumping him, was he going to order him to take today’s dose of PEP instead of just coming out and saying he didn’t want him. “Now go over to the sink and turn on the water,” Blake commanded. Jason did as he was order. As soon as the boy got up, Blake grabbed the bottles and followed Jason to the sink. Jason turned on the water, the pills in his hand. He was devastated as he felt that Blake was about to order him to take the pills as the older boy’s way of letting him know that he had just been using him. Instead, Blake used his left hand to push Jason’s torso down, bending the boy over the sink. He set the bottles in his right hand down on the counter next to the sink, then used the hand to line his cock up with Jason’s hole. He roughly shoved his dry cock into Jason’s asshole. “You’re mine Bitch,” growled Blake as worked his cock all the way into Jason’s tender ass, which was still a bit sore from last night. Still it had the remains of Blake’s cum and the lube from the night before which helped a bit to ease the passage of Blake’s thick nine and half inch cock into the Jason’s ass. Once Blake had bottomed out in twink’s ass, he leaned in so his mouth was next to Jason’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you slow so that you have enough time to drop a round of pills into the garbage disposal each time I bottom out. I’m going to fuck you until both those bottles are empty. You understand me Bitch Boy?” He asked. “Yes Sir,” said Jason as he wiggled his ass, doing his best to adjust the position of his ass to accommodate Blake’s thick cock. He dropped the pills in his hand down into the drain with garbage disposal. “Good Boy! Here I’ll help you,” said Blake as he reached over and knocked over the pill bottles, spilling the contents over the counter. “Now grab some more and watch your chance at avoiding becoming positive go down the drain,” said Blake as he slide his cock almost all the way out. As soon as Jason grabbed a handle of pills, he started slowly thrusting back in and timed it so that he bottomed out with a hard extra little push as he saw Jason drop his handful of pills down the drain. “You are going to stay here the next couple weeks, only leaving to go to your classes, you’re quitting that shit cafeteria job; you’re my Boy now,” said Blake as he pulled back and waited until Jason had grabbed more pills off the counter. “Dump those,” he said as he started sliding back in the twink’s tight but no longer virgin hole. When Jason dropped the pills into the sink, Blake finished his thrust with a hard push, making sure all of his thick hard cock was up inside the twink. Jason was enjoying the rough slow fuck. Sure Blake was ordering him to drop the pills into the sink with each thrust, but Jason realized he was actually in control of this fuck. While his first handful had been whatever he could grab, by his third he was only grabbing a couple pills to drop with each thrust. By the fourth thrust, it was obvious to both of them what was happening and who was now driving this fuck as Jason was quickly grabbing one pill at time and throwing it into the sink as fast as he could. “Please Sir, give me your toxic load, poz me, convert me, make me yours forever,” begged Jason as he did his best to quickly drop pill after pill into the sink. Blake for his part was enjoying trying to time his thrust with Jason feeding pills into the sink. Eventually both young men gave up on the pretense of the scene as Blake started thrusting hard and fast into Jason’s ass. Jason for his part just swept the rest of the pills off the counter and into the sink. While Blake had come a few times last night, Jason had not. He had enjoyed himself and felt ecstatic bliss while getting fucked while rolling on ecstasy as he had several anal orgasms, but he didn’t have a true ejaculatory climax. This fuck though was doing it for him now that he was no longer tripping. Every time Blake thrust in he was hitting the boy’s prostate. The whole scene was so hot for both of them and Jason soon realized he was about to cum. “Sir, please permission to cum, please Sir,” he begged. “Yes Boy, cum for me, shoot that load, show me how much you want to be mine and carry my virus in you. Shoot for me Boy,” responded Blake as he started thrusting harder into the twink. It wasn’t long before he felt Jason’s asshole spasm around his cock as cum started pouring out of the boy’s caged cock. Blake reached down and grabbed the boy’s cock as soon as he started to feel the boy’s ass contracting around his cock. The chastity cage was on and keeping the boy’s cock from expanding outward, but the boy’s cock was firm and pushing the cage outward with most of the boy’s erection still inside the boy’s crotch. Blake collected the rest of the boy’s load into his hand. Once he was sure the boy was done cumming he brought his cum soaked hand up to Jason’s mouth. “Here Boy, eat one of your last negative loads. I’m going to be there and make sure you eat all your last negative loads before you are truly pregnant with my babies,” growled Blake as he place his cum covered hand over Jason’s mouth. Jason did his best to lick up as much of his own cum as he could. Soon though he felt his real reward as Blake grabbed his hips and thrust hard into him then held his cock there as the older boy started cumming. Jason smiled as he felt his Master’s cock unloading another toxic inside his unprotected ass. As Blake grunted and ground his crotch against his Boy’s ass, Jason reached over and turned the garbage disposal on to destroy the PEP pills.

Part 8 Behind me was an image that will be scarred into my psyche the rest of my life. It had to be a mask, but it looked so….real. The image staring back was that of the Devil himself, blood red with horns. The eyes were also red, and staring back at me, almost to my soul. “Look down Joey. Look what will be your destruction. Or your Salvation. Only you can determine that.” I struggled to break eye contact and moved down slowly. At the developed chest, which normally would turn me on, the nipples were surrounded by blood red bio-hazard markings. “Look closely.” At that command, I saw them. On each tattoo, on the downward points, were laughing skull tattoos. Each nipple was pierced with a very painful looking piercing, what looked like miniature spurs hanging from each side. I shuddered in fear, and the Devil grinned. “They are as sharp as you think. Keep going, boy.” I moved my eyes further and saw a paunch gut, not too big, but definitely more than I’d find attractive. “Count.” I noticed red hash marks, in groups of five, tattooed from his chest almost half way down his stomach. My final count came to 98. I looked back to his face, but was greeted with a severe slap across the face. “I did not give you permission to look upon my face.” “Lower.” As my eyes reached his cock, they spread further in terror at what I was seeing. The cock looked to be about 9” long, maybe more. But the length was nothing compared to the size around. Soda can is the best I could compare it to at it’s biggest. Even worse was the horror at the tip. A blood red ring pierced through the head of his cock and again, the laughing devil image, this one looking up at me form the front of the ring. “You better hope your cunt can stretch, because Luc will be ripping you open and will bring the rest of my cock with it.” Seeing the terror, and question, in my eyes, he said, “Luc is the skull. Short for Lucifer. My personal Master. He who I serve and who gifted me with my special gift.” This was now, officially, the beginning of my own personal hell. “Spread his ass for me, boy.”

Jerked to this a bit today and I contend that Pigs at the Troff is not only a great porn, but certainly the greatest watersports focused porn ever made. If I had a list of top 5 pornos I wish I could transport back and be in, this would be #2. I also think DickWadd managed to do verbal better than any other studio has ever done since. It could be tailored a little more and a little less "yeah yeah yeah" but they are saying other things too, and it's hot an additive. Now we just get thrusting moans with TIM and the very occasional and faint "you want this poz cum" every 30th scene or so. Take the DickWadd style of verbal and update it, turn it in to PozTalk, it would be amazing. Sad that the venue where the movie was shot and the corresponding event "Fort Troff Maneuvers" is no longer around. This movie gave me a lot of ideas of things I wanted to try (buttplug with funnel e.g.) that fortunately I've been able to cross a lot off of. (Being locked in a dog cage for several days getting dick in my hole and piss in my mouth being another....)

I feel like I got fucked so hard and so deep I can actually taste the loads in my hole in the back of my mouth...

I researched this a little bit and while it is illegal for a father/son the fuck, they are the ones committing a crime and not a third party. As such, I'll go ahead and say that I do have a deep fantasy about fucking around with a father/son (of legal age and consenting). Shoot me. Not gonna waste a ton of time looking for it, but if I were to happen I'd be rock hard and dripping immediately.

Best single session was 23 during MAL several years ago. Best 24 hour was 43 during that same MAL. Have done quite a few 10+ nights, usually at a Cumunion or Horsemarket or other fuck party.

Damn, I can't believe it's been 5 years since I finished writing Joey's story. I hadn't even thought about it until last night. After rereading this from the start, i remembered how much fun it was telling Joey's story. Sadly, it also made me realize something else: whatever happened to the guys who were pulled into Joey's orbit? Brian, from the gloryhole, who in under two hours had gone from wannabe top, to his conversion to Bitch. What happened with him after being put in Joey's clothes? Sweet, innocent teenager dad Marcus? Did Shawn do anything with those videos? Did he go back and have fun with Marcus? Pathetic closet fag, Ralph. Virgin until meeting and fucking Joey, though needing to be humiliated into what may have been his first, and possibly last, time on top? Did Ralphieboy contact Jeff and Fernando? Did he stay in the dorm and replace Joey as the communal cumdump? Were there more colors of jockstraps and might they have been his way of being a faggot fan of certain activities? Should I explore these faggot's stories? You guys tell me

Last night. Went to the sauna. There were not so many raw tops. Took 1 raw cock. It was a top with a long but not so thick cock. He fucked me hard, deep and long. After a while I heard him coming and he was moaning for at leat 10 strokes. He said that he dumped a very big load in me. I pushed it out and it was true. The cum was flowing out my hole and over my balls. I could push six times and cum was still ouzing out of my hole. Later that evening I went to the Cuckoos nest and was fucked raw 3 times. One short fuck and two longs fucks in the darkroom. One of them was a black guy with a big cock. After 30 minutes of fucking he pushed a few vingers in my ass. He wanted to fist me. We went to a cabin and he punch fisted me. After a while he wanted to fuck, but he didn' t last long and blew a vey big load inside me. This one was as big as the one I received earlier in the sauna. The cellar of the Cuckoos nest was not crowded anymore and I went to the sauna again. With a re-entry ticket it is cheap to enter the sauna again. There was very liitle fucking going one. In the darkroom near the slings, stood a top with an average cock. I stood in front of him and guided his cock in my ass and he fucked me. I asked him if he wanted to fuck me in the bigger darkroom. He fucked me for a bit, when I noticed sonebody was standing behind him. The top stopped fucking me and the guy who was standing behind him, thrusted his cock very hard in my ass. He fucked me hard, and suddenly stopped. Maybe he came in my ass? He actualy did. I pushed a big load out of my ass. It was not as big as the other two, but big enough. Normally I get fucked more in one evening, but I was happy. Three fucks were really long with two very big loads.

For some reason this gets my dick going. [think before following links] https://barebackbastards.com/83569/verbal-twink-slut-isn-t-ready-for-daddy-s-cum/

I was sure I had posted about my journey with my dad, but after scrolling through these responses, I apparently have not. I call myself an ORAL COCK WORSHIPER, a name my first partner gave me when we broke up. A compliment of sorts at a painful time. I credit my dad with helping focus me on cock at an early age. We never had sex, but he was a total straight guy with a big thick meaty cut cock that he loved showing off. We had this thing in the summer months when my mom and sister weren't around. He'd ask me if I wanted to watch TV and I knew that that meant. He would meet with in the "rec" room wearing boxer briefs and a t-shirt. He would sit on the sofa with his legs up on the coffee table and I would lay down next to him and lay my head on his crotch. I was maybe 12 and I was in heaven. He would start engorging and rubbing it against my cheek. I would get so turned on that one time I came in my shorts. Most of the time I had to run to the bathroom to jack off. Always to return for at least another round of the same. He totally loved the game. He would also come into my room when I was in bed dressed in the same way, his bulge so close I could reach out and grab it. But I didn't. But to this day, dad's bulge and cock are the genesis of my entire sexual focus and obsession. Dads are the best.

I stood there, in front of G, doing my best impression of a stare down, unaware of the events I'd set in motion. He sat there for a moment, his eyes locked on mine, and for a tense few seconds we waited to see who would blink first. He did. He busted out laughing, and I followed suit. "You should have seen the look on your face!" he said, laughing that deep laugh that seemed to match the body and the man. "You were fucking adorable trying to be all serious!" He kept on laughing. I couldn't help laughing a bit myself, and I fired back, "well, I didn't think you actually would." "Oh really? I figured you were just teasing me, standing there, with that noticeable boner pushing through your shorts." Wait, what? I looked down, and sure enough, the front of my shorts betrayed the fact that my mind had moved to the sexual train of thought. I looked back at him, our eyes locking again, and suddenly neither of us was laughing; a sexual tension had fallen over us as a hush seemed to follow. With his eyes still locked on mine, G slowly stood, and took a step forward, moving almost face to face with me. The silence in the moment, the closeness, the scent of a man who had been exerting himself physically... it was almost unbearable. My heart had begun to race and I felt myself getting weak in the knees. G slowly knelt, and reaching in front of him, up under the light shirt I had on, and his fingers pried their way inside the waistband of the tennis shorts I had thrown on. I was commando, not having bothered with any underwear since I don't like how they begin chaffing when you get all wet and sweaty on a run. With a firm and hard tug, he yanked my shorts down to my ankles, and my cock sprung up in his face. His head timed it's forward movement perfectly, and he swallowed my growing dick to the root in one swift gulp. All six-and-a-half, soon to be seven-and-a-half uncut inches. His warm mouth sealed itself around the base, and I felt the lightning bolts explode to every corner of my body as my hormones super-charged my libido. I moaned, and felt my legs start to give. But G must have sensed it too, and his thick arms swiftly wrapped themselves around my thighs, proving everything from my waste up with stability. Nevertheless, I felt my hands land on either side of the top of his head as I instinctively leaned forward a bit and steadied myself. He began to slowly move his mouth back and forth along the length of my shaft, slowly massaging it with his tongue as he went. When he'd pull back to the head of my cock, I'd feel his tongue flicking around the foreskin that slid back and forth over my tip. It was fortunate for me that he had strong arms and my legs in a bear hug, because I was quickly turning to putty as the sensation of erotic warmth that engulfed my cock threatened to overwhelm me. He worked my cock for a time, how long I didn't know... or care. The lust had taken me over, and I found my hips beginning to match his mouth's motion. We continued our rythym for a bit, and the eternity I had gone without sexual contact with another man began to take it's toll as I felt my balls slowly begin to draw up. And G must have sensed it, because he slowed his motion and gradually came to a stop, sliding his mouth back off my rock-hard member. I was all but panting and he rose back to standing as slowly and deliberately as he had dropped in front of me, and he leaned forward and laid the most passionate, deep-tongued kiss on me that I had ever experienced. After a few seconds of that, he pulled his head back, and whispered, bend forward and put your hands on the tree. I did as he asked. My hands reached out for the fallen trunk, and I shuffled forward a bit to keep myself from having to reach too far. My shorts were around my ankles, making it impossible to take a normal step forward. G stepped around behind me and I heard him kneel behind me, and felt his warm breath on my ass. I felt his hands, warm and moist from the sweat and light humidity of the hike and the evening, grab both of my ass cheeks and pry them apart. His face moved into the opening it created, and I nearly jumped from the initial tickling effect of his short, trimmed goatee contacting the sensitive skin around my hole. But that was nothing compared to the next sensation I felt. His tongue made contact right on the puckering of my hole, and the lightning bolts again exploded into every recess of my extremities. I felt the tip of his tongue dance around my rear entrance, and I couldn't keep it in any longer; I softly moaned as my head fell down between and below my forward-stretched arms. I saw my cock, still rock hard, pointing straight out, rigid and with a generous strand of precum escaping the slit that was just visible in the small, visible spot of my tip that my foreskin exposed in its slightly-pulled back state. He began to slobber on my hole, there was no other way to describe it. So much saliva was being deposited in my ass crack, and he gradually zeroed back in on my hole, and--briefly pausing as the tip of his tongue lined up with my puckered backdoor--thrust forward into my chute. I was in bliss. He kept thrusting his tongue into my hole, almost as if his tongue were a dick. He had a good rhythm going, and I could feel my inner passage become slick with his spit. I heard jingling behind me, and figured he was unbuckling the belt that held up his shorts to free his own cock so he could jerk off. I looked through the narrow gap between my legs and saw him release the belt buckle, and with one hand unbutton his shorts. He fished passed the zipper, pushing it down, and pulled out his cock--clearly I wasn't the only one who had decided to leave the house sans undergarment. The cock he produced fit him to a T, swelling to a very thick eight uncut inches. He had, as I did, and ample foreskin that covered most of his head even hard. It quickly swelled to it's full size and began drooling as much as mine was. Through all this, his tongue never lost contact with my ass, and I closed my eyes and allowed my head to simply hang, giving myself over the the sensations that overpowered me. He continued his steady drive into my hole for a few more minutes and I could feel him getting deeper and deeper as every muscle in my body relaxed. I was in sexual bliss, and for a moment didn't even notice him remove his tongue and come to his feet. It was his big, beefy hand touching the small of my back that gave me the first indication something had changed. And before my brain could catch up, his drooling, uncut head was pressing into my ass. He slid in with ease, lodging a good 6" in my ass with no resistance. I had always been a bit tight when Shawn had been in the mood--which wasn't often--so I was amazed at how effortlessly he entered me. With a gentle additional thrust, I felt his hefty balls come to rest against mine: I was impaled on his pole. And I was in heaven. My mind was in a sexual fog as he slowly pulled back and slid forward again, pausing before repeating the motion. Over and over, he slowly picked up his pace, and as my eyes opened, I saw my rock hard cock bouncing up and down gently in rhythm with G's thrusts. He kept it up for a few minutes before I began to feel a slight dull ache as his cock seemed to expand even more in my ass. His thrusts began to feel more urgent, and his balls began to draw up, slapping more forcefully against my own. I felt drips of sweat and heard his breathing become audible and erratic, and with a final thrust, he fell forward onto me, and I felt his cock begin to twitch, and a moment later a heat began spreading through my bowels. The twitching lasted a good bit, and he remained rock hard, deep inside me. He reached around to my cock and slowly began sliding his hand up and down my shaft. After a few minutes, he began fucking me again, having never gone soft. We managed a coordinated dance, my cock in his hand, his cock in my ass. I knew I wasn't going to last long, and as I began to feel my balls pulling up themselves, his matched their movement and I felt that thickening and stiffening of his cock inside me again. I began to rise up and suddenly froze as one of his thrusts brushed my prostate and I felt a rush. Over and over his cock pummeled by my prostate and it became too much, and as my cock began to jerk, G pulled back on my shaft, bringing my foreskin completely off the head while continuing to pound me from behind. My load rocketed out of my piss slit, the first blast practically clearing the downed tree on which I leaned. As my load gradually became less forceful, it began to spatter the log wildly, my cock still bouncing from the thrusting. And as I was finally spent, he again lodged himself deep inside me and I felt the warmth again. As the twitching of his cock subsided, I noticed a dull ache in my ass, it having tightened up as my ejaculation caused every muscle in my mid-section to contract over and over. I felt every inch of him inside me now, and after a moment, he began to soften and started to slip out. His withdraw was smooth, he effortlessly slipped out feeling almost silky and wet. He had slobbered all over my ass and I knew the passage likely still had good lubrication. His cock flopped down as the last of his foreskin exited my hole. The head had fully retracted already, leaving a bit of foreskin to complete his departure. We both were still, catching our breath. "It's been a long time since I came twice," he broke the silence with. "Whew, that is a spectacular ass you have man!" "I haven't cum like that in forever, holy fuck!" I responded as I struggled to push myself upright. It was almost comical how I had gotten into a position that I now couldn't get out of.

Chapter 4, CHEM-O-PHELIAC: Our bodies were still chained together when the kid woke me part way through the night with his antsy thrashing. He had to learn that just like any pet, you sleep when the Master sleeps and MASTER SERGEANT had NOT told him he could fucking move around. For this lesson I rolled him over onto his stomach with me on his back, my dick still buried to the hilt in his well-fucked ass, and my body completely smothering his. The movement tore at the scabs and dry ass juice that had caked up and he yipped like a little bitch, but held his tongue from anything further. When my full 262 pounds was settled on his back and he was pressed into the bed underneath, he could barely breath and his chastity cage pinched into his pelvis with every thrust I made. Slow, methodical, deeper dives of my violator had him trembling as his boy clit swelled from the attention. Just at the moment that his body crested to the top of the wave of joy and bliss, I deftly reached between us, unhooked the harnesses, and pulled myself off him, withdrawing my dick from its newest home. The kid beat the bed with his fists in pain and frustration and turned to look at me with a mix of hate and lust. Such a fine line between those two and I would keep pulling him back and forth across that line until he embraced them both. I then reached out, grabbed a chain, yanked him off the bed and dropped him with a thump onto the floor. His arms and legs flailed as I unwound the length I needed and then locked it into the chain that I had secured earlier around the bed frame. I only pointed to the floor as he looked at me in dismay before I climbed over him and settled back into bed. Warm sunshine on my face welcomed me to a new day. I yawned, stretched, and rolled to my right side and looked down onto the floor where the kid lay, quiet, obedient, in total submission. His puppy dog eyes peered up wanting to please his MASTER. I gave my stiff dick a flick of my fingers – once – twice – yeah I could bust. I rolled further over, snagged the chain, unlocked it, yanked the kid up and guided his dry mouth to my wet, slick dick. My precum was flowing like the Nile into Egypt and the kid’s little pink tongue tickled me like I was Elmo. I let him enjoy himself for only a minute as while he was good, he still had much to learn. I leaned over to the bed stand, grabbed my spliff, lit it, and eyed the kid as his eyes darted back and forth, his breath got heavier, his muscles tensed. I leaned over again and got his smoke, the one laced with tar – and held it out in my hand. Gambler’s choice. Dick or smoke. Tar or charged nutt. The house won this bet as the kid grabbed the tar laced smoke, lit it like a castaway on a desert island, and sucked the wretched smoke in deep. He relaxed, slumped, and now I knew. My little chem-o-pheliac was ready for anything I blew his way. I let him smoke the entire thing – the greedy little pig – and again was surprised he did not wretch. No matter. This was good, all good, and as he drifted off into wherever-the-fuck King Kong’s bride goes, I climbed off the bed, took the last embers of his tar smoke, put it out, then dragged the kid by the chains and collar into the bathroom, threw his ass over the white porcelain tub, and rape fucked his dry his hole until I blew my morning toxic nutt deep into his ripe womb. I made sure he was still conscious and OK, hog chained him on his side, and stepped into the walk-in shower for a nice, hot, wet down. My shower done, I stepped out and was greeted by the kid’s anxious, darting eyes. As water dropped off my muscled body onto his submissive form, I explained that I would unchain him so he could learn to serve me during my morning routines. He tried to speak but a hand to the face removed that notion. He then began to nod only, got up, grabbed one of the luxurious towels, and followed my commands to a T as he wiped my body down. Of course when he got to my dick and hefty balls he was tempted to linger and his lip quivered in need, but a quick tap with my finger brought him back into focus. Next up – toilet training. He would go on command like any good pet being walked by his Master and so I set him on the toilet and let him know he had until the time it took for me to finish pissing down his throat for him to do what he needed to. After that, he would have to hold it until I was ready to piss again. I pushed my dick into his waiting mouth, slapped him once when he tried sucking it, then grabbed his head hard between my hands ensuring my thumbs would leave good bruises on the front of his neck and let my hot stream flow. The kid frantically pushed at his cock cage and while some of his piss squirted onto the floor, for his first time he did well swallowing my bladder. I finished, dropped him to the floor to lick up his piss that missed, then dragged him back to the bedroom where he kneeled for me. Once again he was offered a choice and as expected, his cravings for the tar overwhelmed his need for dick and soon he was back on that high. A nice side effect of the heroin was it would make him withdrawn, isolated, and I would leverage that to my own end and soon I would be his entire fucking world. I left him chained to the bed as I sauntered down stairs – naked – my semi-hard dick thickening with all the evil, twisted, things I planned to do to him today. A fresh drink in one hand, a big spliff in another, and I sat down at one the tables in the backroom that looked out onto the pool. Yes, the little shit had his own, private pool. Digging through the pile of papers and rubbish I found a couple things I was looking for – some of his credit cards and a check book. The cards were well used, the check book barely touched, but from what his step daddy had said both would be flush. I had just pushed the chair back to go back upstairs for another round when a furtive shadow passed by the window, the slices of hidden light announcing the arrival of a guest. The door handle jiggled, I unlocked it and came face to face with a startled older man whose eyes got wide as he took in all of my manhood. “I…well…good morning...you must be uh…oh yes, Master Sergeant? May I? I had not wanted to disturb you and thought I would slip in and check on how things were going but I gather you changed the security code and all that? Yes? Right, right, well good. Oh yes, I’m Edmund’s father,” The old man explained. I blew my smoke down into his face as he waved it away with his left hand. So, my golden goose has a nosy daddy. The old man went on, “My son could not stop talking about you and your – well shall we say skills - and I can see why.” Another wave of his hand like Cleopatra on the throne as he continued, “Oh, no offense meant Sergeant…what? Oh Right, yes, my apologies, Master Sergeant, it’s just that you are not my flavor shall we say, but who do you think taught Edmund to suck dick?” The old man had a lustful twinkle in his eyes now and reached down to grab his now hard dick. Man this is one fucked up family. The old man looked at me, waved to the stairs, “Is HE up there? I gather it was you that caused such a fury yesterday when he called me? Yes? I thought likely. You know that’s the first time that little pecker ever called me Grandpa? Usually it’s some mono-syllable word not even a sailor would utter.” I followed as the old man walked to the stairs and started heading up. I coughed, he turned and with a look of shame came back down. “Ahh I see. There is a new Master of the house is there not? Again, my apologies.” The kid’s grandfather reached into the leather case he was carrying and pulled out a large, velvet box. He had my attention and with purpose he slowly opened the lid and said, “I understand you are a man of refined tastes and so as such, thought this may be of interest to you.” Nestled within, in stark contrast to the black velvet, was a massive, braided gold chain that was as thick as my index finger with a can-top size pendant hanging from it edged in diamonds. “My jeweler said that 1 carat diamonds were a favorite of a Mr. Ice...or a Mr. Whiz somebody or other to accessorize their presence,” the old man stated. I smiled, reached out and snatched the chain, felt the heft, eyed the row of diamonds as they glistened in the light, and held my hand out to the stairs welcoming Grandpa to my new home. Outside the kid’s room I paused, handed Grandpa my still smoking joint, put the chain around my neck and my dick jumped as the cold diamonds touched my skin. The old man beamed and I could tell he wanted to touch me, to feel me, to taste my breeder jizz no matter what he said. I took my spliff back, inhaled, and calmly opened the door revealing the sight of his black and blue, used and abused, chained up grandson quietly sitting on the floor by the end of the bed eager to greet his Master. The kid’s eyes narrowed, he opened his mouth to speak but caught my glare and shut it. The old man chuckled, “I see you have already begun to show him other aspects of life? Mind if I take a turn? Oh don’t look at me like that, he’s not blood.” I nodded, hoisted the kid up, bent him over the bed, tightened the chains, and walked out as I let Grandpa have his way. Who knows, maybe the kid’s bloody hole would get Grandpa too and before I am done I will have three generations of poz pussy in this place. A while later the old man came down the stairs feeling 20 years younger, “I must give you credit Master Sergeant. Such wonders you have accomplished in just one day – one! I never….well you have done more in 24 hours than my sorry excuse of a son and his trailer trash wife have done in years. Well done Sir and if you are – shall we say – amenable to additional incentives…?” He paused, I tapped the diamond pendant and smiled, he continued, “Well then. I am sure I can provide whatever may be required so that my own relishes may be addressed. May I be blunt Sir? Are you into S&M, B&D? Yes, I know, obvious from that, but if I were to…I…if I were to offer to submit?” Yes, for the right price I have no limits and as Grandpa walked away from the house with a new spring in his step and a curdle of my poz cum on his tongue, I thought things were going quiet well so far. Back in the kid’s bedroom we were back on the edge of hate and lust as the kid hated me with his entire being for allowing his Grandpa at him. I did a quick inspection and while I noticed one small, fresh bruise and made note to charge the old man extra next time, the kid seemed fine and I needed to blow another nutt. I stepped on the chain, grabbed the kid’s head hard between my hands, and forced my long dick into those pink lips. Time to show him how a fag chokes out on an alpha BBC. Tears, spit, gut juice all mixed and mingled to slime my dick up and while the kid hungered to taste my load, every sperm I had was already assigned to one mission and one mission only – infecting that ass. I cuffed the side of his head when I released my grip, pushed his face down onto the floor so that his ass was up and his back arched. The kid naturally splayed his arms out in supplication in honor of his Mandingo GOD, and when he did, his hole twitched and quivered, still slick from his Grandpa’s seed. With my weight on my right leg I set my left foot on his head, pinning him down like dust under a runner’s foot who was in the straddle pose at the start line of a race. WITH ONLY HIS SNOT ON MY DICK, I THEN DROPPED MY THIRD ARM INTO HIS HOLE AND BROKE THAT BUSSY WIDE AND DEEP. THE KID WAS BAWLING, THAT WAS GOOD. TIME TO LET OUT ALL THOSE YEARS OF ANGER AND PENT UP EMOTIONS. EVERY PAINFUL STROKE IN WAS ANOTHER HELD GRUDGE RELEASED, ANOTHER HURT SALVED, ANOTHER WOUND HEALED. Once that ass was good and gaping I pulled out, stepped back, sat in the chair, and lit my blunt. The kid was fucking frantic and crawled to me begging and pleading. I held out a tar roll for him. His eyes got wide, he licked his lips, he swallowed hard, he then got off the floor in a crouch as much as the chains would let him and turned and offered me his bruised cunt like some animal in the wild. He wiggled it, whined, reached back to spread it open more for me. Good bitch. I walked over to the desk, propped my new gold iPhone 6sPlus up, checked the shot, hit record, walked back to the kid and holding him up raped that ass as rough and as hard as I could until my dick was raw. The kid had picked dick over the heroin, and so he deserved the ultimate reward – pleasing me anyway I wanted as I ripped his hole like the Grand Canyon and flooded his insides with back-to-back loads. The kid’s gaping ass winked and smiled at me as I took the latest pic showing the slut’s shaved hole bruised, swollen, and dripping with my infected nutt. Seconds later his humiliation was secure in the cloud and being shared with a few select friends as the little shit whined and pleaded, “PLEASE MASTER SERGEANT, FUCK ME SOME MORE.” A quick backhand and the room grew still as the little shit had learned early on what happens when you disobey me. He may get away with his attitude and mouth with his Moms, but not with me – MASTER SERGEANT MAURICE LECLAIRE – UNITED STATES MARINE AND ALL AROUND TOP DAWG AND BITCH USER AND ABUSER. When the morning’s training was done, I handed the kid his check book and let him write a check for what he thought that fuck was worth. It took him a few tries before I was satisfied, and once I was, I bent him over his desk, wrapped my big hands around his little neck, and choked the fuck out of him as I raped that ass again, all the while recording every plea from this mouth begging me not to stop. I don’t believe in giving anything on credit and so that afternoon I left the kid chained to the bed as I made a trip back into town to cash the check, stash the stacks of fresh bills in my safety deposit box, pick up a few things from my place, and made a sales run to my dealer who was excited as shit by the supplies I had to unload. He had some twink emo fucker there all Tina’d up begging for my dick and any other time I would have jumped in that hole. Right now, I was about my business so told the twink to go hustle on the street corner if he had to, hopped back in my Escalade and headed back to the estate. When I got to the main gate, I pulled in, went in to the guard house to chat with the security team - my brothers in arms - who were all very happy to receive a few week’s supply of weed from me as well as a few other special hits. They asked me how I was handling things up at the house and with only a smile of confidence I pulled out my cell phone and gave them a taste of my training regimen. Mouths dropped, dicks got hard, and once I knew they had taken the bait, time for the next step in my plan. Over the next few weeks: - the kid drank my piss and served me every morning when I got up - every morning I gave him a choice of smoke with tar or my dick and some days he chose tar and some days my dick, but as the weeks went on, the less he chose the tar – cravings and all –the more he chose the dick for his high – but fuck, I still gave him weed as that ain’t nothing – either way he was a committed chem-o-pheliac for sure, needing his drugs - if he had been good, I fucked him and blew my first load of the day into his ass - if he had been bad, he was locked in the bathroom for a while with nothing but some dog food and my piss in his bowls - he had chores he had to complete and every day new ones were added as he had to learn to take care of his own place - I started taking him on rides in the Escalade, but the bitch knelt in the back in his dog kennel. Sometimes I would blindfold him. Sometimes I would stop along some country road, pull him into the woods and rape fuck his ass bloody with him bent over some tree. Sometimes I would drive into the city. - he was home schooled for sure and taught the lessons from Master Sergeant’s Book of Wisdom - his cock cage never came off and neither did the collar and chains - by week two, he was swimming laps in the pool – collar still on, me holding the chains from the edge and walking around the pool - by week three, I had him running laps in the gym that was behind the pool. It had been a horsebarn at one time, but someone had spent major bucks to turn it into a Class-A facility, which was now used only by the security guards. - Grandpa got added to my flock and he paid well for regular chances to use the kid, and paid even better to submit and serve me. I was the S&M/B&D Master Sergeant of his dreams and guided him with finesse so that by the time week three rolled around his screams of pain and ecstasy were joined with the kid’s as the third generation to get my dick of death in those guts and once again, the fuckers paid me VERY WELL for raping their greedy pussies. - I continued to stop by the front gate and share with the guards/security team, vids of my exploits and the day I stopped and showed them the kid bound, blindfolded, gagged, and in the dog crate they about fucking lost it and became that pack of alpha DAWGS in heat needing to mount a bitch’s cunt. Well, but you know what they say about most tops being just big dicked bottoms? There may be some of those too in the pack, but I’ll deal with them on my own time. Where are the parents you might ask? I received several calls from the Factor telling me Edmund and his wife were delayed, or had joined friends for a last minute trip to Venice, or some shit or the other. I couldn’t really care one way or the other as between the kid and Grandpa, I was making BUCKS, so worked with what I had. My golden goose knew what he was missing and I was sure he would find his way back to me soon as his ass and checkbook needed my attention as well. One month to the day of my arrival and the kid eagerly began his daily service without any prompt from me. He had become the best little sub, and through our lessons, had gotten healthier physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. HE HAD FOUND HIS PLACE IN THIS WORLD – SERVING MASTER SERGEANT MAURICE LECLAIRE! He eagerly awaited my dick as he could see the toxic precum streaming out of the tip, but I held him off. After a quick shave of his ass to make sure it was pussy smooth, I handed him his own velvet box. While my bling was real shit, this was just fake rhinestone crap, which is all a bitch cunt deserves, but the look on his face and the tears that welled in his eyes you’d have thought I had given him the fucking crown jewels. The kid’s hands shook as he held the case open as I took off the old, ragged and worn, leather collar from his neck. His neck now had a permanent, darker tone around it from the collar, and the skin was thicker, almost like a callous. The collar I lifted out of the case was studded with shiny jewels that said, MASTER’S. All pets are for the glory of their TOP, their MASTER, their ALPHA. They only deserve to be known as such and he was filled with pride at this acknowledgement of ownership, safety, and support. With his new collar in place, and some new chains dragging behind him, my pet bitch walked three feet behind me with his head down as we went out the back, past the pool, and up to the gym. Once inside I guided the kid over to a weight bench, he obediently laid face down, ass up, his hole twitching in need. I looped the chains from his collar around the bench, pressed tight against his torso and neck locking him in place. A minute later the echo of boots on the fine wood floors announced our guests – the full security team for the estate – my brothers in arms. One by one the filed in, got naked, and lined up behind the kid’s ass stroking their dick’s to their full length. While none could compare to mine, they would hurt the kid for sure, and by hiring some outside security contractors for the day and night to guard the estate, I made sure the full team would have hours on end to plug his boy pussy and breed him over and over, and over again. The kid might have started out as a punk, but now he was a B.R.A.T. (Bitch Ready And Turned-out).