PozTalkAuthor

Yeah, that's it: into a democracy, you vote the person or group who best represents your way of thinking. But if there are two candidates and one is worst than the other, you choose the one closer to your ideas, running the risk of a fail. I'd lie saying that some figures aren't carismatic and have a good ability to attract masses. But they seem to talk to your instinct, not your head! Politicians represent us, it's true but in this particular moment it's very difficult. If you vote and the election goes to the opposite side, you don't feel represented; if you vote, your candidate succeeds, and doesn't do what they promised doing rather the opposite? You're screwed. If you don't vote because you don't feel represented by anyone? You submit to others' decision and, guess... you're screwed again. Talking about liberals and conservatives, I hardly define myself totally liberal. And I'm far from conservative! For example I'd accept to prohibit Internet access to haters and fake-news spreaders. I'd introduce a sort of "driving license" for the net, which should be updated every 6 months to be able to actively participate in social media, and so on. But it's practically BULLSHIT as if a politician gets it, they can have their own criteria to decide what and if, it becomes censorship and it's the end. This kind of mindset is the one sponsoring autocracy, so even talking like this in theory, having seen the worst of the worst around me, I'd stay much much far from people promising such stuff.

Let me say that I'm fed up about all of this "binarism" in reasoning. Computers are programmed to get "zero" as false, "one" as true; but human race? Why? Saying "if you're gay you can't be republican" or vice-versa, yes. Most republican politicians are homophobic, but what do you do if current democrat politicians have a weaker position about conflicts, for example? This world is mad, unstable, because every one feels to be in the right side of history. Sorry I might sound complicated, I'm a little feverish Life is complex, and we can't say a person is bad or nice labelling their political orientation. With this, though, I feel uncomfortable seeing there are LGBT people addressed towards politicians who are homophobic. Not for people's ideas BEYOND sexuality, but because it means choosing the least relevant damage for the country you live in. "He's homophobic but is promising to do his best to stop war" for example... It's not the politician, it's the world going more and more crazy. Then, promises are election campaign promises! And believe me, here in Europe we are not better than you in the US.

I'm honestly scared by extremes. Be it right or be it left, extremists are toxic because they think their own way of thinking and acting, is the only one valuable, good, NORMAL. I'm scared by politicians saying hetero/christian is the only way acceptable, or hetero/muslim/jewish... But, on the other hand, even the atmosphere of "you can say nothing" isn't less scary. I mean: when someone criticizes a movie or book or whatever, and there are always others behind his back saying "you're racist/homophobic/whatever". When the critical opinion is mostly based on how the product has been built. If you produce a story based on England's history, why having a black actress interpreting Queen Elizabeth? Or why having a white actress interpreting Whitney Houston, let's say... This is marketing, not inclusion; this is not being "liberal". Today's way to face discussions is frightening me a lot, there seems to be the necessity, no, the urge, to always be one against the other. And this brings to conflicts. With or without weapons. Always saying "it's the left / it's the right's fault", if things are ending up like this, if racists, homophobes and soever are forcefully taking their space and have lots of success, it's not only their violence. There might have been extremism acceptance to our side too. My 2 (unrequested) cents.

just a hug. I know this kind of feeling, yes. When you lose someone who meant a lot for you, your mind is full of regrets. I should have done, have said...

I love it! And having maybe a closure with part 50 (at the most 51) would be the same number of Dominic's conversions. 50th is Will, plus 51st is Lewis. I also love the characters' parts, beyond sex; I always say this, BreedingZone is mainly centered on sex but stories with just ass, dick and cum, then sound monotonous (for me, at least).

Been ages I didn't hear from you! And... Poor Brian, this guy Will, is stealing his chaser boy!

And the poz family grows!

Oh, well, of course a spin-off would be great - with Peter gifting, for example but now, concentrate on finishing this one. It's almost 2 years you're on it and I know how much efforts a story takes.

Definitely the best one! Sounds like a new gifting couple formed. Ready to spread the love.

I think human race has a serious problem: the desire to trap each other in pre-defined models without considering that a model is a starting point, not a goal to achieve. Like when you create a new blog or document in a computer; you have several layout to start from, but no one prevents you from changing the layout completely and use the main model just as a basic inspiration. A guy here has centered the point: "you must have common interests beyond sex" and I thank him for this statement. It could be obvious, but it isn't that much. That's why I have accepted to be psychologically abused for years: I concentrated most on sex and on that "rescue" attitude I have, rather than developing a really healthy relationship with him. After what happened with my so-called "monogamous" relationship with the cheater who pozzed me, I resigned to the models again: "monogamous is hetero love, gay love is open". I would lie if I tell you it wasn't good sex then; in pre-pandemic times my ex and I had great sex with some regulars, I enjoyed it; no questions asked and no condoms, him on Prep, me Undet, fuck it. Then our mutual poz fetish revelation came, several issues -including pandemic- and all events made me realize I've lived with a fuckbuddy, not with a boyfriend. A fuckbuddy I was rescuing from a miserable life. And now? With my current partner we are closed, but aren't at the same time. I mean, we haven't had sex with others, at least not arriving to anal penetration, but we have not promised to be sexually faithful to each other. Only promise has been, "if you get the chance go for it but be careful" - especially me to him, as I don't want him to get pozzed. And not by strangers. For the rest, we have our occasional on line flirts, dirty messages here and there but no interest to go for it in real, at the moment.

This one should go into "chemsex fiction" I think; I suppose moderators are going to move it in the right section

Oh, damn!!! The bottom's Twitter approach description, seems my ex! And, my ex -the abuser- has took so many risks, but he was on Prep then. Yeah, it starts like this: you go, explore fetishes, then take the right path for you. Anyway, in that case I heard from other people that he's now positive but, at least, it wasn't me. I wish it went like the story described here, for him! And that poz life changes his abuser attitude.

Go on - I love romantic stories!

I'd just tell you, avoid him like a deadly poison he could blackmail you in worst way.

this doctor is the best - "do you want HIV?" ...No, I meant, do you want to include HIV test

Author's note: No, "prince Albert" is not what you could expect! I wanted to write with President's point of view but it generated lots of hate speech, I could not sweeten it much or the context might not be understood. So, I prefer to use main characters' point of view when they listen to him talking. Technical note: Deepl Pro translator and grammar/ortography corrector are precious aids (lowercase word!!!) They help me a lot to avoid making a fool of myself while writing. ----- Chapter 5: Prince Albert Bugdom, 2050. Boy's perspective "It's matter of life or death for all of us," Dad continued to speak despite I didn't listen to him anymore; the grip of his hand on my wrist began to hurt and I felt as if he wanted to break my arm. "Ouch," I tried to protest but his dominant gaze convinced me to stay quiet. Without ever letting my wrist go, he walked me down the hallway; it was my house, but the sensation of being dragged like a dog made it feel unsafe and interminable. All questions I wanted to ask him froze even before becoming words: "Gifter," "Poz," I promised myself sooner or later I would find out for myself what they meant, but what if there really was a cage? Dad is a cop! Putting me in prison for two words, did Mr. President really go that far? Daily pills, friendships only possible with my parents' approval, computers for half an hour a week and only limited to school, now prison? I felt tears in my eyes and tried to wipe them away, when I realized that Dad was crying too. And much more than me! We had reached the end of the hallway and he slipped the pendant off his neck. A round metal medallion, with a symbol drawn on it that I had seen only a few months earlier in school on a test tube at the science lab but, more importantly, on the arm of the teacher who hid it every time I stared at it. "Yes, of course," I thought; "my teacher marked his skin with that sign and the word 'poz', that's where I saw those letters for the first time!" From a book I had also studied the meaning of symbols indicating danger, and the same design on the professor's arm was called 'biohazard' referring to viruses and other dangerous biological materials. "Two and two is four," I whispered toward Dad; I had been reading a lot about the war, when black dragon flags fought against rainbow-colored ones, and the clear defeat of the latter; it was such a mess if people killed themselves or got angry just for a picture or another! "It's over between you and Mom," I ventured; I couldn't explain Dad's tears any other way: him without tattoos and wearing the biohazard medallion, Mom with two scorpions permanently marking her breasts. "You and Mom are arguing because of symbols, aren't you?" He instantly let my wrist go and wrapped both his arms around me, his loving attentions coming back. "Sharon and I cannot break up, it would be against nature! And you're the second positive result of our life together." As he spoke, however, I noticed him sobbing quietly. "Our bond cannot be broken because I am biologically linked to her. I am her..." A sudden, violent coughing fit prevented him from talking further so I finished the sentence: "you're her gifter? Her poz? Her poz gifter? Or her biohazard, tell me more. Please! Dad! Don't die now! Answer me!" He put his index finger to my lips and with his free hand inserted his medallion into the slot of a metal door; who could even guess that pendant could be used as a key? In my life I had always seen that locked door at the end of the corridor, located on the opposite wall from the balcony, but no one had ever given me permission to ask if and how it was possible to access that room. All I could see was Mom carrying a stinking bucket out of there every morning. "At least now I'll find out which animal poops so much." I saw Dad attempt to say something, his lips opening and closing slowly; cough had passed, he was breathing regularly but no sound came from his mouth and his body moved as if it were in a cast. "Sorry, Dad," I said worriedly, scared by the rigidity of his movements. "You need a doctor! I have to get out from here to look for help!" The metal door meanwhile had opened and an intense smell of disinfectant came out; there it was, the cage, it was a real iron cage complete with bars! In fact, from what I could see, it was split in two by what looked like a darkened glass panel. "You strip naked, go inside, and don't call a fucking soul!" My father's voice had returned angrier than before, and his strong hands forced me to take all my clothes off. I had expressed the desire to walk around the house and the city naked shortly before; but now forced nudity was a feeling I did not like at all. I was vulnerable to whatever creature had lived in that cage, where I was pushed in mercilessly. I found myself in a cramped space, empty except for the presence of two bowls sealed by a lid; I peeked through the still-open door and saw Dad pull a small remote control out of his pocket; I heard him type in a few codes, and beeps were heard on the bottom of the cage, with an electronic voice saying coldly: "food 1 p.m., water 1:30 p.m." I looked in front of me and finally realized the truth: the cage was split in two by a screen! A huge screen where some broadcasted images could be seen, probably from a projector. Or a camera connected to the Internet. There was no chance to receive an explanation from my father so I resigned to the inevitable destiny as soon as I heard the iron door creak shut behind me. "Just for calling him 'Gifter'," I complained as I sat on the floor; at the opposite corner of the bowls was a bucket. That one was open, at least! Pissing and pooping had no timetable. I laid prone and crawled slowly toward the fake wall separating the two halves of the cage: had there been an animal on the other side, I would have felt its presence at least! I sensed there was movement beyond but no smell could be felt, except my own. Only thing I could do was knocking on the screen. Once, twice, I was losing all my hope, then someone replied back in the same way! One knock of mine caused another of the same intensity, from the other side. Two knocks produced two, three matched to three, and so on. The mysterious creature and I went on and on for a while, in that funny attempt to socialize. Finally best result came when I tried to say "hi" with morse code! Mom insisted to make me learn all those lines and dots assuming I could have needed them, I judged that kind of lessons as boring but damn if she was right to make me complete all of them! The creature actually responded with a similar sign: four rapid knocks for h, two for i. "You are human then," I finally ventured to talk aloud. "I am, well, I'm Prince Albert!", I heard from the other side. Three or four beeps and the fake wall, slowly, lifted up by itself until it reached the ceiling; now the screen was directly above my head. A young man in his early twenties stood naked in front of me, hairless as me! "They shaved everything off you as well," I thought to myself without taking the risk of saying it aloud. Who knew what could happen, which stronger punition I could deserve if I revealed what my father and I did in the bathroom. "That asshole locked you in here", he said coming closer to me; "didn't he? I'll take revenge sooner or later, that son of a..." I remained disturbed by his voice; it was not exactly what one would expect from a young man, it sounded somehow artificial. I dared not stand up and crawled on all fours toward him. How beautiful he was, smooth as silk. The creature appeared as innocent as me, all naked, harmless. When I looked higher, however, I noticed a pair of very small balls and what seemed a ring of flesh, with a hole in the middle, in place of a penis! Like it had somehow retracted. I took a closer look at him; even his skin had something synthetic about it, and I didn't dare touch him, remembering all the stories Mom had told about radiation and its effects. "I thought I was unlucky but you had a worse fate," I pointed to my poor member locked in a metal cage; "I wouldn't even guess how painful it had to be!" "What is pain? Never felt such sensation," Prince Albert looked at me in surprise, almost laughing; "I don't know what you're talking about. And for the magic wheel, well, I was born this way." Prince Albert. Yes. It was a name I had already heard from male students at school, but in which situation! I couldn't remember. Prince Albert... Prince Albert. I wonder why it reminded me of something forbidden, related to a ring. Perhaps it was just this poor guy whom no one wanted me to see. I reached out my hand toward him to introduce myself and he... He bit it! His teeth felt like sharp knives, so his bite caused me to lose some blood into his mouth. In a short while his tongue started licking the wound, the burning sensation of freshly broken skin quickly replaced by a pleasant warmth; damn the member cage, I was experiencing same shivers I have in the night during my prohibited dreams! What the fuck was going on? As soon as I withdrew my hand from his mouth I noticed that my skin was intact. Like nothing had happened except for the drops of gelatinous saliva falling from my fingers. "Negative disgusting DNA," he spit in my face and indeed his saliva was mixed with blood. So much blood! I felt panic invade my heart and knelt down again, careful not to touch Albert. "I am Elias anyways," I told him and that was enough for the stranger to change his attitude. "Oh, excuse me," he knelt in front of me and I felt his hands explore my whole body: neck, hips, hands, ass. "You have a wonderful butt," he said; "and I guess I'm not authorized to access that door!" I looked at him in amazement: enter my ass in what sense? Ass is exit-only door, this is what I always learned at school. Shit comes out and viruses come in, that body part must be touched by doctors for exams or treatments only. We can't even shove a finger in our own rear hole without getting in some danger. "I've heard about you even before you were born," Albert brought his face closer to my neck, and I trembled with fear: what if he planted his teeth there as well! "You must learn how to use your body before the big event. Your whole body, no part excluded. I'll show you some tricks if you want!" Big event? My 18th birthday or was it something else? A mutant creature is informed about details concerning me and I'm clueless? My parents talk mysteryous when I'm around then lock me in a cage when I ask them questions? "I am here for peace," Albert said; "and I don't give a damn about what they are doing outside, fuck the world!" He stared at the ceiling, where images of a public event came from; an old man was talking on stage, microphone in his hand, a large crowd loudly cheering every time the speaker finished a sentence. "I've silenced the audio," he whispered in my ear," because the president out there is just talking bullshit! And if you're here with me that means you are finding a way to rise against him." "I wanted to join the ceremony and confront that old fart but Dad locked me in this awful prison," I told him the whole story and he caressed me with his sexy hands starting from my face, then went down to my chest, and when he reached my nipples he turned them. First the right, then the left! As if they were buttons or levers of an electronic equipment. It went on like this for several minutes: he squeezed my nipples and with his other hand explored my asshole but never dared to do anything else. "Nothing changes," he sighed resignedly. "But that's good as you are a pure human! Such a rare specimen nowadays! Too bad you're still negative, I recognized it tasting your blood." I shook my head, confused. So he guided my hand toward his nipples. Oh, how different they were from mine! Hard, protruding, they almost didn't even feel like flesh when I explored them with my fingers. "Play with them," he encouraged me; "squeeze them, press them, lick them, bite them. Let me feel how a horny man behaves!" Damn, this creature is free to use all the words my father repeats every day but I cannot say nor know their meaning! I dared not ask him any more questions and twisted his right nipple. Once, twice, three times and I suddenly saw that the flesh ring between his legs gradually stretched as I turned the nipple clockwise. It seemed unrolling step by step, each movement I made with my fingers. Wonders of technology, or biology, what kind of mutation could it be? His balls remained small instead, and I had no guts to give them the same treatment without his consent. "Extensible member," I joked; "I wish I had something similar! Mine grows in some occasions but it never varies in length like yours and now it's useless, you see it yourself: Dad has trapped it to keep it small and soft." "I found it out by myself," he told me; "Two years ago I was 18 and trying to set free from my cage, I bumped against the bars with my chest. My right nipple remained trapped and I discovered this trick. So I tried with the left as well!" "Were you locked in this cage? Are you... Were you born here?" "Shut up," he interrupted me and twisted the nipple counterclockwise until his magic long member turned into a miserable ring of flesh again. He turned around and I finally saw his butt. Two nice firm ass cheeks, but there seemed to be no sign of a hole! I explored it with my fingers sliding them up and down; Albert remained still, no sign or pleasure or discomfort so I gave it up, not knowing what to do or expect. "Oh, damn," I exclaimed; "you're assless! And what about your physical needs?" "I expel food discards in the morning and evening only," Albert smiled; "in those occasions my hole opens in exit mode. I am programmed this way, because my ass has mainly other purposes." With his fingers he twisted his left nipple clockwise, and I couldn't believe my eyes! Every single nipple stimulation made his ass open more and more. "I can take up to ten cocks at once without poppers," he boasted, and I stood staring at him, my eyes widening as I watched his body change on command: his ass wide or tight, the forbidden words coming out of his mouth like there was no tomorrow! He spoke in a language that was precluded to me and that, who knows why, made me think of some memorable experiences I would have liked to try one day. "You are not free, Elias, not yet at least. You cannot enter me and give me the seed of life. And same for me with you. I have precise tasks to complete and orders to obey." "My dad mentions it as Life generator," I corrected him; "but I heard him call it 'cock' when talking to Mom or their friends. It can create positive lives, this is what I know even without any idea about what it means." "I understand you puppy," he reassured me; "I would love to upgrade your status myself, but my virus said it's not my duty. HIV will kill me if I disobey!" A sudden coughing fit blocked Albert's voice as he fell forward. Identical symptom to the one my father had just some minutes before! I thought back to what I had studied at school over the past year, to what I had begun to figure out but never had definitive confirmation about. "HIV is a virus, and it can't talk," I said to Albert, who stood up slowly. He breathed deeply, looked at me then walked away to the opposite side of the cage. He typed something into a keyboard that I could not locate, and the old man's voice could be heard from the ceiling: "Today I am turning 100 years old and this is just the beginning," the old man announced. "I am the President of the United States of Europe as long as this body is strong enough." "Bullshit," muttered Albert. "Bullshit." I looked at the screen and saw three men crawling on all fours toward the president. Slaves, I thought; until the camera framed the centrally located one. He had stuck a wooden stick up his ass from which hung some kind of leather jumpsuit. No, it wasn't a suit! I looked at it horrified, then stared at Albert, and again at the slave who exposed his ass at the camera. "You see him," thundered the elder's voice. "No, not the man. But the flag. That... That is the skin of a traitor! And what a traitor!" The crowd soundly cheered at Mr. President, but as soon as he mentioned "traitor" they all stopped. The incoming unreal silence was the sound of deadly fear. "Him! My only son. My favorite..." Still within camera range 100-year-old man violently pulled the rod out of his slave's ass and showed it to the crowd: "Listen and look! This, this is not a full suit..." I flattened myself to the ground terrified but Albert unleashed a wicked smile and a mischievous laugh under his breath. "You see... This... This is my son Albert's skin! Prince Albert was supposed to be my direct successor, carry my viral strain and honor me. But then he betrayed the State and offended the Army!" He spit at the poor skin, then another spit toward the crowd, which was followed by long minutes of swearing and cursing; that old mouth has still the courage to share all existing obscenities known by human race. "What a dishonor, the bastard made the virus mutate! So I had to kill my own unique son. Me... Me to be defeated by an insignificant creature like him? The world is at constant war, and that one was talking about peace? Inappropriate! I needed him in the army and he betrayed me in worst way." Once again Albert smiled in my direction, caressing his own skin with pride but deliberately ignoring my astonished look. "So now I carry his skin with me," the elderly president continued his obvious delirium. "Do you understand, you worthless negative people? You, only you are my hope for the new army. Only I can decide who you should marry and copulate with! No one must ever touch any other person without the army's permission and my signature. Or you will end up like my son." Then he took by the arm the naked slave who until a short while before was holding the flag with Albert's skin up his ass. "He is my most trusted slave," again the President spoke to the crowd. "His task is to find all 18-year-olds born HIV-negative and bringing them to me. My future new soldiers. Or slaves. It depends if they sexually attract me enough. And, one more thing..." People kept silent again while President guided his slave on stage. "Down there in Bugdom", he continued pointing his index finger on an electronic map. "I confined all HIV-positive people to the underground city I had built from caves and bomb bunkers. But you already know that, right?" "YES, MR. PRESIDENT", people shouted in unison. "But there is one positive family hiding a negative boy and this can't be tolerated!" I froze. Negative was a word I heard from Dad when he talked about me with Mom assuming I didn't listen, or when doctors came to check on me during my childhood in case I felt ill for any reason. "So, Slave Scotty", President pulled the guy's arm forcing him to come closer to the microphone. "Promise it, say it to our citizens. Are you going to rescue this boy and bring him up here to comply his duties in the State's army?" "Yes, Sir", Scotty said solemnly and kissed President's hand. "I already gained his trust in years, now it's really matter of some days." "Oh, damn it," I winced as I looked the slave in the face; a rush of anger made me run to the bars and hit them with my fists until Albert grabbed me from behind. "Hey, Elias! Hey! Keep quiet! Calm down!" I pushed him away: if that murdered dead Prince Albert was the president's son, who was I befriending in the cage? Besides, what happened to Scotty? He was my best friend, my only friend. "Everything is OK Elias. I fooled Mr. President and he didn't even notice! I changed my skin, like reptilians. I faked death, I have the power to do it! I'm not alone. We're not alone here, boy." Asses and dicks growing on command, talking viruses and changing skin, what a monster I was dealing with! Who was with us here then, I didn't see any other living creature. "I know it sounds strange my friend, but my HIV and I have to protect you because you trust the wrong people and your life is at high risk." Scott, the dear Scott. My parents never accepted our friendship and now I was beginning to understand why. "All negative 18 year old guys belong to me," the president's speech sounded sinister now, given what I had learned in a few hours that same morning: "you are an electron and we are protons," now my parents' words began to make sense, together with basic physics lesson: Proton is positive, Electron is negative charge in an atom. "It's not our fault we were born this way," Albert hugged me tightly. "Me half human and half robot, you coming out negative from a positive couple." "I don't even know what that means," I complained; "if you're talking about HIV maybe they would have wanted to protect me from a disease." Prince Albert shook his head: "No no no, it's the opposite. Your parents wanted you positive. But our virus disagreed and HIV's the one to have the last word in any steps we take. Our virus is protecting you through all of us until you'll be ready for the status upgrade."

Oh fuck! This is a wonderful story, I'm aware it's coming to an end maybe but it took almost 2 years effort, for you. Maybe it's because I love this kind of stories where you can find sex (plenty of it) together with emotions and everyday life... We are humans, after all; and a story where characters are just sex machines IMHO doesn't seem realistic.