DepravedPig2Poz

Listen up, you worthless neg cunt. My name is Artur and I already fucking own that sloppy faggot pussy between your legs. It stopped being “yours” the second you started leaking for toxic dick. That pink little neg rosebud? It’s my property now. My breeding chute. My toxic dump site. My death sleeve. Next time we meet I’m not asking. I’m gonna rip those piss-stained briefs down to your ankles, shove your face into the cum-crusted mattress that’s been marinating in strangers’ loads for months, and ram my raw, leaking, poz death-cock straight into your dry, clenching hole. No spit. No lube. Just the slick film of my own toxic precum and whatever crusty remnants the last five loads left behind. You’ll feel every barbed inch scrape your guts raw as I punch past your second ring like I’m trying to split you in half. I’m gonna fuck you like the disposable meat-puppet you are—long, vicious, piston strokes that make your sloppy cuntlips fart and squelch around my shaft. You’ll smell it: that sour, metallic reek of old cum, fresh precum, ass-juice and the faint chemical stink of the virus itself leaking out of my piss-slit with every brutal thrust. That’s the perfume of your new life, faggot. Breathe it in deep while I churn your insides into a toxic slurry. My heavy poz balls—swollen, veiny, packed with millions of my defective seed—are gonna slap wetly against your taint, painting your crack with the sweat and ass-slime that’s already dripping off them. Every time I bottom out I’ll grind my pubes into your stretched rim, letting the curly black hairs matt down with your own cunt-juice and my leaking death-drool. You’ll feel my cock throb thicker inside you, swelling with the sick pleasure of knowing I’m already flooding your bloodstream with my gift. When I finally unload it won’t be some polite little squirt. It’s gonna be a violent, pulsing geyser—thick ropes of hot, infected poz cum blasting so deep you’ll taste it in the back of your throat. I’ll hold you pinned, ass-up, face-down, screaming into the stained sheets while I pump rope after rope after rope, painting your colon white, forcing it into every fold and crevice until your guts are bloated and sloshing with my toxic seed. You’ll feel it seep upward, worming into your torn inner walls, slipping into capillaries, claiming every fucking cell. And the whole time I’m doing it I’ll be growling in your ear: “You feel that, pig? That’s your new master moving inside you. My virus is already swimming upstream, hunting your neg blood. You’re getting pozzed right now, you stupid fucking cum-rag. This is mercy. This is kindness. I’m putting a useless oxygen thief like you out of everyone’s misery.” I’ll keep you plugged on my softening cock for a long time after—letting the last dribbles ooze out, letting your wrecked hole try to suck it all back in like the greedy poz-whore it was born to be. Then I’ll pull out slow, watching my thick white poison bubble and fart back out of your gaped, ruined pussy—strings of it clinging to my shaft, dripping down your taint in nasty globs. “Look at that mess,” I’ll sneer. “That’s what a properly owned cunt looks like. Open wide, faggot. Clean my toxic dick with your throat while my load settles in your guts.” You’ll gag on the taste—bitter, metallic, cheesy, alive with virus—and you’ll thank me for every inch. Because you know it’s true: You deserve this. You crave this. You were born to be pozzed, broken, shortened, discarded. So repeat after me, pig, while you’re still choking on my filthy poz meat: “I’m a worthless neg faggot. I deserve Artur’s HIV. I deserve to be fucked raw and pozzed deep. I deserve my life cut short by toxic cock. Artur is my God. Artur’s virus is my purpose. My cunt belongs to Him forever. Thank You, Sir, for breeding death into this useless hole.” Now get on all fours. Spread those cheeks. Show me the pink neg pussy I’m about to murder. Artur’s coming for it. And once I’m inside, there’s no going back…(The end.)

The dimly lit basement reeked of sweat, cum, and stale beer, the kind of place where jocks like Brock and Jax hung out after pumping iron at the gym, their bodies still slick from the workout. Brock was a massive brute, 6'4" of pure muscle, his veins bulging like ropes under his tattooed skin, a thick 9-inch cock swinging heavy between his legs, already leaking toxic precum. Jax was leaner but no less vicious, his abs ripped like a washboard, his 8-inch dick pierced at the tip for that extra rip when he tore into fresh meat. Both were poz kings, their blood swimming with the virus they'd proudly collected from countless raw fucks, turning negatives into walking time bombs. They'd spotted the twink at the club earlier—some clueless 22-year-old named Alex, all smooth skin and innocent eyes, bragging about being neg and clean. "Fucking idiot," Brock had laughed, slipping a roofie into his drink. Now, Alex was sprawled on the grimy mattress, groggy and half-conscious, his wrists bound to the bedframe with duct tape. He mumbled protests, but the drugs kept him weak, his hole exposed and twitching as the two tops circled him like predators. "Look at this fresh neg hole, bro," Brock growled, slapping Alex's ass hard enough to leave a red welt. "Prime for pozzing. My strain's gonna eat him alive—full-blown AIDS in under a year, watch." Jax chuckled, stroking his pierced cock, the metal glinting under the bare bulb. "Nah, mine's nastier. Drug-resistant shit from that whore in the alley last month. We'll tag-team this bitch, flood him with our gift, and shave a decade off his pathetic life. Bet he won't even hit 30." Brock grabbed Alex's hips first, pinning him down with one massive hand on his back, the twink's face smashed into the mattress. "Hold still, you neg slut," he snarled, spitting on his hole before ramming in raw. Alex screamed, but Brock just laughed, thrusting deep, his toxic load churning inside. "Feel that? That's my virus knocking at your door. Gonna convert you, make you one of us—coughing up blood while we fuck your wrecked ass." Jax watched, jerking off, his eyes hungry. "Pound him harder, bro. Break that barrier. I want him bleeding for my turn." Brock pistoned relentlessly, his balls slapping against Alex's thighs, grunting with each brutal stroke. "This hole's tight—neg as fuck. Not for long. My poz cum's gonna rewrite his DNA, turn him into a diseased cumdump. Imagine him wasting away, begging for meds he can't afford. Shortens his life? Hell, we'll end it early." After a few minutes, Brock pulled out with a wet pop, his cock glistening with precum and a hint of blood. "Your turn, Jax. Pass the meat." They flipped Alex like a ragdoll, Jax pinning his shoulders while Brock held his legs spread. Jax slammed in without mercy, the piercing scraping Alex's insides, drawing a fresh cry. "Fuck yeah, feel that tear? That's my gift sliding in deep. Our strains mixing in your gut—double the poison. You're done, boy. No more clean life for you." Brock leaned in, whispering in Alex's ear while Jax fucked him senseless. "We're bragging rights, kid. We've pozzed dozens—turned jocks like you into skeletons. Your hole's just another notch. By morning, you'll be infected, rotting from the inside. Short life ahead—blame our toxic cocks." Jax sped up, groaning. "Gonna cum soon. Flood this neg pig with my load. Watch him swell up with fever in a week." They traded him back and forth for hours, each turn more vicious—Brock choking him lightly while Jax bit his neck, both joking about his impending doom. "Bet his family's gonna wonder why he's dying young," Brock laughed mid-thrust. "Our secret—pozzed by the best." Finally, they both unloaded deep, pinning him flat as their mixed cum seeped out, the virus taking root. Alex lay broken, sobbing, but the jocks just high-fived, wiping their dicks on his face. "Another one down, bro. Who's next?"

Listen up, you pathetic little neg faggot. Next time I get my hands on you, it's not gonna be some sweet fuck session—it's gonna be a full-on rape, where I force my toxic cock deep into your worthless hole and HIV rape you until my poz load floods your guts. Yeah, that's right, you will be raped and infected with HIV because that is what you fucking deserve and you know it! From the moment you were born, that doctor took one look at your squirming, useless body and declared, "This boy is useless! He is only a bum hole! He will only be useful to fag and bi tops who want to satisfy their cocks using his asshole! He is just a fucking hole!" And he was spot on, wasn't he? You've lived your entire pathetic life proving it, chasing cocks like the desperate cumdump you are, but now it's time for your real punishment. I'm your poz master, gorgeous and muscular, towering over your scrawny, worthless frame with my ripped abs, bulging biceps, and that thick, veiny cock pulsing with my gift—the virus that's gonna rewrite your DNA forever. You'll beg for mercy, but there won't be any. I'll pin you down on the bed, my strong hands gripping your throat just enough to make you gasp, reminding you who's in charge. If you try to resist, even a little squirm or whimper to pull away, I'll choke you harder, squeezing until your face turns red and your eyes bulge, teaching you that resistance only makes it worse. And if that's not enough? I'll drag your sorry ass into the bathroom shower, shove you to your knees in the cold tile, and force my piss down your throat. You'll drink every last drop of my hot, acrid stream, gagging and choking on it as punishment for thinking you could fight back. Swallow it all, faggot, or I'll hold your nose shut until you do—because you will be raped and infected with HIV because that is what you fucking deserve and you know it! Once you're broken and compliant, I'll flip you over, spread those cheeks wide, and ram my raw poz cock into your tight neg hole without lube, tearing you open as you scream. Feel that burn? That's just the start. I'll pound you relentlessly, my balls slapping against your ass, whispering in your ear how your neg status is over—how I'm HIV raping you right now, my viral precum already seeping into your bloodstream, starting the conversion. You'll feel my shaft throbbing inside you, each thrust pushing my poz essence deeper, violating every inch of your pathetic body. You're nothing but a hole for me to use, a vessel for my toxic seed, and you deserve this degradation because you're a useless faggot who couldn't amount to anything else. I'll bite your neck, mark you with bruises, slap your face when you cry too loud, all while telling you how good it feels to destroy you. And when I'm close, I'll hold you down even tighter, ignoring your pleas, and unleash my massive poz load—thick ropes of cum laced with my high viral count, flooding your guts, ensuring the infection takes hold. My poz DNA will live inside you forever, replicating in your cells, turning you into my infected slave. It'll shorten your pathetic fag life, just like I want—because why should a worthless piece of shit like you get to live long? You should be thankful, faggot, groveling at my feet for the honor of being infected by such a gorgeous, muscular poz top like me. My virus is a gift, a permanent mark of ownership, and you'll carry it with pride, knowing it was raped into you as punishment for your existence. If you dare resist during the breeding, back to choking—my fingers around your neck, cutting off your air until you submit. Or straight to the shower, where I'll pin you under the stream and piss-flood your mouth again, making you guzzle it down like the toilet you are. Every drop, faggot, until you're bloated and broken. You will be raped and infected with HIV because that is what you fucking deserve and you know it! This is your fate—punished for being the pathetic, useless faggot you were born as, the doctor's words echoing in your empty head. In the end, you shall be raped despite your screams of pain. I will ignore all your little yelps of pain—pain is what you deserve anyway, you useless pathetic faggot, and you know it, and you know you deserve HIV infection and a shorter life. You should thank me for all of this—you are my HIV slave in this life and the next, fucker!