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IX. Tradecraft Here we turn to a lighter note, a heartwarming story of romance between a Daddy and his Boy. A perfect love flowed from the kindly older man, pulsing through his cock into the strapping young fellow – overflowing his heart and transforming his body forever. But let us begin at the beginning. An athletic son of academics, the young man yearned for a more robust and manly life than that of his effete and bookish father. More than anything he loved to work with his hands, and he was naturally drawn to gathering places of men – where honest labor and pride of craftsmanship are prized values. Thus the lad was overjoyed to find an after-school job at the local hardware store. The men who worked at the store treated him with trust and respect. He proudly wore the staff apron, with its pockets for tools, pens and measuring tapes, and applied himself in learning the business. Soon he was advising customers on tools and tradecrafts with an expertise beyond his years. His youthful confidence and pleasing dexterity did not escape the notice of a frequent customer, the Brother Groundskeeper, for whom the hardware store was also a place of pilgrimage. He knew its aisles almost as well as he did the gardens and hedgerows of the Brotherhood’s Estate, and whiled away happy hours admiring the finely machined tools and precision equipment. One day he waylaid the young employee and asked for help finding a few items -- though he knew full well where they were kept. Each request took the two farther into the back reaches of the store until, by inquiring about hoists and winches, the Brother maneuvered the lad into a corner by the men’s restroom. As the young man started to explain one of the devices, hefting it in his hand, the older man’s hand brushed lightly across it, stopping as his broad, callused palm covered the boy’s slender fingers. Their eyes met and froze. The Brother broke his gaze and looked toward the washroom. “I need your help in here for a moment.” Taking the winch from the boy’s hands and laying it back on the shelf, he noticed the rising mound in the lad’s staff apron, lifted by a tool more beautifully honed than the pliers and screwdrivers tucked in its pockets. The boy, entranced, nodded and wordlessly followed the Brother into the lavatory. It was the first time he had touched another man in such a way, but somehow his body knew what to do. Falling to his knees, he freed the Brother’s cock, stroking with naturally gifted hands its magnificent crown, its trunklike shaft with veins like buttresses, and its lightly silvered bush. He bestowed on it the same reverent admiration as he would on a fine tool from the store’s wares. Soon the Brother was primed to impart a more advanced lesson in the manly arts, and with a kind but firm grasp he pulled the boy to his feet and turned him against the sink, fixing his eyes in the mirror with a powerful, hypnotic stare. Reaching under the apron, he deftly unfastened the boy’s belt, opened his own shirt and pants and, gently caressing the young man’s bulging briefs, pulled his jeans to his ankles. The Groundskeeper spat on his fingers and expertly prepared the untouched hole for its introduction to adult pleasures. Freeing the young cock that desperately strained at its cotton bonds, he stroked it, drawing the boy’s attention to the ecstasy of his touch and distracting him from the inevitable pain he must endure in this moment of discovery. The Groundskeeper eased himself, unrelentingly but compassionately, between the round, youthful buttocks and into the tight, quivering hole, holding the boy’s waist against his impulse to draw away. By fractions of an inch like those inscribed on a measuring tape, his thickly veined cock found its home. Pain and indescribable pleasure coursed like an electrical charge through the young man’s body and he let out a cry – muffled by his mentor, who had preemptively placed a thick hand over the rosy lips. Both watched their images, shuddering with piston thrusts, in the mirror, the boy’s head leaning back and nestling in the older man’s sheltering arms. The young cock lurched and bounced to the relentless rhythm, beginning to ooze in response to the unfamiliar bliss. The man removed his hand from the boy’s mouth and began gently to caress his balls, teasing him ever closer to orgasm. He slid his fingers up the boy’s ten-inch shaft (which of late had grown into the object of locker-room envy and his own youthful astonishment) and began circling the velvety magenta of the cockhead, glazing it with a delicate coating of its own oozing precum. The stimulation was more than the young body could stand. Taut muscles tensed, bright eyes and plump lips stretched wide in surprise, and with a convulsion like he had never experienced, the boy machine-gunned out a bounty that smeared the mirror from top to bottom. He was still transfixed in wonder when the man’s own thrusts took on a final urgency, delivering a load that, though injected inside him rather than spattered in full view, was surely just as copious as his own. They stood for many minutes in a post-coital embrace, the lad turning his face to claim a long and urgent kiss. The Brother held still and the boy could almost feel inside himself the gentle heartbeats that throbbed in the older man’s cock, as it withdrew slowly and sensuously from the oozing hole. Turning to face him, the youth admired the hard and thickly haired chest, then cast his eyes downward to assess the manhood that had just penetrated him. For the first time he noticed the boldly inscribed tattoo on the left of the man’s abdomen. The Brother caught the inquisitive gaze and, pulling the boy's face up to meet his own eyes, whispered, “A badge of manhood that you shall earn yourself one day.” The man dressed himself and, with a firm and affectionate grasp of the boy’s shoulder, left him alone in wordless awe. Mindful that “one day” might be sooner rather than later, the Brother thought to check back on the boy in the weeks to come. Sure enough, stopping by the store, he was told that the young employee had called in sick for more than a week. He smiled and shook his head fondly, remembering that in his prime his viral load had been mighty, and was glad to be reassured that his golden years were still blessed with that same potency. “Pozzed on his first fuck,” other junior Brothers would affectionately tease the young man in years to come, and he would blush, secretly proud. But of course it took some time, at first, to understand how truly blessed he was. There was shock at his life’s sudden new turn, tears, and rage – but those dissolved in due time. Seeing the kindly face of the Groundskeeper once more was enough to melt some of the anger. The affection between them was real, and soon they became lovers, bonded as they were already by the Strain. The boy was apprenticed to his Poz Father as an assistant groundskeeper, learning to plow, plant and tend the gardens – as well as joining his mentor to spread another kind of Seed. (Together they reaped a bountiful harvest of fresh college boys, for the muscular May-September pair proved a powerful lure for the young and horny.) In due time the Apprentice was admitted to the Chapter – among the younger Initiates in its history. His entry to the Brotherhood was, as tradition requires, sealed with a ritual infusion of semen by the gathered Brothers one night in the Chapter Hall. But this was a mere formality, for the offspring of his Father/Lover was already living within him, conceived on that confusing but exhilarating day of sexual awakening. Only the Dark Lord knows how many meaningless loads have spattered the stalls of public toilets, truck stops and park benches throughout history. Surely our sacred Seed, it its relentless determination to propagate, charged from man to man in many such encounters. Yet none could compare to the beauty of those furtive moments in a dingy hardware store men's room. Father and Son joined in an eternal bond – a boy's virginity taken and manhood granted in a single explosion of viral love.

VIII. Surrender What a difference an hour makes. A haughty man, of proud nature and imposingly mature physique, had been humbled – his muscular resistance crumbling to the irresistible allure of the Brothers’ insistent sexuality. The “reverend” was changing religion tonight – his false Christianity no match for the power of the Brothers’ creed. For the Dark One captures men’s souls by first seizing their cocks. The unwilling Recruit, newly resigned to his fate, stood facing the High Priest in a posture of defeat – shoulders drooping, eyes cast downward, wincing with each crescendo of the Initiation Chant that swelled once again through the ancient arches and pillars. The man’s impressive cock, which had responded so resoundingly to the ritual attentions of four alluring young Acolytes, was cowed and shriveled, shrinking back as if to hide in the folds of his pendulous scrotum. The Brothers recognized this reaction – not unusual in the initial phases of a Conversion, when a man still recoils from his inevitable Transformation. Not all recipients can be of the rare breed that eagerly seeks and praisefully embraces the Gift. While there is a special pleasure for the Brotherhood in inseminating willing recipients, even those who initially rebel will come in due time to acceptance and joy. The Brothers, for all their power to conquer, are merciful, and do their best to put a new Initiate at ease, whatever the circumstances. This man was alone among strangers, and as such the four Acolytes who had seduced him were the closest he had here to friends. Hence they now assumed their role as patrons and sponsors of his Baptism – godfathers, to use the Christian term. They flanked the man, two on each side, offering a tender hand on a shoulder, a gentle stroke of the back of the neck, a soft word of encouragement. He still bristled but it was clear that their touch brought him a measure of comfort. The five stood facing the altar as the Priest recited the familiar liturgy, demanding the Initiate’s assent to ascend to Membership, renouncing his former Status and embracing the Insemination that would forever mark him as a Man of the Blood. Here began the Ritual of the Test, which the reader will remember from Chapter I. It proceeded in much the usual fashion – the swabbing of the man’s saliva, followed by the twenty-minute interval during which he was to pass the time by swallowing Brotherly cock. His four young companions played their role with compassion, allowing him to approach cocksucking in the prim and tentative fashion typical of a man new to homosexual acts. The man’s metamorphosis to full-fledged slut would come soon enough. It must be admitted that the two Guards committed a slight breach of protocol, presenting their own cocks, gently but insistently, for the man to taste – for the brutal intimacy of their earlier struggle to subdue his valiant resistance had inflamed in them a powerful desire to possess him. Despite himself, the man welcomed their presentation, gobbling (if that word can be used for his fumbling, novice technique) their formidable endowments while the four Acolytes stood patiently aside. The time elapsed in due course and the Swab revealed its tidings: HIV-negative, an expected but not inevitable result (for those men who rage most insistently against the evils of Infection often enough harbor a hypocritical secret). The Priest, assured that the man’s blood was pure and prepared for Sacrifice, administered the final Oath. "Dost Thou now freely and willingly, knowing there is henceforth no retreat, no regret, offer up thy Status in exchange for full Manhood and entry into the dark Brotherhood?" A hush fell upon the hall as the chorus abruptly halted its insistent chant. A lengthy pause – how many minutes cannot be said, for time seemed suspended as all held their breath in anticipation. "I do," uttered a small and chastened voice. The Chapter Room erupted in cheers and applause – startling the Recruit and prompting the Priest to raise a chiding hand. The Brothers regained their composure and resumed the chant. Now his companions left his side and the man stood alone and naked before the altar. With a nod from the Priest, a burly Brother stationed in a shadowy corner of the Sanctuary engaged the winch that lowered the Sling to its anointed place. He stepped momentarily to its foot to make a trial thrust of his crotch, ensuring that the device was at a comfortable height for fucking. Taking their cue, a scrum of Brothers broke their ranks and surrounded the Initiate, raising him to their shoulders with hearty cries of “Congratulations!” He was hoisted into the Sling and, with a faint show of feigned struggle, strapped down. He watched wide-eyed as the Priest approached, knelt, spat on his anus and thrust his turgid tongue deep within, endowing it with a slick, viscous coating. All the while the Novice Brother, still basking in celebration of his newly achieved Status, had been intently watching the proceedings from his place of honor. Abandoning the pretense of modesty, he allowed his robe to fall open, displaying his cock, already at a pinnacle of throbbing erectness – and the proud new Biohazard that seemed to glow with its own inner light, a searing symbol of the young man’s new potency. The Priest nodded in his direction and he rose and approached the Sling to fulfill his duty. The young Brother’s body, seized by a power beyond his control, lurched of its own accord toward the fresh, exposed rectum. His cock, as if wrenched by the Dark One’s own hand, bore into the warm, moist hole and found its home deep within. The Initiate, gripped at first in terror, was shocked at how naturally his body opened to welcome the unfamiliar sensation of penetration. In mere moments the Novice was overcome with a supernatural spasm and a river of bliss poured up from his toes and down from the top of his head, flowing through his body and rushing out of his cock, bestowing the most bountiful ejaculation of his young life and overflowing the guts of the surrendered man. The Anointment that the eager young man offered that night was a coveted treasure: freshly poz semen with a viral load of more than two million. This first fuck by a newly infected Cock is the pinnacle of power. The supine man gave a glimmer of recognition that he had undeservedly been bestowed with a rare blessing, and his face betrayed for a moment a flash of peace and gratitude. Meanwhile the Novice, spent from his ceremonial duties, staggered back and withdrew his manhood, collapsing into the arms of the Acolytes. The Ritual had reached a climax, but the night was far from over. For the Initiate now faced a terrifying but exquisite trial, one he must endure alone. Without so much as a chant, the Brothers formed their lines and retreated from the chamber. The Acolytes extinguished the torches as they withdrew. The final steps echoed up the stairs and the heavy door slammed shut, its iron lock clicking home. The sanctuary fell into a deep blackness. As he lay alone in his bonds, the man’s heart pounded. He felt a low rush as the room took on a dank and stifling air – with an unmistakable hint of sulfur.

Hi guys, here's the next chapter... I plan to post one every weekend from here on out. Enjoy! VII. The Sacrament The Chapter was still rejoicing at the addition of an eager new Convert to their ranks. Now was the time for the special sharing that the newest Brother could bestow only in the springtime of his Gift. The haunting notes of the Initiation Hymn rang through the subterranean Chapter Hall, its ancient stone lightly trembling to the deep baritone thrum. Torches were lit in their iron rings with a spattering flare, casting a dim glow into the farthest recess of the crypt, where a hidden stairway spiraled to even lower Depths. As prescribed by the Ritual, the Brothers filed into the back of the sanctuary, forming an orderly semicircle on either side. To one side of the altar the newest Brother, his unhooded robe now bound with the crimson cord of a Novice, sat with the easy confidence bestowed by full manhood, upon an ornately carved chair of dark wood, padded in red velvet, with the Fraternal crest emblazoned on its back. To call it a throne would be unseemly, but with its restrained, masculine dignity it was without question a seat of honor. The young man’s radiant glow and gentle, indulgent smile betrayed a modest but well-earned pride. The Liturgy was familiar to the Novice, who had undergone a similar Initiation ceremony just weeks before. But there was one important difference. Rather than a mass anointment of semen injected by the gathered Brotherhood into a fertile and receptive hole, on this High Holy Night the recent Convert was to administer the Sacrament alone, drawing on the unique and beautiful power of his newly poz Cock, a brilliant but short-lived potency with a viral – or shall we say virile – load in the miraculous millions. A power granted by the Dark One with the commandment to deploy it, broadly but wisely, to bestow the Gift of Conversion on a few fortunate men. A dank, mysterious breeze wafted from unseen passageways as uneven footsteps tripped their way down the stone stairwell. The entry was less orderly than before, for the man being escorted was putting up a vigorous fight. Even beneath the loose-fitting robe his powerful build was unmistakable, and the two Guards, at the peak of fitness themselves, struggled to subdue him. In the scuffle the garment’s hood was wrenched off, revealing the wide, angular face of a man of some fifty years, with close-cropped silver hair and thick stubble. A fiery rage flashed in the man’s blue-gray eyes and his broad, muscled shoulders heaved and twisted as he battled his captors. As he thrashed, the neck of his robe fell open, unveiling a massive chest with thick nipples that stood defiantly erect through a forest of silver hair. The rough rope binding the cloak at the waist slipped open as it was pulled to and fro, allowing the sides of the robe to drape open gracefully, like stage curtains. The opening had barely widened a few inches when the man’s cock, powered by its own angry arousal, sprang forth – lifting along with it a ruddy scrotum easily the size of two fists, buried in a nest of silvery hair like steel wool. The massive orbs within the sac jostled and bounced as the man continued to exert all his force in an effort to break free. A shock of recognition swept the gathered Brothers – though their hood-shrouded faces kept their composure and the chant continued unabated, slowly gathering force. The Novice in his chair of honor felt an uneasy jolt course through his body. For the new arrival was no ordinary Recruit. He was an infamous foe of the Brotherhood: the pastor of a local megachurch, a potent political force in the conservative community. This “reverend” hosted religious broadcasts along with his shrewish, heavily made-up wife, where they raged ceaselessly against the evils of sexual sin. Nothing seemed to arouse his anger more than the spread of HIV, and he would spit violently as he cast his contempt on “filthy, AIDS-ridden homosexuals.” As he became aware of his surroundings a hint of fear tinged the anger in his eyes and his struggle ebbed slightly. He pulled himself to his full height, fixing a prideful but chastened glare at the altar before him. The eerie chant rose again in volume and tempo, as the High Priest emerged from the gloom. “Are you [citing his name]?” the Priest intoned in a resounding baritone. “I am,” the man replied, summoning his own imposing, masculine timbre, with just a hint of uncertainty. “Do you know why you stand before us?” “I have been brought here by force, against my will.” “You stand at trial as an enemy of our Brotherhood,” the Priest declared. “Tonight you are to be transformed. We give you a choice. You may accept with gratitude the Gift we offer, along with our forgiveness – or you may fight it and be marked as an outcast, both among our ranks and in those of your own hateful sect. Either way, you will receive forever in your body the Sacrament of our Faith, that which you have long reviled and blasphemed.” “Fuck you, you filthy f*****t,” the man snarled, straining anew at his bonds. The Guards tightened their grips, easily overcoming his now flagging resistance. The Priest remained calm. “You still have time to repent. We are men of grace and justice, and we extend the hand of welcome to those who gladly receive what we offer. Think carefully. A wise choice on your part will grant you entry to a Fellowship of Men far more powerful than the impotent religion which you now profess.” “Fuck you,” the prisoner repeated, this time with a noticeable shade less conviction. “Very well,” the Priest nodded. “Your resolve will be tested.” He glanced at the Guards, who turned the man roughly, forcing him to face the congregation. At this point a group of four Brothers, their faces cloaked like the others, their voices still chanting in mystical unison, broke from the ranks and strode in single file toward the altar, arraying themselves closely around the struggling captive. Even the thick robes could scarcely conceal their supple, athletic bodies. One by one the four men unfastened and cast off their garments, revealing breathtaking torsos, taut abdomens, hard-trained arms and trunk-like legs. These magnificent young men, all of them on the cusp of twenty, were the flower of the Brotherhood’s youth, each boy beguilingly beautiful in his own way. One was a golden blond with the first fresh bloom of auburn beard, a few tentative strands of hair adorning his broad, smooth chest. Another had mahogany skin, pitch-dark hair, and almond-shaped eyes set in a perfect, unwrinkled brow. The third was sculpted of priceless ebony, with chocolate hair tightly surrounding his massive skull and carpeting godlike genitals. The fourth, a sinewy redhead, was clad in pale, marble-like skin sketched with light blue veins and lightly sprinkled with freckles. A light tuft of ginger pubic hair topped his gently dangling uncut cock, more modest in size than the others but with a perfectly proportioned beauty. The young Brothers sparkled with an endearing boyishness, but moved with the earnest, meaningful manner of men about their work. The foursome laid their hands upon the trembling man, who gave a startled gasp and shuddered momentarily in the Guards’ tight grasp. The young men’s tender ministrations seemed to melt his resistance and he relaxed slightly, only tensing as each boy’s fingers caressed his most sensitive parts - grazing a nipple, gliding down his shivering back, gently cupping his prodigious balls, then stroking his still-stiffening member, which responded of its own accord, straining and twitching toward the vaulted ceiling. Soft lips and moist tongues explored every crevice of his quivering body. The man heaved a sigh, loosening his tension imperceptibly. As the blond boy slid into a kneeling position and brought full young lips toward the man’s pulsing cockhead, the prisoner seemed to resign himself to his fate, throwing his head back as he accepted the pleasure that was forcefully bestowed upon him. The strange words of the ancient chant rose and enveloped him, and the wide eyes of the Novice, still patiently waiting to perform his duty, glowed with intensity as he cast his gaze upon the scene. The captive’s ten-inch cock glided easily down the young blond’s practiced throat, and the other lads added their own stimulation – the black boy stretching his lips to envelop the massive balls, the redhead licking the lightly haired shaft and sharing its glistening head with his blond Brother in a tender kiss. Then the mahogany-skinned youth rose to his feet and turned to the congregation, backing toward the altar and presenting the smooth copper globes of his backside to the captive. He reached behind himself and stretched his buttocks from either side, revealing a taut, puckered hole that glistened with the spit with which his fellows had anointed him in pre-ceremonial preparations. The prisoner tensed anew, a look of terror in his eyes, but retained his stance as the boy backed himself onto the hard cock – which, with a will of its own, throbbed greedily as it slid in. All pretense of resistance was dropped as the man slipped his arms from the Guards’ now loose grasp and clenched the boy’s chest, tightly squeezing him as he pounded his loins hungrily, deep into the welcoming hole. Grunts and growls emerged from his grimacing lips and he shook, seemingly seized with an electrical force beyond his control. A sudden, final spasm exploded from his groin, his face contorted in simultaneous shock and ecstasy, and he emitted a guttural cry that echoed through the vaulted arches. His arms wrapped even more tightly around the brown-skinned boy and, despite himself, he grasped the young man’s face, turned it toward him, and kissed him passionately. Suddenly the captive seemed to come to his senses and pushed the boy away, his slick, semi-hard cock bouncing as it was roughly yanked from the tight young hole. The man staggered backwards, stumbling against the altar, and grasped his head in his hands. “What are you– get the fuck– I didn’t want–” he stammered weakly. The Priest stepped out of the shadows where he had been discreetly watching and addressed the man, as the four boys stood at attention, their own turgid cocks pulsing from their exertions. Abruptly the congregation interrupted its insistent chant, the dark notes reverberating for many minutes until they faded into stony silence. The captive’s heaving shoulders sagged, and a look of resignation came over his sweating face. “You know what you are, friend. Your body betrays you,” the Priest said gently. “You stand at a crossroads. Ahead of you could lie an endless bounty of the pleasure you have just tasted. If you cast your lot with our Order, you will claim the manly embrace of a community of lovers. We are truer to our Faith and more steadfastly loyal to our fellows than the brittle hypocrites who profess to be your disciples. Do you not wish to be one of us?” The man held a long, dejected gaze at the flagstone floor, seemingly lost in thought, while the gathered Brothers maintained silence. Finally, summoning a scrap of courage, he whispered, “What must I do?” “You shall be anointed this night with a life force that you will bear within your body forever. The entire Brotherhood will witness as your false manhood is stripped from you and you are laid bare as the naked and vulnerable boy that you have always been. “Once the Gift has been received within you, your past transgressions will be burned away in a fiery fever. I will not lie – it will be an ordeal, but one from which you will emerge a new and purified Man, the bearer of enormous power and privilege, but also of lifelong responsibility. You must promise to share our precious Gift with generations to come, as Scripture dictates. If you remain devoted to the oath of our Order, the Brothers will stand by your side unto death, and beyond.” The Priest held his words for the few moments it took his voice to echo and fade through the halls, then intoned, “Will you so solemnly swear?” The man stood transfixed for many minutes, daring not to look up from the floor. Finally he nodded, barely perceptibly. The Priest, raising his arms, repeated with greater force, “Will you so solemnly swear?” After one more moment of hesitation, the man drew a deep breath. “I will.” The Novice gasped lightly and shifted in his chair, adjusting the drapes of his robe modestly across his stirring lap. The Priest lowered his arms and clasped his hands before him. In spite of his solemn dignity, a light smile crept onto his lips. “Let us prepare the Service.”

So sorry, fellas -- I realized my profile pic is a mirror selfie. My tattoo is actually on my left, not my right. Fixed. 😈

VI. Confirmation A cold, clear dawn broke and the word went forth that preparations were to be made for a Mass of Confirmation. Auspiciously, the moon was to be full that night, another sign that the Powers of the Night had bestowed their blessing on the Initiate. The mood was festive and bustling as the Brothers scurried about preparing for the Feast. The Great Hall was festooned with garlands of nightshade and bittersweet. Long tables were laid with thickly wrought silverware and forged brass plates, each dish emblazoned with the Fraternal Greek letters: ΑΙΔΣ. The Brother Cooks busied themselves in the cavernous kitchens deep in the bowels of the House, roasting great slabs of stag, wild boar and other game. After a frantic day, the hush of dusk fell over the rambling stone complex. Finally the hour had arrived. The Acolytes descended first into the crypt, preparing the Chamber for the ceremony. The altar was polished to a fine sheen and fresh torches affixed to the walls. A winch handle was turned counterclockwise and, with a shriek of iron and a clash of chains, the sacred Sling of rough-sewn leather descended from the gloom of the arches above, until it halted, suspended in the center of the nave. The Brother Cantor began to lead the chant, followed in two lines by the gathered Brotherhood, clad in their finest robes. At the very end, flanked by the same two Guards who had forcefully overseen his Initiation, was the new Brother, beaming with pride and proceeding with a light stride, his limbs full of the manly vigor bestowed by the One, through the viral life pumping within. Gone entirely were the doubts and regrets that had plagued him before his initial Insemination. The Brothers descended the semicircular flights of stone stairs at either side of the narthex and took their places in the sanctuary. The Initiate was led forward and the High Priest, behind the altar, raised his arms in welcome, then leaned across the altar and offered a warm embrace, whispering “HAIL” in the young Novice’s ear. “We are gathered today to confirm our Brother’s new life and the irreversible dedication of his blood, body and soul to the Glory of the Powerful One and the Fellowship of the Holy Cock,” intoned the Priest. An altar server then brought forth the same sacred Coffer that had held the Test Kit, a lifetime ago. Lifting the lid, the Priest produced the slip of paper that the Brother Technician had delivered in the early hours of this blessed day. “A reading from the Word of our Lord and Master. The Congregation shall repeat after me: HIV-ONE INFECTION CONFIRMED BY PCR TEST.” The Men chanted in a deep bass unison: “HIV-ONE INFECTION CONFIRMED BY PCR TEST.” The Priest continued the Recitation: “VIRAL RNA DETECTED AT TWO POINT ONE MILLION COPIES PER MILLILITER.” And the Congregation responded: “VIRAL RNA DETECTED AT TWO POINT ONE MILLION COPIES PER MILLILITER.” The Priest concluded: “Praise be to the Dark Lord. Amen” And the Men too, their voices competing for the loudest and most praiseful note, intoned, “AMEN!!” “Herewith we bestow upon our Brother the Blessings of Manhood. For he has achieved the most sacred and treasured status HIV-POSITIVE. Forever shall it possess his Body. His former negative status is dead, sacrificed unto our Master for His glory.” The Guards then turned the Novice to face the gathered men, taking his robe from his shoulders to display him in his full nakedness. The weeks of rigorous training showed their glorious results. Here was a young man in his prime, with golden skin and the musculature of a Michelangelo sculpture. His radiant health laughed in the face of mortals who fear the Virus. The Brethren burst into spontaneous applause and the young man broke into a grin. His loins, too, showed their appreciation and his Member began its ascent into joyful turgidity. He was then led ceremoniously to the Sling, where the Guards laid him in position, his wrists and ankles firmly secured with thick leather straps. The Congregation drew nearer, gathering around for a close view. Emerging from the shadows was a Brother Artist, wheeling before him a cart of rough-hewn wood and forged brass rivets, laden with instruments and inks. He caressed the boy's hard young groin, feeling for the smooth, clean surface that had been designated for the Work. The Novice, in consultation with his Mentors, had made his selection from a richly endowed portfolio of sacred designs. Some were simple and stylized, a mere three intersecting, inward-facing semicircles. Others were intricately embedded in tribal designs, meant to turn broad shoulders and thickly muscled upper backs into a visual feast. A few younger Brothers, following the fashion of the times, opted for a Scorpion, evoking the poison sting with which He bestows his Blessing. But most, in respect for tradition, remained true to the Biohazard, the eternal symbol of our Clan and the central element of our Coat of Arms. Many examples in the book were specially revered in memory of departed Brothers who had proudly borne them until they passed below into the eternal sexual embrace of the One. The new Brother had opted for a bold and brazen badge, a good five inches in diameter. It would extend from just below his navel to where the root of his newly powerful Manhood sprouted proudly amid golden, lushly piled pubes – which the Artist now deftly shaved with a silver blade, exposing the skin for its inking. The Novice lay back in the Sling, bracing himself for the pain. The Guards pinned his shoulders down; one caressed his cheek and whispered words of courage in his ear, as the needle bore down and the Artist inflicted his excruciating wonders. Given the care and talent that went into the Inscribing, a good two hours passed before the beauty had been fully endowed. When it was completed, a fresh glory in blue and red against a crimson background of inflamed flesh, the Artist stood back and the Brothers strained to gaze on the glorious masterwork. The Biohazard shone like a beacon, drawing the eye to the boy's newly loaded weapon below it, which was thickening with pride. The men felt a power emanating from the fresh-inflicted ink, the Blessing of Him who now possessed this branded young body. Many a man’s Member swelled in lustful worship of the holiness embodied here. The restraints were loosened and the young Brother stood once again naked before his comrades, displaying a body still gloriously youthful but now marked forever. Tainted and no longer pristine in the eyes of the world -- but, to the enlightened gaze of the Brothers, endowed with a beauty beyond compare. (To be continued)

V. The Affirmation of the Blood The Brother Physician felt for a vein in the young man’s tightly muscled arm, and drew a vial of shining, crimson blood. This would be spirited away in secret to a lab, in the care of a Brother employed there, who was entrusted with some of the Chapter’s most sensitive secrets. For the Conversions that are the sacred heart of the Tradition must never be identified by the “authorities” or publicly recorded. The Brother Technician worked into the night, keeping the lab windows covered in dark cloth. A centrifuge whirred and sensitive instruments flickered to life. A laser printer heaved a sigh and spat forth a page full of cryptic scripture. What was produced there, known in prosaic terms as a lab report, was in fact, in the religious rites of the Brothers, a Baptismal certificate. Three more nights passed and the Initiate’s agony began to ease. He still had a moderate fever but he was completely conscious and his appetite had returned, enough to eat light meals. More importantly, his sexual drive was beginning to stir again. The Brother Medic smiled knowingly when, late at night, he observed the natural rhythms of the young man’s Member, stiffening and relaxing under the blanket. The Initiate felt a glorious, delicious desire, tinged with the knowledge that his Cock was now endowed with an awesome new power. Thinking of how he would soon carry out the duties of Manhood caused his heart to pound and his penis to swell. Brothers stopped by regularly to help the patient pass his days. They spoke of insignificant things, but also began to mix in light innuendo and sexual banter, the stock in trade of chatter in the Chapter House halls. A Brother known for his Daddy tendencies (he often sported a leather harness, even under his ritual robes, across his massive, furred chest) sat on the edge of the bed. The warmth and humor in his deep baritone voice were a balm to the Initiate’s ears. The man would jokingly punch the boy’s shoulder to punctuate an anecdote, once stroking his cheek in a light, affectionate way when wishing him a speedy recovery. Soon the innocent touch began to extend farther down the lad’s chest as he lay under a light cover. Not surprisingly, the Initiate’s loins responded and his manhood stirred, a blanketed mountain rising above his groin. The elder Brother continued his explorations southward, now lifting the blanket and gently caressing the young man’s endowment. Daddy Brother now dropped all pretense of mere joking. Lowering his face in earnest, he freed and grasped the throbbing young cock, which was flush and burning with fever. The older man’s lips and tongue were desperately hungry, straining to extract an offering of rare and exquisite value. For at this moment, the Initiate was ready to produce his first fertile ejaculation, teeming with fresh, young viral life. Daddy’s work was skilled and efficient, and in mere moments reached its conclusion. The fluid that was brought forth was thick, viscous and plentiful, the product of weeks of retention – of a tawny, mushroom color, with a correspondingly fecund and foresty flavor. In spasms that went on for nearly two minutes, the lad’s overflowing testes delivered a prodigious bounty, and the older man eagerly devoured it, taking the boy’s cockhead deep in his throat where it ejaculated directly into his guts. Brother Medic sat in a corner of the room, smiling tolerantly and lightly stroking his own crotch as he watched the lovemaking. This was an unplanned visit, not an official part of the Ritual, but still an important and necessary experience for a new Brother. The young man sat upright in bed, sweating anew, his eyes wide in shock and wonder, suddenly aware of what had happened. The older man smiled as he wiped his lips. “Congratulations, Brother. Your first toxic load.” As the flood of post-orgasmic release and satisfaction swept over the Initiate, he was filled with a deep sense of pride. A new chapter in his life was beginning. What splendid adventures awaited him! He would prime this, his newly endowed weapon, taking aim at desirable prey and harvesting them for the pleasures of the Brotherhood and the glory of His Dark Lordship. The first fingers of dawn were spreading across the sky as the Brother Technician finished his work. He secreted away the precious document, switched off the instruments and carefully returned the lab to its untouched state. Using hacking skills taught him by a Brother Coder, he logged into the university security system and wiped the record of his visit. He made his way back to the Chapter House, cutting through the campus. Out of the corner of an eye he noticed two furtive figures lurking between the statue of the University’s beloved late President (himself a secret Brother) and a bushy grove. Two fresh-faced young men were locked in passionate embrace, their hands wandering over each other, grasping desperately at the straining denim of bulging crotches. The Brother Technician smiled knowingly and affectionately at this expression of tender young love. The boys, lithe and athletic, caught his eye. Startled, they made as if to run away. But the Brother, schooled in the art of Mesmer, cast a powerful glance and they froze in their tracks. The moment was too brief, the distance too great, to apply the full hypnotic power with which the Brother had captured many a young soul. Though he was unable to cast the full Spell of Conversion Lust, he felt he had planted a seed. He would not be at all surprised if these two turned up at the Chapter House door one day, their young loins burning with the desire for Infection. He rounded the corner where the campus chapel stood by the student health center, and shivered in a sudden cold wave. These two edifices were hateful symbols of the enemies of the Brotherhood: Christianity, destroyer of ancient Pagan cultures and sexual freedom; and Medicine, dedicated to the senseless eradication of our beautiful Virus. Medicine had created the poison of HIV “treatment” that rips a hole in the heart of the Brotherhood. And, in a tragedy of immense proportions, in recent years the evil sect of Doctors had committed an act of sheer brutality, creating a potion that poisons men’s bodies against Conversion. The Brothers refuse to speak the poison’s four-letter name aloud, spitting in contempt as they refer to “the P word.” In the face of this enemy, their mission is more urgent than ever. They must work twice as hard to bring new men into the fold, lest their race become extinct. Entering an access code that silently opened a windowless gate in a high, spiked wall, the Brother passed into a cobblestoned courtyard, reaching the imposing Gothic portico of the Chapter House. The High Priest had given instructions to wake him, whatever the hour, with the glad tidings. The Technician hurried through a maze of halls, stairs and chambers to the Priest’s sumptuous quarters, tapped the secret knock, and delivered the precious testament into his superior’s hands. The Priest accepted the paper and examined it. After a moment’s contemplation, he closed his eyes reverently. The Brother Technician joined him in a moment of prayerful thanksgiving. The scroll bore a verse of the holiest scripture: HIV-1 INFECTION CONFIRMED BY PCR TEST. VIRAL RNA DETECTED AT 2.1 MILLION COPIES/mL. All hail to Him who giveth death-life. (To be continued)

IV. Fever Pitch The rhythm of life in the Chapter House continued in the days after the Conversion Ritual. Lives and loves were celebrated, laughter and the union of the flesh continued to strengthen the manly bonds of the community. An energy and excitement filled the air, as it always does in the sacred season of a Conversion. Rumors circulated that visits of the Dark One were more frequent in these days. None dared speak of them, but the chosen ones betrayed their secrets in their morning countenances of beatific, demonic bliss. In this mystical, magical time, the passions He bestowed on the men selected to submit to His desires were more exquisite, the pleasures they experienced more searingly, beautifully painful, than before. The Brothers had given their spirits entirely to their Lord and Master. He held those trembling and vulnerable souls, literally, in His massive and clawed hand, and, if it can be said, stroked and stimulated them to a climax of celestial – nay, infernal – passion. The explosion of secret joy, in the silent darkness where He takes His subjects, can only be called an orgasm of the soul. A good two weeks after the Ritual, news of infinite joy spread through the Chapter. The Initiate had woken in fiery, delirious fever, an angry rash spreading across his torso. The Fuck Flu: a unique and one-time experience in a young man’s life, of more significance even than a boy’s first ejaculation. This was a time to celebrate -- for the sickness meant that the lad, though he would walk through a searing fire in the days ahead, was making his final transition to glorious Manhood. A Brother Medic was assigned to attend the young man’s bedside at all times, wiping his burning brow with a cool cloth and tenderly raising his head to give him sips of fluid containing electrolytes (stirred in with a load of cum that had been donated earlier, with a wry smile, by a Brother known as a prankster). All the Brothers knew full well what their new comrade was experiencing, for they had gone through the same in their day. Along with compassion, they were filled with pride – and not a little jealousy, fondly wishing they could relive that age of excruciating growth and new discovery. The Initiate murmured incoherently as he thrashed about in his sweat-soaked bed. Fading in and out of consciousness, he was vaguely aware of having been taken on a journey that night – a dreamlike odyssey that bewildered his young mind. For the night had brought a moment that comes only once in a youthful Brother’s life: his first time chosen by the Dark One to be inseminated, taken to the darkest depths of pure pleasure -- a pleasure tinged with the realization that he had given his immortal soul, of his own free will, in exchange for an eternity of sexual ecstasy. His spiritual virginity had been taken from him. A searing pain in the Initiate’s entrails brought forth vague, flickering memories of a gargantuan phallus, a hooded obelisk of hard, dark, scaly flesh, wrapped in veins like thick jungle vines. Out of the darkness eyes of fire, impossible to gaze at directly, had bored into him. Invisible, powerful limbs had muscled his vulnerable body into position so that the massive pillar could penetrate him to his most intimate depths -- quite simply, fucking his soul. As a river of boiling ejaculate flooded into him, his temperature began to soar almost immediately. Youth and health were sucked out of him in an instant, leaving him drained and deathly ill. For in this moment, the Dark Father was bestowing a satanic sickness on his newest Son. While the medical profession diagnoses such a fever as the biological process of seroconversion, for us it is a mystical event, like the transubstantiation that is at the heart of the Christian Holy Communion. The transition of a man’s body through Conversion is the most hallowed miracle of our Religion, to which we bow down in reverent worship. Desperate antibodies deluged the Initiate’s tortured body as his immune cells made their final, pathetic fight against the overwhelming invader. They were doomed to fail, but while they made their impotent last stand, the body was inflamed with a deathly illness like nothing the young man had ever experienced. Two days into his fever, a doctor was summoned to his bedside – one of several prominent physicians who were secret Brothers. (The man was, in fact, the dean of the medical school at the local university -- a campus well known to the Brothers, for it was prime hunting grounds, full of bright-eyed and innocent undergraduates, their raging hormones and youthful, unexposed blood a tempting invitation). The doctor gave a fatherly smile as he examined the Initiate. His temperature – 103 degrees Fahrenheit – was in line with that typically bestowed by the family strain. The pounding headache was likely to subside within another two or three days; the rash would fade in a week or so. The Transformation was proceeding in a normal, healthy fashion. (To be continued)

III. A Deeper Love The ceremony at an end, the Brothers again arranged themselves in a semicircle, resuming the final chant. The Initiate was released. A robe was brought -- this one with the deep crimson cord of a Novice rather than the simple white he had worn before. He was taken away to private quarters, where he would be held in confinement for the next 72 hours, lest he be overcome by the urge to seek medical intervention in the form of PEP, an abomination that is sacrilege and treason to our creed. He would be well loved and cared for, and Brothers would continue to engage him in lovemaking both rough and tender, now intended not to infect – that work was surely done – but to strengthen the bonds of family. He would have access to a well-equipped gym where the Brother Trainer would kindly but firmly oversee his physical transformation. The Initiate understood that a final trial awaited in some days or weeks. Given the potency of their family strain, few Brothers, upon conversion, escape the most violent illness. The Fuck Flu is a painful ordeal – but a glorious one. For it marks a boy's final crossing through the fire, to the full triumph of Manhood achieved. Poz: he will have earned the high rank that is the culmination of a homosexual life. In the days and weeks after the Ritual, life resumed its normal rhythms in the chapter house. Each man ventured forth to his daily occupation, clad in quotidian garb and indistinguishable – on the exterior – from the common folk, who must never know his true identity. The Brothers hold important jobs: many are lawyers and politicians, artists and journalists, doctors and lab technicians (the last two fulfill crucial duties for the Brotherhood, as we shall see later). Their worldly success is an expression of the fraternal sustenance and the powerful secret network they enjoy. Evenings after the workday are reserved for fellowship: meals together filled with wine, laughter, and deep affection -- which is, of course, then given its full expression in muscular, manly copulation. Their passion for one another inspires the Brothers to take each other to new heights of ecstasy. In their tender mutual devotion, they learn the special desires of each Brother and strive to give him fulfillment. Some men need to be strapped into a sling and take cock after cock (this can take place in the Sanctuary, but only during consecrated chapter meetings). Some need to be clad in leather (of which the Chapter House possesses a vast storeroom), bound to a cross, their bare backs flogged to a deep crimson -- or their manhoods wired with electrodes, their bodies twisting in painful, jolting ecstasy at the hands of the Brother holding the console, who controls them completely. Others, oriented as tops, need to inject their load into the man they most covet -- whether selecting the young, tender flesh of the newest recruit, or directing their semen into the mature, hard-trained body of the most senior Brother. The objects of their desire are expected, within reason, to give their bodies freely, for they too have tasted the satisfaction of their own deepest fantasies. For men who need a fist in their gut, a Brother always stands ready to provide his muscled arm, up to the elbow or shoulder as required. Of course, some live to be bathed in piss, pouring forth from phallic fonts like holy water. For such a man, a gathering will be summoned -- five or more Brothers will endure the discomfort of drinking beer after beer and holding their bladders until the anointed time, so that their Brother in need can be deluged with steaming streams until he explodes in joy. Another form of ecstasy is little spoken of, but known to all. Deep in the night, in his most private moments, a man may feel himself summoned to serve as the vessel for dark Powers, beyond the grasp of mortal minds. When an ethereal Entity sweeps a Brother from his bed in the dark, the man must submit. He is carried to another plane, where his body is invaded, speared by one or more Members of supernatural proportions – his gut and throat pumped beyond imaginable capacity with gushes of ecstatic, ectoplasmic fluid. The men thus taken feel themselves ripped open, their holes and throats ravished. But when laid back in their beds they fall into a deep sleep and their flesh is regenerated. They wake with the same tight, muscular rectums they had as youth. But the unfathomable joys they have experienced during the night remain, coursing through them like a powerful current. This does not happen frequently, but when it does, the Brothers will observe the man in question at the breakfast table, his face bearing witness to a peace and joy like no other, his body bathed in a perceptible aura, almost an electrical force field. It is a coveted experience, on such a day, to make love with that anointed Brother, for the residual supernatural energy may rub off from the chosen one’s body onto his partner. Despite this link to the Beyond, the Brothers remain human. Amidst the supreme pleasures of the flesh the heart has its tender desires, and there is the natural tendency to fall in love. While the sin of sexual monogamy is frowned upon (and would impede the sacred duty of spreading the Faith), this unnatural vice is almost never encountered. Nonetheless, the Brothers may freely devote themselves to romantic love as nature decrees, and are encouraged to give their hearts to one another. Devoted relationships form, some of them bonding for life -- husbands and brothers at the same time. There can be no stronger connection between two men than sharing in the duties of Conversion. Not infrequently, a pair of Brothers will venture out and select an unknowing man to seed together (the sharing of the virus is not limited to ritual Initiations -- but the Brothers, just like Christians following Jesus' commandment, go forth as missionaries into the world). A threesome with such an impeccably beautiful couple is a powerful draw to an unsuspecting young man, and the chosen target, usually selected because of his expressed insistence on condoms, will invariably relent and accept their potent loads. Later, after the initial shock of an unexpected test result, that young man will most often adjust to the joys of his enhanced status, and -- if he is lucky enough to pinpoint the date of his infection -- have fond memories of the fuck of a lifetime. Romantic love is, of course, not limited to pairs. Lovers form special bonds of threes, fours and more. The Brothers know that love can expand almost infinitely. Just as a parent can have equal love for many children, a man can share a romantic connection with as many husbands as he realistically can devote proper care and affection to. (The High Council may offer wise and gentle advice in some cases to ensure that these relationships are healthy. There is no specific rule, but in general a union of more than five husbands can be hard to sustain while meeting everyone's emotional needs). It is a moment of special joy when a marriage is performed in the Chapter Hall. At one recent wedding, the four grooms, dressed in formal wear (above the waist only, of course), held hands in a circle while they recited their vows. The Priest declared them husbands, then asked the Congregation to affirm their support, declaring, "You may fuck the grooms." The four (in a gesture reminiscent of the Initiation ritual) turned and bent over the altar, at which point the gathered Brothers arose and penetrated the new quadruple, anointing them with sacred semen to seal their union forever. Love may take many other forms. Owners and slaves, masters and pups, daddies and boys -- the full spectrum of masculine love is acknowledged and celebrated. Only enforced chastity is considered anathema to religious practice -- for the locked penile cages that are popular in today's BDSM scene prevent a man from achieving erection and ejaculation. They may, however, be tolerated, within reason, in the form of temporary play, so long as the subject remains a man with full manly powers. Indeed, the privileges of Brotherhood entail next to no [banned word] in general -- except for drug abuse: antiretroviral treatment, to be exact, a deadly poison that deals a knockout blow to the delicate, beautiful viral life that stirs in the Brothers' loins. To subdue the Virus is to betray the sacred duty of the Brothers. As such, any indication of ARV use is grounds for excommunication -- an extreme measure which, thankfully, has only rarely been resorted to. (To be continued)

There are many adventures to come, don't you worry!

Hey guys, thanks for the encouragement. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to post subsequent chapters -- just as comments on this thread? Anyway, here goes: II. The Bestowing Hours and hours, deep into the night, the Brothers performed their sacred duty. Muscles heaved, sweat poured, solemn chants mixed with animal grunts, as erection after pulsing erection glided easily into the Initiate’s opening, now slick with sacred semen. Many a man delivered his life-giving load in just a few thrusts, but some, understandably, drew out their pleasure – savoring the delicious hope that, against the odds, their own strain would win the urgent race among the viruses now coursing through the boy’s bloodstream, jostling to be the one to change his destiny. If the extended lovemaking reached the point of self-indulgence, the High Priest would gently pat the top’s jackhammering hindquarters, signaling him it was time to complete his devotions. In those cases nary a split second would elapse before the copulating Brother released his Gift, shuddering in joy and emitting a cry of praise that rang in the gathered men’s ears like a hymn of our Faith. The young Pledge grimaced and at times thrashed, but the implacable Guards held him immobile, face-down against the altar. They did not use shackles, but rather on occasion would free one of the captive’s hands and compel him, while being fucked by one man, to stroke and suck the cock of the next, preparing him for the task at hand. (Truth be told, after many hours, some of the Brothers’ rigid members had flagged. There was no shame in needing some stimulation before performing their service at the young man’s reddened, pulsating buttocks. For indeed the dutiful congregants were patiently awaiting by the dozen their turn at the head – or should we say rear – of the line.) Yet every brotherly cock, as it took its place at the altar, instantly regained its maximum, marble-hewn magnificence – even those that during the long wait had shrunk to their smallest natural state. (To be sure, even when at rest, the Brothers’ flaccid penises outsized the full erection of the best-endowed “normal” man.) The men tensed and pulsed as they made their deposits, as ordered by the ancient rites. Just as, in Christian tradition, sacred words turn the wine to Jesus' blood, so the High Priest's mystical incantation calls forth powers of the cum that is, like the Christian communion, at the very heart of our Religion. In the secret tongue he uttered the Prayer that must never be heard outside these walls: "O Dark Lords, we beseech You to bestow upon us the blessed Gift: the power, from our loins, to plant our seed in fertile soil. A seed that represents burgeoning Life, but also the genesis of Death. "Grant us a mystical union of Men that endures unto the grave and beyond. We commend unto You in sacrifice the youth, health, cleanliness of blood and purity of soul of our newest Brother. Take them from him. Remove from him those pale tokens of human frailty and grant in their stead a power greater than mere mortals can ever fathom. "A power to bond in the most exquisite pleasure, unbridled sexual union, with Men of the same Blood. And to receive, in dark congress, the penetration of our Overlords from the nether realm when they come to us in the night and take what they desire of our human flesh -- giving us in return the purest ecstasy beyond our human capacity to understand. "Grant us these gifts, O Lords. We pour forth as commanded the holy nectar of life. Let it penetrate and transform this Pledge. Take the boy he was, strangle the pathetic mortal life from him, and give him rebirth in glorious full Manhood. "This we pray in the name of Cock, our almighty deity." The Brothers had all delivered forth their precious Devotions from the rock-hard sacred Shafts into the moist, dark, fleshy Chalice that was perfectly designed to receive them. They had exerted every muscle in fulfilling their solemn duty. Rippling torsos gleamed with sweat in the crackling torchlight. Gloriously massive cocks, their hours of diligent work at an end, began to relax from attention, slick with the offerings of the many Brethren who had shared the holiness. The lovemaking had provoked a powerful feeling of blessed togetherness. Now that the raw, animalistic fucking necessary to brutally inject the virus into the new Pledge had finished (it was not without pain and bleeding -- much like childbirth), the tender side of their brotherly love emerged. There were embraces and passionate kisses, and a mingling of taut, muscled limbs as piles of satisfied men fell into each other's arms on the flagstone floor. The High Priest, who was, as protocol decreed, the last to deliver a load (his fourth or fifth of the Service), welcomed this tender moment, and approached the huddle. Seeing the men reclined and entangled, he lifted his spectacular member – even at rest a good few inches longer than most of the Brothers’ full erections – in his hand. A powerful stream of gushing yellow rushed forth. Another holy benediction. The Priest doused the men liberally with its blessings. Mouths opened eagerly to receive their divine liquid benediction. His cock began to stiffen again, aroused by this feeling of family bonding. He allowed the more eager of the Brothers to swallow him, giving a warm balm to throats that were fatigued from chanting and grunting all night. When he felt a sixth eruption of semen gathering force in his loins, he quickly strode to the Senior Brother, a man who could only be described as godlike: golden blond, six-foot-three with chiseled features, icy blue eyes, a magnificent chest lightly dusted in golden hair, and rippling muscles of breathtaking beauty. This Brother, by virtue of his high station -- and, it must be admitted, of an admirable viral load that had maintained its peak of nearly 1 million, years after the Brother crossed over into viral Manhood -- had the privilege of designated Alpha status. This meant exclusive top duties, not only in anointing negative Pledges with his toxic gift, but in recharging Brothers to help top up flagging strains. His potency, in both sexual prowess and viral toxicity, was legendary. This night he had so dominated the Pledge -- delivering a minimum of ten injections -- that the Brethren were certain that his strain would prove the viral Alpha, muscling out the dozens of others that were competing to be the first to overwhelm the formerly strong, young immune system that was destined to be subdued and possessed. The High Priest approached this man. He might be an Alpha, but the Hierarchy must be observed. The Priest lightly stroked his cock and the Alpha knew what to do. He assumed position, turning his deeply rippled back to the Priest. His Brothers helped support him as he leaned, presenting his hard, muscled hindquarters to his Superior. So tight was his hole that assistance was needed in the sacramental Penetration. Willing Brothers lent their tongues to the task, preparing the muscular, manly orifice for its humbling. The Priest was ready to take what was rightfully his. In a single, powerful stroke he drove his manhood -- dare I say godhood -- deep into the most private and intimate part of the Alpha Brother. He grasped the man's muscled shoulders, hard as granite, while he pumped in piston strokes, as powerful as a steam engine. Finally the seed streamed forth deep into the man's cavity. The degraded Alpha cried out in pain and humiliation -- and in love and devotion to his Master. For the Priest had earned his station through many years, and had himself taken countless such Injections. His infection was beyond legendary: a viral load in the millions, in theory resistant to every medication (not that he had, or would, try them). An ejaculation from him virtually guaranteed that a man would retain his potency and be blessed with many offspring. For this the Brothers were grateful and, despite the pain and shame of being raped before the entire assembly, eagerly accepted what was being forced upon them -- for it was a precious gift. This flow of sacred semen came in spurt after spurt. The Priest's buttocks clenched and unclenched repeatedly in involuntary spasms, fulfilling their hard but anointed labor. He tensed his entire body and a guttural, animal roar emanated from his throat. This, the final orgasm of the endless night, marked the official close of an indescribable marathon of impossible ecstasy, both deadly serious and bathed with pleasures only the powers of His Dark Lordship could endow. (To be continued)

Brotherhood of the Bug I. Initiation The young man felt himself being led down a winding stairway, flanked by two powerfully built men. His sinewy arms were shackled behind his back and the deep hood of an enveloping robe obscured his sight. Though the garment was of a thick, rough material, he shivered. His memory of what had led to the current chain of events was vague, but he felt a mixture of terror, excitement, and a powerful, animal arousal. Reaching the bottom, he heard the creak of a heavy set of doors. As the three stepped through, his companions pulled the hood off his face and head, and he felt a light, dank breeze touch his face. His eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom and he perceived a vast, low room of rough-hewn stone. He imagined it resembled the crypt of a medieval church, though at his young age he had seen little of the world. Thick stone pillars held flickering torches, the dark smudges on the arched ceiling above attesting to countless stories, if only these massive walls could tell them. He was led toward the other end of the room, where a raised altar of polished wood stood on a stone platform. Here the resemblance to a house of worship was unmistakable. The men turned him around to face the chamber, just in time to observe two columns of dark-robed men emerging from doorways at either end of the back, proceeding slowly and forming semicircular lines at either side. As they filed in, their voices in unison gave rise to a deep and vaguely disturbing chant in some unknown language, like the Gregorian chant of medieval monks. Now the two guards firmly turned the Pledge back toward the altar, forcing him to kneel. From the gloom behind, an imposing man of at least six-feet-five emerged, cloaked and hooded in a robe similar to the Pledge’s but with a cord of gold where the boy’s was a simple white. This, he recognized, was the High Priest. He trembled but simultaneously felt a rush of blood to his groin. The Priest began the ceremony, posing to the Pledge a series of questions to establish that he was serious in his desire to join the Brotherhood and aware that this was an irreversible step of the deepest significance, one that would place upon him a heavy responsibility to carry on the traditions and values of the clan. When the Pledge had answered "I do" to each solemn oath, the Priest produced a heavy coffer of wood and gold, richly adorned with mysterious images and inscrutable runes. He lifted the lid to reveal an interior lined with dark velvet. Nestled inside was an Oraquick instant HIV test. The Priest lifted the swab from the sacred Coffer and held it toward the assembled Brothers, then downward toward the floor, asking the blessing of the Dark Lord. Then the two guards immobilized the Initiate's face and forced his mouth open. The Priest inserted the swab and vigorously rubbed it around the back of the gagging young man’s throat. Again he held the swab aloft and then downward, uttering an occult prayer for the desired results. It was placed in a vial and the lid closed for the prescribed waiting time. A thick, ornate hourglass was placed on the altar and turned. While the grains of sand sifted down, the Initiate was occupied. The two guards opened the fronts of their robes, revealing rippling abs and cocks of supernatural proportion. The Initiate's mouth was held open once again as these colossal spears of flesh were forced repeatedly down his throat, one after the other. At times he was compelled to swallow them both together, as the Brothers aligned their shafts, a symbolic Union of their flesh just as they are united in the Spirit and Blood. The young man’s mouth and throat were forced open wider than ever and he gagged and struggled. But the two Brothers held him down relentlessly. Eventually their robes were cast off, revealing torsos of magnificent, nigh on terrifying musculature. There was clearly no sense struggling and the Pledge resigned himself, barely staying conscious by gasping for whatever small breaths he could take between the ten-inch strokes. The hourglass proceeded... agonizingly slowly. The Brothers continued their chant. It was growing in volume and urgency. Finally the last grains of sand dropped. Twenty minutes, the anointed time, had passed. The Pledge was released, the flesh that had choked his throat withdrawn. He was allowed to recover enough to fix his attention on the High Priest, who raised the lid of the coffer and retrieved the sacred Staff. He examined it first, and a small, knowing smile showed on his face. Then he showed it to the Pledge. A single blue line. Negative. Next the two Guards, as witnesses, examined the result, affirming their acknowledgment with a low utterance in the ritual tongue. The Priest held the Staff aloft, and one final question was posed to the Initiate. "This, O Pledge, represents the final evidence of Thy former self. Dost Thou now freely and willingly, knowing there is henceforth no retreat, no regret, offer up this, Thy health and youth, the status so coveted by mortal Mankind, in exchange for full Manhood and entry into the dark Brotherhood?" "I do," the Pledge muttered. The Priest then offered the Staff in sacrifice to the Dark Gods -- holding it, of course, not aloft but downward, toward the unfathomable Depths. The chanting had reached a crescendo of intensity, vibrating deep in the gut and soul of the Initiate. He almost sensed that he could understand the strange tongue: "The hour has come. The bridge has been crossed. There is no returning now. Bid Thy farewell to the land of the mortals. Thou art summoned to take Thy place among Men, carrying the burdens but also tasting the unimagined freedoms that pertain thereto." At this point there was a rustle as the Brothers began to unfasten their robes. Revealed were torso after torso, groin after groin, of magnificent, rippling masculine beauty, shining in the torchlight. The manhoods of each began to stir, rising to their glory, each pumped full of the blood that carried the coveted viral power that it was now time to share. The two Guards roughly grabbed the Initiate's robe and rent it as it was stripped from his body. Fear had risen in his throat and he felt an instant regret. What have I done?? he cried inside. The Priest, sensing what was happening, gave a gesture ordering the Guards to muscle the Pledge down, his struggles seeming ever more wretched and impotent -- the pathetic last struggles of the boy that was about to die. The Brothers began to approach and form lines, pacing in unison toward the altar. Their glorious shafts had reached their pulsing, turgid apex, in full worship posture -- the gleaming pre-cum, like holy water, consecrated to the dark Baptism that was nigh. The Initiate was roughly bent over the altar, his youthful buttocks exposed and vulnerable. As the chant reached an almost unbearable volume and intensity, the Initiation began…