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As I lie here browsing Breeding Zone, it occurred to me that I probably don't have that long left. With that in mind, why don't I tell my story? It all began 6 years ago in earnest, but the situation I find myself in has probably been set in stone for the entirety of my life. 6 years ago, this was me:
I was 23, I worked hard on my body, and made sure I looked good. I was training to be a nurse, had a boyfriend, house, car, the lot. Life was going well, and the sex with my boyfriend was fantastic. However, there was a part of me that he could never fulfill. It wasn't a part of me that I ever thought would be fulfilled. I used to fantasize about being pozzed. The thought of it drove me wild. Only ever a small thing at first, a thought that would drift into my head on occasion if I was jacking off, but later it became all I could think about. The thought of toxic death being pumped into my hole - heavenly.
The fantasies grew, and I used to jack off thinking about getting knocked up and then pozzing my boyfriend. Obviously I could never tell him this, and as much as I loved him he had a real bias against guys with HIV. I knew that this was a secret I had to keep to myself, but as I fucked his ass at night I used to pretend I was putting him to death as I cummed.
Things changed when I got into work one cold, January morning. I was on assignment in a dermatology ward. Mostly spotty teenagers and old women with psoriasis. I was bored, and I'd told my boss at the time that I wanted a new challenge. "Good news, we're moving you", she said. I could tell she was delighted - she hated me, and the feeling was mutual. "Where am I going?" A smirk crossed her face - "There's a hospice downtown that needs a new nurse". Bitch. Hospice duty was notorious for being an awful assignment. Death all around, people at the lowest ebb of their lives. You were told as a junior nurse to try and avoid it at all costs. How ironic that that's where I now find myself...
Anyway, off I went to the hospice. It was in a fairly run down part of town. I sent my boyfriend a picture that morning:
And he sent one back:
Fuck he was hot - I made a mental note to not even say hello when I got home that night - I'd push him into the wall and fuck his tight hole until I exploded. I messaged back, 'Make sure you're lubed by 6pm x' and put my phone away. I could smell death as I headed into the hospice, and my inappropriate horniness soon died away. It upset me, the poor souls in here at the end of their lives, but I tried to put on a brave face. My new boss was a mousy little woman, and you could tell that the stress of working in this place for years had got to her. She perked up a little bit when she saw me though. I could see her, looking at me in my tight uniform. 'You're barking up the wrong tree dear' I thought.
We did the rounds, checking in on each patient. It was mostly older patients, and mostly women. I did my introductions and we checked vitals. "Now," the boss said. "This next patient - I want to warn you, this is a sad case. He is in the advanced stages of AIDS". I felt my cock jump, I couldn't help it. "This particular strain is a nasty one. No medications have worked for this patient. He was diagnosed as HIV+ 10 years ago. His condition has deteriorated at a phenomenal rate". Why oh why did I have such tight pants on? My cock was rock hard and I was praying she wouldn't notice. I moved the clipboard in front of my crotch. "He has no family or friends it seems," she whispered. "He looks awful, I'll warn you. You must take extreme caution around this patient. Gloves to be worn at all times please. He has a number of other STIs, but we can't treat them as we don't think his body could cope with the medication at this stage. He's very near the end".
We walked in to see the patient. He looked awful. Skeleton thin, lesions all over him. He coughed, a long, raspy rattle that made it sound like his lungs were trying to escape through his throat. He looked over at me and his eyes lit up. He smiled a toothless grin. He was 50 but didn't look a day under 90. "Hello," he whispered. "Good Morning Mr. Pearce," the boss said as she pulled on some gloves. She nodded towards to glove box and I started to put on a pair. "Please..." he rasped. "Call me David". We did his vitals, which weren't great, and as I made notes I could see him staring at me. Mentally undressing me. My cock was aching, trying its best to force its way out of the fabric of my pants. What was I thinking? This man had a fast-acting strain of HIV. He was dying of AIDS. But my cock didn't care. It wanted him. I decided to be daring, and I moved the clipboard. I could tell he noticed my straining cock straight away. He licked his lips greedily. I put the clipboard back.
"Who is your friend?" he said to the boss. "This is Nurse Bateman, he just started with us today". She had a way of talking down to patients that was starting to annoy me. "Good Morning David, nice to meet you". He flashed me a wicked smile. "The pleasure is all mine". We finished his checks and the boss gave him a little something to help him sleep. Before I knew it it was lunchtime. I hurried to the toilet and locked the cubicle door. My pants were down in seconds and I was milking my cock, thinking of David, imagining riding his toxic cock. I cummed hard, just as my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the boyfriend. "How's the job going?" Just then, a wicked plan began to form in my mind.
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