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I'm not going to lie: the first one hurt. Despite the lubing and fingering I had engaged in on the car ride over, the rough, uncompromising entry of a very girthy, pierced dick was painful. The guy wielding this silver-ringed phallus was aggressive and clearly riled up, so I had little choice but to just stay bent over and yelp my way through a hard pounding until, thankfully, he spurted his toxic babies in me after only a few minutes.

Thereafter things got a bit easier, as the two guys that followed weren't nearly as well-hung and my anus had relaxed a bit and been lubed some more by the first load.  They both lasted longer than the first guy, meaning he was good to go again by the time they were done. Fortunately it was a more comfortable fucking second time around.

I stayed over the barrel for quite a while, only occasionally getting a moment to stand up straight and stretch before someone else stepped up to have a go in me. I was aware there were other men in attendance after a while, but I have no idea if any of them were poz as they weren't particularly vocal. I suppose it didn't matter though, as by that point I was on a second consecutive night of taking highly toxic loads so was probably well on my way to conversion anyway.

Things shifted up a gear when a large group of men arrived en masse, such that I wondered if they had come on some sort of pozzing coach excursion. Once they were there I was allowed to move from the barrel to the filthy mattress, and was then flipped repeatedly between missionary and doggy-style positions depending on each fucker's preference. As the night wore on and my hole got looser and looser, they moved on to double-fucking me, again in various positions, and often with a lot of poz talk to keep everyone aroused. Interestingly, all focus throughout the night was on my rear end, with only the occasional presentation of a dick to my face for me to lick or suck, and usually only to clean after it had fired off in my backside. I was otherwise free to occasionally smoke when Gus or Steve presented a cigarette to me, and otherwise just stare ahead of me to the water or up through the trees to the starry night sky.

Throughout all this I was increasingly in a trance-like state, almost like I was witnessing this happening to someone else. I was obviously feeling all the fucking, the changing of positions and the hard slaps on my buttocks some of the guys chose to land on me, but somehow it didn't feel real and as such I didn't entirely engage. Perhaps some of the guys there would have preferred me to be either begging for their loads or whimpering like I was being raped, but I didn't really utter much at all after my yelping during that first brutal fuck. I don't know, maybe it was a defence mechanism to help me mentally cope with what I was allowing to happen to me.

However, in time it all started to take its toll, and I was apparently wincing for the first time as two well-hung guys ploughed into me in tandem. This is when Steve and Gus started to bring things to a close, but not before I had taken their loads in the final double-fucking of the night. They then hauled me up from the mattress and handed me a bottle of water.

"You did good, boy" said Gus.

"Thanks" I whispered.

"You sore?" asked Steve.

"Yes" I replied, "but I'm OK."

"Good boy" Steve said. "Now let's get your hole cleaned up so you don't mess up the car on the way home."

They made me squat near the river before squirting water out of a couple of bottles at my backside, and then handed me some wet wipes and a towel to finish off the job myself. There were still a few of the other men hanging around and it was all a bit bizarre doing this with an audience, but at least they weren't fucking me any more. Once clean, I threw all the wipes and towel in a plastic bag Gus held open for me, and then we set off back through the bushes to the car. I was sore, but it was still a blessed relief to sit down in the back seat once we got there.

"Relax boy" said Gus, as Steve started driving us home, "you're going to get a bit of a break for a couple of days now, apart from us two needing your holes."

"But tomorrow" continued Steve, looking at me in the rear-view mirror as he drove along the deserted roads, "we'll be taking you out to start your other conversion."

"My other conversion?" I asked.

"Yes boy" said Gus. "It's one thing to have the virus, which I'm sure you will do soon, but it's another to actually look like a true poz cumdump. Tomorrow we'll get you started down that road too."

I started trying to form the questions that were entering my head, but then sighed and turned to look out of the window.

"Yes sir" I responded quietly.

"Good lad" Gus said, before we then drove the rest of the way in silence. Once back at their house I took and shower and then limped to bed, my arse starting to ache more and more, all while my head was swirling with anxieties, questions and flashbacks. What would they be doing to me tomorrow? What did a true poz cumdump look like? What if I didn't want to have done to me whatever they were planning?

Eventually physical and mental exhaustion took me over, and I turned on to my side and closed my eyes.

"What will be will be" I whispered to myself, before drifting off to a restful sleep.

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I slept for hours, finally being woken by the amount of light in the bedroom. I soon needed an urgent piss, and as I got up, donned the now rather used leather jockstrap I had left on the floor, and headed for the bedroom door I noticed a real ache in my rear end. Those guys the previous night had really done a number on me.

While I urinated, some of the things Gus and Steve said to me the night before went back through my head and I felt a significant churn in my stomach at the prospect of what might await me. If anything I was more nervous about this next stage than I had been about getting pozzed, presumably because they clearly intended to change how I looked and that wasn't going to be something I could just hide from friends and family back home.

I stood at the toilet for a while after my flow had finished, before drawing a couple of deep breaths, washing my hands and then heading downstairs. I was only wearing the jockstrap, but assumed there would be no issue with that. Gus and Steve were in the kitchen drinking coffee, and both looked up at me and smiled as I came in.

"Morning" said Gus. "You sleep well boy?"

"Hi" I replied. "Yes sir."

"Good lad" said Steve.

"Ready for the day?" asked Gus, giving me a sly smile.

"I don't know" I replied. "What will you be...be doing to me Sir?" I continued.

"Nothing you don't want" said Steve, giving me a more gentle look than Gus was. "We'll be taking you to a few places, giving you a few options, and then you can decide for yourself."

I nodded and looked down at the floor. "What sort of places?" I asked.

"Just wait and see" said Gus.

"Now" said Steve, getting up and heading across the room, "you can't go out like that, so Aid has dropped these over for you."

He handed me a cloth bag, which when I looked inside appeared to have some of my clothes.

"He also left this for you" said Steve, turning round and picking up a box off the counter that he also then handed to me.

I opened it up to reveal another smaller, flatter box inside, which seemed pretty fancy and heavy. I opened it up, to be confronted with the largest silver chain I had ever laid eyes on.

"Wh..." I mumbled, looking up at the two of them.

"Don't ask us" said Steve. "He told us it was a gift for you from an admirer."

I plonked the box down and lifted the chain out, only then realising just how heavy it was. At least an inch wide, it had to weigh a kilo or more.

"Well" said Gus, "you better put it on."

I hesitated, and then undid the boxy clasp and put it around my neck and re-secured it. It felt so heavy, but also so good.

"Sexy stuff" said Steve, winking at me. "Someone must really have a thing for you."

I turned towards the oven to get a bit of a glimpse of my reflection in the glass, and loved what I saw. I had never worn any jewellery, nor even thought about doing so, but I was immediately taken with how this beast of a chain looked on me.

Gus had begun rummaging through both boxes the gift had been in, but then turned towards me and shrugged.

"No card, no nothing" he said. "But someone you've put out for must really have wanted to see you in this."

I stood gazing at my reflection for a bit longer, before I felt a sharp slap on my exposed buttcheeks.

"Enough of the self-loving" said Steve as he bounced away from me. "Get some proper clothes on over that jockstrap, then have something to eat. The coffee's hot."

About an hour later I had eaten, and was dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a tight black tank top, whilst the new chain was on full display. We then headed out in their car again, driving a little while to a set of shops on a quiet road in some part of the city I didn't recognise. I still didn't have my mobile phone, so remained in the dark once more about where on earth in Sydney I was, something I was getting used to as I largely just did what the guys told me to.

After parking the car we wandered up to a tattoo parlour, which hadn't yet opened so we paused on the pavement outside to have a cigarette. In time the owner appeared on the other side of the door to turn over the Open sign, and then we went in.

"G'day Gus, Steve" said the owner, a big bear of a man wearing a muir cap. "What can I do for you today?"

"This is the friend we called you about the other day" replied Gus. "He's here to see what you're proposing."

"Ah, I thought so" replied the owner, looking me up and down. "Got yourself a bit of a stud this time. Well, let's get to it then."

This time, I thought, as we headed through a curtain into a back room. Clearly I wasn't the first to be going on this journey.

The owner walked over to an island desk, and pulled out a portfolio from a shelf below it. He opened it up at a certain page, and then turned it around towards me. I slowly walked over to see a series of sketches on a generic man's body of an array of tattoo art, including some designs on the upper arms and lower legs. However, what really caught my attention were the sketches from the front and back, the former showing a large biohazard design on one of the pecs, whilst the back one had a scorpion design below the neck and then fairly large letters on the upper buttocks spelling out CUM DUMP. My eyes must have widened significantly, as both Gus and Steve started laughing.

"What do you think, boy?" chuckled Gus.

"I..." I mumbled, unable to really form words. Was this really what they wanted to put on me? Could I say no? Did I even want to say no? Why was my dick getting hard?

"You don't have to say yes or no now" said Steve. "What Irwin here is going to do is draw on some of this with a marker so you can see how you feel about it for a few days. Then, if you want it, you can get his brother in London to actually ink it in when you get home."

I stood there staring at the images, before a wave of calm mixed with euphoria rushed over me.

"No" I said.

"No?" asked Gus.

"No marker" I said quietly. "I want the needle."

I'm not sure where this was coming from, but I also knew I was sure about it. Maybe it was a rash decision, but as I stood there looking at the sketches of some generic man, I somehow realised who I was and what I needed to be. I *was* a cumdump. I *was* probably well on my way to being poz. Why not just be that man?

"Are you sure?" asked Steve, who looked a little ruffled as I turned to face him. "You don't have to."

"No, I want to" I said, then turning to the man whose name I now knew was Irwin. "When can we start?"

"Blimey boy, you don't beat around the bush do you?" he replied. "Well, I've got no bookings this morning so we can start right now. But it will take a few sittings to get it all done."

"Fine" I said, maintaining eye contact with him. "Let's start on my arse and then work through the rest from there."

My sudden and unexpected determination was clearly not something any of them had been prepared for, but things soon moved on and Irwin got me prepped to begin. Gus and Steve hung around for a bit, but decided to head on out to pick up some of the other things they had initially planned just to show me, given I was clearly up for a big change.

Getting tattooed hurt, there's no denying it, but I barely flinched or uttered a noise as Irwin began to transform my smooth, tanned, unadulterated skin. By the end of a marathon session he had adorned my behind with its permanent advert to other men, the outline of the scorpion on my upper back was mostly done, and he'd even made a start on my arms. The biohazard would come when I had truly converted.

Gus and Steve picked me up later on, and took me to another place in some other suburb. There, while working around my need to not sit down on the new letters stamped on my behind, my ears were pierced and big silver studs put in them, and my nipples got the same treatment. It all hurt like fuckery, but I seemed not to care. From there we went home, and I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in various positions trying to get comfortable, smoking to deal with my restlessness, and eventually riding their cocks and taking their viral loads in a bid to feel something more pleasurable.

By the time I went to bed my head was somehow both numb and super busy. In the space of a couple of days I had gone from being a hot young guy with any future he wanted ahead of him to someone who was permanently marked as a poz cumdump slut both on the outside and, probably soon, the inside as well. How would anyone at home ever understand? Would I even be able to resume any degree of normal life? Would I be rejected by everyone I knew and loved?

These thoughts, and the pain in various parts of my body, plagued me for hours until sleep took me and I passed out.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Over the next few days I fell into a bit of a rhythm, getting tatted each morning, resting in the afternoon, and then taking toxic loads wherever and whenever Gus and Steve decided in the evenings. Sometimes locations and positions had to be changed to allow for minimal issues with my fresh ink, but what remained consistent is that while I was getting pounded I would only be wearing the jockstrap, the big new chain, and maybe some form of footwear. After a few days I was taken back to the piercing place to get the studs replaced with big chunky hoops, after which I was moved on to a salon to get my hair cut and shaved into a new style that just screamed "slut" when I finally saw the reflection.

Eventually all the main ink work was done, and just in time too as I started to feel a bit rough. Guessing what was coming, Gus and Steve packed up what things I had at their place and drove me back to Aiden and Peter's apartment. I was welcomed back with big smiles and a lot of appreciation for my new look, before being ushered into bed.

What followed I later learned was the 'fuck flu', and I felt about as bad as I had ever done. I was never entirely with it, but was occasionally aware of one or more of the guys being beside me and looking after me. I'm not even sure how many days it went on for, but finally the symptoms passed and I was able to get up and leave the bedroom. Aiden then took me to a clinic to get tested to confirm that I had now converted, before driving me back to Irwin's tattoo parlour to get the final part of the work done.

That evening as I sat back at Peter and Aidan's place, trying not to fidget with the big biohazard sign adorning my right pec, they finally told me that I had been sick for so long that I had actually missed my flight home. They reassured me that they had sorted things for the time being with Home Affairs and that I hadn't gone AWOL somewhere in the country, but advised me to call my family and explain.

It was then that I found myself wondering whether I really wanted to go back. Some of this was the fear of what might happen when everyone saw me, but by then I was also feeling like maybe I belonged in Sydney. I suspected Jurgen had been the one to buy me the big chain, and I sort of had an itching inside to explore that a bit more as I did really like the guy. I loved being somewhere so sunny, where I could wear a minimal amount and show off both my body and my new ink. I had grown really fond of Aiden and Peter, and actually felt a lot of warmth towards Gus and Steve. These guys all really knew me, accepted me for who I was, and had helped me to get there myself. Back home no-one did, and I suspected not one of my friends would understand or be able to get on board with it. I'd have to start over, in the grey drabness of Brexit Britain.

After an evening of quietly contemplating all this, the next morning I spoke to Aiden about it. Being a lawyer, I thought he might know a bit more about whether it was even a possibility for me to stay if that's what I decided I wanted to do. It turns out they had been talking about whether to ask me if I would consider staying, and had even done the legwork on finding out how it might work.

To cut a long story short, one filled with many conversations with my baffled family and a lot of red tape, I enrolled at the University of New South Wales after arranging a transfer of the place I had been offered at the University of Nottingham back in the UK. I stayed on in Australia under a student visa that allowed me to work, and got a job as a barista in a trendy coffee shop that seemed to appreciate having staff who were inked and pierced.

I moved in with Jurgen, initially just taking a small box room he had for a notional rent, but in reality sleeping with him in his room each night as our relationship blossomed into something loving. He had indeed been the secret admirer who had bought me the chain, and over time he added to my collection with big chunky bracelets that I wore on each wrist. I tried to resist his spending on me, but in truth he earned an absolute fortune as a property developer while having few desires of his own other than what I could offer him in companionship. It was a bit of a sugar daddy relationship, but I eventually realised I loved him and certainly never took any of it for granted.

I did make some friends at the university, particularly through an LGBTQ group, while also continuing to spend a lot of time with Peter and Aiden, Gus and Steve, and variously with all of their friends. Jurgen and I were not exclusive, and indeed he seemed to greatly enjoy watching other men fuck me, so there were regular parties that I would spend most of on my back or my hands and knees.  I mostly stayed on meds, but occasionally would take a break from them when Gus and Steve had found another guy who wanted to be taken on a journey. Those were the only men for whom I would perform as a top, otherwise remaining a true cumdump bottom.

After graduating I was able to arrange the necessary permits to stay in Australia and work, allowing me to really get into the world of coffee that I had found a bit of a passion for while working as a barista. I joined the team at a new start-up that eventually grew into a very successful roastery, and led on the opening of its first shop in Surry Hills a couple of years later. It didn't hurt that some of the delivery drivers I had hired happened to be guys I had recognised from various cruising spots I had been whored out in, giving me a regular supply of both coffee cups and toxic cum.

About two years after I had graduated, I got an email from Jason, one of my old school friends back in London.  I had largely lost contact with them all, other than through the sort of relationship you maintain on Facebook with people you don't really know anymore, so it was a bit of surprise when he reached out to me.  He had joined his dad's business straight out of uni, was being sent to Sydney for six months to work on a project, and wanted to reconnect with me (I assumed so that he would have at least one person he knew in the city, not that he was modest enough to say so).

I didn't reply immediately, as I hadn't actually got around to coming out to any of them, and assumed that my parents (who had visited during my third year at uni) wouldn't have said anything to them after they left the city in such a state of shame and disgust at who I had become. However, I eventually got back to him, let him know I would be happy to see him, that I was gay and in a relationship, and wasn't quite the person he once knew.

He then took a few days to reply, but eventually did and still seemed to want to meet up.  And so it was, a couple of weeks later he called me after he had arrived and got over the jet lag, keen to go out for a beer.  I had pretty strong butterflies as I headed to the bar we had agreed to meet at, but felt a surge of self-confidence when I saw him do a clear double-take at his first sight of me as I walked towards his table.

"Fucking hell James" he exclaimed as I got to the table. "What the fuck happened to you?"

I smiled and winked as I sat down.  "Told you I'd changed a bit" I said, clanking my big bracelets down on the table.

"Fuck me" he replied, scanning my tatted arms, as well as the upper part of the biohazard that was visible thanks to my choice of a tight black low-cut tank top.  "Your parents said you looked a bit different, but I had no fucking idea it was like this."

I shrugged and picked up the bar menu that was on the table.  "What else did they tell you?" I asked, not making eye contact.

"Nothing" he replied, "they didn't seem to want to talk very much."

"Figures" I muttered, recalling their faces when they too had first seen me.

"And you're gay now" Jason said.

"Yep" I replied, making and maintaining eye contact with him.

"How did that happen?" he asked, before checking himself.  "I mean, were you always or was it just..."

"Just when I got spit-roasted on a beach?" I finished, causing him to flinch a little and look down, leading to a short uncomfortable silence.

"You what?" he eventually asked, looking back up at me.

"As I said" I replied, shrugging but not breaking eye contact.  "The family gifted me a few nights at some posh resort up north, met a couple of guys there, ended up in bed with them, and the rest is history.  Wasn't gay before, just maybe a bit curious, and now I'm all about the cock."

I hadn't necessarily planned to be as direct and crass as I was being, maybe it was some sort of defence mechanism, but to be fair to Jason he was rolling with the punches.

"You are, huh?" he said, smiling.  "Never would have thought of you like that, but each to their own."

We sat looking at each other for a few moments, before somehow moving past my revelations and lapsing into our old conversational style.  Fortunately this was without some of the attempts to impress with macho bullshit that I had known Jason for in days gone by, and although he still came across as a bit cocky, it was familiar and comfortable and I ended up having quite a good evening with him.  We talked about our families, lives now, our time at uni, what everyone else we mutually knew was up to, and so on.

"So" he said, as we started to wind down towards the end of the night, "would it be OK if I met this sugar daddy boyfriend of yours."

I must have been visibly a little startled that he was wanting to see more of this other life I now had.

"I mean, I don't know anyone else here" he continued, "and I'd like to hang out with you again so I should probably get to know your other half."

"Er, yeah, sure" I replied.  "I mean, you could come over for dinner, or drinks, or something.  There's fucking awesome views from our terrace."

"That would be nice" he said.  "Got to meet this guy who turned the school stud into someone who is "all about the cock."" He winked as he said that.

"Well actually it wasn't..."  I started, before stopping.  "Never mind.  OK, sure, I'll text you once I've spoken to him."

We wrapped up shortly after, and I got up to head out.  However, as I was walking away I briefly turned back to see Jason's gaze firmly fixed on me, with a wistful sort of expression on his face.

I realised then that things could be about to take an interesting turn...

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