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Posted
6 hours ago, Anone said:

Wow, hot hot hot! I've been so horned up reading each chapter, ooozing lots of pre-cum and enjoying wanking while reading.

What an amazing imagination and creativity. Very well written for which I'm thankful for.

Thank you for your kind words…it was a labor of love for me and I’m happy you liked it ! 

Posted
1 hour ago, pozsewerpig said:

This is thrilling and trashy and absolutely wonderful! Thank you.

Glad you liked it! Thank you for the kind words.

  • 1 month later...
Posted

I feel like maybe there's one more installment still in me, waiting to come out. Stay tuned, men.

Posted
16 hours ago, Vancrawman said:

I feel like maybe there's one more installment still in me, waiting to come out. Stay tuned, men.

Yes please, great story

  • 2 weeks later...
  • 3 weeks later...
Posted

**This is a work of fantasy and fiction. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Nothing in this work should be construed as medical advice in any way**

CHAPTER XI: AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

On a rare cold rainy morning in Los Angeles, I got a text message from my brother Mike. I don’t communicate much with him, in part because, like a lot of adult siblings, we have very little to say to each other and disagree about most everything. But the main reason is that 23 years ago, Mike married a devout Christian woman who never stops telling everyone just how devout she is.

I found her smug, gloating condescension incredibly irritating and over the years, all when I was with my ex and leading a monogamous life, my visits to their house 500 miles away outside Tucson dwindled down from few to none. My ex didn’t like her, and didn’t respect my brother much for not standing up to her in anything, from their taste in décor to the incessant, collective guilt trip she was laying down on their three kids, all judgement and darkness.

And now that I was a out-and-proud poz predator, having by now converted over 20 guys to the joy of poz-life, and with an untold number of second-generation poz progeny out there, I certainly was in no mind to be part of their lives. Just the thought of being at their house and going for a swim and having to explain the biotat and the 2 dark X’s branded across my abdomen, each one signifying 10 men converted to HIV by me (and with a few more in the pipeline getting me close to my 3rd “X”), made me laugh. Of course they’d never understand.

So, it was no surprise that his text that morning caught me off guard. I resisted opening it on my phone as I was making coffee for my latest conquest Richie who was just stirring in the bed after a night where I brushed his hole twice and deposited three helpings of my HVL seed into him, and this morning, I had wanted to get Richie loaded up one more time before sending him on his way. I was certain I had done my job last night bringing him into the brotherhood, but I wanted one more load of virus from my AIDS-dick to get into the cute stud from Portland who flew down here to get upgraded to POZ.  So, I ignored the text messages from Mike and went about my business.

Richie was a tall skinny guy, indeed his twitter handle was @oregonstringbean and all of about 25, with dark curly hair and a light coat of wispy body hair down his chest and on his butt. When he arrived last night, he was trembling slightly as I answered the door to let him in. I sat him down with a glass of wine and we talked for over an hour. I’m respectful of the process guys take to get to my door for their conversion. Of course, once a guy is in my house, he doesn’t leave un-pozzed, but I do let them relax first and open up… before I open them up.

Just something I need to have, I can’t fully explain it,” he finally uttered as he sipped his second glass of Malbec. “I’m scared of what’s to come but I’ll be so disappointed if I don’t go through with it, it’s been burning in me for a few years now, and when I saw your twitter page, I knew it had to be your strain inside me.”

“I’m happy to poz you up, kid,” I replied, getting into my standard speech I usually give at this point,

“Just remember…as I said in my email and to which you agreed…once I’m fucking you, I will not pull out under any circumstances until my poz load is inside your hole….no matter what you say, it will be too late. If we go upstairs,” I continued, pointing at the staircase up to the pozzing chamber, “ you will be tooth-brushed, fucked hard as many times as I want, and you *WILL* be pozzed. So, Richie, are you ready?”

With a big gulp of the last of his wine, he set the glass down on the table and looked up at me and said “Ready, let’s do this, Sir please bring me into the POZ Class of 2023!”

That was all the confirmation needed last night, and I hustled the young guy upstairs, my POZ weapon standing at attention and ready to do it’s evil magic on his hole.

By now, I have the method for poz conversion pretty much down and hard-wired into my brain and my potent poz cock. I start out with some nice deep rimming of the hole to get them relaxed, then dip the toothbrush into some melted saved loads I stock up and keep in shot glasses in the freezer.

Working with purpose, I get the brush up into the hole pushing past the 2nd ring to be sure to scratch up and bloody the passage, getting it ready for the invasion of my deadly dick and cum. I give it a good 5 minutes of brushing, pushing down on the guy’s back if he starts to wiggle around or buck like a bronco. His hole, his immune system, his destiny is in my hands now so I’m in charge and I push him back down on the bed and continue with the task at hand. And there’s always a sock to muzzle his mouth if he complains too much.

Next comes my pierced POZ cock to replace the bloody brush. I thrust it in with one fell swoop getting it down the root to bring him balls-deep into the brotherhood. My pre-cum, always bubbling and oozing from my cockhead greets his insides first, very possibly pozzing him right then and there. But we gotta have some fun here, yes? Deeply thrusting in and out, bringing my cockhead out to observe the blood drops on my 0g PA, and then ramming it back into the hilt – this method works best on me to get a nice load of virus brewing in my toxic balls and after a few minutes of this back and forth he is ready for his first proper insemination of my pure high-viral HIV.  Naturally, I ease the way with plenty of POZ talk in his ear:

“Fucking you straight into the club, pig”

“No going back now even if you wanted, it’s too late, you’re a fucking toxic cumdump now”

“Welcome to HIV, kid, it’s gonna live inside you, getting stronger.”

“Now you carry my strain, you gonna poz up guys and share my virus, boy?”

It was around that time I first heard my phone text alert “ping” …Choosing to continue to ignore it (not yet knowing who it was,  what could anyone want that was more important than my pozzing this 25-year old guy??), I carried on with my work, popping a lucite plug into his hole, turning him on his back and wedging a pillow under his legs to let gravity assist in the infection process.

I rolled over next to him to re-charge. Since getting into the HIV Club courtesy of my hot pozzer buddy nurse Keith, my cock and balls, not to mention my brain, have been taken over by the bug, it’s only goal to spread and replicate, and my balls recharge like never before, ready to re-inject hot liquid poison into the nearest hole. This was no exception, for in 10 minutes I removed the plug from Richie’s used hole and was tagging him once more, hard and deep, into the POZ ’23 Club, another load of swill spilling into him and branding him with my HIV strain.

Again, a few minutes later, as I re-plugged his worn-out hole, my phone text alert pings and again I ignore it.

I try to sleep a little then, Richie reaching over to turn me towards him and make a spoon, my dripping cock tight up against his ass. He is crying softly and I reach to hold him and stroke his hair…A lot of them get emotional after they’ve been pozzed. Through his soft sobs he struggles to find words:

“I’ve never felt so alive, I swear I can feel it already turning me, Sir. Thank you, Sir”

We remained that way all night, close together. At some point I rolled over on my other side and he nestled up against me, building our bond as POZ maker and POZ son.

It was then 8:00am and I’m making that coffee when the phone text I mentioned catches me again and I see who had been texting: my brother. I’m planning to load up Richie with my deathseed one more time before calling him an Uber for the airport and his flight back to PDX.

While the coffee is perking, I return back to my latest prey who is fingering the lucite plug he kept in his well-used hole all night. I dive in to extract it and as I pull it out, I see all three of my viral cumloads got absorbed into the guy’s insides. I know he’s leaving here pozzed, and this sends my cock standing up again…Lubing up quickly, I fill his hole with my poz pole and quickly make work of it, sending another volley of virus into the kid. His membership in the Club is complete, I am so happy and proud, I’m getting close to my 3rd “X” tattoo…and I make a mental note to get on my tattoo guy Eric’s calendar. He did my 2nd ‘X” about 3 months ago – Eric was on his 4th then, and I can’t wait to earn my 3rd and see what number the prolific pozzer Eric is up to!

Shortly thereafter, Richie is in the shower, I’ll order his car in a minute. Now with some coffee, I can concentrate on whatever bullshit my brother’s been texting me – probably some recycled meme from his stupid wife Meredith that will go right into the digital trash. But I open up his texts and see something very different:

Randy, you have to help me, call me please” was the initial text, from 8:00pm last night.

Randy, if you see this message,” was the next text in the string, “I need your help with Clay.

“Randy, please let me know I’ve done the right thing with Clay.” That came in at 2:00am

And the final text from this morning, just before I seeded Richie for the 4th time…”Randy, I hope you’re seeing these messages. Please call me. Clay is on his way to you. I didn’t know what else to do…”

“What! FUCK,” I say to the coffeepot, “what the fuck is he doing sending me his kid?!”

I quickly call my brother and he skips over the phony pleasantries that we endure on our usual infrequent conversations. “Clay is in trouble, Randy, I didn’t know what else to do. Hang on, let me go out to the backyard,” he says, me figuring out he’s trying to stay out of earshot from the dreaded wife Meredith.

“Last night, we were all just sitting around the dinner table, and Clay just like that, came out of the closet, Randy. We were all stunned. The two younger kids didn’t bat an eye and I was trying to be supportive, but Meredith…”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence, for I was familiar with Meredith. But he went on:

“Meredith flipped out, and started screaming about how he was going to hell and the devil was inside him, and she totally fucking lost it, Randy, she packed a bag for him and threw Clay out,” my brother was crying now, “and I just let it happen, Randy, but that was when I told Meredith to go fuck herself and I ran after my son.”

“I caught up to him and he asked me to drive him to the bus station. We talked for awhile and he told me he’s been wanting to leave for months now, ever since he graduated college, he’s been miserable here with Meredith and he’s already got a boyfriend and a place to stay in L.A.”

“I told him, Randy, to go to your house first and if there’s anything he needs, can you get it for him, Randy and send me the bills and I’ll Venmo you the money. I don’t want him there all by himself with only some guy he barely knows, whoever this boyfriend is. Please say you’ll let him stay a few days and let him get settled, Randy. I know it’s asking a lot but please…”

By the time I listed to all this, Richie has emerged from the shower and is packing his overnight bag. I come back into the bedroom, stunned at what I have heard, and stunned at myself for agreeing to Mike’s request. Clay’s bus got to L.A. about an hour ago, so he’ll be here soon. I need to get Richie out now.

Richie is basking in the glow of knowing he’s about to convert in a few weeks after his years-long, off-and-on chase for going poz. I’m really proud and happy I was able to help…but I gotta do this quickly:

“Remember, don’t take any other poz loads from anyone until you get the fuck flu and your test is POZ”, I tell him, “so we know it was me who got you there, and text me the pic of the test for my collection.”

Richie is beaming at me, comes over to me to kiss me deeply. “Thank you again, Sir, you are my pozzer, my maker, I will carry your strain and propagate it at will.”

With that, I tell him his car will be here in 2 minutes – Francisco in a silver SUV – small world, I pozzed Francisco about 4 months ago even though he was on PrEP at the time, and I just have to laugh at all my worlds colliding. I hear Francisco’s car pulling up in front of the house.

Opening the front door to let Richie out, I see my nephew Clay standing there. He has grown into a fine young man of 22, obviously one who works out as his T-shirt is doing little to hide his strong chest and thick arms. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen him in person, and I’m shocked at how gorgeous my young nephew is.

“Clay, come on in,” I say to him. Richie passes by him on the doorstep and turns around to view this strapping youth from behind.

“Have fun, Randy,” Richie calls out, thinking Clay is my next pozzing scenario. Francisco lowers the passenger window on his SUV and cranes his neck to get a better look at my nephew’s ass in his jeans.

“Hey, Uncle Randy, thanks for this,” and with that he comes in.

What have I committed myself to??!

Posted

Oops I forgot that S*T*N* is a no-no word around here, LOL how it got changed to Sarah Palin, ok whatever! LOL

Posted

Great chapter.  Definitely looking forward to Uncle Randy's interactions with his nephew Clay. 

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