THE TEN

[PozTalkAuthor]

it's literally months I'm waiting for your story - yes, I'm the pot calling the kettle black. I admit. 

[Guest]

39 minutes ago, PozTalkAuthor said:

it's literally months I'm waiting for your story - yes, I'm the pot calling the kettle black. I admit. 

LOL, my brother!  I'm not a machine -- unlike my protagonist Randy.

[PozTalkAuthor]

we both aren't automated bots

let's say we both love to leave our readers hanging

[Van2man]

On 11/11/2024 at 12:13 PM, PozTalkAuthor said:

we both aren't automated bots

let's say we both love to leave our readers hanging

Hey there, i'm back on this site now. And I have a surprise new installment of 'The Ten." Will be posted soon! Hope you like it

[Van2man]

**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**

THE TEN – A Continuation (or Chapter XV, if you like)

I never expected to fall in love with him…as I will explain, he wanted the relationship, but he didn’t want to be pozzed.

It was 2 years after I moved from LA to Seattle, I had continued my pozzing adventures in the great Pacific Northwest.

One of the main reasons for leaving LA was there almost seemed like there was nobody left to infect with HIV. Oh, new guys were always moving to LA, maybe to make it as an actor, maybe to escape from moralizing family members, or maybe just for the weather. But between widespread PrEP usage, the pool of available neg holes to knock up was becoming ever smaller. And when you factor in my poz buddies, Eric, Keith, Diego, Francisco and the other members of “The Ten” club, competition to claim a unmedicated neg chaser was fierce. Between us all in “The Ten,” we had successfully pozzed hundreds of guys, including dozens of flight attendants -- literally spreading our HIV strains around the world – but new conquests, as measured by the group text we would all send after another chaser got their upgrade, were happening fewer and fewer times.

As for my own successful pozzings, the tattooed area across my abs now boasted an arc of 6 dark X’s, meaning I had 60 known pozzings under my belt – and probably dozens more unknown ones who were face down/ass up in a sex club, or just a neg pussy against the glory hole opening – “DON’T ASK, DON’T TELL!” Augmenting the row of XXXXXX spread across my midsection were 2 biohaz symbols, one above the row of Xs and one on my upper arm, a bright red teardrop of blood in the center of both biohaz symbols. And then there was the inked scorpion with the word “POZ” in the center of its body splayed across my chest that my friend and tattoo artist extraordinaire Eric emblazoned for me, and which got us so horned up, we recharged each other right on his tattoo chair. He even finished up the scorpion tat while his fat toxic AIDS-cock was still inside me after depositing a fresh load of virus into my poz cumhole.

But eventually, there just wasn’t the available stock of neg chasers out there anymore, and the ones that once flew into LA for pozzing now could get it closer to their homes, as “The Ten” chapters sprung up, quite organically, in New York, Chicago, Toronto, Boston, Miami and Palm Springs. I had some of the ‘blame” for the Chicago branch being so prolific as my poz son Benny proceeded to infect his whole leather group, and they in turn distributed the gift across the Midwest. Suddenly, POZ was the thing to shoot for in certain gay/bi circles – a badge of sexual hedonistic honor. Eric told me he was training tattoo artists across the country in all kinds of biohazard and scorpion designs, and a big request was simply the words “POZ,” “TOXIC,” “INFECTED,” or “HIV” to get inked across chasers’ bodies when they got the inevitable upgrade to HIV status.

So after my wildly successful, and I guess if you think about it – TOO successful pozzing career, I relocated with my job up to Seattle, a city I had visited a few times over the years but to my knowledge, was not home to anyone I had upgraded with my demon seed.

My own seed remained unmedicated and my overall health remained good, despite the moderate viral HIV load. My last in-person visit with the idealistic Young Doctor in LA showed slow but steady progress of the virus and he told me I might be crossing over to official AIDS status within a year or so, and to think about medicating. Or maybe not, it was impossible to know for certain. What was for certain was I wouldn’t be inhibiting my strain with meds, at least not for a while yet…

So, 2 years later I was still seeing via telehealth the Young Doctor, who himself had transitioned from a condom and meds advocate into a poz hungry cumwhore after a certain mass conversion party in Lake Tahoe. And my lab work that I had done every 3 months or so at his direction still made its way back to him to interpret, and even now, 2 years after he said I was fucking and breeding my way into AIDS-territory, I was still officially just “HIV Positive.” I was having too much fun breeding holes with my toxic seed, and when after 18 months in Seattle, I got my 6th X tattooed across my stomach, signifying 60 pozzings, I resolved not to slow down…not yet, anyway.

Poz convert #60 happened much the same way a lot of them occur…Josh from Alaska read my profiles on BZ and Curious Chaser, slid into my DMs and a few weeks later, and following a quick brushing of his neg pussy, my lubed-up poz weapon was sliding into his untainted hole, forever changing his DNA, and changing him into a poz cumwhore. He told me that where he works on the pipeline, not a lot of guys are openly gay or bi, and even if they are, not a lot of them are on PrEP…plenty of opportunities for him to spread the seed to the Last Frontier among his burly oil worker buds.

I welcomed Josh to my place with a hug…I could feel his body trembling in my embrace. He whispered softly to me “I need to do this…but I’m scared.”

Reassuring him, I whispered back ‘We’ll go at your pace…but remember why you flew down here, remember why you need this,” followed by my grinding my jeans-covered poz weapon against him.

We chatted for awhile…he’s “mostly gay,” but fucks women sometimes…there were a couple of pregnancy scares with them and he was greatly relieved when they turned up not pregnant. He’s an oil pipeline worker, which isn’t as burly or hard-working as it sounds – mostly sitting at a screen and watching product flow. But sometimes there’s a problem or something out in the field that requires manual intervention and Josh and a few buddies head out to repair the issue, usually staying at the field camps set up along the length of the line. He tells me once the issue is resolved, there’s not a lot to do in camp until the van arrives in a day or two to take them back. So, they naturally get up to what men get up to…he’s fucked all of his work buddies over the years and they’ve fucked and bred him, even the ones with wives and kids waiting at home.

“We’re not allowed to drink on the job, so we find ways to entertain ourselves,” he shrugs, laughing and swigging his beer. It’s the first time he’s relaxed enough this evening to laugh.

He continues, “I found myself fantasizing about getting poz, I resisted for a long time, but once it has you, it can’t be denied.” I nod in knowing agreement.

Once he’s relaxed and laughing a bit, I lead him upstairs and offer my standard disclaimer that he can turn around right now and go. They never do…Getting him on the bed, and before he can change his mind, I begin my process with the brand new toothbrush I have waiting for him. Next comes my hard pre-cumming pierced poz missile. This isn’t a time to be gentle with it and I drill it deep into his guts, not stopping as he yelps and twists, until it’s balls-deep inside him, my free-flowing viral precum already leading the way. I remind him this is why he is here.

“Feel that poz cock deep in you, man? It’s pozzing you up already!”

I fuck him deeply and very roughly for about 15 minutes with my poz pole, withdrawing a couple of times to look at the small drops of bright red blood on my cock, I plunge it back into him and unload nine or ten shots of pure HIV-seed into the guy’s hole. I know I’ve just brought him into the Brotherhood, but of course, I follow standard pozzing protocol, plugging his mancunt and raising his hips on a pillow to let gravity assist. I fucked him again a further two times that night, always shooting copious loads of unmedicated toxic cum into the guy – as usual with The Ten members, once you become a mass poz breeder you shoot bigger HIV-loads, and the more your cock rebounds super quickly, ready for another unmedicated, toxic insemination!

On the 3rd rough fuck of that evening, we even managed to break the bed, a couple of slats underneath the mattress splintering, with a loud cracking sound!

In the morning, while he was still half-asleep, I turned him over and thrust my cock up his sore hole again, sealing the deal with another huge HIV-load in the guy’s guts. Josh flew back to Anchorage that morning, his hole wet from my seed, my strain already at work on his system. He pledged to send me a pic of the home test in a few weeks’ time, and I know from past experience what the result will be: 2 bright red lines meaning sweet HIV. When 3 weeks later the beautiful picture came from him, I quickly snapped a pic of his positive test next to my hard cock and posted it on my media. My 60th pozzing filled me with such pride at the accomplishment!

As for the bed -- Josh, not to mention the steady stream of Northwest chasers had been in and out of it and the old bed had served me good, but it was time to upgrade my pozzing bed with something new. And that’s what found me later that day in this high-end,  custom-made furniture store a short walk from the main tourist area of Pike St.

I had walked past the store windows several times, looking at the sofa and chairs and another featuring a beautiful Shaker-style bed. From the window, there was just enough of a view into the back area where craftsmen would work on their furniture designs. That’s where I saw him, through the window, as people milled back and forth in front of the doorway, I craned my neck to see him better, leaning over one of his custom creations, his jeans shaping his ass beautifully.

I didn’t believe in fate or whatever you want to call it,  but seeing him there, even just viewing him from outside looking in, I had the same electric feeling in my loins that I get whenever I know I’ve just pozzed a guy, that indescribable rush of energy as my viral cum shoots from my rigid cock deep into a man’s hole, transmogrifying him and his existence forever.

I entered the store, and lingered around the bed that I wanted, telling the saleswoman who first approached that I was just looking. She turned and walked away and I went back to looking at the hot young assistant on the phone. Finally, he finished the call and turned in my direction. With the saleswoman now helping someone else, I waved at the cute guy and he left the central desk and made his way over to me.

He was a bit taller and leaner than me, probably around 6’2,” with medium-brown hair a bit of which fell in front of his eyes as he walked, brushing it back behind his ears which he probably has to do 100 times a day.

“Hi, sir, I’m Tom…what can I show you today?” he introduced himself, outstretching his hand to mine. As I shook his hand, a jolt of electricity ran through my body – even more than the jolt I felt the previous evening impregnating Josh with my HIV.

And just like that, Tom the furniture guy “had” me.

“I think I’m gonna buy this bed,” I told him, pointing at the sturdy frame “as long as it is strong and put together well. I don’t need a flimsy one.” I smiled devilishly at him, waiting for him to take the bait.

But he just said “It’s made by a local craftsman, and very well built. I can show you his catalogue and you can see his process if you like. I help him out in his studio from time to time.” He didn’t return my smile, just a friendly yet businesslike approach. Still, he “had” me, and a few minutes later, I was out the door, having bought a new bed and table set.

“Will you be the one to deliver it?” I asked him, hoping he would take the hint, but again he stayed professional and we arranged for their delivery team to bring the new purchases in 3 weeks’ time. 3 weeks – just enough time for the fuck flu to hit a chaser after I’ve brought them into the poz brotherhood!

When finally after three weeks, the call came that it was to be delivered, Tom’s voice was on the other end of the phone “Hello, Sir, we’ve got your bed ready to be delivered, but I thought you’d also be interested in some other pieces our craftsman had made, if you’d like to meet me after work at his woodshop, I can walk you through it all.”

Needing no further invitation to see this hot guy, I quickly hopped on the light rail and made my way over to the address of the studio, which was in a run-down part of the city south of Downtown. I knocked on the heavy steel door and Tom opened up and appeared there, his messy brown hair half in his face, his arms straining against the tight T-shirt and his jeans cupping his ass.

“Hey, Sir,” glad you could make it, welcome to my studio,” he said.

“Your studio? You’re the craftsman who makes this beautiful furniture?”

“Yeah,” he said brushing his hair back, and shaking sawdust from his hand, “at the store, I am just a sales rep, but here,” he remarked, turning around to the expanse of wood furniture, “this is my baby.” He leaned in a bit to me, “and I thought you might like a private tour,” brushing his hand against my arm, leaning further in for a kiss. “Unless I got the wrong idea…”

“Oh hell no, man, you got the right idea – I’ve been thinking of you ever since I came into the store,” I replied.  With that he reached for my shirt, unbuttoning the buttons down the front.

Then, as he fully opened my shirt, he eyed the scorpion tat, the biohaz symbol with the blood-red teardrop, and the line of 6 X’s across my furry midsection. He stopped – a brief look of concern across his face.

Looking at my tats marking me as a POZ predator, his demeanor changed instantly, from excitement to alarm. He stepped back.

“OK, sir, we’ll have your furniture delivered by 10am tomorrow morning, thanks for visiting.” And he walked away and sat at his desk and busied himself with some paperwork.

I took the hint…it’s a lot for someone to grasp. Before I pozzed up, I felt much the same way…even though it excited me, the fear outweighed the fantasy.

I thanked him, and made my way home. As I came through the door, my phone chimed. It was him.

“Sorry to cut you off there…maybe we should talk about it?”

TO BE CONTINUED

[negchaserlooking]

Love it

[PozTalkAuthor]

WTF!

This is what's called A SURPRISE!

[Van2man]

On 5/29/2025 at 10:14 PM, PozTalkAuthor said:

WTF!

This is what's called A SURPRISE!

i aim to please, my friend...

[randyrawman]

SO GLAD you're back on the site. I missed you stud and this chapter is hot as fuck. 

[Van2man]

Hi Guys: Thanks for all your kind words over the years about my story "The Ten." Here is my final chapter...and although this story is coming to a close, I will be back with more exploits of different guys, different situations, in the future. Thanks again!

 

**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**

FINALE: INSIDE THE BLUE TENT

Once the bedroom set had been delivered, I made good use of it getting more guys into the brotherhood. Josh from Alaska, newly pozzed and highly toxic with my potent strain, recommended me to a few of his buddies who wanted the bug from the original source and I gladly complied, bringing a total of 9 other Alaska dudes into the poz world, my HIV strain working their bodies over and, most crucially, imposing the need to seed onto their minds. A few months later, when Josh texted me a link to a story in an Anchorage paper about an unexplained rise in Alaska HIV infections, I just smiled and took quiet pride in helping my newly poz brothers, and making plans with Eric for a 7th X tattoo.

As for Furniture Guy Tom and I had met a few times at his studio and I even brought a couple of co-workers to buy some custom pieces from him. We also met for coffee and long walks a few times. One such time, he got very emotional and finally revealed the reason that, despite the instant and obvious attraction, he pulled away from me that evening at his workshop.

“I was on PrEP pills for awhile, but I had a bad reaction to it. The doctor switched me to the once-a-month injection but still I had bad side effects…my body just couldn’t take it. So, when I saw all your….body art…” he said, trailing off.

“So you know what it all means, then? My tats and the Xs? Did they freak you out a bit?”

“Yeah, I think I know…a couple of my buddies chased it and caught it, and if that’s what they wanted, good for them, I guess. And a couple more guys I know weren’t really looking for it, but just lax in taking PrEP and eventually they turned up poz.”

“So, you’re neg and not on PrEP and you don’t want to be poz, right,” I asked him, taking hold of his hand which trembled a bit in mine. I brushed a wisp of his hair back behind his ear.

“I like you, Tom,” I continued “A lot. I haven’t felt a real connection like that with anyone in a very long time. And although I love my life and I have no regrets or qualms about my sex life and what the impact of it is, I knew I always would want to try a relationship again.”

“Randy, I feel the same way about you…and I want us to be together. But, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be poz, and I know you don’t or won’t ever use condoms.”

“No, that’s true, I won’t ever have a condom on me, or in me. Never. Men are meant to spread their seed.”

“How many have you…how did you say it last week…’brought into the brotherhood?,’” he asked me, looking up from his empty coffee cup.

“You know what these X’s represent,” I asked him. As he shook his head “no,” I filled him in on their meaning.

“I’m part of an informal club called “The Ten.” It started with a dare, really, to poz up 10 willing chasers and then we’d get an X tattooed across our abs. I have 6 Xs now, Tom, and when I go to San Francisco next week, I’m getting my 7th tattooed. I’m pozfather to over 70 guys that I know about, and those 70 guys have spread it to countless others. And I’m not even nearly the most prolific member of the Club. We’re all super multiple cummers with huge loads, and spreading HIV is such a thrill, our cocks never go down until we’ve shot multiple toxic loads -- my buddies Eric and Keith and Sir Mack are well over 100 known pozzings…and hundreds more unknown ones.”

“Wow, I had no fucking idea this was even a thing!” he exclaimed. I knew some guys chased it but not that there was an organized effort like that!. That’s amazing, Randy, but I gotta say, I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.”

“That’s fair, Tom,” I told him, “it’s not for everybody, but it is growing in popularity and interest. We’ve even got a stall at the Folsom St Fair next week, and we’re setting up a space in a big tent, kind of an after-party for anyone we meet at the Fair who wants an upgrade. It’s gonna be so fucking hot.”

Just thinking of the future mass pozzings we’re gonna spread makes my cock strain in my jeans and Tom reaches down under the table to touch it which sends it to even a harder, more engorged state.

“I think I understand, Randy,” he said quietly, “but I don’t want to be poz…” he trailed off and looked up at me and then I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere with the hot furniture maker, anywhere further than coffee dates, anyway.

It was an impasse I knew we couldn’t overcome. We parted that day with a long hug, and he turned down the street resignedly. I honestly didn’t know when – or whether, I’d see him again.

I got in my usual gym session and got back home to get on a Zoom call with my poz brethren about Folsom St Fair – we made some final arrangements about the profile cards we’d be handing out, and the plan was in place.

A week later, flying down to SFO, I was abuzz with anticipation about the booth at the Fair and the special surprise we had for the lucky chasers. In my mind, I had turned the page on Tom, so although I was sad about not being with him, I was eager and ready to bring some more guys into the wonderful world of the poz brotherhood.

Setting up the booth was easy – our banner ‘Join The Ten,’ with a large reflective biohazard symbol shined in the sun. Eric, Keith, Sir Mack and I stripped off our shirts to display the tats signifying us as mass pozzinators. As the temperature heated up, we lost our leather shorts and stood at our booth proudly displaying our pierced pozzing weapons for all to admire. A few guys who stopped at our booth walked away in disgust, shaking their heads as they went, but many, many more were intrigued and we handed out our profile cards which displayed our stats like baseball cards: Last known Viral Load, how many pozzed, tattoos, etc…This brought more interest  and we made a few more appointments for later for them to join the club.

Interest was high…an hour in, Caleb, the 19-year old Berkeley student I pozzed along with his twin brother, strolled by and we reconnected with a loud recharge pozfuck right in the street against a chain-link fence, my poz cock unleashed the first of many toxic loads into the twink’s poz hole. Passers-by watched and stroked their cocks and recorded the Caleb’s recharge for social media, hashtag #TheTen☣️

Other guys passed by all afternoon, either taking one of our cards or proudly showing off their own poz tats, a sea of biohazard symbols, + signs, blood droplets, scorpions, and a few simply with the words POZ or HIV or AIDS emblazoned across their skin. One hot guy had his cock tattoed with a rattlesnake spewing venom, and I took the opportunity to go back to my Caleb-fucking spot against the fence and bent over to take his poison snake up my infected hole, his weapon spraying 8 or 9 shots of pure HIV into my hole.

At last, the Fair was winding down. We made a few more appointments for the conversion treatment for later, and we packed up and made our way over to the notorious Ringgold Alley, where the tent was set up in the parking lot of a warehouse owned by somebody Eric has pozzed years earlier. As we walked up, we spied our special guest, filmmaker Todd Verow, himself a bug-chaser, setting up his video equipment. All the invitees who consented to be filmed would get their poz upgrades recorded so they could look back on the proud moment when HIV entered their bodies and changed their lives!

Todd is a hot fucker himself and of course, we were gonna take the opportunity to bring him into the brotherhood as well, once the filming was done.

The tent was divided into 2 sections, the first of which was lined up with mattresses, fuck benches and a sling, and the second had three portable medical exam tables arrayed one by one. I walked in to see the Idealistic Young Doctor there, wearing an open lab coat and nothing else but a fat metal cockring. He was readying alcohol pads and syringes for his part of the process.

On the right side, I saw my brother mass infectors Eric, Keith and Sir Mack hard and stroking their cocks, each of them pierced, engorged and ready to breed. Between them, over 200 chasers had been infected with their strains of HIV and those 200+ men spread their seed all over the world, infecting thousands more. I took my place alongside them, greeting each with a deep kiss and a tug on their cocks, appreciating what they had all done for me and how together we had some small part in the burgeoning normalization, appreciation and enjoyment of HIV in gay circles.

At the precise time of 5:00pm, our first appointment arrived.

“Welcome,” Doctor Matthew announced. “Are you Blake?”

Blake, a young twink of about 22, nodded and the Doctor ran through the choices:

First, you get to decide which of these 4 hot poz men will breed you – they’re all super toxic. Then, once he has deposited his load in your hole, we’ll complete the process with some blood fresh from him to you. Here, sign this form and then pick your pozzer.”  Blake studied each of our profile cards which we handed out at the Fair, while Todd readied his camera to zoom in on the guy’s neg hole; finally Blake selected Sir Mack as his pozfather, leaning over the fuckbench. Mack, the most prolific pozzer among us (as well as the most-toxic), then opened the festivities with a brushing of Blake’s neg hole, preparing it for the life-changing serum he would infect the guy with. This was followed by a brutal fucking from Sir as he drilled his fat toxic cock deep into the young guy’s guts. Blake winced and yelped at the anal invasion, but Mack just drove it in harder, covered the kid’s mouth and held his head down into the fuckbench.

Pretty soon, our next appointments filtered in, staggering every 10 minutes. I got the 2nd customer, Davis, a 30-ish Asian dude with barely a hair on his body, except for dark circles of fuzz around his neg hole. I was pre-cumming already and lubed up my unmedicated pole with the precum that was swimming with my HIV, readying the guy’s hole with a quick  brushing.  A few brushes in his pussy completed, I drove my weapon deep into his fuckchute, precumming all the way and in no time I was balls-deep in the guy, bringing him roughly into the poz brotherhood – well, if my toxic load didn’t do it, the blood slam coming up surely would. Just the thought of it got my cock harder and with urgency and precision, sprayed 10 shots of venomous seeds into the dude. I wasted no time in dragging him over to Doctor Matthew, who was just finishing up with Blake, a syringe of Sir Mack’s blood freshly drawn from the infected Master and shot into the arm of the young lad Blake, completing his conversion and marking him as a poz breeder. Tears of gratitude streamed down Blake’s pretty little face, for he knew now his goal was achieved, and quest was completed. Filmmaker Todd handed him a video card of the conversion and off Blake went to spread the wealth.

Matthew moved along to me, I reclined against the exam table while my victim Davis lay on it, wiped out from the brutal fucking he received from me, my unmedicated load seeping into him and I watched Doctor withdraw a syringe of my blood from my arm and inject it into Davis who trembled and whimpered a bit, but took the conversion well.

I could see Eric and Keith deep inside the next customers, Sir Mack, having pozzed Blake now, moved over to the waiting area but was soon called over to breed the next guy.

And so it went on and on, one or more of us continuously breeding the chasers with our poz loads and then our poz blood. Doctor Matthew stroking his cock all the time he was administering the treatment to the chasers, a couple of times, the doctor’s own poz load shooting into the face and mouth of the guy as he inserted the needle with the poz blood. Filmmaker Todd, meanwhile had filmed each conversion – all the guys so far consented to the filming – and by the 3rd hot poz breeding, Todd had one hand on his camera and the other on his hard thick negative cock. Todd knew he’d be upgraded to poz tonight but first we had 20 more appointments lined up.

Now, all of us poz brethren are ever-hard multi-cumming machines, but to make sure we stay that way during the long session, each of us took a Trimix shot from Doctor Matthew before we had begun. Our cocks were so hard and rigid, even after cumming and pozzing multiple guys, I was hoping for some walk-ins who maybe heard what was going down in the blue tent on Ringgold Alley.

Pretty soon, the pozzing extravaganza was almost over, it was a blur of neg holes getting fucked and inseminated and syringes of red poz elixir taken from us and injected into willing bugchasers. And even though my cock, by Todd’s count, had shot 9 loads, it remained rockhard and leaking, waiting for the next. Finally, the “next” was Todd himself, who assumed position on the mattress, riding Eric whose fat poz pole pistoned up and down into Todd’s beautiful neg ass. He leaned forward over Eric, making the classic opening for a double-fuck. I wasted no time, beating out Sir and Keith into the prime double penetration position and my own stiff infected cock drilled into Todd’s quivering asshole, alongside Eric’s and we soon had our alternating strokes, deep into the filmmaker’s cunt. I could feel Eric’s cock against mine, his 0g PA clanking against mine. Gradually, Eric began to shake and shudder and with a loud explosion, he shot huge streams of his full-blown AIDS deep into Todd’s gaping hole. I knew I was right behind him and without any delay, my own toxic cock impregnated him as well.

Doctor Matthew, watching this hot scene, rushed over with 2 syringes. “Stay as you are, guys,” he commanded, and he quickly drew another syringe of Eric’s venomous blood and one of mine, and with our cocks still hard and leaking up inside the filmmaker, injected Todd with them both at the same time. Keith, videotaping this event for Todd, proclaimed “Welcome to the Class of 2025!”

“You’ll never know for sure who your Poz Daddy is, Todd,” I whispered into his ear, giving him a little more push inside him with my bugged-up cock. Eric’s AIDS-pole joined me in driving deeper into the guy’s ass. We know we have just pozzed Todd, fulfilling his wish after years or trying to poz up. He is one of us now!

Now, I am truly wiped out, and after our joint infection of filmmaker Todd, we dismount and Eric and I collapse into each other’s arms. Todd, not satisfied, being the cumwhore that he is, brings over Sir Mack and Keith and they proceed to double-fuck and breed him as well, also taking syringes of their blood from Doctor Matthew as well. He is good and truly pozzed now!

We are just about to close up shop, pridefully recalling the over 25 guys we have pozzed here with our loads and our blood, laughing at the sheer depravity of it all, when, with my back turned, I hear a familiar voice.

“Sorry, my plane was delayed. Am I too late?”

It’s Tom. MY Tom.

“There’s only one guy I want it from, if that’s OK,” he says, walking over to me. He’s got on leather chaps and his ass, which to this point, I’ve never seen before, is round and beautiful and just waiting for plundering.

“What are you doing here,? I ask him, stunned to see him. “You sure about this,” drawing him in for a deep tongue kiss.

“Totally,” he whispers, “and you have to do it for me. I don’t want to be without you in my life, and I want to share it all with you, including your strain.”

“OK, but let’s skip the blood slam this time,” suddenly switching into romantic mode, “I’m super toxic and my loads will be enough.” After a deep loving fuck, I blew my load up Tom’s hole, feeling full and truly wiped out. Eric, Mack, Keith, Matthew and Todd all broke into a round of applause.

As I kept my leaking poz cock deep inside his guts, we kissed deeply and I knew then my purpose was to spend my life with him, sharing what was now “our” strain, and laughing to myself at the irony of it all; for although I had spent so many years pozzing up chasers, it was a non-chaser who ended up capturing me.

[barebackrnb]

A fantastic finale to an amazing story that always had me hard and wanting to be on the receiving end.  I am curious to know how many pozzimgs really did happen at the recent street fair in SF?  I know I will be returning to this and the other chapters.  Thanks for sharing these pozzing adventures, @Van2man!