The night Brock got pozzed

[norubbers]

Moments later, the door opened again and it was not Iain who walked out. The young man looked vaguely familiar but Brock couldn't place why. He was about Brock's age, though. About a foot shorter and skinny. He had short, sandy blond hair and blue eyes. He was cute.

"I'm Aaron. Iain said you needed some help picking stuff out," he offered. "What kind of stuff are you looking for?"

Brock gestured back toward the flannel and denim. "I'm looking for school clothes. Stuff for senior pictures. So something formal, too, I guess?"

Aaron led Brock around the store pulling some jeans and flannel, some gym clothes that looked way too...revealing, and some chinos and button up shirts. As he was leading Brock back to the fitting rooms, realization struck Brock.

"Aaron, what's your last name?" He asked.

"Bryant. Why?" Aaron replied.

"Are you related to Evan Bryant?"

"He's my half brother, yeah."

"He's my scholar bowl coach. I had him for calculus last year," Brock said. "I think I saw you at a match or two."

"Probably. I was trying to make varsity at Century High, so he was letting me help out to get a feel for it."

Aaron kept talking, but Brock's virus reduced it to a droning white noise in the background. Evan Bryant was the definition of a faculty crush. He was in his late twenties. Short, like his half brother, but where Aaron was skinny, Evan was muscular and stout. Like the difference between a gnome and a dwarf. There was that inner nerd again.

Brock snapped out of it as Aaron was explaining, "Try everything on. If it fits and you like it, hang it here, fits but want a different color or something here, and if it doesn't fit or you dont like it, here."

Brock worked his way through the pile of stuff Aaron had pulled, throwing them into the various piles. Pretty much everything fit perfectly. A handful of things he wanted in different colors. He had tried on everything except the athletic shorts, which he was 100% convinced were not going to fit.

He was correct. Sort of. When he pulled them up, his hooded cockhead hung about an inch past the hem of the left leg. He heard Aaron's voice as the door to the fitting room opened. Aaron's jaw drop as he quickly closed the door to the fitting room.

"I think they're just the right length," Brock called over the partition sarcastically. Aaron apologized profusely.

"No big deal, man. Sorry you had to see that," Brock replied. Then he heard his uncle's voice.

"They would probably be just right if you had on underwear, bud," Dale chided. Brock opened the door again to see his uncle standing next to Aaron. Aaron was trying to avert his eyes, but Brock could swear he caught him stealing glances a couple times. Maybe that was just his virus playing tricks on him.

Dale, on the other hand, stared openly. To the point Brock began to feel his dick stirring beyond his ability to control his erection. Dale seemed to sense his nephew's predicament. 

"Wait here, I'll be back," Dale ordered. He walked away, pulling Aaron along with him. He sent Aaron to retrieve the requested changes in color and such and asked for his nephew's sizes and headed for the underwear wall.

By this point, Brock was completely hard and leaking copious amounts of pre cum. Not knowing what else to do about it, he stripped off the shorts. He tried not to get any precum on them. He failed.

Aaron returned first. Thinking it was his uncle, Brock opened the door to see what he'd brought back. Aaron's eyes locked onto Brock's full mast dick and he fumbled half of what he was holding. Brock resumed stroking his dick under Aaron's lustful gaze. Without a word, he paused and gestured as though offering his dick to Aaron to touch. To stroke. Perhaps to taste.

Aaron got the message and took that offer he wrapped his hand as far as it would go around the soda can thickness of Brock's shaft. He seemed transfixed by the velvety movement of Brock's foreskin. His eyes hungry for the pearly drops of precum running like sap down a tree trunk.

Aaron started to drop to his knees and abruptly stopped when someone cleared their throat. Dale and Iain both stood at the entrance to the fitting rooms.

Aaron yelped and began picking up hangers and organizing them. Brock looked at his uncle Dale and saw he had returned with a variety of underwear.

"Try these on, bud," he said as though this was the most normal circumstances possible.

There were three different styles. A vintage style jockstrap with a 3" band and a very stretchy pouch. A brand of boxer briefs he'd never heard of that hit him just above the knee like his compression shorts, but these were a much more flexible material that accentuated his anatomy rather than compressing it. Lastly a brand of briefs he knew was popular with porn stars.

Both he and his virus approved of the choices. He tried the shorts on again with the jockstrap. All he could think was that he looked like he was trying to smuggle a ferret out of the store. He felt conflicted. On the one hand, he looked like he'd been taken directly out of some homage to 80s porn. On the other, there was no way he could wear this for gym.

He opened the door to tell Dale as such and stopped mid sentence when he realized all three men were staring agog at him. Even Iain, who Brock had yet to see aroused about anything, had a bit of a bulge in his pleated khaki chinos.

Brock decided he could get some actual gym clothes next weekend with his mom. He had other ideas for these.

Dale made conversation with Iain while Aaron bagged everything up. As they were headed out of the store, Brock realized he hadn't gotten anything formal. Or paid for anything. He expressed his concerns to his uncle.

"That's all taken care of, kiddo," Dale reassured him. "Next weekend, you have your appointment with me on Saturday. On Sunday, go up to the mall with your mom and get gym clothes, then come back downtown. A few blocks over is Iain's tailoring shop, Loki's Thimble. I commissioned a couple pieces for you and he should have mock ups ready to try on by then."

"Dale, my mom can't afford custom formal wear. Are you insane?" Brock asked incredulously.

"Iain owes me a favor. Actually, he owes me a lot of favors. He'll make up something about a back to school special or promotional offer or something. He's actually the most discreet professional I know," Dale said reassuringly.

Brock remembered the scorpion branded into the backroom door. He wanted so badly to ask questions, but knew he couldn't without giving away how much he knew about the Scorpion Society.

----------

Back at home, Brock laid on his bed with his junior yearbook. He had been staring at the "meet the faculty" page for Mr. Bryant for the better part of an hour. He'd been rock hard for the better part of an hour and a half. He'd been edging himself and had nearly blown his load at least three times. Poppers were doing a great job postponing that inevitable release.

He heard his mom's car pull into the drive. He kneeled over the yearbook, Evan Bryant's bright-eyed innocent face staring back at him, immortalized in full color. He pushed himself over the edge and blew rope after rope of fully toxic cum all over his bedspread. Three huge shots plastered across the yearbook page his and his viruses dna seeping into the page.

He cleaned the last drops of cum off his dick, pulled on sweatpants and a t shirt, and headed downstairs to hug his mom, move his laundry along, and serve dinner.

[norubbers]

Sorry for two long chapters with only a little bit of sexual content. Promise more sex in the coming chapters, just needed some exposition to set up Brock's beginning to change from bullied and suppressing his sexual gifts to embracing and flaunting them.

If any of you are familiar with "Be More Chill" I was struck by the idea of "what if the HIV virus worked like a S.Q.U.I.P. for gay debauchery. That was one of the inspirations behind these two chapters.

I'm also sure you will see my own kinks and preferences emerge in my writing. I really like clothing and probably go into way too much detail about it. I also really like the sexual community dynamic, so most characters are going to be connected in some way.

If either of these start to get boring, let me know and I can try to mix it up a bit. Enjoy.

[raw773]

7 hours ago, norubbers said:

Promise more sex in the coming chapters, just needed some exposition to set up Brock's beginning to change from bullied and suppressing his sexual gifts to embracing and flaunting them.

Keep going, you're writing it well...

[RawSubDad]

Keep writing the way you like but I don’t mind saying that I can’t wait to read more about Brock’s sexual experiences. 

[viking8x6]

22 hours ago, norubbers said:

Sorry for two long chapters with only a little bit of sexual content. Promise more sex in the coming chapters, just needed some exposition to set up Brock's beginning to change from bullied and suppressing his sexual gifts to embracing and flaunting them.

These chapters are NOTHING to apologize over! I personally have been greatly enjoying the presence of an actual plot. And "trying to smuggle a ferret" was perfect! 💓

[gingerdaddyG]

We like them long…😈

[sdcigarpig]

WOOF

[norubbers]

Brock returned to school the next day. His first week back was pretty uneventful. Everyone believed Brock had been out with the flu, but he found himself wishing he could tell some people the truth: that he had been out because he was seroconverting under the care and attention of his uncle, who had infected him with HIV. That he had begged his uncle to do it without a second thought.

He realized he was rock hard. His massive member stretched across his left thigh. The precum was beginning to flow. His new clothes did nothing to hide his anatomy. He knew uncle Dale had picked underwear that would specifically accentuate his bulge and leave nothing to the imagination. But it seemed his new jeans wanted to do their part, too. 

"Earth to Brock!" Mr. Bryant called. Brock had never been happier to be sitting at a desk. He'd had a hardon for Mr. Bryant since he started last year. At the present moment that was quite literal. "Does next week work for tryouts, cap-ee-tan?"

"Oh. Um. Yeah I think so..." Brock responded pulling his attention away from his dick and out of his daydreams.

Mr. Evan Bryant had taken the advanced math position at Park Village High School as his first teaching gig. He was a bit older than most first year teachers at 28. Rumors circulated about what he had done before becoming a teacher. He'd been Spec Ops in the military. He'd been training to be an astronaut but dropped out. He was a CIA analyst. He was in witness protection. He was touring in a band but they broke up. The sheer variety was comical.

The truth was much less exciting than any of the rumors. He'd grown up in the next town over. He did spend 4 years in the navy and he had spent a couple years after touring the country, camping and backpacking. After a couple years of that. He decided teaching was his calling. And he was likely right. He was a damn good teacher. His AP Calc class last year had 95% pass the exam for credit.

He stood 5'4" and was about 180 lbs of muscle. He had sandy blond hair that he grew out just a bit past his old navy crew cut, perpetual stubble that often was bordering on a scruffy beard, and dark blue eyes. His shoulders were broad, tapering to a narrow waist. You could tell he was muscular, even under his Oxford shirt and chinos.

"Where's your head at today, Brock?" Mr. Bryant looked so kind and a little concerned. "I know you were out all last week but if we are going to make nationals, we need to start now."

Brock chuckled. He couldn't exactly tell his teacher that his head was already swimming with the possibilities of what his uncle had in store for him tomorrow.

He also definitely couldn't tell him that for the last 20 minutes he'd been picturing every position he could fuck Mr. Bryant in using the desk he was currently sitting at. His dick throbbed, oozing a large glop of toxic precum which quickly soaked into his new boxerbriefs.

-----------

Dale sat in his office. On the big screen TV played the recording of his session with Brock - the video of him pozzing his nephew. His 8" cut cock was standing straight up out of the fly of his jeans. He was leaking a constant flow of precum while he watched himself fucking his nephew on screen. It dripped slowly over his hand as he stroked his member.

"So that's him, huh?" the man beside Dale asked. He had the waistband of his athletic shorts pulled down. His 8" dick stood painfully hard, precum flowing freely and pooling in his bushy pubes. He seemed to be too distracted by the video to stroke his dick. Part of an orange scorpion tattoo was visible on the exposed part of his thigh. "And your certain you got him?"

"We see Dr. Shah tomorrow afternoon." Dale responded coolly. "But if he comes back negative, we will just have to try again."

Dale fished a coin out of his pocket and casually flipped it. "Call it in the air."

"Heads."

Dale revealed the coin heads up.

"Fuck you. You always get to go first, Rod." Dale sputtered.

The two of them exited the office and headed toward the stairs down to the basement

[norubbers]

Brock had never really been a morning person. It was common on weekends for him to be in bed at noon. Saturday was different. He felt like the virus inside him had set an alarm of its own. He woke up with the most profound case of morning wood he could remember. And the sun wasn't even up yet.

He tried a few different positions, but he just could not fall back asleep. He finally resigned himself to getting up. He briefly considered a wank, but his date with his uncle seemed a good enough reason not to waste any of his potent cum. He decided to go for a run instead.

He put on one of his new jockstraps and gym shorts. He had been unsure about the shorts initially, but they finally won him over. They had, by teenager standards, a very short inseam and were snug around his muscular butt and thighs. They showed off enough bulge he could probably be charged with indecent exposure.

Honestly, he looked fucking hot in them. They truly were an homage to the short shorts that were popular decades ago, at least if vintage porn reflected actual fashion trends.

Brock's usual run was down to the park, then following the trail along the creek, and then loop back through the country to home. The little voice in the back of his head told him today he should pick a different route. He had come to associate that voice with the virus circulating in his veins. It's will. It's desirs.

He set off toward the upscale subdivision they were building on the outskirts of town. Once there, he found himself running past a dozen houses in various states of construction. Only half a dozen completed projects had occupants.

As he came to the last cul de sac, he stopped cold. Parked in the first driveway was a dark Volvo with a Park Village High School bumper sticker. He was nearly certain it was the car he'd seen leaving the Block the night his uncle Pozzed him.

After the shock of seeing the car wore off, he realized the garage door was open. He crept up the drive until he could see in the garage. In the middle of the mostly empty garage, he saw the man he had seen in the basement of the porn store. He was wearing the same hat. He stood in his garage in an tank top and pajama pants.

Brock only knew the man by reputation. His name was Leon Smithe. He was on the school board. And his daughter was in band with Brock.

Kneeling in front of Leon was a completely naked man who was enthusiastically swallowing Leon's dick, which he had pulled through the fly of his pajamas pants. Brock didn't recognize this other man.

Neither man had noticed Brock's presence. Brock watched as the naked man's eager cock sucking gradually changed into him being viciously throat fucked by Leon. The naked man didn't appear to have any form of gag reflex. He seemed unfazed by the fervor with which Leon was filling his throat.

Around the third or fourth time Leon slammed his cock all the way down the stranger's throat until the stranger's lips started to turn blue, Leon noticed Brock. Brock froze like a deer in the headlights and considered making a run for it and pretending nothing had happened.

That was when he caught sight of Leon's green scorpion tattoo on his left bicep, near his shoulder. His eyes slid from the tattoo to meet Leon's eyes and something was shared between the two of them. Brock wasn't sure how, but he knew he had permission to watch Leon make use of the stranger he was skull fucking.

Leon looked to be in his early 50s. His dark hair and goatee were shot through with white. Brock had never in his life seen brown eyes that he would describe as cold. That was until he got a good look into Leon's. He was trim and fit. About 5'10". And from what Brock could tell, his dick was a bit over 6" and cut. Not especially thick through the shaft, but a sizeable mushroom head.

Leon watched from just outside the garage as Leon pulled the stranger up by his hair and spat on him. The he shoved him toward a saw horse and the stranger seemed to get the message. He bent over the sawhorse and offered his hole to Leon.

Brock wondered if the stranger knew about Leon's affiliation with the Scorpion Society. If he knew that, while Leon was likely on meds, he was HIV positive and proud of it. That he was part of an organization which thrived on infecting members to induct them into a world of sexual freedom and depravity.

All of Brock's questions were answered when he saw the stranger's own scorpion tattoo on his right inner thigh. Well that was anticlimactic, Brock thought.

Brock watched as Leon fucked the stranger with the same fervor and malice that had driven his earlier throat fucking. Brock was pretty sure he now understood what true sadism was. At least he had a better idea.

Through all of this, the stranger was unfazed. In fact he seemed almost oblivious...dissociated from it all. And that seemed to only make Leon work that much harder to get a reaction out of him.

Leon pounded his hole. He pulled out completely and then slammed back in as far as he could. He fucked him so hard the saw horse the stranger bent over was creaking in protest. Leon choked him. Spat on him. Ravaged his hole with his fingers when he wasn't brutalizing it with his cock.

Brock watched in equal parts awe and horror. At some point. He had fished his dick out of his jock strap and begun to stroke it. By that point, the stranger had noticed Brock's presence. It was apparent that the stranger wanted Brock's dick, too.

Brock moved just out of reach of the stranger, teasing him with the thought of getting Brock's dick inside him. The stranger began to whimper. Brock sampled his own precum slowly as the stranger watched helplessly. The stranger licked his lips.

"Restrain him," Brock commanded. He was a bit surprised at his own confidence. Leon maneuvered the stranger into a modified arm bar. For the first time, the stranger looked legitimately uncomfortable. He tried to squirm against the hold.

Brock stepped closer to the stranger, his hooded cock head just out of the reach of the stranger's tongue. Brock began to smear his precum all over the stranger's face. Each time getting close to, but never quite close enough to the stranger's mouth.

After he'd put a generous coat of his poisonous slime on the stranger's face, he stuffed his dick back in his jock and returned to watching, feigning disinterest. The stranger looked defeated.

And that seemed to be exactly what Leon was waiting for. His face was contorted and nearly purple with effort as he began to unload in the stranger's guts. When he was done spraying his medicated load, he pulled out, tucked his dick back in his pajama pants and headed for the door into the house.

"Security system comes on in 15 seconds. Don't be here when it does." Leon said to both of them.

Brock resumed his jock out of the neighborhood and headed back home. He needed to get ready for his date with uncle Dale.

[Cravetoxic22]

On 8/16/2023 at 1:47 PM, PozTalkAuthor said:

starting conversion on 3rd October - virus appreciation day!

That's like having your boyfriend's 2 lines on Valentine's and know to be his gifter...

I love stories where guys convert and are followed in their whole journey

I love it too! I love hearing about the whole process: the first decision to take poz loads, the foreplay and sex itself, then the waiting and finally the glorious fuck flu and ensuing conversion. It's a wonderful package and leaving out parts of it feels incomplete. 

[PozTalkAuthor]

1 hour ago, Cravetoxic22 said:

I love it too! I love hearing about the whole process: the first decision to take poz loads, the foreplay and sex itself, then the waiting and finally the glorious fuck flu and ensuing conversion. It's a wonderful package and leaving out parts of it feels incomplete. 

We have same tastes for stories! I'm happy when I can share them. Mostly, people here are for fast "pump, poz and dump" tales. That's not my thing. And if between pozzer and pozzed a bond develops -or strengthens-, even better! 

[Cravetoxic22]

4 hours ago, PozTalkAuthor said:

We have same tastes for stories! I'm happy when I can share them. Mostly, people here are for fast "pump, poz and dump" tales. That's not my thing. And if between pozzer and pozzed a bond develops -or strengthens-, even better! 

Totally! I also love reading your comments on the stories too. They're like a hot little teaser in between chapters after the main action. Glad we share the same philosophy. 

[PozTalkAuthor]

4 hours ago, Cravetoxic22 said:

Totally! I also love reading your comments on the stories too. They're like a hot little teaser in between chapters after the main action. Glad we share the same philosophy. 

we can talk whenever we want, message me without any problem if you want to confront 

[poztwinksrhot]

I binged this story today and am loving it!  Brock had a good working knowledge of sex going in, but it didn't take him long at all to figure out what he really wanted, and to get Dale to give it to him.  He's not even one day past his 18th birthday and has yet to walk out of the first porn store he's even been in when he looks up from the cock he was sucking and says "I want you to poz me, uncle Dale."  That's my kind of teen.  Horny, eager, and down to business.

It was tough to get past the point in the story where Dale pozzed his nephew, and again when Brock converted. I damn near blew, but held back.  I didn't want to wait another day to get to the end.

I'm also anxious to see if Aaron becomes one of Brock's conquests.  I hope so.  If Aaron isn't already poz, that needs to be fixed.

Something else I like is how the virus becomes a character, guiding Brock along and nudging him to go deeper into the world of sex and debauchery.  That's cool.  I'm looking forward to more of that, and seeing Brock willingly go deeper down that path.

Then we top it off with an author who takes the time to develop a plot and create detailed descriptions, on top of writing hot as fuck dialogue?  Damn.  This is some good shit.

Are there things I wish were different?  Sure. I imagine Brock to be clean shaven and smooth, and a little less jockish, but that's easy to "fix" in my mind, and I'm not dismissing the author's preferences.  You gotta write to what gets you hard.  Other than that?  I just think it's really hot, and hope we see more!

[norubbers]

Brock returned from his run to an empty house. His mom had already left for work, it seemed. He stripped off his shorts and jock on his way to the shower. He was fully hard by the time he ducked under the hot water.

Images of Leon fucking the unknown man flashed between thoughts of what it felt like to have power over the anonymous man - the anonymous man desperate for Brock's cock. Brock was certain that if the man had been allowed, he would have swallowed Brock's entire cock until Brock blew his load. Brock wondered if the man would be able to swallow his entire load. His entire venomous load. 

His phone chirped from the edge of the vanity and Brock snapped back to reality. He'd been stroking his cock slowly and was getting dangerously close to blowing his load down the shower drain.

His virus had made it very clear that was no longer acceptable. Where Brock had previously been able to jerk off and cum nearly on command, he found himself now reluctant to cum. He'd jerked off multiple times a day in the week since he had fucked his uncle. The day he lost count of how many loads he shot, when he fucked his uncle until he couldn't physically cum anymore. The day he blew his last negative loads and his first positive loads. The day, he was quite certain, he converted. But despite his efforts, he had been unable to get off from jerking off since.

He turned the shower off and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. His phone chirped again. It was his calendar reminder for his date with his uncle. He dried himself off, tied his hair back, and threw on briefs, jeans, and a flannel shirt. He was out the door a few minutes later.

----------

Brock pulled into the parking lot at the address his uncle had given him. He was slightly confused. According to the sign, the building housed the University's public health department. Brock had just grabbed his phone to text his uncle when a message popped up from him.

"Front door is open. I'll meet you inside"

When Brock got inside, Dale gave him a very tight hug. His uncle was dressed in some loose fitting athletic shorts and a muscle shirt. He must have come from the gym or something.

"How was your week, bud?" his uncle asked.

Brock gave Dale the highlights, leaving out his fantasies about fucking his scholar bowl coach and his excursion this morning. It slowly dawned on Brock that they seemed to be waiting for someone else.

"Who are we waiting for, uncle Dale?" Brock asked.

"Someone who's always late," Dale responded, annoyed. "Come on. He knows where he's going."

Dale led Brock through the building, which was a bit of a maze inside - thank you brutalist architecture. After several corners and hallways, they found themselves in a dead end that appeared to be set up as a lounge with a couch and a couple chairs.

Dale didn't hesitate. He walked straight over to the sofa, pulled the waistband of his shorts down to show his jockstrap-clad ass, and bent over the arm to present his hole to Brock. Brock's member stiffened instantly and within seconds, precum was soaking into his briefs.

Dale reached back and spread his cheeks wider. The blood had rushed from Brock's brain to his 9" dick which made it very difficult to make good decisions. Before he could give it a second thought, Brock had his jeans and briefs around his muscular thighs was sinking his granite member into his uncle's hole. Dale was pre lubed. Pre loaded, maybe?

Dale's hole welcomed Brock's invading prick readily for the first few inches. Dale groaned as more of his nephew's length entered his guts.

"Holy fuck that's a great dick, kiddo," Dale panted. After Brock's dick found resistance, Dale gritted his teeth and pushed back against his nephew. With ample help from his nephew's generous flow of venomous precum, Dale impaled his second sphincter on the poz rod between Brock's legs.

When Dale could feel Brock's thick mat of pubic hair against his ass, he stopped, just enjoying the incredible girth stretching his viscera. Brock could feel the days of unintentional edging coming to a rapid boil in his overfilled balls. Just the heat of his uncle's hole was enough to drive him toward the point of rapture. His virus wanted out. It yearned for freedom - to spread. Multiply.

Just as quickly as Dale had accepted Brock's member into him, he was sliding off of his nephew's cock and pulling his shorts up. Brock was screaming inside and an ache set into his balls.

"We are going to be late, bud. I just had to feel that cock in me." Dale said longingly. He set off down another hallway. Brock fumbled his briefs and jeans back up and set off after him, leaving behind the veritable puddle of biohazardous precum his uncle had left behind on the floor.

A few turns later they stopped outside of an office. The placard read "Fahrad Shah, MD." Uncle Dale knocked and a man with a thick accent beckoned them in.

Brock followed his uncle into the small office. It was set up like a doctor's office. Dr. Shah sat at the small counter with an array if vials and supplies in front of him. He looked to be in his early 30s and about 6' tall, average build. He had dark hair and light brown eyes. He had a tuft of coarse chest hair visible under the open collar of his shirt. His lab coat was embroidered with a biohazard emblem. The Scorpion motif Brock had become so familiar with was embroidered inside it.

Dr. Shah turned from the supplies on the table and extended his hand, first to Dale and then to Brock. Dr. Shah turned back to the supplies and Brock turned to Dale.

"What's going on, uncle Dale?" Brock asked.

"Dr. Shah is one of the top virologists in the country. He specializes in viral DNA and virus genealogy." Dale responded. His tone was cool and level with an undercurrent of something Brock couldn't quite identify. Excitement? Anticipation?

"Dr. Shah is going to test you to ensure you converted and didn't just have a bad flu. And if you're positive, he's going to run some additional tests."

Dale hesitated here. Dr. Shah continued meticulously preparing supplies. Brock began to feel uneasy. This was very different from the second video he had seen of Zeke. He had questions, but he couldn't ask them without Dale finding out he snooped that first night.

His thoughts thoughts were busily spiraling when there was a sharp knock on the door. Dr. Shah beckoned the newcomer in, again with his thick Iranian accent. Brock's Gaze snapped to the door in time to see Uncle Dale entering the office. And he looked pissed.