The night Brock got pozzed

[norubbers]

37 minutes ago, JSCHIBB said:

Damn!  Like how Dale was tender to his nephew.  Can’t wait for the next chapter. 

There's a reason lol. I welcome any predictions people want to make about where things are going.

[JSCHIBB]

Well I was thinking that Dale may secretly be Brock’s real Dad. Even though Dale said it was Raymond.  

[norubbers]

6 minutes ago, JSCHIBB said:

Well I was thinking that Dale may secretly be Brock’s real Dad. Even though Dale said it was Raymond.  

Dale is definitely his uncle. We will meet Rodney in a few chapters. 

[JSCHIBB]

Well you got me for sure. Unless the two fall in love. 

[gingerdaddyG]

9 hours ago, norubbers said:

Dale is definitely his uncle. We will meet Rodney in a few chapters. 

Oh good - more chapters to cum!!! 😈

[norubbers]

The next chapter should be coming sometime tomorrow once I wrap up a project at work. Wanted to take a moment to say thanks for the engagement this story has been getting. It's a lot easier to write when I know there are people out there enjoying it and looking forward to the next part.

[Nypiss31]

Can't wait.. ty

[norubbers]

For what felt like an hour, Dale sat on the futon, holding his nephew in a strong, warm embrace. Their naked bodies radiated heat to each other. Dale sampled a healthy portion of his nephew's cum before retrieving clean towels from a nearby shelf. He helped his nephew clean up.

"It's late. You should probably have been home some time ago, bud," Dale said.

"Yeah. I should get dressed," Brock dressed quickly as his uncle watched. Traces of lust still danced behind his uncle's eyes. After Brock pulled his shirt on, Dale handed him the same card Brock had seen thrown at Zeke in the video. On the back he'd handwritten a phone number. 

"If the virus takes, you're going to get pretty sick. Call or text me. Seriously," Dale said. It didn't really come across as a request. And then he kissed his nephew on the forehead and walked him back past the heavy black curtain to his office. 

The disheveled man Brock had seen head back to the booths shortly after he'd arrived was sitting in front of the desk. He looked worse for the wear with some fresh bruises coming through on his face and a split lip oozing dark red blood. One eye was swollen almost completely closed.

The cashier sat on the corner of the desk next to the man, looking quite menacing with some fresh abrasions on his knuckles and an ice pack pressed to his jaw. Brock's uncle quickly took stock of the situation.

"You'll have to see yourself out, Brock. This demands my immediate attention," Dale said in a suddenly serious, no-nonsense tone.

Brock left his uncle and the two other men behind in the office and stepped back out into the store, nearly running into the man from the front row of the basement. He was headed for the door.

All the effort of the night finally caught up with Brock and he felt very suddenly weary. He followed after the man, trying not to seem like he was pursuing him.

As Brock stepped out of the store into the pitch dark September night, he saw the man getting into a Volvo parked on the curb. There was a single bumper sticker. It read "Park Village Thunder."

Brock's heart leaped into his throat as he quickly crossed the parking lot to his own car and got in. He threw his hat on top of his letter jacket. His Park Village High School letter jacket, with the Thunder logo embroidered on the chest.

----------

The next three weeks felt like the longest weeks to ever fly by. Not a single day passed without some thought about that night at the Block. Some days it was a nagging half thought in the back of his mind. Some days he milked four loads from his dick before lunch thinking about everything that happened.

On only two occasions had he really reflected on his decision willingly expose himself to HIV. He had concluded that he had no regrets and that if his uncle uncle's viral juices didn't convert him, he would try again after a month.

On October 3rd, Brock knew his uncle had been successful. He woke feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. He had a fever and chills, he felt weak and had no appetite. His mom called him out of school before she headed off to work. As soon as Brock was confident she was gone, he texted his uncle

"Woke up feeling like hell. Pretty sure you did itheb rnfhshsjfk dhdh h .?"

An hour later, Dale was using a credit card to let himself into his nephew's house. He found Brock passed out in his bed. His phone had more gibberish typed into an unsent message. He was sweaty, but sleeping peacefully.

Dale took the time to arrange him a bit more comfortably. Then he set about putting  together some bland food for when his nephew woke. Then he crawled in bed behind him and held him until he started to stir. Brock would wake, have a bit of the food prepared for him and alternate sleeping and spooning his uncle until about an hour before his mom would get home.

This continued for four more days. On day 5 of his conversion, Brock woke with his uncle's arms around him and a wrought iron beam between his legs. He was painfully hard. The virus had woken something slumbering deep within him.

Without a word, he maneuvered himself between his uncle's legs and pushed Dale's feet back toward his head. Dale woke from his own dozing to the squelch of his nephew's precum in his hole as Brock was beginning to work his cock in.

Dale gave no resistance. In fact, he seemed as though this was exactly what he was waiting for. Brock fucked Dale slowly, weak from his illness and hazy from the steady doses of poppers he and his uncle were using. 

When Brock was too weak, Dale would trade him places and ride him. Slowly milking his next load. In total, Brock filled his uncle with seven loads over 6 hours. Brock wasn't sure if these were his last negative loads or his first charged ones. They were probably both. All he knew was the little voice from the back of his mind that they must be inside someone. That all of his future loads must be inside someone.

As Dale was getting ready to leave, he hugged his nephew and handed him A folded slip of paper.

"Meet me here. Next Saturday afternoon," he said. He kissed his nephew once more on the forehead and left.

[viking8x6]

Fuck! Super hot writing! Five stars 🙂

[Pozguyinchi]

Great story!

[PozTalkAuthor]

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

[Nypiss31]

Very hot

[negchaserlooking]

Looking forward to Brock's journey.

[seattlebbbtm]

Love this tale 

[norubbers]

By Sunday morning, Brock had fully recovered. In fact, he felt better than new. His virus was like a Marvel Comics symbiote, feeding off his own life, but lending him its own strengths and will. God he could be such a nerd sometimes.

He stepped out of the shower wrapped his towel around his waist, and began working his way through his morning routine. He couldn't help but feel like things were off every time he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. Like he was looking at someone else's reflection.

Brock couldn't shake that feeling as he threw on some sweatpants and went downstairs to grab some breakfast. As he sat down at the table with his cereal, he found a note.

"Working a double. There's money in your account if you want to go shop for some clothes for senior pictures. If you want to go together, I will keep next Saturday open. Hope you're feeling better. Love, Mom"

For the first time in the last 5 weeks, Brock felt a pang of guilt. His mom would lose her mind if she knew what he'd been up to. She was just starting to come to terms with him being gay. Everything else would probably break her. She just wouldn't understand.

He shot a quick text off to Dale to say he felt better and would be headed up to the mall in the late morning. He finished his cereal and went back to his room. He put on compression shorts and jeans, his usual, and checked himself in the mirror.

Something still felt off. That was when he felt it. He felt like his dick was struggling against the compression shorts. Thoughts of symbiotes returned. He rummaged through his underwear. He found a couple old pairs of regular boxer briefs and an old jock. He tried them on. Well, tried to. None of them fit him anymore.

Brock had always been a big guy. Always tall for his age, but he had also been pretty husky until last year. His last big growth spurt - combined with two years of at least five hours a week of lifting and cardio - had turned him into something of a hunk. Broad, muscular shoulders and arms, muscular chest.

From there, his body tapered to a narrower waist, followed immediately by his firm, muscular ass and thighs and calves. He tossed his older, too loose underwear aside and started to put his compression shorts back on when inspiration hit. He tossed those on top of the pile of things that didn't fit anymore as well and pulled his jeans on over his bare skin.

He stole another glance at himself in the mirror. Hard, his dick was about 9" and uncut. Soft, he Ranged from 5"-6" depending on the weather and how horny he was. The thinner, well-worn denim left little to the imagination. Today was pleasantly warm and he was very horny despite his marathon fucking of his uncle. His bulge was prominent down the left side of his jeans. His reflection didn't feel as "off" anymore.

As he was pulling on a henley, his phone chirped.

His uncle Dale had responded. "What's bringing you to town?" 

"School clothes"

"2128 Main St. South. Tell them I sent you. Might see you there."

Brock grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

----------

"Valhalla Outfitters" the signage read. There were no display windows and the windows to the interior were tinted darkly enough Brock couldn't see inside. For a moment, he thought about getting back in his car and driving up to the mall to buy the two pairs of jeans American Eagle would have in his size and some shirts from the gap.

However, he was outvoted by the virus and his dick. If his uncle had recommended the place, there had to be a reason. When he walked in, he felt like he understood a bit better. The sales floor looked like a Hollister run by someone with all the apparel fetishes. The sales floor had everything from men's "Daisy Dukes" to bespoke suits. 

He spotted an entire wall of designer underwear but stopped himself short of making a B-line to it. Forcing himself to take a detour to what he could only describe as the lumberjack emporium. He was browsing a rack of summer and fall weight flannel when he heard someone clear their throat nearby.

He looked over and did a double take.

"What can I help you find today, young man." The man speaking to him was the man with glasses he'd seen in the basement of the Block that fateful night. The man didn't appear to recognize him.

"Um..I'm looking for back to school clothes. My uncle Dale recommended this place."

The man's demeanor shifted a bit at the mention of my uncle's name. 

"Let's get your measurements, then, and I'll have someone pull some things to try on. I'm Iain. Baxter." He walked Brock back toward the fitting rooms.

Brock had only been measured once before when he was the ring bearer in his cousin's wedding. He was 6. He expected the process to be more uncomfortable. Other than the ridiculous number of measurements, it was uneventful.

Iain walked Brock out of the fitting area. "Wait here," he said and disappeared behind a door marked "employees only" on a brass placard. Branded into the wood next to the placard was the stylized scorpion he had watched tattooed onto Zeke. The same tattoo his uncle had on his abdomen.

Brock could feel the blood rushing to his member and knew that if he had any stimulation of his penis - even a small flex of his erectile musculature, the dam would break and he would have a raging erection.