The night Brock got pozzed

[norubbers]

12 hours ago, poztwinksrhot said:

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!

You'll have to stay tuned hehehe. I will tell you we have only seen the beginning of Aaron's story. And Aaron is probably going to be the twink you're looking for heheh, but if he's not to your liking, there are at least 2 more twinks in upcoming installments.

[negchaserlooking]

The plot thickens ☣️😈

[BergenGuy]

On 9/19/2023 at 3:38 PM, norubbers said:

Brock's Gaze snapped to the door in time to see Uncle Dale entering the office. And he looked pissed.

I'm confused.  I thought that Dale was already in the office.  After all, he was the one who introduced Brock to Dr. Shah.

[norubbers]

2 hours ago, BergenGuy said:

I'm confused.

So is Brock. Sorry for the extended cliffhanger. Next part will be up soon. Meant to have it up the next day. Life got in the way.

[norubbers]

In what seemed like a blink, Dale entered the room and decked the lookalike that Brock had met at the entrance of the building. The man Brock had thought was his uncle. The man who had been so eager to get Brock's dick in him this morning. The imposter crumpled to the floor clutching his nose, which was bleeding profusely.

Brock was caught off guard and shrunk back from the two men. Dr. Shah stood on reflex, seemingly more to protect his supplies than to intervene in the altercation.

Dale turned to Brock and winced at the look on his nephew's face - watching someone lose trust in you in real time is never pleasant. 

"Sorry I'm late, bud." Dale offered.

"What. The fuck. Is going on?" Brock asked with icy pointedness, still distancing himself from Dale and his doppelganger.

"Brock, meet my brother Rod. My twin brother Rod," Dale said with an unamused dryness. Dale nudged Rod with the toe of his boot, rolling his brother a bit onto his back. As he rolled, his shirt rode up in the front and Brock noticed the conspicuous absence of a scorpion tattoo where Dale's was on his lower abdomen.

"I'd planned for you to meet your dad a little differently," Dale said. The statement seemed more intended for Rod than Brock.

"What is he doing here? What's going on?" Brock's brain itched a little when Rod was referred to as his dad. As though he couldn't figure out where to comfortably put that information in his brain.

"The fuck did you tell him?" Dale's attention was back on Rod. Something was seething under the surface of his tone. Brock was pretty sure they crossed the line of "dysfunctional" long before this moment, but he got the impression that even if the brothers' sexual proclivities were "traditional," this family wouldn't even approach the realm of functional.

"We just got in here, I was telling him about Dr. Shah," Rod forced out around his potentially broken nose. Dale looked to Brock, seemingly for confirmation and Brock nodded back tentatively.

"We're here to get you tested, bud. To be absolutely certain the virus took. And if it did, to ensure it's my strain that you've got." Dale said matter of factly. Dale shot a withering glance at his brother. "As for why he's here, i suppose he thinks this is about him."

"I got sick. I haven't had sex with anyone but you. Of course I got your strain," Brock sputtered. Realizing that wasn't quite true as of a few minutes ago.

"Of course this is about me!" Rod shouted incredulously. "He's my kid!"

"We have to be 100% certain," Dale said with a tone of finality, "because..."

"Because you're dying," Dr. Shah finished for him. "Unless you start meds."

A somber silence sat on the room like a lazy cat in the sun. Brock sat down on the exam table. Dale broke the silence by beginning to explain about the Scorpion Society. The basics, unbeknownst to Dale, Brock already knew.

"The society was founded by the viral descendants of the first known case of HIV in North America. We have tasked ourselves with preserving the purity of the first strain. We do that by enforcing a strict hierarchy based on how far removed a person is from that strain."

"The current Jarls are direct recipients of that first strain. Their role is to convert others by passing their strain along and coaching those who receive it. Those who keep their strain pure and unmedicated are eligible to be Thanes. Those who go on meds are welcome as citizens. Those who receive their strain from Thanes are also welcome as citizens regardless of meds. Anyone converted by citizens or outsiders is too far removed from the first strain and is not welcome."

"Dale and I are both Jarls," Rod chimed in. He pulled the collar of his muscle shirt down to show off his orange scorpion tattoo on his left pec. "Dale runs the local nest. I run a nest up in Chicago."

"So, what happens if a Jarl has to step down?" Brock asked, the gears beginning to turn.

"Normally, the Thanes keep the nest running until everyone can be re-homed," Dale replied. "But in the case of my nest, the power vacuum left in my absence could threaten the entire Society."

"So, where do I factor in?" Brock realized this question still had not been answered. Dale turned to Dr. Shah, who had finished prepping supplies and was wheeling a metal table over toward Brock.

"I research viral heredity, Brock. In theory, infection under the right circumstances could result in a viral strain that is substantially similar enough to the existing Jarls that we can make a case for succession," Dr. Shah explained, "circumstances like if the strain passed to a close relative of an existing Jarl." 

"You want me to be in charge!?" Brock's heart was pounding in his temples and his ears were ringing even before he was consciously aware of the implications. 

"One step at a time, bud," Dale reassured him, "first things first, we need to confirm you're poz. But eventually, yes. That is the general idea."

Dr. Shah was putting on exam gloves. Brock was unfazed by needles. In fact, he'd kind of always been fascinated by them. When he was younger he used to delight in watching his veins pop up distal to the tourniquet. His favorite nurse at his pediatricians office had always made it a a race, commentating on them like it was NASCAR or something.

Dr. Shah had no trouble finding a suitable vein. Brock had been so wrapped up listening to the three men in the room talk about this undertaking that he'd been oblivious to the fact that he was well on his way to a raging erection. He blamed the sudden attention from the handsome doctor.

Dr. Shah talked Brock through every step in the process as he sanitized his arm and prepared to insert the needle. The doctor's experience was evident, as Brock didn't even feel the stick. He only knew it happened because he watched it. Despite the lack of sensation, the whole thing felt very erotic to Brock.

Brock observed as his blood - his presumably extremely viral blood - crept its way from the needle to the waiting vials. Brock's erection was now full mast, even beginning to throb. He could already feel his precum soaking through his briefs and making his jeans damp.

When Dr. Shah had the blood he needed, he quickly placed samples in several places. Brock looked around the room and could see that his uncle rock hard and also making a mess of the front of his jeans. Rod had pulled the waistband of his shorts down and pulled his dick out of the pouch of his jock and was openly stroking, his precum making excellent lube.

Dr. Shah returned to the side of the exam table, his own bulge very noticeable in his khaki chinos.

"Now, let us get to work on the other sample," Dr. Shah said, a thread of lust running through his voice as he began to unbuckle his belt.

Edited September 26, 2023 by norubbers

[seattlebbbtm]

This is an awesome story 

[BBArchangel]

Ah, for the good old days of Beeline novels and Greenleaf Classics. Or even BadBoy Books. It would be fun to have this work behind covers and on my bookshelves!

[norubbers]

6 hours ago, BBArchangel said:

Ah, for the good old days of Beeline novels and Greenleaf Classics. Or even BadBoy Books. It would be fun to have this work behind covers and on my bookshelves!

Not familiar with any of these, so I'm not sure if this is positive feedback or not lol.

[BBArchangel]

4 hours ago, norubbers said:

Not familiar with any of these, so I'm not sure if this is positive feedback or not lol.

Oh, positive feedback. These are two of the leading paperback porn publishers during the 60s and 70s. Maybe even as early as the 50s they were often found in the spinner racks at airports or train stations. “Books for the traveling man.” They were hardcore fun. They’re also kind of collectible. 

I still have a number of these on my paperback shelves. A lot of well-known writers, names you would recognize, wrote these books, as a sort of sideline, the way to pick up extra pocket money. As I mentioned, in my profile, I worked my way through college, basically by writing fiction for most of the gay men’s magazines and publications at the time Back when they actually paid money for your stories and so please take what I said about your story as a compliment. 

[norubbers]

1 hour ago, BBArchangel said:

Oh, positive feedback. These are two of the leading paperback porn publishers during the 60s and 70s. Maybe even as early as the 50s they were often found in the spinner racks at airports or train stations. “Books for the traveling man.” They were hardcore fun. They’re also kind of collectible. 

I still have a number of these on my paperback shelves. A lot of well-known writers, names you would recognize, wrote these books, as a sort of sideline, the way to pick up extra pocket money. As I mentioned, in my profile, I worked my way through college, basically by writing fiction for most of the gay men’s magazines and publications at the time Back when they actually paid money for your stories and so please take what I said about your story as a compliment. 

Well thank you for the compliment 😁

[Versdc]

Super hot, and I love the plot twists

[Mysteryman10]

On 6/27/2023 at 8:47 PM, norubbers said:

Brock's heart was racing. He hadn't even gotten out of the car and he could feel his pulse in his temples.

Brock was just starting his senior year of high school and the closest he had gotten to sex was mutual masturbation with friends during their much more curious years. Before it got weird. Those days were long past.

He had chatted with countless guys online about the 'Block. On websites he hadn't technically been old enough to access. But hey, thats growing up gay in small town America. What else was there to do? None of that mattered now, though. It was his 18th birthday and here he was in the parking lot of this local legend.

Brock's dick stirred in his jeans a bit. It was now or never, and he knew it. He pulled a ball cap on and headed for the door. There were a couple other cars in the parking lot, he noted. He opened the door - no window, which struck him as odd - and stepped in.

The place was seedy on a level Brock could not have imagined. The locals in the chat rooms did not do this place justice. The floor was sticky and the air smelled like an ashtray filled with cum. The entire space was poorly lit. The walls were lined with case displays full of DVDs and VHS tapes. Most of the displays were sticky, too. The center section of the store was cramped with shelves packed full of magazines and small books of erotica. There was a small section of Polaroids lined up in a box like trading cards as well as packets of pictures like you get when you develop film. The products only filled half of the overall space. The other section looked empty as far as Brock could tell.

The single register was manned by a guy who had to be in his 60s. Bald on top with some coarse white hair left on the back and sides. He sported an unkempt beard. He was dressed in tattered camo pants and a beat up leather vest. No shirt. His entire torso was a canvas of tattoos of wildly differing quality. He was smoking a cigarette inside despite the city wide ordinance prohibiting smoking indoors. Brock's dick stirred again.

The cashier gave Brock a glance over. Brock had been able to buy his mom's cigarettes without getting carded since he was 15. He'd always been big for his age, but his last growth spurt had put him just over 6'6" tall and switching out of general PE into the athletic conditioning class had put about 215 pounds of muscle on that frame. Coupled with his beard, which had stopped being patchy last year and now looked really good if he kept it trimmed, everyone assumed he was older than he was. The cashier included, evidently, because he turned his attention back to a small TV on the counter as Brock was reaching for his wallet to pull out his license.

Brock quickly found a display of DVDs to pretend he was perusing. He noted that besides himself and the cashier, the place was empty. He again noted that his pulse was racing.

He began to legitimately browse the shelves, hoping the distraction would calm him down. Brock had a fair amount of exposure to porn at this point - again, what else was a gay boy supposed to do in the midwest - but he noted he had never heard of any of the studios or performers he saw on the cases. In fact, one display very near the register was full of cases that just had plain paper inserts with things like "010120 'Chuck' 48" written in sharpie.

Brock scanned the case. "082805 'Carl' 62," he read. He heard the bell on the door chime and nearly jumped out of his skin. He very unsubtly turned to see who was walking in through that windowless door.

The man walking in was a little shorter than average and overweight. Probably in his early 50s. He had beady, dark eyes and stringy brown hair. If the cashier looked unkempt, this man looked disheveled. Stained gray sweatpants and an A shirt that probably was white at some point. The man didn't even acknowledge Brock on his way to the counter. He threw a pack of cigarettes at the cashier, who disinterestedly put a stack of coins on the counter.

The man quickly snatched up the coins and shuffled off past the desk to the empty section of the store. Brock stared after him just a little too long.

"There's preview booths in the back if you see something you want to try before you buy," he said.

Brock jumped again. "Uh...thanks," he stammered. The cashier went back to his little TV. Brock could feel himself losing his nerve as his pulse crept up again and his breathing became irregular. He felt like he might throw up or pass out. Probably both. He spotted a hallway lit by a single orange bulb in the back area and took off that direction, hoping it led to the bathroom.

As Brock drew closer to the hallway, his nerves settled a bit. Which was good because the hallway wasn't really a hallway. It was an exit to the outside that appeared to be welded shut and a staircase, presumably to a basement. Brock realized that his 18 year old dick was rock hard in the wake of everything he had seen so far. It struck him as odd that this area would just be left open and the cashier wasn't making any effort to stop him, so he started down into the dark of the basement.

I would love to get my hands on some of those real pozzing porn tapes. This story is brilliant as you go into more details than just the pozzing - I love that and I thank you for keeping me hard and wanting more.

[norubbers]

Disclaimer: there is condom sex in this chapter. It serves the plot. Sorry in advance if you're totally opposed to that.

 

"The last thing I need is a sterile semen sample, Brock," Dr. Shah explained as he took off his pants. His white Calvin Klein briefs stood out against his darker complexion, and Brock could see that his chest wasn't the only part of him that was hairy.

"After I prep you, you cannot touch your dick until after I have the specimen," he continued. As Dr. Shah took his briefs off, Brock nearly lunged off the exam table to get at the doctors cock. Dr. Shah had the shortest dick in the room by at least an inch, but he was a very close second behind Brock for thickest.

Brock had never encountered another penis even close to as thick as his. His uncle' dick was amazing, but only a bit thicker than average. Even the guys he had seen in the lockerrooms or changing at the pool fell short of Brock.

As he held it, the girth felt very familiar. Brock moved to take the doctor's member in his mouth, but was stopped by Dr. Shah's firm grip on his shoulder.

"Business today, Brock," he scolded. He nodded at Rod and Dale, who moved to restrain Brock. Dr. Shah had taken a condom wrapper from his pocket. "I'm going to clean your penis and then I am going to fuck you until you ejaculate, Brock. I will collect your semen directly in this specimen cup. It is imperative that after I clean you, nothing touches your penis. Is that clear?"

Brock nodded. The doctor proceeded. When Brock was undressed and prepped, Dr. Shah slathered a generous amount of sterile lube on and in his hole. Again, the doctor's experience was on display. Dr. Shah's intention and confidence was putting Brock at ease. And turning him on.

Finally, Dr. Shah rolled the condom down his erect cock. Brock started to make a noise of protest, but was stopped by his uncle.

"Dr. Shah is negative -"

"For now," Rod interjected.

"- and engaged," Dale finished pointedly. He is one of very few people outside the Society that knows it exists."

Brock reluctantly nodded his understanding.

Dr. Shah positioned himself at Brock's hole. With firm, even pressure, he began to slowly insert the head of his dick into Brock. Brock couldn't tell if it was his inexperience or the doctor's girth, but something made this process intense. Dr. Shah didn't stop until he had his full length inside Brock.

By the time Dr. Shah had gotten all 6.5" of his member inside, Brock was panting and straining against Dale and Rod's restraint.

"FuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUCK!" Brock was nearly shouting. Dr. Shah had taken a brief moment of pause when he was fully inside Brock. Brock continued to breathe heavily, desperately willing his guts to relax to accommodate Dr. Shah's thickness.

Dr. Shah began to move in and out of Brock. Thrusting wasn't quite the right word. His movements were more fluid, like waves rolling in and receding. Brock's entire body felt like he had been hit by lightning. The thrill of ecstasy pulsed from deep within. He tried to take notes on how Dr. Shah moved his body. This was a skill. A skill he needed to have.

Dale had done a number on Brock's prostate when he took Brock's virginity, but this was something else entirely. This was like his prostate was being massaged - almost milked by the doctor's smooth, constant rhythm.

Insertion flowed seamlessly into withdrawal. Brock was bewildered by the sensation of it. He could only differentiate the two by the occasional slap of the doctor's thighs against Brock's muscular cheeks.

Dr. Shah was speaking Farsi and Brock had no idea what he was saying, but the tone suggested he was telling Brock what a great hole he had. Brock managed to moan in response.

Brock and Rod simultaneously realized that Dr. Shah had only forbidden anyone touching Brock's dick. Brock turned to his father and engulfed the 8", precum-slick member his father had been stroking moments before. His uncle, meanwhile, was busily extracting his own identical cock from the confines of his precum soaked jeans.

Brock alternated between the matched pair of cocks on either side of him. He would have to chuckle later at the fact that they truly were identical. Brock was already overwhelmed by the sensations in his hole and the confusion of the duplicate dicks when Rod pulled a small ampule out of his pocket.

Brock was intimately familiar with poppers already. They had featured in all of his sexual encounters thus far. He liked them so much, he used them most of the time when edging, too. But what he had used were a pale imitation of what Rod had pulled from his pocket.

Rod cracked the ampule and inhaled deeply before holding it under Brock's nose. Brock had a glimpse of a thought that his poppers smelled different. That flicker of a though fleeted away as something primal took over. Brock experienced the next few minutes like it was being explained to him via PowerPoint. Dissociated from everything with lucid flashes as each new slide was shown.

He deep throated his father and uncle in turn, swallowing every drop he could of their virus-laced precum. His own virus resonated with a kind of camaraderie. Dr. Shah had picked up the pace as he continued his gyrating exploration of Brock's insides. Intense pulses of pleasure from his prostate were a metronome keeping time for Dr. Shah's dance-like fucking. Brock wasn't sure how much time passed before his head cleared. He looked around to see the older men also regaining their composure.

"The fuck was that?" Brock asked hazily.

"The benefits of being in a big city," Rod replied, offering another hit, which Brock eagerly took. He sank slowly back into the gentle, warm haze where the only things that mattered were his pleasure and the pleasure of the men around him

Brock suddenly became aware of the pressure building both in his balls, and in his prostate. He started to say he was about to cum, but it came out as a gutteral moan as he began shooting veritable ropes of cum.

Brock was a distance shooter and typically shot very thick loads. And in quantities that could only be described as copious. The doctor's fucking and whatever his father had dosed him with dialed all of that up to 11.

In the aftermath, Dr. Shah was screwing a lid on a specimen container that was full of pearly white semen. That was less than half of what Brock had shot. The rest was on his chest and abdomen, the exam table, the floor, and the wall behind the exam table. At least two spurts had hit the celing above the bed.

Once the specimen container was sealed, his father and uncle pushed themselves over the edge within a second of each other. Their poison seed shot across Brock's hairy body from either side. When they had finished, Dr. Shah stepped up beside Brock's face and removed the condom. Without touching his dick, he began oozing the brightest white cum Brock had ever seen. It smelled like someone could get pregnant just by looking at it. Like distilled virility. It was as viscous as his dick was thick. It was incredible.

Dr. Shah's leaked his concentrated cum all over Brock's face and beard. Brock eagerly licked what he could out of his facial hair and used his fingers to ingest the rest.

His father and uncle eagerly helped clean up. Mostly with their tongues, but some towels were used on the floor at least. Dr. Shah went back to processing the samples.

"We should have results by Wednesday," Dr. Shah said as they finished cleaning up and Brock got redressed. They each shook Dr. Shah's hand as they prepared to leave. Brock chuckled a little.

"Dr. Shah, aren't there easier ways to get a sterile semen sample?" He asked in a voice equal parts entertained and incredulous.

"Yes," Dr. Shah responded. God his accent was sexy.

"So why..." Brock gestured around indiscriminately, "all of this?"

"This was more fun," Dr. Shah replied matter of factly. He had a mischievous glint in his light brown eyes as he smiled genuinely at Brock. "I'll call you with your results."

 

[billy88666]

I must give Dr Shah a call for a test myself 🐷

[norubbers]

Brock stared out the third floor window at the cloudy, rainy sky. He had tuned Mr. Bryant out a while ago. They were reviewing limits. Brock could do limits in his sleep - or, as he recently learned, gooned out of his mind on poppers with a raging erection. Not even Mr. Bryant's thick ass in his khakis could hold Brock's attention today, though.

It was Wednesday. Brock had hoped to hear out of Dr. Shah first thing this morning. With each passing class period, he got more and more anxious that he wouldn't get the call. Had the virus not taken? Had all this new sexual confidence been a hallucination? A placebo?

Brock's member pulsed in protest. Like hell it was. Brock could feel the virus pulse through him with every heartbeat. He could feel its desires every time a stiff breeze stirred past his dick. This was real. It had to be.

His phone vibrating sent a jolt through him. His hand shot into his pocket, but the damage was done. Having finished writing the next problem on the board, Mr. Bryant's eyes locked onto him. He must have heard the vibrating.

"Mr. Baird, since you seem to have more important things going on, what is the limit of this equation?" Mr. Bryant was pissed. No, not pissed. Disappointed.

An anvil of guilt settled in Brock's stomach. Mr. Bryant was the one teacher Brock actually liked at this school. Brock hated this feeling he wasn't living up to Mr. Bryant's expectations.

"There is no limit," Brock said, withering sheepishly under Mr. Bryant's steely gaze.

"Correct. Now show us how you got there. And leave your phone on my desk. You know the rule. You can have it back at the end of the day."

"But, Mr. Bryant...!" Brock started to protest.

"But nothing Mr. Baird. Show all your work, please."

Brock died a little inside as he worried he'd ruined his rapport with Mr. Bryant. As he placed his phone on Mr. Bryant's desk, he saw the voicemail notification from a university phone number. If he'd died before, that buried him.

Brock worked through the problem, including the tricky substitution Mr. Bryant had been fishing for. This seemed to satisfy Mr. Bryant and he dismissed Brock back to his seat. "See me after school, Brock," he added, his tone had softened a bit.

----------

Brock shambled through the rest of the day in a zombified stupor. He eventually found himself with the key in the door of his Ford Probe when he remembered he was supposed to see Mr. Bryant. His head snapped up with the realization and he turned to head back into the building.

His brain short-circuited a bit as he saw Mr. Bryant walking toward him already.

"Uh...sorry, Mr. Bryant. I just remembered...I was about to head back in..." Brock stammered.

Mr. Bryant held his phone out to him. "It's okay. I saw you at your locker and could tell you'd forgotten. What's going on, Brock?" His inquiry was beginning to feel like an inquisition.

"You're very distracted the last couple of weeks. I get senioritis. I mean, hell, mine drove me off to join the navy and to be a nomad for two years before I knuckled under and got a big boy job. But this looks like more than senioritis, bud."

Brock's mind swirled and he felt very light headed. Some part of him wanted to talk to Mr. Bryant. About EVERYTHING. "Mr. Bryant, I have been under a lot of pressure lately. My mom is working all the time, my class load this year is insane, and my uncle and dad..."

Logic held just tight enough to the fringes of his mind and clipped that last thought before it could bloom out of his mouth. A wave of empathy swept over Mr. Bryant's face. "Brock, you can talk to me about anything..."

Brock gave up trying to sort the tangle of emotions he was feeling and let it settle as a knot in the back of his throat. "I really appreciate that, Mr. Bryant. I need to sort some stuff out, but I'll tell you soon. I promise..."

Mr. Bryant pulled Brock into a very tight hug. "I mean it, Brock. Anything." The hug lasted just a beat too long, which Brock and Mr. Bryant seemed to realize at the same moment, pulling away simultaneously. Mr. Bryant turned silently and headed back in the building. Brock dropped into the driver's seat of his car.

----------

Brock pulled into his driveway. He flipped open his phone and saw two voicemails and a text from Uncle Dale. The first voicemail was from Dr. Shah.

"Hello Mr. Baird, this is Dr. Shah. I am calling you with some recent test results..."

Brock thought he sounded very professional and by-the-book.

The second voice mail was also from Dr. Shah.

"Brock, your results came back even better than we could have hoped. I will see you on Saturday."

His tone was very hushed and excited. The professional tone was gone and he sounded...almost giddy.

Confused, Brock opened the text from Dale.

"Meeting. Saturday. 9pm at the 'Block. Do NOT be late."