Part Three
The Carrier
Norm was a silver haired muscle dad standing six-two and packing two hundred and thirty five pounds of muscular bulk. His silver goatee was in contrast to his deeply tanned face, a testament to the hours he spent in the tanning booth at his neighborhood gym after his Goliathan workouts. He was on his thirtieth year with the United States Post Office, where he pounded the pavement as a mailman. But that wasn't why they called him "The Carrier." The real reason he was dubbed The Carrier was the fact that he was charged up HIV Positive, and showed zero symptoms. He was of of a stout German-Polish heritage, with a constitution that could throw off anything this corrupted planet could throw at it. Colds, flues...in this case HIV...Norm's immune system could bite it off and spit it out. Nothing delighted The Carrier more than dancing his tush off at a gay bar called The Vault. All the queers would stare and marvel at his wrought iron physique as he would gyrate and grind to the throbbing rhythm of some disco hit. At the same time every night, 1:10 AM to be exact, The Carrier would dramatically pull his skin tight shirt off and really show those queens what he had. then, later in the night, he would hustle some twink back up to the bedroom for some nipple to nipple steam. It was there that The Carrier would culminate his night out by "charging up" the twink; stuffing his rectum full of his uncut horsemeat, and as the smells of poppers and musky man sex filled the air, The Carrier would deliver The Ultimate Parcel, with a return address marked "DEATH".