The following post is part of a thread following the valuable, life-saving work of Master Albert, a Protector Alpha in his mid-forties who is a medical doctor and has also owned and used faggots for most of his life! CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!

One of the great aspects of running this site is the unique opportunity I have to meet and collaborate with some of the most incredible Alpha teachers and leaders among Men. I’ve met very wealthy Alphas with multiple owned faggots around the world, high-ranking military Alphas who owned and groomed personal faggots, and so forth. It’s always a privilege to learn how these Men operate at such a high level.

I count Master Albert among such elite Alphas. A medical doctor who is also a dominant Master of faggots, his wisdom and guidance has already rocked this site and beautified it with the one thing I cherish above all else: truth and knowledge.

Being a great Protector Alpha, Master Albert sees issues that harm vulnerable faggots, and wants to help them. How invaluable is that? In his latest column, he wanted to shed some light on a common misconception about PrEP, the wondrous prophylactic medication to prevent HIV infection that changed the trajectory of the AIDS crisis.

Hi, this is Albert again, the boring doctor who is here to tell bottoms not to be bred by dozens of random men in a filthy dark room.

I have a lot of stories and account to share in all these years as a doctor. If you don’t mind Sam, I would like to share some of those stories here to assist the faggots here to have a safer life.

This story happened a few months ago and broke my heart, but it has a happy end (thanks to me! lol). I received a 18-year-old patient complaining of severe anal itching. He told me that he had been feeling discomfort for three months but was trying to solve by himself at home to avoid telling his parents that he had been bred by a random guy from Grindr. As I always do, I told the boy to calm down and told him that, since he was not a minor, I did not need to talk to his parents about anything. Everything would be confidential as part of our doctor-patient relationship. I asked about his sexual habits and did the basic questions about his symptoms, how often he felt it itchy, etc. He had had sex only once, and lost his virginity with a random guy from Grindr whose name he didn’t know and was 35 years older than him (WHAT CAN POSSIBLY GO WRONG, RIGHT?) In 5 minutes even before looking at the region, I had my diagnosis: “this boy has gonorrhea and it is probably really bad.”

I asked him to undress, wore my gloves, and started touching his balls and ass (I am using here completely unappropriated and non-medical terms just to make it easier). Testicular pain and rectal infection are two common symptoms of gonorrhea. As soon as I touch his balls very gently, the boy immediately said “ouch, it hurts!”, which indicates a very severe stage of the disease. Then I examined his anus and my worst expectations come true… the thing was so bad that just with a soft touch his hole started to bleed. I felt really sorry for that boy. He was so sweet, so young, so innocent, I took some cotton and tissues, I cleaned all the blood that he was leaking, told him to dress again, threw away my gloves, and told him that we needed to have a conversation.

I just said “you have gonorrhea”, and the boy started to weep so bad. He reacted as if I had told him that his mother had died. And then he looked to the floor, crying non-stop and he only repeated “but I am on PrEP! I am on PrEP! What now, doctor? Am I going to die?” He was so ashamed that he was trying to justify that it was not his fault. I am very used to this with both with boys and girls, so fortunately I know how to manage this situation. And I really want to highlight this message to your audience because I see a lot of young gays who do not understand what PrEP is, they think it is a miracle solution for humanity’s problems.

So let me make it clear: PrEP (Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis) is highly effective at preventing ONLY HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus). It does reduce the risk by about 99% if used properly, but IT DOES NOT COVER other Sexually Transmitted Infections. If you boys take PrEP, you are still exposed to chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis, herpes, hepatitis, and many other STIs.

This patient was devastated and he illustrates very well the danger of misinformation. He truly thought that, once he started taking PrEP, he could go around being bred by random men and nothing would ever happen. I cleaned the boy’s faces with a tissue, told him that everything was alright, and that I would help him to overcome all his problems. He was panicking with his parents finding out what he did, but fortunately they had no medical knowledge, so I prescribed all the antibiotics and told him that he could just tell his parents to buy them for a sore throat (which he also had because he sucked the guys as well).

In the end, everything was fine. The boy took all the medicines correctly, his parents never found out he is a faggot, and in 3 weeks of correct treatment he was not feeling any pain anymore. He came back to my office 4 months later for a check-up and what a relief, he was pretty, joyful, and with a beautiful smile. But still, he was so scared that he was really afraid of having sex again. I have him 12 condoms and free samples of lube, and told him the same thing I told Nick in my previous post.

I wanna share this with you because this patient illustrates a very dangerous combination: lack of Sex Education and homophobic parents. Millions of fags around the world take so much unnecessary risk because of this combination. They don’t know how their bodies work, they don’t know how diseases work, and they cannot talk about this topic with their parents… what a tragedy. This patient was so poorly informed that he didn’t know how gonorrhea is transmitted and when I gave him the diagnosis, he asked if he was going to die (which of course would never happen with antibiotics we have today)

I hope that American fags have better access to Sex Ed (am I too optimistic?) but in any case I want to share this story of a lot of unnecessary shame, pain, and suffering to tell the boys that the correct combination if you are going to have sex with a random guy, specially if they are 35+, is always PrEP + condoms + lots of lube.

I hope this helps! If I can keep one faggot safer, it is worth spending 20 minutes of my busy day telling you this story.

Thank you so much, Master Albert! This is such important information!

If you have any questions for Master Albert, leave comments below!

I was born in 1978, so my entire conscious life as a homosexual and a faggot has been lived under the spectre of HIV and AIDS. It’s hard to explain to younger people what that has been like. Yes, technically they have had to deal with that as well, but to them HIV is a chronic and manageable illness thanks to the incredible medicines introduced in 1996.

But it was an absolute death sentence before 1996.

Back then, death came at diagnosis. The ostracism of terrified healthy people with their hatred and judgements made life almost unlivable before the disease actually took them. Then came the wave of opportunistic diseases as their immune systems collapsed, frightening and sometimes disfiguring conditions with terrifying names like toxoplasmosis, Kaposi’s sarcoma, Back then, death came at diagnosis; the ostracism of terrified healthy people with their hatred and judgements made life almost unlivable before the disease actually took them. Then came the wave of opportunistic diseases as their immune systems collapsed, frightening and sometimes disfiguring conditions with terrifying names like toxoplasmosis, Kaposi’s sarcoma, candidiasis, or Pneumocystis pneumonia that would ravage their bodies without relief.

The death of my gay friend Stephen in 1995 from AIDS spurred me to learn much more about the disease than any other HIV- person I knew. For a time I was actively part of a group of famous people known as “AIDS dissidents” who questioned the idea that HIV directly caused AIDS. Of course, my propensity for research-based conclusions eventually led me to fight with these people; In the late nineties I had a vicious back-and-forth with famed writer Celia Farber and her intractable views that science and evidence continually disproved until she finally cut me off. Yeah, I’ve always been a firebrand.

The shadow of HIV/AIDS is a long, cold one that has suffocated at least one entire generation – mine. Yet from that shadow rise voices and examples of those who went to their death struggling to cobble together some amount of dignity as their bodies failed. They wink at us like fireflies in the descending dusk. I thought about them when I was fighting for my life through cancer in 2018, and again though a blood infection of staph in 2020.

Why am I still here, and they are gone?

I feel like a soldier that took the beach in Normandy, only to look around at my friends all blown to pieces or missing limbs and strewn across the bloody sand like refuse. There is gratitude, of course, but also a vacuous void inside me. It’s a hollow victory.

I recently watched a documentary on Pedro Zamora, the beautiful gay boy featured on Season 3 of MTV’s revolutionary “reality” series The Real World in 1994. This particular season was as real as it gets, because Pedro was HIV+ and proudly advocating for knowledge and understanding. I watched that season, and Pedro made an impact on me. To see that bright, adorable young man so bravely stand up for himself during the show, only to fall terribly ill and die a few months later, was impossible to ignore. The memory of that last picture of him, crippled and nearly comatose just a day before his death, still haunts me.

And that’s the perfect word: haunted. My generation of gays is haunted by all of the hollow eyes and piercing cries of those lost to this discriminatory plague. And no matter how long I live here, I will never not hear them or see them.

Which is why I dearly love what Madonna did on her most recent tour. She took her classic “Live To Tell” and used it as a way to pay homage to all of the artists who died of AIDS around her over the course of her long career. The song was not originally about AIDS deaths, but it becomes the only anthem for people like me and Madonna and any others who survived the horror of it all.

As a gay male who’s old enough to remember some of the darkness of the AIDS crisis in the ‘80s and the few heroes who fought it, I’m ashamed I’ve never heard the following story. Ruth Coker Burks should be heralded for her unselfish compassion and love in the face of horrible odds and even worse hatred and homophobia.

Ruth Coker Burks was just in her twenties when she found herself sitting at the bedside of a dying man with AIDS in a Little Rock hospital in the early 1980s, holding his hand because his family wouldn’t come. At a time when fear and ignorance about AIDS were rampant, when people thought you could catch it from a touch, she became the person who stayed. She wasn’t a nurse, or a doctor, or an activist with a microphone—she was just there, over and over again, when young men, often gay men estranged from their families, needed someone to look them in the eye as they died.

She used her family’s cemetery in Hot Springs, Arkansas, to bury over forty men with AIDS when funeral homes refused to handle the bodies and families wouldn’t claim them. She would often wrap the bodies herself, dig the graves with a friend or on her own, and offer a prayer. She marked their graves with simple bricks or PVC pipe crosses, making sure they had a place to rest that was tended, a place where someone remembered their names.

It wasn’t glamorous. She fought with funeral homes, doctors, and local politicians. She used her savings to buy medicine and groceries for men who had no one left to call, sitting with them while they took their last breaths. She navigated the fear that even medical staff felt around these men, sometimes having to bring them food herself in the hospital. She became family to men whose own parents would call her and demand she “let them die” alone. Instead, she stayed, holding their hands, reminding them they were not alone, that they were loved, even if it was by a stranger.

In a time when gay men were dying alone and being buried in garbage bags or cremated without ceremony, Ruth Coker Burks made sure they had a grave and a name. She became a mother figure, a sister, and a final comfort for so many men abandoned at the end, creating an island of dignity in a sea of fear and rejection. She offered what the world so often withheld from gay men during the AIDS crisis: care, respect, and the simple, holy act of being seen.

Ruth Coker Burks wrote a book titled “All The Young Men” about her experiences with these dying victims. It will be on my reading list.

Thanks to The AIDS Quilt page on Facebook for publishing this!