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When Ms. Elisha came off the stage at the Bourbon Street female impersonators' club and swished into her dressing room, Chas Angle was waiting for her. The meta hunk had worn a muscle shirt barely covering the superhuman bulges of his torso and a silky pair of shorts that barely held the bulge of his twelve thick inches. So, when he asked her if she'd come pose for him for photos, her quick answer was "Honey, you can take me anywhere you want and do anything you want to me." She would regret that comment.
They went straight out to the alley and Ms. Elisha hiked up behind Chas on his motorcycle, stiletto heels and all, and wrapped her arms around Chas and hugged him tight. By the time they reached the plantation house on the Mississippi, Ms. Elisha had fully examined every curve and hard muscle of Chas's torso under his muscle shirt and had determined for herself that everything in that bulging basket at his crotch was the real deal. She was purring when they stopped in front of the old mansion.
Chas had a room set up with still cameras pointing from different angles at a floodlit ivory chaise lounge backed by a white curtain. These cameras were set to automatically fire off photos at seven-second intervals. He had another handheld camera for close-up shots.
Ms. Elisha hadn't liked the idea that Chas wanted to photograph her as she was rather than the image she wanted to display, but she made only one demand in compensation as she stripped down to black silk net stockings, garter belt, and stiletto heels and wrapped herself in a red silk lounging robe.
"If I show it all, Dear Boy, you must as well. I want you to be nude for the photo session as well."
And then when Chas had stripped down, her response was. "Holy, Mother, Jesus, Joseph, Herod, and Pilate, you stud you. Is it legal to be as beautiful and big . . . everywhere . . . as you are? Love the rings in the ear, nipples, and navel, and, Oh my God, there too. Come to Momma, you horse-hung beauty, you. I gotta have me some of that, Baby."
"Photo shoot," Chas answered. "Concentrate, woman. You can keep the pout if you want, but drape yourself on the chaise, please. Back to me. Yes, like that. Robe off your shoulders and look back at me. Yes, just like that. A beautiful woman; soft shoulders, beautiful face, brunette hair flowing down your back."
Click, click went the cameras.
"Okay, same position, but let the robe all the way down to your waist. Beautiful rounded shoulders tapering down to that tiny waist, and glowing, golden tan skin. Right."
Click, click, click.
"Half turn around, now. Show that nice perky tit. Yes, that's nice. Now full around and lean back into the chaise. Arch your back to hme; give me a full frontal on those nice tits. Now, fingers to tits and work them. Luscious red nails against the glowing skin and big, pink taut nipples. Wonderful. Make love to the camera."
Click, click, click.
"I'd rather make love to you, Sweet Cakes," Ms. Elisha said, as she blew Chas a kiss. "You're making me all hot and bothered, Honey. Come over here and cool Ms. Elisha off, won't you?"
Chas just laughed. "Now, move your hands slowly down your torso and slit the robe so that we can see the nice long line of your legs in those silk stockings."
Click, click, click.
"Yes, that's nice. That's hot!"
"I sure can see that, Honeybun," Ms. Elisha purred. "Don't look now, but you are getting hard. I can take care of that. Although I may need help from the rest of the girls in the show, because I've never seen such a big and thick one."
"OK, now, slowly open the robe the other way. Show the cock."
"Sweetie, Ms. Elisha doesn't like to show Mr. Albert. He destroys the illusion."
"Depends on what impression you want to take. It was a deal. I stripped down, and you show it all."
"Oh, very well," and Ms. Elisha slowly uncovered "her" cock, although then "she" arched "her" back even more, trying to draw the attention of the camera back to the melon-sized breasts that had cost her so much effort and a small fortune to develop.
Chas started clicking away with his handheld camera, coming closer and closer to Ms. Elisha until he was straddling the chaise at the level of her hips and taking close-ups of her beautiful woman's face and those nice breasts.
Ms. Elisha writhed sensually below him. She reached up and took his huge cock in both of her hands. "Ooooh, uncut. And that divine gold ring in the foreskin. Wonderful." She slid the loose foreskin off and on the bulbous head of his cock, and his twelve-incher hardened up and went to thirteen inches as he clicked away with his camera. Some of his shots were straight down his flat belly to the hand job Ms. Elisha was giving him. But then she had those big ruby-red lips opening wide, and she slid the foreskin off the helmet of his cock and took the head in up to the rim and sucked and tongued him there.
Click, click, click.
Chas pulled the robe off her back and turned her over on her belly.
"Up on all fours, he said. Rest the side of your head on the top of the chaise and look into the camera over there. Show it how much you are enjoying this."
He widened the stance of her legs and gave her breasts a little pat, sending them shimmering as they hung down from Ms. Elisha's chest. Her dangling cock could also be seen by the camera. Chas pushed her butt cheeks apart and kissed and tongued her ass hole for a few minutes. She wiggled her butt and sighed and moaned for him.
Click, click, click.
He got out a tube of KY and lubricated her ass real well and then slicked down his own cock with the lubricant. Then he took up an eight-inch length of small beads and attached them to the ring in his cock.
Click, click, click.
"What's that, Sweetie?" she asked.
"Pearls. Every woman loves her pearls."
"Well, I don't . . . Oh, my Gawd!"
He had come up close behind her and entered her to the rim of his glans.
"Oh, you big, big, naughty boy," she moaned. "God, I've never had it this big. And that ring. I can feel that ring. Oh, I love this."
Chas worked his way in four inches. The cameras caught the shine of the ruby-red lipstick encircling his cock head and the beads as they disappeared into Ms. Elisha's ass. Ms. Elisha was writhing around, her tits and cock quavering.
"Ahhh. That ring and those beads," she moaned. "Nobody's given it to me this good." She rotated her butt in appreciation.
Click, click, click.
Eight inches in and Ms. Elisha was moaning and grunting. She had her knees off the chaise now and she was standing on the floor straddling the chaise, her stilettos digging into the carpet, and trying to get her ass canal as open as possible.
Ten inches, and Chas had stopped drilling to do some slow pumping at this depth. Ms. Elisha's tits were jiggling as her chest and belly heaved. He was still holding a good six inches in reserve, and he rotated his cock in her hole, dragging the golden ring and the string of beads around her ass canal walls. She was giving little yipping sounds. Her cock was standing at attention, and she was stroking herself off.
"Yes, yes. Fuck me deep. And, Honey, those beads are driving me crazy. I'm going to have an orgasm!" And she did.
Click, click, click.
Eleven inches and Ms. Elisha had adjusted. Her eyes were dreamy, swimming in Chas's precum, which had given her an energy boost. It had helped widen her ass canal and strengthened her to take him deep for some reason she couldn't understand, although she certainly could appreciate. She arched her back up and managed to swing an arm around his neck and bring his lips to hers. She was stroking her cock, which was hardening again. Chas cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs stroking her big nipples, as he kissed her deep, at last imbuing her with his toxic saliva. Her knees and arms buckled, as the venom numbed the connection between her brain and her limbs and she grew woozy.
Without losing purchase in her hole, Chas brought her down on the chaise, stretched across and in front of his body. His pelvis was cuddled under her buttocks. He had his left arm under her chest, with his hand still cupping and squeezing a breast and his right hand was lifting a long, lean mesh-stocking leg in the air and pointing the toes of her stiletto heels toward the corner of the ceiling.
Stroke, stroke, stroke. Side-split pumping her at the depth of twelve and thirteen inches. He was afraid to go any deeper, but then he was a fourteen inches and she seemed to be handling him OK. She was sighing and purring for him.
Click, click, click.
Chas pulled out and flipped her over on her back before he came all over her breasts. He slowly licked his cum off of her melons as she moaned her remote pleasure.
After that, Chas rose from the chaise, gathered the dozing body of Ms. Elisha up and walked out into the hall and mounted the stairs to the second floor. He entered the master bedroom, walked over to the bed and offered her to his former mentor, Philippe, for whom Chas had planned this whole evening.
He had bettered and mastered his lover, Philippe, who had made him the superhuman he was, but he had not destroyed Philippe. He hadn't been sure how that could have been done even if he had wanted to. He just wanted to be in control. He didn't want to be at Philippe's mercy. So, after he had overpowered Philippe during a feeding session on the New Orleans docks, he had brought him back to his own plantation home and imprisoned him here in his own bedroom. Philippe was chained to the wall in a way that gave him the run of the room and the neighboring bath, but that was all. And when Chas came near him, Philippe was locked into gloves that neutralized his slashing fingernails and a gag that neutralized his gashing teeth. Thus far Philippe had cooperated, because Chas kept him fed and entertained and Chas was the only lover Philippe could have. They constantly rejuvenated each other, and they were the only ones who could fuck each other at the depths of the cocks their rejuvenations could reach without killing each other.
And Chas needed Philippe too. Not only because Philippe could plow him deep and help keep him strong, young, and inhumanly hung, but also because he needed Philippe to sign the checks and the business orders that kept this empire afloat. And Chas enjoyed living here, with Philippe's wealth, and intended to continue to do so for centuries, if possible.
Philippe was naked when Chas entered the room. he was chained but free of his gloves and gag. He needed to feed. He had aged ten years since Chas had seen him earlier in the day. Chas had been busy setting up the arrangements, and they had not made love for a week. Neither had Philippe fed.
Chas had chosen Ms. Elisha for Philippe. She may be a she-male, but she was young and vibrant and in excellent condition. Chas draped Ms. Elisha across Philippe's lap and stepped back, watching.
Philippe looked up at Chas, the love showing in his eyes. The recognition that Chas did not intend to let him die. He looked down at the beautiful she-male, and turned her so that she was sitting in his lap, facing him. Her stockinged legs stretched out behind him on the bedcover. He let her torso drift down his legs; her long brunette hair laced out on the floor at his feet. She was drugged and woozy, but wasn't all that unaware of what was happening to her.
Philippe hand pumped her cock until it was stiff again and then put his hands under her butt cheeks and brought her pelvis up to his lips and swallowed her cock, working it with his mouth until Ms. Elisha shot off her load. Philippe licked off the last the cum, and then nuzzled his lips into where her right leg met her groin, felt for the throbbing vein there, and sank his teeth in and drank.
The combination of the sperm and blood was regenerating Philippe. His muscles were bulking up and tightening and his cock was hardening and lengthening. The years were melting off his body, and he once more was young and virile.
When the vein in the leg collapsed, Philippe pushed her pelvis down to where his hardening cock was at her ass hole, and he entered her. He had no trouble going straight to the twelve-inch depth, as Chas had just been there. Ms. Elisha barely stirred beneath him, although she was sighing in appreciation of being plowed deep once more.
Philippe raised her torso to him and sank his teeth into each of the large aureoles around the nipples on her melon breasts in turn, and fed on the blood there. His cock leapt to fourteen inches.
He lifted her neck to his mouth and sank his teeth into the carotid artery. He held her to him with one arm and used the fingernails of the other hand to slice into her chest and belly, bloodying up her torso and slathering his own torso with her blood. His cock jumped to sixteen inches deep. He was still holding a good four inches in reserve, not wanting to hurry the process.
At seventeen inches, Ms. Elisha's body shuddered and blood and body fluids began lathering Philippe's buried tool from deep inside her. He placed a hand on her tailbone and pushed her onto the reserve cock at his root, and he was at twenty-one inches buried when he ejaculated deep inside her, mingling his juices with hers in a sigh of satisfaction.
Chas walked over and pulled the body of the she-male off Philippe and gently laid her down in the hallway. He reentered the room and locked Philippe into his gloves and gag. Philippe didn't fight him while he did this. And then Chas tumbled Philippe back on the bed, and they rolled around, prodding and kneading, and stroking each other wildly. They fucked each other in turn at a depth of twenty-four inches or more, both loving it and having no trouble handling it, sharing their magic fluids that only made each other stronger and younger and more vital.
Philippe enjoyed the pearl beads too.
Years and then more than a decade went by with nothing much happening in Philippe LeCroix's rotting plantation house on the Mississippi beyond the dust accumulating and the oaken walls drying out and spitting. Chas Angle still held his mentor and tormentor in his bed chamber on the second floor of the mansion, shackled to his bed, and rejuvenating himself only when Chas brought him young men to feed on. And Chas did this as rarely as possible.
Chas wasn't Philippe. He didn't revel in the kill and the transferring of the essences of life. He didn't want to believe that the feeding, the transference of blood and other vital fluids, and the act of fucking a young man to death was necessary to keep him young and virile himself. He was sure that he could sustain himself now that Philippe had made him one of his own vicariously by fucking and feeding on Philippe after he himself had indulged by extracting a percentage of the essences that were keeping Philippe alive and fit.
Philippe had just laughed at this idea, though, and had told Chas he would learn otherwise that he'd have centuries to become accustomed to who and what he was. And slowly, as Chas felt himself getting older despite his parasitic leeching on the shackled Philippe, he came to realize that Philippe was right. He would only be able to live and maintain himself as Philippe had by killing and feeding periodically as Philippe had done.
But Chas continued to fight this reality. He exercised harder and became more healthy in his eating habits. But still, slowly, bit by bit, he was aging not as fast as he normally would have, certainly, but still he was aging. He could not maintain the perpetual balance. He started hiking to fight the aging. And each day he hiked out farther from the plantation house, and each day he came back a bit more fatigued, a bit more aware of what he had to do to sustain himself.
He knew he had to make a hard decision, and one day while out hiking, he bowed to the inevitable. He was walking in the woods on a farm well away from the waterfront when he heard moaning and groaning coming from a nearby field having been left fallow for this growing season. He came to the edge of the wood and peered out from around a tree and saw two young studs going at it in the bed of a truck with its tailgate down. A blond beauty who reminded Chas of himself at the height of his biking days before he was enthralled to Philippe was laying in the bed of the truck, facing away from the truck cab and his head lolling off the end of the tailgate. His well-muscled arms were stretched out straight from his body and his hands were gripping the sides of the lowered tailgate. His legs were open wide and his heels were laying on top of the opposite sides of the truck sides.
Chas would easily see the young man's handsome, square-featured face from where he was concealed. The blond youth was laughing and howling his pleasure from what a beefy black youth who was kneeling in the bed of the truck and crouched between his widespread thighs was feeding into his asshole. The two were obviously having a ball.
Both youths were easy on the eyes, and despite all of his efforts, those cravings that having been transformed by Philippe rose within him and gripped him by the throat so that he felt raw animal instincts taking over. He wouldn't fight it this time, Chas told himself. To survive he needed to become completely like Philippe. He needed to kill and feed without remorse, indeed with joy.
And here were two ripe for the taking. One to take home to Philippe and one for himself. The decision was hard, but it was one of survival.
A loud cry of passion from the blond marked the black youth's successful filling of him, and Chas's blood boiled as he watched them take their postcoital time. And he was to find it wasn't postcoital at all. The Blond turned on his back after they had stretched out together in the bed of the truck and made a complete trip around each other's bodies with lips and searching hands and the black youth entered him once more from the rear and slowly pumped the blond amidst a harmony of groans and moans and cries of desire.
This time, apparently satiated when he was done, the black youth rose out of the bed of the truck after they were finished, adjusted his jeans and plaid shirt, and sauntered off in the direction of the woods, toward the very trail that Chas had stepped off of to watch the lust taking.
The black youth made it no farther than ten steps into the tree line, when Chas was upon him, pushing his belly up against a large tree trunk and clapping his hand over the youth's mouth to stifle his surprised scream. Chas buried his teeth into a vein at the hollow of his prey's neck and filled him with numbing venom while taking a feeding of his blood.
The black youth fought him feebly and whimpered as Chas jerked down his jeans and entered him slowly with his monster cock, which had already grown to over twelve inches just from the anticipation of a full feeding. The young man's head arched back to Chas's shoulder from the tension of being so hugely invaded and his mouth opened in a silent scream, his breath and vocal capability having been taken away by the working of the venom in Chas's saliva on his body, when Chas's cock plowed him at great depth. Thirteen inches and then fourteen.
In a full feeding, Chas would have milked the black youth's cock at least twice before finishing him with a deep fuck, but his intent was only to immobilize this one. This one was for Philippe to milk of his essences. So, as soon as Chas felt all of the tension go out of his victim and the youth just flop to one side, held up only by being sandwiched between the tree and Chas's body and being held up only by Chas's deep-skewering cock, Chas just let the young man's body fall off his tool and onto the ground beneath the tree.
He wouldn't be recovering for some time. Chas had plenty of time to feed himself and be back to take this one to Philippe.
Chas stripped off his hiking shorts and T and strode out into the field, just in his boots and socks, his magnificent monster cock swinging like the clapper of a bell between his legs.
The young blond had only now come out of the bed of the truck and was pulling on his jeans. He turned and saw the now rejuvenated and monster-membered Chas striding toward him in all his glory.
And the young man just laughed. He gave Chas a big grin of welcome as if he had seen a superendowed naked man coming out of the forest toward him every day of the week. He just stood there and opened his arms as Chas reached him, and the two melted into a deep, searching kiss a kiss in which Chas lost no time in transferring the intoxicating and drugging toxins in his saliva.
Drugged, the young blond let his beautifully proportioned torso just fall back onto the bed of the truck. He already had his hands wrapped around Chas's huge cock and was making astonished clucking sounds at what he found there. Chas brought his chest down on that of the young man and buried his teeth into the side of the stud's neck and fed quietly while the blond moaned and sighed his misty pleasure and welcome.
When that vein collapsed, Chas moved his lips and teeth to the young blond's nipples and pierced and fed on the large, dark aureoles surrounding those, making soft slurping sounds as he sucked there.
With feeble movements, the young man guided Chas's cock to his hole and helped Chas slowly enter him. The young man was groaning and weakly encouraging Chas to fuck him deeply. And he was laughing in quiet tones and murmuring to himself about the ultimate fuck he was receiving and how deep Chas was mining as Chas pushed into his channel. Fourteen, fifteen inches. And still the youth was staying with him.
Chas looked into his eyes. This was he himself, just as he was when he was being taken by Philippe. The horror of what Chas was doing the process of taking another life to rejuvenate himself was starting to push its way to the surface, fighting with the primeval feeding and taking urges that Philippe's choice for him had forced on him. He couldn't help it. He wasn't Philippe. This wasn't the decision he could make.
Chas felt himself going soft and he sensed the confusion and rising of disappointment in the blond youth writhing under him wanting the ultimate fuck but having no appreciation the cost of receiving that.
With all the strength he could muster, Chas flung himself from the embrace of the blond youth and from the bed of the trunk and ran back to the edge of the forest. He swept up his clothes with nary a look at the semiconscious black youth who had been meant for Philippe's feeding and ran for more than a mile into the woods before being able to trust himself to stop and put his shorts and T back on.
There would be no feeding for Philippe that night. And Philippe was, as Chas knew he would be, beside himself with hunger and frustration that Chas had not brought him a young man to feed on. But what Philippe didn't know was that there would be no further feeding, not unless Chas could overcome this sense of fair play and remorse at what he had been transformed into.
Three days later, consumed by a grief that surprised and concerned him, Chas found himself lingering a few steps away from the assembled group of mourners at a burial at dusk in New Orlean's St. Louis #3 cemetery of a lover of his from his earlier life. Jake had been his bike mate in the biker's club Chas had ridden with before Philippe possessed him. They had been inseparable and had been enthusiastic lovers. After Chas had disappeared into Philippe's world, Jake had left the biker club, had married, and had developed a highly successful automobile dealership from an initial startup of a bike repair shop. Then, old, fat, and overindulged, he had died of a hardened-arteries-induced heart attack.
Chas recognized many of the men who attended the funeral; he had ridden with them alongside Jake in that earlier life, so many worlds ago. But they didn't recognize him and would not have even if he had stepped into the grouping around the grave site. They were all well into their fifties, and Chas had aged, certainly, but not farther then into his early thirties yet. He was still basically the same young, beefy blond stud he'd been back then. They were all well into the middle ages now.
Chas ached in his mourning for his lost lover and his loins took a lurch when the mourners began to disperse and pulled away from a young man persistent in remaining standing at the grave. Jake's son. There was no doubt that it was Jake's son. A handsome, olive-skinned, dark-haired, lithe youth of delicate facial features and almost a dancing quality of movement.
Chas stood, transfixed. And the buzzing in his ears from the long delay in his necessary feeding began to turn into voices inside his head telling him that this wasn't Jake's son at all it was Jake himself. Here to reunite with his long-lost lover. Waiting on Chas; wanting to be taken by Chas as he had been so many times before. Open to his lover.
Everyone but the two of them were gone now. It was growing dark and mist was coming in from the river and filtering through the silent cemetery. The voices were winning. Chas approached the young Jake and turned him around so that they were facing each other. The voices were right. This was the face of the youthful Jake, and his expression was one of surprise, certainly, but Chas could see the unmistakable signs of recognition and welcome. The voices buzzing in his head were assuring Chas that Jake knew who he was and what he had come for and that Jake wanted this as much as Chas did.
Chas lowered his lips to Jake's and took him with a deep kiss, swabbing his mouth cavity with that intoxicating and numbing toxin of his. Jake seemed to be struggling with him, trying to push him away, but that had always been Jake's game. They had liked to play games of captivity and overpowering in their love making. This was just like old times. This truly was Jake.
Chas sank his teeth into Jake's neck and fed, and Jake increasingly accepted Chas's love making, letting Chas take him to the ground and cover his body closely.
Chas frantically adjusted both his and Jake's clothing and took familiar possession of his lover's ass passage with his searching cock. Deeper and deeper he went into his lover, who was moaning and groaning his passion and love for what was happening to him. Jake was weakly bucking against Chas, as always writhing in that sexy reluctance of being taken way he had to inflame his insistent lover and to urge him to fuck him more vigorously and deeper. Chas followed the old game. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen thick inches, drawing out with a sucking sound and then ramming home inside his lover, going deeper with each stroke, each stroke met with a groan of passion and desire from his lover.
And Chas Chas the convert of Philippe was also feeding on his Jake. He left off fucking him twice to lower his lips to his lover's cock and to milk his essences. And he also took time out from stroking his cock in and out of his lover to seek out and feed on veins.
When Chas came at last some two feet up into his lover's gut, he lowered his lips to Jake's for a kiss of ultimate merger, but Jake didn't return the pressure. His lips were slack, and when Chas looked into his lover's eyes, all he saw were the whites the pupils had rolled back into his head as he had breathed his last, sometime earlier in Chas's frenzied love making.
With a flood of recognition, Chas realized what he had done. He no longer was possessed by the buzzing in his ears. He had fed his full now just as he was supposed to and thus he once more was totally rejuvenated. But the clearing of his mind only helped the reality of where he was and what he had done flow into him.
This wasn't Jake broken and drained lying in his embrace. This was Jake's son. Dead. What had Chas done? His affliction had caused him to take the life of his own lover's son.
The horror of what he had done, of what he would have to do to lead the life that Philippe had forced on him was overwhelming. With a cry of anguish, Chas rose and ran into the mists swirling around the grounds of the cemetery, leaving the broken and drained body of his best friend lying across the newly dug grave of the young man's father.
Chas found his bike and raced back to the plantation house. He ran up the stairs, full of hatred and self-loathing, prepared to vent all of his anger on the man who had brought him to this point.
But all he found was a whimpering old man, a Philippe who had not fed in many days and who was slowly decaying back into nothingness.
Philippe held out his shackled arms in despair and entreaty to his protg, begging him for relief and affection. And Chas took Philippe into his arms and made tender love to him, bringing a spark of life into the ancient one by transferring some of the vitality and youthful essences that he had just stolen from Jake's son.
But in those tender moments of merging their body into a deep fuck with magnificent cocks, revived by the essence of stolen youth, Chas came to another hard decision. When he had filled Philippe with the flow of his manhood, he left him there, sighing and growing younger and stronger, and moved down the stairs for the last time.
He would leave the imprisoning plantation house now and the possessive arms and influence of Philippe and prove to Philippe and to himself that he could reject Philippe's way. He would gladly become fully human again and age naturally and grow old and die at a natural rate. He would fight the urges of perpetual youth and the taking of life and its essences that this demanded. And he would just walk away from this house and let Philippe die naturally too, shackled in his bedroom, no one to hear his cries or to save him.
Chas stopped briefly at a window in the music room and lit up a cigarette, trying to gain courage to follow up his hard decision with action. A gust of wind caught the curtain at the window and the flaring match touched on the dry, rotting, silk. In an instant, flames were running up the wooden paneling of the wall.
There was a brief moment when Chas could have done something about the fire, but in the same instant it dawned on him that this was a much more humane death for Philippe than slowly rotting away from lack of feeding.
And, so, Chas just walked out of the house to where the grand oaks started at the base of the driveway and turned. The house was fully engulfed in flames. Who would have known that it would flare up so quickly? Despite the roaring of the fire, Chas could hear the plaintive cries of Philippe. His mentor was calling for him; begging him to come.
Who knows whether Philippe was working his magic on Chas one last time, if Chas had last-second thoughts of saving Philippe, or if Chas realized that he was much too weak to will himself to grow old and die when eternal youth was within his power? But something made him make that last hard decision, the hardest decision of all.
After the idiotic gesture of dropping his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out with the heel of his boot, Chas strode back into the house and mounted the flaming staircase. He entered Philippe's bedroom, and the two clung to each other as their world was consumed and evaporated in purifying flames.
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