LeCroix 13: Hard Decisions

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.