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Life Like Written by Leo_Todrius Commissioned by Vampireboy

The first days of school always had an interesting, intangible quality to them. The streets seemed cleaner than they should be, the city quieter than it should have been and the air... Smelling the dew kissed ground before anyone else awoke, there was something that almost made it worth while to be up that early... For Jonathan, that experience always had been coupled with new shoes for the school year and this year was no exception... but this was his last new school year, the last time he'd have this experience. The eighteen year old was just glad he could share it with Malcolm.

The two moved down the street, bathed in the pinkish blue glow of sunrise. Jonathan had hair the color of straw, half hidden beneath a teal, black and blue Dakine beanie hat. He had a similar teal t-shirt on, though he'd put on a hoodie just long enough to get to school. His blue jeans were form fitting, showing off his tight ass and his hips, but most impressively of all were Jon's shoes. They were white high cut basketball shoes, perfectly pristine and perfectly new. The tread was untouched by cement until today. Even the tread was white, though there was a single pale orange stripe between the heel and the rest of the shoe, and the orange of a basketball shaped pump in the tongue of the shoes.

Malcolm had a bit of a different look to him. His brown hair was a little shaggier and he had on black frame glasses, showing off his hazel eyes. Two small gold earrings hung from his ears and he had on a red and black striped t-shirt, a black vest over that, and black jeans. It was a perfect combination with the black motocross boots he refused to take off. They slipped up around his ankles, looking tough with their extra straps and panels... It wasn't uncommon for the boys to have good shoes, they'd been known for years as 'the foot clan' because of it... and in fact their love of shoes had contributed to how they met.

In their middle school years, all the cool kids had been expected to wear the same things. It was common world over, but the look that particular era had been for brightly colored skate shoes, worn out jeans, and holy t-shirts. It had particularly irritated the school staff to have their students look so shabby, and Jonathan had no particular interest in looking so run down. He loved having new clothes, and his collection of shoes was unparalleled. Honestly, that should have been the first clue that he was gay.

Jonathan had made his own path, dressing exactly as he wanted to. The other kids had tried to make fun of him, though their insults of 'pretty boy' and 'prissy' hadn't had much sting since Jonathan felt generally superior to the hordes of grungy masses. So, in a protracted effort to be cruel, they had stolen his shoes. Their cruelty finally fit home. Jonathan was inconsolable, heart broken, wandering the school in his fresh white cotton socks until they had picked up the dirt from the school carpets... and then he had met Malcolm.

Malcolm had escaped the wrath of the others by wearing grungy shirts and pants, but he had never given up his shoes. Each day was something different. He wore army boots, combat boots, police boots, motocross boots. His collection was as wide and varied as Jonathan's. While not his particular style, Malcolm had loaned the shoeless boy one of the extra pairs he had in his locker. They had been friends ever since.

The grungy fad came to an end as the boys entered high school. A generation of students started trying to look trendy and hip, but they didn't have half the experience Jonathan and Malcolm did. Suddenly the boys were fashion icons. The reviled had become popular, but they didn't let it go to their heads. They stuck together as inseparable friends, especially once Jonathan found out Malcolm was gay too. They had never really acted on it, but it gave them a lot in common... especially enjoying all the shirtless scenes in their favorite MTV werewolf show.

Perhaps it was that reflection that made a pang in Jonathan's heart ache as he realized that their time together could be coming to an end... They would take their final tests, apply for college and hope for the best. Jonathan hated it. He wanted to stay young forever, to never leave that feeling of being protected, of having no responsibility but learning what the world was about. He glanced over at his friend and smiled a bit, glad that they had this much at least... and that neither of them had become addicted to their phones. It made it far easier to talk to each other - but as Jonathan looked over, he was perplexed by the fact that Malcolm was looking almost confused. Jonathan followed his friend's gaze, spotting a dapper looking teen ahead of them.

"Good morning gentlemen..." came the call of the young man. He was dressed in a fine black suit with a white undershirt and black tie, his black hair slicked back. He had a perfectly well groomed hipster mustache, the edges waxed and curled just a bit. He looked like someone from the nineteen hundreds, and the reason became clear... he was standing in front of a brand new wax museum that had opened sometime in the last week.

"Morning." Malcolm said.

"Might I interest you two in a tour of our fine establishment? The life like quality of our statues is bound to entrance, amaze, enchant and ensnare... your senses." The young man said, a playful grin on his lips and a sparkle in his green eyes.

"How can statues be life like?" Jonathan asked.

"In this digital age, the art of wax sculpting has almost been forgotten... but there's something truly amazing by what wax can capture... Some called the work of Marie Tussaud eerie, but that was because her statues weren't quite human enough. The works of the great Hanneman are nothing short of breath taking. It's like stepping into another world..." The man said, quite pleased with his pitch.

"You do know we're on the way to school, right? Can't exactly be late..." Malcolm said. He'd always been the direct one.

"-Cause we would want to see everything, and not like... short change your museum." Jonathan added, trying to soften the blow.

"Then perhaps an arrangement can be made." The dapper young man said, pulling out two red and gold tickets form his pocket, "A special, private, VIP tour tonight at midnight. You can see everything, maybe tell your friends... get the word out." he offered. Malcolm started edging away, but Jonathan reached out and snatched the tickets.

"We'll do it! See you tonight." Jonathan grinned before he bounded down the street. Malcolm moved to catch up to him, rolling his eyes.

"Why did you tell him that?" Malcolm whispered.

"We can always change our minds... But we have the tickets now, so if we want to go we can. Plus he'd be so sad if we didn't at least say yes... I mean he's out here at six in the morning trying to drum up business." Jonathan said. Malcolm glanced back over his shoulder, looking at the teen outside the shop.

"Why would anyone be up this early if they don't have to go to school?" Malcolm groaned. Jonathan smirked at that, continuing their walk to school.

****

The school day had come and gone, the afternoon had passed and evening had set. Jonathan and Malcolm had done their homework, gotten ready for bed... and promptly snuck out of their rooms. They had done such things on rare occasion before, though it felt a little strange to be doing it at eighteen years old. Still, it was midnight on a school night and the two no longer had to worry about a city curfew for young men. Jonathan rounded the corner, finding it harder to navigate in the dark. He glanced around, still feeling a bit worried about everything. If Malcolm didn't show up, he wasn't sure what he'd do, but as he rounded the corner and saw Malcolm's dirt bike he felt reassured. Malcolm had gotten to the wax museum first and was still wearing his motocross boots and gloves, his jacket unzipped a bit. Malcolm looked up at the movement and smiled, relieved that Jonathan hadn't been caught or chickened out.

"You ready dude?" Malcolm asked.

"You bet I am." Jonathan grinned. Malcolm still couldn't believe that his friend had talked him into it, but there was something thrilling about it all. With the bike turned off and the keys securely in his pocket, Malcolm and Jonathan moved for the shop. As they approached, they started to realize just how busy the place was. Big ball lights flashed on the outside, a buzzing neon sign advertised the contents. It was amazing that they hadn't noticed it before.

Malcolm reached out and opened the door with his gloved hand, holding it for Jonathan. Jonathan grinned and moved in, feeling the cool air wash over him. He hadn't realized that it was still a bit warm outside until he felt the air conditioning, but it made sense with the wax sculptures. Malcolm followed Jonathan in and smiled as he saw the young man from before.

"So, this is the VIP show?" he asked, but the man didn't move... at least not as Malcolm expected. The platform the mustached teen was on began rotating, the figure completely stiff, but as it turned another version appeared... and this young man was in fact living.

"I welcome you, brave souls, to the amazing and curious labyrinth of Hanneman the great. The adventure before you is a dangerous one, but should you resist temptation and curiosity, you shall surely be rewarded... But be careful, do not trust your senses, and most importantly of all... stay on the path." The apprentice said with a grin before smoke gushed up from the platform. When it cleared, the young man was gone, leaving only his wax double.

"Dude, that is so cool..." Jonathan whispered.

"It's a pretty good trick, but is this a haunted house, magic show or wax museum?" Malcolm asked.

"Well, maybe it can be all three. People stopped visiting wax museums as much, but this is bringing them back along with that campy sort of carnival presentation. It's like a lost art form." Jonathan explained as the two moved toward the doors out of the foyer and into the exhibits. Near the door there was a bowl of candy and food. Malcolm reached out and took some, putting them in the pockets of his jacket before looking at Jonathan.

"Aren't you going to take any? This is the VIP tour after all." Malcolm said. Jonathan shrugged.

"I'm still full from dinner." he admitted.

"Well, never hurts to be prepared." Malcolm smirked. Jonathan nodded at that and the two advanced forward. The doors led out onto a meandering hall. The carpet was a rich velvety red and red velvet ropes cordoned off the displays on either side. The two young men advanced, feeling almost as if they were traveling back in time, walking past numerous notable presidents from Obama and Bush back to Nixon, Lincoln, and eventually Washington. The presidents peered out lifelessly from either side, looking as if they had been frozen in time. Every pore, every wrinkle had been perfectly depicted. As well done as the figures were, Malcolm and Jonathan were a bit let down by the mundane topic. They had enough history at school.

"One often wonders about the past... Something we weren't there to witness, but taken as fact. Where does one draw the line? Where does history end and fantasy begin?" The apprentice's voice echoed from all around. Malcolm quirked a half smile at that, glad he hadn't given up his hosting duties. The two continued through an archway, the figures transitioning from American presidents to leaders of the world through the ages. Margaret Thatcher stood next to Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, Napoleon and others.

"Idols of the past, given such status... but in any age we put the best of us on pedastals, dreaming of their glory... until the point where reality and fantasy blur." The apprentice added. The next archway revealed celebrities dressed up as television and movie characters, ranging from Lucile Ball to William Shatner to Tom Hanks. The costumes were amazingly made, well crafted with every stitch and every detail perfectly in place.

"Not bad, way better than the stuff I see on T.V. when they make one of these." Jonathan said, continuing on up ahead.

"Well, he did say Hanneman was the best." Malcolm said.

"When we invest ourselves so much in fantasy and dreams, do we run the risk of those dreams becoming nightmares? Do we like to play in the dark, in the twilight? Do we entertain magic even when we shouldn't? And just what lurks in the dark?" The apprentice asked.

"Dude, monsters!" Jonathan gaped with excitement, running up ahead.

"Jon, don't rush stuff, it'll be over too fast!" Malcolm said, not following his friend. His eyes darted around, taking everything in. The hall of dreams and fantasies was the most amazing yet. There had been more effort in the backgrounds around the characters. There was a purple skinned genie that, despite being made of wax, seemed to have a vaporous quality to him as he stood before a backdrop of tent material. Next to him was a strong and powerful demon in front of a shiny red and black 'stone' wall and a video game villain given physical form, surrounded by the dripping molten metal of an alien infested space ship... but of all the amazing creations, Malcolm found his attention drawn to the wax figure of a man in his late twenties. His dark brown, almost black hair was curly and matted. He had on hand crafted leather, a jacket stitched out of deer hide, tan pants... and the most amazing pair of boots Malcolm had ever seen in his life.

The familiar pang of shoe lust began to flutter in Malcolm's heart. He approached the seemingly out of place wax figure, looking at him and his forest surroundings more closely. He was doubled over, almost as if in pain, but his legs were wide and the stance he had was balanced on two large feet encased in hand made leather boots. They sloped up around his ankles and went almost all the way up to his knees. Leather strapping wrapped them, moving through eyelets. It really seemed like the ancestor to his motocross boots.

Malcolm leaned against the red velvet rope that cordoned off the section, trying to peer ever closer at the boot's quality, but as he leaned over he felt a shifting in his pocket. He saw the glint of light as his dirt bike's key fell out, dropping to the ground inside the display. It skittered along the dried leaves and fake snow that surrounded the forest dweller and the trees. Malcolm grunted gently, glancing back up. Jonathan was down the path a ways still. Malcolm remembered that the museum apprentice had told them to stay on the path, but the key was too far in to reach just by crouching.

With careful balance, Malcolm stepped over the red velvet line with one leg, treading carefully on the fake backdrop before his other leg came up over as well. As the second foot came down on the wrong side of the display, the dried leaves softened, the snow shifted beneath his weight and a cool breeze blew across his shoulders. Malcolm froze, looking around. The museum was gone, the walls were gone. Everything was gone but the three trees around him. He had stepped into the display, but even the villager was gone. He was simply in a forest.

"Jonathan?!" Malcolm called out, "This isn't funny..." he added. There was no response but the biting chill of a winter's night. Malcolm looked around to try and find his key, but even that was gone. Malcolm ran around the area, spiraling outward, trying to find a way back to the museum but every broken twig, every spider web, every breeze told him that this was real. His heart filled with panic and the cold was seeping into his cheeks.

Malcolm whimpered as he started off in a random direction, trying to find anything that might explain what had happened. People didn't just step through space like that. It had to be an illusion, a trick... but that faith didn't last. Malcolm wandered for two minutes, then ten, then fifteen. The ache forming in his feet and legs reminded him that it was all real. Malcolm started to wonder if he'd been drugged, gassed or injected, that he'd been kidnapped and dropped in the woods. Even that didn't make sense. The teenager was spinning wild stories now, trying to make sense of an impossible situation before he froze to death... but just as he contemplated the elements, the scent of burning wood met his nose.

The eighteen year old continued on, garbed in his black motocross gear. He followed the scent as it grew stronger and stronger, assuming that burning wood would either be a sign of civilization or a forest fire. In either case, he had to know to himself. After yet more minutes of wandering, he found he source of the smoke. There was a cottage up ahead, the windows milky with frost, smoke billowing from the chimney into the cold night air. Like a moth to the flame, Malcolm approached the cottage, his boots crunching in the snow.

By the time he reached the door, he was frozen to the bone. He lifted his hand and knocked on the wood. Malcolm could hear a scuffle from inside before the door opened a mere crack, candlelight spilling out. Hazel eyes surveyed the teenager curiously, dark brown, almost black hair falling across his face.

"What do you want?" Came a deep and silky voice.

"It's... so cold out here, please... I don't know how I got here. I need to find a way back. Can I just come in for a moment? Maybe use your phone?" Malcolm asked.

"My what?" The man questioned before his eyes darted up, scanning the forest beyond. Before Malcolm could repeat himself he sighed and opened the door wider, "You better come in." he said. Malcolm eagerly stepped through the threshold and into the house, but it felt as if he'd fallen through time. The furniture was hand carved out of wood. The cloth all seemed hand made. There were cast iron pots and pans, parchment paper. It seemed very colonial era in general... and then it hit Malcolm.

The teenager turned to look at the man that had saved him. Sure enough, he'd seen him before - in the museum. Standing before him was the man covered in deer hide leather shirts and pants with the home made boots covered in thick straps. His hair was wild and unkempt, his jaw line rugged. It was almost ironic that Malcolm wasn't half as shocked as the man was at seeing such unusual clothes. A hand moved out, brushing Malcolm's motocross jacket, fingers tracing the materials.

"What kind of animals did you use for this?" he asked.

"Uh..." Malcolm hesitated. While it was clear he had stepped into the display and become part of it, he didn't know if he was actually back in time or inhabiting some sort of fantasy world. Revealing details of the future could be very dangerous. Still, he didn't want to seem rude, "Black angus cow... and some plant materials for the rubber, like... sap from some trees and stuff." Malcolm said.

"The craftsmanship is amazing. Did you make it yourself?" he asked.

"No, I... it was a gift." Malcolm said. He'd bought it himself, but it might have been hard for someone his age to afford such things wherever he was now.

"A shame. I would have loved to learn your skill, perhaps if I knew how to craft such beauty, people would..." the man trailed off, his eyes closing for a moment. He took deeper breaths.

"Are you alright?" Malcolm asked softly.

"It's just... not the best time for visitors, I..." the man took several more breaths, "Perhaps you should take some food and a warm coat and leave, it would... It's been so long since I had visitors, I-" Every thought and every sentence that left the man's mouth wound up interrupted. Malcolm was about to make another attempt to inquire further, but his eyes were drawn to the villager's mouth.

Saliva had started to leak out from the corners of his lips, his lips were getting puffier and sticking out... and the teeth in his mouth were growing longer. The man doubled over, breathing hard, panting through his mouth as his matted, curly hair fell around his head like a mane. Malcolm finally realized where he had been in the museum, the hall of monsters. He'd seen demons and satyrs and the one out of place man in the midst of it all, but the only reason he seemed out of place was that he hadn't yet transformed.

The villager's hand sewn leather shirt grew tight as his body grew. The man brought his hand up, his fingers working at the ties but as his fingernails pushed out and sharpened into claws, they cut through the fabric easily. The jacket parted to reveal a broad, muscled, sweaty man chest. His nipples were reddening but his muscles were visibly bulging out. He pulled at his shirt, barely getting it off his shoulders as the bones and joints cracked, his ribs parting and swelling. The shirt was cast aside, but the torso revealed wasn't entirely human anymore.

Bones pushed out from his spine, his torso seemed longer, his stomach shrank and his lung capacity increased. Folds and rounds of muscle expanded from his arms as they stretched longer. The man panted sharply before his hazel eyes closed and bright, gleaming yellow eyes opened instead. Soft black fur began pushing out of his cheeks, descending in front of his ears before following his jaw line. His amazing hand made boots began to creak and warp, but even as his feet grew inside them, the boots remained unphased. The straps that Malcolm had so admired seemed to allow them to grow and shrink without the boot being torn asunder. The hand made pants shifted next as a black tail began to wriggle and push out, shaking above his ass. He looked like a wolf man already, but there were no signs of anything stopping.

Malcolm knew he should have been afraid, should have run away, should have hid or pleaded... Every natural, healthy response ran through his head but he didn't flee and he didn't prepare to fight. He was witness to an actual werewolf transformation and, for the strangest reason, that turned him on. Malcolm's nipples firmed and his cock swelled in his pants, pushing out at a fast rate. He was breathing harder just watching it until his cock had tented his pants so bad that he had to relieve the pressure.

There was the faint sound of a zip, fingers pushing fabric out of the way and the slap of Malcolm's hand against his own meat. He began to masturbate right there in the house, watching the man change, not caring one bit how inappropriate it was or the fact that the beast could just kill him right there. Malcolm moaned, watching through his thick framed glasses, his cock pulsing with vitality, but the werewolf's veins were pulsing even more.

Bones cracked, muscles shifted and ligaments adjusted. The man's face pushed outward as the fur spread across it, hiding his human flesh. His jaw extended, his ears migrated up to the top of his head and his body hair grew thick, black and soft. It covered his arms and legs and soon the rest of his body. The wolf adjusted his stance as his feet grew and his nose upturned, the wet black nostrils sniffing the air. Yellow eyes turned, seeing the innocent teenager jerking off next to him.

Normally the werewolf would have taken great glee in mauling an innocent so helpless and so close to his personal space, but like Malcolm, something else triggered besides the natural response. A black paw moved out and tangled in Malcolm's medium length hair before he was pulled forward. Caught off guard, Malcolm fell to his knees and his face hit the wet crotch of the werewolf. The werewolf used his other paw to cut into his pants and a red pointed canine phallus began to emerge from the sheath inside.

Malcolm couldn't have pulled back even if he wanted to, but it was already too late. His lips were pried apart by the invading red meat. Malcolm had sucked cock before, but never one that was so animal. The taste was rich and salty, even a bit peaty, but he began to obediently suck and slurp, his hand working on his own cock. The werewolf began to thrust forward and back into the human's mouth, tipping his head back, grunting and growling.

With each suck, Malcolm felt more relaxed. So to,, apparently, did the wolf. With a few more thrusts, the red hot canine cock began to unleash a steady flow of precum. It filled Malcolm's mouth before he swallowed but he began to gulp it down, feeling it coat his throat and stomach, filling him up gradually. With such a strong donation of wolf essence, the changes began to spread through his body.

The teeth grazing the canine cock grew sharper. Malcolm's pierced ears became pointed and his smooth cheeks darkened as fur burst out, covering the flesh at a fairly quick pace. The werewolf growled happily, watching Malcolm embrace the change. The teenager's hair began growing longer, his pointed ears began sliding up his head as brownish black fur grew out across the backs, and his motocross jacket began to grow tight.

Malcolm could feel the change awakening inside him, and it was glorious. Everything tasted stronger, smelled stronger. He felt every bit of fatigue and worry go away. His jacket button popped, then another did. The zipper began to slowly work itself down across his chest as it appeared. Unlike the stranger, Malcolm had a very faint dusting of hair that was developing into fur quickly, far faster than his coat could come in were other changes.

While sucking the werewolf off, Malcolm hadn't stopped on his own rod. It throbbed and grew hotter, producing its own moisture as it grew wet and stiff,. The shaft extended outward bit by bit. The mushroom shaped head honed to a point, the base began to swell and the flesh beyond even began pooling up and developing a sheath.

Malcolm had never felt so right or so amazing in all his life. He sucked with all his might and it seemed like somehow he was making progress. The reason for the progress became clear as his lips buried into the werewolf's groin. His face was stretching out longer. Bones popped and his jaw grew, filled with wolf fangs. His nose upturned and his nostrils flared, the flesh at the tip turning black and wet. He sniffed the air even as the rest of his face adjusted.

Malcolm felt like he was in a fantasy land or some gay porno, but it was better than all of that. The werewolf wasn't killing him. It had chosen to mate and now he was as strong and virile and capable as the beast. He could hear his alpha's heart beat, his breathing, his tail swishing. He could take it all in.

The two kept going at it, but Malcolm was almost unrecognizable. His clothing had not had as much give as the villager's. His jacket was slinking off and his pants were tearing across the thighs. Bit by bit Malcolm's clothing failed... all the way down to his motocross boots, but there the changes held little sway. His toes grew, his feet changed, but the boots remained. Malcolm's canine cock pulsed and began to leak tainted pre as he gulped down more of his master's seed. It felt like heaven, like he'd finally found paradise... and then that paradise was interrupted.

The door swung open as two twenty year olds entered. Each was blond, six foot two inches in height and looked identical. They were twins, armed with a twin set of cross bows. It seemed they were hunters of a rare and specific breed.

"Where is the human you took in Advis? We know he..." The twins stopped, looking at Malcolm, the smaller werewolf in the room. The alpha wolf made eye contact with Malcolm, the yellow eyes teen gazing up with a cock full of mouth. He knew his instructions.

Without warning, the two pulled back from each other. Cross bow bolts whistled through the air but missed them both. Advis knocked over a table, landing on all fours before bounding off a wall, knocking one of the twins to the ground. The hunger rolled, trying to escape. Malcolm, however, used the moment of brotherly concern to pushed the other twin against the overturned table.

Claws slashed through pants, bare ass was revealed and Malcolm put his new wolf cock to use. The red meat sunk in deep. The hunter howled out in shock and shame, but he quivered as the wolf pulled half way back and slammed in again. The thrill of taking a human, of the right, of the hunt, it filled Malcolm with such adrenaline that the base of his cock began to swell, rounding and bloating. The hunter tried to pull off, but he couldn't. It was as if they were tied together... by a knot of flesh at the base of Malcolm's cock.

Having successfully knotted a mate, Malcolm's juvenile exuberance brought him right over the edge. His furry black balls tugged up, his cock pulsed and the tainted seed pumped into the trapped twin. The twin howled out in shock, his fangs pushing in as he did, his ears going pointed and his eyes turning yellow. His short blond hair began sprouting out down his neck and across his cheeks. Bones crunched and popped in sickening detail. Malcolm reached around, a paw stroking the hunter's arm. The cross bow fell to the ground and they held hands as the blonds' hand gained claws and paw pads. He panted hard, a wet spot forming in his own pants. The rage against the beast had been replaced with the pleasure of being the beast.

The hunter's changing eyes gazed past his own extending face, spotting where his brother had fallen near by. The villager that had seemed so sickly was a true wolf, his huge canine phallus sliding in and out of violated hunter ass... an ass that now had a blond tail swinging back and forth above it. The other twin's ears pushed into points and he drooled on the floor, struggling a bit, though to no effect as he changed. Malcolm could tell somehow the brothers were glad that if they had been defeated, at least they were still together, but Malcolm was focused on something far more ego building. He'd only been a wolf for a few minutes and already his pack was growing. Life was amazing.

****

Jonathan had continued on ahead through the museum, too absorbed in the displays to notice Malcolm had fallen far behind. Jonathan was amazed by the sci-fi characters, the horror monsters, the cruel and evil beasts... but his eyes slowed as they came across something that seemed out of place to his own eyes. Set up in a mock restaurant style booth were two young men right around his own age, almost looking as if they were cuddling. One had dark ginger colored hair and freckles, his eyes closed. The other was blond but incredibly pale, nuzzling the first young man's neck... with his mouth parted.

It hadn't been apparent until Jonathan stepped to the side, but it wasn't a loving nuzzle. It was clear from the side that the second youth was going in for something else entirely - a bite. Vampire fangs were poised to pierce the wax flesh of his victim, the neck before the teeth so well sculpted, so untouched. Jonathan felt a pang of excitement move through him, but also a wave of depression. He thought about school coming to an end, the good times fading away into uncertainty. All the pent of concerns he had been trying to escape were flooding back.

"You two don't have any idea how lucky you are. You don't have to get older... and you'll be together for the rest of your life... however long that is." Jonathan whispered, "Why can't I have a life like that?" Jonathan whispered. As he sighed, a breeze picked up and the velvet rope began to wobble before the clip slid out of place. The velvet rope barrier went slack and fell to the floor, leaving a way in. Feeling almost as if it was a divine sign, Jonathan took a step forward. As his foot came down, it was no longer on carpet but hard floor.

The air jumped several degrees. It was hot and muggy and pulsing with the bass from the music. Lights danced across the dance floor, filtering through the dozens of people squeezed into the place. Jonathan stood stock still, shocked by what had happened but only for a moment. Over in the corner he saw the blond and the ginger nuzzling just as they had in the wax museum. Jonathan turned and looked at the door, but bouncers stood by to only admit the cutest boys.

A grin crossed Jonathan's lips. He wasn't sure how it was possible, or even what had happened, but he wasn't going to take it for granted. He'd come there because the universe had something in mind for him... and the vampire had to be at the center of it. Jonathan started to cross the club but got distracted. Every guy there was so handsome, so fit, so trim and so well dressed. They were in every style of clothing, but they all had brand new sneakers and socks, everything perfectly chosen. Before he had even made it to the vampire's table, Jonathan got an erection just from all the shoes.

Crimson eyes turned, looking at Jonathan as he approached. The vampire licked the ginger's neck softly before his fangs dipped into the flesh, cutting in cleanly. He pulled them out and licked a bit at the wound, slurping and sucking before making out with it. The ginger moaned and writhed, but the vampire's eyes returned to Jonathan's before very long. As he finally got there, the vampire pulled his mouth from his victim's neck and nodded to some of the other young men wandering around. The victim was helped to his feet and escorted to a back room.

"So you've arrived at last?" The vampire asked curiously. Jonathan hesitated.

"Was I expected?" he asked. The vampire grinned.

"Oh yes... But I never knew you'd be quite so handsome." The vampire said, standing up. He moved over and circled Jonathan, looking at his beanie hat and his colorful shirt before he leaned in to sniff at him. As he was being sized up like a piece of meat, Jonathan was staring at the vampire's shoes. They were amazing... White and crisp, perfect with red detailing. They looked so new he could practically smell the store on them. He resisted the urge to just bend down and rub the shoes, especially as black painted nails began caressing his neck.

"So, you wanna play with my boys and me?" The vampire whispered, flashing his fangs. Jonathan seemed almost drunk with the prospect.

"For how long?" Jonathan asked.

"The rest of time." The vampire replied simply, taking Jonathan by the hand. Staring into those deep crimson eyes, Jonathan didn't resist. He was led across the dance floor to a private room near the back, the door easing open. The occupants inside were even more handsome than the other patrons, something Jonathan found it hard to believe. All the boys were right on the cusp of manhood, handsome and waifish, dressed well in whatever style they had chosen. There were vampires of all races represented and they all looked at Jonathan with hungry eyes.

Jonathan felt scared somewhere in the back of his soul, but that fear was feeding his erection. The teen was brought over to the edge of the bed and almost at once hands were all over him, massaging him and rubbing him, lifting up his shirt. His nipples wee felt up, his ass was cupped, but Jonathan turned and dropped down, feeling as if it was time to embrace his true instincts. The vampire looked surprised as the blond teen began nuzzling his shoes, sniffing the laces and petting the leather.

"You like that do you? Are you a little shoe slut?" The vampire asked, nodding to the other vampires. Jonathan's shirt was pulled from him, his pants were torn and his underwear was split. Soon his body was naked, on all fours but he still had on his hat and his shoes. His cock dangled beneath him until a hand wrapped around it, stroking it and pumping it. Boys leaned in, starting to lick and nuzzle his neck.

"I am a shoe slut... But you have the best shoes I've ever seen." Jonathan whispered.

"That won't be the only thing I'm best at." The vampire said, pushing Jonathan onto his back, moving to straddle him. He kissed the teen and sucked his lips commandingly. Jonathan shivered, his tongue grazing the deadly fangs in the mouth before him. He felt the vampire's weight shift on his body, maneuvering around a bit. He wasn't sure why at first until he saw one of those shoes enter his field of vision again, held up.

"Oh... yes..." Jonathan begged. The vampire chuckled.

"Of all the boys that have been sent to me, you just might be one of the easiest." The vampire said, bringing the shoe to Jonathan's face. Jonathan buried his nose in the hole, feeling the tongue lay across his forehead. He began inhaling the smell of new shoe and foot, filling his lugs with it.

As his chest rose and fell, his next pulsed with vitality. The vampire leaned in, grazing his fangs along the skin before he felt the vital pulse of the veins and sunk in.. Jonathan tried to call out but the shoe was pressed tighter to his face. He panted desperately before he felt the hot wet leak of blood from his neck. The lead vampire sucked and slurped at it, grinning wide.

Jonathan was comforted by the shoe, inhaling the scent almost made him feel high. He'd once gotten a job at a shoe store but had been fired upon the discovery that he'd unboxed their entire inventory... they still hadn't realized what he had done with them all, but now it was almost like an anesthesia for him. He was laying there, sniffing as the vampire licked and sucked at his neck, keeping it clean. Every time a drop came out, it was taken right back up.... But the vampire wasn't alone.

The hungry, envious stares had grown more numerous before the vampire nodded and let more in. Two by two, Jonathan felt fangs sink into the other side of his neck, his shoulder, even his leg. His back arched and his heart tried to compensate for rapidly dropping blood pressure, but the vampires were experienced. Some were hundreds of years old, a few even older than that.

Jonathan's brain tried to replay everything he had learned about vampires. There weren't too many stories he was familiar with regarding that many vampires. From around the shoe he could count at least three, but he might have been seeing double. His arms were feeling tired and heavy, his legs were getting a little numb... The euphoria was masking the fact that he was getting drained completely.

Jonathan tried to move but his body didn't respond... Only his lungs had managed to keep working somehow, filling him with the smell of shoes that he loved so very much. His life was draining and I almost seemed preposterous. Would his family find out one day how he died? Stripped naked and sucked to death in a night club of gay vampire boys? Whatever shame and fear he had disappeared as the vampire brought the other shoe up, the white leather so fresh and new, the tread untouched... and the shoe came down around Jonathan's shaft. His cock slid into the hole like it was a foot, resting against the sole. The weight of it, the awkward center of balance. It was too much. Jonathan's body spasmed. His shaft sprayed thicker than usual semen directly into the shoe, but the man flesh was getting a little softer from the lack of blood.

One by one the vampires let up, pulling off. There wasn't enough blood left to leak out of the holes, leaving him clean and exanguinated. Only the first vampire remained, leaning down to nuzzle his lips against the teenager's now pale ears.

"This... is a cross in the roads, a path that only you can take lays before you. One direction leads to sleep, rest and peace... The other leaves everything you know behind and you live eternally off of the life of others. All you must do is choose what you want." The vampire said.

"I want..." Jonathan whispered softly, his eyes vague and glassy. He blinked and smacked his lips, finding even that hard as his body sputtered toward death, "I want..." he tried again, his blue eyes opening up, "More..." he whispered. As the words left his mouth, crimson red spilled into his irises, staining them the color of blood. His skin grew even icier, color draining from it forever as his blond hair seemed almost to turn silver or white.

The virus that had tinged the saliva in his wounds began to spread through the cells of his body and Jonathan's change continued. The baby fat he had melted away. His muscles shrank, becoming more efficient to do the same amount of work with less space. He was trim and fit and the hair around his groin seemed to flutter away, leaving bare skin. In some ways saying Jonathan looked eighteen would be generous, but while he would continue to get older, he would never age again. Jonathan's lips puffed up just a little as his mouth parted. His teeth ached and throbbed, two extending forcibly into fangs. He The shoe tumbled from his face as he bore them for the first time, hissing before his lips were met by the lead vampire's.

Tongues tangled tightly, lips smacking and shifting as saliva was swapped. Strength was returning to Jonathan's body bit by bit. He had survived, making it through the perilous time of near death. His cells wee no longer quite alive, nor were they dead. They wouldn't just break down as humans did over night... Everything, it seemed, was falling into place. Jonathan continued to kiss, but he broke his embrace from the leader, looking around. A Latin young man leaned in and kissed him and Jonathan found fangs in his mouth as well... Soon he was sampling kisses from the black vampire, the native American vampire, moving around one by one. He had been embraced into their coven, their group... He was a part of the entourage and he'd be forever happy, protected and complete... and he hoped he would always have the best shoes as well.

****

Early dawn sunlight streamed trough the basement windows, casting across dusty tables and wooden boxes of tools. They were the chisels, the files, the molders and scrapers of a wax artist from the last century... and they hadn't been touched in years. Blocks of wax sat near the back of the cool basement, warped with age and no longer premium grade. There was even a dusty coat rack with a cloak hanging off of it, torn and battered. In the midst of the old and the decay, the apprentice sat in a chair, his legs spread, his hard cock in his ringed hands. He stroked his meat up and down, licking his lips as one hand played with the waxed curl of his mustache.

His masturbation had lasted all night as he watched his newest creations take shape, and at last they were done. To one side of the basement a pair of new wax figures stood, one hunched over the next. One was a young man, looking almost like a hipster with his gold earrings and shaggy brown hair, though his ears were pointed and his cheeks covered with simulated fuzz. The fangs looked like they were dripping with saliva, though it was all fake... and his clawed hands dug into the hips of the blond wolf man beneath him.

Sitting next to the wax figure was a new set of clothes, a deer leather jacket and slacks... but captured in perfect wax detail, Malcolm's feet were clad in pristine black motocross boots. The other hunter had been formed in wax as well, on all fours, snarling in his new beast form. A long leather leash looped out across the floor, waiting to be put in the hand of the one villager that had been on display already. It would certainly be an adult show, but who didn't want to see werewolf sex captured in still life? Then again, vampires weren't that bad to look at either.

The formation of Jonathan's wax figure and the entourage around him had almost been too much for the apprentice. Five figures in all. Jonathan was at the center of it all, pale and blond, wearing a crimson read beanie that matched his eyes. He had a fang filled grin frozen on his face and wore nothing but the white and red shoes and perfect, crisp white socks that the vampire leader had been wearing. Two vampires stood on either side of Jonathan, holding him up, supporting him through his change. It almost seemed biblical.

The apprentice basked in what he had done, not just to the newest boys but to all the members since had had taken over the collection. He'd watched on the security cameras as they were tempted into the displays and ensnared in the magic, disappearing from the mortal world. The lives they would have led had been stolen, the energy fed to him... And for a short while, that was all. Silence, energy and rapture... but then the true magic had started downstairs.

The great Hanneman had taught the apprentice the wicked spell, that energy as potent as a soul could not simply be destroyed. The echoes and ripples of the stolen lives sought out ways to continue on. Typically that was how one made ghosts, but Hanneman had channeled the energy into wax sculptures. He never had expected what good bait it was to continue the cycle... and thus both Hanneman and his apprentice gained the lives of their victims, but the apprentice had grown greedy. Hanneman had been subjected to the same spell as their many victims.

The apprentice shuddered as his cock pulsed and he began spraying cum all over his stomach, reaching the point of orgasm as he thought how much he had accomplished in the last twenty years on his own. His seed was thick and soupy, pent up for some time. He panted and moaned, going cross eyed a bit before he recovered. Soon he stood up without wiping himself off, dripping his seed to the floor. He crossed the room, pausing to admire Malcolm's boots before he approached the darkest corner.

"Oh Hanneman, you don't know what you've been missing, stuck in your fantasy realm." The apprentice said as he stopped before a seven foot tall form covered in blue fabric. He reached up and pulled the tarp off, watching it unfurl. Standing beneath was a hulking figure. He seemed to be in his early thirties, his black hair sleek, with big hoop earrings in his ears. The figure seemed almost like a gypsy, but his clothes were those of a magician. The faded blue fabric had silver moons all across it.

"I learned everything I know from you, but I'd like to think I taught you something too. Never trust an apprentice with the secret to eternal life, at least not when he has the power to take yours." The apprentice smirked, looking at the wax figure before him, thinking of the reality his master had been sent to... but something was a bit off, something didn't seem right.

The apprentice leaned forward, looking at the perfectly sculpted pores and follicles on Hanneman's face when he noticed a tiny drop of sweat rolling down. The apprentice's eyes widened sharply as a wax hand shot up, wrapping around his throat. The wax figure started to creak his neck and move, his eyes glowing with a mysterious and ancient power as his lips opened up, revealing long vicious fangs... fangs that were soon sunk into the apprentice's neck.