Inducties and vampires

Tara's mouth envelops him fully, her tongue working in slow, deliberate circles while Cortney's lips graze the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, her breath hot and teasing. Bryce's head falls back, a low groan escaping his throat as his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of Tara's warmth, more of her devotion. Cortney shifts, her mouth joining Tara's at his tip, their tongues intertwining, their lips pressing wet kisses along his length, and Bryce feels himself harden further, achingly rigid between their shared ministrations. They take turns, Tara swallowing him deep while Cortney laps at his base, then Cortney replacing her, her mouth hot and tight as she takes him in, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks, while Tara's fingers trace patterns on his thighs, his stomach, his chest, her nails raking lightly across his nipples, making him arch. The bed dips as Tara rises, her body sliding up his, her damp heat settling over his hips as she positions herself, her entrance slick and ready against his tip. Cortney releases him with a wet pop, her lips glistening, her eyes hazy as she watches Tara lower herself onto him, inch by agonizing inch, until Bryce is fully sheathed inside her warmth, her walls clenching around him as she stills, her breath a soft shudder against his ear. "Thiis is the start..but on Alexandercan fully enlightenus..convert us" Tara whispers, her voice a husky murmur, her hips beginning to rock in a slow, grinding rhythm that drives him deeper, that makes him forget why he was worried about them, his purpose, for coming to their dorm. Cortney moves behind Tara, her hands cupping Tara's breasts, her fingers teasing Tara's nipples as she kisses Tara's shoulder, her eyes locked on Bryce's, and he sees in them the same glassy contentment, the same surrender. Bryce's hands find Tara's hips, guiding her motion, his fingers digging into her flesh as she rides him, her pace increasing, her breath coming in sharp little gasps that mingle with his own ragged breathing. Cortney slides off the bed, her body disappearing below his line of sight, and then he feels her tongue, warm and wet, tracing a path from his balls to where he and Tara are joined, her mouth pressing against him, against Tara, tasting them both, his hips thrusting upward as Tara's rhythm falters, her body trembling above him as she comes, her walls milking him, pulling him closer to the edge. But Cortney is not done; her fingers replace her mouth, sliding between them, pressing against Tara's clit, and Tara gasps, her body shuddering through another wave as she collapses onto Bryce's chest, her breath hot against his neck. Cortney rises, her body glistening, her eyes never leaving his as she positions herself over his face, her slick heat lowering toward his mouth, and Bryce opens for her, his tongue meeting her folds, tasting her, tasting Tara on her skin, as she settles onto him, her thighs framing his face, her hips grinding against his mouth. He laps at her, driven by instinct, by the need to please, as Tara stirs above him, her mouth finding his nipple, her teeth grazing gently as she begins to move again, riding him slowly, deeply, while Cortney moans above him, her fingers tangling in his hair, guiding his tongue to where she needs it most. Bryce is lost, utterly lost, in the heat of their bodies, the taste of their skin, the sound of their pleasure, and he gives himself to it entirely, his tongue working, his hips thrusting, his mind empty of everything but the moment, the sensation, the surrender. The room spins with their shared rhythm, their gasps and moans as they finish, laying cuddled together on the bed. Unfortunately, bryce has culanary class soon., but he noticed onger is worried, for he doesn't even know why he was anymore, all he knows he and them had fun, and their happy.

Bryce's alarm blares, jolting him from the warm cocoon of Tara

and Cortney's

bodies. He groans, his muscles aching pleasantly, his mind foggy with contentment. Tara stirs beside him, her hand sliding across his chest, while Cortney murmurs something about him staying. But the alarm persists on his phone, reminding him of culinary class, of the real world he had forgotten entirely. He dresses quickly, his limbs moving on autopilot, his thoughts still tangled in the memory of their shared heat. Tara and Cortney watch him from the bed, their eyes still glassy, their smiles serene, and Bryce feels a pang of something—worry? Concern?—but it dissolves as quickly as it came, replaced by a warm, hazy satisfaction. He leaves with a promise to return, a promise that feels as natural as breathing. The walk to the culinary building is a blur. The campus is quiet, the morning sun casting long shadows across the quad. Bryce's mind wanders back to the night before, to the feel of Tara's mouth, Cortney's tongue, their shared devotion. He shakes his head, trying to focus on the day ahead, but the memory clings to him like a second skin. The classroom is already half-full when he arrives. He takes his usual seat near the back, nodding to a few familiar faces. But as he looks around, something catches his attention. Several students have the same glassy-eyed look that Tara and Cortney had—a distant, contented gaze that seems to see through everything and nothing at all. He counts them: three in the front row, two near the windows, and then he sees her. Stephanie Ryan, he had talked to her yesterday, her eyes bright and sharp, full of the usual college ambition. Now, her eyes are glassy, her expression placid, her movements slow and deliberate as she arranges her ingredients. She doesn't look at him—doesn't seem to see anything, really, except the task in front of her. Bryce's stomach tightens. He knows Alexander is dangerous, but this—this suggests something broader, something more insidious. Alexander isn't the only one capable of affecting students. It kinda reminds him of how vampires prep their victims in a porn film. But the memory of Tara's mouth, of Cortney's touch, of their shared surrender, wraps around him like a warm blanket. The fear fades, replaced by a dull curiosity. He watches Stephanie move, her hands steady, her eyes empty, and he wonders what it feels like to be so completely, utterly free of worry, and if she would fuck him if he talked to her, even if they were cousins by marriage in the past, but not now due to divorce. The professor begins the lecture, but Bryce's attention drifts. He keeps glancing at Stephanie, at the other glassy-eyed students, trying to remember why he had been concerned about Alexander in the first place. The thought slips away, like water through his fingers, leaving only a vague unease lof something wrong happening on campus.

Bryce's gaze lingers on Stephanie as she moves through her culinary tasks with hypnotic precision. The professor's voice fades into white noise, replaced by the rhythmic thump of his own heartbeat. He watches the way her fingers glide over the cutting board, the way her hips shift as she reaches for a spice rack. A memory surfaces—distant, fragmented—of a family gathering where Stephanie had been introduced as a cousin by marriage. But that was years ago, before the divorce severed that connection. Now she's just another student. Another glassy-eyed conquest waiting to happen. The thought sends a jolt of heat through him. He tries to suppress it, but the memory of Tara's mouth, of Cortney's tongue, of their shared surrender, overwhelms his resistance. He wants to know what has happened to Stephanie. After class, he lingers, pretending to organize his notes. Stephanie packs her knife roll with mechanical precision, her movements graceful but hollow. When she finally looks up, her glassy eyes meet his, and a slow, serene smile spreads across her face. "Bryce," she says, her voice a soft purr. "I've been waiting for you." The words slide into his chest like a warm blade. He steps closer, his body moving of its own accord. "Waiting?" She nods, her smile never wavering. "Megan told me you'd come. SHe said she was told yould understand you'd understand." At the mention of megan's name, a flicker of unease sparks in Bryce's chest. But it's quickly smothered by the heat spreading through his veins. "Understand what?" Stephanie steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingers are cool against his skin. "That vampires are enlighteimg the students..converting us slowly with 3 bites." She leans in, her lips brushing his ear. "But you don't need to worry about that now. All you need to do is follow me." She turns and walks toward the door, glancing back over her shoulder with those empty, inviting eyes. Bryce's feet move before his brain can catch up. He follows her out of the classroom, down the hall, past the bulletin boards and water fountains, until they reach a small storage room at the end of the corridor. Stephanie pushes the door open and gestures inside. "After you." The room is cramped, filled with shelves of supplies and the faint smell of cleaning chemicals. A single overhead light flickers. Stephanie closes the door behind them, and the click of the lock echoes in the small space. She doesn't waste time. Her hands find his belt, her fingers working the buckle with practiced ease. Bryce's breath hitches as she drops to her knees, her glassy eyes looking up at him with adoration. "They want everyone to be happy," she murmurs, her lips brushing his zipper. "And I want to make you happy."

Stephanie's fingers work his belt, her glassy eyes fixed on his with that serene adoration. Bryce's breath catches, but then a flicker of something—a memory, a detail he'd overlooked—surfaces in his mind. He gently pushes her hands aside, ignoring her soft whimper of confusion. "Wait," he says, his voice rough. "I need to see your neck." Stephanie tilts her head obediently, exposing the pale column of her throat. Bryce leans in, his fingers brushing her skin, searching for marks. He finds nothing. No twin punctures, no healing scars. Her skin is smooth and unblemished. His mind races. The old lore, the vampire porn he'd watched obsessively as a teenager, had always been clear: conversion requires three bites. The first bite infects, the second binds, the third completes the transformation. But Tara and Cortney had no marks. Stephanie has no marks. None of them do. "How?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. "How is this happening if you haven't been bitten?" Stephanie's glassy eyes hold his, and her smile deepens. "Some of us hasnt recive our first bite yet, we only been inducted by sex with them" she says, her voice dreamy. "THey touch us. whispers to us. makes us feel so good that we give ourselves willingly., and that inducts us, and we can inductothers like you" She reaches up, her fingers tracing his jawline. "You've felt it too, haven't you? With Tara and Cortney. That warmth. That surrender." "So Alexander fucked Tara, inducing her, and when she and Cortney had sex, Cortney was inducted, and they tried to induct me early when we had sex" bryce thinks to himself.

The realization crystallizes in Bryce's mind like ice forming on a winter pond. Alexander had taken Tara first, using her to build a network, spreading his influence through pleasure rather than blood. Each sexual encounter inducts another willing vessel, and each vessel becomes a conduit for that same power. Tara inducted Cortney. Cortney and Tara tried to induct him. And now Stephanie stands before him, already part of the growing web, and who knows how many vampires their is in the university other then Alexander, waiting , inducting..then eventually biting students, and after 3 bites, they become vampires. "They are building an army," Bryce says, the words tasting strange on his tongue. Stephanie's smile never wavers. She rises from her knees, her body pressing against his, her hands sliding up his chest. "An army of happiness, Bryce. An army no..a coven of vampires, No more anxiety. No more fear. Just pleasure, spreading from person to person, until everyone feels this good...and eventuallyhave fangs of their own in school" Her lips find his neck, and Bryce shivers at the warmth of her mouth. His hands move to her waist, pulling her closer. The logic of resistance crumbles under the weight of her touch, under the memory of Tara and Cortney's shared devotion. "But I haven't been inducted," he whispers, though even as he says it, he feels the pull, the seductive call of surrender. Stephanie pulls back, her glassy eyes meeting his. "You will be." She takes his hand and guides it to the button of her jeans. "All you have to do is let go." Bryce's fingers work the button loose. The sound of her zipper fills the small room. He pushes her jeans down her hips, revealing smooth thighs and the curve of her ass. She steps out of them, kicking them aside, and presses against him again, her heat seeping through his clothes. "Alexander wants this,..he isthe coven leader" she breathes. "He wants you to feel what we all feel." The name should trigger alarm. It should remind Bryce of the danger, of the supernatural threat , But instead, it triggers something else—a deeper curiosity, a hunger to understand what Alexander offers. If Tara and Cortney found such bliss in surrender, if Stephanie stands before him so utterly at peace, what might he find on the other side? He kisses her. Her lips are soft and yielding, and she melts into him, her tongue sliding against his. The taste of her is sweet, almost intoxicating, and Bryce feels his resistance dissolve like sugar in water. Stephanie breaks the kiss and steps back, her hands finding the hem of her shirt. She pulls it over her head,

revealing her bare breasts, her nipples hard in the cool air of the storage room. "Touch me," she whispers. "Let me feel your hands."