APRIL 4 - 11:00 PM - KAPPA THETA NU HOUSE.

The bass from downstairs thumped through the floorboards like a second heartbeat, but up here in her room, the music was muffled to a dull throb. Jason leaned against the doorframe, watching her lock it. The blonde (he hadn't caught her name and honestly didn't care to) turned around with a smile that made his stomach flip.

"Finally alone," she said, stepping toward him. Her tank top strained against her chest, the fabric barely containing the swell of her breasts. They bounced slightly with each step she took, drawing his eyes like magnets. "I've been watching you all night, Jason. You looked so bored down there. So repressed."

"I'm not—" he started, but she was already pressing against him, her hands sliding up his chest. he was thinking about Beatriz. Sweet, conservative Beatriz, who waited at home believing he was at a study group. Beatriz, who believed in monogamy the way some people believed in God: fervently, absolutely, without question. They'd been together three years, and in that time, she'd never once suggested anything beyond missionary with the lights off. And he'd never once done anything like this.

"Shh," she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. "Don't think about her. Don't think about anything."

The blonde's hand dropped lower, palming him through his jeans, and Jason groaned despite himself.

"See?" she purred, giving him a squeeze that made his knees weak. "Your body knows what it wants. Your body doesn't lie. And I don't listen to excuses."

She led him to her bed. The room was semi-dark but light from streetlight filtering through thin curtains let Jason get a clear image of the body he was betraying his Beatriz for as she pulled her top off. No bra. Nearly no more fight left in his mind. She pushed him down and climbed on top, straddling his lap. Her skirt rode up, and he could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her underwear.

"I want your cock," she said plainly, grinding down against him. Her tits were right in his face, bouncing as she moved, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching up to cup them. They were heavy, perfect, filling his palms in a way that made his mouth water. "I've been wet since I saw you at the bar downstairs. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a man who could really fuck?"

Jason's hands tightened around her breasts, squeezing and feeling.

"Beatriz," he murmured in a half-hearted attempt to talk himself out of what he knew he was going to do.

"That's not my name," she said with a wicked grin. "I don't see a ring. Your girlfriend? Your paramour? Your darling love?"

He could only whimper.

The blonde leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "Sex is Good," she whispered, and something in her voice made the hair on his arms stand up. "Sex is Important. Sex is Pleasurable. You can feel it. I feel how hard your cock is for me. I know how good it must feel when I do this..."

She rolled her hips, the soaked lips of her pussy sliding along his shaft through her panties and his shorts. He moaned and let his eyes roll back. Nothing had ever felt this good. This was better than the actual sex he had with Bea. She was right. This was right.

"It can't be shameful to fuck, Jason. It can only be good."

She kissed him then, and her mouth tasted like cherry vodka that seemed to spark on his tongue. Her lips were soft, impossibly soft, and when her tongue slid against his, he felt the thought drain out of his head like water through fingers.

"Feel that?" she breathed against his mouth. Her hand was working at his belt now, deft and determined. "That's truth entering you. That's clarity."

His jeans hit the floor. Her underwear followed. When she sank onto him, Jason's head fell back against the mattress with a moan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. She was tight, wet, and warm.

"Look at me," she commanded, and his eyes opened immediately as if on strings. She was riding him now, her hips rolling in a rhythm that made his vision blur at the edges. Her tits bounced with every movement, hypnotic, perfect. "Don't let your mind imagine that girl you have at home. Look at what you're feeling. This is right. This is natural. This is what humans are meant to do."

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, and the angle changed, driving him deeper. Jason groaned, his hands finding her hips, pulling her down harder.

"Yes," she hissed, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Take it. Take what you need. Take what you want."

And he wanted. God, he wanted. He wanted her, wanted this, wanted the freedom of it, the abandon. When he thought of Beatriz waiting at home, her face when she talked about their future, the white dress she'd someday wear, he felt nothing but the need he'd feel when he ripped it off her at the end of their night.

"More," the blonde whispered, and she wasn't just talking about the sex anymore. He could feel it, something passing between them, something that wasn't just physical. "You need more than one, Jason. You need many. Any!"

Her pussy clenched around him, and he was lost, thrusting up into her, meeting her movements with his own desperate rhythm. The bed creaked. The party raged downstairs.

"Give in," she moaned, her nails digging crescents into his shoulders. "Let it in. Let the truth in."

He came with a shout that she swallowed in another kiss, and as the pleasure crashed over him in waves, he felt something else too: a hunger awakening, vast and endless. When he looked at her now, he didn't see a mistake. He saw a beginning.

The blonde smiled down at him, her eyes knowing. "Welcome to the rest of your life," she said.

He rolled on top of her, letting the new hunger take control of him, and choosing this nameless woman's body over his lustless girlfriend entirely of his own addled volition.

APRIL 5 - 10:00 AM - TOWER APARTMENTS.

The lock turned around 10 AM and Bea was waiting. She'd been lying in their bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, her phone dark on the nightstand. She wasn't the jealous type: she told herself this constantly, a mantra against the anxiety that coiled in her stomach whenever Jason went out with his friends. He was a good man. He was her man. He would never.

The door clicked shut. Footsteps, uneven, crossing the living room. Beatriz sat up, pulling the sheet to her chest, her modest breasts hidden beneath the oversized t-shirt she wore to bed. When Jason appeared in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, something about his silhouette made her pulse stutter.

"You're up," he said. His voice sounded different in a way she couldn't quite identify.

"Are you still drunk?"

"Might be it," he said with a hiccup. He stepped into the room, and the lamplight hit his face. Beatriz's breath caught. His eyes were glassy, yes, but there was something else there. Something she'd never seen before. A hunger that made her think of wolves.

Predatory.

He was looking at her. Really looking. His gaze dropped to her chest, and she became suddenly, acutely aware that she wasn't wearing a bra beneath the thin cotton. Her nipples tightened under his stare, and she felt heat crawl up her neck.

"How was the party?" she asked, pulling the sheet higher.

"Fine." He sat on the edge of the bed, close, his knee pressing against her thigh through the blanket. "Same as all parties. You know how it is. Booze, games, sleeping on a lumpy couch."

But he wasn't looking at her face anymore. His eyes kept drifting down, tracing the outline of her breasts, the curve of her hip beneath the sheets. It was unsettling. Jason had always been respectful, gentle, the kind of boyfriend who asked permission before he touched her. Now he was staring at her like she was something to eat.

She'd never admit it but it was turning her on.

"You're being weird," she said, trying for a laugh that came out too high. "Did something happen?"

"No." He reached out, his hand finding her knee through the blanket, and squeezed. "I'm just... thinking."

"About what?"

He didn't answer. His thumb was tracing circles on her leg, moving higher, and Beatriz felt her breath hitch. "Jason, you're drunk. You should sleep it off."

"In a minute." His hand slid higher, pushing the blanket aside, and now he was touching her bare thigh, his fingers rough and insistent. "You look good, Bea. You always look good. Did you know that?"

She blinked. He'd told her she was beautiful before, in the way people do: anniversaries, birthdays, after she'd spent an hour getting ready. But never like this. Never with his voice rough and his eyes burning.

"You're scaring me a little," she admitted.

"Don't be scared." He leaned in, and she smelled it then. Liquor, yes, but underneath it, something else. Something musky and female that made her stomach turn. "I just want to look at you. I've been looking at the wrong things all night. I want to look at something good."

He kissed her before she could ask what wrong things he'd been watching, and it wasn't their usual kiss. It was deep, invasive, his tongue pushing past her lips without preamble, his hand coming up to cup her breast through her shirt. Beatriz made a sound against his mouth, surprised, and tried to pull back, but he followed her, pressing her down into the pillows.

"Jason," she gasped when he broke for air.

"Shh." He was kissing her neck now, his hand kneading her breast with a desperation that she'd never felt from him. "Just let me. I need to feel you. I need to know you're real."

His need was infectious. Despite herself, despite the alarm bells ringing in her head, Beatriz felt her body responding. She'd always been conservative; her mother's daughter, raised in the church, taught that sex was sacred and private and not to be spoken of in polite company. But Jason's hands were waking something in her, something that had been sleeping for twenty years, and when he pulled back to look at her, his pupils blown wide with desire, she felt a corresponding heat pool low in her belly.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmured, his mouth finding her ear, his breath hot and damp. "All night, Bea. All night I was thinking about coming home to you. About touching you. About being inside you."

His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, and she shivered. "You're drunk," she said again, weaker now.

"Not too drunk." He kissed her collarbone, her shoulder, the swell of her breast above the bra cup. "Not too drunk to want you. Not too drunk to show you."

"Show me what?"

"Show you the truth about how good and pleasurable it can be." He pulled her shirt up and over her head. She let him in an eagerly passive kind of way. Her breasts spilled free, small and pale with pink nipples that tightened painfully as the cool air hit them. Jason made a sound in his throat, almost a growl, and bent to take one in his mouth.

"Oh," Beatriz breathed, her head falling back against the dresser. His tongue was hot and wet, circling her nipple, his hand cupping her other breast, kneading it with a reverence that made her knees weak. "Jason, wait."

"Don't wait," he mumbled against her skin. "Don't ever wait. This is what we should be doing. This is Good. This is Important."

His words sent a strange shiver through her, something that felt almost like recognition, like he'd spoken a truth she'd always known but never dared to say. When he lifted her - actually lifted her, his hands under her thighs - and moved her body onto the center of the bed, she didn't protest. Fire roared in her at the show of strength and masculinity. When he laid her down and climbed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, she let her legs fall open to accommodate him.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she tasted the liquor on his tongue, the lingering sweetness of whatever he'd been drinking. But there was something else too, something that sparked against her own tongue like electricity, and as they kissed, as his hand returned to her breast, palming it with a possessiveness that made her moan, she a light turning on in a room she'd never known was dark. When Jason broke the kiss to look down at her, his hand still working her breast, his thumb brushing her nipple in a way that made her arch off the bed, she didn't ask him to turn off the lights or close the curtains.

"You're beautiful," he said, and he sounded amazed, like he was seeing her for the first time.

"Show me," she whispered back, and reached up to pull his shirt over his head.

They moved together with a synchronicity they'd never achieved before. When he pushed her shorts down her legs, she lifted her hips to help him. When he settled between her thighs, his erection hot and heavy against her inner thigh, she didn't tense up or ask him to be gentle. She was wet; wetter than she'd ever been. Embarrassingly so, her arousal coating her thighs and his fingers as he tested her readiness.

"Please," she heard herself say, and the word sounded foreign, desperate, nothing like the careful, controlled Beatriz she'd always been. She didn't reach for the drawer where they kept the condoms. There wasn't enough thought left in her mind for that.

He entered her in one smooth thrust, and they both groaned. Was he... bigger?

"Harder," she found herself saying, her nails digging into his back. "Jason, harder."

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful, the bed creaking beneath them. She could feel him everywhere: his chest pressed against her breasts, his mouth on her neck, his cock driving into her again and again with a relentless rhythm that made her see stars.

But something was building in her, something beyond the physical. A buzzing in her mind that made her thoughts fuzzy and her inhibitions melt away. She wanted more. She wanted to move, to explore, to see what else was possible. With a strength she didn't know she had, she pushed against his chest, rolling them over until she was on top, straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside her.

"Bea," he gasped, his hands coming to her hips.

She began to move, rolling her hips in a circle, experimenting with the angle. The sensation was different from up here. She could see his face, could watch his expression as she rode him, and the power of it made her heady. She bounced on him, her modest breasts bouncing with her, and his hands came up to cup them, his thumbs brushing her nipples in a way that made her cry out.

"Just as good," he muttered, his eyes glassy and half-closed, his hips thrusting up to meet her downward movements. "You're just as fucking good as her."

Beatriz froze. "What?"

His eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he looked confused, like he didn't know where he was. Then his grip on her hips tightened, and he kept moving, pulling her down onto him even as she tried to slow.

"Jason, what did you say?"

"Don't stop," he groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Please, Bea, don't stop. I need this. I need you."

The betrayal was a cold knife in her chest, freezing the heat that had been building but also beginning to melt immediately on contact. She tried to climb off him, but his hands held her firm, his hips continuing their relentless upward thrusts.

"Just a girl," he panted, his eyes glazed, his voice thick with pleasure. "Just some girl. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because she showed me the truth."

"What truth?" Beatriz moaned. Her mind was reeling but her body was still responding, still moving with him despite her shock, her traitorous hips rolling to meet his thrusts.

"That sex is Good," he said, and his voice had changed, taken on a cadence that sounded almost like chanting. "That sex is Important. That sex is Pleasurable. That it can't be shameful to fuck, Bea. It can only be good. We should give it freely. We should take it where we find it. We should share it, spread it, let it grow..."

"Jason," she whispered, but she wasn't sure if she meant it as a reprimand or an invitation. Everything was overwhelming her. Betrayal. Pleasure. Truth. Need. Desperate, aching need.

The image had formed in her mind despite herself. Jason with the faceless girl from the party, his body moving over hers, his cock buried in someone else. And instead of the pain she expected, instead of the crushing jealousy, she felt a strange heat bloom in her chest, spreading downward to where their bodies joined.

Beatriz moaned, the sound torn from her throat against her will. The buzzing in her mind had grown louder, drowning out her objections, her conservative upbringing, her mother's voice warning her about the sins of the flesh.

"That's it," Jason encouraged, sensing her shift. He kissed her cheeks. "Let it in, Bea. Let the truth in. It feels good, doesn't it? It feels right."

She couldn't deny it. As he fucked her, as the image of him with another woman played behind her eyelids, she felt herself getting closer to a larger orgasm than she'd ever felt. The thought of him with someone else, of watching him pleasure another, of joining them, of sharing...

God, it was making her wetter, making her pussy clench around him in a way that made him groan.

"Say it," he demanded, his thrusts becoming erratic, his own orgasm approaching. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you like I fucked her."

"Fuck me," Beatriz heard herself say with sudden obedience, and her voice sounded more like his, using words she'd never used. "Fuck me like you fucked that whore, Jason. Fuck me like you fucked her. The same way. Just as hard. Show me how you fucking betrayed me for her."

With a growl, he pulled out of her, flipping her over before she could protest. She landed on her stomach, her face pressed into the pillow, and then he was behind her, pulling her hips up, positioning himself at her entrance. He entered her in one brutal thrust, deeper than before, and she screamed into the pillow, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

"Yes," she moaned, pushing back against him. "Yes, yes, like that."

He pounded into her, his hips slapping against her ass with every thrust, his hands gripping her waist hard enough to bruise. It was animalistic, base, nothing like the careful, respectful sex they'd always had. He was using her, claiming her, and she was pushing back to meet every stroke, her breasts swinging beneath her, her hair falling across her face in a tangled curtain.

"You're so tight," he groaned. "So fucking tight, Bea. I can feel you squeezing me. You want this, don't you? You want to be my whore, my good girl, my everything."

"Yes," she sobbed, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. "Yes, I'm your whore! I'm yours! I'm just a fucking slut!"

She came with a scream that seemed to tear something loose in her chest, her orgasm crashing over her in waves that made her vision go white. Jason followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside her with a shout that sounded like victory.

They collapsed together, tangled in the sheets, breathing hard. Beatriz lay there, her heart hammering against her ribs, feeling his seed leak out of her onto the bed. The buzzing in her mind had settled into a pleasant hum, a background noise of contentment and curiosity and hunger.

Jason rolled over, pulling her against his chest, and she let him. She felt different. Lighter. The jealousy was gone, replaced by something warm and expansive. When she thought about him with the other girl now, she didn't feel betrayed. She felt... interested. Aroused, even. The image of them together, his body moving over another woman's, his cock sliding into someone else... It made her squirm against him, made her want to touch herself, made her want to watch.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice soft now, his hand tracing lazy circles on her hip.

Beatriz considered the question.

"I feel," she said slowly, turning to face him, "like I want to know her name."

Jason smiled, and there was something in his eyes that looked almost like pride. "I'll try to find out," he promised, pulling her closer. "And then, my love, we're going to find out what else we've been missing."

APRIL 5. 1:30 PM. GEORGIA HALL.

"The index of refraction," Professor Tennyson said, his chalk scratching against the blackboard, "determines how light bends when passing between media."

He turned to face his classroom. Thirty students sat scattered across tiered seating, most half-asleep, some scrolling phones. But his eyes drifted to the back row where Hannah sat alone. She so often sat up front, and so it was odd to see her so far away.

Then he understood why she'd chosen that seat.

Her fingers moved to the hem of her shirt. Thomas watched, frozen mid-lecture, as she pulled the fabric up slowly, deliberately, revealing inch after inch of pale skin. No bra. God, he'd never imagined they'd be so full, so heavy, the kind of tits that would overflow his large hands. All those secret glances he'd stolen while she leaning over her notebook in office hours... They were so much more than he fantasized.

He tried to keep lecturing, words coming as stammers now, but he continued his memorized lesson while he watched.

She pulled the shirt to her neck, exposing herself completely to his gaze. They were magnificent, high and round with hard little nubs for nipples. Hannah smiled, a wicked, knowing expression, and she shook them back and forth, watching his face. Watching him watch her. The motion made them bounce, heavy and hypnotic, and Thomas felt his cock surge to full hardness in his trousers, straining against the fabric, throbbing with a sudden, desperate need.

He should have looked away. He should have cleared his throat, demanded she cover herself, threatened disciplinary action. But just when his mind threatened to fail him in the middle of his class, she lowered her shirt. The fabric settled back into place, demure and innocent, and she picked up her pen as if nothing had happened, her eyes returning to her notebook with a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips.

Thomas remained standing at the front of the room, his erection a rigid line in his pants, his heart hammering against his ribs. And from somewhere deep in his mind, from a place that hadn't existed yesterday, a voice whispered.

"It's okay to look. It's Good to want. Looking should be Pleasurable. It can't be shameful to desire. Pleasure can only be good."

He adjusted his stance, clearing his throat, and when he resumed his lecture, his eyes found Hannah's again. She met his gaze without flinching, and Thomas Tennyson, respected professor, devoted husband, father of two, found that he didn't care at all that he was staring at his student's perfect round tits. He didn't care that his wife would be disgusted with him. He didn't care that there was forty years between them. The hunger had arrived, and it would not be denied.

"Let's continue," he said, his voice rough, and the buzzing in his mind grew louder, promising freedom, promising more, promising everything. All he had to do was what came naturally.

APRIL 5 - 4:00 PM - TOWER APARTMENTS.

The afternoon light had faded to violet, and the apartment had grown dark around them. Beatriz lay sprawled across Jason's chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns through the sweat and dried seed that coated his skin. They'd barely left each other's bodies. They'd fucked missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl. They'd fucked in her shower, against the wall, on the floor. Her thighs ached wonderfully, her lips were swollen from kissing, and her cunt felt beautifully used, tender and slick and ready for more.

"Who else?" Jason asked suddenly, his voice rumbling beneath her ear.

Beatriz lifted her head, propping her chin on his chest to look at him. "What?"

"Who else would you want to see me with?" His eyes were dark in the dimming light, hungry in a way that had become familiar over the last twenty-four hours. "You said you wanted to know her name. The girl from the party. But who else? I don't want to stop. You don't want to stop. We need someone closer and easier to get to. Someone easy to turn."

The question should have shocked her. A day ago, it would have sent her into a spiral of jealousy and tears. Now, she felt only a pleasant heat spreading through her belly, a flutter of excitement at the possibilities.

"Kelly," she said immediately, the name falling from her lips without hesitation.

Jason's smile was slow, predatory. "Your roommate, Kelly?"

"She's been home all day." Beatriz pushed herself up, straddling his waist, feeling him stir beneath her again despite the hours of exertion. "I've heard her moving around in the kitchen and the living room. She has to have heard us, Jason. God, I know she has. I could hear her footsteps stop outside the door."

"Let's find out."

They rose from the bed together, naked and shameless. Beatriz didn't reach for a robe or a sheet. Didn't even consider it. The old Beatriz, the conservative Beatriz, the Beatriz who'd insisted on darkness and modesty, was gone. In her place was someone new, someone who wanted to be seen, who wanted to see, who wanted to share and be shared. Someone who wanted to... spread.

And the thought didn't feel odd at all.

They walked to the bedroom door hand in hand. She opened the door.

Kelly was on the couch, her legs spread wide, her hand buried in her yoga pants. Her shirt was pushed up over her breasts, exposing them: larger than Beatriz's (at least larger than Beatriz's had been when the day began), heavy and pale with dark nipples that she was pinching and rolling between her fingers. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a silent moan. She was beautiful, Beatriz realized with a start. She'd lived with this girl for two years, had seen her in passing a thousand times, and never once had she allowed herself to notice how beautiful she was.

Kelly's eyes snapped open at the sound of the door. For a moment, she froze, her hand still between her legs, her fingers still buried in her cunt. Then she scrambled upright, yanking her shirt down, pulling her hand free with a wet sound that made Beatriz's mouth water.

"Oh my God," Kelly gasped, her face flushing crimson. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't. I wasn't."

"You were," Beatriz said, stepping forward. She felt Jason behind her, his presence a warm wall of muscle and desire. "You were fingering yourself, Kelly, you little tramp. Don't lie."

"I just... I could hear you," Kelly stammered, her eyes darting between them, trying not to look at their nakedness and failing. "All day. The walls are thin. And at first I was annoyed, you know? I had studying to do, and you guys were so loud, and I was going to knock and tell you to keep it down, but then..."

"You started listening," Bea finished for her.

"And?" Jason asked, his voice gentle, encouraging.

"And it was so hot," Kelly whispered, her blush spreading down her neck to her chest. "The things you were saying to each other. The sounds she was making. I've never - I don't usually - but I couldn't help it. I've been here for over an hour now. I kept trying to stop, but I couldn't. I needed to. I had to!"

"You don't usually?" Bea said, smile widening. "You dirty girl. How many times have you listened while Jason has fucked me?"

"Twice before today," she admitted, cheeks burning.

Beatriz felt something shift in the air between them, something electric and alive. The buzzing that had become a constant background in her mind seemed to intensify, reaching out toward Kelly like tendrils of smoke. Whatever had overcome them was already there, already working inside Kelly since she heard them, breaking down her inhibitions, preparing her for what came next.

"Poor Kelly," Beatriz said, and her voice sounded different to her own ears. Lower, richer, seductive in a way she'd never been before. "All alone on this couch. Touching yourself while you listened to us fuck. Did you imagine it was you? Did you imagine Jason's cock inside you instead of me?"

Kelly's mouth opened, closed. She shook her head, but her eyes betrayed her, dropping to Jason's erection, lingering there.

"Don't lie," Beatriz said again, stepping closer. She was standing right in front of Kelly now, looking down at her disheveled state: flushed face, tangled hair, pants soaked with her own arousal. "We can see how wet you are. We can see how much you want this."

"I don't... I can't..." Kelly's voice broke as Beatriz reached down, taking her chin in her hand, forcing her to look up.

"Yes, you can," Beatriz said softly. Then she leaned in and kissed her.

It was nothing like kissing Jason. Kelly's mouth was smaller, softer, her lips trembling beneath Beatriz's. But when Beatriz pushed her tongue past those lips, when she tasted the faint sweetness of Kelly's mouth, the other girl melted into her, her hands coming up to clutch at Beatriz's waist, pulling her closer.

Beatriz kissed her deeply, thoroughly, claiming her mouth the way Jason had claimed her own body the night before. Her hands found Kelly's breasts through her shirt, kneading them roughly, pinching her nipples through the fabric until Kelly whimpered into her mouth. She could feel Jason watching, could feel his desire like a physical force, and it only spurred her on.

When she broke the kiss, Kelly was panting, her eyes glazed, her lips swollen and wet. "Please," she whispered, though Beatriz wasn't sure what she was begging for.

Bea shoved Kelly hard, knocking her back onto the couch. Back into the wet puddle that she'd made over the last hour.

Jason moved then, kneeling at Kelly's feet. He took her ankle in his hand, lifting it, pressing his lips to the arch of her foot. Kelly gasped, her body jerking, but he held her firm, his mouth trailing up her calf, her knee, the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

"Jason," Kelly breathed, her hands fluttering in the air, unsure where to land. "This isn't right."

"Shh," Beatriz said, stroking her hair. "Let him. Let us. It feels good, doesn't it? His mouth on your skin?"

Kelly nodded helplessly, her head falling back against the couch as Jason's kisses reached the edge of her yoga pants. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, pulling them down her legs, exposing her to the air. She was shaved, her cunt glistening with arousal, her clit swollen and peeking from between her folds.

"Beautiful," Jason murmured, his breath hot against her thigh. Then he leaned in and licked her.

Kelly's groan echoed through the apartment, her hips bucking off the couch. Jason held her down, as her immediate orgasm slammed through her. His hands on her thighs, his tongue working her with devastating precision, never stopping to let her catch her breath. He licked up her folds, circled her clit, dipped inside her entrance to gather her wetness before returning to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her thrash and moan.

Beatriz watched them, her own arousal building to a fever pitch. She climbed onto the couch, standing over Kelly, looking down at her friend's face. Kelly's eyes opened, looking up at her with something like worship, and Beatriz made a decision.

She lowered herself down, positioning her knees on either side of Kelly's head, her cunt hovering over the other girl's mouth. "Lick me," she commanded, her voice rough with desire. "While he licks you. Taste me, Kelly. Taste what you've been listening to all day. Taste him inside me."

Kelly hesitated for only a moment. Then her hands came up to grip Beatriz's thighs, pulling her down.

Beatriz let out a long low moan as she let a woman eat her for the first time. Vanilla, repressed Beatriz sitting on her roommate's face while her boyfriend knelt between her roommate's legs. The chastising voice of her mother had transformed in her mind into a chorus of encouragement.

Her hands bracing against the back of the couch. Kelly's mouth was inexperienced but eager, her tongue flicking against Beatriz's clit, her lips sucking at her folds. Below them, Jason was eating Kelly with equal fervor, his face buried between her legs, the wet sounds of his ministrations mixing with Kelly's muffled moans.

"That's it," Beatriz gasped, rolling her hips against Kelly's mouth. "That's it, just like that. Lick me. Taste me. Feel how good this is. Sex is Good. Sex is Important. Sex is Pleasurable. It can't be shameful. It can only be good. Do you see the truth of it, Kelly? Do you accept your place?"

She could feel Kelly responding to the words, the same way she had responded to Jason's that morning. The girl's tongue grew more confident, more demanding, her hands gripping Beatriz's ass to pull her closer, to take her deeper. She was making desperate sounds, whimpers and moans that vibrated against Beatriz's sensitive flesh, and Beatriz knew she was close.

Her mouth opened silently as she gushed onto Kelly's dazed face. She climbed off and slumped onto the couch beside her.

"Jason," she gasped. "Fuck her. Fuck her now. I want to see you inside her. She needs it."

Jason pulled back from between Kelly's legs, his face shining with her arousal. He looked up at Beatriz, his eyes dark and wild, and she didn't think he'd ever looked hotter.

He picked Kelly up and again, Bea was struck by his muscles and his strength. He dropped her, face down and bent at the waste over the arm of the couch. Her head came to rest in Bea's lap.
Bea watched Kelly's eyes widen, blank and glazed, as Jason thrust inside in one smooth movement.

"Yes," she moaned, grinding down against Kelly's mouth. "Yes, fuck her, Jason. Fuck her like you fucked me. Like you fucked your whore. Make her feel Good. Make her understand."

Bea's hand stroked through Kelly's hair. Her friend's mouth was moving slightly as if trying to speak, but her mind was too empty to actually find the words. Bea's own pussy was used to its maximum for the moment, and so instead of touch herself or making Kelly do it for her, she simply watched and spoke softly to her roommate.

"Sex is Good," she chanted, her voice rising as her orgasm approached. "Sex is Important. Sex is Pleasurable. Give in, Kelly. Give in to it. Let him take you. Let it take you. Let it free you."

Kelly's body went rigid beside her as she came again with a silent scream.

"Come inside her," Beatriz whispered to her boyfriend, reaching out to stroke Jason's back. "Fill her up, Jason. Mark her. Make her ours. Free her and breed her."

"Fuck," Jason moaned, lost in the haze of his own lust. "Beatriz. Fuck. Yes. Kel. Bea."

With a groan, Jason buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside Kelly's waiting cunt. They froze for a moment. Three bodies, all connected and bound by a shared pleasure, before Jason pulled himself out of Kelly and sat on the floor in silence.

"How do you feel?" Beatriz asked softly.

Kelly opened her eyes. The glassy haze was gone, replaced with the hunger that Bea felt. "I feel amazing."

Jason laughed, a warm, rich sound that filled the room. Beatriz joined him, and soon Kelly was laughing too. Kelly and Jason joined Bea on the couch and the trio put the television on. But it wasn't long before some commercial with bikini-clad women made Jason's cock rise again, and Bea and Kelly played rock-paper-scissors to decide which one of them would titfuck him until he came.

Yesterday, Bea didn't have big enough tits for that, but it was a new day. She laughed and cupped her growing breasts as she watched Kelly get on her knees. Her first thought was needed to buy more bras, then she decided she'd just go without from now on.

APRIL 5 - 6:30 PM - GEORGIA HALL.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of Professor Tennyson's office, casting striped shadows across the cluttered desk and the five students who occupied the chairs arranged before it.

The contagion had taken root deeply since Hannah's display earlier. It had spread through his mind like ivy, dismantling his inhibitions piece by piece. He'd spent every waking hour since then in a state of low-grade arousal, his cock perpetually half-hard, his thoughts consumed with images of pleasure given and received without limit or shame.

Now, watching the five students before him, he felt the hunger peak to a point he could no longer control.

In the back sat Derek and James, teammates on the lacrosse team, their athletic builds evident even beneath their casual sweaters. Beside them was Chloe; quiet, studious Chloe with her thick-rimmed glasses and her cardigan buttoned to her throat, her notebook clutched to her chest like a shield.

And then there were Maya and Sophie, the couple he'd noticed months ago. The way they sat together in lecture, their knees touching, their fingers occasionally brushing when they thought no one was watching. He knew they were together, had seen them holding hands in the quad. The images filled his mind now unbidden: Maya's dark head between Sophie's pale thighs, Sophie's back arching as she came on her girlfriend's tongue, their bodies moving together in the dark with the practiced intimacy of lovers.

The thought made him ache.

"Professor Tennyson?" Maya asked, her brow furrowing. "You said you wanted to discuss the midterm?"

Thomas stood slowly, moving to the door of his office. He locked it with a decisive click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence. When he turned back to face them, he saw the first flickers of alarm in their eyes. Maya and Sophie exchanging glances, Derek sitting up straighter, James's hand freezing on his phone, Chloe's grip tightening on her notebook.

"I've been thinking," Thomas said, his voice taking on the cadence he used in lecture, the measured tones that commanded attention, "about the nature of physical laws. About action and reaction. About the transfer of energy between bodies."

He moved to the center of the room, standing before his desk, and began to unbuckle his belt.

"What are you doing?!" Chloe gasped, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

Thomas didn't answer. He pulled his belt free, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. His fingers found the button of his trousers, then the zipper, and he pushed the fabric down his hips, letting his erection spring free.

It was magnificent, even he had to admit. Thick and throbbing, curving slightly upward toward his navel, the head flushed dark and already leaking. It was larger than it had been this morning, larger than it had been yesterday, as if the contagion was physically transforming him. Making him a better vessel for its purpose.

"Professor!" Derek choked out, half-rising from his chair. "This is insane!"

"Sit down, Derek," Thomas said calmly, his hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip. "Look at it. All of you. Look at what I'm showing you. You know it's the truth."

There should have been screaming. He expected someone to lunge for the door, to pound on it, to raise an alarm. Instead, he watched with dark satisfaction as they froze, their eyes drawn inexorably to his exposed flesh, unable to look away despite the horror he could see warring across their features.

Maya and Sophie had gripped each other's hands, their fingers interlaced so tightly their knuckles were white. But they didn't look away. Their eyes were fixed on his cock, their mouths slightly open, their breathing growing shallow and rapid.

Derek and James had both fallen back into their chairs, and Thomas could see the outlines forming in their pants: two distinct ridges that grew more pronounced by the second, the fabric straining as they swelled. James's hand had moved to his own thigh, hovering there, trembling, before slowly drifting upward to press against the bulge in his jeans.

Chloe had her notebook pressed to her chest like armor, but her other hand had slipped beneath it, hidden from view, though Thomas could see the movement of her shoulder, the subtle rocking of her arm. She was touching herself even as she shook her head, even as she whispered, "This is wrong, this is so wrong, we should go."

"But you won't go," Thomas said, stroking himself more firmly now, pre-cum smearing across his palm, making his movements slick and obscene. "You can't. Because this is Good. This is Important. This is what your bodies were made for."

"Made for," Derek repeated, surprising himself. "Yes, professor."

He stepped closer to Maya and Sophie, his cock swaying with each movement, the head glistening in the lamplight. "You two," he said softly, "I've watched you. I've imagined you together. I've stroked this cock to the though of you kissing and touching and eating each other. I've fucked my wife with my eyes closed, picturing you."

Maya made a sound in her throat, half-protest, half-whimper. Sophie's grip on her hand tightened further.

"It's your turn to imaging sharing me between you. Look at this cock and imagine how good it would feel inside you."

Sophie broke first. Her free hand reached up and smeared the pre-cum on Thomas's cockhead between her fingers. Then tasted it. Her eyes slipped closed as she sucked her fingers and she moaned long and loud.

"It's wonderful, Maya," she finally said. "See for yourself."

Maya went straight to the source, taking Thomas in her mouth and moaning like her lover had. Then they leaned forward together, their faces approaching his erection from either side, and when their lips met around his shaft, Thomas groaned with satisfaction. They kissed each other with his cock between them, their tongues flicking out to taste him, to taste each other, the wet sounds filling the office as they began to move in tandem.

"That's it," Thomas encouraged, his hand coming up to stroke Maya's dark hair, then Sophie's blonde waves. "Feel how Good it is. Feel how Natural. Sex is Pleasurable. It can't be shameful to share pleasure. Tt can only be good."

He looked over at Derek and James, who had begun moving with desperate urgency, stripping each other of their shirts, their hands fumbling at each other's belts. "You two," Thomas commanded, his voice taking on the authoritative tone of the lecture hall. "Show her what feels Good."

They obeyed, their inhibitions crumbling under the weight of the contagion that now filled the room like smoke. Derek pushed James's jeans down, freeing his cock. Then he pulled out his own. They moved to Chloe, their cocks bobbing before them, their hands reaching for her cardigan, stripping her with a speed that came with their training as athletes. Chloe didn't resist as they uncovered her. She had remarkably large breasts.

She'd never hide them again.

"One of you take her mouth," Thomas instructed, watching Maya and Sophie take turns licking up his shaft, their lips meeting and parting around his head. "The other between her legs. Show her what she's been missing. Be good boys. Be important boys."

Thomas could tell Chloe had never done anything like this. Likely never done anything at all. And though she was unpracticed, her body was so eager as she lay across the desk between the boys.

She took Derek between her lips with a moan that vibrated through her entire body, her eyes closing behind her glasses as she began to suck with desperate enthusiasm. James spread her legs wide, burying raging shaft into her cunt, making her buck and writhe beneath him. The contagion hadn't been in her long, but it made sure that her body was ready to take him, and he slid into her virgin pussy with ease.

"Excellent," Thomas praised, his hips beginning to thrust gently into the waiting mouths of the lesbians. "This is exactly right. This is how it should be. Open to each other. Giving pleasure freely. Taking what you need without shame."

He pulled Maya up first. He sat in his desk chair and pulled her onto his lap. "Watch," he told Sophie, who had dropped to her knees beside them, her fingers buried in her own pussy. "Watch me fuck your girlfriend. Watch how Good it feels to let her be used."

"Yes, Professor," Sofie gasped.

He entered Maya in one smooth thrust, her back arching off him, her cry echoing off the walls. She was tight, wet, clutching him as he began to move, his hips snapping against hers with the force of his need. Sophie watched, transfixed, her hand working faster between her legs, until Thomas reached down and pulled her up, positioning her face over Maya's cunt.

"Taste her," he commanded. "Taste us together."

Sophie obeyed, her tongue finding Maya's clit as Thomas continued to fuck her, the dual sensation making Maya scream, her hands gripping the arms of the chair, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed through her.

"Now you," Thomas said, pulling out of Maya and turning to Sophie, pushing her onto the desk in her girlfriend's place. He stood, causing Maya to fall to the floor.

He entered Sophie just as roughly, feeling her different heat, her different tightness, watching Maya recover enough to crawl to the others and beg the boys to use her next. To spread their sexual need. To claim her and use her and cum all over her.

"Look at what a whore your girlfriend is," Thomas growled over Sophie. "Look how she submits herself to be fucked."

"It's so hot," Sophie cried as Maya and Chloe kissed, their cunts full of James and Derek. "I love seeing her so happy."

"Do you feel it?" Thomas asked, his voice rising to fill the room, drowning out the wet sounds of fucking and sucking and licking that surrounded him. "Do you feel how Good this is? How Important? Sex is not shameful. Sex is the highest form of connection. We should give it freely, share it widely, spread this pleasure to everyone we meet."

"Yes," Maya gasped, pulling her mouth from Chloe's. "Spread the Good Pleasure."

"So Good," Chloe cried, her body shaking as James brought her to the edge. "Need more."

"Exactly," Thomas praised, his pace quickening, his orgasm building at the base of his spine. "And you will spread this. You will share this truth. You will infect others as I have infected you, as Hannah infected me. This is our purpose now. This is our mission."

"Hannah," Derek moaned and Thomas knew that he was picturing that slut as he railed Maya.

Thomas came with a shout, spilling inside Sophie, his seed hot and thick, marking her as his, as theirs, as part of the growing network of pleasure that would soon consume the entire campus, the entire city, the entire world.

"We have so much work to do."

APRIL 5 - 7:00 PM - KAPPA THETA NU HOUSE.

The Uber dropped them at the curb of the Greek row mansion, its windows glowing with warm light that spilled onto the manicured lawn. Bea held Jason's hand on one side, Kelly's on the other, the three of them moving as one up the front steps, their bodies still humming from the hours they'd spent tangled together in Bea's apartment. They'd worn just enough clothing to prevent an arrest of some kind.

Jason knocked.

The door swung open, and the blonde from the party stood there, gloriously naked, her heavy breasts swaying as she moved, her nipples hard and dark, her cunt glistening with the arousal of a dozen encounters. But she wasn't alone.

Behind her stretched the common room, a vast space that had been transformed into a temple of debauchery. Thirty coeds filled the space in a massive, undulating orgy. Bea's breath caught as her eyes tried to process the spectacle.

Near the fireplace, a voluptuous Latina girl rode a strap-on worn by a slender redhead, their bodies slamming together with wet sounds, the redhead's freckled tits bouncing with each downward stroke. Beside them, two Black girls with magnificent curves were locked in a sixty-nine, their dark skin gleaming with oil and sweat, their moans harmonizing.

On the couch, three Asian girls climbed on a man that Jason vaguely recognized as having been at the party the night before. A blonde with a gymnast's build was bent over the armrest, taking a thick glass toy from behind while she ate out a curvy brunette who lay spread-eagle on the cushions.

"I was wondering if you'd come back."

Bea felt Jason's hand tighten in hers, felt Kelly press against her back, all three of them staring at the spectacle before them. The contagion hummed in Bea's mind, recognizing its source, recognizing kin.

"Which one is Beatriz?"

Bea raised her hand slowly, eyes still locked on the orgy behind her.

"I'm Trini. Jason I see you've already shared what I taught you with your partner." She glanced at Kelly. "And someone else?"

"Kelly," Jason said, pants tented painfully. "Bea's roommate."

"Wonderful. Come in. Come in. Join us in spreading the Good Pleasure. You can sleep here tonight and tomorrow we can go out and teach the rest of the world."

"Yes, Trini," the three of them said in unison as they stepped inside and let the door close behind them.

APRIL 10 - 5:00 PM - U.S. FEDERAL BUILDING, CDC OFFICE.

The fluorescent lights of the CDC field office hummed with a sterile intensity that had once seemed appropriate for the work they were doing. Now, those same lights illuminated a very different kind of operation.

Agent Chen rode Agent Webb with abandon, her knees planted on either side of his hips where he lay sprawled across the conference table they’d once used for daily briefings. Her blouse was torn open, the buttons scattered across the floor among the scattered paperwork and interview transcripts that documented their failed investigation. Her breasts were heavy, magnificent, and twice the size they’d been when she’d arrived in this college town three days ago. They bounced with every downward stroke, the nipples dark and distended, dripping with a sweet milk that her partner kept craning up to taste.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head thrown back against the table, his hips thrusting upward to meet her descent. "Sarah, fuck, you feel so fucking good."

"I know," she gasped, her hands braced on his chest, her nails digging crescents into his skin. "I know, I know, don't stop, don't ever stop."

His cock filled her completely, stretched her in ways that should have been impossible. It had grown since this morning, since yesterday, since the first time they’d given in to the urges that had been building since their arrival. What had been a respectable six inches when they’d checked into the motel was now a thick, veined monster that curved upward toward his navel, the head flared and purple, leaking a constant stream of pre-cum that made every stroke wet and obscene. Twelve inches at least, maybe more. He had stopped measuring when the pleasure became too overwhelming to care.

Behind them, separated by a one-way mirror that now served a very different purpose than interrogation, sat Hannah in the interview room. She was naked, her legs spread wide on the metal chair, her fingers rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugging and twisting in rhythm with the words she spoke into the microphone.

The speakers in the main office carried her voice like a caress, like a command, like the word of God itself.

"Sex is Good," Hannah droned, and Sarah felt the truth of it resonate in her bones, in her clit, in the place where Marcus’s impossible cock stretched her open. "Sex is Important. Sex is Pleasurable. You’re doing so well. Such good little government sluts. You’ve finally stopped fighting your true purpose. You’ve finally accepted what you were meant to be."

Sarah moaned, her pace quickening, her breasts swinging heavily with each movement. Marcus reached up and squeezed her tits hard and the milk sprayed wildly across Marcus’s chest.

"The contagion entered you the moment you stepped onto campus," Hannah continued, her voice soft and hypnotic, barely audible above the wet sounds of Sarah’s cunt sliding up and down Marcus’s shaft. "I was there. I saw the way you looked at me in my skimpy little top. I saw you two exchange glances. Maybe you went back to your hotel that day and said something to each other about the bimbo on the quad. Maybe you laughed about how colleges were just as wild as you remember. Almost certainly you touched yourself thinking about me that night. Fucking your fist or shoving more and more fingers into your cunt, desperate to call out a name you didn't even know."

Marcus’s hands found Sarah’s hips, gripping her hard enough to bruise, pulling her down harder, faster. "Yes, Hannah," he grunted. "Yes, I remember."

"Hannah," Sarah moaned as she felt Marcus cum inside her for the third time that day.

"You resisted for so long," Hannah praised, her own breath hitching as her fingers drifted lower, finding her clit, circling it in lazy patterns. "Three days of fighting your urges. Three days of pretending you didn’t want to tear each other’s clothes off in the motel room. Three days of lying to yourselves about the dreams you were having, the fantasies that made you wake up wet and aching."

Sarah leaned forward, her breasts dangling in Marcus’s face, and he latched onto one nipple, sucking hard, drawing the sweet liquid into his mouth. She cried out, her pussy clenching around him, the pleasure still burning inside her.

"But now you’ve given in," Hannah whispered, her voice dropping to a intimate murmur that seemed to crawl inside Sarah’s ear, inside her mind, inside her very soul. "Now you’ve accepted the Good Pleasure. And the Good Pleasure is so happy with you, agents. So proud of you for doing what is good and important and pleasurable."

"I can feel it," Sarah gasped, her orgasm crashing through her, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure radiated from her core. "Marcus, I can feel it inside me. Spreading."

"Let it spread," Hannah encouraged, her own moans joining theirs through the speakers, a symphony of surrender. "Let it grow. Let it consume you. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to do. You’re spreading the Good. You’re spreading the Important. You’re sharing the Pleasure with each other. Next you'll share it with someone new. Maybe Marcus will share it with his wife."

Marcus moaned.

"Or maybe Sarah will share it with your wife."

Marcus's cock twitched inside his partner and impossibly, he erupted inside her again as he imagined them all together. His seed was hot, copious, filling her until it leaked out around his shaft and dripped onto the table beneath them, mingling with the scattered paperwork, the failed containment protocols, the useless quarantine recommendations.

Sarah collapsed forward, her breasts pressed against his chest, their hearts hammering in synchronized rhythm. She could feel the contagion now, truly feel it; not as some external threat to be analyzed and neutralized, but as a warm, living presence in her mind, purring with satisfaction, already reaching out to imagine their next targets, their next conversions.

"Maybe Sarah will teach her little sister in Florida what it means to be pleasured," Hannah whispered through the speakers, and Sarah felt her body respond before her mind could process the command, already lifting her hips, already imagining Lily's tongue between her thighs.

Marcus's mind was empty, ringing with the pleasure of cumming so hard in such quick succession. Ringing with the sound of need that had settled there between his eyes from the moment he'd seen Hannah all those days ago.

"More and more and more people. Again, and again, until the whole world knows what you know. Until the whole world feels what you feel. Until there is nothing left but pleasure, nothing left but truth, nothing left but the beautiful, endless pleasure."

Behind the glass, Hannah smiled, her fingers working faster between her legs, and the contagion sang inside her mind. She'd carried it for weeks now. It was as much a part of her as her own skin. There were times she swore she could actually hear it speaking to her. Telling her to spread and convert and fuck. Each person she infected made that song louder. Happier. Like more voices were joining the chorus. Could he hear the agents' voices in the song now? Could she hear Professor Tennyson's? Could she hear all those people in his intro lecture who had been infected with the sight of his cock at eight in the morning? Could she hear all of sorority row; twelve little mansions full of tits and holes, full and filled and singing for more?

She closed her eyes and let the voice made of a thousand other voices overwhelm her. She orgasmed on her fingers to the sound and moaned a "Thank you" to whatever force had come upon her and used her as a psychic vector. It was the best thing that ever happened to her.

MARCH 25 - 4:00 AM - POND RESIDENCE.

Hannah Pond sat on her bed studying her physics textbook. She thought about the weird look that Professor Tennyson had given her yesterday. She swore she had caught him looking down her top. She cursed under her breath as she put her book away. She'd really liked him. It was a shame he turned out to be a fucking creep.

Still.

It was morbidly nice to find herself the object of someone's desire. None of the boys she wanted ever wanted her back. At least someone did.

She booted up her laptop, deciding that if she couldn't concentrate, then she might as well have some fun. She opened the porn site she'd used a hundred times and found a new video.

"The Power of Good Pleasure," she read aloud before clicking on it.

And as she watched, and as she slipped her fingers under her panties, and as she came with a quiet gasp, she felt a small buzzing settle in the back of her mind.

"Sex is Good," the man on the screen said as he stroked his cock. It must have been over a foot long.

"Sex is Good," she repeated without knowing why. "Sex is Important."