Lust Lessons

By Lyka Bloom

Noelle, a plain college student with a sharp intellect, finds herself drawn into a web of maternal seduction and transformation as the new professor, the fiery-haired Calista Cross, uses her wiles to seduce and corrupt Noelle and her friends.

Fair warning: Contains lactation, transformation and numerous explicit scenes of sexuality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyka Bloom
• Release date: Sep 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301560134

Lyka Bloom

Lyka Bloom writes various forms of fiction, but erotica has become a new passion. She preferstransformations and games of control, and enjoys exploring all the perverse kinks bubbling beneath the surface of sexuality.

Book preview

Lust Lessons

by Lyka Bloom

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

LUST LESSONS

First Edition. September 12, 2013 at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2013 Lyka Bloom

Written by Lyka Bloom

www.lykabloom.com

Chapter One: The New Professor

You never want to do anything fun, Cassie chided, then pursed her lips and applied a fiery red color to her lips. I swear, you are letting life pass you by.

A little bit of sacrifice today reaps rewards tomorrow, my father always says.

Your father, pardon my French, is fucking boring, Cassie said, stepping back from the mirror and appraising her work. Noelle could see her through the open door of the bedroom and into the bathroom where Cassie was fussing with her wildly curly hair, deciding whether to wear her long chestnut hair up or over her shoulders.

He's also rich, Noelle countered, the only defense that seemed to penetrate Cassie's frequent criticisms of Noelle's social life.

They had been thrust together their freshman year of college, strangers who drew each other out of the dorm lottery. From the first night, when Cassie had tried to drag Noelle to some fraternity party that was being held in honor of the incoming freshman girls, it was clear that Noelle was a studious and serious girl and Cassie would have to play the role of the party girl always looking for her new friend to loosen up a little. They were roles that suited them and they played them well.

Noelle stretched in her chair, her small breasts flattening as she bent back. She made no secret of the fact that she thought Cassie had the better figure, if a bit more voluptuous than modern tastes tended. Her breasts, unlike Noelle's, were full and almost matched her slightly-too-fat rear and thick hips and thighs. She wasn't grossly overweight, but she had tucked a few pounds away in the cushiony parts of her body in a way that made her seem soft and sexual instead of merely obese.

Cassie stepped into Noelle's room fully dressed now, black heels with a silver chain, a heart dangling from the ankle straps, black nylons with a diamond pattern that made her legs appear eminently touchable, a tight skirt that showed off the roundness and heft of her bottom and a red scoop-neck blouse that showed her cleavage in a thoroughly tantalizing way. Noelle smiled at her appreciatively.

Look out boys, Cassie's coming, Cassie laughed, tossing her arms over her head and cocking her leg to strike a pose.

Very sexy, Noelle agreed. You know if I wasn't in thesis hell I would come.

No you wouldn't, Cassie said, closing the distance between them to hug her roommate, but I love you anyways. Enjoy your studying while I enjoy some stud-in-me.

Oh! That's horrible, and not just because it's dirty.

See? This is why I need you. Last chance, sure you don't want to come?

I'm sure.

Okay, don't wait up, then. Cassie paused at the doorway and leaned back inside the bedroom. And if you hear the sounds of passion in the wee hours of the morning, it's just me celebrating my sexual freedoms with one, maybe two guys from the Kappa house.

Just don't let your orgy guests eat my yogurt.

No promises... Cassie faded away down the hall and Noelle heard the front door open and close. With a shake of her head and a smile, she began poring over the psychology papers she was hoping to synthesize and elaborate on as a proper rebuttal of the notion of multiple personality disorders. It had largely been discarded in the past decade as a diagnosis, but much of the established psychological community still leaned on it as a crutch for particularly fraudulent or particularly difficult diagnoses. Noelle imagined herself being the vanguard of a new age of psychological understanding, where old misunderstandings made way for newer treatments.

Flush with ambition and determination, she read, she noted and, sometimes after midnight, she fell asleep.

When she woke, it was almost four in the morning, the sky not even pre-dawn gray yet. She lifted her face from the photocopied article on the misdiagnosis of schizophrenia, one sheet travelling upwards with her cheek before tearing free.

She heard the sound of the television in the living room and followed the sound and bright, flickering light, her flannel pants and baggy white tee loose on her frame. Cassie had fallen asleep on the couch again, her heels piled beside the couch, legs curled beneath her and the ratty green blanket that lived on the back of the couch pulled down over her shoulders.

Noelle turned the television off and lifted the still half-folded blanket off Cassie, whipping it out to spread it more completely over her roommate. She stroked her hair back from her face as Cassie nuzzled into the plush arm of the sofa, settling back into alcohol-induced sleep with a smack of her lips and a content sigh, followed by steady breathing.

She made her way to the kitchen, using the refrigerator light to guide her as she poured a glass of milk and leaned against the sink, tying her shoulder length sandy blonde hair back into a tight ponytail with one of the scrunchies the kitchen somehow collected over the course of the week. Noelle wondered what life would be like in Cassie's shoes, a familiar line of personal inquiry, but she liked imagining that she and Cassie were both carefree and magnetic party girls with no other cares in the world.

As she drank her milk, she wondered if one could intentionally create a personality distinct from the individual, a sort of get-out-of-jail-free persona that allowed a different attitude and demeanor to manifest without affecting the core personality. As she tugged at the threads of the notion, she realized that her interest wasn't in the debunking of multiple personalities after all, but, rather, the manufacturing of it. She tried to remember research on the subject, but could think of none outside chronic abuse scenarios where personalities were constructed as defense mechanisms, but she could not recall an intentionally-constructed personality used as a sort of surrogate life. The notion followed her back to bed, where she pulled and tugged at it before drifting into sleep.

In her dreams, she was molding a form out of clay – herself, she knew, but a Noelle made more perfect by her own hands.

How are you feeling? she asked, lifting Cassie's feet and slipping beneath before dropping them into her lap. Noelle leaned over the still-stockinged feet for the remote on the end table and turned the television on.

Ugh, Cassie groaned, what time is it?

"Just past noon. I thought you might want