Val the Vamp Ch. 02

College -- West Lafayette, IN

I decided to go away to college. Greg Gibbons and Suresh were pursuing me, and it took all that I had in me to fence both of them off. I couldn't handle having two lovers at the same time, and if I chose one over the other, the one not chosen would be emotionally destroyed. The solution was obvious: I chose nobody, and had a nice, chaste period before heading off to college.

I decided to make a new start at college. I chose Purdue University for four reasons. It was a good school, with an engineering focus, and I wanted that; it was in Indiana, far away from Southern California, which is where I grew up, and therefore far away from anyone I knew; I got a scholarship, something rare for out-of-state students, so it was affordable; I liked that Purdue had 57% male students and 43% female students, a ratio that appealed to me!

I was still in love with Jason Jones, but he had left me behind, and was dating scores of other girls. Jason got into Cal Tech. I had applied also to all of Cal Tech, MIT, Carnegie-Mellon, and Cornell Engineering, but I didn't make any of their cuts. Purdue was one of the top-rated engineering school and it admitted me, and what's more I got a scholarship!

Most of all, however, like Cornell, Purdue also had a world-class agriculture school, and there was a professor there, Professor Blut Trinkhaus, who was a renowned expert on the blood of animals. It may not be too surprising that I was interested in blood.

More than just blood, however, I was interested in what blood did to my mind: All of the times when I had feasted on Jason's blood, Greg's blood, and Suresh's blood, something had happened. My mind had felt quite strange, but in an extremely pleasant way, and I could see things other people could not, such as -- for example -- when I knew that Greg's blood was type AB, and Suresh's blood was type O. The hospital technicians confirmed I was right, before they did the transfusions.

Seeing blood types for no reason whatsoever was child's play for my mind, when it was high on a meal of fresh blood. I felt as if there were few things I couldn't do. If I knew some advanced math, I probably could have solved an open problem, or two. With enough blood, I felt as if I could have brokered a peace in the Middle East, or convinced Putin of Russia to cancel the invasion of Ukraine. I saw the effects of global climate change in my eyes. It was stunning. It was amazing. It was thrilling. It was, most of all, overwhelming. Obviously, I was bat-shit crazy. I knew I was crazy, too. Bat-shit crazy.

Yes, yes, yes, of course. Of course, I had read every story, book, treatise, even jokes about vampires, both the bats and the supposed humans. I knew it was all fiction, really all fiction, except for the bats. However, fiction that persists over time likely has a grain of truth to it, or so I told myself. I found the works on Vampire Bats to be the most interesting, since they were true.

Vampire bats had a natural deficiency of various items needed to live, and blood, most any blood (birds, fish, mammals), provided those items and let them live. Denying blood to a vampire bat for even three days would lead to their death. Thank goodness I was not dependent on sucking out people's blood in order to live.

No, for me, blood provided other things, qualities I had yet to figure out enough, even to name them. I knew, however, that they were there, when I was high on a meal of fresh blood. It also seemed to be connected to sex, and more intriguing, to me having an orgasm during copulation. Solo masturbation had no effect. That was troubling.

I had gone shopping before college. I needed some special clothes for my clandestine campaign. I signed up for Professor Trinkhaus' class, using my pre-enrollment materials, even though I did not yet have the prerequisites for the class. For example, a few of the key prerequisites were an intro to biochemistry, an intro to calculus, and basic (post calculus) statistics.

The computer kicked me out of the class, because I did not have the prerequisites. No problem, I contacted my old friend and lover Greg Gibbons, who was ensconced at Cornell Engineering, and who was some kind of computer whiz. He hacked into the Purdue administration's program and I was allowed to register, but he could get me only on the wait list for the class. He couldn't get me directly into the class, however, because the classroom was full. I knew I now owed Greg a favor. I had some vague idea of what he would want for the favor.

I'd have to pay him back during the first vacation when I went home. I knew that, and he knew that, and Cherry Hill knew that. Indeed, I could almost see Cherry Hill, awaiting us in all of its glory.

Thanks to Greg's efforts, I was put fifth on the waiting list, amongst 120 other wait-list students.

With a little research, I learned that if he had a good reason, the professor could sign me into the class, wait-list or not. My randomly assigned adviser suggested I attend the first few lectures, and then ask to be let in, just before the deadline to add classes. "Make sure he notices you amongst the 85 attending students," my adviser added. Maximum class size was 85, since that was the number of chairs (all bolted to the floor) in the classroom. He explained that a lot of students shop around for classes the first two weeks, and a large chunk, maybe even all, of the wait list will eventually be admitted.

That seemed like a good strategy, and I decided to implement it. Dr. Blut Trinkhaus was married, and there was no evidence he fooled around, especially not with students! That was a major no-no. Or, as Dr. Trinkhaus was wont to say, it was strictly verboten.

I had to give Dr. Trinkhaus a reason to sign me into his class. I knew he wouldn't fool around with me, but maybe nevertheless he liked to look, and to fantasize? I figured that was my best chance. Each day I attended his lectures I got to class early so that I could sit in the front row. The first day, I wore my new push-up bra, and my new blouse with major décolletage. I made sure to sit in the front row. At one point I dropped my pen, and bent over to retrieve it, giving him an excellent, free, down-look; if he chose to take it. My new friend Marsha Simpson told me he definitely took the look. That was Monday.

On Wednesday it was unseasonably cold, so I wore my new miniskirt, along with a long coat that completely covered me up. Getting to the room early, to grab the same front row seat I used on Monday, I casually removed my coat, giving the effect (I hoped) of being comprised of nothing but my long, shapely legs. Dr. Trinkhaus stole numerous glances at my legs during the lecture. Even I could tell. I just smiled.

On Friday, I upped the ante by going without a bra, but wore the same blouse as Monday with its deep décolletage. I once again bent over to retrieve a dropped pen, and Dr. Trinkhaus once again took the look. My guess is he might even have seen my nipples.

I gilded the lily, by winning over the TA of the class, via a long visit to his office while not wearing my bra. The number of down-looks the rather tall TA took was so numerous that I lost count. In my calculus class it would have been called uncountable, hee, hee.

When I went to Dr. Trinkhaus' office hours to beg admission to his class, to my surprise, he grilled me on my knowledge of blood! He didn't know who he was dealing with. I had been reading about blood all summer.

"What percentage of body weight does blood constitute?" Dr. Trinkhaus asked me.

"Eight percent," came my quick reply.

"What percent of blood is red blood cells?" he asked.

"Ninety-nine percent," I replied, smiling and winking with my reply. These were easy questions.

Then he sent me to the blackboard and asked me to sketch the chemical composition of hemoglobin. "Don't forget to show the double bonds," he added. I smiled and drew the composition. I was prepared.

"What is the Rhesus factor?" he asked. I gave him the answer, and did not joke around by mentioning monkeys. Then he asked a trick question. I knew it was trick question, since I could detect the twinkle in his eye.

"What is the function of the Rh factor?" he asked, for his trick question.

"It's to keep me from marrying Greg Gibbons," I quipped. "If we were to want children, that is."

"Okay, Ms. Vickers, I'll admit you to the class. However, while I have enjoyed your outrageous manner of dress up to now, henceforth please dress more conventionally. This is Indiana, not Southern California, after all. I find your current style of dress distracting, and I'm trying to give good lectures," he said, and this was the first thing he said that surprised me.

"Of course. I'll be the coed in the baggy sweatshirt and leggings, okay?" I replied, with a smile that probably went from my right ear to my left ear. I was in the class!

My outrageous manner of dress for Dr. Trinkhaus' lectures did go unobserved by some of the other students, of course. There were a few upper class-men who were clearly interested in taking me out for a spin. I responded to their efforts to chat me up in true Southern Californian bimbo-speak. Their interest peaked. I don't think I had ever batted my (naturally long) eyelashes so much in my entire life.

The men were all competing for my attention. I was flattered; boys had never competed for me before, except for that one time in high school after Jason Jones had laid the ice queen (me), and they all knew I had put out. Greg Gibbons won that competition; pity that his blood tasted so foul, but his computer skills had surely come in handy! Then there was the unfortunate incident at the cheap motel, with the Motel Boy, Suresh. I had never thought, in a million years, that I would have a threesome and even be spit roasted!

It didn't take a million years, however; only eighteen.

As I looked back at my threesome in the cheap motel, I was horrified I had done it, and I was disgusted with myself, and hoped to God nobody would ever find out about it. Deep down, however, I knew the truth: The memory of it turned me on.

Now, all of a sudden, I had three suitors. I proposed we all go somewhere for a coffee. The alpha suitor, Darrell, suggested we go for a drink, instead of coffee. "I'm only eighteen," I said.

"Have a mocktail," Darrell replied. "Anyway, we're all three twenty, but of course we have fake IDs."

"Of course," I replied, reminding myself I was in college now. I ordered a Virgin Mary, and the men all ordered a shot of vodka and a beer. Darrell then put his shot of vodka into my Virgin Mary, thereby transforming it into a Bloody Mary. Given our joint fascination with blood, I kind of liked the poetry of it.

I took a sip. "Mmm. Delicious," I said, and I told the guys it was my first ever cocktail. It was, indeed.

"I'll make it better," David, another of the guys, said, and he dumped his shot of vodka into my Bloody Mary, too. "Welcome to college, Val," he added. No guy had called me Val in a long time. Darrell is sharp, and he picked up on my not being used to being called by my own name.

"Did you have a nickname in high school?" Darrell asked, once half my Bloody Mary was in my tummy.

"I had two," I announced, without thinking.

"Well? What are they?" Darrell asked.

"Valcicle, and The Vamp," I replied. "Not the nicest nicknames. You can imagine."

"You lost the icicle nickname, right?" David asked.

"Yes, and rather spectacularly, but let's talk about something else. Tell me about college life," I replied.

The three guys told me all about college, what I might expect, and a couple of hours later I was charmed by them and had drunk three Virgin Mary's, each transformed into a stiff Bloody Mary, and I was drunk. It was time to go, and I had trouble walking in my heels (which I wore as part of my successful campaign to titillate Dr. Trinkhaus into letting me into his class), so Darrell put his arm around me, as the three guys escorted me back to my dorm room.

At the door of my room, I thanked them, and said, "I can take it from here, guys. Thanks again." I entered my room, closing the door, but it didn't close.

"Kiss goodbye?" Darrell asked, with his foot having prevented the door from closing.

"Oh. Well, okay," I said, figuring this was yet another college tradition I was going to learn.

I felt that I had to kiss each guy, of course, and gradually I was pushed more and more into my room, and by the time I had finished kissing all three men, I observed the results. Each man had a significant bulge they were making no effort to hide, the crotch of my panties was wet from my own arousal, and all four of us were in my rather small room.

"Thanks for the nice kisses, but I have to rest and get rid of my drunken state. So, you can all please leave now," I said. The room was spinning around, and I lost my balance, and fell onto the bed. Six shots of vodka in two hours can do that to a girl, assuming it doesn't kill her first, from alcohol poisoning.

Darrell, the alpha leader, didn't leave, but instead said, "Let me help you, Vampie," as he removed my heels. I mumbled thanks. David rummaged through the drawers of my bureau, and found my sexy nightgown. He then proceeded to undress me, down to my bra and panties, as I pathetically told him not to, that I like to undress myself.

He told me to sit up, and stupidly I did, and the room began to spin around again. Darrell had a light touch, and I didn't feel him unhook my bra, and suddenly it was off my body. I was about to scream as things registered in my booze addled brain, when he slipped my nightgown over my head, covering my previously highly exposed breasts. I mumbled thanks and lay back down, as Darrell effortlessly slipped off my panties, too. Steve, the third guy, lifted my ass to help Darrell slide off my panties. I was now naked under my nightgown, which was highly revealing if I allowed myself to be backlit.

I could tell, via a little mind reading, that David was fascinated by my boobs. Mind reading was overkill, since in any event, it was obvious. All girls have boobs, of course, but mine -- I like to think -- are a little special, with their light coral pink color, and genuine perkiness.

"Please leave now," I somehow managed to say, although as I said it, I noticed the guys had all three removed their pants and underpants. Uh-oh, I thought. I knew I was doomed. I also knew Darrell would be the first to ravage me. I had some decisions to make, and little time to make them!

"Only one of you. I don't enjoy group sex," I stupidly, stupidly said. "And, I bite."

Darrell was quick on the uptake. He knew I was fresh out of high school. "You've already experienced group sex?" He seemed a bit incredulous. They had a live one here, I knew he was thinking.

"One time, and it was by accident," I said. Darrell had a strange smile. "Open your legs, my love," he said. He added, "No pictures, guys," as he saw me looking with alarm at Steve's smartphone.

My legs stayed closed. I knew Darrell was going to fuck me, and the other two guys were going to watch. I couldn't believe this was happening. Is this what college life is like? Well, if it's inevitable, I might as well try to enjoy it.

I actually didn't mind. I was planning on getting laid at some point, just not so soon! After all, I had only just met Darrell a few hours and a lot of booze ago. However, it had been a long time, and while I didn't realize it at the time, I was hungry for blood. (I hate the term "blood thirsty.")

"Sometimes, I bite, too," Darrell said, and suddenly I lost all my reservations about having sex with Darrell.

"Okay, I guess ... but Darrell only," I said.

"You've had a threesome with two men before, then?" Darrell asked, as he moved into position.

"Yes," I said, and shuddered at the memory of it. As I shuddered, I felt Darrell's cock hovering at my entrance to paradise. "I've tried to forget it. I'm not that kind of girl."

Darrell just smiled, as he slipped his cock inside me. I gasped as it entered me, but I was wet and my pussy welcomed him in. It felt nice, so my need to protest left. I began to move with him, trying to get his cock somehow to touch my clit as he fucked me. I glanced over at Steve and David, and then my arousal doubled as I saw them watching, almost drooling, and stroking their own cocks. I moaned, and Darrell smiled again and started fucking me harder.

All those times I had heightened my arousal by wondering if we were being watched as Jason and I made love up on Cherry Hill, were nothing compared to having two men, right there, next to us, watching me get ravished. And getting ravished I most certainly was, as Darrell pounded into me with unimaginable force. I was scared of losing control, as I had with all three of Jason, Greg, and Suresh before.

When my climax came, I was so awash in my endorphins I could barely think. I moaned loudly, and then my jaw clamped down on Darrell's shoulder. I felt blood enter my mouth, and I sucked it out of Darrell's shoulder with a hunger -- a thirst -- that was so intense it was frightening!

Darrell kept right on fucking me, even though I had climaxed and sucked out an enormous amount of blood, or so at least it seemed to me at the time. Darrell seemed oblivious as he continued to get his own nut. It was heavenly. I lucked out: Darrell might have a cock below average in size, true, but boy could that man fuck! It was so intense that after my bloody feast, I sort of, kind of, passed out. The last thing I remember before I slipped out of consciousness was how good it felt to have Darrell's cock piston in and out of me. Wow.

My eyes tend to flutter when I return to the conscious world, and as they did, Darrell was getting off of me, and David obviously longed to be next. In fact, I knew he wanted sloppy seconds; it turned out that the bloody meal from Darrell' shoulder had given me the ability to look into the minds of the people around me. This newfound ability totally freaked me out. First the blood fetish, then knowing random shit (such as people's blood types), and now the ability to read minds? What the f**k was going on??

I debated actually letting David fuck me too, as I had done with Greg and then Suresh in that cheap motel half a year earlier, but that freaked me out to the point where I never wanted to do that again. I quickly closed my legs and told the men that was it; I was done with sex for the day, at least.

It turns out the men were decent, and didn't want to force an unwilling woman to have sex with them. It's true, I was still drunk, and as such they might have, in the end, got their wish, but I had said no, and they respected it. Apparently at Purdue, no meant no, at least for these men. Nice!

Darrell lingered, as David and Steve left my room, together with their erotic memories of watching Darrell and I have rather intense and fantastic sex. Remarkably, just like Jason and Suresh (but not Greg!) before him, Darrell's shoulder healed within the hour, and he had no memory that I had bit him and sucked out his blood.

My head was reeling with all of these unreal happenings. I was already drunk, so I got stoned, too, in my attempt to deal with everything that was going on. Meanwhile, Darrell was infatuated with me. He took me out to an elegant dinner, and when he took me home he gave me a kiss goodnight that I still remember to this day. Wow, what a kiss.

Darrell clearly was hoping for another round of sex, and my emotions wanted to give him one, but as I told him, I was played out for the day. I also pointed out that we barely knew each other. I did, however, agree to go out with him the next night, and try to rectify that problem!

Right away, I had a boyfriend, and moreover one who didn't mind that I feasted on his blood, and like Jason Jones before him, he healed within an hour! What fantastic luck. The difference was, of course, that while he was a good substitute, he wasn't Jason Jones véritable, and while I liked Darrell, and loved having sex with him, I didn't love him.