Chapter 11: Exploring Candy
The morning light filtered through the velvet curtains of Kendra's suite, painting the room in shades of amber and rose. Candy lay sprawled across the silk sheets, one leg hooked over Kendra's thigh, her purple-nailed fingers tracing lazy patterns on her lover's stomach. She had been awake for hours, her new body thrumming with an energy she couldn't quite contain.
Today was her first day back at the university.
"Candy," Kendra murmured, still half-asleep. "You're thinking too loud."
Candy laughed, a low, throaty sound that felt foreign and wonderful in her throat. "I'm just excited. I've never been excited to go to class before."
Kendra opened one pink-rimmed eye. "That's the succubus magic talking. Your body craves attention, stimulation, cock. The university is a banquet."
The thought made Candy's cunt clench. She slid out of bed, her bare feet padding across the plush carpet toward the enormous wardrobe that dominated one wall. Mirrors lined the doors, and she paused to look at herself.
God, she was beautiful.
Her body was a masterpiece of curves and sin. Massive tits that defied gravity, each one bigger than her head, tipped with dusky nipples that pebbled at the slightest touch. Her waist was impossibly narrow, flaring into hips that could make a man weep. And her ass—her fat, round, perfect ass—looked even better than it had last night.
But her eyes kept drifting to her hands.
She lifted her right hand, spreading her fingers wide. The nails were incredible. Long, pointed acrylics painted a deep purple that shimmered like liquid amethyst in the morning light. They were utterly impractical—she couldn't type, couldn't grip anything properly, couldn't even button a shirt without risking tearing the fabric. But she didn't care. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen.
"Babe," Kendra said, propping herself up on her elbows. "What are you staring at?"
"My nails." Candy twisted her wrist, watching them catch the light. "I don't think I've ever loved anything more than these nails. They're mean and beautiful and useless for everything except pleasure."
Kendra laughed. "You're going to be insufferable."
"Absolutely." Candy turned, planting her hands on her hips and thrusting her tits forward. "Now help me pick something to wear."
---
The wardrobe was a treasure trove of depravity.
Kendra had amassed an arsenal of clothing designed to showcase her own transformed body, and now she was more than happy to share. Candy held up one outfit after another, a cascade of leather and lace, denim cutoffs that barely covered her mound, crop tops that would do nothing to contain her massive chest.
"Your tits are too big for that," Kendra said, tossing aside a bandeau. "Try this one."
Candy caught the garment—a tiny white tube top that was more of a suggestion than a shirt. When she pulled it on, it only covered the undersides of her breasts, pushing them up and together until they looked ready to explode. The bottom of her tits hung exposed, the white fabric straining against her nipples.
"I could use this as a slingshot," Candy mused.
"Try the skirt."
It was a miniskirt made of pink pleather, so short that when Candy bent forward, she could see the reflection of her own bare ass in the mirror. She paired it with thigh-high stockings with garters, and a pair of platform heels that made her legs look endless.
"Makeup," Kendra said, gesturing to the vanity. "Sit."
Candy obeyed, and Kendra went to work. Foundation, contour, blush. Eyeshadow in shades of purple and pink to match their respective hair streaks. Mascara that made her lashes look like fans. And lipstick—a deep burgundy gloss that made her plush lips look good enough to suck.
By the time Kendra finished, Candy looked like she had stepped out of a wet dream.
"Now," Kendra said, stepping back to admire her work. "Go make the university regret ever underestimating you."
---
The walk across campus was a symphony of chaos.
Heads turned. Jaws dropped. A freshman carrying a stack of books walked directly into a fountain because he couldn't take his eyes off Candy's massive tits as they bounced with every step. Two professors stopped mid-conversation, their gaze lingering on her exposed ass.
And Candy loved every second of it.
She swung her hips exaggeratedly, making her short pleather skirt ride up even higher. She tossed her long black-purple hair over her shoulder, letting it cascade down her back. She flexed her fingers, showing off her nails, watching as they caught the sunlight.
"Fuck me," someone breathed.
Candy smiled.
Her first class was Runic Theory, a subject she had failed twice before. She slipped into the lecture hall, and the room seemed to fall silent. All eyes landed on her, the girl who had been the laughingstock of the university, the weakest mage in her cohort, the failure who had been about to be expelled.
Now she looked like a goddess of sin.
She took a seat in the front row, crossing her legs so that the movement of her tight pleather skirt drew every pair of eyes down her tanned thighs. She reached into her bag, removing her notebook, and noticed that her purple nails made even that simple action look sensual.
Professor Whitmore was already at the podium. He was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a paunch, and Candy watched as his eyes settled on her, widening slightly. He cleared his throat, shuffled his notes, and began the lecture.
But she could tell he was distracted.
Her gaze drifted to the student next to her—a mousy young man with thick glasses named Marcus, who had always been polite to her in the back of class. He was staring at her cleavage with the desperation of a man dying of thirst.
She leaned toward him, her massive tits pressed together, threatening to spill from the white tube top. "Hi, Marcus."
He swallowed hard. "H-hey, Candice."
"Candy," she corrected, a purr in her voice. "I go by Candy now."
"Right. Candy." He licked his lips. "You look… different."
"That's the point."
Under the desk, she slid her hand onto his thigh. His entire body stiffened, but he didn't pull away. She traced her purple nails along his leg, feeling him tremble.
"Keep your eyes on the professor," she whispered. "And let me take care of you."
Her fingers found his zipper. He gasped, then tried to play it off as a cough. When she pulled his cock out of his pants, he was already rock hard, leaking pre-cum.
She wrapped her hand around his shaft, and the contrast of her long purple nails against his pale skin was obscene and erotic. She stroked him slowly, methodically, her thumb swirling over the head.
The professor was droning on about the proper pronunciation of elven runes. No one was looking. She leaned down, under the desk, and took him in her mouth.
Marcus let out a strangled whimper.
Candy sucked him with relish, her plush lips sliding along his shaft, her tongue tracing the veins. She was astonished at her own skill, her own hunger. The succubus magic had rewritten her body, rewritten her desires, made her a predator where she had once been prey.
She took him all the way to the base, her throat opening easily. She held him there, swallowing around him, and he let out a choked moan that he couldn't quite suppress.
Professor Whitmore cleared his throat loudly. "Mr. Ashford, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"
Marcus's eyes were bulging. "No, sir. Just—just a cough."
Whitmore's gaze flickered to Candy. He stared at her bent-over position, at the obvious movement beneath the desk, and his face flushed. But he didn't say a word.
He just turned back to the board and continued his lecture.
Candy smirked around Marcus's cock. She bobbed her head faster, sucking harder, and within a minute he was coming down her throat. She swallowed every drop, licking him clean, then tucked him back into his pants.
When she sat up, she ran her tongue over her glossy lips, savoring the taste.
"Thank you," Marcus squeaked.
"The pleasure was mine," she said, flexing her nails in front of his face. "Now pass me your notes. I actually want to learn something."
---
Her second class was Magical History, and she didn't even bother pretending to pay attention.
She sat in the back row, sprawled in her seat, one leg crossed over the other so that her bare ass was half-exposed. Professor Aldridge—no relation to the Dean, just a distant cousin—was an elderly man with a monotone voice and no visible interest in the female form.
But several of her classmates were interested.
By the time the lecture ended, she had given three handjobs and one more blowjob, this time to a rugby player named Gerald who had backed her against the wall in the hallway between classes.
"You're so fucking tight," he'd groaned, his hand fisting her hair.
"Not yet," she'd purred, pulling off his cock with a wet sound. "But if you're good, maybe I'll let you test that theory."
He'd come so hard that he'd nearly collapsed.
Candy strutted through the halls, her heels clicking on the marble floors, her nails leaving faint scratches on the walls as she passed. She felt invincible. Yesterday, she had been a failure. Today, she was the most desired woman on campus.
And she hadn't even done anything with her magic yet.
---
By midday, she was starving.
Not for food—well, also for food. But the hunger that gnawed at her core was something else entirely. She found herself gravitating toward the Crimson Lotus, toward the familiar velvet-draped corridors, toward the safety of Kendra's suite.
Instead, she found herself in a small office off the main lounge, face-to-face with Professor Vance.
He was one of the newer faculty members, a handsome man in his early forties with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp jaw. He taught Intermediate Enchantments, a class Candy was due to take the following semester.
"Candy," he said, closing the door behind her. "I heard you were looking for me."
She was, in fact, not looking for him. But she didn't correct him.
"I was hoping to discuss my coursework," she said, improvising. "I transferred into the program late, and I want to make sure I'm up to speed."
"Transferring isn't quite the right word," he said, settling behind his desk. "More like, appearing out of nowhere with a massive power boost and a brand new set of..."
He gestured vaguely at her chest.
"Assets?" she offered.
"I was going to say 'deficits in your academic record,' but sure."
Candy laughed, a sound that was quickly becoming her favorite thing. She walked around his desk, settling onto the edge, letting his gaze travel from her long purple nails down to her tanned thighs.
"I need personal tutoring," she said, emphasizing the word personal. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to pass."
Professor Kennedy's eyes darkened. "Whatever it takes?"
"Anything."
He stood, closing the distance between them. His hand found her bare thigh, sliding up the skin, pushing beneath the hem of her skirt.
"Then let's start with the basics," he said. "Show me what you've learned so far."
Candy leaned back on his desk, spreading her legs. She wasn't wearing underwear—she had discarded them after the rugby incident, finding them bothersome. She let him see everything, her pussy glistening and ready.
"I've learned quite a lot today," she purred. "But I'm always eager to learn more."
He didn't need to be told twice.
His fingers found her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. She moaned, arching her back, her tits straining against the white tube top. He pushed her skirt up further, exposing her completely, and then he was leaning down, his mouth on her cunt.
"Oh, fuck," she gasped. "Professor—"
"You can call me Marcus," he said against her skin. "Everyone else does."
She shouldn't have been surprised. The university was full of men with hungers they couldn't control. But the sight of a professor with his head between her thighs, devouring her like a starving man at a feast, made her see red with desire.
Her fingers tangled in his salt-and-pepper hair, her purple nails scratching his scalp. He groaned against her, his tongue lashing at her clit with desperate hunger.
"More," she demanded. "I need more."
He pulled away, his face flushed and wet. He unbuckled his pants, freeing his cock, and Candy's eyes widened. He was thick, heavy, and ready.
"Ride me," he said, his voice hoarse. "Show me what you're made of."
Candy straddled him in an instant, sinking onto his cock with a wet, obscene sound. She was so wet that he slid in almost effortlessly, and when she was fully seated, she let out a moan of pure satisfaction.
"Your pussy is incredible," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips. "So fucking tight. How the hell—"
"Succubus magic," she gasped, rolling her hips. "Level thirty."
"Fuck."
She rode him with abandon, her tits bouncing wildly, the white tube top finally failing and slipping down to her waist. Her massive chest swung freely, her dusky nipples grazing his chest with every thrust.
He grabbed her tits, kneading them, squeezing them, and she cried out. His touch was rough, demanding, and she loved it.
"Finish inside me," she begged. "Fill me up. I want to feel you come."
He groaned, his hips slamming up into her, and then he was coming, hot and thick, flooding her inside. She milked him dry, her cunt clenching around his cock, refusing to let a single drop escape.
When he was spent, she pulled off him slowly, his cum dripping down her thighs. She licked her purple nails, one by one, watching his expression as he witnessed what he had created.
"Thank you for the personal tutoring, Professor," she said, her voice dripping with honey. "I think I'm going to learn a lot this year."
She walked out, leaving him spent and alone, her hair swaying behind her.
---
Back in Kendra's suite, she collapsed onto the bed, her body buzzing with satisfaction.
"How was your first day?" Kendra asked, lounging against the headboard with a glass of wine.
Candy held up her purple nails, wiggling them. "Productive. I sucked off a classmate, gave two hand jobs, got fingered behind the library—"
"The library?"
"—and fucked a professor in his office."
Kendra raised an eyebrow. "Which professor?"
"Tanaka, from Enchantments."
"Wow." Kendra grinned. "You work fast."
"It's the nails," Candy said, examining them. "Men can't stop staring at them. And then they can't stop thinking about what they'd feel like wrapped around their cocks."
Kendra laughed, sliding closer to her. "You've truly found your calling, baby."
Candy rolled onto her side, facing her. The scent of sex and perfume and jasmine was thick in the air, and she felt the hunger stirring again.
"We need to celebrate," she said. "Your cock—I mean, your mouth—I need it."
Kendra's pink nails traced Candy's jaw. "What do you want, sweetheart?"
"You," Candy whispered. "Every part of you."
Kendra's smile was pure sin.
"I want to taste you," she said. "I want to make you come so hard you forget your own name."
Candy spread her legs. "Then come get it."
Kendra vanished beneath the sheets, and Candy's head fell back as Kendra's plush lips found her cunt. The sensation was amplified, sharper than anything she had felt before, and she cried out.
"Oh fuck, yes, just like that—"
Kendra's tongue worked between her folds, licking, probing, devouring. Candy gripped her head, her purple nails scraping against Kendra's scalp. She rode Kendra's face like a woman possessed, chasing her climax with desperate abandon.
"Come for me, Candy," Kendra murmured against her clit. "Come all over my face."
And Candy did.
She shattered, crying out Kendra's name, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Kendra lapped it all up, kissing her trembling thighs, her slick fingers sliding through the mess she'd made.
"Day one," Kendra said, popping up with a grin. "Imagine what day thirty's going to look like."
Candy was still breathing hard, her tits heaving, her cunt soaked. But her eyes held Kendra's, and her smile was equal parts love and promise.
"I can't wait to find out," she purred.
The night was still young, and Candy's new life had only just begun.