Chapter 25: Forbidden Knowledge
The fluorescent bulb in the study carrel flickered, a persistent, dying buzz that drilled into Tracy’s skull. It painted the pages of her open textbook in a sickly, juddering light. Economics. Supply curves. It was all meaningless glyphs. Her body was a live wire, still humming from the morning, every nerve ending hyper-aware of Kaylee’s knee pressed against hers under the small desk.
Kaylee hadn’t touched her since they’d stumbled out of the dorm, showered, and dragged themselves to the library. But the pressure of that denim-clad knee was an anchor line, a constant reminder of the gravity between them. Tracy tried to focus on a paragraph about marginal utility. Her own marginal utility felt like a scream trapped in her throat.
“This is impossible,” Tracy whispered, her pen tapping a frantic rhythm on the notebook.
“What is?” Kaylee didn’t look up from her sketchpad. She was drawing, her hand moving with a lazy, confident grace. The lamp’s glow caught the vibrant strands of her pink hair, turning them neon.
“Concentrating. Existing. Pretending I didn’t have your…” Tracy lowered her voice even further, glancing around the deserted, silent aisle of books. “That I didn’t have you inside me three hours ago.”
A slow smile spread across Kaylee’s face. She finally looked up, her eyes gleaming in the low light. “So don’t pretend.”
“Kaylee.”
“What? It’s a dead zone. No one comes back here. The books smell like depression and glue.” Kaylee set her pencil down. Her gaze was a physical weight, roaming over Tracy’s face, down to where her hoodie was zipped to her neck. “You’re all wound up again. I can feel it.”
Tracy’s face flushed. She was. The ache had returned, a low, persistent throb between her legs that no amount of shifting in the hard chair could alleviate. It was a thirsty, empty feeling. “It doesn’t turn off,” she hissed, frustrated. “It’s like a engine idling. All the time.”
“Good.” Kaylee’s hand left the desk and landed on Tracy’s thigh, high up. The contact was electric, even through the fabric. Her fingers squeezed. “Means you’re working right.”
“This isn’t working right, this is a defect.”
“It’s an upgrade.” Kaylee’s hand slid upward an inch. Tracy’s breath hitched. “You want me to prove it?”
“We’re in the library.”
“And?” Kaylee’s smirk was a challenge. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a warm, conspiratorial murmur. Her pink hair brushed Tracy’s cheek. “Remember what I said this morning? About the fantasy?”
The image slammed back into Tracy’s mind, full-color and debilitating: Chloe. On her knees. The phantom taste returned. She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Kaylee’s fingers began a slow, maddening circle on her thigh. “About watching. About having you… occupied. While I take what’s mine.” Her eyes were dark, pupils swallowing the blue. “You liked that idea. I could tell.”
Tracy couldn’t speak. Her heart was a trapped bird against her ribs. She gave a tiny, desperate nod.
“So consider this a test run.” Kaylee’s hand suddenly retreated. She looked furtively down the long, shadowy row of shelves. Empty. Silent save for the hum of the lights. “Get up.”
“What?”
“Stand up. Turn around. Face the carrel.”
A jolt of pure adrenaline shot through Tracy, cold and hot at once. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes.” Kaylee’s voice held no room for argument. It was playful, but utterly certain. She stood herself, her chair scraping softly on the linoleum. She put her hands on Tracy’s shoulders and exerted gentle pressure. “Up. Now. Before I make a scene.”
Trembling, Tracy stood. Her legs felt like water. The utilitarian study carrel, with its scarred wooden divider, suddenly seemed like the most exposed place on earth. She turned, facing the shelves of dense, unreadable economic theory. Her palms flattened against the cool wood.
She heard the rustle of clothing behind her. Kaylee’s skirt. A zipper.
Then Kaylee was pressed against her back, a solid line of heat. Her breath was hot on Tracy’s neck. One hand snaked around her waist, dipping low, cupping her through her jeans. Tracy jerked, a muffled gasp escaping her.
“Shhh,” Kaylee breathed, her lips against Tracy’s ear. The word was a vibration. “You have to be quiet. Someone might hear.” Her other hand came up, fingers threading into Tracy’s hair, not pulling, just holding. Anchoring. “Someone might hear how much you love this.”
Kaylee’s hand at her waist was relentless, rubbing a firm, circular pressure against the denim where Tracy ached most. It was too much and not enough, the rough fabric a brutal friction. Tracy’s forehead dropped to the bookshelf. The smell of old paper and dust filled her nose. She pushed her hips back, seeking more.
“Please,” she whispered, the word cracking.
“Please what?” Kaylee’s voice was a low purr. Her hand stilled.
“Don’t stop.”
“You’ll be quiet?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. God, Kaylee, please.”
The hand moved again, but only for a second. Then it was gone, moving to the button of Tracy’s jeans. The snick of the button opening was deafening. The slow rasp of the zipper was obscene. Cool air hit Tracy’s stomach as Kaylee tugged her jeans and underwear down just enough, just to her mid-thighs, trapping her legs. The vulnerability was total, paralyzing.
Kaylee’s hand returned, skin on skin now, and Tracy cried out, slapping her own hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. Kaylee’s fingers were slippery, knowing, finding a rhythm that had Tracy’s knees buckling within seconds.
“That’s it,” Kaylee murmured, her own breathing growing ragged against Tracy’s neck. Her fingers worked faster, deeper. “Think about it. Think about someone else here. On their knees. Your mouth full. Would you like that? While I do this?”
Tracy nodded frantically, her vision swimming. The fantasy wasn’t phantom now; it was a lifeline, a focus for the overwhelming sensation. She imagined the weight, the stretch of her lips, the submissive ache in her jaw. It synced perfectly with the building tension coiling in her gut, pulled taut by Kaylee’s expert touch.
“I can see it,” Kaylee hissed, her fingers curling. “I’d watch. I’d tell her how pretty you look. I’d tell you to take it. And then I’d take you.”
The climax broke over Tracy without warning, a silent, convulsive storm. Her body locked, her scream swallowed by her own palm, her teeth biting into the fleshy part of her hand. The pleasure was a white-hot wire, electrocuting her from the inside out. She shook through it, sustained only by Kaylee’s arm around her waist and the solid shelf in front of her.
As the waves subsided, leaving her trembling and hollow, Kaylee slowly withdrew her hand. She pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of Tracy’s neck. “See?” she whispered. “Upgrade.”
Tracy couldn’t move. She was spent, exposed, her jeans around her thighs in the silent library. Shame lapped at the edges of her bliss, but it was faint, easily drowned out by the relentless, humming truth of her body. Kaylee carefully pulled her clothing back into place, the gesture oddly tender.
“Sit down,” Kaylee said softly, guiding her back into the chair. Tracy slumped into it, boneless. Kaylee remained standing, looking down at her with an expression of fierce satisfaction. She tucked a strand of Tracy’s hair behind her ear.
Then her eyes flicked over Tracy’s shoulder, down the aisle. Her expression changed. The possessiveness didn’t fade, but it was joined by a spark of pure, unadulterated curiosity.
Tracy turned to follow her gaze.
At the far end of the row, near the entrance to the study area, stood Chloe. She had a stack of art history books cradled in her arms. She wasn’t looking at them. She was looking straight down the aisle, directly at them. Her face was unreadable from this distance, but her posture was perfectly still.
How long had she been there?
Kaylee didn’t look away. A slow, deliberate smile touched her lips. She raised her hand, the one that had just been between Tracy’s legs, and gave a small, casual wave.
Chloe didn’t wave back. Instead, a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. She set her stack of books down on a nearby table with a deliberate thud. The sound was too loud in the quiet aisle. She started walking toward them, her canvas sneakers making almost no sound on the linoleum.
Tracy’s stomach plummeted. Her skin, still buzzing with aftershocks, now prickled with cold dread. She quickly swiveled her chair back around, facing the desk, as if the economics textbook could shield her. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice strangled. “She saw. She totally saw.”
“Maybe,” Kaylee said, her tone disturbingly relaxed. She leaned back against the carrel, crossing her arms. She watched Chloe’s approach with the focused interest of a biologist observing a novel species. “So?”
“So? Kaylee, we—I was—you were—” Tracy’s mind short-circuited, unable to form the sentence.
“Yeah,” Kaylee said, a grin playing on her lips. “And it was awesome.”
Chloe’s footsteps stopped just behind Tracy’s chair. Tracy could smell her perfume—vanilla and something earthy, like sandalwood. It was the scent from her fantasy. Her face burned.
“Study break?” Chloe’s voice was light, amused. It held no judgment, only a palpable, curious energy.
Tracy couldn’t bring herself to turn around. She stared hard at a diagram of a supply curve.
Kaylee laughed, a single, soft sound. “Something like that. The Marginal Theory of Utility got a little hands-on.”
“Looked more like applied practice,” Chloe said. Her shadow fell across Tracy’s textbook. Tracy finally forced herself to look up.
Chloe was grinning conspiratorially, having caught the two in a lewd act. Her eyes, a warm brown, danced between them. There was no shock, no disgust. Just a sharp, intelligent gleam. She leaned one hip against the bookshelf, her gaze dropping pointedly to Tracy’s disheveled hoodie, then to Kaylee’s hands. “Rough session?”
Kaylee held up her hands, wiggling her fingers. “Educational.”
Tracy found her voice, though it was thin. “How much did you see?”
Chloe’s smile softened, but didn’t fade. “Enough to know I’m interrupting the advanced seminar.” She tilted her head, her eyes lingering on Kaylee. “Pink’s a good color on you. Vibrant. New dye?”
A silent communication passed between Kaylee and Chloe, a flicker of understanding that Tracy couldn’t decipher. Kaylee’s casual facade tightened almost imperceptibly. “Something like that,” she repeated, more slowly.
“And you,” Chloe said, shifting her gaze to Tracy. Her look was appraising, but kind. “You look like you could use a glass of water. Or a cigarette.” She pushed off the shelf. “Actually, I was just heading out. The library’s a little… stifling today.”
She wasn’t leaving. It was an invitation. Tracy could feel it.
Kaylee nudged Tracy’s foot with her own. “We could use some air. This chapter is killing me.” She said it like a decision, already gathering her sketchpad. “You coming, Trace? Or you gonna master the intricacies of market equilibrium?”
The choice was an illusion. Tracy looked from Kaylee’s expectant face to Chloe’s patiently waiting one. The fantasy from earlier, the one that had tipped her over the edge, curled in the base of her skull. It wasn’t a phantom anymore. It was a potential path, laid out by Chloe’s knowing smile.
Her body, still humming and sensitive, made the decision for her. “Air,” Tracy muttered, closing the textbook with a definitive thump. “Definitely air.”
She stood up, her legs still unsteady. Chloe’s eyes tracked the movement, missing nothing. She turned and led the way out of the narrow aisle, her stride confident. Kaylee fell in beside Tracy, slipping her hand into Tracy’s for a brief, grounding squeeze.
“Just go with it,” Kaylee murmured, her lips barely moving.
They followed Chloe out of the economics section, past the silent rows of books, their footsteps echoing in the vaulted quiet. Chloe didn’t lead them toward the main exit. Instead, she pushed open a heavy fire door, marked ‘Staff Only’, which led into a concrete stairwell.
The air was cooler here, smelling of dust and damp. Chloe started climbing the stairs, not looking back. “Roof access is usually locked,” she called down, her voice echoing, “but the latch is busted. Best view on campus. And the best privacy.”
Tracy’s heart hammered against her ribs. She shot a look at Kaylee, who just raised her eyebrows, a spark of pure adventure in her eyes. The door to the roof groaned open above them, flooding the stairwell with grey, afternoon light.
The door to the roof groaned open above them, flooding the stairwell with grey, afternoon light. Chloe held it, a silhouette against the vast, open sky, before stepping through without a backward glance. Tracy hesitated on the top step, the wind whipping a loose strand of hair across her face. It smelled of distant rain and city exhaust.
“Coming?” Kaylee’s voice was close behind her, a warm pressure against her uncertainty.
Tracy followed. The roof was a flat, tar-paved expanse littered with forgotten ventilation units and coiled, rusty cables. The October wind was stronger up here, biting through her hoodie. Chicago stretched around them in a gritty panorama of brick and glass. Chloe was already walking toward the low parapet at the edge, her figure lean against the sprawling urban backdrop.
Kaylee looped her arm through Tracy’s, pulling her along. “Nice spot,” she called out to Chloe, her voice carried away by a gust.
“It’s quiet,” Chloe said, not turning around. She reached the edge and leaned her elbows on the concrete ledge, looking out. “People forget about vertical space. All the drama happens on the ground.”
Tracy stood a few feet away, unsure where to put herself. The library’s desperate energy was still in her muscles, but up here, under the open sky, it felt fragile and small. “So,” she started, then faltered.
Chloe finally turned, leaning back against the ledge. The wind caught her dark hair. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of amusement and something sharper. “So. That was some intense studying.”
“We were reviewing… pressure gradients,” Kaylee said, deadpan. She drifted closer to Chloe, a deliberate prowl.
“Looked more like a practical lab.” Chloe’s eyes crinkled. She looked at Tracy, who was determinedly studying a crack in the tar. “You okay? You seemed a little… overstimulated.”
“I’m fine.” Tracy’s voice was too high. She hugged herself. “Just… a lot.”
“It is,” Chloe agreed softly. Her gaze shifted to Kaylee, taking in the vibrant pink hair with a knowing intensity. “A lot happens fast around here. One day you’re one thing, the next…” She shrugged. “You’re something else.”
A thick silence descended, broken only by the whine of wind over a vent pipe. Kaylee’s playful demeanor solidified into something more intent. “You sound like you speak from experience.”
“Maybe.” Chloe pushed off from the ledge. She took a few steps toward the center of the roof, away from the sheer drop. “Maybe I’ve seen a friend go through a sudden… change. A glow-up, you could call it. New hair. New… accessories.” Her eyes flicked downward, just for an instant, to Kaylee’s jeans.
Tracy’s breath caught. She remembered Chloe from the party. She remembered Eva. The pieces, jagged and improbable, began to click into a terrifying picture.
Kaylee took a step closer, now within Chloe’s personal space. “What kind of accessories?”
Chloe held her ground. “The kind you don’t buy at a mall. The kind that comes from a wish.” She said the last word slowly, letting it hang in the air between them.
The wind seemed to die for a second. Tracy felt the world tilt. “You know.”
“I know about Zara,” Chloe said, her voice flat. “I know the lamp. I know the rules. I was there when Eva made her wish.” A shadow crossed her face. “It was… educational.”
Kaylee’s bravado flickered, replaced by raw curiosity. “So you’ve seen this before. The… transformation.”
“I’ve seen it.” Chloe’s jaw tightened. “I’ve also seen the aftermath. The confusion. The hunger.” She looked straight at Tracy. “The dreams you don’t tell anyone about.”
Tracy felt exposed, peeled open on this roof. Her fantasy in the library, the one about Chloe—had it been just a fantasy? Or had it been something else, a bleed-through from whatever magic was swirling around them? “What do you want?” Tracy whispered.
Chloe’s expression softened. “To show you you’re not alone. And to show you this.” She let out a long breath, as if steeling herself. Then, with a calm, deliberate motion, she reached for the hem of her own long, flowing skirt.
“Wait, what are you—” Tracy started.
Chloe didn’t stop. She gathered the soft fabric in her hands and lifted it, slowly, up past her knees, past her thighs. The wind caught the material, billowing it gently around her. She held Tracy’s gaze, a challenge and an offering in one.
There, in the clear, unforgiving afternoon light, Tracy saw it. Above the line of Chloe’s simple cotton underwear, nestled at the base of her stomach, was a thick, defined bulge that strained against the fabric. It was unmistakable. A soft, shocked sound escaped Kaylee’s lips.
Chloe let the skirt fall, the moment gone as quickly as it had appeared. The normalcy of her posture was jarring. “Eva’s wish,” she said, her voice barely carrying over the wind. “A drop of her cum got on my lip at the party. I licked it off before I knew.” She gave a humorless smile. “Surprise.”
Tracy stared, her mind reeling. The object of her secret fantasy had been hiding the same reality. The world narrowed to the three of them on this windy roof. Kaylee was the first to move, stepping right up to Chloe, her eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive fascination.
“Does it… work?” Kaylee asked, her voice hushed. “Like mine?”
Chloe nodded, once. “It works.”
A current passed between them, electric and unspoken. Tracy watched, rooted to the spot, as Kaylee reached out a hand. She didn’t touch Chloe, but her fingers hovered near Chloe’s abdomen, where the secret lay hidden under the skirt. “And you’ve been… dealing with this alone?”
“I’ve been observing,” Chloe corrected, her eyes on Kaylee’s hovering hand. “Watching. Waiting to see who else got caught in the splash zone.” Her gaze slid to Tracy. “Imagine my interest when I saw Travis, then you, then…” She looked back at Kaylee. “The pink is a nice touch. Very you.”
Kaylee’s hand finally made contact, a light, testing press against Chloe’s lower stomach through the fabric. Chloe’s breath hitched, a slight tremble breaking her calm facade. “You don’t have to deal with it alone anymore,” Kaylee murmured, her voice low and sure.
Tracy watched the connection solidify, a triangle of understanding and desire snapping into place. Her own newfound hunger, a constant echo in her blood, roared in sympathy. The city spread out below them, oblivious. Up here, the rules were being rewritten.
Chloe looked from Kaylee’s intense focus to Tracy’s wide-eyed shock. A slow, real smile finally touched her lips. “So,” she said, her tone shifting into something lighter, more daring. “What do the two of you want to do now?”