Witching Hour

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Movies and History

And so, after much anticipation, with great expectations, Saturday faded away into obscurity, rife with many a tinny roar and tinier victory horns sounding for their digital genocide. Buffy was not content until they were passed where they last saw Jack and Norman at.

Which meant Samantha had to face her fear. And what a fear it was. She almost threw her device as that great snake lunged at her (character), but managed to hold on long enough to dive. Somehow, they were perfectly safe. That’s where the realism ended with Samantha; if she tried in real life to throw herself into a monster’s maw, she doubt she would come out fine. Oh, she would come out; the question, then, was when.

“Nice dodge,” Buffy said. Somehow able to speak. Her fingers clacked away, loudly, on her system, methodical, matching her weapon of choice. The game erupted with its song, and what health Samantha had lost was restored by its eerily beautiful wailing. But that wasn’t the only task she wove in. She drank from a bottle, able to screw on and off its top, ate chips- barbecue ribs, even wiping her fingers off before she continued. And even then she did not rest on her laurels. That crazed harpy was already on the snake once more, hellbent on breaking its head with, as she put it, “doots”.

Sadly, it seemed the doots were too much for the snake. It fell, its head still intact, making her groan.

“Oh come on.” She grumbled, slapping her device into her lap. “I was even in red sharpness.”

“Really? Why weren’t you bouncing then? I was having problems with green.”

“The encore of the first song. Allows me not to. Though I could have sworn it also helped allies- oh! Right! I had to recast it after you carted... for the second time.”

“It’s not my fault. It’s these controls.”

“Uh, honey. I wasn’t having problems.”

“I’m also using a weapon that needs me to hug against him.”

“Your fault for choosing weeb blades.”

“Hey... they’re fun.”

They chuckled, and Samantha got her final carve just in time, the two of them now in G-Ra-

“Oh, what?” Buffy blurted, and groaned. “I thought we were finally done in high rank.”

“We aren’t? After that!” Samantha blurted.

Buffy shook her head, and paled. She closed her device, and rubbed the back of her head.

“I say we wait until the others to do the next monster.”

“Why? Is it worse than what we fought.”

“Worse is subjective.” She cleared her throat, and stood from the bed. Only to sit back down, wobbling too much. “Whoa! Sat too long.”

“Wait. Where are you going? I thought you said-”

“I know what I said. We got snek done; that’s good enough for me.”

“Oh come on! It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Are you sure? Are you positive you want to know?”

“Why not? We came this far.”

Buffy heaved a weary sigh, and plopped back down on the bed, opening her machine again.

“Okay! Don’t say I didn’t warn you...”

And so Samantha came to love the snake, for it was at least constant compared to the living iceberg with its own shovel. Built into its chin, no less. She wanted to continue, so much. Out of anger, alone. The mind was willing, but the flesh –oh, how weak the flesh was... Even then, the mind was already horribly demoralized after forty-seven carts. In a row. In under fifteen minutes.

Samantha sent Buffy off, vowing vengeance upon ole shovel chin as she did. She lumbered back over to the bed, ready for a real life cart, and flopped down in it... only to realize it was far softer than she remembered. It even huffed; Samantha blinked, and rolled off, looking up to the ceiling.

Only to see Marcy staring down at her.

She was holding up a wine-cooler, grinning from ear-to-ear, while the “cushion” she had thrown herself on turned out to be Monica. She was in a ruby red lingerie set this evening. Such elegance, such refinement... complementing the little round ring of dough, munching away and SCATTERING (more) CRUMBS ON HER SHEETS.

“Hey,” Marcy mused, holding up her other arm, revealing a whole new selection of movies. “You had your fun with Buff. Now it’s our turn.”

“How long have you guys been here?” She grumbled, wanting nothing more than to push her head further into the mattress –or to use a certain ho to dredge off her bed. Buffy was able to do a lot of things when eating, including keeping her hands clean for her system; everything else around it, though? Who cared!

“About six hours now,” Monica said, and reached behind her, holding up a box of donuts. Emptied. “We both ate one an hour. You make the cutest sounds when you’re in the zone.”

“It’s a shame you died so many times,” Marcy said, giggling as she bopped Samantha on the top of her head with the bottle. “Why couldn’t you show that nerd up?”

“It’s a lot harder than you expect... mostly because it would benefit from an actual second joy stick.”

“Or, you know, you could be finding a real joy stick,” Monica said, giggling as she rubbed her belly. “I got Minos all ready for you and everything, yet you decided to wallow in here?”

“I’m sorry. My ears must still be acting up. Did I hear, ‘please go get the water bottle, teacher. I horribly need a second dousing’?” Monica creased her mouth shut, making Samantha giggle. A weak thing, but something, at least. “That’s what I thought.”

“Well, you’re kind of limited in choice,” Marcy said. “Peter is obviously not looking for anyone. He has his eyes on whoever this Kaylee character is. Jack is gay.”

“What about Junmei?”

“Your fear of snakes, and I already called dibs.”

“All’s fair in love and war-”

“Oh! So that’s why you let Minos eat Monica out. Hear that, Monica? You are free to fuck him as much as you want.”

“I mean, I was going to do that regardless, but yay!” Monica said, giggling, harder as Samantha glared at her –which only made Marcy’s point.

“Well,” Samantha blurted, sitting up, much to her body’s disdain. It was happy down there on the bed, even if her booty was a touch in the air, “I’ll have you both know I’m already spoken for.”

“Oh? Marcy said.

“By who?” Monica added.

“Remember that guy...’s scent Minos freaked out about?”

“I remember.” … Ginger said. She was standing by the door, somehow still opened with how late it w- it was because it was so late the door was opened. Samantha only now realized the time... It was Sunday. Late into Sunday at that. And she was in no mood to look at what stood in her doorway. Not in the slightest. She even felt Monica revolt a bit beside her, all eyes on that... thing. It was only wearing a black bra with matching panties, which had enough fabric to be used for ten other women.

Ginger sighed, leaning against the door, and the loose flab formed around it... showing the true figure underneath.

“I only caught a whiff,” she finally uttered, “but he seemed like a dreamboat.”

“What... what are you doing here?” Samantha muttered, fighting back her gags.

“Oh, it’s just... I saw Marcy and Monica coming up here a lot, and, when Buffy left, I thought I would finally check what the big commotion was... So... is it just girl talk?”

“We usually watch movies, but Buffy got her sucked into her one of her nerdy little games,” Marcy said.

“Movies? What kind?”

“This time, we got...” and she listed off several, heavily copyrighted selections, most of which could fit into the homogenized genre that Hollywood adopted for most of is features... and also a few Mel Brooks movies, which seemed to have caught Ginger’s interest.

“Would you mind if I stay and watch? I love his work.”

“Really? What’s your favorite? Mine is Spaceballs.”

“I’m a sucker for the classics. Young Frankenstein and the original The Producers.”

“Hey, can’t go wrong with Springtime for Hitler.”

“Apparently not.”

Both of them chuckled, while Samantha was left wondering what a dictator had to do with anything being right. She eased the box for Young Frankenstein out of Marcy’s hand, and cocked her brow at it, wondering why the monster was about to put on a top hat. She turned it over, even more confused that the movie appeared to be in black-and-white.

“Please tell me we aren’t watching anything too retro,” Samantha muttered.

Marcy scoffed, and swiped the box back, looking absolutely hurt.

“You dare insult the work of the great Mel Brooks?”

“I just don’t want to watch anything too old-”

“Don’t you know, Sam? Old is gold,” Monica exclaimed, and took the box for Young Frankenstein away from Marcy. In a blink, the projector and DVD player were in her room, all set up, and Monica was placing the disk daintily in before fading in a flash once more, buried in Samantha’s arms. Ginger decided to sit in the desk chair (another chair to add to the list of the dead). Although Samantha had plans to simply conk out once it began, she found herself staying up, actually watching it, laughing with the others. Some jokes she didn’t understand (for instance: why Frau Blucher was so funny) but she was lost, too engrossed to truly ponder.

The movie came to an end, and Marcy wasted no time in putting in the Producers next, then another Mel Brooks film and onward. As the people of Loxley demanded a locksmith, Samantha was fading too fast to care what new wave of movies they put on next, her chest and cheeks hurting a little from how much she smiled and laughed.

She slept so well, in fact, that when she did awake, she did so spluttering. She was alone in her room. At last. All alone! The shock- no, the... the true bliss of actually finding haven in a place that was meant to be for her, that was hers and meant to be solely for her... wore off quick as she realized why she had awaken.

Samantha rolled over, onto her back, and pulled her phone out of her breast pocket, finding a message from Bridget.

You good tonight?

Samantha groaned, looking at the time. She had been asleep only for three hours... She shook her head.

Of course. I’m dying to get outta here; I miss you guys.

:* We miss you too. We shouldn’t be long.

Message when you are outside, okay?

^_^ Okay!

Samantha sighed, and put her phone away again, made difficult by a rogue yawn. She stretched her arms, and the world seemed to fade away. The next time she checked her phone, another two hours vanished. Without a trace. She blinked, feeling a good bit more awake now, but wondered if she should shoot a message

I did tell her to send one when she was here, she thought, but groaned, sending one.

Where you guys at?

She sat up, slipped on her silver heels, and headed for the kitchen. Where she had more than enough time to make and pour a cup of coffee, as well as enjoy two bowls of cereal, before she received an answer.

We’re running late. We need a bit more time.

Alright. Just keep me posted.

She stretched again, this time making sure she at least was standing, and

picked up her coffee, returning to her room. She opened her laptop, but closed it again, pacing instead. But even that wasn’t enough. The room was too small; she needed a wider trudge. It was well beyond time for her door to be open, but nothing a bit of black magic couldn’t solve. She shoved the door wide, walked down her stairs, to the beginning of the Black Hall, and back, doing so forty times over while waiting for a reply.

No. Still not a wide enough trudge. She stepped out of the Black Halls, and leaned against the door, tapping her heel, matching the throbbing in her temple. She sent another text, growling.

“Where the hell are they?” She exclaimed, sending pretty much the same.

:’( Sorry. Don’t hate us. We’re on our way, I promise!

She rolled her eyes... and looked over herself.

“I guess I could use a shower,” she mumbled, and trudged back through the entry-

“H-Hey! Where are you going?” Bridget exclaimed, making Samantha jump. Right into her grasp. She gripped Samantha’s shoulder, tense, screeching into the metal of the entrance’s door. Samantha needed to peel herself off the door, the metal slurping a little against her hands, but her heart settled as she glared at the redhead. An actual redhead once more.

Bridget let go of her shoulder, trying to hide it behind her back, but Samantha had seen the bright hunk of an emerald on a golden band on her hand, matching her top, purse, and shoes. The wind whistled through her skirt, showing her (lack of) panties, her forest cleared this night of its brush fire, and it settled with the gale outside the car –just like before... and the four times prior. You would think Samantha would be used to it, but no... Bridget let her go, and reached into her purse, pulling out a ring box. “Go ahead! Open it!”

Samantha... did so, wary... and found, who would have guessed it: a ring. It was shaped like a dragon, which its head would “bite” at the base of her thumb, the only finger it could fit, and would coil around and down to its tip, where its tail would rest. Purple scales gleamed on it, shimmering, sparkling against the light around, seeming to create its own. Samantha ogled it, sliding it on, gently. She felt its smooth metal nip a bit against her hand, but it felt right at home... perfect. She looked at Lola’s hand in the passenger’s seat, gleaming with an onyx band, while Tanya had multiple rings of red, yellow, and blue across all her digits, clashing against the white interior of the backseat.

“T... thank you,” Samantha said, chuckling sheepishly. “What are-”

“Well, we wanted you to feel welcome in our little coven,” Bridget said. In fact, she exploded with it, thundering into the dusk. It was quite apparent she was bursting to say it, as if she had practiced it this entire time, “and we thought, ‘Hey! Rings would be the best way!’ Also, they amplify our magics, since each of them were gifted to us. I was given mine by Lola-”

“Which I got mine from the bimbo-” Lola said.

“And I got mine from Lilith,” Tanya said. “It was actually her idea.”

“Oh? Really?” Samantha said, already trying to loosen the ring from her hand, finding it a bit too snug. “That’s... thoughtful of her.”

“She has high hopes for you,” Bridget said, climbing into the driver’s seat.

I bet, she thought, and settled into the seat beside Tanya. Small talk, like the rain outside, pattered away, prominent but soft. Welcomed in every way. The moon peeked through the gray, washing the road in its pale sickle. Samantha listened to their school life, making notes of the potential horrors that could await her if her students weren’t up to snuff- If? More like when.

She did her best to not let the fear seep in, which wasn’t a hard task. She was surrounded by... family. An actual family. One that was as cheeky and lewd and hyper as her, with no worry to walk on eggshells –something she hadn’t realized she had been doing the entire time down in the Halls. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, beaten into submission by the cold November rain.

The car gave Bridget one last praise before resting, and the four entered the store. Which Mahna was on duty. He straightened up, seeing Samantha, and even stowed his magazine.

They split into pairs. Bridget and Tanya retreived snacks while Lola and Samantha were on beer detail. Mahna followed them to the cooler, watching as they mulled over the colored bottles. Samantha tried her best not to peer back, but she could feel him there, feel the... want. The attention. Her cheeks were so hot in that cool box- but she kept her cool, looking over the selection- AND kept her eyes ahead.

“I kind of want this one again,” Samantha said, holding up the blue.

“Nah. Let’s go with this one! I’ve yet to try it,” Lola said, caressing a bottle of dark purple liquid. “Besides, that one sucked.”

“It did, but it had a nice pucker.”

“If you want a nice pucker, the green one is good,” Mahna said. “Mixes well with the one you have, Lola.”

She jumped, but if it had scared her it didn’t show as she used it to skip around Samantha, leaning against him.

“Oh yeah? Care to try it on a body shot?” She said, winked... but cried out as he moved passed, leaning on the stack of blue-canned beer boxes. Looking down into Samantha’s eyes.

“Sure,” he said, rolling his wrist to her. “Are you offering?”

“O... oh my,” Samantha said, panting, and giggled as her face flushed hotter. “W-we’ll take these two- the ones you offered I mea-mean.”

He grazed her hand, taking and putting the blue back... then wrenched the one from Lola’s while picking up the green.

“Of course,” he said, and lead them to the counter. Lola was smirking, though seemed to be sneering whenever Samantha chanced a glance over. It was starting to become hard to tell through the heat around her eyes, that flush so hot it steamed when they left the cooler. She fought to keep her face straight before Mahna turned around again, standing behind the counter. “So... I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Was worried I scared you off.”

“O-of c-c-course not. There was an incident at school, and... well... um...”

“The important thing is you are back, saving me from these drunks.”

“Really? ‘Saving’ you? She’s the worst of us,” Lola said, tittering, and patted Samantha’s shoulder. “She gets really handsy when she drinks. Can’t keep her off anything.”

“Oh? Maybe we can put those hands to good use.”

“I-I d-don’t know.” Samantha said, clearing her throat. “I’ve never touched elf be-”

And the feeling of walking on eggshells was back.

Mahna’s face hardened, all glow gone from his cheeks, scowling at her.

“What did you just say?” He said.

“What... what did I say?”

“Did you just use the E-word?”

“W-what E-Wo- you mean El-”

“Don’t say it again, but yeah!”

“B-but I thought, Lola and all-”

He gave Lola a dirty look. “Lola knows that the E-word is a racial slur. We are Mer.”

“I-I’m sorry. I d-d-didn’t kn-kno-”

He shook his head. With a huff.

“It’s fine. It’s fine... I know we seem a lot like the... things from fantasy books and movies, but that ends with these.”

He tapped his ears, glaring at Lola still. But Samantha felt like she was still over the coals, being raked across them. The heat returned to her face, but it was not a pleasant one this time.

“I-I’m sorry,” Samantha said. “It’s... I’ve never met another Mer before.”

“That’s because there aren’t any others. Only my sister and myself.”

“R-really?”

“Yes... We are incredibly... unique. Very little is known about us.“ He reached across the counter, making her flinch... but eased as he caressed her hand. She lifted her gaze up (realizing that she had looked away), and into his eyes again, his smile returned. Cooling some of the flames, yet rising even more as he squeezed her hands. “Maybe you’d like to... get to know better? Next weekend, per chance? I’m off, and wouldn’t mind... educating a lovely person like you.”

“I... I would l-love t-t-to.”

He chortled, louder as he chanced a kiss on her hand. And made her squeak.

“Good. I’ll see you around nine?” She nodded, and he closed the cash register, handing her the alcohol. “See you then, Samantha.”

“Please. Just Sa-”

He kissed her hand again, shaking his head. “I like Samantha. So... refined.”

“Oh my...”

Lola growled, matching the roll he put in his R, and she dragged her out of the store. Samantha’s gaze was still locked in his eyes, her head in the clouds, rumbling away like the ones above. Bridget and Tanya took their time getting to the car, and Samantha felt the ire of all three witches. At least Bridget though seemed to be trying to hide her envy with a jovial smile, her true intentions felt as she tossed the bags of chips at Samantha as she settled once more into the back seat.

“So, Sam, I heard you got a date with Mahna,” she remarked.

“Just got to rub it in, don’t you?” Lola exclaimed, looking out her window.

“Oh, come on, Lola... We should be encouraging her. Even if we all wanted him for a while. And have been trying for far, far longer.”

“Far longer,” Tanya added, a bit of a hardness to her usual airy tone.

“At least he wants to date one of us. So, tell us everything that happens, okay? Sam... Sam?”

“Yo! Ditz!” Lola shrieked, and squeezed her breasts, pulling her out of the clouds at last.

“Ow! Bitch,” she exclaimed, slapping, but groped back. “What gives?”

“We were just talking about you dating that pointer!”

“Oh. Yeah. He’s got a date with me. What about it?”

“We want all the details,” Bridget said, giggling, though there was more than a touch of bitterness in it. “We’ve been trying to ask him out for a long time. You’re the first one he’s noticed, though.”

“Okay... Isn’t this the wrong way to the park?”

“We aren’t going to the park.”

“Then where are we going?”

“The theater in town finally got a hold of a certain movie,” Tanya said. “We thought we might as well drink to it.”

“What is it?”

“Here’s a hint: Who you gonna call?” Lola said, groaning. “It’s worse than the originals.”

“I liked it,” Bridget mumbled.

“It had its moments,” Tanya said. “It’s still a great piece to drink to.”

“I’ll be needing plenty, then,” Samantha said, already opening a bottle. “I HATED it.”

“Oh. Then... should we reschedule? Do something else?” Bridget said.

“Why? It’ll be better with friends.”

“Well... I just don’t want you ticked at us... again.”

“Again? What are you talking about?”

“Well... you know... with the whole porn thing.”

“Porn... t- oh... no... no!!! You can’t be talking about the first day of school!”

“Oh dear gods! It was better than we thought,” Lola exclaimed, she and Tanya shrieking with laughter while Bridget tried to hide further behind the wheel. “First day! We thought it was first week, but right in the morning?”

“That was you?” Samantha said... laughing as Tanya nodded, making her perk up.

“It was all Lola,” she said.

“BITCH!” Lola shrieked, and slung a whole ton of other words towards their driver. Little more than background noise as Samantha commented.

“Sure, it was embarrassing as hell, but it’s definitely hilarious thinking back. I even covered it up with a bit of math. Used it as a real life example of PEMDAS or BEDMSM or whatever it identifies as this week.”

The car shook with their laughter, bounding off the buildings closing in as they made their way downtown. They passed a simple cafe, a restaurant, given the most room at its corner, but quickly turned seedy. They came to a stop before a very old, crumbling building. There were others already there, scales and pale skin and even some gel shimmering, waiting for the fun to begin. And fun there was; the old building could barely endure as its halls howled with laughter and rumbled with groans, lost to bottle after clinking bottle.

Bridget thought she could stop the hands, but no! No... not in the darkness of that theater, where her top was raised. Her boobs were pulled onto Samantha’s lap, holding her wine coolers so, shivering, pricking by the cold glass. It seemed it wasn’t only her hair that had been saved by the bauble on her hand but also those lovelies; they were their original size again, and didn’t grow as Samantha and Lola wrenched and pinched them.

The movie came to an end, everyone groaning at the dance number, and the four shuffled back to the car. Samantha begrudgingly let her squeeze toys go, passing out in the back... and waking up in her bed. She rushed to the bathroom, and- wanted to give John another offering, but it seemed he was gone. Gone-gone. There was a bucket in its place, with a sticky note attached.

A new one shall be installed by the end of the day, it read. But it mattered not. The bucket could barely house her agony, her misery over the loss of John. Why did he abandon her, now in her most dire hour of n-

“Test day!” She blurted, shot to her feet by the recoil, and tumbled into the bedroom again, to her desk. She had a new desk chair, but that wasn’t important. Not at that moment. She needed to make sure they had been printed out, along with the answer k-

She printed nothing but the answer keys.

“Oh. My. Gods... I’m a fucking idiot!”

“No you’re not!”

Monica blurted behind, laying on the bed. Her head rested on her hands, leaning by Samantha’s head at the desk. After she clawed herself off the ceiling, of course. She beamed at Samantha, her smile a touch tired but... soothing, helping Samantha recover from another small heart attack.

“You are all going to be the death of m- why are you in my bed?”

“You came in late last night- this morning? Time is so weird down here. Bridgy-boo brought you to your room, but you refused to let go of her breasts.” She flushed a little, and rolled over, revealing that she was completely nude. Her breasts were a touch red, but their nips were perked, aching to be held again. “I offered in place... I was a bit hurt when you said they weren’t as big, but at least they were still nice, and we slept together.”

“... Thanks?”

She tittered, moaning as she rubbed them, and bit her lip.

“Don’t mention it. It’s part of becoming the best prostitute ever: to comfort your client, no matter the demand... Of course, I’d rather it continued into both of us having a fun time, but it worked for you, teach, and that’s what matters.”

“Wow. That’s... actually really... well, awesome, Monica. Never thought about it like that b- will you stop fingering yourself while I’m trying to compliment you?”

“Sorry. It was... well, you have really good hands.”

“Get out... or get over here. I could use a few stress balls!” She rolled off the bed, giggling still, and knelt before her, sighing as Samantha groped her chest, waiting for the printer to print the twelve tests... twelve out of thirteen... “So, when are we getting the thirteenth student?” Samantha mulled... to herself, it seemed. She pinched Monica’s chest. “Hey!”

She cried out... and Samantha felt both a bit guilty and a touch disgusted for what she added to the carpet. Monica’s thighs still shuddered, coated in the same musk as she opened her eyes, for the most part, and looked up at Samantha.

“Sorry,” Monica mumbled, lost in a daze. “What was that, mistress?”

“I said, when are we getting our thirteenth student?”

“You’re expecting another?”

“Yeah. I was originally told there would be thirteen.”

“I don’t know, but I hope their hands are a-ah... as good as yours.”

Samantha sighed... but smiled down at her all the same, continuing to knead. She pulled her into her lap, squirming so as she made sure the tests were ready, made sure they matched up to the answer keys –which one ended up soaked. Monica Rodriguez: artiste, musician... prostitute. Everyone needs a dream, even those old enough to have possibly lived them all.

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