Witching Hour

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Along Came a Drider

Samantha moaned, clawing at the sheets, biting the pillow thrice over before she was pulled from it by Mahna, kissing her, tasting, taking her tongue for himself. He rubbed her breasts, manhood throbbing, bobbing against her side, starting to stick with pre, shaken loose as Minos thrust between her rear, coating it in his love as well. Her back already had a nice wash of it, hot against her skin, caked in sweat and other things. Mahna had left her a nice patch on her stomach, extending just under her breasts, smearing it with each small movement.

She gripped his, stroking it, teasing up to the head, engorging again at her attention –stolen by Minos. He smacked her rump, twice, and turned her over into his arms. He groped at her ass still, tugging her left leg up, allowing his long, equine member to rub against her, drooling, but Mahna wasn’t giving up without a fight. He pulled her back against him, and Minos followed, straddling her chest, twitching, looming towards her mouth. Mahna’s pressed against her lower lips, teasing, slowly inching in before abandoning all subtlety and fully piercing her, his balls its clash, smacking hard against her thighs. She yelped then moaned, stolen, muffled by Minos’s member, making her jaw ache far more than Mahna’s ever could as that fist-sized top fully closed off any air. Her gags, her pants, her coughs only made it thrust harder, deeper in, leaving behind its musky trail so that it could go ever faster. Her head was in the clouds, tears streaming down her face as her tongue lulled off to the side of it all, but Minos would not let it be idle, forced to strike, to bounce up against as he pinched and slapped her breasts.

Samantha reached up and rubbed his horns, making him groan and moan and quicken even more. His tongue lulled, braying gently, and his hands mauled at her breasts even more, her chest aching against his ever-increasing thrusts. She yelped, quivered, then gushed as Mahna smacked her ass, still thrusting inside even as he played with her clit and folds. As she drew closer to unconsciousness, everything only seemed to become more sensitive, every little death drawing her closer to the real one, but she would gladly accept it in this state, washed in ecstasy.

“The tip,” Minos blurted. He gasped, panted as he quickly withdrew his member from her throat. The purple tip had deepened to a black, and, with one, loud, booming bellow, he washed her face in his love. He filled her mouth with the first shot of that hot passion, getting her in the eyes with the second and third, her face lost to that sticky drink. Minos seemed locked, clawing, wrenching at her hands still on his horns, but his member simply kept hosing her down, until, at last, with one last twitch, he fell off to the side. He panted hard, caressing her face, wiping it from her eyes and onto her breasts, playing with them still, and she was finally allowed to see Mahna thrust inside. Each thrust into her seemed to make the room burst with light, her heart leap and die, feeling him grow and thicken, ready t-

Beep, beep, motherfucker.

“I. Fucking. Hate. School!” Samantha said, growing from a croak to a full wail as she turned off her phone’s alarm. She contemplated making it an addition to the ceiling, but chose to throw her sneakers at it, instead. Her whole body ached, sore, but not as sore nor the kind of soreness she so desperately craved. Last weekend was only a taste, and she regretted that it was only a taste. She beat her fists against the bed, laughed, almost bitterly, as her rump continued to thrum, remembering those men rubbing against it, those members that had been inside it. At least it was Friday, but still another three weeks away from another date- which, sadly, coincided with another lovely time of the month. Samantha didn’t know how Mahna felt about the idea, but she wasn’t certain she was ready to give him his red wings yet. Also, another bit of good news: she only had to teach one more week, then was off. Lovely, wonderful, merciful Thanksgiving... at least down here. Upstairs, they had to keep teaching; whether that means anyone showed up was the real question.

Ah, but once more she was only delaying the inevitable. A hobby now more than simply a habit, a test to see how far she could before something, anything forced her to do her job. She sighed, and sat up at last...

Giving Norman a bored look.

He sat in the chair, smiling at her. His baby blue shirt clashed against its red fabric, tucked into a pair of nice black dress pants. She tossed the blanket aside, grabbed her clothes from the chest of drawers, and grumbled as she headed to the bathroom in all her bare glory. It was her room after all; damned be anyone who entered. They must suffer the wrath of her fine, black ass, or do the actual, right thing and not be there in the first place. Instead, Norman simply rolled the chair to the door, chuckling as she slammed it before he got there.

“Morning, teach!” He boomed. “Are you ready for another fantabulous day of school?”

“Eat me,” she grumbled, turning the spigots –and, of course, the water wasn’t nuclear the moment she did. Couldn’t it be, just once? She sighed a heavy, irate sigh, and sat on the edge of the shower. “Why are you brightening my doorstep this day?”

“It’s just been a while since we talked –outside of hunts, I mean-”

“And tests and overviews-”

“Yes, but those are limited.”

“Your fault for getting A’s and B’s. You don’t need me as much as, say, Monica!”

He hissed, his hair ruffling heard through the door.

“Yeah... Is it true she somehow got NEGATIVE ten percent?”

“Of course not.” She actually got negative five. She not only cheated, but put her name as True, then tried to tell me that it was because she was being honest. She shook her head, and stepped into the shower at last, welcoming the hot, steamy curtain. She heard the door open, and groaned, lathering her hair. “Thank goodness she is an artistic savant, but I have a question. Why does no one respect my privacy? I don’t barge into your rooms and ruffle through your things or walk into your DAMN BATHROOM WHEN YOU ARE IN IT.”

“I’m not looking. I swear.”

“But you’re still in here. What’s so important that you have to talk to me this instant?”

“Well... I heard you were seeing someone. Someone, you know, not Minos-”

“Why does everyone assume that? Have you not seen him boning the fuck out of Monica?”

“But you are seeing someone else, right?”

“Why does it -hold on... Ah! Okay- matter?”

“W-well, there may be other parties who want to know-”

“Minos sent you, didn’t he?”

“What? No! Of course n-”

“Why can’t he get it through his thick skull that there is no hope for us? I’m with Mahna now. He had his chance, and chose to give in to that two-bit whore instead of just saying his feelings to me. Sure, I would have still turned him down, but there wouldn’t be this cloak-and-dagger, soap-opera bullshit. There would be no sending a third-party to intervene to gather intel to use later. No! If he just came to me, right now, and told me there was a chance instead of all this planning bullshit, I would have had some respect for the fucking moron, but no! He’s plotting to ruin it all by sending you or Monica or Buffy or Muffy or whoever the fuck all he can t-”

“Easy, Sam! It’s just me. I swear! Breathe... J... breathe, Sam... You good?”

She sighed, and washed out the conditioner, preparing her floof with her lavender-wild berry body scrub.

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “Sorry. Guess I ju... He gets under my skin, you know, and everyone that asks about it.”

“I know. I can feel how your heart throbs for him-”

She threw open the curtain.

“Excuse me?”

He simply smiled, but was telling the truth. His eyes were closed, fingers creased together over them, though it was a rather fruitless task, given his condition. She could have sworn he had made some archaic spell with how his hands convulsed and twitched, but they did make a heart at one point, which made him chuckle.

“I told you,” he said, “I’m more in touch with ones love than their lust, and you are just a wash of color, a true spectacle to look upon.”

“I thought you said you weren’t looking at me!”

“Not like that. Seeing is such a poor word for the vortex of hues, the... hurricane of shades that swirl from you, torn this way and that, unsure where it should land. I haven’t seen beauty like that in such a long, long time.” He blushed, giggling, and cupped his cheeks. “I’m rather giddy just being near it, and jealous.”

“J... jealous? Jealous!”

“Yeah. I’ll never feel that level of love. Ever. Even if I do get close to someone who feels like that to me, I know it’ll be tainted by the lust that comes with it... and the wishes that want to be said, which grow into loathing until they finally enact them and... and...”

Samantha closed the curtain again with a huff... but found a single tear blotting her left eye. And the water was still a touch too cold, making a shiver run down her spine.

“So, you came to talk to me about Mahna, huh?” She said, grimacing at how her voice broke.

“That’s the guy that has you like this?”

“I suppose. He’s... a sweet guy... Though, I’m not sure if he’s being exactly honest with me.”


“He’s telling me he’s dated my friends in the past.”

“Who? Marcy? Monica?”

“You know I have friends outside of this place, right?”

“No, actually.”

“Oh. Right. Don’t talk too much.”

“Yup... so?”

“The three witches upstairs, my coven sisters. Bridget Deckard, Lola Strout, and Tanya Bosley.”


“I’d love to be in that sandwich... well, sandwiches now isn’t it, Samantha?” Minos boomed, his laughter bounding through the restroom, making her temple throb. “Here I thought this whole time you were playing hooker.”

“Don’t you mean hooky?” Norman said.

“No. The manwhore means hooker,” Samantha grumbled... making sure the curtain was completely creased on both walls. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

“Checking on my favorite teacher.”

“But she’s your only teacher.” Norman stated.

“Which makes her the worst teacher, too.”

“But the best you’re going to get,” Samantha said. “Seriously. If I don’t answer my door, that’s not an invitation to investigate. You can go now.”

“But Norman gets to stay,” he whined.

“Not anymore. Both of you, out... OUT!”

She waited for their feet to fade, for the metal door to ring shut before getting out, and her mind was allowed to mull on her last visit to Scarlette. She had another visitor, a fang from Japan, though she didn’t get her name, nor did Samantha let her be seen –for her benefit. She was in the room before the T-junction, strapped to the wall, whimpering, her large breasts pert and bare for all to see. Samantha looked her over, ignored her pleas, her begging, feeling a touch guilty when she winced against her hand, rubbing her wrist.

Rubbing the line of code on it.


Samantha tried searching that code when she returned to her room, but to no avail... She had seen others marked like that before, but there was no way she was involved in that time period. Given her dialect, she couldn’t have been older than forty, forty-five tops, and she looked to have been turned when she was of-age. Though several days have passed, that line still stuck with her.

That, and the halls under.

She only braved a few steps, and even those few gave her more than a few questions, seeing the tops of those... things. There were large vats, filled with glowing purple ooze, staining their copper bodies, giving them a sickening red hue, but there was something else inside them, something... floating. She would have gone further, saw it wholly, if she didn’t hear voices, echoing, groaning up the stairs. She didn’t know how much time she had, but she couldn’t brave any more, doubling back to the classroom.

Fading into her mirror, done with her shower at last.

She wiped it clean, preparing for the day, unsure of what was going to happen now. She was almost a third of the way through Maths, entering ground she had no idea how to really dab on. Science became Junmei’s authority, much to her and Marcy’s displeasure but Buffy’s joy. She had never seen that harpy so happy; even forced Ayn into a separate seat, wearing such daring low cut shirts. It was a wonder she didn’t bare all for him. She even gave up hunting, giving the game to Marcy, whom made Samantha feel like a god in the game in comparison. As much as she loved the feeling, she hated seeing Marcy so down... or the blood lust she had in class. But, speaking of class, there was still the matter of art and music, and how could Samantha teach that? It has become interpretation; as long as they tried, and got somewhere near what Monica was doing, they were fine.

Music, meanwhile, became Pill Popping 101.

She took four more ibuprofen, just finishing the warm-ups, and raised her baton.

“Alright. It’s time for an actual song,” she grumbled, whimpering to herself.

“After a whole fucking month,” Ayn said.

“I’m sorry, but who was struggling to keep their tone steady? For a succubus, you suck at blowing.”

“Eat me, nigga-”

“Everyone’s got Pachelbel’s Canon, yes?” Samantha boomed over, sneering down at Ayn as the others chuckled around –save for Bella. She had groaned, and leaned forward on her sax, her hands clasped.

“Must we? This song is SO overdone,” she said.

“Exactly why we’re doing it, though if you will check and make sure you don’t have a double-sided instead of two pages-”

“No. I got t-”

“Check. Anyways.”

She did, and read the note there, everyone waiting... laughing as she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“No. I don’t.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

“I do, though,” Monica exclaimed, waving her page.

“No one cares,” Ayn exclaimed. “You probably helped make it, anyways.”

Monica blushed a little, cupped her cheeks, and the last hour was lost to failure after failure –mostly on Ayn’s side. By the end, she was grumbling, replacing two strings on her cello while everyone else was leaving. Samantha headed to her room. She had sat in the desk chair, counted to 180 twice over, doing four full cycles both directions, before standing and opening her door. Another two minutes passed before Bella sidled around the corner and crawled along the wall and into her room, settling on the bed. Her brow was furrowed, her arms crossed, her smallest legs rubbing away in front of her, allowing small glimpses of someplace far softer than the rest of her chitin, glistening in the light.

“What’s this about Scarlette?” She said. “What did you mean she was still in the school.”

“She’s still here... The last of her, anyways.”

“What are you-”

“It would be better if I showed you, but it’s not that simple. I know I’m hitting you with a lot of info, creating a shitton of questions, but I need you to be patient with me. Okay?” Samantha grabbed her hands, and looked her in the... biggest of eyes. Those jet black gems shimmered with want, with fear and confusion and need, only brightening as Samantha stared into them. Next test, I want you to ‘fail’ it. You’ll do it the day before in here, but simply walk out about, oh, two minutes after I leave. I’ll be waiting for you by the door and we can go to her.”

“But... why?”

“She wants to see you... you want to see her. Lilith told her you were gone-”

“Wait. Lilith knows?”

Samantha nodded. “From what Scarlette has told me, it was her fault she’s there to begin with.” She cleared her throat, and squeezed Bella’s hands harder, biting her lip as she did. “I can’t tell you how much time we have, but we need to be quick once we are out there. In here, I can just feel her, but, as long as I am not trying to contact her, she doesn’t seem to be able to read my mind. Out there, though... that’s an entirely different story. She knows I go on walks, to ‘free my head’, but she doesn’t know where I go... at least, I think so. She hasn’t caught me yet, and, if she really wanted to stop me, she would.”

“True enough, but now, with two of us out there, won’t she find that rather suspicious?”

Samantha chuckled sheepishly, and gulped hard as her hands slowly let go of Bella’s, sliding up her arms to her shoulders, rubbing them rather... intimately.

“That’s the real reason I invited you here,” Samantha said, cheeks burning, “why I need you to trust me.”

“Y... you want t-”

“It’s for Scarlette. If I could, I’d bring her back, but the next best bet is to have the nasty rumor that I’m having sex with another student, and got too bold.” Her hands eased down from Bella’s shoulders and onto her breasts. They weren’t as nice as any of the witches, but they had a nice firmness to them, their black tips rising under her palms, pushed in, rubbed, massaged so. Her fingers dug into the soft flesh, slowly working towards those tips, and gripped them, making Bella gasp, but neither broke eye contact. “So how about it, Bella? Want to have a hot affair with your teach-”

Bella kissed her. There was no doubt, no hesitation to the action, accompanied by a throaty moan. The drider pulled Samantha back onto the bed, readjusting to allow her abdomen to bob off it, leaking with webbing, as Bella caressed her hair, pulling on it as she moaned and sighed against her lips, tittering.

“Or... you could just be honest with me,” Bella said, nipping Samantha’s lip. When she withdrew, a touch of blood ran down her lips, as well as a bit of green venom, working its way through Samantha’s system. She squirmed in the drider’s embrace, her body on fire, hips thrusting against her as he legs became jelly. Bella nipped her nose, cooing as she reached down and undid Samantha’s jeans, pushing her hand in. “I’m not against the idea of two women being together, after all.”

“B... b-ahh,” Samantha manged to say, panting hard as she rocked against Bella’s hand. Her tongue lulled against her lip, starting to puff, and the world seemed to melt before her, becoming a sea of color. “I’m telling the t-tru-”

Bella shushed her, and pushed her head against her breasts, moaning as the world faded to colors.

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