Witching Hour

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Ticking off

The clock tick, tick, ticked away. Its neon green hands were all the color Junmei’s room had to offer now that the lights were on. Save, of course, for the wonderful worlds of black, white, gray, and everyone’s favorite: brown. All by his choice, as he had put those layers of cloth up on the walls to add that bit of “color” to an otherwise steel shell. There was no carpet in this cell, but it was set up much like Norman’s –and hers.

Junmei was in the center of the room, while she stood by the door. Open. His tail was coiled thrice, allowing him to sit back on it, looking far more comfortable than Samantha has felt since she returned to his abode. Or ever will feel, if this meeting was any indication. His arms were crossed before his tan chest, untouched by any shirt nor cloth all the way down to his phallic folds, which what laid behind them was (thankfully) hidden... for now.

The naga glowered at Samantha, counting the ticks as much as her. His yellow eyes gleamed in that box, while his black hair stole the luster of the silver folds on either side, twitching, matching his tail as each tick passed, acting as the clock’s pendulum. Samantha’s hands shuddered, held before her, gaining their own bit of silver, which didn’t go unnoticed. Each tick made the metal jump an inch more, almost to a full two feet of shimmering metal, and more jagged than the end of that tail. With any luck, they will never have to meet.

Samantha cleared her throat for the twentieth time, but this time added a small chuckle, taking away the clock’s glory.

“R-right,” she managed to even sputter out this time. “Good mo-”

“Morning,” he repeated himself. His accent was heavy; he hit the N too hard, and let the G lilt, far more than he had let it done earlier in the day.

“Oh. That’s right. We already said that, didn’t w-”

“Yes.” He sighed, almost a hiss, shaking his head. “For heavens sake. Do not be afraid. I mean no harm, but, please, get on with it! I value my solitude.”

And pussy, but I suppose you have no interest in the darker variety, she thought, glaring at him. No. Not at him. At his skin. The docket said he was African... I keep forgetting Egypt is counted in that... Most likely only came here to fuck some whole milk vanilla Amerif-

She shook her head again, hoping that her smile hadn’t waned during that thoughtful tirade.

“Well, I guess being here is like heaven then, huh?” She said, chuckling, giggling... fading. He was unfazed, but at least not disgusted. She cleared her throat again, feeling ever smaller with each passing tick, rising in anger, out of spite for what she had done to it earlier. “That was a j-”

“I know,” he stated. “It was rather funny.”

His tone said otherwise... She cleared her throat even louder, covering the rising ticks.

“So... Junmei-”

“Please. Call me Bar.” He pronounced the R as an L letting it hiss through his smile, flashing his fangs.

“Right. Bar... Why are you here again? I mean, it said in your transcript it was for multiple accounts of sexual assault, b-”

“It was, but not as you think. I was but the fall guy.”

“No one in jail is guilty, ri-” She let slip, and scoffed at both herself and those infernal ticks. “Sorry about that. It’s-”

He guffawed, nodding. “Ah, now that was good. It might seem like that, but I can assure you. I am not entirely guilty.”

“But you are guilty? Is that what I am getting from this?”

“I am, but not as serious as one might think. One of the ladies didn’t seem to appreciate that I was seeing so many others.”

“Were you dating her?”

“I mean, I was having dates with her, but I wasn’t ready to settle down. Isn’t that what you Americans do? Date around and see who best fits you? I have no idea why she was so jealous; I never said I wanted to be with her.” He groaned, his silver folds rising, and looked away. “That woman- no. She was no women by the end. She was... a monster... She threatened the others if they ever got near. I lost count of how many times I told her we weren’t together, but it was never enough. It was all understood by everyone that we were but dating, but that didn’t stop her. She came at me with a knife when I was saying my goodbyes.”

“Your... goodbyes?”

“Yes. I couldn’t imagine putting them through that anymore, so I was cutting all ties. I had hoped that would have calmed her and let her lose interest, but then that day... I had to defend myself. If I hadn’t...”

“So just one large case of misunderstanding?”

He nodded, and rattled his tail. And loosed. It was far faster than Samantha expected, but thankfully it was aimed up. It scraped a long line through the ceiling, sparking one of the lights there. His smile was gone, his hood quivering to life as it threatened to spill open from the dark thoughts swirling in those yellow eyes.

“Why is it you Americans are so... so binary? Rather, why are you all so... To have that kind of... of... zealotry for an act that is most primal, most basic of animal instincts, it’s... downright barbaric!” His hood unfurled, and revealed a pair of golden eyes on each side. Their middles were bright green, while dark red lines pulsed and throbbed and wove in between them, stitching the folds together. The folds on each side seemed to hook just over his forehead, his hair a black jewel just seen against the silver scales, shimmering, coldly, in the dim light. “The amount of times that THING called campus security on me- I have done nothing wrong! I am but doing what any normal person would do, and yet I am the one punished? I was, not the crazy harlot that caused all of this? Because of your country’s backwards ways and hypocritical approaches, I have been imprisoned here for simply being a man!”

Samantha waved her hands before her, wishing now more than ever that she had chosen someone else first. She didn’t care if he thought it was rude anymore, especially with her claws tearing into his “curtains” ripping ribbon after ribbon down with each flail, but at least she tried to keep her smile in place. And kept it, too. All those years at school, those hours, days, weeks of volunteering to help teach snot-nosed brats; she would show she gained at least this.

“Whoa! Hey! Don’t lump us all into one,” she said. “I, for one, am not even wanting the sex. Nor the relationship, really.” She added the last in sotto, grumbling.

Junmei cocked his head at that, though, his tail rattling.

“Oh? So you are a spinster? Someone as lovely as you having no one? I suppose you have focused so much into your work-”

“I am not a spinster! I wouldn’t go that far, either.” Seems I was believable... A bit TOO believable... “So... uh... What do you want to be when you grow u-”


“You want to be a scientis-”

“No. I AM a scientist. I achieved my doctorate back in my homeland when I was 27. I came here first as a TA then as a tutor, wanting to become a teacher. I heard this school was lacking in terms of science teachers, and wanted to help my brethren as best as I can.”

She nodded, still shivering, but holding onto her smile. “A noble goal, Bar-”

But she couldn’t hold back her scream as he sprung on her, gripping her shoulders. His tail rattled behind, slashing at the wall, between where her own claws tore away the cloth. She could see now that the cloth wasn’t put up for any purpose but to hide his more... violent tendencies as he left fresh etchings in the scars that came before. His eyes, both sets, shined as his hands shook on her shoulders.

“I cannot take it anymore!” He bellowed, and shot a wide-eyed glare back at the clock. “I am so sick of this. All of this. Tell me you are going to help me. You will, yes? You are going to help me out of this nightmare?”

“I-I’ll try my b-b-best-”

“Do not be afraid. You have no reason to be... though from the muscles in your arm...” He squeezed more, looking down her, which was both a blessing and a curse. Her smile had broken, her terror etched in her face... but also a soft warmth was kindling in her cheeks, feeling his gaze pierce through her clothes. She shuddered a little at the hunger in his eyes, knowing it all too well, but had her smile in place again as he stared into her eyes. “You are incredibly fit, but hide it well.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, fighting hard not to pant as the room started to fill with a familiar, musky scent... She shook her head, and pushed against his arms, wincing as his nails gripped harder instinctively. “Could you-”

“Oh! Sorry.” He let her go, though the way his face twisted showed it was against his wishes. He backed into his suspended bed, coiling his tail around it, and the springs inside creaked from the force. And Samantha was thankful she wasn’t really looking at him again. She was staring at his phallic folds, and the two, purple tips starting to jut out. It was his turn to clear his throat, and her vision fluttered up to his chest, and his hands clasped there. “I... Please... I just want to help people. My libido might have gotten me in here, but it was all for the sake of finding love.”

“Maybe that was the problem.” She said. Without thinking. But he chortled again, nodding at it, and, after another moment, she stood. She made absolutely sure she had the strength in her legs. At that moment, she doubted she wanted to show even a hint of weakness, physically or otherwise. Especially after her cuts. She trotted over to him, each step even, making her heels clack hard in the box, and patted his hands, nodding as he eased back. Turns out she wasn’t the only one shaking. “I’ll do what I can, but you have to meet me in the middle. I can’t do it on my own.”

“I know. I plan to give it my all, Ms. Coffey.”

Samantha would have corrected his pronunciation, but she felt herself warm even more with how he let the F’s roll into a V. He let her go, and he slowly uncoiled, settling back on his tail once more, waving her off as she tried her best to look nonchalant fleeing through the door. At least she made it down the hall before squealing. Metal dripped away behind it, freeing her hands wholly, which was a good thing. She rubbed her arms, digging her nails in a touch to still her quivering. If she had the claws, there would be no arms left to scratch. She had fought so long, but her shoulders reeked of those scales, of the... the musty... the rotting cucumber sme- and the arousing scent that came after, too, making her want to actually... to actually...

Her feet hammered up her steps. The bathroom door barely had time to open, slamming against it as she hammered the button, and managed to squeeze through and barely make it to the basin before her stomach let loose. Her retching echoed off the walls, back aching, cracking as she gave her offering to the porcelain lord thrice over. One hand held its cool body, while the other had caught her hair, as short as it was... Habit.

She flushed it for the fourth time as she heaved a long sigh at last, and let go of her head, checking her cell.

“Hell,” she croaked, and burped, gagging as that disgusting bubble caught in her throat. At least the ticking was gone... if only the same were TRUE ABOUT THE WHINING- oh, what was she kidding. She was doing more of that that than the entire- “Oh, hell! I’m running late for Jack... the first J... was it the first J- yeah. It was horny- horned Jack, though both work... Minos. That’s what they called him. It’s not Jack that was Jack the Rippe- wait. THE Jack the Ripper? How the h... One of those times to not really ask. Maybe when we’re all comfortable. And I am not stalling.” And not talking to herself. To be fair to herself, her head didn’t have the room to hold all of it at the moment... She cooed a little, and hugged the John even tighter, moaning a little. “Oh, but it’s so nice to stall. This toiled would never hurt me, and it takes the piss and puts up with my shit all day long.”

“You would be surprised,” the toilet said.

She blinked, and started at it a moment, wondering how it talked without lowering its lid. It was quite talented for saying B’s without any lips. Maybe John was the perfect man, after all. If only it didn’t have such a high-pitched voice- which, actually, turned out to really belong to a rather pale... yet still tanned girl in the doorway.

The girl was easily a head shorter than Samantha, no small feat, but right now she seemed to loom over her, still kneeling by the throne, the true King. Her black hair was tied back into two, long braids, swinging side to side as she cocked her head, and always seemed to be bubbling with giggles. Meanwhile, it was her attire that shocked Samantha the most; she was only wearing a two-piece bathing suit, though even calling it that was generous. Her “top” was little more than a few squares of turquoise fabric, held against her nips with thin black string, already unloosing against the sheer weight of what they had to conceal, whereas her “bottoms” would have made G-strings blush with how obscene and pointless it was.

The girl cocked her head the other way, and seemed to have a natural bounce to everything she did, rising as she readied to speak again.

“Hope you don’t mind! Your door was open, and I was dying to meet the teach.”

Samantha... she stood, hugging herself like she wanted to hold her John. But she knew it couldn’t hold her back, truly the saddest of fates to have a lover that can’t consort. She looked into those green eyes before her gaze was forced down upon a larger pair, jiggling before the girl, forced out by her constant bouncing. The girl bowed, and those large eyes lost their blinders completely, falling to the floor and letting her jugs spill forth at last. Their cherry tips seemed always perked, but even then they seemed to grow even more under Samantha’s gaze, quivering and absolutely loving the attention.

“Whoopsie! Can never get this one tight enough,” the girl said, giggling, and picked the top up, letting her lovelies wobble a bit in Samantha’s vision. She slung it over her left arm as she righted, but did not tie it back on, instead giving Samantha a big hug. “Hi hi! I’m Monica!”

“N-nice to meet you, Monica,” Samantha managed to say, her cheeks scarlet. “Would you mind-”

“Oh, of course!”

She knelt, raising Sam’s sk-

“W-what are you doing!”

“What? I thought you wanted inaugural oral. First day on the job, after all.”

“No! G... get up! J... Get. Up!” She sat back on the throne, welcoming her in her hour of need, and rubbed her forehead... glowering as Monica ‘helped’. How she massaged her- thighs, that is, her fingers roaming, groping, easing them further apart as she pushed in betw- stopped by Samantha. “May I help you?”

“In lots of ways, but I’ll settle for asking to do it now.”

“I’m not having sex!”

The girl shook her head and stood, allowing Samantha to close her legs at last. They clapped with how fast she did, and Samantha found herself cradling her legs on the toilet, making sure Monica couldn’t get near them again. John would protect her, if it came to it.

“No! Not that!” Monica squeaked, and rubbed her cheeks, her giggles taking on a... more tawdry notion. “I meant the whole personal meeting thingy. It won’t be long. For instance, I’m here because I love sex! Sex sex sex! All the sex! All the positions! All the genders!”

“All two?”

She gasped, and reeled back a step, holding her left cheek with both hands.

“Surely you don’t mean that! There are tons, and they are all fun! When I get out of here, I want to be the best courtesan the world has ever seen.”

“Maybe you should aim a bit higher.”

She took another step back, almost in tears. “But why? Being the world’s best c-”





“A single woman can’t be a harem.”

“Not with that attitude! I want to be the best at sex.” She cupped her chest, waggling them towards Samantha. “Just look at these tits. They are made to have fun!” She gave them a small slap before running her hands down her sides, all the way to her waist. “Look at these curves! This soft body. Not entirely obese, but enough to grab on. My hips are perfect for gripping as one takes from behind, and speaking of.” She turned around, leaned against the wall, and shook her rotund rear. “This ass has junk in its trunk! Give it a good smack- Nah! I’ll do it for you- Ah! See? So good! And look, look!”

She peeled aside her bikini bottom, and Samantha was both mortified yet surprised with just how much it had hidden.

“Oh good lord,” Samantha grumbled, feeling a bit green.

“I know right? Look at all that hair! All natural. No disease nor louse to be seen. I’ll be the best damn fuck for so many people!” She sighed, whimsically... yes, whimsically. So full of whimsy was she to be proud and dreamed of that fact as she looked off into the blank wall of the bathroom. How her green eyes twinkled, her cheeks burning so bright as Samantha watched small rivulets of need run down her leg, as if on command. Her hips, also, gyrated, as if there was a phantom taking full advantage. They must have been doing well with how she bit her lip and moaned –it was John, wasn’t it! That... that jerk! How could he?

Thankfully, she was brought back to reality with five snaps, more than Samantha could say. She could still see John standing behind her, using its lever to fondle and tease that girls most private of areas, all while its reservoir top leered at her, knowing it was making her jeal- It didn’t make Samantha feel any more comfortable, though, as a more friendly thought took hold. Perhaps it was the spirit of the thirteenth taking advantage. Yeah! That’s it! Maybe the thirteenth was a wraith or a wight, and here she was far away from her seat. Exposed.

Monica giggled again, as if she ever stopped, and pulled on one of her braids as she turned around completely to Samantha again.

“I guess it’s rather silly, huh?” She said.

“You could say that,” Samantha muttered, a bit sour for the first line of thought.

“I know, but it’s what I’ve always wanted! I want to be the very best at sex, like no one ever was.”

Samantha sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, and gestured to the door.

“Well, at least you have a dream. Do well in class, and you may just achieve it.”

“D... do you really...” She squealed, and threw herself on Samantha. Samantha cried out, as well, barely managing to fumble back to the toilet, where Monica straddled her. Now John had a threesome; had he no sh- Focus, Sam! Focus! The would-be whore looked her in the eyes, her lips quivering, begging to push forward onto her teacher’s, but Samantha made sure her head was as far back as she could. Painfully so. “This is going to be so awesome.”

“I... I bet... I need to go, you know.”

Monica cooed, caressing Samantha’s shoulders, grinding against her waist.

“No... Not yet... This feels too nice.”

For you. You’re crushing me! “I need to go see another s... student.”

“Oh? Who? Is it Peter? Is he really going to talk to you!” She smacked Samantha’s chest, giggling harder. “Lucky! He’s such a hunk! He always ignores me, though.”

I wonder why. Sounds like a true gentlemen. “No, not yet. He’s Thursday. I... I am due to s... see- ah! Watch where your hand I... is.”

“Sorry! Force of habit.”

She stood, and Samantha could breathe again... fixing her panties before she, too, joined.

“Anyways, I have to go see Jack.”

“Which one? Gay Jack, or horny Jack?”

“Gay Jack?”

“Yeah! He won’t even look at a woman. Sure, he glares at me from time to time, but I don’t bother barking up that tree. Limpy limp limp.”

“So... I guess I am seeing horny Jack?”

“Ooh! Can you tell him to talk to me? I’ve been wanting to meet him so bad, but he wants nothing to do with me, which makes me a sad Monica. I want to be his friend, we all do, but he keeps us out. Well, aside Bella, but that was before- oh, you’ll find that out later. For now, just put in a word for me, ’kay!”

“I’ll do my best.”

She clapped her hands, bouncing in place. “Thankies!”

And she skipped out of the room, leaving behind her bikini. And, thankfully, Samantha. At peace at last.

Samantha heaved another, weary sigh, Why do I have a feeling this is going to be a habit? She lumbered to the sink and opened its medicine cabinet, thanking whoever invented ibuprofen, and gnashed them up before swallowing, hard. After hearing how horny Jack would be waiting for her, she took her sweet time heading downstairs once more. Surely, he was man enough to last as long as possible, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t shoot off before she ever reached his door- oh, but maybe another person will ignore her sign.

Not like any of them cared about the work poured into it, she thought, humming softly as she made her way to the beginning of the hall. Not even Lilith.

She was still sullen about that; she had done her best to make that sign both professional yet casual, to be both authoritative and yet show she wasn’t all business. Though, after Monica, she wished she had given off that kind of demeanor... No matter. What’s done is done. All that was left was to move on... one slow, lavishing step at a time, one languishing stroke of the clock with each stride towards Jack’s. There were no more ticks, only strokes. Thank. Gods... She reached it, though, and knocked on it... and knocked... and knocked aga-

“It’s your professor,” she said at the door, sliding the shield away... the room pitch black. Is he really going through with this? She took a step back, letting some light in from the hall, but still nothing could be seen. No bed. No man on it, disrobed, rubbing his long, protruding member. Nothing. Which only made her hammer against the door harder. “Hello? Jack? Jack! Come on... don’t be this way... I’m sorry I’m late. I was hung up by Monica- er, I didn’t mean it like that. I was feeling a bit sick, so had to use the rest... room...”

She sighed, and turned, sliding her back down the door.

Great. The first day, and the students already don’t give a flying fiddler’s f-

She heard a flush, and bolted to her feet, seeing light flood from the door in the back. Someone- rather something stepped out of it, walking across and to the door, cloaked in shadow. It was dense, looming, giving to the metal as it screeched open, and two red eyes glared down at her. It stepped back, and though no words were exchanged Samantha knew it wanted her to come in.

It let her, then shut the door again.

Time slowed to a stop. She could hear its growling breath grow only to leave, seeming to circle, before it grunted, and a single, tiny lamp sparked to life in the corner, finally giving some life to the giant before her. His picture did not do him justice; he was easily seven feet tall. His horns added three more, those blackened tips curled twice before pointing straight out. Each was thicker than her thighs, and polished to a shine. But, even then, they were dwarfed by the rest of his sheer bulk. His dark shoulders easily spanned four of her, his chest twice, but not a single ounce of fat could be seen on them or his stomach, the rest of him barely concealed in dark purple pants. Sadly, they bagged enough around his middle so that she couldn’t gauge what awaited, but if it at least reached half his thigh, it would fit in her thrice over. Easily.

The man crossed his arms, and smirked, biting his lip.

“Alright. You ain’t too bad,” he said, his voice gruff, deep, and grabbed the waist of his pants. “Let’s start with some oral and go from there.”

“E... excuse me?”

“Ah, but maybe later. After all, you’re on the clock; can’t expect you to be on the cock at the same time.” He leaned back, and groaned as he plopped onto his bed. It crackled, already little more than some cotton and a bit of wire. He pushed his finger tips together, keeping them all parted, and pointed them at Samantha. “Minos. Serephan Minos.”

“Minos? But it said you’re name was J-”

“That’s the name THEY gave me. MY name is Serephan Minos.”

“Right. Okay. Let me just... jot that down.” She pulled out her cell from her jacket pocket, writing down something other than that name, the words she chose far more fitting than ever calling him an angel. She ended it with an exclamation mark, then put it away, the note she made more than enough to keep her smile. “My name is-”

“Samantha Coffey. Was it irony or fate that made your skin the same color... possibly the same taste, the same refreshment as your name?”

This time she did let her eyes roll, and made sure he could see it.

“You know how many times I have heard that before? It’s super old. I curse Mister King every day for ever writing that line.”

He chortled, and leaned a bit forward, looking into Samantha’s eyes.

“I still think a sample would be in or-”

“SO they say you are the last minotaur.”

… He huffed, crossed his legs, and a small tail flitted out the back of his drawers, a dainty thing compared to the rest of him.

“I am.”

“You... you don’t have the same... well, build as the old minotaurs, though. You have normal feet, legs, and are virtually hairless, save for those long locks of yours.”

He ran a hand through them, ending just before the small of his back. It shimmered both red and black in the light, glistening as he snorted.

“That’s because I’m not like the old ones. THEY made me, after all.”

“Made... you?”

He let his hand fall, and glared at her. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“This school. The company that runs it; they’re into some seedy shit. Cloning, gene splicing, black market ‘himan’ trade; they are both promoting himan and human relations as well as seeding its dark underbelly.”

“And... where’s your proof in that?”

“Last year, three witches died... The same three witches that are now still teaching.”

“Then I guess they didn’t die, did they?”

“Ah, but they did. They gave us the bodies to clean up. How funny that the skull I scraped clean, the dark hair I peeled off for the crematorium, matched the chick who brought down the naga... and it wasn’t the first time I cleaned a similar head.”

“That’s... well, that’s all kinds of fucked up, for starters, so I’m just going to ignore that for now. The other is they didn’t allow you out of your rooms before? Lilith told me you weren’t allowed out save for class-”


“And I am to believe you... over the dean.”

He simply shrugged, and uncrossed his legs. He raised his middle a little, though it didn’t need much help. Samantha, also, noticed a certain... smell in the room, making her face warm, her head lull a little as she looked into his eyes.

“Fine. Don’t believe me. What do you want to talk about, then?” He said, growling gently. “After all, you brought up the interest in me being a minotaur. Is there a... specific part in mind?”

She stood, smirking... as she opened the door, readying to leave.

“No. Not really. Just piqued my interest is all... I do have one question, though: what is your hopes for the future?”

“Right now? Having you suck on my cock.”

“Well, it’s always good to have a dream. Until then, you’ll probably have to settle for Monica. Good. Day.”

She slammed the door, and groaned as she panted. Her heels and their clacks were racing with her up the hall, not pleased with how much her panties stuck to her, and almost stumbled up the stairs, thighs quivering, making them buckle. She sniffed her jacket, finding it reeked of both Monica and that... jerk’s room. She would need a shower before her last meeting of the day... Preferably a cold one. She even doubted the arctic would be cold enough to quell the fire that now burned below. It all started with Lilith, and it never seemed to have left since that first meeting. There seemed to be only one cure, and it was going to be difficult.

I need to get fucking laid, she thought, and plunged into the cold, her hand already cupped over her lower lips. Steaming.

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