The midafternoon golden sun spilled through the stained-glass windows of Cackle's Academy. It was Christmas Holiday and the chill wind crept through the stones of the ancient castle. Silence drifted through the long, empty hallways and alcoves as the distant wind whistled. Though, a clip clop could be heard approaching from the shadows. A long, cool woman in a black dress aggressively burst through the door into a vast classroom filled with vacant cauldrons and bare ingredient containers. Hecate Harbroom hated doors. She hated walking. But most of all, she hated being alive. The sight of the abandoned classroom was almost enough to make breathing tolerable. The students were obviously home for the season, and Hecate was taking advantage of the delicious silence. The staff was celebrating in the teachers' lounge and Hecate couldn't stand another round of giddy speechmaking and skaroke. Also, Rowan Webb constantly pawing at Mrs. Bat's old carcass put her off her hemlock juice. Unbeknownst to her, Tapioca had spiked the juice this year. Hecate glared at the empty chairs, imagining the faces of her stupid students. The unsavory company of the staff and students left Hecate with few friends. She downed the last of the hemlock juice and grunted, "yum yum" to herself. Hecate neared her cauldron and stared down into the already bubbling elixir. A feeling of alienation suddenly washed over the antisocial witch. Perhaps it was the juice, or perhaps Hecate was feeling the effects of the holiday. Her mind began to absently conjure a brew. Hecate tore the cupboard open, examining the ingredient assortment. Blind worm and lizard's leg - an absolute must for headaches. Reaching for the labeled glass bottles, a sudden wave of lightheadedness swept through her. Tripping over her heels, she stumbled forward into the cabinet and gripped onto the wooden structure for support. Potions and ingredients tumbled to the floor, shattering beneath her feet. She gasped and knelt on the floor, carefully scooping the broken glass into her palm. The vapor of a certain spilled concoction was wafting around the room, rapidly. Once it had reached her nostrils, she dropped the shards from her palms. Growing faint, she reached for the edge of the table right before falling out of consciousness.
What time is it? Why am I in the classroom? Her thoughts raced as she awoke and she peeled herself off of the floor. The school was silent without the obnoxious hum of the holiday music. Hours must have passed. Looking at all of the scattered ingredients and broken glass bottles, her first task had to be retrieving a broom, then off to bed, immediately. She smoothed her dress, composed her demeanor and left the classroom. Making her way to the supply closet, she stopped in her tracks once she saw Miss Mould stumble out of her classroom, holding her head as though she were in pain. Alarmed, Hecate apparated in front of Miss Mould to see what was the matter.
"Miss Mould, what seems to be the trouble?"
"I-I'm not sure..." Miss Mould touched her stomach and heaved her shoulders. "I feel sort of... funny... Do you feel it, too?"
"Feel what?" Miss Hardbroom raised a stiff brow.
"Sort of... some sort of, craving, a passion... an... an ecstasy!" Sweat began to bead on Mould's forehead and her breath hitched. Pupil's dilated, she began to clutch and caress her stomach and chest. Suddenly, her hand dived for Hecate's and gripped it, tight. Hecate froze at the spot.
"OooOOooh, Miss Hardbroom... is it hot in here? Do... do you feel... thirsty?"
"No. I feel perfectly-neutral." Miss Hardbroom attempted to tug her hand loose, but Miss Mould only hardened her grip. Hecate's gaunt wrist writhed beneath Miss Mould's death hold. She tugged and pulled away but no avail.
"Miss Mould unhand me this instant!"
Miss Mould stared intently into Miss Hardbroom's eyes. Her other hand slowly crept up from her abdomen to her chest. "I can scarce breathe." with that she tore at her clothing. Miss Hardbroom froze on the spot, mouth agape as Miss Moulds bare breast was exposed. "Oh that cool air," said she, "it sends a chill down my spine." Her free hand rubbed over the goose pimpled flesh of her exposed breast. Her nipples hardened.
"M-Miss... Miss..." Hecate stammered. She couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening right in front of her. Before she could speak, Miss Mould lifted her meaty tit and engulfed the large pepperoni nipple. Slurps and moans escaped her throat as she sucked, earnestly, trails of saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. Miss Hardbroom's legs went numb as she endured the gruesome sight. Miss Mould's eyes crossed as she let her tongue circle the nipple.
"Mmm...Oh -AAaaaAAH! Nipple wipple!" She bit down hard on the pebbly flesh and groaned a ghastly sound. "Join me! Join me, Hecate! Take out your hard, little, pointy batty watties! Taste them! It's so ... so... YUM YUUUUUUMMM!"
In a fit of pure emotion, Miss Mould because swinging her large, wet breast in a clockwise formation. Hecate's eyes rolled in tandem with the swinging boob. Miss Mould jumped into the air to meet Miss Hardbroom's height with her chest. With one swift movement her boob made contact with Miss Hardbroom's face. SLAP went the tit. Miss Mould moaned heavily. Hecate fell back in horror as Miss Mould finally released her grip as to free her other breast. She squeezed and tugged violently at her nipples, tugging the erotic flesh. Her hips bucking wildly beneath her skirt and her hands working her nipples, Miss Mould cried out in ecstasy as a warm, white liquid shot from her breasts. Hecate, still on the floor, was showered with milk.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Hecate crawled away in horror, her twisted face dripping with titty milk, and leaving a trail on the floor as she scooted like a cat being chased by a bloodhound.
"HECATE, NO! COME BACK! COME, AND LET ME LICK YOU CLEAN OOOOOOooooOOOOoooOOOH GOD!" Miss Mould stumbled back into her classroom, her hands hiking up her dress.
Hecate crawled and butt-scooted down the hall in a desperate attempt to escape whatever trauma she had just experienced. The smell of Miss Mould's breast milk, which much resembled the smell of potato salad, burned her nostrils. In utter distress, she glanced into every classroom she passed by, but there didn't seem to be another staff member insight. Finally, she heard the sound of other voices as she approached Mrs. Bat's classroom. Hecate struggled to her feet. 30 years confined to the castle, 30 years of young pupils and not once had she ever been exposed to such horror. To such unspeakable FILTH. Hecate straightened herself up before advancing anymore. She had scarcely begun to wipe the moisture from her face when she heard a cry from the next room. Miss Hardbroom burst through the door,
"You must come quickly; Miss Mould has had some sort of mental-" but she was cut off by the sight before her.
Miss Bat lay on her back across her desk. Her skirt lifted to her chin, glasses askew. Between her knees was the figure if Mr. Rowan Webb. His long frog tongue darting rapidly against Miss Bat's enflamed flesh. She wailed a high-pitched wail, her vibrato resonating around the room. Hecate was frozen in the doorway, still out of breath from the encounter moments before. Mr. Rowan Webb looked up from his position toward Miss Hardbroom,
"Don't be shy, Miss Hardbroom. This tongue ain't jusy for catching flies." He unzipped his trousers and pulled his half flaccid dick out.
Miss Hardbroom stumbled back into the door frame. She had never seen MALE anatomy before, and the sight repulsed her. Beneath the mound of grey and black hair was a short, stout cock. He wasted no time before plunging his member into Miss Bats sopping wet folds. She cried out in ecstasy and they were both lifted from the floor by her chant. Miss Hardbroom stuttered and stammered as she inched away her eyes unable to look away. Miss Bat's chant echoed all around the room,
"Fuck me, swiftly Make it nifty Bounce on my lily pad, don't cum quickly!
Mr. Rowan Webb let out a fierce and might, "RIBBET" as he pounded his wrinkly wife into oblivion.
"Oh... Oohh, mmmMMMMmm Gwendolyn, your pompous pussy is an amphibian's dream! I-I'm gonna.. I'm gonna c..."
"NOT YET! No, Algernon, before you spew your golden seed into my yearning yeast bucket, you know what you must do! You know what I WANT!"
Miss Hardbroom stared, growing nauseous, as Mr. Rowan Webb morphed into a tiny frog right at the base of Miss Bat's pinker stinker.
"YES! THAT'S IT, ALGERNON! OOoooOOH HUBBY, THAT DOES IT FOR ME! AAAaaaAah MAKE IT SLIMEY WIMEY!" Still thrusting with this lil' fog peen, tiny green Mr. Rowan Webb let out a large "CROAK" and Miss Bat was suddenly sent flying across the room by the force of a massive load of frog piss. Frog Mr. Rowan Webb was sent in the other direction, still spraying his foul-smelling release. Both collided into opposite walls, sliding down to the floor. Miss Bat shook like a shivering, shaky little shook bitch. Mr. Rowan Webb began hopping toward Miss Hardbroom, who, before she had a chance to bolt, was suddenly spattered with his peepee. Miss Hardbroom stumbled backward out of the doorway and slammed into the stone wall behind her. She shuffled to her feet and took off in a full sprint. The sound of her five-inch boots thundered through the empty corridors. She ran and ran with no destination in mind, throwing looks back in search of a small green sex fiend. The combination of fluids on Hecate mixed into a hideous, slime green goop. The smell was unbearable. As she tore down the stairs, Miss Hardbroom clambered into the kitchen and fell into the sink. She put every soiled part of herself under the water. But, as she reached for soap (or a blowtorch) her hand touched something...warm.
Hecate quickly opened her eyes and jumped away from the sink and the warmth. Standing before her, entirely nude, was Miss Tapioca, the academy cook.
"Oh yeh 'at's righ" Tapioca had one leg up on the counter, her womanhood spread wide. She was pumping a very large, lumpy squash in and out of her hairy twat. Something horrible was dripping from the squash. Hecate could tell from the lumps that it was the morning's porridge. Hecate pushed the wet hair from her face as she backed into a corner. This wasn't happening. She couldn't look away. Miss Tapioca refused to break her fierce gaze. Her large bosom swung in rhythm with her pumps.
"Porridge makes a migh' good lubrication, donnit ... mm... yea..." Miss Tapioca flicked her fingers, and a dollop of porridge was sent right underneath Hecate's left eye. Hecate hurled herself in front of an empty mop bucket and lost her dinner. "Got loads a squash left, don' be shy!"
Holding her stomach, Hecate quickly skedaddled out of the kitchen and down the hall, holding the wall for support. Growing dizzier and sicker by the minute, she began to silently weep and beg for release from this horrendous nightmare. Her tears dripped down her green, milky, pissy sad face. Why was this occurring and why was she the only one who wasn't unspeakably lascivious?!
"Miss Hardbroom!" Miss Hardbroom froze at the sound of Miss Drill's desperate call. She blinked and listened, intently. "Miss Hardbroom, is that you down the hall? In here! Please, help! I need help!"
Miss Hardbroom quickly hurried to the sound of Miss Drill's voice, as if it were a light at the end of this horny horror tunnel. Surely Miss Drill would be the only one of these insolent, offensive heathens she once called her staff that would still be of sound mind.
"Miss... Miss Drill! I hear you, Miss Drill, we must alert Miss Cackle at once, it's an apocalypse! Miss Dr-"
Once she reached the doorway of the next classroom, Miss Hardbroom almost collapsed. She was met with the large, bare ass of Miss Drill, who was bent over on a student's desk. The bristles of a broom were poking toward Miss Hardbroom as Miss Drill had one hand behind her, shoving the end of the broomstick up her throbbing butthole.
"Ooooooh, there you are, Hecate... please, I need your help. Make it go further, I'm so close!"
Hecate screamed as loudly and as long as she could. The windows rattled until they shattered. This startled Miss Drill gasped loudly and intern caused her muscles to seize up in her rectum. The broom shot out of her ass with an audible POP. Hecate slithered around the corner as Miss Drill moaned horribly. Hecate took off running again, tearing the entire side of her dress open. This freed her legs and gave way to Hecate's full formidable power. Her long, gazelle like legs reached unhuman lengths as the towering, black-clad witch ripped down the halls. Smoke billowed behind her as Hecate climbed straight to the top of the castle in search of Headmistress Cackle. Surely, SHE wouldn't be under this curse!
Hecate reached the door and stopped abruptly. She looked at the state of herself. Her hair has completely wiggled free from the tight braided bun. It cascaded down her pert bottom in chocolate waves. The five-inch black boots that she had worn wore down to nothing and left Miss Hardbroom's perfectly manicured feet bare on the floor. Her once long, tight modest dress was split up to her thigh. The black lace of her thong wound around her wide, sinewy hips. One sleeve had been torn away by Miss Mould's death hold. She quickly cast a cleaning spell of pure fire and scorched the stanky ass contents of the day away. Once she was presentable, though the trauma of the day had left her with a permanent grimace, she reached up and knocked on the door.
After a moment Miss Cackle said softly, "Enter... Hec... ate..."
Miss Hardbroom noticed the calm but low tone in her Headmistress's voice. She slowly turned the brass knob and pushed open the door that creaked, shrill and long. She stepped slowly into the office, eyes wide and tear filled. Miss Cackle's office was dim, only one green lamplight shining through the room. Processing the evening's events and gathering her thoughts, Hecate took a ragged breath.
"What is it, dear..."
"Miss Cackle. Please, forgive me for my weakened state, I must inform you that... something has taken over the castle. Something dark. Vile. And... it may even be my fault...I-"
"Your fault?" Miss Cackle's sweet voice echoed through the room.
Staring at the floor, Hecate nodded, "You see, I was mixing a potion for a headache, and I believe TAPIOCA intoxicated me with her holiday punch. So, I must have used the wrong ingredients and... caused...a plague in the castle!" She began to weep. The horrors she had endured. They were too much to bear.
Miss Cackle was silent for a moment. Then she began in a whisper, "Well... then. As Headmistress of this academy... I'm afraid, Hecate, you must be... punished." The strange tone of Miss Cackle's voice drew Hecate's attention. She finally looked at Miss Cackle fully through the darkness, only to see her buxom headmistress, thoroughly nude except for her spectacles, sitting atop her desk. Her legs crossed, and with a cigar in her hand, she eyed Hecate up and down. She licked her thin, dry, whiskery lips and puffed the cigar.
"Miss..." Miss Hardbroom wheezed.
"My, my Hecate... you have a faint aroma. Delicious, in fact. Is that...?" Miss Cackle sniffed her hairy nostrils, twice. "... Frog piss? Mmm. My favorite."
Miss Hardbroom stared, sorrowfully. The effect had even reached the last person she could ask for help, to confide in. Her maternal figurehead. She felt defeated. She watched as Miss Cackle spread her large, cellulite ridden legs to reveal her gray, furry, large snatch. A sour stench suddenly filled Miss Hardbroom's nose, and her face twisted and she wretched.
"Please, Hecate. Don't be shy. Take a seat."
Suddenly, Miss Cackle's closet door burst open, and silk scarves flew into the air like snakes. A wooden chair slid beneath Hardbroom, while the scarves strangled her wrists and waist, forcing her to sit and tying her in place. Miss Hardbroom gasped, tugging at the scarves in a panic.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
Cackle tapped the ash off the cigar on the desk top, and set it down. A long, silver pole suddenly descended from the ceiling, between the two women.
"... Let me sit this ass on ya, dear."
With the snap of Cackle's fingers, party lights and "I Want to Break Free" by Queen blaring, loudly, became the ambiance of the office. Miss Cackle, stood, completely exposed to Miss Hardbroom. It was now that Hecate realized just how much her boss resembled the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. Miss Cackle raised her arms and did a triple, front handspring flip off her desk and landed in the splits in front of the pole. Her dump truck ass and inflated tiddies wriggled around her like hula hoops. Miss Cackle peered over her spectacles and smirked as she grabbed the pole and began to swing around it. Her white bobbed hair flew in the wind as she twirled and swirled around the greased pole. Ada bent forward and twerked on the pole; the hard metal was enveloped by her rotund rump. Miss Hardbroom threw up in her mouth.
"P-please Ada..." she whispered against her restraints, "I can't take this anymore."
Miss Cackle did a bend and snap, her sagging tits swung like pendulums across her wide belly. "Oh...you don't like my dance, Hecate? Is it you are jealous of the pole?" With that she stepped forward and leaned down to meet Hardbroom's eyes. Before she could speak another word one of the enchanted scarves gagged Hecate to silence. Miss Cackle inhaled deeply.
"I say, you do smell divine. It's even better up close. Let's see here-frog piss, of course, breast milk how interesting, and what's this? She leaned forward and sniffed Hecate's face closely. Her whiskers were rough against Hecate's smooth, baby soft skin. "My, my... porridge? What a delectable combination." Miss Cackle brought her hips forward and straddled Miss Hardbroom's lap. Her weight was immense. Hecate struggled to breathe under the great weight and against her restraints. She began to weep.
Ada wiped the tears away, "Now, now none of that. Let Aunty Ada make it all better." She began to move her hips in a circular motion, rubbing her hands up and down Hecate's shoulders. The smell was too much for Hecate to take now. With the combination surrounding her face and the musty, sourness of Miss Cackle's abyss, Hecate hurled against her restraints. The small amount dribbled down her chin. Miss Cackle jumped up from Hecate's lap and got on all fours. She began to clap her cheeks, chanting,
"Clip clap ta tat, my ass is nice and fat."
Miss Hardbroom closed her eyes finally, too exhausted to look at the day any further. She thought out the events from the day. The sight of Miss Mould's lactate spewing forth from her tan breasts, of Miss Bat and Mr. Rowan Webb not only having human intercourse but bestiality! The rest ran across her mind like a horrible nightmare. Hecate prayed to the goddess above to give her strength and release her bonds! OH, SWEET OBLIVION! Open your arms!
A crash of lightning shown outside and shot through the window! The wave of heat grabbed onto the pole, which Miss Cackle was rubbing her crotch against, and shot her across the room with a sizzling crack. Her muff smoldered and sizzled. She coughed slightly, "I believe I came, dear. "
The heat made the scarves retreat back long enough for Hecate to apparate to the window. She looked back at Miss Cackle, sprawled across the floor, her legs wide open and her charred cunny. Hecate would never unsee the events from the day. the sexual deviance. The sin! She lifted the windowpane and without another thought, crawled through the hole and let herself fall from the highest tower. She fell and fell, the castle moved in slow motion around her. She felt joy for the first time in 30 years. Then darkness.
Fin