Disclaimer: All of the characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older; one of them at least much older. All of them, including the author, are entirely fictitious.





I woke up that morning with the biggest boner of my life. I sat up in bed and noted that I had to do something about it. My mind was fuzzy, but my cock was as hard as marble and my bladder was threatening to burst. Hastily, I got up and, throwing a robe over myself, slinked down to the bathroom at the end of the hall to relieve myself--one way or both ways. My cock was sticking straight out in front of my shorts and I hoped that neither Ma nor Tabitha as around to catch me like this.

Fortunately, neither of them was and I made it to the bath room okay. I pissed like a racehorse, but my pecker still wouldn't go down—you know how that is--so I had to take charge of it by hand. After a few strokes, I came into a wad of TP and flushed the evidence down the toilet. While I was jacking off, I tried to recall a dream I'd been having moments before waking up. There had been girls in it I remember, lots of them and they were all naked. But rather than enjoying it, I was scared of them and felt like I was in mortal danger. But anything more than that I couldn't recall; the details of the dream started melting away as I became more and more awake.

When I returned to my room, I glanced at the clock on my night stand.

Holy shit! I was going to be late for school. I quickly threw on some clothes and wondered where the hell Tabatha was. Usually, she'd be here by now, banging on my door and threatening me with bodily injury if I didn't get up pronto. I went out into the hallway and called her name.

"Tabitha! Hey, Tabitha, are your there?"

But there was no answer, and that was puzzling. She always comes over here in the morning to get me up (I mean, get me awake), so I wondered if anything had happened to her. Nothing bad I hoped. On the other hand, she's such a pain in the ass.

Tabitha is the girl next door. Although next door is a twenty-minute walk from her farm to ours, but she comes by every morning and we walk to school together. We've known each other all our lives and played together as kids. I'd always sort of thought of her as my sister until we got a little older. At eighteen, she still has quite a boyish figure and it suits her. But with that long raven hair and those hazel eyes, I no longer want to think of her as a sister and I've tried getting a little serious. But she won't have it due to an overwrought sense of morals, and doesn't plan on surrendering her virtue anytime soon. She also had a quick temper and a sharp tongue, which are maybe not her best features.

Maybe she still thinks of me as a brother, although here in rural New England that's not always an impediment to sex. I've tried casting my eyes elsewhere, but all the other girls around here consider me Tabitha's property and keep away, even though I've done everything but hang an Available sign around my neck.

Well, whatever...I had to scoot if I was going to get to school on time. Even though my stomach was grumbling, I didn't have time for breakfast. But I headed down to the kitchen, anyway, planning to grab a piece of toast or something on my way out. I saw Ma there, sitting at the kitchen table and studying her face in that compact mirror she always keeps with her. She'd already laid out the usual breakfast for both of us: bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, biscuits and gravy, and a fresh pot of coffee--it's a farmer's breakfast. Hers was partially eaten already, but mine was untouched and steaming away invitingly. It was so tempting, but I just stuck a rasher of bacon in my mouth and headed for the back door.

"Bye, Ma," I mumbled through the bacon.

"Goodman?" she replied. "Where do you think you're going?"

I took the bacon out of my mouth and said, "To school...I'm gonna be late."

"Uh uh, Kiddo." She smiled and shook her head. "There's no school for you today. Remember...the YLF?"

That stopped me in my tracks.

Right... the YLF. I'd totally forgotten that dopy Young Ladies Fair was today. The small local college I attended, Cotton Mather, held one every year around this time, and, as the name implies, it's for female students-only--no men allowed. So we guys have the day off from school when the Fair is going on. I'd totally forgotten. Was I getting forgetful in my old age, even though I'm only twenty?

"Sit down and have your breakfast," Ma said, so I pulled up a chair and fell upon the food in front of me with gusto. No one can cook like my Ma. It's supernatural.

"I guess that's why Tabitha never showed up," I said, pouring myself a cup of Ma's magical brew.

She nodded. "She's on the Committee this year, so she had to be at school early to help set things up. "Goodman, how's my face look to you? Any new wrinkles?"

Ha! As if. Ma, whose name is Rebecca, is an absolutely bewitching woman. She's five-seven, has short, straight blond hair in a page boy cut and sparkling blue eyes. She has a pretty-good figure too, but she always dresses conservatively, usually in loose sweat shirts and Carhartts. She's not fussy about her clothes, but pretty vain about her face. And why shouldn't she be? She has an absolutely beautiful face.

Any new wrinkles? She's never had any old ones.

"Looks fine, Ma," I said with my mouth full.

I'm not one of those oedipal sons you read about, but I really feel proud to have a beautiful mother like her. Still, it puzzles me. Sometimes I think she looks too young. And she never seems to age...hasn't in years. I mean, she looks like she's in her early thirties, but she has to be older than that. If she really was as young as she looks, she'd had to've been a child bride, and while that's not exactly unheard of around here, I don't think that was the case with Ma. But, y'know, just like a woman, she won't admit to her true age, and whenever I ask her how she manages to stay so young-looking, she just smiles at me coyly and says it's magic. Maybe it has something to do with those herbal medicines she cooks up in the barn and sells to the neighbors. (Keep that to yourself, okay?) We don't make much money from this old farm and Ma's potions are about the only thing that keeps the wolf away from our door. Of course, you can bet that plenty of the local wolves have come sniffing around the door of a pretty young widow, but Ma always turns them away. She doesn't seem to be interested in seeing anyone at all, and that suits me just fine.

I don't remember much about my father, Zach. He died not long after I was born. I just have this vague remembrance of a tall, dark man, who looked very tired all the time. I don't even know what he died of. When I asked Ma, she simply said that his body had failed him. "Failed us," she added, which seemed a strange way to put it.

When I finished breakfast, I pushed myself away from the table, got up and said, "Well, I'm off."

Ma had already gathered up her dishes and was washing them in the sink. She came over and took my plate. "Oh? Where to, Goodman?" she asked.

"As long as I have the day off, I thought I'd go into the Village," I replied.

"Well, don't be all day about it," Ma replied. "I wrote up a list of chores I want you to do. It's over there on the fridge," she said, pointing to a scrap of paper on the refrigerator door that was held up by a magnet shaped like a black cat."

Well, that was sort of a bummer.

"...And take your key with you. After I'm done here, I'm locking up the house and going over to Cotton Mather."

"You're going to the Fair?" I asked.

Her response was an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, Morgan wants me to help out."

Morgan was Miz Morgan, the stern old witch who was the Dean of Cotton Mather, a wizened old hag bearing the same stern and rockbound countenance our Pilgrim Fathers (and Mothers) must have had. We call her the Last Puritan, in fact, because of the way she dresses: long skirts that go down to her ankles and collars buttoned up to her chin. Her white hair was usually forced into a tight bun on the top of her head and she wore these square, wire-frame granny glasses. She was a strict disciplinarian; all the male students loathed her and she loathed us back. Oddly enough, though, the girls all liked her. And I think that had to do with the fact that there was something going on with them--some secret we men weren't in on.

Strange, but I'd always thought Morgan and Ma were enemies. Ma had a teaching certificate, and taught at Cotton Mather for awhile, and was even up for the job of Dean, but Morgan waltzed in out of nowhere and took it away from her. After that, Ma quit teaching and concentrated on the farm and her potions. So I was surprised to hear that Ma'd do anything to help old Morgan out; but that woman had a way of bending people to her will. Besides, I guess the YLF, which was a big deal, was more important than what was between Morgan and Ma.

"I won't be back until tomorrow morning," Ma said as she stood by the sink, washing our plates. The YLF goes on all-night, you see. Rumor has it that there's some kind of ceremony that takes place in the woods behind the school at midnight, but the girls are always so tight-lipped about it, so who knows? "Be a good boy and try not to burn the house down," Ma said.

"Ma!" I protested. "What do you think I am? A little kid?"

"Just the opposite, Goodman. I'm worried you might bring a bunch of your hooligan friends over and wreck the place."

"Ma! What are we going to do with all the girls locked-up at school?" I replied. "We're not that gay."

That caused her to laugh out loud and splash dishwater onto the kitchen floor. "Good point," she replied. "I'm sure you're not."

........

There's this joke about the village of Ayer. It goes like this:

A: Say, did you hear about the guy who suffocated in a phone booth last night?"

B: No, what happened?

A: He couldn't get Ayer.

Pretty dumb, huh?

It's a gag about the historically poor phone service out here in Nowhere, Mass. The business about the phone booth dates it obviously, but even cell phone service hereabouts is sketchy at best.

The subtext of the joke is that Ayer, and its environs, is so far off the beaten path (any beaten path you care to name) that there's absolutely nothing to do here, and I mean nothing. Which is why we all try to run off to Salem, Arkham or any other place that's even a little bit livelier than Ayer every time we get a chance to get away. Like now, with the Festival going on and all.

I didn't really expect that many of the guys would still be hanging around town, but as luck would have it, I did run into three of them: Gershom, Abel and Enoch, in the Rexall. I spotted them in a booth at the back, and they were talking about the Fair.

"What's with that, anyway?" Gershom was asking. "I mean, why is it women-only? Why isn't there a Young Men's Fair, too?"

"A school-sponsored festival for just the male students?" I asked as I made them make room for me in the booth. "So... if there was one, you'd go to it? If it was men only?"

"Hell, no!" he replied. "I ain't that gay. But what's the deal? I've tried to get Abigail to tell me about it, but all she did was put her finger to her lips saying: 'Mum's the word,' and giggle."

Abigail was Gershom's bomb girlfriend. She was a striking beauty, with long blond hair, pouty lips, long—long-- legs and quite an impressive rack. Gershom was a lucky son-of-a-bitch and knew it. She was the captain of the cheerleading squad and president of the 4-H club, which is a really important position in an AG college. And since Gershom was the quarterback of the school's football team, their hooking up was just to be expected.

"What about you, Goodman?" Abel then asked me. "Doesn't your wife ever tell you anything?" They all burst out in merriment.

"Get off it, guys. Tabitha's not my wife," I replied. I have to deal with this all the time. "I wish you'd stop saying things like that. You know we haven't done anything."

"Well...whose fault is that?" Abel replied.

"Goodman's tiny pecker," Gershom said.

"Fuck you guys." I jumped up, pulled down my zipper and started to unroll my cock. "I'll show you who's top log around here!"

"Shit! Cool it, Goodman," Abel said, panicking. "You'll get us thrown out. Who cares what they do. It's just girlie stuff anyway, you know. More power to 'em I say. We get a day off out of it. So since we're footloose and fancy free young studs today, let's decide where we want to go. Who's for Arkham? We could hang around the Miskatonic and pick up some chicks."

"Nah," I said, zipping up and sitting back down. "You don't want to do that. Those Arkham girls are real uggoes. They all have claws and tentacles and stuff."

They laughed, but the Arkham girls do have that reputation.

"How would you know, anyway?" Gershom said. "You seem to live like a monk. And, you know, I've always wondered. You and that stone fox of a mother of yours, all alone in that farmhouse? What do the two of you get up to at night, anyway?"

"I don't like what you're implying." I said that menacingly, although if we were to come to blows, Gershom would pulverize me in a minute. But a man has to stand up for himself and against those who would slander his Ma.

"Hey, relax," the still panicky Abel said, trying to intercede.

"Besides," I countered. "How do you know I'm a monk? I go out of town a lot to get supplies for the farm you know, and there are girls everywhere."

"Where do you go?" Gershom asked.

"Oh...everywhere," I replied nonchalantly. "Sometime as far as Bay Colony."

"Bay Colony?" Gershom said. "You mean Hester Prynne? You've got a girl at Scarlet A? Bullshit!"

Hester Prynne was a big women's finishing school in Bay Colony, and the girls there were renowned.

"Everybody's got a girl at Scarlet A," I replied.

"Is that where you're going?" Abel asked.

"Naw," I replied. "I've got things to do around the farm--fuck it all!"

Abel looked disappointed. I think he was hoping to hitch a ride and get introduced to a Hester Prynne girl, and Gershom shot me a look that said he clearly thought my story about Bay Colony was bullshit.

Just then, Enoch, who'd been pretty quiet until now, said something stupid.

"Hey...what about those stories that the YLF Festival is one big lesbian orgy? What about that secret ceremony they hold in the woods behind the school at midnight?

"Where'd you get that shit?" Gershom asked.

"I heard it from a friend of a friend," Enoch replied.

"In other words...bullshit," Gershom said. "What would make perfectly normal women become lesbos one night out of the year?"

"Well, statistically speaking..." I offered. "Some of them probably already are." I was thinking about those bruisers on Mrs. Hawke's female wrestling team.

"Well, Abigail's no dyke!" Gershom replied angrily. "She'd never get up to something like that!" His face turned red. He's got too much testosterone than is good for a man and a quick temper to boot, so I tried to defuse the situation.

"Whoa...whoa," I said. "Nobody's saying anything like that. Anyway, you're right, Gershom. Those stories are all just bullshit."

"Damn straight!"

"There's one way to find out, you know," Enoch said. "Someone should go up there and check it out."

Well, that was stupid too.

"What? Spy on the Fair?" I said. "That's crazy! What if old Morgan caught you? She's tortured students for less."

"I wasn't saying I should go." Enoch replied. "I was thinking about you."

"Holy Toledo! Why me?" I asked.

"Well, you're the only one of us who's not going out of town..."

"And you're expendable," Gershom added. "Nobody likes you anyway, haw haw!"

"Well then, the feeling's mutual," I said, standing up and washing my hands of these clowns. "Enjoy Arkham, boys. I got stuff to do—farmer stuff. You should try a little of it."

And walked out.

........

Those guys are assholes—especially Gershom.

I was standing at the crossroads where the path split up. To the right, the road leads to home; to the left, Cotton Mather. Unfortunately, those guys had planted a bug in my ear. I couldn't stop thinking about the Fair now and dangerous thoughts were coming to me. Maybe if took just a quick peek to satisfy my curiosity, you know, it would be okay. And maybe I'd learn something I could hold over those guys too.

So I turned left and headed in the direction of school.

A little historical background:

Around these parts, Salem town is most famous for its witch trials, but we've had 'em here in Ayer too. And they were presided over by none other than that famous witch finder, Cotton Mather himself; still known around here as the Man on Horseback Who Burned the Witches, because...well... he rode into town on a horse, burned a bunch of witches and left—sort of like a Puritan Lone Ranger. There's a statue of him in the town square, erected in sixteen whatever by the grateful town fathers for ridding the town of its witches. It depicts him on that selfsame horse, wearing one of those Pilgrim hats and brandishing a bible in one hand. It's been there forever and generations of pigeons have shit on it.

Nowadays, of course, we don't think of him as such a hero. All that witch burning and stuff was pretty shameful according to modern opinion, and we now figure that the Witch Trials were brought about by either mass hysteria or moldy bread. The most shameful incident in this whole shameful story has got to be how he burnt an obviously innocent woman right here in Ayer. Her name was Goody Close, and, in those days, the litmus test for witches was to make them recite the Lord's Prayer. It was considered a proof of witchcraft if the accused stumbled over the words or forgot some of them (but, heck, I can't even remember them). Goody recited the words flawlessly and they thought they were going to have to let her go, but Mather burned her anyway, citing something he called 'spectral evidence.' He found a man who testified that she had appeared to him in a dream one night and caused his manhood to shrivel up. That kind of spooky testimony was considered good enough to hang a person in those days--or in Goody's case, to light a torch under her.

Goody had been quite rich, and the man who accused her was a relative who inherited all of her property. Out of gratitude, he tore down Goody's house, built a school on top of it and named it after Mather. It's quite an old school, and over the centuries it's been repurposed many times; torn down and rebuilt. Currently it's an agricultural college where we're taught how to lose money by farming.

It's located on a slight rise where four roads used to come together. Traffic patterns have changed over the centuries and the original cross-roads no longer exists, except as three paths that lead to the school and one that leads from the school into the woods in back. The whole area is surrounded by a wire fence on three sides and the aforementioned forest on the fourth. The front gate was locked today, of course, but I knew of a secret hole in the fence behind a bush, which I used every now and then to sneak out of school, but this was the first time I'd ever used it to sneak back in.

Once through the hole, I had to scuttle across the clearing and hide in the landscaping next to the building, hoping that no one inside the building was looking out a window who might spot me. The front entrance was probably locked and maybe even guarded, so I searched around until I found an open window on the east side of the building, that fortunately was the window of a men's bathroom and scrambled through it.
Once in the school, my next step was to find out where they were holding the Festival without being caught. I gingerly opened the bath room door and peered out in both directions. It was empty...good thing. I snuck cautiously through the school. All the class rooms were all empty and no one seemed to be roaming the corridors. The whole place was as quiet as the grave, and it gave me the willies. I started thinking about all those ghost stories you hear in school: about the homicidal custodian with the scythe or the ghost in the lady's room--just silly stories to scare kids with, but thinking about them was sort of scaring me now. But when I got near the end of the west wing, where the gym was located, I started to hear muffled voices--soprano voices.

Of course! They were all in the gym, which was the only place in the school big enough to contain a large group of people; it was often used as an auditorium. The gym was situated on ground that was at a lower level than the rest of the school, so at the end of the west wing there's a short flight of stairs that leads down to the door. There's another door at opposite side of the gym that goes outside to the woods behind the school. There are windows all along the wall at the end of the west wing that allow you to see down into the gym, and we guys often spent our lunch hours there, watching the girls playing volleyball, or doing gymnastics or something until Mrs. Hawke would come along and chase us away.

Usually, we didn't care if the girls down there saw us gawking at them, and they didn't seem to care either. But today I didn't want to get noticed, so I sort of crouched down and duck walked over to a window, got on my knees and cautiously peered over the bottom edge. It was an uncomfortable position, but from my vantage point I could see everything that was going on down below.

The gym was filled with women, twenty or so, I guessed, and they were all dressed in the same peculiar outfits: a full-length, black robes and wide-brimmed, pointy hats...you know...kind of like...witches.

Witches? Come on. But there they were.

All along the walls, tables had been set up that were covered with all sorts of junk that the girls seemed to be greatly interested in: bells, books, candles, crystal balls and pickling jars full of smoky liquid that held...well...things. I don't know what they held. At one table, there was a girl making a horoscope for another girl, and, next to her, a girl was reading those fortune-telling cards. You know what I mean; the ones with the funny, old-fashioned pictures on them. There seemed to be a lot of fortune-telling going on: palm-reading, tea leaves, crystal balls; all that stuff.

So this was it? The YLF was just some dumb fortune-telling party where they cosplayed witches? And all this in a building named after a famous witch-killer? Ironic, huh? No wonder they wanted to keep it a secret. How would they explain it if this ever got out? (And don't think I wasn't pondering the potential leverage I would have if I chose to use it.)

A platform had been set up at one end of the gym and two girls were moving around on it. One of them was positioning a stepladder against the wall and the other was carrying something that looked like a rolled-up tapestry. It was big and hefty and nearly too much for her to carry. She handed it over to the other girl, who held it much more easily, and scurried up the ladder with it. She attached it to a hook on the wall and unrolled it down to the stage.

Suddenly, all the girls' eyes were on the tapestry as it unfurled and a hush came over the gym. On it was a picture of a tall woman in a sort of Greek-style dress. She had three heads. No—the head had three faces: one in the middle that was the face was that of a handsome mature woman with a benevolent smile; one on the right, in profile, was the face of a sexy young girl; and the one on the left was an angry old woman. The top of her head was adorned with a sort of spiky crown, like the one on the Statue of Liberty, and she carried a torch like Liberty's, only the handle was longer. In her other hand she carried a long knife, or maybe a short sword, and a snake wound around her arm up to the elbow, and at her feet were two large dogs—hounds.

It was the damndest this I'd ever seen. I felt a chill run down my spine but didn't know why. I felt like I was in the presence of something profoundly mysterious, which made me feel silly, because I'm not the kind of guy who has much to do with deep things. Still, I had this weird feeling of déjà vu; like I'd this thing before—like in a book somewhere, or maybe an old, old memory.

The girls in the gym cheered when the picture was fully unfurled. The two on the stage took the ladder away and returned moments later with three three-legged stools which they placed in front of the picture. Then three other figures in hooded robes that hid their faces walked onto the stage and sat down on the stools. The two girls bowed to them respectfully and left.

An aura of expectation settled down over the gym when the person on the middle stool rose up, walked forward and threw back her hood. It was Miz Morgan! But her white hair was loose, freed from that ever-present tight bun, and it sort of stuck out all over the place like wires and made her look more like a wicked old witch than ever.

She smiled and looked out over the crowd of girls below her.

"Daughters of Hecate. Daughters of Hecate. Welcome." she shouted with her arms above her head. All the girls cheered.

Her voice was a little muffled by the window glass and all, but the gym has a high ceiling and pretty good acoustics, so I was able to make out her words when I listened very carefully enough.

"This..." she said, "...is always a special day—this so called Young Ladies Fair." The crowd of girls below laughed in unison. "We gather here on this day—this sacred day--in the house of our great enemy, Cotton Mather, to honor Mother Hecate, the Great Goddess of the Night and Patroness of witches!" Ecstatic cheering broke out among the crowd.

Morgan paused, and turning around, bowed to the picture behind her, and the girls all followed her example. The atmosphere in the gym suddenly seemed to change from light-hearted and festive to all serious and religiousy.

Morgan turned around and addressed the crowd below once more. "As I look out upon your young and eager faces," she said, "I am filled with great pride and confidence in the future of our Craft. May this day provide us all with great and wonderful opportunities to learn new spells and make new friends. Enjoy yourselves to the utmost. However, I solemnly abjure and bind you with words and dire spells never to speak of this to outsiders. There have already been enough rumors in the past, but let's have no more of them. Let what goes on here, stay here!"

Some of the women in the audience laughed nervously, but Morgan frowned, and continued. "Seriously... our Craft has had so many troubles over the long centuries. The Witch Trials may be over for now, but you never know when another Cotton Mather may arise to bedevil us again. So we must never let out guard down. Mum's the word. Say it. Mum's the word!"

"Mum's the word!" they shouted as one.

"Good," Morgan said, pleased. She raised her arms again and shouted. "Praise be the Goddess! Blessed be this day."

The girls went wild, repeating her exhortation.

This was retarded. I couldn't wait to tell the guys.

Morgan put her arms down at her sides with an air of finality and said, "Now let's hear from this year's Queen of Darkness, Tabitha Wycliffe."

Tabitha?

She gestured to the person sitting on the right-hand stool, who came forward, pulling back her hood. It was Tabitha, alright, and she was greeted by polite applause. (Boy, was I ever going to blackmail her over this!)

Miz Morgan went back to her seat as Tabitha came forward, leaned over and whispered something to the person on the left, who was still hooded.

"Greetings, Sisters," Tabitha said when she'd reached the front of the stage. "I know you don't want to hear any long, boring speeches from me..." Someone in the crowd shouted, "You got that right," and was followed by a wave of giggles. Tabitha nodded and went on, "So I will just say in passing that our coven has had a really good year, with lots of mischief-making and malice-spreading. The number of cursings and sickenings performed this year by all of you has been truly outstanding. Thank you for all your hard work. In addition, I would like to offer a special commendation to the 4-H coven, which has been particularly active this year: drying up cows, setting fire to fields and poisoning wells. We love you, 4-H coven! Abigail, come on up here."

There was a bustling in the crowd and Abigail, Gershom's girlfriend, mounted the stage. Her great figure was hidden under her robe, but her glorious blond hair spread out under her witch's hat like a little cape across her shoulders.

"Thank you. Thank you all," she said, smiling and bowed to the crowd. "This is so unexpected. I really don't have anything to say, except that all of us in the 4-H coven...raise your hands, girls...," and about a dozen hands in the crowd shot up, "...will continue to do our best in the coming year to stifle agricultural activity in Ayer County."

Tabitha hugged Abigail and kissed her on the mouth. Abigail kissed Tabitha back, and their lips lingered on each other's for what seemed to me an inordinate amount of time. I didn't realize they were such good friends. When they broke apart, Tabitha said, "In light of your club's many achievements, we're awarding the 4-H coven with the custody of the Black Man this year." And with that, she pulled a huge black rubber dildo from under her robe and handed it to Abigail, who kissed it and rubbed it against her cheek.

I think my eyes bugged out. This was so weird.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," Abigail said, waving the dildo over her head as she left the stage. Tabitha smiled as she watched her go, and I wondered what the hell Abigail was going to do with that thing.

"Now back to other business," Tabitha said with a chuckle. "By now, you should all have received your detailed program books. So...instead of telling you, point by point, about the exciting day we have ahead of us, I'll just hit the highlights: This morning is free time. Mingle. Get to know one another better, and be sure to patronize our dealers, who have many wonderful things on offer for all your bewitching needs. Also, coffee and donuts—or juice, if you prefer, will be arriving soon. Around noon, we'll break for lunch, and in the afternoon be sure to attend one or several of the many fine presentations and workshops listed in the program book. I highly recommend the one on love curses at 1:30 and the presentation on removal spells at 3:00. If you attend that one, be sure to bring a list of unpleasant teachers or love rivals you want to get rid of with you. In the evening, we'll be dining with the girls from Hester Prynne Academy..."

"Yea! Scarlet A!" someone in the crowd shouted, and I saw a pointed hat bouncing up and down in the middle of the crowd.

"Yea! Scarlet A!" Tabitha repeated. "There's one now, ha ha...What?" she said, responding to a question from someone in the crowd I couldn't hear. "No, we won't be having unbaptized baby this year. I mean...honestly...you can have that any time you want nowadays. But Mrs. Lector, our fine cook, has promised us something really special for dinner."

I couldn't believe my ears. Mrs. Lector was the head of the cafeteria. Was she involved in this funny business too? It made me wonder what kind of mystery meat I'd been having for lunch all these years.

"But the real fun," Tabitha continued, "begins in the woods at midnight, so be sure to save a little energy for that. No, save a lot of energy for it!" She winked and a really tremendous cheer arose from the crowd this time.

While Tabitha was speaking, someone walked onto the stage and whispered something into Miz Morgan's ear. She nodded and said something in reply. Then the newcomer bowed and walked off the stage.

By this point, I figured I'd seen enough and didn't want to push my luck and further. I'd be in really deep cow flop if they caught me now; especially since I finally knew the great secret of the YLF.

I left and started making my way back to the men's bathroom, but when I turned a corner, I ran smack dab into Mrs. Hawke, the gym teacher. I mean I literally smacked into her, and the impact knocked me to the floor. She's a hard woman, and there I was, lying on my back, staring up at her. She was accompanied by one of her husky girl wrestlers. They grabbed me by my arms and roughly pulled me to my feet.

"Ow, ow! That hurts." I said.

"What are you doing here, boy?" Mrs. Hawke said fiercely. "You know you're not supposed to be here today, don't you?"

She shook me hard--and I sort of flapped my lips, trying to think up some bullshit excuse to give to her.

"Answer me, you worm!"

"It's a mistake," I finally managed. "I...I forgot what day it was."

"You forgot what day it was. Liar! You thought you'd to spy on us, isn't that right?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean any harm. Let me go?"

"You're not going anywhere, worm. Except with us," she replied. They dragged me down the hall to Miz Morgan's office and shoved me inside.

"Stay here," Mrs. Hawke said. "Someone will attend to you shortly. Charity, you stay here and make sure he doesn't get away."

"Donuts?" her burly assistant bleated.

"Oh, don't worry, Sweetie," Mrs. Hawke said, smiling and patting the young bruiser on the head. "I'll make sure they save you some. You like the ones with the crème filling, don't you?" Then she aimed a malicious glance my way and left the office, leaving me alone with the unhappy Charity, who glared at me sullenly and cracked her knuckles repeatedly. I felt there was no point in trying to engage her in conversation, but I could sympathize with her in a way. My blood sugar was dropping, and I wouldn't have minded a donut myself.

I'd never been inside Miz Morgan's office before. It was a kind of a sancta sanctorum where students were seldom allowed, but it was pretty much what you'd expect a school administrator's office to look like: a desk, some chairs, filing cabinets, etc--and a bookshelf along the back wall. But in one corner of the room there was a large iron pot with a propane heater underneath it. I couldn't for the hell of me figure out that was for, unless Miz Morgan liked to cook lobsters in her office. Next to it, there was a grey, metal shelving unit containing a lot of different things; a rag doll being used as a pin cushion, a statue of the lady on the tapestry, a bunch of red and black candles and a neat row of ceramic pots. Most of them were unmarked, but some were labeled eye of newt, graveyard dirt, tanna leaves, and hanged man's ashes. Hanged man's ashes? Where would you find something like that in this day and age? Were these more props for this witchcraft business?

When I was done looking around, I tried to find a place to sit and make up some bullshit excuse for snooping around and practicing looking contrite at the same time. But the chairs, as well as the desk, were piled high with stuff: old books, folders, ring binders and things that looked like parchment scrolls. All in all, Miz Morgan's kept a pretty a messy office.

I drifted over to the bookshelf to find something to read while I was waiting and to distance myself from the resentful Charity. Most of the books there were the dry, how to-run-a-school type stuff I guess you'd expect to see in any school administrator's collection, but there were also a whole mess of books on witchcraft as well. They must be how Miz Morgan got hooked on this witchcraft business in the first place and dragged all the female students along into her obsession.

I heard the door behind me open with a loud slam. I jumped and turned nervously to see Miz Morgan striding into the room accompanied by another girl student. Charity made to leave, but Morgan said: "Stay here! I'll need you later."

Charity stared daggers at me.

Then Morgan put her hands on her hips and addressed me.

"Goodman Brown...you... of all people. What are you doing here, when you know it is forbidden?"

"It's a mistake," I replied and ratted on the guys at the Rexall. "They put me up to it."

"Hmmm," she replied, stroking her pointed chin. "Well...something will have to be done about that, I suppose."

She walked over to her desk and sat down. On the way, her robe parted briefly, offering me an unsavory glimpse of her boney and pock-marked legs.

"Sit down!" she commanded.

I looked around helplessly and shrugged. All the chairs were piled up with stuff.

"Just pick one and clear everything off it," she said impatiently.

I found a chair near the desk, put the stuff piled on top of the seat on the floor and sat down.

"Again...why are you here, young man? She asked. "You knew it was forbidden...and don't try to blame your friends again. Do you have any idea of what happens to young men who try to penetrate Women's Mysteries?"

No...I didn't have the slightest idea. I didn't even know what Women's Mysteries were; was it a course?

"Uh...detention?" I replied.

"Ha!" she cackled. She seemed to find that genuinely amusing. She stood up, placed her hands flat on the desktop and fixed me with an evil eye. "Let me tell you a story...and a rather amusing one at that. Once upon a time there was a young man who, not unlike you, was too nosy for his own good. He was a hunter, and one day when he was out in the woods with his dogs, he came across a Goddess at her toilette. He should have fled, but he was so entranced by her beauty that he just stood and stared. When the Goddess discovered she was being spied on, she became so wroth that she turned this young man into a stag, right on that spot, and he was chased and ripped to pieces by his own dogs."

She leaned over and, taking my chin in one of her claw-like hands, turned my head up, so that I had to look directly into her yellow, snake-like eyes. "A sad, but appropriate, fate, no? Now, young man, tell me everything that you saw and overheard," she said.

"You mean all that witchcraft stuff?" I said.

"Hmmm...and what do you know about witchcraft, Goodman?" she replied.

"Uh...witches fly on broomsticks and worship the Devil?" I said.

Wrong!" she shouted. "Wrong, wrong, wrong! Your mother should have taught you better. That's a vile lie perpetrated by men. Men like that vile fiend, Cotton Mather." The virulence in her voice made me wonder if she'd known him personally. She was probably old enough. "Witches have never worshipped any male figure," she said. "That business about worshipping the Devil was created by men--Church men in particular--who could not conceive of any group of women could not rule themselves. There always had to be a man at the bottom of it...even if a devil. But, no, we never worshipped their Devil or their God or any other male deity...only the ancient Goddess. Known by many names, but sometimes as Hecate, the Queen of Darkness. She is quite devilish enough for us, heh heh."

"But aren't there male witches, too? Warlocks...or whatever?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Another lie...a most irksome one, promoted by those annoying wannabes who call themselves Wiccans. They're not true witches, just clueless hippies. Ever since prehistory, women, and women only, have been the true practitioners of magic. Men have no magic in them at all, no matter if they put on robes, wave their wands around and call themselves wizards. True magic comes from women and women only. Men sometimes have their uses in a coven, but they're not magical beings
"All women have the potential to become witches, of course. Most aren't aware of it, because it's been drilled out of them by the Men in Charge, but all know it intuitively. Every time a woman reads a horoscope or puts a lucky charm around her neck, she's practicing witchcraft. Many women know certain spells or magical practices handed down to them by their mothers or grandmothers. That's witchcraft too, although they may not think of it that way. Here at this school--this coven—we're more self-aware and organized and I've done my best to teach young witches how best to learn their Craft."

I guess she really liked to talk about this subject given the chance, but clearly, this woman was insane.

"I can see you don't believe me," she said.

"Well, no," I replied. "How could I? If you're really a witch, then prove it. Pull a rabbit out of a hat or something."

I guess I was getting a bit uppity with her, but she was demented anyway, and I couldn't get into any worse trouble with her than I already was, could I?

She shook her head and cackled evilly.

"It doesn't work that way, my boy...no, not at all. But I could make you break out in hives if I wanted to. Would you like that? ...Or I could make you fall in love with me."

I looked at her ugly old face and thought to myself that that would be magic.

She brought her face close to mine and stared into my eyes. I tried to avoid her gaze by turning my head, but I couldn't. I was like a bird hypnotized by a snake. She held her eyes on mine and I felt like there was something creeping out of them and into my head, and I suddenly realized that I'd been wrong about her all this time. She really wasn't such an ugly old bitch after all. What had I been thinking? She was a mature woman and had seen a few years true enough. But now I realized she wasn't really ugly at all. No...her's was a face full of character and promise. Miz Morgan was a woman who'd lived a full life; a well-rounded, experienced woman, wise in the ways of the world, who could teach a young man like me much. I got a boner and impulsively leaped out of the chair and embraced her...

"What the hell is going on here?"

That broke the spell or whatever, and I realized I was holding Miz Morgan's scrawny, unsavory body, and that her face was just as ugly as always. I turned red with embarrassment and deflated fast.

"Just a little love spell," Morgan said to a cloaked figure who'd just entered the room. It was the third person I'd seen on the stage with Morgan and Tabitha...and I knew that voice.

"Not with my son, you're not!" she said, pulling back her hood.

"Ma?"

She strode across the room, and pulling Morgan and I apart, slapped me hard on the face.

"You fool!" she said.

Ma's a farmer, so she knows how to hit and it stung pretty bad, but I was more shocked than hurt. There have been numerous occasions in the past when I've made her angry, but she'd never struck me before in my life.

"I'd heard a man had been caught in the school," she said. "But why you? What are you doing here after I told you not to come to school today. You should be back at the farm, doing your chores."

"Some of his friends were gossiping about the Fair and he got over-curious," Morgan said. She seemed pretty amused.

"What? Who are they, Goodman?" Ma said, shaking my shoulders. "Tell me! I'll kill them."

"Well...that's up to you," Morgan said. "But right now, you should be more concerned about you son, shouldn't you?"

"What? No!" Ma stared at Morgan and turned a little fearful. "I'll just take him home and we'll just forget all about this. No one ever need know it happened."

"It's too late for that, Rebecca," Morgan replied, cackling. "Everyone already knows. I made sure of that, and they're all very excited. None of our girls have ever been on a Stag Hunt before. It will be a good learning experience for them."

"Witch!" Ma said angrily. "You can't mean it. Please! He's my only child."

"The only child of Zach," Morgan replied. "And yet...he's only a son. You should have had a daughter instead. I'm sorry, but you know the rules as well as I do," she said, placing a boney hand on Ma's shoulder, "Rules handed down from ancient times. Rules that protect us. Unbreakable rules. I understand how you must feel, Becky, believe me. But any man who dares to penetrate the Female Mysteries must face the consequences. How else could we defend ourselves?"

I didn't like the sound of that...or the expression of anguish on Ma's face. She brushed Morgan's hand away and, turning to face her, pointed two fingers at her and started mumbling something I couldn't make out—like a foreign language.

Morgan threw back her head and laughed. "Your weak spells won't work on me. You should know that by now."

Ma dropped her hand and bowed her head. She wiped a tear away from her cheek with the sleeve of her robe and I could see that she was struggling with some internal turmoil.

"Hey! What's going on around here?" I said. "I'm tired of everyone talking in riddles around me."

Ma looked at me. Then she hugged me fiercely and started to full out bawl. It was a little confusing and awkward, since I could feel Ma's soft breasts heaving against my face through the material of her robe as she cried. She didn't seem to have much on underneath.

"Oh, Goodman," she said. "I'm such a bad mother! I couldn't save you father and now I can't save you." With that she hugged me even tighter and then gave me another hard slap. "But you're a bad son, too, for disobeying me. I'll miss you more than you can ever know, Kiddo. I guess I'll have to get a farmhand now."

What?

What was she saying? I mean she's always been a pragmatist, but...

Fuck this, I thought, and bolted away from them, making a run for the door. But before I could get there, I was intercepted by Charity and the other girl.

"That's right, girls," Morgan said. "Hold him tight."

I struggled like a demon, but couldn't break their grip. They were like trolls.

Ma and Morgan came over to us, and Ma appeared strangely (and inappropriately to my way of thinking) resigned to whatever going to happen next.

. "So...?" Ma asked Morgan.

"First," Morgan replied. "Let's take him to the Nurse's office."

The two girls pushed me out into the corridor, with Ma and Morgan following.

The Nurse's office was a smaller room than Morgan's office and contained a desk, a cabinet of medical supplies and a first aid kit on a shelf. Off to the side there was a curtain, and behind that, a couple of beds for sick or malingering students to rest on. The Nurse wasn't present, and God only knows what she was up to today.

There was one object in the room that I don't remember ever seeing there before though.

Propped up against a wall was a wooden structure consisting of a couple of cross-beams that met in the middle like a big letter X. Attached to it were some things that looked like restraints. What was it? Some kind of Pilates machine?

The girls dragged me over in front of it and Morgan told me to undress, but I refused to do it. She nodded her head and motioned to the two girls, who, with a complete lack of maidenly modesty, shucked my clothes from me like an ear of corn. Then they bound me to the Pilates machine with my arms over my head and my legs akimbo.

So, there I was, spread-eagled, starkers and bound by my wrists and ankles. It was embarrassing to me, and I could see that Ma appeared to be embarrassed too, although none of the others were. Morgan seemed particularly amused. She motioned to the two girls to leave us.

"I don't want to have anything more to do with this," Ma said, red-faced. She turned to leave, but Morgan stopped her.

"Not so fast, Becky."

"What?" Ma replied.

"I want your participation," Morgan said, cackling and rubbing her hands together.

Ma's eyes bugged out.

"Dammit, Morgan, you ask too much."

"I don't ask..." Miz Morgan replied, sounding very, very serious. The lights in the room flickered for a second and I swear I heard thunder. "I demand. I hold you partly responsible for him being here."

"That's wrong! You know that's wrong. What do you really want?" Ma asked.

But Morgan just pointed a boney finger in my direction and said, "Go now! And do it."

Ma looked scared and angry by turns. I heard her mumbling something under her breath again, but Morgan just laughed.

"When will you learn your counter-spells are completely useless against me?" Morgan said. "That's why I'm the head of this coven, and you're not."

Ma was fuming. She clenched her fists repeatedly, and for a while there, I thought she was going to hit Morgan. But finally, she just sort of collapsed in on herself and said, "You win, dammit! You fucking win. So now just watch me humiliate myself and my son in front of you. Enjoy the show."

With a look of resignation on her face, Ma knelt down in front of me at the level of my groin and said, "I don't want this anymore than you do, Kiddo," as she took my cock in her hand.

Words cannot express how weird I felt then. Ma...my own mother...was holding my cock in her hand. She started tickling it with her fingers, running them up and down the shaft, which sent shivers up and down my spine. When she cupped my balls with her other hand and started massaging them, I couldn't help but get erect. When I was fully hard, she patted the underside of my cock with her open palm a couple of times, like I'd seen her do with cucumbers in the garden, assessing them for firmness and weight. Then she closed her fingers around my cock and started stroking.

Meanwhile, Morgan had knelt down beside Ma, and she was so close that I could feel her rancid breath on my cock. I swear to God I hoped she wasn't planning on getting involved in this.

"Ah, the most intimate mother and child bond," she said. "I wonder how many other mothers with strapping sons like yours are holding their cocks at this moment as well."

"Would you mind backing off and giving me some room?" Ma said. "You cursed distraction."

"Humph," Morgan replied, standing up. She backed away, but not very far.

"Oh, and could you hand me a glass or something?" Ma said.

Morgan looked puzzled and a little suspicious, but took a beaker from the shelf and handed it to Ma who placed it on the floor between her legs. Then she brought her face close to the head of my cock and sniffed it. Her tongue emerged from between her lips and flickered like a snake over the head of my cock. This was crazy, and I couldn't believe she was going to do what it looked like she was going to do.... but she did! She licked the precum that was starting to ooze from my hole and then clamped her lips down over my cock and began sucking it. My Ma was sucking my cock! How can I describe it? I've had blow jobs before, but this was... My kindly, sort of virginal Ma, who shunned men in general, was sucking my cock and she really knew how to do it. I didn't know how to take it. It was like a transcendental experience. I felt like I'd died and gone to Heaven--and Heaven was my mother sucking my cock for all eternity. But in fact it didn't last that long. I was so over-stimulated and confused and embarrassed that I was ready to shoot my wad within seconds. But I didn't want to debase Ma by shooting it into her mouth, so I tried to warn her.

"Ma, I...!"

But it was too late.

I just started cumming and cumming and cumming, spurting what felt like huge amounts spunk into Ma's mouth. It went for on for I-don't-know-how-long, but a very long time indeed, I can assure you--and Ma never took her mouth off my cock once. When I finally subsided and started going soft, she took her mouth away with an audible pop, picked up the beaker between her legs, and spit my semen into it. She looked at the beaker and seemed satisfied with the amount of cum in it. Then she stood up and patted me on the cheek in a very motherly fashion.

"Good job, Kiddo. I hope you don't hate me for this." She sighed. "You remind me of your father in so many ways. You're just as big as he was, or maybe even a little bigger. The smell of this," she said, sniffing the top of the beaker, "Reminds me of him."

"But he'll have to work on his endurance," Morgan cackled, and Ma shot her a dirty look. She wiped off her mouth and said: "There, I hope you enjoyed that...you old witch! I'm done now."

"No," Morgan replied. "There's more."

"What?" Ma asked, but I think she knew the answer already.

"I want you to mount him," Morgan said.

"You're crazy," Ma replied. "I can't do that. That's incest."

"And sucking him off wasn't?" Morgan replied, laughing. "You call yourself a witch and you demure at a little incest?"

"No, it's not just that," Ma said. "If I have sex with him, I'm worried it might harm the spell and I'll start aging again."

"Tut," Morgan replied. "That's no excuse. It'll do you some good to acquire a few character lines on your face. We're the same age, after all, and you can't keep looking like a teenager forever, you know. People will start to talk."

"Hag! I don't want to end up looking like you. Besides, look at him..." she said, pointing to my limp dick. "He's done."

"You think so?" Morgan replied. "He's young, and I can't believe you don't know how to get a man back up...even an exhausted one. But no matter, we can use my flying ointment."

"You have flying ointment?" Ma asked.

Miz Morgan nodded her head.

"It's right over here," she said, going over to the cabinet, opening the door and moving things around until she found what she was looking for. "Right here," she said, holding a little clay pot in the palm of her hand.

She took off the lid and Ma stuck her nose in it and sniffed.

"What's in it," she asked.

"Oh...hemlock, belladonna, wolf bane, henbane—the usual things."

"Wolf bane and henbane?" Ma replied. "I've tried making it with smallage and cinquefoil. But the results were always disappointing."

Smallage?" Morgan said, cackling. "No, no...that won't do a thing. It has to be wolf bane. Besides, the key is to prepare the ingredients in really high-grade baby fat."

"Good luck with that," Ma said.

Miz Morgan nodded. "Modern diets."

"Yeah," Ma replied.

"Nevertheless, this is the good stuff," Morgan said. "Very effective. Try it on him. Just anoint his...ah...broomstick...heh heh...and off you'll go."

"Is it dangerous?" Ma asked. She was always looking after my welfare.

"For you...no," Miz Morgan replied. "For him?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Well... what of it?"

While the two of them were busy swapping recipes, I was struggling with my restraints and managed to get my hands free. I started in on the cuffs around my ankles, but Ma and Morgan caught me before I could finish.

"No Goodman," Ma said. "Let me do that." She bent over and finished undoing my ankle cuffs, but came back up and clasped my arms at my sides tightly in her strong arms. I tried to struggle out of her grasp, but couldn't. I'm no weakling; I've done farm work for years mind you, but even so I was unable to break free from her grasp. She hugged me tightly and whispered into my ear, "Go along with me, Goodman, and I might be able to save you. Come along."

She took my hand and led me through the curtain to one of the student beds.

"Lie down," she said.

I climbed onto the bed and lay down. My heart was beating like a trip hammer, and I scarcely dared to imagine what was going to happen next. It was all so wrong, but Ma stood by the side of the bed and smiled down at me reassuringly.

"It's going to be alright, Kiddo," she said.

"Is it?" Morgan replied.

"Shut up," Ma said.

She undid a drawstring at the top of her robe, pulled it up over her head and handed it to Morgan. She hadn't been wearing anything under her robe, and now she was standing there in front of me completely starkers. My face went red. Ma has always been such a conservative dresser; mostly overhauls and loose tops or the occasional modest one-piece bathing suit. And on the other hand, I'd always been respectful of her privacy and never ever tried to sneak a peek at her in the shower or some dumb thing like that. But now here she was, standing before me in all her naked glory...which was pretty glorious. You should've seen her. No...I take that back. You should never see her. This is my Ma we're talking about here, but...oh well...

Her body was just as youthful as her face. She had a trim figure and the muscles of her arms and legs were well-defined—the result of a lifetime of farm work--but smooth. Her ample breasts were firm and rode high on her chest, without a hint of sag. Her nipples were pinkish-red, surrounded by faint haloes. Her stomach was flat and muscular, and just below her belly button, I noticed she had a tattoo. I was surprised; I never thought Ma would be the kind of person to have one. It was red and black, and resembled the head of a ram. In fact, it looked a lot like the logo on a Dodge truck, but we've never owned one. Then I recalled hearing somewhere that witches were supposed to have an identifying mark on their bodies—the Witches' Mark. So was this Ma's mark then? And did that mean she really was a witch--and that I was the son of one?

God! I just wanted to close my eyes, but I didn't. I let my gaze travel farther down her body to the space between her hips. The hair covering her...ah...thing...was luxuriant and a slightly darker blond color than the hair on her head.

Ma smiled.

"Let's get comfortable, Kiddo," she said, climbing into bed with me and swinging a leg over my middle. She cradled my head in her arms and pressed it right between her breasts. My Ma's breasts! God, this was so embarrassing. We were cuddling and Morgan standing right there watching us. But Ma's breasts were nice to be between, soft and smooth and smelled—how can I put this—maternal. Having my face in Ma's chest was reassuring despite the fix we were in.

She put her head down and gave me a kiss. It was a nice, soft, motherly kiss at first. But then she started licking me around my mouth and cheek and over my ear (which I admit is kind of a sensitive spot for me) and then thrust her tongue into my mouth... and that was that! It was like being struck by wet lightning. I was blown away and all of a sudden horny, despite knowing that this was my Ma with her tongue in my mouth and that this was incest. I knew that we were both going to go to Hell for it, but I started kissing her back, and tried to match her by entwining by own tongue with hers. I guess I sort of surrendered to the circumstances at that point—or maybe I surrendered to something that had been in me all this time that I'd refused to recognize. Maybe.

Ma's lips on mine, her sweet breath, her soft skin, I was delirious. I could go on and on about this until it becomes wearisome, but won't; some of the details I'm keeping to myself, so I'm only giving you the condensed version of what it was like here. We ran our hands all over each other's bodies--exploring everything. I could feel the strong muscles of Ma's back beneath her velvety skin and my hands found their way down to her round buttocks. I squeezed them. They were as smooth and firm as the rest of her, and I ran my hands all over them. When I accidently touched her anus, she twitched.

Meanwhile, Ma's hands were on my buttocks, too, and she was grinding her groin into mine. I started to feel the fire down below and was hard again in no time. Ma's middle, pressed against mine, felt a little moist.

"Here," Ma said, offering one of her breasts to my mouth and encouraging me to suck on it for awhile. She ran her fingers through my hair, and I eagerly sucked on both of her erect nipples and squeezed her breasts with my hands. I felt like a babe again, seeking nourishment at its mother's breasts—except that I was bottle fed. All the while, Ma was making a peculiar sound that was halfway between a moan and a sigh. I was totally hard now, and could have popped right into her with no problem at all. I wanted to--incest be damned--but she said, "Wait."
She straddled me, placing her hand around my cock, stroking it and rubbing the entrance to her thing back and forth over the head, coating it with her juices. Then she put out her hand and Morgan dropped a big glob of that stuff from her pot in Ma's open palm. Ma rubbed the stuff all over both of her hands and then smeared a bunch of it on my cock too. It smelled like mulch and rancid lard.

"This is the true meaning of the flying ointment." Morgan said. "The truth behind those stories about witches riding on broomsticks."

Ma hovered over my cock. I expected her to bring her thing right down over it, and I guess Morgan was expecting that too, but Ma said to her, "If you please."

"What?" Morgan replied.

"How about giving us a little privacy?" Ma said.

Morgan looked surprised. "A witch wanting privacy while having incest with her son? I've never heard of such a thing. You certainly are a strange one, Becky."

"If it was anyone else but you, I wouldn't mind." Ma replied while finally easing herself down on top of me.

"Humph!" Morgan replied. "Well... I should be getting back to the Festival, anyway. We can't have the girls tearing the school up, can we? I'll be back around midnight for the Stag Hunt. Don't wear him out—or better yet--heh heh--do."

And with that, she left.

I, for one, was grateful for the privacy. Morgan had already seen too much of me already, and this whole deal was crazy. I was a little curious about what this flying ointment was supposed to do, but didn't feel anything special—I mean--besides the great feeling of my cock in Ma's thing. I tried to raise myself up to give her a hug, but she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me back down. That stuff seemed to be having some kind of an effect on Ma, though, because she started humping me frantically, moaning and slamming her body down on my pelvic bone so hard that it was painful.

"Oh...oh...This is the good stuff!" she said, gazing wildly into my eyes. "I could fuck you to death on this." And by the crazy look in her eyes, she might not have been joking.

I was scared.

"Um...Ma?" I said uneasily. How weird would it be to be fucked to death by your own Ma?

But she suddenly stopped and climbed off the bed.

"Ma! What?!" I said. I wanted her back.

"Wait right here," she replied.

She drew the curtain aside and disappeared into the outer office. When she returned a few moments later, she was carrying with that jar of cum she'd collected from me when she sucked my cock. She got back onto the bed and lay down beside me with that jar in her hand and stuck two finger of her other one into her thing and moved them around a little. When she pulled them out, they were shiny and dripping with her juices. She put them into the jar and stirred them around, mixing her juice and my cum together. It was totally bizarre.

She wiped her finger off on the side of the bed, and waved her hand over the rim of the jar, mumbling some of those strange words again. Then she lifted the jar to her face, sniffed it and took a little of the spunk into her mouth. She swished it around a little, like she was judging the quality of a batch of wine, and then spit it back into the jar.

"Drink this," she said, offering me the jar."

"Ma, no!" I replied, turning my head away in disgust.

"Obey your mother and drink this, Goodman," she said. "Honestly...why do men think it's so hot when women swallow, but they won't eat their own sperm? This is a combination of male essence (yours), female essence (mine), with a little bit of that flying ointment. I bet Morgan never suspected I would feed it to you. Now drink this," she said, again offering me the jar. "There's a good boy."

"Yuck!" I said, refusing it.

"Goodman, Am I going to have to force this down you? I declare, you never would take your castor oil, either. Drink it! It will protect you."

"From what," I asked.

"What's to come," she replied. "Morgan means to throw you to the dogs, but this will strengthen the spell I'm going to give you. Now drink it like a good boy."

She put a hand on my lower jaw and forced it open. Then she poured the whole container of muck into my mouth. She clamped my jaw together, and I didn't have much choice but to swallow the stuff. Fortunately, it smelled worse that it tasted--actually didn't have much of a taste at all, a little salty and a little bit herbal."

"Now I'm going to give you a strengthening spell that will sustain you through what's to come. Repeat these words," she said, rattling off more of that gibberish.

I had to get her to slow down and tried to imitate her words, but they seemed extraordinarily hard to pronounce. I wasn't getting anywhere until she squeezed my balls until they hurt.

"Quit playing around," she said. "This is important! And hurry up. I need to get back on top of you or I'll die! Morgan's flying ointment really is the good stuff."

I tried one more time. She screeched, "Close enough!" and leaped back on top of me.

She fucked me like a woman possessed, which I guess she was--like some harpy out of mythology. She loomed over me, pinning me down with the palms of her hands while she furiously rode my cock, and the expression on her face was like that of a demon as she banged away on top of me. Her face was so contorted and ugly that I thought for a moment she was going to turn into a werewolf or something. And the really scary part was that this crazy woman on top of me was my own mother.

Mercifully, just when I feared she really was going to fuck me to death like she promised, she started to orgasm and I could feel the familiar sensation welling up inside of me as well. We came together. I gushed like a fire hose as I came inside her, and she screamed, "Yes...yes...yes!" as her orgasm hit.

She collapsed on top of me, panting like crazy, and too heavy to bear.

"Ma, I can't breathe," I said.

"Sorry, Kiddo," she replied, rolling off.

We lay side by side, panting and soaked in sweat. I figured it was all over, but Ma grabbed my soft, slimy cock and started stroking it again.

"It's no use. I'm done for, Ma," I said.

"Say the words," she replied.

"What?"

"Say the words."

I did as she said. It took a couple of tries to get them out, but—Lord Almighty! I got hard again--instantly.

"That's a good boy," Ma said. "Now here's what's going to happen, Kiddo. When Morgan returns, she's going to take you out into the woods and make you fuck every witch in the coven. But if you tire out and fail to get it up—even once—they'll tear you apart like a pack of dogs."

"No Ma," I said in disbelief. I knew some of these girls. They were active in their local churches and wouldn't hurt a fly. "They could never do such a thing," I said.

"If Morgan tells them to, they will," she replied. "You have no idea of the influence that bitch has over these women."

"But how can I possibly have sex with all of them?" I asked. "No one could. It isn't humanly possible."

"But this is magic, Goodman. I've given you a spell and a magic potion. If you keep saying the words, you may be able to fuck them all into submission before they get you. It's all I can do to save you." She sighed, "I wish I'd know this spell when your father was alive. Oh...and one more thing. The spell will only last till dawn, so you'll have to work quickly."

All this while, she was holding my cock in her hand.

"What do you say, Kiddo?" she asked, giving it a couple of strokes. "Let's try it out a couple of times and see how it works, eh?"

Like I was going to refuse, with a rock-hard pecker?

"Only this time," she added, pulling me over on top of her. "Instead of fucking like wild beasts, how about we make love to each other the way a mother and a child should?"

********

We made love more than a couple of times before, at some point, I fell asleep. When I awoke, I was alone in the bed. I got up, and went into the outer office looking for Ma. I found her sitting behind the Nurse's, peering intently at her pocket mirror with a worried look on her face. She had put her robe back on, and I went over and gave her a hug from behind.

"Ma?" I said.

"Goodman," she replied. "Do I look older to you?"

I studied her face, and while I did see a few faint crow's feet around her eyes I'd never noticed before, I didn't say anything. To me, she was still my young, beautiful mother.

"You look fine, Ma," I said, stroking her hair.

"Hmmm..." she replied doubtfully and continued to examine her face.

Since she was dressed and too distracted to have sex with me again, I looked around for my clothes. I didn't see them so I asked Ma about them.

"What?" Ma, who was still distracted by her mirror, replied. "Oh...Morgan took those away. You won't be needing them for awhile anyway."

"But I'm cold," I said.

"Cold? On a balmy Massachusetts fall evening? Man up, Goodman," she said, grinning playfully.

She got up and put her arms around me.

"Kiddo," I've done what I can, but the rest is up to you. Do you remember the words?"

I nodded and immediately got hard as I said them out loud.

She put her hand around it and shook it a couple of times. I thought she was going to jack me off, but all she did was hold it.

"This thing can be your salvation or your doom," she said. "Depending on how you use it tonight."

"Ah...the mother and son bond. What a lovely sight. Still at it I see."

We looked up and saw that Morgan had returned. She saw Ma holding my pecker and grinned lewdly. Ma hastily let go of me and wiped her hand off on her robe.

"It's nearly midnight, and the Stag Hunt's about to begin." Morgan said. "Here..." put this on him." She gave Ma a leather dog collar with a leash attached to it.

I didn't want it that thing around my neck, but Ma said: "Don't struggle," and fastened it on me. "Not too tight for you, is it, Kiddo?" she asked.

"No, Ma," I replied. "Bu thanks for the consideration."

"And now for your crown, Stag," Morgan said. She held up a red and green knit cap that with cloth reindeer antlers sticking out of the sides. It looked like one of those hats you see dumb asses wearing at Christmas parties. She put it over my head and tied the straps together in a bow around my chin.

"There. How does that feel, Stag?" she asked.

There I was, the only one of us who was naked and wearing a stupid hat and a dog collar. How do you think I felt?

"It's time. Let's go," Morgan said.

Ma sighed and pulled on my chain.

"Come on, Goodman."

They led me down to the gym, which was empty now, and out through the back door that led out into the woods. There wasn't a soul in sight, and I wondered where everybody had gone. It was pitch black in the woods, because there was no moon and the sky was overcast, but Morgan had a Coleman lantern and went ahead of Ma and me. We went along a path that took us farther and farther into the dark woods.

After awhile, I was beginning to just make out a light in the distance ahead of us and I thought I heard the barking of dogs. Eventually we came to a clearing where a stage similar to the one in the gym had been set up. It was surrounded by patio torches and a couple of bug zappers. Also, that tapestry of Hecate had been rigged up on a frame at the back of the stage. The area surrounding it was still mostly dark, but the sound of barking and yelping was getting louder and louder. When we were close enough, I suddenly saw the girls. The whole female student body was lying on the ground in front of the stage, butt naked and writhing around on each other in combinations of two and three or more, kissing and licking and fingering every orifice they could find in the dark. It was like a scene straight out of Hell.

So Enoch had been right. The YLF was one big lesbian orgy.

As we made our way up to the stage, stepping over and around the prone naked bodies of the girls, I was acutely aware of my own nakedness as well. When we mounted the stage I got a pretty good view of all that was going on down below. I recognized most of the girls I knew from school: girls from good families and active in church and civic affairs, whom you never would have guessed were—underneath it all-- hot-assed witches. Among them was Gershom's girlfriend, Abigail. She had the Black Man strapped to her middle and was sticking it into girl after willing girl.

So...not a lesbian, eh Gershom?

"Daughters of Hecate! Daughters of Hecate!" Miz Morgan shouted once we were in position on the stage and raised her arms. "May I have your attention?"

Most of the girls—the ones closest to the stage—stopped what they were doing and looked up at us. The ones farther away however, kept at it.

"Behold! As promised," Morgan said, pointing at me. "Tonight's game...the Stag!"

The girls all cheered, but it wasn't what I would call a friendly cheer. It was lustful and kind of menacing. It was the sort of cheer you might hear when they bring out the Christmas ham. I must have trembled a little, because Ma leaned in and whispered," Remember the spell."

"You'll all get your chance with him soon enough," Miz Morgan said. "But, first, where's our Queen of Darkness?"

"Present!"

Tabitha appeared, extricating herself from a pile of bodies, and climbed up onto the stage. She was as naked as all the rest and her chin was wet and shiny. I've seen Tabitha in all sorts of costumes, even is some pretty skimpy bikinis, but this was the first time I'd seen her naked. Her's was a young woman's body--not big in the boobs like Ma, but she looked fine enough, and I suddenly felt kind of proud to be her friend. Unlike Ma, her thing was shaved down to a little furrow of hair centered right over the crease.

Ma tugged on my leash.

"Goodman, don't stare. I thought I'd taught you better than that."

"Sorry, Ma," I said, averting my gaze, but Tabitha had already given me a boner, and I didn't even need Ma's spell to get it. Tabitha looked down at it and scowled.

"Hey, don't point that thing at me," she said. "You jack-off..." These were the first words she had for me all day, and they were harsh ones. This was my Tabitha, alright. "All your dumb life I've tried to protect you from these other witches, and now here's a fine mess you've gotten yourself into. Stupid! How'd it happen, anyway?"

"It was a series of unfortunate events," I replied.

"You look ridiculous in that hat."

"Don't I know it," I replied. "I think they mean to kill me, Tabby. But, look, if you're the Prom Queen of Darkness or whatever, can't you put in a word or two and get me out of this mess?"

Tabitha shook her head.

"Tough titty, Goodman. You know that if this were any other time, I'd come to bat for you, but since you blindly chose to penetrate Women's Mysteries..."

Fuck! That again?

"This sucks," I said, folding my arms over my bare chest.

Morgan turned me around and forced me to display my manhood to the eyes of the collective body of young witches below.

"Daughters of Hecate! Daughters of Hecate!" she shouted. "How has your day been? Are you having a good time?" The girls shouted, "Yes! Yes!" in unison and there was laughter and a few rude comments directed at me. "Well...now here's a rare treat in store for you," she said. This animal," she pointed one of her claw-like fingers at me, "...dared to violate our sacred Mysteries. The Goddess once transformed a defiler like him into a beast of prey, and he was torn to pieces by his own dogs. The dog is also sacred to Hecate, and tonight you are the Hounds of Hecate. Do you all have your ears?"

Again they shouted, "Yes!" in unison. Someone was moving through the crowd and passing out baseball caps, which they took and put on their heads. The caps all had the words "Disney World" printed on them and the bills were shaped like Goofy. So these were the Hounds of Hecate.

"Where's yours?" I asked Tabitha, but Ma tugged on my chain again.

"Shush," she said.

"Good," Morgan said, surveying the crowd of witches and their hats. "This one..." she said, referring to me, "...has been reduced to the status of an animal and tonight he will be your prey."

The girls went wild, and their cheers sounded more like the baying of hounds than ever. A few of the more overeager ones were beginning to rush the stage, but Morgan held them back with her outstretched arms.

"Wait!" she shouted, "The first one to have him will be our own Queen of Darkness. That's only fair."

"What?" said Tabitha, suddenly losing her attitude. "No, no! I'll pass." I thought I saw her flinch a little when Morgan put an arm around her shoulder.

"There, there, dear," Morgan said. "You can't. You do know this is really all your fault, don't you? If you'd had the foresight to lock your pet up with a spell, he wouldn't have followed you here. That was careless of you. You deserve to be punished just as much as he does...well, maybe a little less. But I forgive you, and, as out duly elected Queen of Darkness, you have the honor of being the first one to have sex with him."

Wow! Sex with Tabitha? Things didn't seem so bad now. But she looked upset.

"Is something wrong, dear?" Morgan asked her. "He's your best friend, isn't he? And look at that magnificent organ. I'd think you'd be eager to feel it moving inside you."

I blushed. I'd never been called magnificent before.

"It's not that," Tabitha replied. "It's just that I don't want to lose my virginity yet."

"Glory be!" Morgan exclaimed. She looked at Tabitha and then turned to me. "Can I believe my ears? Neither your girlfriend nor your mother has sex with you? Young man, you are the unlucky one. However," she said to Tabitha. "You're quite right to want to keep your hymen intact...perfectly understandable. But what about here?" she asked, goosing Tabitha in the butt.

Tabitha screamed and leaped like she'd been hit by a cattle prod.

"No, no! That'll hurt," she said.

"Of course...and we will all enjoy every moment of it," Morgan replied with a nasty laugh. "But this will make it feel better," she said, holding up her jar of flying ointment. But Tabitha clamped her hands over her backside and started backing away.

Morgan shook her head and put her hands on her hips.

"Well...I know how to deal with stubborn students," she said and gestured to a couple of Mrs. Hawke's bully girls. "You...and you. Hold her down."

They grabbed Tabitha. She resisted, but they were too strong for her, and soon she was pinned to the floor of the stage with her bare butt high in the air. Morgan patted it gently.

"Now," she said, addressing the crowd, "Who wants to see the Queen of Darkness get fucked in the ass?"

The girls all screamed and yelled like ravening dogs. A few of them even leaped into the air, waving their arms and shouting, "Yes! Yes!"

"There you have it, dear," Miz Morgan said to Tabitha, "Vox populi. The voice of the coven."

"No...no," Tabitha protested.

"Oh, don't make such a fuss." Morgan kissed Tabitha's rear end, but it was obscene to have to see that ugly old monster kissing Tabitha's perfect little ass. She smeared some of that ointment all over Tabitha's butt and stuck an ointment-coated finger deep into her anus. Tabitha screamed. Then Morgan took the leash from Ma and gave it a tug. "Come on, Stag. It's time to rut."

There was no question of resisting her. I stumbled forward and allowed her to guide my member to the entrance of Tabitha's anus. "Push," she said, slapping me on the ass. I pushed, but Tabitha's anus was clenched tight. "Harder!" Morgan said. "Tabitha, dear, try to relax." But Tabitha shook her head and moaned, "No...no!" Morgan grabbed my ass and pushed it hard. You can imagine what it felt like for me to feel her awful hands on my bare ass. Tabitha's anus grudgingly gave way to the pressure from my cockhead and I was in. She was incredibly tight. The ring of muscle around her anus squeezed my dick so hard that I thought it might get cut in two.
"Okay...move, move!" Morgan said, and I felt a sudden sharp pain across by buttocks. She had a switch in her hand and was smacking my ass with it. I had no choice but to drive my cock as far into Tabitha's bowels as far as it would go. "It hurts! It hurts!" she screamed. And I wasn't feeling so good myself, what with Morgan smacking me with that switch over and over again. I never envisioned my first time with Tabitha would be like this, and it wasn't so good for either of us. But surprisingly her cries of pain transformed into what sounded more like moans of pleasure. I guessed the ointment was starting to do it's dirty work and she actually reached back with her left arm and clawed at my butt cheek. "More! More! Deeper!" she said, but I figured I was in as far as I could go.

Now, the ointment, you may remember, had had a pretty strong effect on Ma when we were making love, but not on me. But now it was, strangely enough, starting to get to me. Maybe there's a qualitative difference between being in someone's thing and their ass, or maybe it works better with pain—who knows? But I was flying now, and it felt like Tabitha and me were hovering above the clouds dick in ass. No pain, no nothing. Just the two of us, joined eternally. This must be the true meaning of the flying broomstick. It was incredible, but unfortunately it didn't really last forever. All too soon I came. I shot my load in Tabitha's ass and that was that. Her knees gave way and we collapsed on the floor in a heap, with her underneath and me on top.

I rolled off. I was dead tired. That had been just too much. I wanted to curl up and go to sleep right there on the stage, but Morgan tugged on my leash and hauled me to my feet. "Up, Stag," she said. Tabitha remained on the floor, panting and too weak to get up herself. I saw a little dribble of my cum ooze down the crack of her ass.

"Now, Stag," Morgan said, "Your moment has come. See all those girls down there? You're going to have sex with each and every one of them all through the night until cock crow...if you can last. But if this puny thing of yours..." she grabbed hold of my cum and ointment besmeared pecker. "...should fail even once, they'll tear you apart and feast on your flesh. Pleasant, no?"

Pleasant? No. But the sensation of her claw-like hand on my penis wasn't so great either.

She pushed me off the stage into the crowd of ravening girls below, who received me howling like the demons that they were. A few of them were all for just tearing me apart right off the bat, but I was able to fend them off. I honestly don't know how I got through that night. Even with Ma's spell, it was a close thing. But I managed to have sex with them all, singly and in pairs; in groups and in combinations that were just too ridiculous to describe. At times, I was in more danger of suffocating to death than being torn apart, but I plowed through those acres of female flesh like a farmer cutting wheat thanks to Ma's wonderful spell. To try to describe every single encounter I had with every single girl that night would be pointless and take too long, so I'll just describe a few at random. (By the way, if you ever get the chance to date one of the girls from the Lacrosse Team, do so. You won't regret it.)

I'd just made my way through the girls in the Biz Ed and Accounting programs, when girl I didn't recognize came up to me.

"Hi," she said. "Remember me?"

I couldn't say that I did.

"I'm Prudence from Hester Prynne," she said. "We met three years ago. We had lunch at the Golden Point, and later we made love in the back of your pick-up. Remember? Oh, is this yours?" she said, grabbing my dick. "May I suck it?"

Like I was going to refuse her? I remembered her by that blow job, and when she was finished I fucked her so well that she commended me to her friends, who all wanted some too. They all wanted to give me their phone numbers, but since we were all naked and none of us had any paper or writing materials, I gave them my email address verbally.

Then there was Charity, the burly girl who'd been my guard after Mrs. Hawke caught me. I worried that she might still be pissed at me about the donuts, but she seemed to have forgiven me about that and we had a pretty good time together. Let me say something here in praise of hefty girls. With all that extra padding, she gave me the most comfortable ride of the evening. Oh...and Mrs. Hawke herself? Not bad. She keeps herself in pretty good shape for a milf.

Finally, there's Abigail, Gershom's girl. I had some worries about fucking her. What if Gershom found out? He'd pound me into the ground like a fencepost. But what happens at the Girls Festival...you know the rest.

She was wearing an amulet around her neck—a silver fox—and still had the Black Man on and was patting it suggestively.

"Want to try it?" she asked.

I was hesitant. That thing was big--a lot bigger than me and I'm not that gay. But since I had fucked Tabitha in the ass a little earlier, I was feeling a little guilty and fair is fair. So I shrugged, bent over and let her do me. She lubricated my anus by licking it, then shoved the Black Man into me. It did hurt...a lot...a fucking lot! But I gritted my and tried to man up about it. Eventually, it went from being very painful to merely very uncomfortable, but then...well... not bad at all, in fact, it was actually starting to get enjoyable when Abigail pulled it out and offered me her ass.

********

Dawn was breaking. I had survived and was surrounded by the bodies of exhausted girls as far as the eye could see. Some were asleep, some had passed out and some were moaning quietly on the ground. They were all covered in sweat and cum and the smell of sex filled the woods. But I was still standing, although my back ached something fierce and my dick was so chaffed and sore that I wanted to pack it in ice. To tell you the truth, after a couple of hours, all pleasurable sensations in my dick had ceased, and I was just going through the motions. It was probably going to take me a few days to recover.

I was thirsty as hell too and looked around for something to drink.

Near the stage, there was a small table stocked with some refreshments-- cookies, chips, dip and homemade brownies. There was also a crock pot full of some mystery meat Mrs. Lector had whipped up, but I decided to give that a pass. (By the way, I fucked her too, but that's all I'm going to say about it). I tried a couple of the brownies and spied a bottle of wine at the end of the table. I picked it up and read the label: "Thunderbird." Thunderbird? What kind of cheap ass coven is this anyway? You'd think they could afford some better wine. But I just shrugged and put the bottle to my lips, taking a long, long drink. It was crappy, but it was also cold and wet, and that was just what I needed.

I glanced up and saw Tabitha, Ma and Morgan standing on the stage, looking down at me. Behind them was that picture of Hecate, and it suddenly struck me how similar they seemed to it. Here you had the three faces of Hecate, a young maiden, a mature woman and a hag as depicted on the picture and there stood Tabitha, Ma and Morgan. Collectively, they represented the very embodiment of the Goddess, so I got down on one knee and bowed to them.

"So...he survived his punishment," Morgan said, and you could tell she was pissed. "Not without help, I think." She folded her arms across her chest and gave Ma the Evil Eye.

"All's fair in love and witchcraft," Ma replied. "You took Zach from me, but you're not taking my son."

"Zach was arrogant and knew what he was getting into," Morgan replied. "And as for this one, just wait until next year."

********

And there you have it.

I had sex with the entire female student body of Cotton Mather, but just that one time. After that...nada!

The next day everything was back to normal at school, and it was like that night had never happened. Which I found out to my regret when I tried to approach a couple of them and got my face slapped. Now they are all calling me a pervert, and I honestly wonder if they really don't recall what happened that night in the woods. Miz Morgan remembers though. Of that I am certain, because she looks at me like she's the Cat and I'm the Canary.

I think I might have gotten into some really serious trouble at school if Tabitha hadn't been around to smooth things over, but now I'm back to being her property, so I'm not going to get anywhere with any of the rest of the girls again. As for Tabitha, she still won't let me fuck her, not even in the ass. I don't know how long she intends to hold on to that virginity of hers, and I'm beginning to suspect that maybe she's a member of that percentage I was telling Gershom about, but she says I have to conserve my energy until the next Fair. I have ways of getting around her though. Occasionally I go up to Bay Colony, where I'm always warmly welcomed with open arms, and I've cheated a few times with Abigail, Gershom's girlfriend. What a woman! Absolutely insatiable that one. Poor Gershom, if he ever marries her, he's going to find himself saddled with the hottest hotwife in the history of infidelity.

Sometimes I look for signs of witchcraft going on around me. In school, couples inexplicably get together and just as inexplicably break up, but that could be caused by anything. But then there's the case of Mr. Hawthorne, the unpopular math teacher. He broke out in hives and then drove his car off a bridge. Some of the poultry farmers around here have been plagued by a fox lately. Most foxes just break into a hen house and carry off one or two chickens, but this one just slaughters them all, but doesn't take any.

I sometimes catch Ma looking at me yearningly, and I return the look--sometimes the heat between us is so palpable I can't stand it and I'd jump her if I wasn't such a good son. But so far she's been reluctant to add another line to her face. I remember that crack Morgan made about them being the same age, and I wonder how that could be even remotely possible, but, as Ma would say, it's magic. Another YLF is coming up though, and sooner or later Ma's going to have to break down and do something to protect her only child. So...I wait patiently like the good son that I am.

Well, thank you for letting me get this off my chest. I really had to talk to someone about this, y'know. Just keep it to yourself, okay? In fact, I solemnly abjure and bind you with words and dire spells never to speak of this ever. I don't care what Morgan says, men can be witches too.

So remember: Mum's the word.