Wishing Well
Mandy Madison was not a graceful girl.
In fact, as a high-school student her nickname among her few friends had been “Maladroit Mandy.” Her friends had been more than a little geeky.
She had blossomed nicely from a reticent and stick-thin high-school nerd to a reticent college nerd with a few shapely curves. Her curves had actually become so shapely that she had lately been attracting a fair amount of attention from male members of the upper crust of the social strata.
Mandy had no prior experience with guys of any kind, much less the athletic and self-assured variety. The result was distressingly frequent, awkward situations that she was becoming desperate to avoid.
On the day in question she was reeling from the unwanted attentions of yet another of God’s gifts to womankind. The jock, whose name she had forgotten, was clearly interested in having lunch with her. Mandy, who wanted nothing more than to eat in peaceful solitude, took advantage of a moment’s inattention and fled into the crowded dining area, hoping to lose herself.
Her flustered state of mind on top of her innate clumsiness spelled disaster. On a normal day it took all of her skill to peregrinate through the university commons to find a place to eat. Today, however, was not a normal day.
As Mandy looked over her shoulder to scan for pursuit, a chair appeared in her path. A rotund freshman had abruptly thrust his seat back without bothering to look behind him, as freshmen are wont to do.
“Careful,” he admonished her as she tumbled over his seat. He went in search of more lunch.
Mandy was caught off guard. She didn’t have even a faint clue what had happened until well after she had landed. She didn’t seem to be seriously hurt, although she’d probably have a nasty bruise on her forearm the next day. More importantly, her dignity was badly sprained. She brushed down her ankle-length skirt and looked around, trying to locate her lunch tray.
“You stupid fucking whore!” a shrill voice drew Mandy’s attention upward. She blanched when she saw who it was.
Samantha Mitchell towered above her. Tomato soup was plastered across her chest and salad decorated her hair.
The commons went silent. Every eye in the room was trained on them. Nobody wanted to miss a fight. Failing that, many of them were satisfied with a good look at Samantha’s soaked chest.
“I’m sorry,” squealed Mandy, terrified, “I-I tripped.” She fled in blind terror and embarrassment, not stopping until the whole student union building was out of sight.
“Can you believe her?” Samantha demanded of her cronies, “she didn’t even make an effort to clean her mess up. She’s going to pay for this. This was a brand new shirt!” Samantha’s voice rose at the end to emphasize her outrage.
Her coterie made appropriately sympathetic sounds. One of the boys gallantly loaned her his jacket.
She grabbed a clean chair, still furious, “She’s always been a dumb bitch though. We went to the same high school. She had about three friends and all they ever did at lunch was play canasta. Canasta!” She looked around to make sure that everyone understood how stupid that was. “She’s not going to get away with this though. No sir.”
“Samantha!” the professor sounded cross.
Samantha sat up and focused on the front of the room.
“I’m glad to finally have your attention,” continued Dr. Patterson, “perhaps you would like to explain to the class why carbon dioxide acts as a greenhouse gas while oxygen and nitrogen do not?”
Samantha loathed chemistry. She was only taking it to fulfill a general university requirement, and she felt that it was unreasonable for the professor to call her out in front of the class. She had been imagining ways to avenge herself upon Mandy, who was in the front row, when Dr. Patterson had dared to call on her.
“No ideas? Perhaps you should keep up with the reading assignments,” Dr. Patterson’s gaze relinquished Samantha from the hot seat and roved freely across the room, seeking a new victim. “Anyone? How about you Mandy, I bet you know.”
Samantha watched in disgust as the professor turned to the class brownnoser. Mandy shot a terrified glance back and Samantha and shook her head.
“Come now,” Patterson coaxed, “at least throw a guess out there.”
“Um,” Mandy ventured timidly, “homonuclear diatomic molecules, like oxygen or nitrogen, have no change in dipole during vibration?”
“Right,” beamed Patterson, “the transition is forbidden by quantum selection rules and infrared radiation is therefore not absorbed. He turned to the board talking about isotropic versus anisotropic emission and Rayleigh scattering and all sorts of other things that had no bearing on Samantha’s life.
Samantha went back to trying to come up with evil things she could do to Mandy.
Mandy sank low in her seat. The last thing she had wanted to do was embarrass Samantha, was known for her nasty temper and had a long history of wreaking terrible vengeance for the most unassuming of offences. For instance, in ninth grade one of Mandy’s friends had joked that Samantha’s haircut looked like a lawnmower accident. Samantha had sabotaged the breaks on her bike in return. She was not a well-adjusted person.
Neither Mandy nor Samantha had forgotten that, underneath her jacket, Samantha was still wearing tomato soup all over her shirt.
The rest of the class proceeded without incident. Dr. Patterson let them go a few minutes early, reminding them to read chapter nine of their textbook. Mandy gathered her things as slowly as possible, hoping to give Samantha a long head start out the door. Samantha knew the game, however, and lurked at the back of the classroom like a predatory beast, making a pretense of flirting with another student.
At last Mandy could delay no longer and walked quickly for the exit. She kept her eyes firmly planted on the ground, terrified of making eye contact with Samantha. She didn’t breathe until she had made it through the door.
All I have to do is make it to the bus stop in the next two minutes and I’ll have survived this awful day, she told herself. She increased her pace.
Even as her hopes rose she felt someone kick her hind foot, knocking it into her other leg. Mandy squealed and fell headlong.
As she plunged towards the hard tile for the second time that day she heard a terrible ripping sound and felt a sudden draft. The waistband of her skirt had caught on a protuberant screw and remained hanging there even as she went skidding down the hallway. The binder, loose papers, textbook, and pencil case that she had been clutching flew everywhere. The pencil case came open and her extensive collection of brightly-colored pens scattered.
“Samantha Mitchell!” Dr. Patterson had followed them into the hallway.
This is the worst day of my life, Mandy thought. She hastily recovered her skirt, trying to preserve her modesty as much as possible. The garment was so badly torn that she had to hold it together.
With blurry eyes Mandy set about gathering her things. The hallway was mercifully empty, with only a few onlookers. Some of them were even helping locate wayward pencils after the catcalls died down. Most, however, were watching in delight as Dr. Patterson gave Samantha a thorough dressing down.
Samantha took it with folded arms. Her eyes smoldered with fury and her cheeks flushed with shame. She watched Mandy scrabble, never once looking at Patterson.
Mandy dashed through a puddle, holding her skirt together with one hand, waving at the bus with the other as she shouted desperate pleas. The bus paid her no heed.
At last she gave up. She shook her small fist at the bus schedule, which declared that the last bus on Fridays left at 5:00 p.m., and then started the long walk home.
She pulled her thin jacket closely about her, trying to retain some measure of warmth against the freezing rain and driving wind.
“Oh well,” she consoled herself, “at least it’s not going to get any worse.”
Paul’s law: you can’t fall off the floor.
“Miss, oh miss!” a gravelly voice assaulted her ears.
She turned reluctantly to the old mendicant.
“God bless you ma’am, thank you for stopping,” the woman wrung her hand furiously, “I know you’re busy. But could you spare a moment to hear a poor old woman’s tale?” She went on without waiting for a response, still not relinquishing Mandy’s hand, “My husband, rest his soul, died last March and I just couldn’t keep up with the house payments. I’ve been living in the park and I haven’t eaten in three days. Could you help a poor homeless woman out with something to eat?”
Mandy’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten that day either. She knew the woman was lying; they were always lying. But then, they didn’t beg for fun. And she did look ever so pitiful. She was hunched and shivering, with dirty hair plastered to her face by the rain. Mandy reluctantly dug through her purse, at last coming up with five dollars. She gave it to the woman and turned to go.
“Bless you miss, thank you so much,” the woman cried, “but, if you have just a few dollars more I could stay at the shelter tonight. It’s going to be a cold one they say.”
“I’m sorry,” Mandy whispered, “that’s all I have.” They lie, I lie, she figured.
She ran the rest of the way home, ignoring the looks people gave her. She burst through the door of her tenement apartment and stripped off her wet and muddy clothes as fast as she could.
“Oh Boots,” Mandy sobbed, “I’ve had such an awful day. I’m glad I have at least one real friend here.” She crushed the kitten to her chest, dripping tears mingled with rainwater onto his little black head.
Boots, however, was a busy kitten. He had no time for the petty concerns of the human world. He struggled in Mandy’s arm, mewing in irritation. Mandy held him for a moment longer, but then let him go to his pressing duties. The couch wasn’t going to shred itself, after all.
Mandy watched him play for a while, then dug up the sewing kit her mother had given her. She couldn’t afford a new skirt. She stitched inexpertly away, pausing frequently to blow her nose or wipe blurry eyes. She stuck her finger more than once.
“You’re not going to believe my day,” Samantha declared, throwing her backpack on the floor and plopping down on the coach.
Tony tried hard to hide his interest. “Did you leave your dishes in the sink again?” he demanded.
“Mandy Madison dumped soup all over me at lunch,” Samantha explained, warming to the story immediately.
“We have a dishwasher about three feet away, you know. All you have to do is put your dishes in them,” Tony continued.
“And then in Chemistry she made a point to show me up in front of the whole class.”
“I swear, when I got a girl for a roommate I thought things would be a lot cleaner than living with a bunch of dudes, but this is like a pigsty.” Tony went into the kitchen.
“Of course, she’s the fucking teacher’s pet. The professor bawled me out after class in front of a whole bunch of people. That bitch is going to get it.”
“What did I tell you about drinking my milk?” Tony came back into the living room, holding an empty gallon jug, “This was half-full yesterday.”
Samantha got up and went into the kitchen. “Do we have anything to eat around here?”
Tony tossed the milk jug in the garbage. “It sounds to me like you’re jealous.” He sat down and turned the television on.
The sounds of food being prepared drifted out of the kitchen. “Do you mind if I use your bread?” Samantha asked as she spread it with his peanut butter.
“I bet this Mandy person is prettier than you and you’re mad about it.” Tony starting flipping through channels.
“Do we have any milk?”
“Besides, you’re full of hot air. You don’t have the guts to do anything.”
Samantha appeared in the doorway, a sandwich clutched in one hand. “Ok, first of all, I’m not jealous of that little prat. Secondly, I’m not afraid of anything. She’s going to get it, you’ll see.” She took a bite of her sandwich.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” Tony said, not really caring. “You’ve got the dedication of a gnat. Remember how you were going to take up jogging? And that time you said you’d put out the garbage? Or how about when you swore you were going to take a dump in the wishing well?”
Samantha spat her mouthful of sandwich into her hand and stared at the little wad in disgust. “What the fuck kind of jam is this?”
Tony shrugged. “It’s grape marmalade. My mom makes it. It’s good, don’t you think?”
“It tastes like you took a shit in a jar and stuck it in the refrigerator. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” She disappeared into the kitchen and threw her sandwich away.
“Hey,” shouted Tony, “I would have eaten that!”
Samantha returned to the living room. “For your information, I did go jogging on several occasions. And there wasn’t enough trash to be worth taking out that time. As for the wishing well, I still can’t believe you defended that bullshit. That was the most retarded goddamn thing I’ve ever heard. I didn’t waste any effort on it because it wasn’t even worth the paper that I would have used to… well, you know.”
“It’s not retarded!” Tony’s ears were bright red, “You think that it’s some kind of ignorant fairy tale just because it’s beyond your experience.”
Samantha scoffed. “It’s a stupid legend, and anyone who believes in it isn’t worth my time.”
“It isn’t just a legend,” Tony insisted, “I guarantee you that it works. I’ll bet you anything you care to name.”
“Ok,” Samantha grinned, “the loser has to pay all the rent for the rest of the year.”
“Fine,” said Tony, “you’re on. Let’s go.” He thrust out a hand.
Samantha shook it. “I’ll drive,” she said, “I don’t want to be out all night for this crap.”
They rode in silence most of the way. The old well that the local college students had facetiously named “Mímir’s Well” was on the outskirts of town, on top of a modest hill.
The educated generally held it in contempt, dismissing rumors of its wish-granting ability as apocryphal, but it was not hard to find someone who swore by it. It was certainly true that nobody dared drink out of it anymore; the copper content was dangerous. A signpost bearing a skull and crossbones marked it and the bucket had long since been removed.
At last curiosity got the best of Tony. “What, exactly, are you going to wish for?” he inquired.
Samantha laughed. “Let’s just say that there will be no doubt about whether or not the well is magical. I hope you have enough money squirreled away.” Her face twisted into an evil smirk. “And if it turns out that you’re not raving mad after all, I’ll at least have my revenge on Mandy Madison.”
Tony frowned. “This isn’t something to fuck around with,” he warned, “you’re just going to make her leave you alone, right? You’re not going to turn her into a brain-dead hunchback or anything?”
“Damn it Tony, stop pretending like this is real. I’m going to make an outrageous wish. It’s not going to happen, and you’re going to pay through the nose for it.”
“Fine,” snapped Tony, “just promise me that you won’t wish for anything that this poor girl doesn’t deserve.”
Samantha’s temper blazed. “Fuck you, Tony. And fuck her! There’s nothing so bad that she doesn’t deserve it. If I really could have a wish come true I’d turn her into such a raging, cock-sucking skank that nobody would take her seriously. And don’t worry; I wouldn’t make her brain-dead. I’d want her to know exactly how far she had fallen.”
“The bet’s off.” Tony said, “This isn’t right. I didn’t think you’d do something like this. I just wanted to open your mind a little. Let’s go home.”
Samantha laughed again, “Right, you thought I’d make some baby wish and then you could sneak around and make it look like it came true. Well nice try, sucker. You won’t fool me so easily as that, and you won’t get out of this bet so easily either. We’re going through with this. I can’t believe you thought I would be so dumb.”
Tony raged at her, and she fired right back. By the time they had parked they were both shaking with fury.
Tony started up the hill.
“Hold on, asshole,” said Samantha, “I’ve heard this story too. We’re going to do it right. There’ll be no loopholes.” She pointed at the little house they’d parked in front of.
Tony sighed and followed her to the door. The legend said that if you really wanted to have your wish come true you had to get your coins from Mrs. Sutton, the old woman who owned the land. It didn’t take an economist to figure out who started that bit of the myth.
Still, Samantha planned on playing by the book. She was going to hold her chump of a roommate to his word. She banged rudely on the door until she could hear soft sounds in the back of the house. It was a long time before the door opened.
Mrs. Sutton seemed to enjoy cultivating the idea that she was some kind of witch. She was hunched and wizened, with only a few teeth and matted gray hair. Her black clothing had seen better days. A funny smell hung over the whole place. She had yellow eyes surrounding violet pupils.
“Come in children, come in,” she stepped aside and beckoned to them.
Samantha opened her mouth to protest that they only needed a moment, but Tony stepped in, leaving her with no choice but to follow.
“Now then children,” she said, “I need your hands.”
Samantha was confused, but Tony seemed to know exactly what was wanted. He extended his hands, palms up. The old woman seized him by his wrists and examined them closely.
At last she looked him squarely in the face for a long time. “You’re a strange lad,” she said, “very strange.” She released his left hand, “I’m glad to see you again,” she covered his right hand with her left and continued cryptically, “but remember boy, all God’s creatures deserve one last chance.” She pushed his fingers with the heel of her hand, forcing them to roll into a fist.
Mrs. Sutton turned to Samantha, who reluctantly held her palms out also. That examination took much longer. At last Mrs. Sutton released her and stepped back, her face unreadable. “Very well child, your first wish will cost you a penny. A piece of copper for a piece of copper. To change a wish though, that takes a piece of silver. And that, my dear, will cost you.”
“I won’t be needing to change anything, thank you,” said Samantha, “just the one wish will do fine.” She dug in her purse until she produced a penny.
“Don’t burn your bridges,” warned Mrs. Sutton, accepting the penny with her left hand. By some trick she produced a smooth copper token in her right hand, “and remember, every one of God’s creatures deserves another chance.” She peered at Samantha’s face until the girl began to fidget.
Samantha took the token and, thanking Mrs. Sutton, followed Tony back outside.
“That old crone was bat-shit crazy,” she exclaimed, almost before the door was fully shut. Tony didn’t say anything. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets. He wouldn’t look at her.
They walked up the hill, side by side. The rain had started again, but it was only a drizzle this time. The grass was still verdant and, although the evening was cool, it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water,” murmured Tony.
Samantha thought about that for a moment, looking up at the silhouette of the well on the apex of the hill. “Who the fuck puts a well on the top of a hill?” she blurted suddenly, “That doesn’t make any goddamn sense!”
Tony kept quiet.
“You’ve been here before?” Samantha demanded suddenly, remembering what Mrs. Sutton had said.
“A long time ago.” Tony didn’t elaborate.
They crested the hill and approached the well. It was an ancient structure, with mortar crumbling between the stones and grass growing out of cracks. The paint on the little red roof was chipped almost completely away. They ignored the sign that was trying to warn them off and peered down into the blackness.
“You don’t really want to do this,” Tony tried, “nobody deserves what you have in mind. Wish for something else, or let’s just go home. This is your last chance to do the right thing.”
Samantha sneered at him. “Nice try,” she said, “but you’re not getting out of this bet.” She closed her eyes and turned towards the well, holding her token tightly as she formulated her wish.
“Are you certain that this is a fair punishment for someone who accidentally tripped at lunch?” his voice was low and dangerous now.
“Yes,” Samantha snarled, “this is the perfect punishment for someone as conceited and spiteful as Mandy Madison. Someone so caught up in her own world that she can’t even bother to look where she’s going. If you don’t shut up, oh devout believer in this bullshit, I’m going to make my fucking wish about you.”
Tony gave her a look of mingled disgust and anger as she faced away from him again. After a moment she dropped her wish into the well. They didn’t hear it hit the bottom.
Mandy’s calculus homework was not going well. She just couldn’t seem to get her head into it. She kept replaying the day’s events over and over again in her mind. With each rendition she felt more embarrassed.
At last she gave up on her homework. She had all weekend to work on it, after all. She prepared and ate dinner and sat down in the living room to read. Her current book was Lord of the Flies, which she found unusually germane to her life at the moment. She was so deeply engrossed in her book that she didn’t hear her roommate come in.
“Well what a surprise,” declared Sharon, “I come home on a Friday night and find my roommate stroking her pussy. You need to get out more.” She cackled at her own cleverness.
Mandy blushed at Sharon’s crudeness. Boots had in fact worn himself out and was allowing Mandy to pet him idly as she read.
Mandy had met her roommate through a flier posted on campus. Their first encounter had been only hours before signing the lease and their interaction since had been sporadic. Mandy was still uncertain about her.
She was friendly and good-natured enough, but she was loud and vulgar and boy crazy. Mandy couldn’t relate to her at all. She started to politely decline Sharon’s weekly attempt to get her to go to a party, but then thought better of it. Perhaps some social interaction was exactly what she needed to get out of her conflict-induced funk.
Samantha threw her keys on the counter. “So,” she said, breaking the silence for the first time since she made her wish, “this thing comes true immediately, right?”
Tony shrugged, “Depends on your wish. Did you specify immediate results? Gradual change?”
Samantha scowled. “I didn’t specify anything. If you think that gets you out of the bet you’re wrong, buster.”
Tony put up his hands in surrender. “Fine,” he said, “if there’s no proof by the time rent is due, I’ll pay it.” He picked up his own keys. “I’m going to a kegger at Jake Sullivan’s, do you want to come?”
“No thanks,” said Samantha, “Adrianne and Kim wanted to hit the bars. It’s dollar-tequila night at the Tipsy Badger.”
“Ok, see you tomorrow then. Call a cab this time if you get smashed.”
Samantha made a crude gesture at his back as he left.
Mandy was feeling strange. This was her first experience at a college party, in spite of her roommate’s frequent insistence, and she was having trouble navigating the language and rules of decorum that seemed to come naturally to everyone else there. That wasn’t why she was feeling strange, however.
Mandy had never tasted alcohol before. It wasn’t that she had any particular moral or intellectual aversion to it; she had simply never had an opportunity. Tonight she seemed to be offered a drink every time she turned around.
At first she had politely declined, but Sharon’s constant encouragement eroded her resistance until she found herself accepting a mixed drink from the sleazy guy who had offered it to her.
Sharon was proving herself to be a good and faithful friend, hovering constantly by Mandy’s side and helping her learn the scene. She made introductions, acquired drinks, and even bawled out a beer-pong player for spilling one of the cups on Mandy’s dress.
After a few drinks Mandy’s cheeks began to feel warm and her fingers tingled. She found herself becoming more at ease in the alien environment. She appreciated Sharon’s support to the point that she began loudly explaining how much she loved her roommate to everyone in range. She did get a bit belligerent when Sharon tried to take her drink away, but she soon magnanimously forgot the issue entirely.
Mandy also discovered that flirting, a skill that had always eluded her, was actually astonishingly easy. It seemed like every time she turned around there was another cute guy waiting to talk to her. Sometimes it turned out it was the same guy she had just been talking to, but the difference was a touch too subtle for her.
It was in this state that she first met Tony Vega. Sharon had briefly abandoned her to find the bathroom, and her latest suitor had been called away to take his turn at the beer pong table. Pretty girls at parties don’t stand by themselves for very long, and she soon found a tall, dark-haired boy introducing himself.
When he learned her name, he laughed. When she learned that he lived with Samantha Mitchell she cringed.
He smiled at the stricken look on her face. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “I think she’s a total bitch too.”
“Oh no,” protested Mandy, “I don’t think she’s a bitch. She’s just mad. I don’t blame her; after I tripped and spilled my lunch all over her she must have had such a rotten day.”
“My, you are the charitable one,” said Tony genially, “can I get you a drink?”
“My roommate says I ought not to have any more.” Mandy looked at her feet.
Tony laughed at her again, and they slipped into a natural conversation about inanities that Mandy would fail to recall in the morning. Sharon tactfully let them be, and soon they were sitting on the couch, with Mandy leaning rather heavily on his shoulder.
Unfortunately for both of them, Tony was the designated driver for his posse, and was called to duty while the night was still young. He made his apologies, checked to be sure that Mandy’s number was correctly entered in his phone, and disappeared.
Mandy and Sharon went home shortly after.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” quipped Tony as a bleary-eyed Samantha staggered to the bathroom.
It was 4:00 in the afternoon. Sunday afternoon, that is. She had spent Friday night passed out in her friend’s bathtub and Saturday evening drinking off her hangover. She had finally stumbled home sometime early Sunday morning.
“Fuck you,” she growled. She was wearing a baggy gray sweat suit, which nicely complemented her scraggly hair, sallow face, and red eyes.
“How much did you drink last night?” Tony asked in wonder.
“A bit,” was all she said. She slammed the bathroom door.
She took a long shower, luxuriating in the warm water. It helped ease her pounding headache. She washed her hair until it no longer looked as if she’d been dragged through the barnyard, and started to lather her torso.
She paused. That’s odd, she thought.
“Do my boobs seem bigger to you?”
Tony glanced up. His jaw dropped. Samantha was standing in the entryway to his room. She had wrapped a towel around her waist and was cupping her modestly-sized breasts, holding them out at him.
Like a good roommate, he took his time and carefully examined the situation. In the end he couldn’t make a confident decision. After all, he’d never before seen them on such prominent display.
“I don’t know,” he said at last, “maybe they’re a little swollen.”
“Hmmph,” she said, and disappeared.
Tony stared morosely at the doorway for a long time before returning to his homework.
Samantha went back to nursing her hangover. Her pounding temples took precedence over her engorged breasts.
Tony fidgeted, mumbled, and awoke. For a moment he was disoriented. He lifted the covers and looked down.
“Samantha, what are you doing?” he asked.
Samantha didn’t answer; her mouth was full.
“Seriously, what the fuck?” Tony sat up and pushed her off his cock, which seemed to be at full attention.
She came off reluctantly, as evinced by the loud “slurp” she made when the end slipped out of her mouth at last. She looked at him pleadingly, “Please Tony? I don’t know what came over me, but I’m just really in the mood to suck some dick right now. Unless you’d rather fuck?”
Tony looked at her closely. Her eyes weren’t quite focused. He waved his hand in front of her face. She didn’t track it properly. “Are you ok?” He asked.
“I’m fine, I’m just… thirsty.” She slipped past his hand and engulfed his cock again. She rested her weight on her knees and used one hand to stroke the base of his shaft and the other to tickle his balls.
Tony found that it was much harder to raise an objection now that he was fully awake. He lay back and listened to her murmurs of delight as her head bobbed up and down. At some point she slipped one hand under her nightgown. The pleased murmurs became more ardent.
Tony found the whole bizarre situation to be incredibly hot. Thinking about how he had just awoken to find his bitchy and cold roommate desperate to give him head soon had him shooting his hot spunk down her throat.
She purred and swallowed eagerly, still sucking and stroking hard until it was clear that he was done. At last she rolled over onto her back, letting her nightgown fall about her hips as her hand worked furiously in her now-exposed snatch. A dribble of cum decorated her cheek. Her eyes, still unfocused, stared at the ceiling as she worked herself up to a loud climax.
Samantha awoke with a funny taste in her mouth. She wondered if perhaps she had forgotten to brush her teeth the night before, but when she rubbed her face she found dried toothpaste residue.
She shrugged it off and set about getting dressed. Her breasts were still swollen. If anything, they seemed bigger than the day before. All of her bras were uncomfortably tight, and in the end she elected to forgo one altogether, settling instead for a thin undershirt covered by a thick sweater. It was nearly adequate to disguise her unusually perky nipples.
She took a long time finding something that felt like an appropriate match for her sweater. All her pants felt too restrictive. In the end she settled for a denim miniskirt and a black lace thong. She put on her favorite pair of pink tennis shoes and went in search of breakfast.
Something was nagging at her mind, but she couldn’t seem to put her finger on it until she saw Tony scrambling eggs in the kitchen. He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite read.
“Man,” she said, suddenly remembering, “I had the weirdest dream last night.”
He just smirked at her.
“That really happened? Oh, shit!” Samantha sat down slowly, “I don’t know what came over me.” But as she sat there recalling in vivid detail what she had done she felt it coming over her again.
She tried to fight it all morning, crossing her legs firmly and thinking unpleasant thoughts, but it was no good. Her arousal was rising like a tidal wave. She managed to keep quiet as Tony ate his breakfast. She picked at her own cornflakes. As he prepared to leave, however, she couldn’t help herself.
“Er,” she ventured, “was it good for you?”
Tony was surprised. He didn’t really know what to say. Before he could dredge up a coherent response Samantha spoke again.
“Would you like to, um, fuck before class?” she bit her lip and looked at him imploringly.
“You’ve really developed a taste for me, eh?”
Samantha sneered at him. “Don’t get too full of yourself. I wouldn’t touch a guy like you normally.” Her face collapsed into confusion and fear and her voice rose in pitch, “I’m so horny I can’t think straight. I just feel like such a wanton whore. I can’t help myself. Even my body seems as if it’s molding itself into some kind of blatant sex-toy,” she cupped her boobs for emphasis, “it’s almost as if…”
Her eyes narrowed as comprehension dawned. She leaped to her feet, flushing scarlet. In her mind’s eye she remembered Tony shoving his hands into his pockets as soon as Mrs. Sutton had released them. She recalled how close to the well he had been when she had opened her eyes after forming her wish.
Samantha Mitchell went from skeptic to believer in a flash. There was no other explanation. Wishes really could come true.
“You did this to me, you son of a bitch,” she screamed, “that old witch slipped you a coin.”
“You assured me that it was a just punishment for a conceited and spiteful person,” said Tony evenly, his face now impassive. He shrugged and turned to leave. “Never forget that you came up with this all on your own.”
Samantha’s rage disappeared in a moment of pure, blind panic. “Don’t go!” she pleaded, “You have to fuck me first!”
Tony faced her again, wonder written across his face.
“You owe me this, asshole,” panted Samantha, “you turned me into this, the least you can do is fuck me when I need it.” She pulled her sweater over her head.
Tony stood in the doorway, torn. He was angry at the abuse she had just heaped on him, and his hormones raged. His anger fueled his desire, driving it into a need to dominate the bitch in front of him.
Samantha slipped the spaghetti straps of her undershirt down her shoulders and pulled at it until her chest was fully exposed.
Tony made up his mind. He set his backpack down and came back into the living room. Samantha smiled in relief and reached under her skirt to pull her thong down.
As she stepped out of her sodden panties Tony maneuvered her until she was bent over the kitchen table.
“You’ve only been up for half-an-hour and already you’ve lost your panties and spread your legs. How does the new life you’ve designed feel?” Tony asked as he entered her.
“Pretty fucking good right now,” moaned Samantha, pushing back as hard as she could.
Tony glanced at his watch. He couldn’t afford much time if he wanted to make it to class. He set a fast, steady pace, eliciting a steady stream of moans and profanity from Samantha.
Samantha had always been more than a little easy, but her personality was unpleasant enough that she had surprisingly little sexual experience. Getting pounded by Tony was far and away the most fantastic thing she had ever felt.
Samantha arched her back and rolled her nipples between her fingers, panting shamelessly. It wasn’t long before she heard Tony’s breathing change to short gasps. He gripped her hips more firmly and increased his pace until Samantha felt her pussy flooded with his warm juices.
He continued pumping for a few slow strokes and then, with his cock buried in her up to the hilt, he slapped her ass and said, “Don’t forget that you’re paying all the rent from now on.”
He pulled out, zipped up, and disappeared out the door. Samantha was left to frig herself to an earth-shattering orgasm.
Only after coming down from her lust-induced high did she really consider the full import of what had just occurred. By a twisting of her own vicious wish she was being transformed into a perpetually cock-hungry tramp. She tried to recall the sordid details of her complicated wish. Her fingers found their way back to her sloppy cunt.
“Excuse me, miss?” the frumpy middle-aged woman sitting across from Samantha on the bus sounded unfriendly, “Could you close your legs please? Nobody here wants to see that.”
Several of the passengers vicinal to the woman seemed inclined to demur, but they held their peace.
Samantha turned bright red and squeezed her legs together. She castigated herself for the umpteenth time for forgetting to put her panties back on after her morning fuck. To compound the issue her knees seemed to drift apart of their own accord if she didn’t concentrate on keeping them together.
She set her backpack on her lap and hid her scarlet face behind it. It was going to be a rough day.
“Well, Samantha, I’m glad you could join us.” Dr. Patterson always made a point of embarrassing latecomers to his class.
Mandy glanced back. Samantha was sliding into her seat nearly fifteen minutes after class had started. She was dressed in a brief skirt and a thin white halter top. Had her boobs gotten bigger? It sure looked like it, and even from where Mandy was sitting there was strong evidence that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Two strong pieces of evidence, in fact, both of them very pointy.
Samantha shot Mandy a look of pure venom. Realizing that she had been staring, Mandy blushed and turned back to the front of the room.
Mandy was curious however, and she couldn’t help but glance back occasionally throughout the class period. About half the time she would find Samantha glaring fixedly at her. Each time this happened Mandy would look away and resolve not to peek again.
On other occasions Samantha would be staring off into space, or more often, at the boy sitting next to her. Mandy recalled that she had been flirting with him on Friday, but she had been sure at the time that it was a trick.
The classroom had tiered seating and employed long tables that spanned the length of the room. The fronts of these tables extended to the floor, presumably to protect the audience from a lecherous speaker’s roving eyes. As a result Mandy couldn’t tell for sure what was going on, but it seemed to her that by the end of class Samantha’s attention was riveted on the boy’s lap.
His was too, it appeared. And had her hand strayed over? It was hard to tell. It was certain that something funny was going on though.
Mandy was among the last out the door when class was dismissed. Samantha and her friend, however, remained seated as she walked past. To Mandy’s amazement, Samantha didn’t even spare her a glower; all her attention was centered on her new toy.
Mandy caught a snippet of conversation as she went past.
“…take this to the broom closet and see if we can’t finish what we started?” Samantha was saying.
Mandy blushed and picked up the pace, at the same time unconsciously straining to hear more.
“What was your name again?” Samantha asked, as she and the boy finally moved towards the exit.
“Oh good,” Samantha exclaimed, hiking up her skirt and straddling Tony before he could get up, “I was hoping you’d be home already.” Her voice dropped to a purr as she ground her bare pussy against him.
“Look, Samantha,” Tony sounded ashamed, “I feel like I’ve taken advantage of you. I want to help. I think we should go back to Mrs. Sutton and see if we can reverse this thing.” The conviction in his voice faded as he noted her newly enlarged bosom. Over the course of the day her tits had swollen into a pair of glorious orbs that would inspire envy in any girl of discerning taste. They both felt him becoming hard.
“I’m not going near that well with you again, asshole.” Her voice changed to a coo, “What you can do to help right now is fuck me.” She stripped her shirt off and treated him to a better look at her tits.
“I can’t. I have a date tonight.” Tony wouldn’t look at her.
“That’s ok; I won’t tell. Is it anyone I know?”
“Um,” Tony still wouldn’t look at her.
Samantha sensed weakness. She ran her nails through his hair, never ceasing her steady grinding. “I’ll tell you what, big boy, I won’t press the issue if you give me what I need.”
“No Samantha; this isn’t you. You don’t really want this. We can get some help. We just – mmph.” Samantha cut him off by smothering his face with her tits.
A moment later she was perched on the edge of Tony’s desk, wearing nothing but pink tennis shoes and a skirt bunched around her waist.
She leaned back and admired the way her boobs jiggled with each thrust, smiling gratefully at the boy who had so graciously, albeit reluctantly, stuffed her cunt for her.
She bit her lip to stifle the desperate noises she was making. She balanced herself with one hand and used the other to clutch at one of her immensely sensitive tits.
Tony, for his part, had his hands under Samantha’s knees to help power his thrusts. After his midnight blowjob and morning fuck he thought he ought to be able to go for quite a while.
He had not counted on Samantha’s new body however. She had been a pretty girl to start with, but now she looked like a centerfold after the airbrushing was done. Her hair looked even blonder, no blemish marred her face, her stomach seemed to have flattened, and Tony couldn’t take his eyes off her bountiful, bouncing chest. Her pussy was even tighter than it had been that morning and her uncontrollable moaning set his mind ablaze.
She was also inhumanly sensitive. After only a few minutes of hard fucking she clenched down hard on his intruding member. She flung her arms around his neck and worked her hips as fast as she could. Her well-lubricated cunt slid along his dick at breakneck speed. It was all Tony could do to keep her from pushing herself off the desk.
Samantha gasped and bit down on Tony’s shoulder as her climax seemed to intensify rather than recede. The combination of Samantha’s velvety pussy spasming hard around his cock combined with her wild pace left Tony bereft of control. He tried to slow down in order to regroup his forces but it was no good. He let out a grunt, shifted his grip up to Samantha’s thighs and rammed into her as hard as he could. He felt the strength go out of his knees as he came.
Their strokes slowed and finally stopped. Samantha rested her head on Tony’s shoulder, panting.
Tony looked down at his desk, where Samantha was oozing juices onto now crumpled papers.
“Damn,” he said, “I guess I’m going to have to rewrite that essay.”
Samantha peered between her legs too. “Do you have time for another quickie first?”
Mandy was drunk for the second time in her life.
It hadn’t taken much; she had followed Tony’s lead and ordered an alcoholic drink while waiting for their meal to arrive. Mandy had naively selected a long island iced tea, assuming that a “tea” wouldn’t be very strong.
Her empty stomach, small physique, and complete inexperience had her feeling warm and relaxed by the time their food arrived. She found herself giggling a lot more than she was used to.
“Is everything ok with Samantha? She was acting strange today.”
Tony choked on his lasagna. He coughed twice before managing to send it down the right pipe. He eyed her carefully. “She really hates you, you know that, right?”
Mandy hunched her shoulders and toyed with her breadstick. “We just had a misunderstanding, is all. She’ll get over it. She’s always been a little off, but today she was acting like some kind of, erm, call girl.”
Tony shrugged. “She’s kind of in a bad situation right now. That’s about all I can say.”
Mandy made a face. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Tony eventually convinced her that Samantha would probably not be interested in her sympathy and steered the conversation to more conventional first-date banalities.
Mandy somehow ended up with a second drink, and much of the rest of the evening was a blur to her. Eventually she found herself being invited back to his place to watch a movie.
She was hesitant.
Tony laughed. “Don’t worry,” he assured her, “Samantha promised she’d be clear of the place tonight.”
Much of Mandy’s concern faded, and they were soon stepping into his apartment. Tony froze in the doorway. Mandy couldn’t see past him, but her stomach lurched when she heard Samantha’s voice.
“Fuck Tony, I’m sorry. I lost track of the time. Don’t worry, I’ll make myself scarce.” Samantha was stark naked on the living room couch, masturbating furiously. Streaks of white decorated her inner thighs.
Tony’s brain jammed. He didn’t know what to do or say. All he could think was, hadn’t she showered after their last fuck? He was sure that she had. He just stood speechless as his roommate tried to vacate the common area.
Samantha headed for her room, one hand still buried in her snatch. As she moved she caught a glimpse of Mandy Madison cowering behind Tony.
Samantha went wild. She screamed bloody murder and lunged at Mandy, swinging her free hand as hard as she could.
Tony at last regained control of his motor faculties. He blocked Samantha’s path, forced her back into the kitchen, and shepherded Mandy back to his car.
He apologized profusely for a long time.
Mandy eventually regained her composure. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, sounding awed.
Tony sighed. He couldn’t come up with a rational lie. “Have you ever heard of Mímir’s well?” he asked reluctantly.
Mandy shrugged. “Sure, that old well on the edge of town. They called it the wishing well until some pretentious linguist thought it would be clever to connect it to the Norse myth. There’s still a bunch of crazy stories about it.”
“They’re not all crazy.”
To Tony’s surprise Mandy nodded. “Yeah,” she said, “I’ve heard some pretty trustworthy people talking about it. I’ve never known what to make of it.” She turned towards him. “We have to help her. Let’s go wish that she gets cured.”
Tony tried to convince her that Samantha had brought it on her own head, although he refrained from telling Mandy that Samantha’s fate had been intended for her. In the end, however, his own gnawing conscience and Mandy’s slightly inebriated insistence won out.
He soon found himself in Mrs. Sutton’s cottage once again, watching as she scrutinized Mandy’s palms.
At last the old woman shook her head sorrowfully. “I’m sorry my child; you have a good heart, but I’m afraid that none can help those who won’t help themselves.” She produced a copper coin and pressed it into Mandy’s palm. “I’ll grant you a wish, but you must know that mere copper cannot change what another has done.” She ushered them out, ignoring questions and protests.
Tony and Mandy stood on the doorstep, looking at each other.
Tony made a helpless gesture. “Well, what are you going to wish for now?”
They started up the hill. Mandy kept quiet until they reached the well.
She looked at him furtively, then studied her feet. “Do you like me?” she asked in a small voice, blushing furiously.
Tony put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her reassuringly, his own heart pounding at top speed. “Of course. I’m having a great time, aside from that one small, unfortunate incident.”
Mandy gave him a little smile and, blushing even harder now, tossed her coin in the well. They both watched until it was out of sight.
Tony suddenly felt very strange. He stripped off his shirt. “What did you wish for?” he demanded as he unbuttoned his pants.
Mandy looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. She toyed with the hem of her blouse. “I wished you would take me right here, if you wanted to,” she whispered.
Tony stepped out of his pants. Mandy stared at him in virginal wonder. He gently helped her take her shirt off.
The appreciative look on Tony’s face seemed to make Mandy feel more confident. She shimmied out of her skirt almost without hesitation.
It seemed like only a moment later that she was naked and flat on her back in the soft grass. Tony was kissing her hard and stroking her everywhere he could reach.
The well’s enthrallment was strong, and it took all his willpower to engage in a few minutes of foreplay before he positioned himself at her gates. He paused.
“Have you ever done this before?”
Mandy shook her head. Her eyes were dreamy as she looked up at him. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, “I wished that it wouldn’t hurt.”
Tony grinned and slowly entered her. There was resistance, but it was slight, and Mandy didn’t even wince when he finally plunged through.
It was Tony’s fourth time that day, allowing him to give her a long, sweet session of love-making.
Samantha pounded on the little hut’s door.
It was very late. She had set out early in the evening, almost as soon as Tony and Mandy had left, but she had gotten distracted on the way. Some of her distraction was still oozing down her legs.
After a long time the door opened for her. Old Mrs. Sutton squinted at her from the dimly lit hallway.
“Back so soon, child?” she rasped, stepping aside. “Come in, come in. What can I do for you?”
Samantha stepped into the drafty cottage. “I want to take my wish back.”
Mrs. Sutton grinned toothlessly and bobbed her head. “Certainly, child.” She held out her hands.
Samantha reluctantly turned her palms over for analysis. Mrs. Sutton pored over them, her face so close that Samantha could feel hot breath against her palms.
At last the witch stepped back, scowling. “I warned you that the piece of silver would be costly, my dear.”
“How much?” Samantha was apprehensive.
“Ten thousand dollars.”
Samantha burst into tears. “No! Please, I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t have that kind of money. I’m just a poor dumb college student who made a mistake.”
Mrs. Sutton eyed her with sympathy, but without mercy. “What lesson is that, dear?”
Samantha ignored the question. “Please Mrs. Sutton, I can’t get that kind of money together. Nobody will hire me if I can’t stop dressing like this and needing to fuck every guy I see.”
“You haven’t changed a bit.” There was suddenly steel in the old woman’s voice. “Earning it might teach you a little humility and perhaps give you a sense of perspective. And we both know that you could make good money on your back, and enjoy every minute of it too.”
Samantha snapped. “Fuck you, you vicious old hag,” she snarled, “you’re bitter because you live all alone and nobody can stand to look at you. You’re taking your squalid existence out on me because you’re jealous. I haven’t done anything wrong. You’ll pay, mark my words.” She struck the old woman hard across the face and stormed into the night.
Mrs. Sutton didn’t regain her feet for a long time. Finally she straightened, rubbing her cheek. A curious light danced behind her yellow and violet eyes. She too went out into the darkness, carefully latching the door behind her.
She gathered her shawl about her shoulders and began climbing her hill for the first time in a decade. Every few steps she paused to catch her breath and look up at her goal.
In the end it took her nearly an hour to crest the little hill. She sat on the edge of the well to rest and think.
At last she hoisted herself to her feet and looked into the dense blackness. She sang softly:
She tossed a copper disk into the depths.