Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ASTERIOS
Lord, save me from the raging hormones of young bulls.
“I’ll do it,” I reiterate to the group of gaping mouths with a more composed volume. “I don’t believe in the supernatural, but if it’s real, then you are all safe.”
“Professor, um…” Veles shakes his head. “D-don’t. Don’t do this.”
“Go ahead,” Gotarzes laughs. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
“If nothing will happen, then do it yourself.” Veles points at Gotarzes. “Or just admit you’re a fucking coward.”
“It’s fine,” I assure.
“It’s not,” Veles counters. “I mean that respectfully, of course.”
I smile tightly. “Tell me what I have to do.”
“Wait—” Byron puts a fist to his mouth. His pleading eyes reflect his anxiety. “Maybe you shouldn’t do this, Professor Bove. I mean—”
“You all are fucking killing me!” Gotarzes throws his hands up in exasperation. “Daman, what do you think?”
“Methinks you protest too much.” Daman shrugs. “Me thinks there’s a small part of you who believes it can be true, so you won’t risk it. However, I’m with Professor Bove. I don’t believe it’s real.”
“It’s settled,” I declare, my tone leaving no room for further argument.
The group turns their backs to me.
I follow their gaze to a closed door on the other side of the room.
“Daman, go along with the professor,” Gotarzes eggs on.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Veles quietly states. “You must be an adult. You must be male. And you must be alone.”
“How do I summon the witch?” I ask.
“Go into the bathroom, turn off the light, and stare into the dark mirror. Say ‘Milkmaid’ three times. If the human witch appears in the reflection, she has agreed to engage you. But beware. Once you summon her, you cannot withdraw your consent.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Byron mutters.
“I can,” Boann retorts. “Out of all the bulls here, the professor is the only one with balls.”
This elicits a snort from Euboia. “You know what they say about big horns.”
“Before you go,” Byron says as he holds out his hand. “Give me your cell. The magic— portal travel, whatever, will fry it.”
I reach into my toga and un-velcro the small travel pouch around my waist and hand it over. Along with my smart phone, the anti-theft device also holds my driver’s license and house keys.
Rather than slow walk to the bathroom like we’re in a horror movie, I employ a normal gait, water bottle in hand. At the door, I open it, look inside the dark room, then flip the light switch to make sure no one is hiding inside.
“Be back in a few,” I call over my shoulder.
“Famous last words,” Boann deadpans.
“Yeah,” Euboia concurs. “She’s probably gonna kill him.”
“What?” I spun around to find the wide-eyed group huddled together like a school of fish, hoping there’s safety in numbers.
“Oh!” Boann gives me her best show of innocence. “We were just saying to have fun and that we’d see you soon, Professor.”
“Huh.” I narrow my gaze. “That’s not what I heard.”
The ladies shrug, beam, wave, and essentially try to gaslight me. “We love you, Professor. Be safe,” Euboia calls.
“We believe in you,” Boann adds.
For the love of God. I roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all then step into the lavatory. It’s hard to believe that some of these highly intelligent students believe in this paranormal stuff.
I pull the door shut and twist the lock before turning to face the room. I search for signs of life, listening for mischievous giggles, while sniffing the air. Can there be someone in here with me? Is this just an elaborate hoax?
Moving fast, I take three large steps into the space and throw open the shower curtain.
Nothing.
I gaze at the ceiling, searching for the tell-tale signs of a camera— blinking red lights or reflective glints from a lens.
More nothing.
After striding over to the sink, I crouch down and quickly peer into the lower cabinet. It’s filled with what one would expect from a group of young men. Body spray, condoms, mouthwash. But nothing to signify that this is a prank.
I stand, face the mirror, and audibly exhale. I try to figure out what could have happened to convince Veles and Byron that this legend is real. Drugs maybe?
They didn’t seem the type.
With great reluctance, I reach for the switch, but my hand stalls midair, my fingers hovering just over it. Fuck.
“Can’t let these kids get into my head,” I mutter to myself. I hate that I’m growing nervous. Haven’t even turned off the light yet. “Urban legends and campus folklore.”
I shake my head in self-disillusion. Every reasonable minotaur my age knows that humans, witches, and catoptromancy are the stuff of fairytales.
“There’s no such thing as magic,” I repeat like a mantra. “Bedtime stories.”
I look to the door, knowing the group is listening and watching closely, waiting for the light to go out. I could leave, but what would that say about my character?
No. I must lead by example and do what I’d vowed to do.
I quickly flick off the light and force my gaze to observe the dim reflection. Light leaking in from under the door lends an eerie glow to my large, shadowy silhouette.
“Milkmaid.”
My cock twitches and my heart skips beats. Every nerve comes to life under my skin. I’m only a third into the invocation, but my curiosity is suppressing the anxiety that had built up from earlier when I’d been psyching myself out. It’s only a word.
“Milkmaid.”
I know the witch isn’t real, but I almost wish she were. I apparently have a fear kink. My cock is enjoying the thrill. It is now so hard it’s tenting my toga costume. Fuck. I might have to rub one out before leaving the bathroom if it doesn’t go down on its own.
Grasping the aching member through the cloth, I sigh. I knew I should have stayed home.
“Milkmaid.”
Nothing.
Silence.
Darkness.
“Hello?” I search the dim reflection one more time then chuckle. How fucking ridiculous. I couldn’t believe I fell for their bullshit story. I bet the kids were cracking up at my expense, thinking “I can’t believe he went in there.”
Whether I believe the legend or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m a professor, not a fraternity member. I’m older, wiser, and should know better. But here I am, trapped in a frat-house bathroom with a raging hard on.
I reach under my toga and grip my engorged shaft, then use my free hand to turn on the sink faucet to hide the sound of my fapping. I stroke the hard length. My pace reflects the painful urgency I feel as my balls grow heavy and ache. I glare into the dark reflection.
As the moments stretch on, an ethereal visage blurs into sight.
I inhale sharply and my adrenaline spikes.
Though the image is a little fuzzy, I can see her on a bed, naked and beautiful, her pale exotic features and pearlescent coloring on full display for me.
I watch the snowy moon goddess opposite of me finger herself as I work my dick.
I’m entranced with her, but my vision is straining hard to keep the image in place.
Just a blink, and the reflection suddenly clears into a dimly glowing smear of nothing.
I follow the beam of wayward light emanating from under the door as it bends through the running water, bounces off the shiny metal faucet, and meets the mirror exactly where I had seen the goddess. I feel foolish. My eyes were playing tricks on me, and I was about to masturbate to it.
There are no such things as sexy apes or milk witches or naked moon goddesses. But fuck, my imagination had never been that good before.
“If you’re real, just know you’re a fucking cock tease.”
Suddenly, the mirror cracks, splintering and spiderwebbing and distorting my dark silhouette.