BEWITCHED: A CASE OF MISS-TICKLED IDENTITY
by XODLIRV
“Remember, darling, I’m bringing Larry and the new client home for dinner tonight,” Darrin Stephens said to his wife Samantha over the phone. “We want to make a really good impression on Mr. Redfern; he hasn’t signed the contract yet.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Samantha assured her husband, cradling the kitchen phone between shoulder and cheek as she stirred the sauce for tonight’s dinner. “If this dinner doesn’t impress him, he’s made of stone!”
“Well, I don’t know him that well yet, he just might be. But I have faith in your culinary prowess, honey! We’ll see you around six.”
“I’ll be here with bells on,” Samantha said sweetly. With a kiss into the phone, Darrin hung up. Samantha twitched her nose and, with a musical tinkle, the phone floated back to the receiver on the kitchen wall. Samantha hummed a little tune to herself as she stirred the pot. She was dressed very conservatively, in a simple blue cotton dress, tan hose, and flat-heeled white shoes. Her long blonde hair framed her beautiful face perfectly. She was enchantingly beautiful, and why not, for Samantha Stephens was a witch. She had forsaken the life of witchcraft to marry Darrin, but still dabbled in sorcery.
Suddenly, Samantha heard a knock. She was puzzled, for it was not coming from the back door. It was coming from inside the refrigerator! Samantha flung open the appliance door, and gasped as she looked inside.
“Hi, Cuz!” a shrill voice peeped from inside. “Going to invite a girl in? It’s freezing in here!”
Samantha’s cousin, Serena, was standing inside her refrigerator, on the top shelf next to a carton of milk. She had used her witchly powers to shrink herself to a heigh of six inches. She was dressed in the height of mod style, in a sleeveless micro-mini dress that barely reached the top of her thighs, sky-blue nylon tights, and black high-heeled sandals with very thin straps. Her short dark hair barely brushed the back of her neck. Huge hoop earrings dangled from her ears, and six strands of love beads hung about her neck.
“Serena!” Samantha exclaimed, in a scolding tone. “For once, can’t you use the front door like everyone else?”
With a musical twang, Serena disappeared from the refrigerator, to reappear behind Samantha, full-sized. Samantha let out a yelp as Serena poked her in the ribs.
“That’s the problem, Cuz. I’m not like everyone else. So how’re things in Suburbia?”
Samantha shut the refrigerator door and turned to face her cousin. The two dressed so differently, one had to take a second glance to see the amazing facial resemblance between them. They could almost be twins.
“Just fine, Serena, and I’m happy to see you of course,” Samantha began. “But I’m afraid I can’t ask you to stay. Darrin is having a very important client for dinner tonight, and I have to get ready.”
“Oh, dullsville, Sammie,” Serena said in an exaggerated tone of boredom. “Believe me, I wouldn’t bust in on Durwood’s dreary dinner for diamonds. But I’m in trouble, Cuz. I’m in it up to my smooth, creamy-white neck, and I need your help.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Samantha asked, concern in her voice.
“Well, big trouble, actually. There was this dinner party last night, given by the Contessa Grizelda deCoquillas.”
“Oh no,” Samantha said, sensing doom. Contessa deCoquillas was one of the most powerful witches in the world, and a very important voice on the Witch’s Council. “Serena, what did you do?”
“What I always do, Cuz,” Serena said. “Stole the hearts of every handsome man in the room. One fellow in particular paid a great deal of attention to me. Honestly, how was I to know he was the Contessa’s new boyfriend?”
“Oh, my stars!” Samantha exclaimed. “Serena, you didn’t!”
“Oh yes I did,” Serena admitted. “The Contessa found us on her balcony. He was drinking champagne out of my slipper.” Serena giggled. “I was still wearing it at the time.”
“Serena, you are in trouble! If there’s one thing the Contessa deCosquillas is known for, it’s her jealousy! She’ll probably turn you into a footrest or something!”
“If I get off that lucky,” Serena agreed. “I’ve been ordered to appear at the Contessa’s castle today for disciplinary action. If I don’t show up, she’s sending her guards to come get me. Sammie, you’ve got to help me!”
“Serena, there’s nothing I can do for you!” Samantha declared. “Contessa deCosquillas is more powerful than any of us; even Daddy! I’d hide you if I could, but it wouldn’t do any good!”
“Oh, but you can help me, Sammie,” Serena said. “You could take my place!”
Samantha’s eyes grew wide. “Take your place? You’re not serious!”
“Oh, but I am, Sammie! We look enough alike to fool that old biddy, she’s half-blind anyway! Come on, Cuz, you owe me one!”
“I do? For what?”
“Remember last month, when Maurice wanted to turn your husband into a toadstool? I stopped him from doing it, didn’t I?”
“Only because you turned him into an eggplant first!”
“Details, details. Come on, Cuz, you’ve got to do it!”
Samantha opened her mouth to reply. Suddenly, a great wind blew through the kitchen, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Samantha’s look changed from indignation to fear.
“Serena, when were you supposed to report to the Contessa’s castle?”
Serena held out her hand, palm up. She twitched her nose, and with a musical tinkle, an hourglass appeared in her hand. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“Oh, my stars!” Samantha gasped. “Serena, you’ve got to get out of here! Quickly!”
“SERENA!” a booming voice echoed through the house. “Stand where you are, and face the judgment of the Contessa deCosquillas!”
Serena twitched her nose again. Another musical tinkle, and suddenly she was wearing Samantha’s clothes, and Samantha hers. Samantha looked down at herself in horror. Before she could protest, two huge burly men in full livery appeared in the room.
“Here she is, boys,” Serena said, indicating Samantha. “She asked me to hide her, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Naughty girl, Serena!”
Samantha stared at her cousin in horror. “Serena, I swear, if you don’t tell--“
Before Samantha could finish, the guards each took one of her arms, and all three vanished in a thunderclap.
“Ta-ta, Sammie,” Serena sang sweetly. “I’ll never forget you for this!” Serena scampered to the stove, lifted a spoonful of the sauce to her lips, and tasted. “Yuk! Needs more eye of newt. Wonder where Sammie keeps her eye of newt?”
Samantha suddenly found herself standing in a marble hall, the only light from flickering torches. She was facing a grand thronelike chair, upon which was seated a young-looking woman with short auburn hair and green eyes. The woman was glaring at her with undisguised anger. Samantha did not recognize this woman, but knew she must be the Contessa deCosquillas.
“Serena,” the Contessa said gravely, “you are here to be punished for your effrontery in daring to seduce the chosen consort of the Contessa deCosquillas! Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Contessa, there’s been a mistake!” Samantha pleaded. “I’m not Serena, I’m her cousin, Samantha! She came to my house, trying to escape you! She switched clothes with me, and before I knew what had happened, your guards took me away! I’ve--“
“Silence!” the Contessa snapped. “Do you expect me to believe a ridiculous story like that? And you even changed your hair, hoping to fool me! For insulting my intelligence thusly, your punishment shall be doubled!”
“Oh, Contessa, please believe me!” Samantha begged. “If you’ll let me take you to my home, I can show you--“
But the Contessa cut Samantha off in mid-sentence by clapping her hands. In a flash, Samantha found herself transported to a dungeon, even more dimly lit than the hall she had left. All around the room, Samantha saw various implements of torture: a rack, an iron maiden, a brazier and branding irons, and other devices whose purpose she could not even guess. Samantha herself was locked into a restraining device of sinister design. She was seated on an uncushioned wooden stool. Her legs were held out in front of her, perpendicular to the floor, and her ankles were locked into a set of wooden stocks. Her arms were raised high over her head, her wrists locked into manacles that hung from the ceiling by chains.
“Oh, my stars!” Samantha exclaimed. “Contessa! Contessa, please hear me out! This is all a mistake! Contessa!”
The only answer to Samantha’s cries was a flash of light. When it cleared, Samantha saw two disembodied human hands floating in the air before her. She gasped; these hands must be here to torture her somehow! The Contessa was legendary for her tortures. Her last victim, a young witch named Drusilla, was still a topic of gossip among the witches. When she had been released from the Contessa’s dungeon after a month, she was a babbling idiot. She had lost her mind; could not even tell what horrible tortures had been inflicted upon her. Samantha gulped as she watched the floating hands, wondering what they were going to do to her.
Suddenly the hands darted down behind the stocks, out of Samantha’s view. She could not see them, but she felt the high-heeled sandal on her left foot being removed. She saw the sandal sail through the air as the hands tossed it into a corner of the dungeon. She then felt the right sandal being removed, and saw it go. Her feet were now protected by nothing but sheer sky-blue nylon. What were the hands going to do to her feet? Brand them with the irons?
Suddenly, Samantha felt the unmistakable sensation of a finger being drawn along her arch. She let out a loud squeal. Oh no, not this! Anything but this!! Samantha had always been extremely, impossibly ticklish! After that first exploratory stroke, the fingers began furiously scribbling all over the bottoms of Samantha’s nyloned feet. She began laughing uncontrollably, twisting and squirming in her bonds.
“HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!! STOP!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEE-HEE-HEEZE!! CONTESSA-HA-HA!! STA-HA-HAP!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Samantha begged and pleaded through her laughter, but her cries brought no relief. The magic hands continued to mercilessly tickle her trapped stocking feet. The fingertips raked up and down her arches, probed the tender undersides of her toes, traced the undersides of the balls of her feet, and scribbled all over her defenseless soles.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STA-HA-HAP!! PLEEEEEEEZE, STABBIT!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! I CAN’T STAND IH-HIH-HIT!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
The dungeon echoed with Samantha’s laughter and cries for help, but no other sound was heard. Her pleas went unanswered.
“Honey?” Darrin called as he entered his home. “Honey, I came home early, ahead of Larry and Mr. Redfern; wanted to make sure everything was set. Sam?”
Darrin walked into the living room, and saw what he thought was Samantha lying on the couch, reading a magazine. Her white shoes lay on the floor beside the sofa, her tan-stockinged feet propped up on the arm. The magazine hid her face entirely.
“Well, I guess everything’s fine, if you feel confident enough to take a break,” Darrin said, walking up to the end of the sofa by the stocking feet. “What’s the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue? Koochy-koochy-koo!” Darrin gently tickled the bottom of the left foot, eliciting a loud squeal from the face behind the magazine. Darrin’s playful smile changed to an expression of surprise and confusion when the magazine lowered to reveal Serena smiling slyly at him.
“Careful, Durwood, a girl’s liable to think you’re flirting,” she cooed at him.
“Serena? Wha--what are you doing here?” Darrin demanded. “Where’s Samantha? Why are you wearing her clothes? What--what’s going on around here?” Darrin was fairly shouting by now.
“Easy, Dullsville, easy,” Serena said, tossing the magazine away. “Sammie had to pop out on an errand, so she asked me to cover for her. So don’t burst a blood vessel, or whatever it is you mortals do.”
“Pop out? Samantha wouldn’t pop out on the night we’re entertaining an important client! What’s happened? What have you done with Sam?”
Samantha continued to laugh and laugh as the disembodied hands continued their torturous assault on the bottoms of her hyper-ticklish feet. She tried to summon enough strength to cast a spell to save her, but the laughter forced from her sapped all her will; and besides, she knew her magic was not nearly as powerful as the Contessa’s. All she could do was endure it, and hope that she didn’t lose her mind!
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!! Oh, plee-hee-heeze!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Contessaa-haa-haa!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Finally, after what seemed to Samantha an eternity, the awful tickling on her feet ceased. It did not stop at once, but the furious scribbling of the fingers slowed to gentle stroking, and finally subsided altogether. Samantha’s head dropped onto her chest, her stomach rising and falling as she gulped in air in huge, ragged gasps. Her lush blonde hair was matted with sweat, and tears ran down her hot, flushed face.
“Are you beginning to repent your sins, Serena?” the Contessa’s voice boomed through the dungeon. “You will regret everything you have ever done, before I am through with you!”
“Oh, Contessa,” Samantha sobbed, gasping for enough air to make words. “Please, please believe me! I’m not Serena! My cousin is making fools of us both! If you’ll only listen to me--“
“SILENCE!” the Contessa’s voice boomed, louder than before. “Still clinging to that ridiculous falsehood, are you? Perhaps I have been too lenient with you thus far! Well, you’ll soon change your tune!”
Another flash of light, and Samantha saw two more disembodied hands floating in the air. “Oh, my stars!” she gasped. Each of these hands held a long, white, fluffy feather, holding the very quill end between thumb and index finger. The hands were waving the feathers in the air, like a concert maestro waving a baton to lead an orchestra. Samantha swallowed with fear as she watched the wispy feathers whisk through the air; she knew the torments those feathers were capable of inflicting!
“Oh please, Contessa, don’t!” Samantha pleaded. “I-I can’t take any more! Please, I’m begging
you--“
But Samantha’s pleas fell on deaf ears. Like birds of prey, the floating hands zoomed in on their targets. One flew to each side of the imprisoned young witch, and began stroking the very tips of their feathers in the smooth hollows of her armpits. Serena’s sleeveless dress afforded Samantha no protection from the feathers; their light, wispy touches sent her into paroxysms of laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Samantha’s lithe young body trembled and shook in the stocks; her fingers and toes wiggled madly, and her golden head thrashed from side to side. She fought valiantly to escape the feathers, but it was no use. Her laughter continued to echo throughout the Contessa diCosquillas’ dungeon.
“Serena, for the last time, where is Samantha?” Darrin demanded. He had long ago lost his temper, and was storming around the living room. Serena remained on the couch, reading her magazine, oblivious to his cries.
“I certainly hope it’s the last time, Dobbin,” Serena yawned. “You’re getting positively boring!”
“Oh, for--!” Darrin growled in impotent rage. He knew there was nothing he could threaten this young witch with, no power he possessed could frighten her. Something had to be wrong, he knew Samantha wouldn’t run out on him like this! Her crazy cousin must have gotten her into trouble! But how could he get her to tell him? What could he do?
Suddenly, a flash of inspiration came to the young advertising executive. It was a humiliating idea, one he hated to put into action; but much better that, than let Serena get away with whatever she had done to Sam!
Darrin threw his head back and yelled with all his might, “Endora!”
Serena gasped and dropped her magazine. “Darrin, what are you doing?” she exclaimed.
“Endora!” Darrin called again, ignoring Serena’s queries. “Endora, please come quick! Samantha’s in trouble!”
With a musical twang, Samantha’s mother appeared in the living room. An older-looking woman with flame-red hair, wearing a diaphanous gown of purple and green, she stared at Darrin with malice in her eyes.
“My daughter in trouble?” she demanded, in a voice that could chill molten lava instantly. “Durwood, if you have caused harm to befall my daughter, I promise you you will regret it!”
“Endora, you know I would never let anything happen to Sam if I could prevent it!” Darrin snapped. Endora knew this was true; she begrudgingly admitted that this mortal loved her daughter as much as she did. “I called on you because I came home and Samantha was gone!”
“Gone?” Endora repeated, concern in her voice. “Gone where, Darwin? Surely she left a note or something!”
“I have no idea where she’s gone,” Darrin said. “I only know when I came home, she was here, wearing Samantha’s clothes!” Darrin pointed past Endora. The elder witch turned around slowly to behold Serena, reclining on the couch, a look of nervous apprehension on her face.
“Um.....hi, Auntie,” Serena said, waggling her fingers in a nervous wave.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh, my stah-hah-hars!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Plee-hee-heeze!!”
Samantha’s pleas, when she could force them out between bursts of laughter, fell on deaf ears. The disembodied hands were skillfully tickling the smooth hollows of her underarms, rotating the wispy tips of the feathers in slow, tight circles. The other hands were attacking her feet again, with renewed vigor. One hand had torn the nylon stocking from her right foot, and was scribbling its nails all over her naked sole and between her toes; the other hand was gliding its fingertips along the nylon-sheathed bottom of her left foot. The combination of sensations was driving Samantha mad. Just when she thought she would lose her mind, another pair of hands appeared in another flash of light. These attacked Samantha’s sides, pitter-pattering up and down her sides with light, gentle pokes between her ribs. Samantha howled with laughter, filling the dank dungeon with the echoes of her forced mirth.
“Do not ‘Auntie’ me, young lady,” Endora said, in chilling tones. “What have you done with my daughter?”
“Endora, please,” Serena said, fearfully. “I haven’t done anything! W-would I do anything to hurt Sammie?”
“Only if it would benefit yourself in the slightest,” Endora said. “Serena, you have until I count three to tell me exactly what is going on! One.”
“Endora, please--“
“Two.”
“Endora, I swear, I’ll tell Maurice on you--“
“Three.” Endora waved her arms in a wide sweep. There was a thunderclap and a blinding flash of light. Darrin did a double-take of surprise; they were no longer in his living room on Morning Glory Circle, but were in the courtyard of some medieval castle. Serena was no longer wearing Samantha’s clothes, but a grubby peasant dress. She was locked into a set of stocks, barefoot. Two goats were tethered to the stocks, and were licking the bottoms of her bare feet. She was shrieking with laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Endorah-ha-ha!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! S-sta-ha-hap! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Serena shrieked.
Endora stood there calmly, arms folded across her chest. “Certainly, my dear,” she said, sweetly. “When you tell me exactly what has happened to my daughter!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Th-the Contessa! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! The Contessa has heh-heh-her! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Endora started with surprise. “The Contessa? Not the Contessa diCosquillas?”
“Yes, YEH-HEH-HES!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Serena shrieked, her lithe form shaking in the stocks. “S-she thinks Sammie’s me-hee-hee! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“Merciful heavens!” Endora cried. “It’s worse than I thought!” She turned to her son-in-law. “Come, Darwin, we must put this right immediately!” Endora waved her arms again, and with another thunderclap, they were gone. They materialized in the receiving hall of the Contessa diCosquillas. Serena was still wearing the peasant garb, and was panting from exhaustion, standing on wobbly legs, leaning on Endora with one hand. The Contessa sat in her throne, a look of surprised indignation on her face.
“Endora!” she gasped. “How dare you come to my home uninvited! And who are these that you bring with you?”
“Forgive my impertinence, Contessa,” Endora said, with a small bow. “But I fear there has been a misunderstanding, and I come to correct it.” Endora thrust the whimpering Serena forward.
The Contessa stared at her with widening eyes. “Serena!” she exclaimed. “How dare you bring her out of my dungeon, Endora?”
“I did no such thing,” Endora said. “She has never been in your dungeon. She tricked you into putting her cousin, my daughter Samantha, in her place.”
The Contessa’s face contorted with rage. “Then that ridiculous story--it was true! Oh, you wicked girl, you! Tricking another into taking your punishment for you!”
Serena looked at the floor, not daring to meet the Contessa’s eyes. “Sorry,” she squeaked.
“I will set this right at once!” The Contessa said. She pointed a finger at the floor, and in a flash of light, Samantha appeared in their midst. She was still wearing Serena’s clothes, her shoes still gone, one stocking torn from her foot. She was clearly exhausted, her face flushed and sweaty.
“Sam!” Darrin cried, embracing his wife.
“Oh, sweetheart!” Samantha cried, hugging him tightly. “I thought I’d never see you again!”
“Samantha,” the Contessa said, “I am sorry. I was tricked by your devious cousin. I have done you a grave injustice. How may I repay you? Ask anything of me, and it shall be granted.”
“Anything, Contessa?” Samantha asked.
“Anything,” the Contessa repeated.
“Then I ask this. Allow me to administer my cousin’s punishment.”
“Sammie!” Serena gasped.
The Contessa smiled wryly. “An appropriate request. The use of my dungeon is yours, Samantha.”
“Thank you, Contessa, but I will punish my cousin in my own way, if you approve.”
“Certainly,” the Contessa said. “I believe this has become a family matter. But please see to it that she learns her lesson!”
“Oh, I will, Contessa,” Samantha promised. “Well, gang, what say we go home?”
“An excellent suggestion,” Endora said. “Farewell, Contessa.” Endora bowed slightly to the Contessa, and with a wave of her arms, they were all gone.
The foursome reappeared in the Stephens’ living room, none the worse for wear. Serena immediately appealed to Samantha.
“Sammie, what are you going to do to me?” she asked, fearfully. “I know I did you a dirty turn, but please! I’m your cousin! Please take it easy on me!”
“Well, come into the kitchen, Serena,” Samantha said. “We’ll discuss your punishment.” With that, Samantha led Serena into the kitchen; her cousin followed apprehensively.
When they were alone, Endora turned to her son-in-law. “May I have a word with you, Darrin?”
Darrin did a double-take. “You called me Darrin!”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, Endora continued. “I want to thank you, Darrin, for asking my help.”
“Well, there wasn’t much else I could do,” Darrin said.
“I know, but it can’t have been easy for you,” she said. “Our relationship has always been somewhat...strained. I know you must have had to swallow a great deal of pride to call on me for help. But you did it for my daughter. I owe you my thanks.”
Darrin chuckled. “Endora, I think we’d better stick to calling each other names,” he said, blushing slightly. “I’m not used to this!”
Endora laughed as well. “Very well, Durwood,” she said. “When next we meet, it’ll be business as usual. But until then...” Endora leaned over and gave Darrin a kiss on the cheek, and in a flash of light, vanished.
“Excellent dinner, Samantha,” Larry Tate said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thank you, Larry,” Samantha smiled. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
“You’re quite a cook, Mrs. Stephens,” Mr. Redfern said. “Stephens, if you handle ad campaigns the way your wife handles dinners, McMahon & Tate will have my business for many years to come!”
“Coffee, gentlemen?” A serving-girl in a French maid’s uniform asked, carrying a silver tray in from the kitchen.
“And such fetching kitchen help you have, too!” Redfern said, leering at Serena. As she bent over to fill his coffee cup, the executive reached out and pinched her bottom. She let out a squeal, but did not complain. She looked at Samantha out of the corner of her eye; Samantha merely winked at her. She knew how humiliating this was for Serena; but far better than the Contessa’s dungeon!
THE END
by XODLIRV
“Remember, darling, I’m bringing Larry and the new client home for dinner tonight,” Darrin Stephens said to his wife Samantha over the phone. “We want to make a really good impression on Mr. Redfern; he hasn’t signed the contract yet.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Samantha assured her husband, cradling the kitchen phone between shoulder and cheek as she stirred the sauce for tonight’s dinner. “If this dinner doesn’t impress him, he’s made of stone!”
“Well, I don’t know him that well yet, he just might be. But I have faith in your culinary prowess, honey! We’ll see you around six.”
“I’ll be here with bells on,” Samantha said sweetly. With a kiss into the phone, Darrin hung up. Samantha twitched her nose and, with a musical tinkle, the phone floated back to the receiver on the kitchen wall. Samantha hummed a little tune to herself as she stirred the pot. She was dressed very conservatively, in a simple blue cotton dress, tan hose, and flat-heeled white shoes. Her long blonde hair framed her beautiful face perfectly. She was enchantingly beautiful, and why not, for Samantha Stephens was a witch. She had forsaken the life of witchcraft to marry Darrin, but still dabbled in sorcery.
Suddenly, Samantha heard a knock. She was puzzled, for it was not coming from the back door. It was coming from inside the refrigerator! Samantha flung open the appliance door, and gasped as she looked inside.
“Hi, Cuz!” a shrill voice peeped from inside. “Going to invite a girl in? It’s freezing in here!”
Samantha’s cousin, Serena, was standing inside her refrigerator, on the top shelf next to a carton of milk. She had used her witchly powers to shrink herself to a heigh of six inches. She was dressed in the height of mod style, in a sleeveless micro-mini dress that barely reached the top of her thighs, sky-blue nylon tights, and black high-heeled sandals with very thin straps. Her short dark hair barely brushed the back of her neck. Huge hoop earrings dangled from her ears, and six strands of love beads hung about her neck.
“Serena!” Samantha exclaimed, in a scolding tone. “For once, can’t you use the front door like everyone else?”
With a musical twang, Serena disappeared from the refrigerator, to reappear behind Samantha, full-sized. Samantha let out a yelp as Serena poked her in the ribs.
“That’s the problem, Cuz. I’m not like everyone else. So how’re things in Suburbia?”
Samantha shut the refrigerator door and turned to face her cousin. The two dressed so differently, one had to take a second glance to see the amazing facial resemblance between them. They could almost be twins.
“Just fine, Serena, and I’m happy to see you of course,” Samantha began. “But I’m afraid I can’t ask you to stay. Darrin is having a very important client for dinner tonight, and I have to get ready.”
“Oh, dullsville, Sammie,” Serena said in an exaggerated tone of boredom. “Believe me, I wouldn’t bust in on Durwood’s dreary dinner for diamonds. But I’m in trouble, Cuz. I’m in it up to my smooth, creamy-white neck, and I need your help.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Samantha asked, concern in her voice.
“Well, big trouble, actually. There was this dinner party last night, given by the Contessa Grizelda deCoquillas.”
“Oh no,” Samantha said, sensing doom. Contessa deCoquillas was one of the most powerful witches in the world, and a very important voice on the Witch’s Council. “Serena, what did you do?”
“What I always do, Cuz,” Serena said. “Stole the hearts of every handsome man in the room. One fellow in particular paid a great deal of attention to me. Honestly, how was I to know he was the Contessa’s new boyfriend?”
“Oh, my stars!” Samantha exclaimed. “Serena, you didn’t!”
“Oh yes I did,” Serena admitted. “The Contessa found us on her balcony. He was drinking champagne out of my slipper.” Serena giggled. “I was still wearing it at the time.”
“Serena, you are in trouble! If there’s one thing the Contessa deCosquillas is known for, it’s her jealousy! She’ll probably turn you into a footrest or something!”
“If I get off that lucky,” Serena agreed. “I’ve been ordered to appear at the Contessa’s castle today for disciplinary action. If I don’t show up, she’s sending her guards to come get me. Sammie, you’ve got to help me!”
“Serena, there’s nothing I can do for you!” Samantha declared. “Contessa deCosquillas is more powerful than any of us; even Daddy! I’d hide you if I could, but it wouldn’t do any good!”
“Oh, but you can help me, Sammie,” Serena said. “You could take my place!”
Samantha’s eyes grew wide. “Take your place? You’re not serious!”
“Oh, but I am, Sammie! We look enough alike to fool that old biddy, she’s half-blind anyway! Come on, Cuz, you owe me one!”
“I do? For what?”
“Remember last month, when Maurice wanted to turn your husband into a toadstool? I stopped him from doing it, didn’t I?”
“Only because you turned him into an eggplant first!”
“Details, details. Come on, Cuz, you’ve got to do it!”
Samantha opened her mouth to reply. Suddenly, a great wind blew through the kitchen, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Samantha’s look changed from indignation to fear.
“Serena, when were you supposed to report to the Contessa’s castle?”
Serena held out her hand, palm up. She twitched her nose, and with a musical tinkle, an hourglass appeared in her hand. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“Oh, my stars!” Samantha gasped. “Serena, you’ve got to get out of here! Quickly!”
“SERENA!” a booming voice echoed through the house. “Stand where you are, and face the judgment of the Contessa deCosquillas!”
Serena twitched her nose again. Another musical tinkle, and suddenly she was wearing Samantha’s clothes, and Samantha hers. Samantha looked down at herself in horror. Before she could protest, two huge burly men in full livery appeared in the room.
“Here she is, boys,” Serena said, indicating Samantha. “She asked me to hide her, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Naughty girl, Serena!”
Samantha stared at her cousin in horror. “Serena, I swear, if you don’t tell--“
Before Samantha could finish, the guards each took one of her arms, and all three vanished in a thunderclap.
“Ta-ta, Sammie,” Serena sang sweetly. “I’ll never forget you for this!” Serena scampered to the stove, lifted a spoonful of the sauce to her lips, and tasted. “Yuk! Needs more eye of newt. Wonder where Sammie keeps her eye of newt?”
Samantha suddenly found herself standing in a marble hall, the only light from flickering torches. She was facing a grand thronelike chair, upon which was seated a young-looking woman with short auburn hair and green eyes. The woman was glaring at her with undisguised anger. Samantha did not recognize this woman, but knew she must be the Contessa deCosquillas.
“Serena,” the Contessa said gravely, “you are here to be punished for your effrontery in daring to seduce the chosen consort of the Contessa deCosquillas! Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Contessa, there’s been a mistake!” Samantha pleaded. “I’m not Serena, I’m her cousin, Samantha! She came to my house, trying to escape you! She switched clothes with me, and before I knew what had happened, your guards took me away! I’ve--“
“Silence!” the Contessa snapped. “Do you expect me to believe a ridiculous story like that? And you even changed your hair, hoping to fool me! For insulting my intelligence thusly, your punishment shall be doubled!”
“Oh, Contessa, please believe me!” Samantha begged. “If you’ll let me take you to my home, I can show you--“
But the Contessa cut Samantha off in mid-sentence by clapping her hands. In a flash, Samantha found herself transported to a dungeon, even more dimly lit than the hall she had left. All around the room, Samantha saw various implements of torture: a rack, an iron maiden, a brazier and branding irons, and other devices whose purpose she could not even guess. Samantha herself was locked into a restraining device of sinister design. She was seated on an uncushioned wooden stool. Her legs were held out in front of her, perpendicular to the floor, and her ankles were locked into a set of wooden stocks. Her arms were raised high over her head, her wrists locked into manacles that hung from the ceiling by chains.
“Oh, my stars!” Samantha exclaimed. “Contessa! Contessa, please hear me out! This is all a mistake! Contessa!”
The only answer to Samantha’s cries was a flash of light. When it cleared, Samantha saw two disembodied human hands floating in the air before her. She gasped; these hands must be here to torture her somehow! The Contessa was legendary for her tortures. Her last victim, a young witch named Drusilla, was still a topic of gossip among the witches. When she had been released from the Contessa’s dungeon after a month, she was a babbling idiot. She had lost her mind; could not even tell what horrible tortures had been inflicted upon her. Samantha gulped as she watched the floating hands, wondering what they were going to do to her.
Suddenly the hands darted down behind the stocks, out of Samantha’s view. She could not see them, but she felt the high-heeled sandal on her left foot being removed. She saw the sandal sail through the air as the hands tossed it into a corner of the dungeon. She then felt the right sandal being removed, and saw it go. Her feet were now protected by nothing but sheer sky-blue nylon. What were the hands going to do to her feet? Brand them with the irons?
Suddenly, Samantha felt the unmistakable sensation of a finger being drawn along her arch. She let out a loud squeal. Oh no, not this! Anything but this!! Samantha had always been extremely, impossibly ticklish! After that first exploratory stroke, the fingers began furiously scribbling all over the bottoms of Samantha’s nyloned feet. She began laughing uncontrollably, twisting and squirming in her bonds.
“HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!! STOP!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEE-HEE-HEEZE!! CONTESSA-HA-HA!! STA-HA-HAP!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Samantha begged and pleaded through her laughter, but her cries brought no relief. The magic hands continued to mercilessly tickle her trapped stocking feet. The fingertips raked up and down her arches, probed the tender undersides of her toes, traced the undersides of the balls of her feet, and scribbled all over her defenseless soles.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STA-HA-HAP!! PLEEEEEEEZE, STABBIT!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! I CAN’T STAND IH-HIH-HIT!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
The dungeon echoed with Samantha’s laughter and cries for help, but no other sound was heard. Her pleas went unanswered.
“Honey?” Darrin called as he entered his home. “Honey, I came home early, ahead of Larry and Mr. Redfern; wanted to make sure everything was set. Sam?”
Darrin walked into the living room, and saw what he thought was Samantha lying on the couch, reading a magazine. Her white shoes lay on the floor beside the sofa, her tan-stockinged feet propped up on the arm. The magazine hid her face entirely.
“Well, I guess everything’s fine, if you feel confident enough to take a break,” Darrin said, walking up to the end of the sofa by the stocking feet. “What’s the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue? Koochy-koochy-koo!” Darrin gently tickled the bottom of the left foot, eliciting a loud squeal from the face behind the magazine. Darrin’s playful smile changed to an expression of surprise and confusion when the magazine lowered to reveal Serena smiling slyly at him.
“Careful, Durwood, a girl’s liable to think you’re flirting,” she cooed at him.
“Serena? Wha--what are you doing here?” Darrin demanded. “Where’s Samantha? Why are you wearing her clothes? What--what’s going on around here?” Darrin was fairly shouting by now.
“Easy, Dullsville, easy,” Serena said, tossing the magazine away. “Sammie had to pop out on an errand, so she asked me to cover for her. So don’t burst a blood vessel, or whatever it is you mortals do.”
“Pop out? Samantha wouldn’t pop out on the night we’re entertaining an important client! What’s happened? What have you done with Sam?”
Samantha continued to laugh and laugh as the disembodied hands continued their torturous assault on the bottoms of her hyper-ticklish feet. She tried to summon enough strength to cast a spell to save her, but the laughter forced from her sapped all her will; and besides, she knew her magic was not nearly as powerful as the Contessa’s. All she could do was endure it, and hope that she didn’t lose her mind!
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!! Oh, plee-hee-heeze!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Contessaa-haa-haa!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Finally, after what seemed to Samantha an eternity, the awful tickling on her feet ceased. It did not stop at once, but the furious scribbling of the fingers slowed to gentle stroking, and finally subsided altogether. Samantha’s head dropped onto her chest, her stomach rising and falling as she gulped in air in huge, ragged gasps. Her lush blonde hair was matted with sweat, and tears ran down her hot, flushed face.
“Are you beginning to repent your sins, Serena?” the Contessa’s voice boomed through the dungeon. “You will regret everything you have ever done, before I am through with you!”
“Oh, Contessa,” Samantha sobbed, gasping for enough air to make words. “Please, please believe me! I’m not Serena! My cousin is making fools of us both! If you’ll only listen to me--“
“SILENCE!” the Contessa’s voice boomed, louder than before. “Still clinging to that ridiculous falsehood, are you? Perhaps I have been too lenient with you thus far! Well, you’ll soon change your tune!”
Another flash of light, and Samantha saw two more disembodied hands floating in the air. “Oh, my stars!” she gasped. Each of these hands held a long, white, fluffy feather, holding the very quill end between thumb and index finger. The hands were waving the feathers in the air, like a concert maestro waving a baton to lead an orchestra. Samantha swallowed with fear as she watched the wispy feathers whisk through the air; she knew the torments those feathers were capable of inflicting!
“Oh please, Contessa, don’t!” Samantha pleaded. “I-I can’t take any more! Please, I’m begging
you--“
But Samantha’s pleas fell on deaf ears. Like birds of prey, the floating hands zoomed in on their targets. One flew to each side of the imprisoned young witch, and began stroking the very tips of their feathers in the smooth hollows of her armpits. Serena’s sleeveless dress afforded Samantha no protection from the feathers; their light, wispy touches sent her into paroxysms of laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Samantha’s lithe young body trembled and shook in the stocks; her fingers and toes wiggled madly, and her golden head thrashed from side to side. She fought valiantly to escape the feathers, but it was no use. Her laughter continued to echo throughout the Contessa diCosquillas’ dungeon.
“Serena, for the last time, where is Samantha?” Darrin demanded. He had long ago lost his temper, and was storming around the living room. Serena remained on the couch, reading her magazine, oblivious to his cries.
“I certainly hope it’s the last time, Dobbin,” Serena yawned. “You’re getting positively boring!”
“Oh, for--!” Darrin growled in impotent rage. He knew there was nothing he could threaten this young witch with, no power he possessed could frighten her. Something had to be wrong, he knew Samantha wouldn’t run out on him like this! Her crazy cousin must have gotten her into trouble! But how could he get her to tell him? What could he do?
Suddenly, a flash of inspiration came to the young advertising executive. It was a humiliating idea, one he hated to put into action; but much better that, than let Serena get away with whatever she had done to Sam!
Darrin threw his head back and yelled with all his might, “Endora!”
Serena gasped and dropped her magazine. “Darrin, what are you doing?” she exclaimed.
“Endora!” Darrin called again, ignoring Serena’s queries. “Endora, please come quick! Samantha’s in trouble!”
With a musical twang, Samantha’s mother appeared in the living room. An older-looking woman with flame-red hair, wearing a diaphanous gown of purple and green, she stared at Darrin with malice in her eyes.
“My daughter in trouble?” she demanded, in a voice that could chill molten lava instantly. “Durwood, if you have caused harm to befall my daughter, I promise you you will regret it!”
“Endora, you know I would never let anything happen to Sam if I could prevent it!” Darrin snapped. Endora knew this was true; she begrudgingly admitted that this mortal loved her daughter as much as she did. “I called on you because I came home and Samantha was gone!”
“Gone?” Endora repeated, concern in her voice. “Gone where, Darwin? Surely she left a note or something!”
“I have no idea where she’s gone,” Darrin said. “I only know when I came home, she was here, wearing Samantha’s clothes!” Darrin pointed past Endora. The elder witch turned around slowly to behold Serena, reclining on the couch, a look of nervous apprehension on her face.
“Um.....hi, Auntie,” Serena said, waggling her fingers in a nervous wave.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh, my stah-hah-hars!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Plee-hee-heeze!!”
Samantha’s pleas, when she could force them out between bursts of laughter, fell on deaf ears. The disembodied hands were skillfully tickling the smooth hollows of her underarms, rotating the wispy tips of the feathers in slow, tight circles. The other hands were attacking her feet again, with renewed vigor. One hand had torn the nylon stocking from her right foot, and was scribbling its nails all over her naked sole and between her toes; the other hand was gliding its fingertips along the nylon-sheathed bottom of her left foot. The combination of sensations was driving Samantha mad. Just when she thought she would lose her mind, another pair of hands appeared in another flash of light. These attacked Samantha’s sides, pitter-pattering up and down her sides with light, gentle pokes between her ribs. Samantha howled with laughter, filling the dank dungeon with the echoes of her forced mirth.
“Do not ‘Auntie’ me, young lady,” Endora said, in chilling tones. “What have you done with my daughter?”
“Endora, please,” Serena said, fearfully. “I haven’t done anything! W-would I do anything to hurt Sammie?”
“Only if it would benefit yourself in the slightest,” Endora said. “Serena, you have until I count three to tell me exactly what is going on! One.”
“Endora, please--“
“Two.”
“Endora, I swear, I’ll tell Maurice on you--“
“Three.” Endora waved her arms in a wide sweep. There was a thunderclap and a blinding flash of light. Darrin did a double-take of surprise; they were no longer in his living room on Morning Glory Circle, but were in the courtyard of some medieval castle. Serena was no longer wearing Samantha’s clothes, but a grubby peasant dress. She was locked into a set of stocks, barefoot. Two goats were tethered to the stocks, and were licking the bottoms of her bare feet. She was shrieking with laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Endorah-ha-ha!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! S-sta-ha-hap! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Serena shrieked.
Endora stood there calmly, arms folded across her chest. “Certainly, my dear,” she said, sweetly. “When you tell me exactly what has happened to my daughter!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Th-the Contessa! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! The Contessa has heh-heh-her! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Endora started with surprise. “The Contessa? Not the Contessa diCosquillas?”
“Yes, YEH-HEH-HES!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Serena shrieked, her lithe form shaking in the stocks. “S-she thinks Sammie’s me-hee-hee! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“Merciful heavens!” Endora cried. “It’s worse than I thought!” She turned to her son-in-law. “Come, Darwin, we must put this right immediately!” Endora waved her arms again, and with another thunderclap, they were gone. They materialized in the receiving hall of the Contessa diCosquillas. Serena was still wearing the peasant garb, and was panting from exhaustion, standing on wobbly legs, leaning on Endora with one hand. The Contessa sat in her throne, a look of surprised indignation on her face.
“Endora!” she gasped. “How dare you come to my home uninvited! And who are these that you bring with you?”
“Forgive my impertinence, Contessa,” Endora said, with a small bow. “But I fear there has been a misunderstanding, and I come to correct it.” Endora thrust the whimpering Serena forward.
The Contessa stared at her with widening eyes. “Serena!” she exclaimed. “How dare you bring her out of my dungeon, Endora?”
“I did no such thing,” Endora said. “She has never been in your dungeon. She tricked you into putting her cousin, my daughter Samantha, in her place.”
The Contessa’s face contorted with rage. “Then that ridiculous story--it was true! Oh, you wicked girl, you! Tricking another into taking your punishment for you!”
Serena looked at the floor, not daring to meet the Contessa’s eyes. “Sorry,” she squeaked.
“I will set this right at once!” The Contessa said. She pointed a finger at the floor, and in a flash of light, Samantha appeared in their midst. She was still wearing Serena’s clothes, her shoes still gone, one stocking torn from her foot. She was clearly exhausted, her face flushed and sweaty.
“Sam!” Darrin cried, embracing his wife.
“Oh, sweetheart!” Samantha cried, hugging him tightly. “I thought I’d never see you again!”
“Samantha,” the Contessa said, “I am sorry. I was tricked by your devious cousin. I have done you a grave injustice. How may I repay you? Ask anything of me, and it shall be granted.”
“Anything, Contessa?” Samantha asked.
“Anything,” the Contessa repeated.
“Then I ask this. Allow me to administer my cousin’s punishment.”
“Sammie!” Serena gasped.
The Contessa smiled wryly. “An appropriate request. The use of my dungeon is yours, Samantha.”
“Thank you, Contessa, but I will punish my cousin in my own way, if you approve.”
“Certainly,” the Contessa said. “I believe this has become a family matter. But please see to it that she learns her lesson!”
“Oh, I will, Contessa,” Samantha promised. “Well, gang, what say we go home?”
“An excellent suggestion,” Endora said. “Farewell, Contessa.” Endora bowed slightly to the Contessa, and with a wave of her arms, they were all gone.
The foursome reappeared in the Stephens’ living room, none the worse for wear. Serena immediately appealed to Samantha.
“Sammie, what are you going to do to me?” she asked, fearfully. “I know I did you a dirty turn, but please! I’m your cousin! Please take it easy on me!”
“Well, come into the kitchen, Serena,” Samantha said. “We’ll discuss your punishment.” With that, Samantha led Serena into the kitchen; her cousin followed apprehensively.
When they were alone, Endora turned to her son-in-law. “May I have a word with you, Darrin?”
Darrin did a double-take. “You called me Darrin!”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, Endora continued. “I want to thank you, Darrin, for asking my help.”
“Well, there wasn’t much else I could do,” Darrin said.
“I know, but it can’t have been easy for you,” she said. “Our relationship has always been somewhat...strained. I know you must have had to swallow a great deal of pride to call on me for help. But you did it for my daughter. I owe you my thanks.”
Darrin chuckled. “Endora, I think we’d better stick to calling each other names,” he said, blushing slightly. “I’m not used to this!”
Endora laughed as well. “Very well, Durwood,” she said. “When next we meet, it’ll be business as usual. But until then...” Endora leaned over and gave Darrin a kiss on the cheek, and in a flash of light, vanished.
“Excellent dinner, Samantha,” Larry Tate said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thank you, Larry,” Samantha smiled. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
“You’re quite a cook, Mrs. Stephens,” Mr. Redfern said. “Stephens, if you handle ad campaigns the way your wife handles dinners, McMahon & Tate will have my business for many years to come!”
“Coffee, gentlemen?” A serving-girl in a French maid’s uniform asked, carrying a silver tray in from the kitchen.
“And such fetching kitchen help you have, too!” Redfern said, leering at Serena. As she bent over to fill his coffee cup, the executive reached out and pinched her bottom. She let out a squeal, but did not complain. She looked at Samantha out of the corner of her eye; Samantha merely winked at her. She knew how humiliating this was for Serena; but far better than the Contessa’s dungeon!
THE END
