[Fiction] It’s a Kind of Magic – Part 3

So here it is! The belated conclusion of “It’s a Kind of Magic”.

…it kinda took me this long to realize that this thing probably needs content warnings, huh? Sorry about that. We’ve got: rape, incest?, mind break, vore, death, soul devouring, humiliation, BDSM themes… I think that’s it? Please let me know if I missed something.

Oh, and if you missed the first two parts this will make no sense. I’m not sure it makes sense anyway, but it will really really make no sense without the first parts. I’ll post them all together somewhere. Sometime. Somehow.

I was naked and wet in the dark.

“Well…shit.” Charlie said.

There was a loud clunk and a hum. A light came on, illuminating a cluttered backstage space. Charlie sat on a reversed chair and made a motion like striking a match. With a sizzle the tip of her finger caught fire and she lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag. “It’s always a bit more work once you figure that out.”

I curled my legs up to hide my nudity. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. “You’re sick! Just evil! That thing with my mom…”

She gave a soft chuckle: “Oh no no no, kiddo. This is your mind. Remember? Your desires, your fears, your fantasies. All you. Besides, you and I both would have had an easier time of this if your brains had melted out with your tongue buried in mommy’s snatch.”

I wretched a little, but my cheeks burned scarlet. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, let me go? Just walk away?”

She took another drag and quirked up one side of her mouth as she blew smoke. “Sorry sweetie, no can do. There are bills to pay to stay this pretty,” she said

“I’m not powerless here. I know that now. This is still my mind.”

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Technically true. But it’s not worth the headache. I’ve been doing this for centuries. You’re not the first. You won’t be the last. You’ll get over it. You won’t even remember what freedom is, by the time I’m done with you.”

I pushed myself up and lunged towards her. I was not powerless here and I wouldn’t let her do this to me. I closed the distance between us, focusing on my anger and disgust as I did. I had looked up to this woman, fawned over her, fantasized about her. But this? This was the truth: she was an unhuman thing, a walking corpse. I would not let her take me! I screamed in anger and frustration and pain as my body was sheathed in a burning radiance.

She hissed and flipped backwards, placing the chair between us. And she used my own momentum to send my flying. I thumped hard into a corner and by the time I was on my feet she had conjured a black cane tipped in silver and had taken up a mocking fencer’s stance.

“You had a chance.” She spat, and a cruel smile bloomed on her lips. “Now, I’m going to make it hurt.”

I hesitantly took a few steps towards her. She lashed out and I dodged back. I lunged and the tip of my blazing fist passed to the right of her head as she leaned out of the way just a bit too slowly. A thin slice appeared on her cheek where my knuckle grazed her, trailing black wisps of smoke. She cursed in a language I didn’t know, hauled back with her free hand and slapped me across the face with enough force that I staggered back and fell on my ass.

She advanced on me, but I swept at her legs and she jumped back, giving me time to stumble back up to my feet. I wobbled a bit and my light flickered. I heard Charlie snicker, “You can’t keep this up.”

I bit back my fear and focused, starting to shine bright again. “Try me.”

With a snarl she leapt at me, cane raised back, only to find my knee colliding with her stomach. She hissed and dropped the cane as I clumsily wrestled her to the ground, trying to hold her to me and let my righteous anger burn her. She wriggled and hissed like a cat dropped in a bath and eventually squirmed out from under me. Her boot collided hard with my chest over and over again, and I heard a snap as I squirmed helpless on the floor.

“You bitch,” Charlie said as she pulled herself up. Her clothes and body were tatters, flesh weeping and blistered. She held out a blackened hand, the glove had burned away against her skin, and the cane whistled across the room back to its owner. “What the hell makes you hate me this much? We both know you fantasize about me.” Her words were ragged and there was pain in her voice.

I pushed myself up on one arm, tried to struggle to my feet, and failed. I pressed my face against the cool wood of the floor and kept trying to tell myself that this wasn’t really my body, these almost certainly broken ribs were a figment of my imagination. “I didn’t just fantasize about you.” I spat. I heard her boots walking slowly towards me. I knew I had to get up. I couldn’t just lay here. I had to fight her. “You were my first crush, you were my hero.” She stopped. And then I felt her boot push into my shoulder, forcibly rolling me onto my back. She stood over me, horrible and beautiful.

I struggled for air as I tried to speak, though I don’t know if it was for myself or for her, “This is my-”. She drove the tip of the cane down through my forehead. My mind split into pieces.

…the other girls in the locker room giggled as I sunk naked to my knees in front of Charlie, half terrified and half aroused. I knew what they all said about me, and now they would know the truth. I closed my eyes and felt a tear drip down my face as I leaned in and gently took her labia between my lips, tongue trailing along her sweet and perfect slit…

…I was lost in the dark, but I knew I was not alone. Some thing was in here with me, I could hear it breathing. And soon I could feel it’s skin on my skin as the tentacles wrapped around me and inside me and through me. They slid between my legs and down my throat and into my ears and began to fill me with her will…

…she enclosed my entire body in one black clawed hand and swept me from the ground up towards that terrifying maw. The heat of her throat and the heavy smell of lust on her breath made my head swim as I struggled and screamed, sliding down her throat…

….We fought on a rooftop: spandex, masks, the whole nine yards. She wouldn’t escape me again! I definitely wouldn’t wind up trussed up in the tatters of my own outfit drooling like a silly slut for the police to find. Not this time! Wait, why was my body getting hot? Oh shit…

…I was so pretty and perfect, so perfect that I couldn’t move. I could never move. Not to speak, not to fight, not to remove the wonderful buzzing inside that made it so hard to think. Charlie had made me so pretty. I was a pretty doll all ready to be packaged. I wanted nothing but to be played with. I was so pretty and perfect…

…I curled in Charlie’s lap as she pet my just where I liked it, eliciting a purr of delight. My paws and tongue found their way down between her legs, and I began to pleasure my beautiful owner in return. The sound of her collar locking around my neck was the most perfect sound I had ever heard…

And more, too many more to count. Nightmares, dreams, fantasies all blended together, but there was one constant: I lost. In every last vision, I always struggled and she was always too strong. My strength failed. I lost. I gasped and writhed on the floor as each defeat pounded into me. My body shuddered as each new horror filled me with unwanted pleasure and sent a climax burning through my brain.

I sniffled, thighs spasming, body oozing. “…my mind.” I gasped weekly. “…my mind. My…”

I felt the cold tip of her cane on my chin, forcing me to look up and meet her gaze. That stunning smile graced her lips and her eyes sparkled. “Not anymore.”

She pressed the toe of her boot between my legs and the now dim light I had struggled to conjure shuddered and parted eagerly before it, exposing me. My thighs flexed and my eyes rolled back as the wetness between my legs pressed against soft leather. She reached down and gently tousled my hair as I humped her foot and tried to hold back tears.

It was so much easier this way. It was always going to end this way. And I knew in that moment, when all was said and done, some sick, dysfunctional part of me wanted it to end this way.

Her fingers tightened in my hair and she began to walk, leaving me no choice but to try to crawl behind her. She led me, dragging forcefully when I was too slow, out from backstage and into the theater. Only instead of the audience that had been there at the start of the show, all of the seats were filled with shadowy figures of women bound in chains.

“Good evening, girls.” She shouted as if opening the show. The sound of her voice was greeted with a writhing mewling from the crowd. “Tonight, it’s time to welcome your new sister into the fold.” She pulled me up onto my knees by my hair, presenting me like a piece of meat. I was crying openly, hair and body slick with sweat, face puffy from tears, vulva puffy from lust. “And this one’s been so pathetically obsessed with me for so very long that she’s going to show us all what a good girl she is and put herself over the edge with her own hands. Isn’t that right?” As she spoke with a mocking sneer she drew the length of her cane across the slick mess between my legs like a bow across a violin.

“Yes!” I screamed. Over and over. Anything she said. Anything she desired. Anything to keep the pleasure flowing and forget everything else. If I just did what she said I could forget the fear and humiliation and loss and just have this pleasure forever.

She pulled me by my hair, putting my face against her thigh so close to the edge of her short skirt that I could smell her and I didn’t even try to hide my mindless, desperate desire. My hands went to work as I nuzzled my face into her thigh: one sliding between my legs, the other kneading my breast as I dripped a sticky pool of humiliation out onto the stage.  Time had no meaning. I could have been playing with myself for hours, hovering on the edge of bliss. In time, once she was satisfied I’d put on a good enough show, she gave me what I craved, and pulled my face into that perfection between her legs. And in that moment, as my pleasure crested and the penumbral crowd murmured and moaned, I realized that I had never had a chance. I came my very soul out and loved every eternity of it.

And the curtain fell.

I opened my eyes in the darkness of the cabinet, sword still sticking from my chest, slick and faintly glowing in time to the helpless thumping of my heart. It thrummed and burned as I hung there pinned. My body was exhausted, my clothes thick and clinging with sweat, my thighs beyond soaked. The sword was pulled out with a sickening sucking leaving an ache inside me that would never go away. No blood came out but there was emptiness where the blade had been.

The cabinet opened and the audience gasped. At first, I thought it was at my dangling corpse. But they looked right through me like I was a ghost. To them the box was empty. I screamed and no one reacted. I tried to struggle free, but I didn’t have the strength. I went lip and sobbed and no one heard me. With a musical sting and a puff of smoke, something that looked like me, appeared at the back of the theater, clothed and whole. The bizarre double smiled sheepishly and gave a cute little bow before heading back to her seat. As she sat down, she looked me right in the eye and gave a little wink. And then the cabinet closed. And then I was rolled away into the dark.

The stage hands eventually helped me down, stripped me from my clothes, and let me clean up a little. I would say that they were compassionate, but I’m not really sure we’re capable of that any more.

Later, I would attach silver cuffs to the arms and legs of a cute blonde. I’d watch the excitement in her eyes, marvel at the feeling of her warm skin, and somewhere lost deep inside I would mourn her. She would look up at me, innocent, nervous, a little tipsy. “Hey, I’m going to be okay, yeah?” she’d ask with a giggle.  And I’d just slightly shake my head “no”.