📜🎩 T H E ☆ M A G I C I A N - Act 62 (Including Pic!)

Content possibilities for the whole story: original content, w/w(?) or overall queerness, fluff, angst, hurt & comfort, asexuality/demisexuality, cryptid (?) pregnancy, nb(?)preg, sexual & kink awakening, stuffing, nausea, gender ambiguity, toxic relationships, partially male-presenting pregnancy, birth, transphobia (mention), dysphoria, depression & suicidal thoughts, parental conflicts, cnc-like intercourse, use of alcohol and other drugs, demons, religions & mythology (diverse), cursing, profanity, belly focus & sounds

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Part II: 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 28½ | 29 | 30 | 30½ | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 41½ | 42 | 43
Part III: 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 |
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Spotify🎵 Mel | Mary | Bastet | Lusje | Lynette 🎵

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T H E  ☆  M A G I C I A N

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Act 62

Mary 

“Melodie!” Mary exclaimed in such relief that it brought tears to her eyes. She ran up to her, but it was immediately clear that something wasn’t right. 

Not at all.

After approaching, the first thing Mary noticed was the way Mel sat in the chair: She was lounging back in an unusual nonchalant fashion, her head tilted away, one of her legs hung languidly, and everything other than elegant, over one of the armrests.

Secondly, Mary noticed the blood on her white blouse. It hadn’t been that obvious at first glance since there was just so much of it that it had seemed like a red shirt to begin with, but the heavy smell of iron pressed Mary into facing the truth.

Mary threw her hands in front of her mouth, and her sense of balance started to fade; she had no idea if it was only a trick of her senses or if she was actually staggering, nor did she care about that.

Then she saw the state of Mel’s clothes in general. They were dirty and ripped to a point where it looked like she had been falling down an actual cliff, literally. She was also missing a shoe, and her hair was dull and ruffled, with one part sticking flat to her temple and brow, covered in a partially slick, partially crusted substance.

Lastly, she noticed the bottle of champagne in her hand that was dangling from the other armrest, hanging there looking almost necrotic if she hadn’t clutched onto the bottle. She must’ve taken it from the complimentary stock of the hotel room.

With panic, Mary looked at Mel’s swollen middle — just to see that it was now perfectly flat, unlike just an hour before. Whatever had been inside was gone. And for some reason, Mary felt like that was a really, really bad thing, despite being labeled as a ‘condition’ by Mel.

In short: Melodie looked absolutely, bloodcurdlingly, horrifyingly bad.

“Hey, doll,” she suddenly said with an unusually deep voice that didn’t fit her in the slightest; not because of the coloring of her tone (which was unusual, but somewhat acceptable), but because it was eerily relaxed compared to her appearance. She didn’t even look up. “Good to see you.”

Mary didn’t answer. She couldn’t move. Her hands were still cramped before her mouth, and the tears didn’t stop welling out of her eyes. She had never been this terrified before.

“I hope it’s okay when I crash here for a night or ten.”

Mary couldn’t comprehend. She couldn’t react.

Slowly, Mel raised the bottle of champagne, weakly lifted her head, and took a big sip. Then, she looked at Mary for the first time. Her eyes were so intense, they were almost glowing in the dark. Despite the terrible state of her body and clothing, she suddenly looked sinisterly dangerous. Like an extinct predator from eons ago; like an unpredictable raptor, only held back by a string of …something Mary had no idea about. 

She had seen this look on Melodie before. Back then, when they were at the cinema in Las Vegas. But it hadn’t been as… severe then.

“I see ya need a moment. Take yer time, babe. You look like a tasty, elegant, thicc snack, by the way. Haven’t emphasized that enough today.”

Mary didn’t care one bit for any of these words right now. She just didn’t want Melodie to bleed out and die right in front of her eyes.

“I call the ambulance,” she eventually croaked weakly, finally able to break the spell of immobility.

“No!” Mel yelled out and bent forward, then groaned and held her stomach. “Ah fuck,” she swore almost comedically unusually. It didn’t sound like she was actually in pain — more like she had noticed that she shouldn’t have moved like that.

There were so many tears in Mary’s eyes that she had trouble seeing. “Mel, you can’t be serious—”

“Babe,” Mel said, and just like before, it sounded so weirdly, unfittingly calm that it sent shivers down Mary’s spine, “I mean — Rosemary. Listen carefully. I can see that ya have trouble understandin’, so I’ll make it very. clear. I don’t need an ambulance. That would be very, very bad. I promise you, I’ll be fine. I just need a bed and somebody to infuse water and food into me occasionally.”

“Mel—” Mary tried to interrupt.

The once perfectly spick-and-span magician held up her hand to signal Mary to stop.

“No. I am very serious. I don’t know how much longer I can keep stayin’ conscious, so I need to be absolutely sure that you won’t call the police, an ambulance, or anyone else. Are we clear?”

“Melodie—” Mary tried again.

“No. Promise me.”

Mary hesitated. Everything, just absolutely everything, spoke against this agreement. Every rational thought screamed at Mary to seek help. But her intuition eventually silenced all of these objections. Deep down, she knew she trusted Melodie. Or at least: she knew that she had to trust her.

She slowly nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

As a reward, Melodie gifted her with the most ominous-looking, but simultaneously very intriguing, crooked smile. Like a lord who was proud of his obedient servant. Or a thief who now knew that they would get away with an invaluable haul. Despite being so battered, Mel emitted a dominance Mary hadn’t witnessed before. It was so painfully casual that it almost became overwhelming.

This didn’t come without effects on Mary; on one hand, she felt a little more relaxed about not calling anyone, because Melodie seemed like she had things confidently under control. But it also evoked two other diametrically opposite reactions within her. One part wanted to submit to her in a more than obedient direction, another one kindled her to fight Melodie in some sort of way — not physically, and not in a negative manner, more like… to put her in her place. To show her that she wasn’t easy prey. To wipe that haughty grin off her face.

What… what was happening to her? This wasn’t like her, nor was it the time for such feelings.

“Good girl. I knew I could count on you. Don’t make me regret it, ‘kay?” Mel spoke in a raspy voice, lifting the bottle to take another sip.

Mary finally moved, came closer, and withdrew the bottle with gentle force. “No alcohol. Let me clean you in the bathroom, tend to your wounds as well as I can, and get you in bed.”

“No can do, missy. I won’t be able to stand up.”

“You will have to. If I’m not allowed to call anyone for professional help, you will have to do as I say.”

Melodie moaned.

“Fine. It’s probably for the best. I might be able to get that body into bed, but nothin’ more. You’ll have to clean me there.”

Mary bit on her lip. This sounded so bad. Hopefully, she wouldn’t regret not calling anyone.

“But,” Mel added thoughtfully and slowly, “Don’t… don’t undress me.”

“No, Mel! Your blouse, and your wounds—”

“I said: Don’t. Undress me.”

Mary fell quiet. The way Mel instructed her didn’t sound emotionally charged; more like there was a factious reason for it that she couldn’t share. 

“Jacket and socks are fine, nuthin’ more. Sorry to make your furniture dirty with all that red shit. Imma take care of it in a couple of days. Don’t worry if I’ll be knocked out for a good while. I promise I will not die, I just need the sleep. And don’t forget: Don’t call anyone. And if anyone calls you, like that hag Morris or anyone else, you don’t know where I am. Understood?”

“Un… understood.”

Mel nodded, seemingly relieved, with cold drops of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Shit, I can barely use my voice anymore. Be a doll and take my shoulder. If we want to get me to bed, we have to do it now.”

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