"Alright, I guess I'm ready."
Daisy's voice came from behind a Japanese style room divider, which had preserved the girl's modesty during her costume change. Still, her clothes springing over the edge one by one had made for an interesting little show, as had the coming in and out of focus of her silhouette through the paper panels.
"Good. Let's have a look at you."
"Promise you won't laugh?"
"I can't promise anything."
"Jerk."
She walked out in the open, a bit unsteady on her pink stiletto sandals, and unusually embarrassed in the matching catsuit that adhered like paint to her skin. With its high collar, long sleeves, and full-length legs, the outfit effectively covered all but the girl's head, hands and feet, yet at the same time left only the most intimate of details to the imagination.
Like any twenty-years-old who watches her figure, Daisy Porcaro had a nice body. Her pouty baby face was cute, too, though maybe not appealing to everyone. That's probably why she wore heavy make-up all the time.
Next to me Daisy's mother, Joyce, let out a whistle. "Not bad, sweetie, not bad at all. I mean, it's every bit as indecent as I thought it would be, but kind of in a good way."
Joyce Porcaro, nee Carpenter, was basically a mature, washed out version of her daughter. Whereas Daisy had dark brown eyes and darker hair, Joyce was a fair blonde with almost invisible eyebrows, and her eyes were a deep blue. She was also slightly shorter and had more curves, in all the right places and some of the wrong ones,
"Yeah, whatever." Daisy shrugged her off and turned to me. "You're not saying anything? What do you think?"
Highlights rippled across her catsuit with every flex of muscle, hypnotically.
"Can't talk. I'm keeping my jaw from dropping to the floor."
"Pfft." The girl rolled her eyes, but I think deep down she appreciated the compliment. She glanced at the illusion prop behind my back, shifting nervously on her feet. "Alright, are we good to roll now or what?"
"Chill out, sweetie. It's just me and your partner in here. No need to be so tense."
Daisy was my latest part-time assistant. We had started working together shortly after winter holidays, she was a college student away from home and needed a paycheck. She helped me design, rehearse, and ultimately perform my magic numbers. Not the pick-a-card type, mind you: I don't mean to diminish the noble art of sleight-of-hand in any way, but what I deal in is glamorous, dramatic, Grand Guignol-esque stage illusions that typically involve blades, cages, shackles, and all sorts of perilous implements, on top of scantily clad women. When they are clad at all, that is. I'm not exactly a mainstream performer... not that I'm complaining.
Daisy's mother had come all the way from their remote hometown for a little family reunion, and had insisted to meet me and see one of those tricks she'd heard so much about. Back then the internet was just moving its first steps, and there were no phones that people could carry around for taking pictures or shooting video. Daisy and I had reviewed our repertoire prior to Joyce's arrival, only to conclude that none of the tricks were family-friendly enough to be carried out in front of her. So I hastily put together an act that did not show so much skin. I was pretty confident with the outcome, though I hadn't had the chance to actually test it out on Daisy. She had a notion, nothing more.
"I'm chill, mom. But if we could just get on with it I'd feel even better."
The girl gave me an eloquent glare that snapped me out of my reverie.
"Ah. Of course. Come over here, let's fix you up."
The device in question consisted of a very light, bare-bone framework on wheels. It could be described as a sort of wall-less cabinet, or maybe a two-tier shelf rack, only the two shelves were actually stocks and the whole thing could hinge open to receive a prisoner, which is exactly what happened as I helped Daisy take position. Her ankles were locked in the bottom stocks, her neck and wrists in the top counterpart.
"So I was right about this thing here", said Joyce. "It does just what I thought it would."
"Yup. It does that, and much more."
"Much more? Hmm, that's intriguing."
Having snapped all the clasps shut, I stepped back and took some time to admire my assistant, standing trapped there in that surrender pose, hands level with her face, feet parted at shoulder width. She flashed me an expectant half smile, wiggling her fingers. Her wavy hair was pinned back, except for a few stray locks that reached down under her chin.
"Comfortable?"
"Well, I've been better. But I've been worse, too."
"You say that now, but wait for it."
I went off to get the next item needed for the performance.
"Why, what happens now?"
"This."
I tried my best to conceal the effort as I came back carrying a whole bunch of swords, all jam-packed within a cylindrical case. Mother and daughter made the same, wide-eyed face.
"Woah! Those are real swords?"
"Glad you asked."
I pulled one out and balanced it in my hand for a moment. Then, with no warning, I banged it hard against one of the four poles that caged Daisy. She gave a yelp, followed by a nervous giggle that mixed with the reverberating ring of the steel rod.
"What do you think, does it sound real enough to you?"
"Sure does."
"You need me to demonstrate its sharpness?"
"I... uh, not really, no."
"Well then. If we are all satisfied, let's get to the actual magical bit."
With that I pointed my sword at Daisy, and slowly, teasingly, ran its tip down her middle. The girl flinched, catching her breath.
"So, where do you want the first one?"
She gave me a long, intense look.
"Surprise me."
That brought a grin to my face. I walked around the device, aiming for the middle point between the girl's shoulder blades.
"Wait," said Joyce, "you're gonna do it just like that? Without any cover?"
"Why would I cover her?"
I placed a hand on Daisy's shoulder. With the other, I pushed the sword into her back. Daisy moaned, throwing her head backwards what little she could. From my standpoint I couldn't see the blade come out the other side, but the look on Joyce's face more than made up for it. The woman gasped loud and literally jumped back in surprise, a hand on her chest. Then she just stood staring as she recovered from the shock, gaping, breathing hard.
Slowly, she shook her head.
"Wow. Damn. You, like, totally got me. Had no idea you guys were so good."
She walked up to her daughter, and gingerly tugged at the blade protruding from the girl's breastbone.
"How in hell..."
"You better watch your fingers," I warned her. "It's pretty sharp."
Joyce dropped her hand and just looked at the blade for a while, then she leaned forward to peek around the corner. For her benefit, now that she had a good sideways view of Daisy, I made a show of pulling the sword back a few inches and then pushing it forward again.
"Oww, holy shit!" the woman cringed. "What the... How do you do this?"
I decided it was fun so I did it again, over and over, gaining momentum at each stroke. As her body subtly rocked along with the blade's motion, Daisy gave out more moans, gasps and hisses, her hands clenched into fists, until a shadow of concern crossed her mother's face.
"Hey, sweetie? Is... is everything okay?"
I stopped what I was doing and let go of the hilt, leaving the sword stuck through my assistant's thorax. Daisy pulled herself together, and smiled reassuringly at Joyce.
"Yes mom, I'm just fine. See?"
She punctuated her words by giving jazz hands, and followed that with a full-body wriggle, though a little hesitant.
"What's with those sounds you've been making?"
"Uh, nothing. Just... you know, acting."
"Hmm." Joyce nodded, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Alright then, if that's so. You had me worried for a second."
I had a notion about the real nature of those sounds, having been in the business for a while, but I certainly knew better than to voice my thoughts. So I just picked up another sword.
"Watch it. Here comes number two."
This time I did it front-side, at the navel to be exact. Daisy tried her best to keep her composure as the weapon plunged into her stomach, yet she couldn't suppress a grunt. Once again Joyce cringed at the sight, but now there was a twinkle of entertainment in her eyes. She pressed her hands together before her face, chuckling.
"Holy shit, this... this is crazy. I can't can't get over what I'm seeing. I just can't."
"I know, right? And we're just getting started. I've got eighteen more of these babies here, just waiting to be used."
The woman gave me an alarmed look.
"What - are you kidding? That's a total of twenty."
"Well, it's not called the Human Pincushion for nothing."
Joyce looked at her daughter, who smirked in return. "He's got a point there, doesn't he?"
I already had the next two swords ready in my hands. "But I do agree that twenty is a lot," I said, "In fact, I think I could use some help. Normally I'd call for a volunteer from the audience, but seeing as we've got a one-woman audience here, the choice is trivial."
Holding it in reverse, I offered a sword to Joyce.
She looked at it, confused.
"Huh?"
I gave her an encouraging smile. "Come on, take it."
Joyce didn't make any move to take it.
"You want me to hold this for you?"
"Not exactly. I want you to give this a go. Do what I did."
She snorted and stepped back, palms up. "What? Oh, no, no, I don't think so."
I insisted. The back-and-forth dragged on, much to Daisy's amusement, till I had to literally put the weapon in Joyce's hand.
"Listen," she said, "I really can't do this."
"Why?"
"I... I wouldn't even know where to start."
"It's not like it's rocket science. Just pick a spot and go for it."
"That can't be all there is to it. What's the trick?"
"You don't need to know the trick."
"But I'll harm her."
"Absolutely not."
She snorted again, nervously. Her gaze shifted from me, to the sword, to Daisy.
"A penny for your thoughts."
The girl shrugged, unintentionally jiggling the swords in her chest. "I just wish you made up your mind, before we all grow old and die."
"So you're cool with it? You're not worried?"
"It's an illusion, mom. Nothing to worry about."
Joyce sighed. "Hmm. I guess you're right."
She glanced at me one more time, then walked up to her daughter in tense, unconfident steps, and stood considering Daisy's spandex-clad body for a good while.
"But what if I mess up?" she asked. "If something goes wrong..."
"Nothing can go wrong, mom." Daisy wiggled her torso, invitingly. "Come on, just go ahead and do it. I know you want to."
Joyce fidgeted with her sword. A tentative smile creased her lips.
"All right. Then I... I think I'll pick a spot on the back, if you don't mind."
"Whatever floats your boat."
She moved to the other side of the prop, and raised her weapon, a bit shaky in her grip, to Daisy's right buttock.
The girl gave a giggle. "There, of all places?"
"I'm taking you at your word."
"Yeah, right, but... why there?"
"I just figured I'd steer clear of your vitals."
Daisy rolled her eyes, still giggling.
"So," Joyce pressed the sword's tip into her rear. "You ready?"
"Been ready for a while now."
"Yell if it hurts, okay?"
"You bet."
There was a hiatus. You could have heard a pin drop. Then Joyce raised her head and stared at me wide-eyed.
"It's in," she said under her breath.
I gave her a thumbs-up. "Great. Keep going, don't stop."
Mouth agape, unbreathing, the woman complied. Daisy bit her lip, then the blade came out ripping through her outfit at the joint between thigh and crotch.
"There you go," I said with a big cheering smile. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Joyce didn't reply. She was panting, gazing transfixed at her own handiwork. Moving as if in slow motion, she went down on one knee and started to feel around with her hands, grasping the hilt of the sword, its tip on the other side, and, quite unabashedly, the body part in between.
"Right," said Daisy. "Good job, mom. Now get your hands off my ass, will you?"
Her mother stood up and looked her straight in the eye, hands on hips. "How does it feel? Tell me."
Daisy held her gaze. "Well, it feels better when a guy does it."
"You know what I'm talking about."
My assistant looked at me over her mother's shoulder. I raised a brow. She took the hint.
"It's nothing. I feel nothing, really. 'Cause... it's just a trick. Remember?"
Joyce shook her head in resignation. "Jesus freaking Christ." She bent over, sliding her hands down to her knees. "Aww, fuck."
"Everything okay?" I asked, approaching her.
"Fuck," she repeated, not addressing anyone in particular. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
I thought she was about to freak out, but then she turned sharply towards me and her eyes were ablaze with wild delight. "This is amazing!" she nearly shouted. "Fuck! This is, like, the most mind-blowing shit ever!"
"Mom, please," said Daisy. "You sound like a truck driver."
"Aww, shut up," retorted Joyce. "You shouldn't be talking. You just got skewered like a damn pig, and three times at that."
"Mom!"
As they talked, I moved behind Daisy and pushed my sword through her other buttock. "Four times," I announced then.
Joyce looked feverishly excited. "Say, can I do it again?" she asked.
"Of course. That's pretty much the idea. There are sixteen swords left, so you get to use another eight."
"Sweet." She clapped her hands, grinning.
"Looks like you're starting to enjoy it."
"Well, told you. It's the most amazing experience, once you get the worries out of it."
For the next few minutes Joyce and I took turns stabbing Daisy from all angles. I'm afraid I don't recall exactly where each sword went... Most ended up in her trunk. Two went each through an arm, and another two pinned her thighs and calves together. At some point Joyce squeezed one of the girl's breasts and thrust her blade all the way in, right through the bulging nipple. I wanted - badly - to take advantage of the situation and do the same to the other breast, but in the end I dared not touch it. I simply penetrated it with my sword.
The last stab was Joyce's. She took the time to savor the moment as she examined the spiky mess that was her daughter's body, looking for the best spot. There wasn't much real estate left.
The woman reached out her free hand and stroked Daisy's cheek. "What if I just go for this pretty little head of yours?"
Now, that was unexpected. Joyce was certainly growing confident - maybe even a bit too much. I myself couldn't say for sure if it was okay to do what she planned on doing. You see, what I do looks like stage magic, all right, but I'm not exactly an illusionist in the traditional sense. It's a long story, though, and I will get to it some other time.
I was saying, what Joyce intended to do wasn't what I had in mind for the rest of the act, so I answered before Daisy got a chance to open her mouth.
"I wouldn't do that."
Joyce turned towards me, a brow raised. "Why? Is it unsafe?"
I wasn't willing to concede that.
"It's... not something the volunteer's supposed to do."
"Hmm. I see."
"If that's the case," Daisy interjected, "we'd better put a clear box or something around my head, when we hit the stage. Don't you agree?"
"Yup. Noted."
The girl looked at her mother. "It's okay, mom. Go ahead and do it. I love the idea."
Damn. It seemed a change of plans was in order after all.
With a smirk of anticipation, Joyce raised her sword. Daisy closed her eyes, unperturbed. Then the blade entered her throat, piercing her neck through and through.
My assistant opened her eyes to find that Joyce, standing on tiptoe, was planting a kiss on her forehead.
"Second thoughts?"
The woman shrugged her shoulders with a smile. "Thanks for offering, sweetie, but... you know me: I play by the rules."
"But-"
"Maybe next time?"
Daisy gave out a sigh, and smiled back. "Next time, absolutely."
I applauded, to which both women looked at me as if they were surprised I was still there.
"Well done," I said. "Cool finish, really. I wish my helpers were always as good as that."
"It's been good fun," said Joyce. "I hope I didn't overdo it."
"Of course not. We had fun too, Daisy and I." I reached out for one of Daisy's hands and brushed my finger across hers. "Am I right? How's my lovely assistant doing?"
"Fine, thanks."
"Did it hurt at any point?"
"Nope, not at all. I'm just a little tired, what with being stuck in this thing and having to carry all these swords on me. In me. Whatever. They are quite heavy, you know."
"I'm sorry, I hadn't considered this. But worry not, you're about to get some relief."
"Time to take them out, right?"
"Sort of. Just let me put the finishing touches first."
I pulled out two more things I needed for the trick: a pair of identical rectangular blades, long and narrow, with a handle on the short side. I lined one up with the upper stocks, which had a slit on the side, specifically for the purpose of accommodating the blade. I slid it in, all the way, slicing through Daisy's wrists and neck. My assistant gasped lightly, but didn't move a muscle. Her arms stood up.
As for Joyce, by this time she had grown so unfazed that she didn't even say anything, she just took it in with an amused look upon her face. I handed the other blade over to her, and she knelt down and drove it into the lower stocks, pounding on the handle with her palm so as to overcome the resistance of Daisy's ankles.
"You promised me relief," the girl protested, "but all you've done is put even more blades in me."
"I know," I said. "My apologies. I only did it so that, now, I could finally keep my word."
I picked up the barrel that had contained the swords, now empty, and flung it at Daisy. She yelped. The barrel crashed into her trunk and tore it off the frame, swords and all, then hit the ground and rolled off, while the swords scattered in its trail with loud clangs.
"Woah," went Joyce, "now that's a twist!"
"Why? W-what happened just now?" asked Daisy.
The girl's body was nowhere to be seen. Her head, hands and feet still protruded from the stocks, but in between was nothing but thin air. Her outfit lay on the floor, empty and in shreds, mostly entwined with the swords like as many pink streamers.
"You really don't know?" said Joyce. "Sweetie, your body... your body is gone."
"Huh?"
"Yup," I confirmed, "that's right." I swept my hands through the empty space that had been occupied by my assistant's chest. "Gone. Completely vanished."
"Hey, that's true," said Daisy. "I can't seem to move my arms. Or my legs. Or anything else. Geez, it's like anesthetic."
Joyce stooped to examine the holes in the bottom stocks, through which two portions of the blade she had inserted were now visible. She looked up to find a similar sight on the underside of the other stocks, and snorted. "Just when I thought I'd seen it all."
"So, Daisy," I said, "you don't feel much burdened now, do you?"
The girl gave me a wry smile. "More like I don't feel much, full stop. But thank you."
"You can still feel this, I hope?" I lightly prodded her fingers, which wiggled in reply.
"Of course," she said.
"You know, the audience must be convinced that these are your real hands."
"They are."
"Mm-hmm. Just like those are your real feet."
I went down on one knee to take off her sandals, ignoring her "Oh, come on," and tossed them behind my back. Her feet were still arched down, but now her toes just barely brushed the ground. I ran a finger down her sole and she burst out laughing, her hands and feet all twitching and swatting to no avail. "Stop, stop!" she pleaded between spasms, while her mother and I exchanged an amused glance. I invited Joyce to join in with a nod of my head, but she declined. I stood up then, satisfied, allowing Daisy to catch her breath while I sent her mother to retrieve her clothes from the room divider.
"What do you need these for?" asked the woman.
"You'll see," I said, and pointed at the lower stocks. "Drop them all here, please."
Joyce obliged, a bit unceremoniously. The small heap of clothes comprised white sneakers, a floral blouse, a red cardigan, dark blue jeans, and was topped by the girl's underwear: a camisole, bra, panties and socks, all plain white cotton.
I thanked Joyce, picked up the socks and slipped one on either of Daisy's hands.
"Abracadabra," I said, "make it go away."
The socks collapsed. I removed them, to show that now the girl's hands, too, were gone.
"Look mom," she said playfully, "no hands!"
"Ha-ha. Funny."
While Daisy stuck her tongue out at her mother, I repeated the process with her feet.
"Abracadabra, make it go away!"
The girl, now just a head, rolled her eyes. "Do you have to say that?"
"Why, you don't like it?"
"It's... it's kinda silly."
I shrugged, and switched her socks for her camisole. "It's the lack of music, I guess. Makes me feel like I should say something. "
"I like it," said Joyce as I draped the camisole over Daisy's head, completely concealing it from view.
"Glad you do. Would you do the honors, then?"
The woman smirked.
"Abracadabra, make it go away!"
The camisole sagged down flat on the stocks, its content vanished. I picked it up and turned it from side to side, to show there was nothing out of the ordinary about it.
Joyce clapped and cheered. "Bravo!" she exclaimed, to which I bowed, thanking her. Then I folded the camisole and put it back on the pile of clothes.
"So," said the woman, running a hand through her hair, "now it's just the two of us, it seems."
"Correct."
She sauntered up beside me. "What shall we do, then?"
"Well," I replied, "I'm gonna have to ask for your help one last time. The finale's pretty clever, if I do say so myself, but it takes two people to set up."
"Ah. Ermm... Okay, sure."
We went off to the room divider, which had a dual purpose: its parts, once disassembled, could be mounted on the framework that had held Daisy captive, thus turning it into a sort of cabinet with paper walls. With Joyce's help, all was done in a matter of minutes.
It wasn't one second since we were done installing the front panel that something burst out of it, ripping the paper apart: a stretched-out leg, clad in jeans and shod in a white sneaker. It swept down to rest its foot on the ground, then the other leg came out, together with the rest of a smiling Daisy, fully dressed in her original clothes.
And that was my first time ever performing the Human Pincushion, which has since become a staple of my stage appearances.