Julie's Date

by Vaughan

----------

For those who have not read the first eleven episodes of my
story (where have you been?):

My name is Julie. I am a 5'7" blond, with a good figure, aged 22.
I have just become an assistant the magician James. James has
another assistant, Mary, a 5'7" black girl, who is a bit older
than me. Mary and me have been victim to several of James' illusions
and enjoyed them, after the initial shock of some of the predicaments.

My new job seemed to be going well. I have been in the job for two
weeks and we finally did our first show with me and Mary together.

----------

The phone rang. I had just started the chore of the laundry, so wasn't
very speedy at answering it. As I approached, the answering machine
squealed into life. I waited while the out-going message announced that
I was out or busy and asked the caller to leave a message after the tone.

"Umm ... I don't like talking to these things," started a hesitant male voice.

After a few more words about hoping to speak to me, I recognize the
phone-distorted voice of Scott. Scott was one of the guys who had helped,
I think not entirely happily, with James' machinations on the Friday night.
I remembered that I had given him my 'phone number.

I leapt at the 'phone. "Hello," I said.

Scott stuttered to a halt, then said, "Is that a real person I heard?"

"Yes, it's me, Scott."

"Well, you remember my name. Now I've got to remember yours, Julie," he
quipped, "I bet you can't guess why I rang?"

I made pondering noises, "Let me think," I teased. "If I'm unlucky you
want your belt back, or... You might want to apologize for sawing me in
two on Friday night, almost before we had been introduced, or ... If I'm
really lucky you rang to invite me out to lunch."

There was a stunned silence at the end of the line, neither of us could
quite believe how forward I had been. "Well, I really would like my belt
back, and I'm sorry for sawing you in half, but what better way to meet a
magician's assistant and we will both need lunch, how about we eat it
together?" His tones indicated that he could hardly believe his luck.

"OK, I'll pick you up where we dropped you off, in about an hour." I responded.

He made a sound that sounded like assent, so I slammed down the hand-set down
and rushed into the bedroom to find something to wear.

----------

I arrived to find Scott waiting. I was glad I had not dressed up too much,
because he was in a white shirt and jeans. I had chosen a white blouse and
a cream, just below knee-length skirt. He complimented me and said he was
glad I was not a car this time.

I thanked him and asked, "Where had you in mind to eat?"

He gave me directions to a small restaurant, where we had steak and salad.

Over lunch I learnt that Scott was a magic fan of long standing and much
respected by the magic fans on the internet for his knowledge and creativity.
He learnt about me and my, so far, short career as a magician's assistant.
One of his fantasies was to saw a woman in half. I commented that he had
achieved that. I offered to show him where we worked, and he nearly pulled
my arm off thanking me.

After coffee, he paid the check and we set off for James' warehouse workshop.
I got out the key and let us in through the office.

"So, Scott what kind of magic do you like best?" I asked.

He blushed and replied, "I know you will think this rather sexist, but I really
ike the illusions where the female assistant gets divided into parts."

"Oh, divisions? Nothing wrong with that. I quite enjoy being divided, but I
enjoy being restored better, it's such a buzz. I may be addicted to it. Let's
go and find some thing to try."

He followed me out of the office and stopped in the door stunned by the amount
of magical props piled in the warehouse. "Wow, You must have just about every
illusion I've ever seen here," Scott whispered.

"Don't just stand their gawping, choose something to try out." I insisted.

After a pause, he began to look round like a kid in a candy store. Finally,
he stood in front of a large frame with a huge circular buzz saw. "Can we
try that?" he asked.

"Fine. Help me get it to where we can do it properly."

We dragged the huge item of equipment through the narrow gaps to the practice
area. Scott was impressed by the huge mirrors that surrounded the area of white
painted concrete floor. I told him to wait there and I went to turn the lights
on. When I returned he had already connected the plug to the socket in the floor
behind one of the mirrors. He waited for me to appear round the mirror and then
with a splash of sparks he switched on the motor and the circular saw blade
started to turn. In about 10 seconds it was making the breathy whistle of all
buzz saws. Scott switched it off and smiled at me.

"That works, wouldn't you say?" he said. "Oh, I thought you were bringing the
bit of wood."

"What bit of wood," I asked in all innocence.

"There is a slot in this table to accept a piece of wood, which goes under you
to prove that the saw went right through you, and it is also useful for tapping
the blade to show that it is real."

"I go and find something," I said and rushed off.

I came back with a few bits of wood and we soon discovered one that would fit in
the slot. Scott took it and tapped the three foot diameter blade, which rang. He
then stroked the end of the wood along the edge of the blade where it ticked
between the small triangular teeth. "That saw blade seems to be about as genuine
as possible," he said, sliding the wood into the slot in the table.

"How do you want me, face up or face down?" I asked, untucking my blouse and
knotting the ends above my belly button.

"Umm ...," he said, then thought for a moment. He came to a decision. "I think you
ought to be on your front so that I can watch you face as you go under the saw."

I moved round to the back of the frame and perched on the table then swinging my
legs up I sat on it. A small amount of squirming later I was lying on my front on
the table. A quick check showed that my buttocks were lined up with the blade which
would ruin my skirt and panties, so I shuffled down the table until my waist was
level with the blade. Unfortunately, all this fidgeting had pushed my skirt immodestly
high and I was still a bit worried about it get sucked into the whirling blade and
being shredded, so I asked Scott to adjust it for me. He blushed, but he came round
and adjusted my skirt so that it properly covered my thighs. He then positioned my
calves so that my knees were at right angles and my ankles crossed. He told me this
was the traditional position. On his way back round he pinched my left buttock.

"What was that for?" I squealed.

"I wanted to check that it was you all the way down. I don't want you to be hiding
that gorgeous waist of yours," Scott responded.

I threw him a scowl, followed immediately by a smile. He looked uncertain of how to
take my reaction, so I said, "Your supposed to check my separated body parts are
real, once they are separated, I'm quite obviously all me at the moment."

He seemed cheered by my reaction, or perhaps the prospect of verifying that my parted
parts were still me caused the smile.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes! Why? aren't you?"

He moved round in front of me with his hands on the controls. "You're sure you're
ready?" he double-checked.

I nodded, he threw the switch and the whine, then whistle of the saw-blade was the
only sound audible.

When the blade was up to speed, he motioned towards the handle that when turned
would drag me and the table sideways under the humming blade.

"Get on with it!" I said, "Waiting for things to happen is always the worst part."

He wound the handle and almost immediately the blade was screaming as it began to
divide the end of the wood that passed under me. Scott looked nervously at me. I
smiled again to encourage him. He gave the handle another turn and I felt the saw
bite into my flesh; it stung like a nettle, but not for as long. The fact that I
winced, caused him to stop turning the handle. At the deepest the saw blade was an
inch into my back. The way the teeth of the buzz saw stroked was the most ticklish
sensation I have ever felt.

"Don't stop now," I screamed at him over the squeal of the saw, "because when you
stop, it tickles like hell, and I don't want to laugh; unless you really want to
see a jagged edge, keep it going steady."

Scott seem caught between the twin horrors of carrying on with moving me under
the whirling blade and possibility that I might end up with a messy wound. After
a few seconds the fact I was telling him to get on with sawing through me won out
and he began to turn the handle again.

The tickle of the rapidly moving teeth quickly went back to being a tingle. The
only incident, during the rest of my journey under the saw, occurred when the blade
first reached my back-bone, the tone of the squeal from the circular saw blade
changed as if it was working harder.

Scott kept moving his eyes between my face and the wide gash opening up in my back.
The noise of the blade splitting the wood that had been laid into the slot in the
table under me made talking impossible, so I kept smiling, except for the moment
when I winced because a splinter from the wood had been picked up by the saw and
driven into me.

It took about thirty seconds to a minute for the table to reach its end stop.
Scott switched off the saw and the whine of the rotating blade gradually
lowered in tone until the saw stopped.

Scott stood there nervously as the silence extended uncomfortably.

After a minute I was afraid that Scott had gone into shock. To break the
tension, I said, "Aren't you going to come and check your handy work? Or
do I have to get up and take you home?"

Scott mentally shook himself and stepped round the front of the buzz saw to
look at the gap that had opened up in my waist. My torso and legs were
separated by a half inch gap and skin covered the inner surfaces of the gap.
Scott leant over and looked into the space and saw the divided piece of wood
that had been under me. I twisted a bit to get a view of the cut, but without
the normal balance from my legs, I applied too much force and would have toppled
off the table if Scott had not been there to catch me. Scott seemed to go into
shock again. He was holding my upper body with his arms under my shoulders and
waist. My body from my hips down still lay face down on the sawing table.

With more care this time, I swung my arms about his neck and kissed him. I thought
he would either faint dead away or be completely revived.

His reaction was positive, if uncertain. "What did you do that for?" he asked.

"Well I got bored with waiting for something to happen. And it's not like we
haven't kissed before. Get on and do something."

What he did was not really at all that surprising. He lifted my torso slightly
and placed me upright on the sawing table. Once he was happy that I was
comfortable, he turned his attention to my legs. He turned them over and
positioned them so that they sat of the edge of the table. This shuffling
about had caused my skirt to ride up again, if anything higher than before.
Scott commented how modest my plain white cotton panties were. I replied that
he should not be looking and asked him to adjust my skirt again.

"I've got a more interesting idea, I'll lift up your legs and you adjust your
skirt," he suggested.

I was slightly intrigued and asked him to go ahead. He knelt down and hugged my
legs just above the shins and told me to stand up. I straightened my knees and
hips. The left side of the skirt fell into place, but the right seemed to get
caught up, exposing a lot of thigh and my right buttock. I was glad I had worn
plain cotton panties, rather than anything more provocative, because I would
have been even more embarrassed. Scott shuffled sideways until he was holding
my standing legs directly in front of me. I reached forward and made the required
adjustment. Scott  moved a couple of steps sideways and told me to sit down. When
I was sat he jumped up onto the sawing table between my two halves.

"I've always wanted to do this," Scott remarked, placing a hand on my thigh. I
gave him a thump in his other arm to remind him not to take liberties. He
apologized.

"Before temptation gets the better of you I think it's time to put me back
together."

He seemed a bit disappointed, but dutifully asked how to do that.

"Just put the cut surfaces together."

"You mean all I have to do is put your waist back together? Don't I have
to line you up or something?" he enquired.

"Simple as that! And as to lining up; 'If it don't line up, it don't join up'"

"OK, but I can't do it with your bottom half sitting there."

"That's alright," I said and shuffled my legs forward until the overbalanced
on the table's edge. I landed on my feet, but I would have toppled if Scott
had not steadied my with a hand on each hip. "Your hands seem to be everywhere,"
I commented in a playful tone.

"Sorry, but I thought it was better than letting you fall over. Besides, your
skirt is crooked again," he said defensively, but with a twinkle in his eye.
He straightened my skirt.

"Stop feeling up my buttocks, Scott. It's time to put me together."

"Umm, OK, but it seems such a waste."

"But, I haven't got a waist until you put me together," I quipped.

He held me under my arms and lifted. I put my hands round his neck. With care
he gently lowered my upper half onto my hips. I felt the pleasure of restoration
surge through me and my knees sagged. The sudden addition of the weight of my
legs caused us to collapse in a heap. I took us a while to dis-entangle ourselves.

Once we were over the giggles and had calmed down, we got up and returned the buzz saw
contraption to its former place.

"What shall we do next?" I asked.

"How should I know? You know what all this stuff does," Scott replied.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I only know the stuff I've done."

"What does that do, Julie?" asked Scott, as he indicated a person-shaped
cabinet the other side of the aisle.

"I don't know, 'cause I've never done that one. Why don't we give it a go?"

"Are you sure? Didn't James say something about experimenting with magic you
don't know?" he cautioned.

"It's alright if there is someone else about," I stated, although it crossed
my mind to wonder how much use Scott would be if the magic went wrong, but he
did seem to know the proper way to do magic, which I hoped was good enough.

"If you say it's alright, who am I to disagree?"

We went over to the cabinet and dragged it to the practice area. We also
brought the box that was on the wheeled base of the illusion. Pinned to the
lid of the box was a sheet of paper that said it was the instructions for
the illusion.

Scott unpinned the paper and began to read. "Open the body case, position
the assistant and close the case." A pause. "How does it open? any ideas,
Julie?"

While he had been reading, I had been examining the cabinet. It was shaped
like a person, except that head, hands and feet were missing. I was supported
above the low platform on a thick pole that seemed to form an extension of the
devices backbone. I found a couple of clips at the ankles and was very surprised
(I think I squealed) when the entire front of the thing swung forward and up.
The front stopped and swayed gently when it reached horizontal.

Scott came over and measured himself against the case. "I looks like I'll be to
big to fit," he commented.

"It always seems that it's my turn." I stepped up to the cabinet and put my head
through the neck hole. I took up the stance that was needed to fit in the thing
and tried to shuffle backwards into the back part of it. As I edged back my skirt
began to be in the way. I ducked back out of the cabinet and retreated behind a mirror.

"What's up?" called Scott.

"I need to be more appropriately dressed, this skirt has been in the way all afternoon,"
I yelled back. I slipped off my skirt and untied the knotted corners of my blouse and
did up all the buttons to improve the modesty.

As I returned, dumping my skirt by the mirror, Scott said, "Wow, you've got great legs."

"Why didn't you say that earlier?" I asked provocatively.

He blushed and said, "Ermm, It did not seem right, especially as they weren't attached
when I noticed."

I put on a scowl and then smiled. Scott looked confused, so I remarked, "And what
about the rest of me?"

"Oh, I like you... a lot, but sometimes I feel if I say the wrong thing you'll not
want to know me anymore."

"Well, don't be quite so shy, I don't bite." I added mischievously, "Unless you
want me to."

I fitted myself into the body shaped cabinet and Scott closed the front down so
that only my feet, hands and head were visible. I could now relax, because I fitted
snugly inside the cabinet and it supported me.

Scott continued to read the instructions, "Take all the swords and daggers from the
box and impale the cabinet's occupant." He opened the box and let out a low whistle.
"There must be dozens of things in here." The first things that came out were a dozen
daggers of various lengths and shapes, but in pairs. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Well, it seems quite obvious to me. They are in pairs, because limbs come in pairs," I
observed. He seemed completely taken aback. "What are you waiting for? You know it's magic
and I don't mind. In fact I quite enjoy it."

He looked very doubtful, but picked a pair of long slim blades and held them against
the cabinet at the upper biceps. He paused, quite obviously in the hope I would tell
him to stop, but I did not. With a quick thrust he pushed both blades in. I felt the
prick as they entered my flesh, but this was quickly replaced by a gentle and quite
sensual rubbing and tickling.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Good," I replied slightly dreamily.

He took me at my word and began stick the daggers in with a will. The next pair were
spikes which he pushed through my wrists, followed closely by a pair of broad-bladed
daggers through my elbows.

"What about my legs?"

"I getting to them," he replied.

"OK, I didn't want you to ignore them having admired them."

His first pair looked like kitchen knives and pricked as they passed through my shins.
The pair he inserted through my knees where shaped like miniature scimitars. The last
pair of daggers he pushed into me mid-thigh from behind. I could feel every wiggle of
these two wiggly daggers.

Scott returned to the box and took out six more swords. There were two thin ones,
like fencing epees; a wide short one, two longer wiggly sword and a wicked looking
scimitar. He considered them and then took up the short wide one and with a bit of
effort thrust it through the base of my neck.

"I see what you are trying to do, but I think my head is still firmly attached." He
reached forward carefully and cupped my head in his hands and tried to lift, but my
head stayed put, much to my relief.

For a moment he pondered his next move. He took up the two epees and stabbed them
through my shoulders. As they pierced me where I was already getting warm feelings
from the sword in between I did not even feel the prick as the entered.

The wiggly swords he inserted crosswise into my hips, so that the handle stuck out
in front of my hands and the tip of the other was behind. This left the scimitar
which he shoved through just below my ribs. As he pushed the curved blade through
it touched the short sword through the base of my neck and before Scott noticed the
handle of the scimitar was resting on the outside of the cabinet at just below my
navel. The pain as the scimitar sliced down my belly was exquisite, because the
pain of the opening of the cut was balanced by the pleasure of the closing of the
cut behind the blade.

"I think it's about time you showed me what you've done," I suggested.

Gently, so as not to move me too much on the penetrating blades, he moved and
rotated the cabinet. I could see that each sword and dagger went straight through
me and emerged bloodlessly the other side.

"What's next?" I asked.

"I'll see," he said with a mischievous smile. He read the rest of the instruction
sheet silently. I was a smile creep over his face.

"I hope you haven't got anything nasty up your sleeve," I remarked.

"No, not really... just my arms," he quipped.

"Well, whatever it is, get on with it!"

"OK!" he said, going back the box with renewed enthusiasm. As the box was on the
back of the platform I could not see what Scott was doing. After some preparation,
which I could not see even via the mirrors, Scott stood up. "Sorry about the delay,
but this stuff is a bit fiddly and I want to get it right." Standing behind me I
saw him position something long and thin at the base of my neck, just above the broad
blade. I did not feel much as a swift movement pushed it in place. The end that came
out was quite narrow and tapered. The next one went in through my right shoulder blade
and out through my right breast, followed by its mate on the left. Knowing I had some
limited view he flourished what seemed the final item which looked like a needle. He
positioned it in the small of my back, just above my buttocks and pointed downwards.
He pushed and the slim sliver of steel penetrated, emerging a couple of inches below my
navel, somehow missing the crossed sword through my hips. Scott came round to the front.
"Now for the next bit." He took hold of the needles through my chest and pulled. To my
amazement, they came straight through trailing a red ribbon each. He then pulled the
upper and lower needles, which also had ribbons attached. After some fuss he had
unthreaded the needles and began pulling the swords and dagger from the cabinet. My
senses were almost overwhelmed by the abundance of pleasant sensations as each implement
was extracted.

When all the hardware had been removed and packed back into the box, Scott bent to
release the catches down by my ankles.

"HEY!! What about the ribbons?" I objected.

"The instructions say that they stay in until you are out of the body-case," he said
and then releases the catches.

I blinked as the front of the cabinet swung up and felt some tugging where the ribbons
emerged from my body. I ducked down to take my head out the neck hole and saw the three
upper ribbons still threaded through the front of the cabinet, the lowest one had pulled
free and dangled between my legs tickling my calves. I pulled the ribbons through and
stepped out and off of the platform. As I stepped out of the cabinet I felt a slight
tugging as I pulled the ribbons though the holes in the back of the cabinet. I took a
look in the mirror and almost screamed. I should have known, but my blouse was a mess
of cuts and holes and through the fabric came the ribbons that penetrated my chest;
lower a ribbon hung below the hem of my blouse, emerging through my panties; and the
top ribbon hung from the bottom of the 'V' made by my open collar.

"I think I've ruin you clothes," said Scott.

"No, don't worry. I should have taken measures, because it happens a lot," I said,
trying to re-assure him and wondering why.

"It didn't happen at the show on Friday," He pointed out.

"True," I conceded, "but it does happen a lot. When we are doing a show we work it
so that it does show; or better still, so it doesn't happen at all."

"Is that why you had bare mid-riffs for that double sawing?"

"Well, yes."

After a short silence, he shyly asked, "Do those ribbons hurt or tickle or something?"

"They only tickle where the loose ends touch me, otherwise I can hardly feel them."
I idly gave one of the ribbons a pull. To my surprise it came and a very pleasant
tingling sensation shot through me as I drew the ribbon forward. I stopped and tried
pulled it where it came out behind me. The same feelings again surged the length of
the ribbon.

Scott looked concerned. "Are you OK?" he asked.

"Yes, moving the ribbon felt great," I panted, as I pulled the ribbon from behind
until there was only a couple of inches showing outside my blouse, then I pulled
the other chest ribbon back  to match it. "Would you hold the ends?" I asked. He
looked doubtful, but complied. I looked him in the eye (he seemed nervous) and took
three quick steps backwards. The wondrous sensations were beyond description; for a
moment my vision blurred and then I felt the end of the ribbons as they went though
me and exited through my bra and blouse.

Scott rushed forward. "You looked as though you were going to faint again. Are you
sure that this magic is good for you."

"Of course, it is," I objected, "It feels so good, especially when I am doing it."

"But so do drugs."

"This isn't the same at all, and you know it."

"Well, what about the other ribbons. This top one comes straight out of flesh," he
observed.

I went to a mirror and looked at the ribbon and where it came out of the base of my
neck. It looked as if there was a thin slot from which the ribbon emerged, but I
could not get a good look, because pulling the ribbon up or down to get a better
look twinged. Experimentally I tugged the ribbon forward and back; the feeling was
good, not as intense as that of the ribbons that had lately penetrated my chest.

"May I have a look?" enquired Scott. "After all I did put them there," he added.

"OK, but no taking liberties."

He took the ribbon from my hands and pulled back and forth; he examined the entry
wound; he even looked down the back of my collar to observe the ribbon between my
back and the back of my blouse. Once he was satisfied that he had done as much as
he could without being accused of taking liberties or hurting me he grabbed hold
of the ribbon and slowly drew it out. The sensation was neither as intense nor
erotic as before, but it was wonderful. I suspect that the slow and smooth pulling
of the ribbon maximized the feelings.

"What about the ribbon down there?" he asked.

"I'll deal with that. Would you go and get me some water. I feel thirsty all of a
sudden."

He gave me a look that seemed to say that he did not believe me, but he turned and
moved off towards the office.

While he was gone, I used one of the daggers the cut off the ribbon in front and
then as slowly as I dared I pulled the rest out of my back. I nearly fainted again
with the ecstasy.

When I had recovered I tidied the equipment away.

Scott finally returned with a mug of water, apologizing that he could not find a glass.
I accepted the mug and drank it in a single go. A moment later, my skin felt wet, then
I was spraying water from all the places I had been so recently been perforated. I was
soaked and somehow I managed to spray Scott so he had a great wet patch on his shirt.

Immediately, I began to apologize, but he objected, "Your clothes are soaked and shredded
we had better find you some dry clothes."

"OK, I think I can find something, we might find you something dry to wear yourself." I
led the way into the cramped aisles between the magical equipment. I soon located three
wardrobe trunks, but could only open one.

I looked in the trunk. The contents were similar to those I experimented with, but I did
not recognize anything. A quick check of the labels proved uninformative; they were as
cryptic as the ones I had tried on. For myself I select a costume labeled "Flying Angel
Costume" and found a T-shirt labeled "Safe" for Scott. I soon found a screen to change
behind. I changed into my costume, which was full-length white brushed cotton night dress
with a feathered cape attached to it. When I came back Scott have put on the T-shirt,
which was printed to look like a safe and in the middle of the door was a one of those
knobs with the numbers round.

"Check this out, the combination lock even works." He gave the knob a tweak and as the
numbers went round I could hear a soft clicking.

"I wonder what the combination is," I said smiling. I took hold of the knurled knob and
carefully turned until I felt a click, then I began to turn it back anti-clockwise.

"What are you doing?"

"Quiet!" I instructed, "I'm trying to open the lock. And I need to be able to hear it."

"Oh," he said quietly. We were both wondering what would happen if I unlocked the lock.
The second click happened, so I reversed direction and we soon heard a third click. It
took some time to notice what had happened, until I took my fingers off the knob. The
door printed on the T-shirt had come open and as my fingers released the knob, it became
obvious that there was a cavity about six inches deep behind it. Stepping behind Scott
and holding the door shut, I steered him back to practice area. "Where are you taking
me?" he cried.

"Somewhere where you can see what's behind the door. You've just got to see it."

Once in front of a mirror I let go of the door which exposed the steel-lined cavity
where his torso should have been. He was amazed and spluttered a bit. After a short
while to get used to the idea, he held open the door and felt inside with his other
hand. There was a rattle as his hand met something metallic and moved it across the
floor of the safe. He withdrew his hand with a set of keys
labeled, 'trunks'.

On a whim I snatched the keys and bolted for the narrow alleyways of the prop piles.
"You can't catch me!" I shouted, giggling.

Scott just enough time to shut the door and spin the lock before beginning to chase
me. With many jeers and hoots we pursued each other between the discarded equipment.
After two or three minutes, when I was calming down, I noticed some sensations that
told me that something was happening. While I kept on the move to elude Scott, I
tried to analyze the feelings to determine what was happening, because some of the
things that occurred over the past three weeks had been quite debilitating. The
familiarity of the experience worried me for a while, until I had identified it.
It was the same indefinable cocktail of feelings in my shoulders and upper back that
I had experienced in the bar after the show, two days before, when I had for a short
while had four arms. I took a look over my shoulder and flexed my upper limbs and the
upper edge of a pair of wings came into view. I reached back with my hands and touched
my new wings the feathers were downy soft. I pondered how I could put this occurrence
to my advantage. I thought, 'if the label was correct, I should be able to fly'. I
flapped my wings, in the hope I might take off. For some moments I was disappointed,
then I realized that I would need some sort of take off speed. I dodged about until I
could hear Scott blundering about in a corner of the warehouse. I stepped out into the
main aisle of the warehouse and sprinted towards the other end. A third of the way down
I extended my wings and four or five yards later my feet left the ground. I let out an
exultant whoop. In my excitement I kept running and flapping my wings, until I noticed
the wall of the warehouse looming in front of me. I nearly panicked. I was now above
the clutter of gear so I banked right. I nearly collided with the wall, but instead I
half landed on the vertical surface with my feet and pushed off back into the open space
between the roof and the heaps of magical garbage. It took me surprisingly little time
(a couple of minutes) to become confident, if not skilled, flyer. After some
experimentation I could even manage a rather unstable hover. I was enjoying the
freedom of the warehouse roof.

"Hey, Julie! Where are you?" called Scott.

I flew over to where Scott was and said, "I'm up here."

At first he looked around and seemed confused, then he looked up and noticed me. It
took him a few heartbeats to realize I was hovering in mid-air. "What are you doing
up there?"

"Hovering," I replied, then I flew a circle round him in the air.

"Isn't it about time we found out if those keys open a trunk with normal, you know,
non-magical clothes in it?"

I tossed the keys, with I had forgotten I was holding, down to Scott and flew to the
practice area where I could land without running the risk of running into something
and hurting myself. Once I was back on the ground I folded my wings and walked back
to the trunks which Scott had just succeeded in opening. One contained more of the
cryptically labeled costumes, but the other contained various normal looking clothes,
of the types that James had given me and Mary when our own clothes had been ruined.
"These clothes should be safe," I said, dragging out a plain white T-shirt for Scott
and handing it to him.

While I buried my head in the trunk to select some suitable clothes, Scott was poking
around among the props nearby. I had selected a short dress and a bikini, as there was
no underwear in the trunk. When I emerged from the trunk, Scott waved a familiar-looking
box at me and asked what it was for. The contents were a lot of blades and a collection
of straps. I told him to change and meet me back at the practice area. I dived back into
the trunk to find a less revealing bikini set. I took the mauve bikini I had found behind
the screen and changed out of my angel gear into it. I then went on a hunt for something
comfortable to make the effect easier on me. I found a threadbare sofa and dragged it to
the practice area. Scott came to help me with the couch.

"What's the couch for?" Scott asked.

"It makes life more comfortable. The last time I did this I found the floor a bit cold,"

"What is it? I don't recognize it as anything I've ever seen."

"That's because it isn't anything anyone has ever seen. James does not want to show it to
the public. He says that they aren't ready for it. Stop asking questions and bring it here
so I can show it to you!"

I hunted through the box and selected fifteen straps and blade pairs and returned the
remainder to the box. To forestall the question I told Scott that there were two sets
confident that he would not notice the extra straps that fitted the straps I had.

I got myself comfortable on the sofa and then began fitting the straps. I started with
my legs positioning a strap above each ankle, below each knee and at the top of both
thighs. Scott watched with a puzzled expression. I then fitted the straps up my left
arm, finding it a bit awkward to do one-handed, so I invited Scott to fit the straps
up my right arm. He asked how so I demonstrated by undoing the right thigh strap and
re-doing it. He caught on quick and the three straps for my right arm were in place
quickly. With care I applied the next two straps across my belly one just above my
bikini bottoms and the other just below my bikini top. Finally I gave Scott the last
strap and asked him to fit it round my neck, which he did, although I did have to tell
him to tighten it a bit more.

"Well, you've run out of straps," he observed, "What are all the blades for?"

I picked up a pair of the smallest blades. "They are for this," I said and demonstrated
by pushing the pair through my left wrist. I took the other pair of blades the same size
and inserted them through my right wrist.

"Wow, That's amazing," breathed Scott. "I wrote a story in which someone who knows magic
pushes a playing card through his girlfriend's wrist, but I never really believed it was
possible."

I selected the next smallest blades and leaned forward to push them through my ankles.
The straps concealed the edges of the blades. "I bet they never did that."

"No, but it wasn't that kind of story."

I selected four more blade pairs for my legs and asked him if he would like to insert
them. At first he was uncertain, but he soon decided that he would help, with a bit
of hands-on magic. I sat up and carefully inserted the blades through my belly and
adjusting the strap where it did not quite line up.

When Scott finished the blades through my legs and checked that they were properly
in place, he offered to do the ones for my arms. I accepted the offer as putting
these blades in one-handed would be difficult. Once all the rest of the blades were
fitted, I took the last blades and with deliberate slowness inserted them through my
neck via the slit down the length of the strap round my neck.

"That's astounding. I suppose that's all they do."

"Not by a long way." I leaned forward and reached for my ankles, but could not reach
because the blades through my body. I reached down to my left thigh and fiddle with
the catch on the strap. All of a sudden my left knee sagged sideways as the connection
between my hip and my thigh parted. I managed to pick up my detached leg and separated
it at knee and ankle.

Scott looked completely amazed and doing a very good goldfish impression, so I threw my
foot at him to get some reaction. His reaction was to pick up my foot and look at it as
if it was going to explode at any moment. I wiggled the toes. "Is this really your foot?"
he asked.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Well, it definitely feels like a foot and acts like a foot, but shouldn't it be attached
to a leg?"

"Have you forgotten that magic is the stock in trade round here?" I teased. I dis-assembled
my other leg and threw my other foot at him. This time he caught it. I began the task of
removing my hips.

"Well, I didn't really believe it even though I could not think how else it might be done
before. But now I have no choice but believe that what appears to be happening is what's
really happening and it's quite a strain."

I put my bikini-clad hips to one side and to separate my belly from my chest. This took a
bit a contorting to manage.

"When you have finished fiddling with my feet, come over here and help me take the rest
of me apart."

I showed him how the operate the straps' clips and soon both my arms were in three pieces.
The final move was to detach my head from my chest. He balanced my head on the back of
the sofa.

After a short pause, while he totted it up, he said, "You seem to be in sixteen pieces.
How does it feel? And what happens next?"

"Well, It does not feel like anything much, just a bit of tingling. As to what happens
next; you stick me back together."

He looked disappointed. "I thought there might be something more. I'm not sure what,
but you always seem to come out of an illusion different to how you went in."

"I sorry, but in this case I just get put back together. I suppose I could try to
reassemble myself, but I don't think my fingers are strong enough yet." To prove my
point, I strained to lift my hand onto its finger tips. When it was standing there
like 'Thing' from the Addam's Family, I tried to use the fingers to move it forward.
The strain was too much and it collapsed back onto its palm. "See what I mean."

"When you can do it, that will be something to see," commented Scott.

We sat there in embarrassed silence for a couple of minutes; he perched on the end
of the couch near my scattered leg bits and my fragments covering the rest.

"I was just thinking. What this thing needs is a twist, and I've thought of just the
twist it needs," said Scott, his face bright with the anticipation of whatever he had
in mind.

"What?" I demanded.

"I'll show you, if that's OK with you."

"Umm, I'm not really in much of a state to resist am I," I observed. "Well ,alright, go
ahead, but don't do anything I'm going to regret."

"Ok, here goes." I took my right foot and moved the strap round the edge of the blade so
the clip was at a different point round the edge of the blade.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I was thinking about twists and thought about what would happen if I twisted the
straps round a bit." he paused to let that sink in, then added, "I thought about the
possibilities. First, you might not join up again, in which case we just adjust the
straps back. The second idea was that if you joined up crooked, you would look most
peculiar. The third though was that everything would twist back into place."

"OK, get on with it and I hope the third idea is what happens."

Working methodically he moved each strap relative to the body part it was on. "Now for
the moment of truth!" he declared. He picked up my right foot and left calf and started
to fit them together.

"Hey wait!" I exclaimed, "Those parts don't go together you've got the wrong shin for
that foot."

"Sorry, I'll be more carefully." He put down the foot and took up the other one and
aligned the clips which went together with a normal quiet click. With pauses only to
confirm that he had not got my left and right mixed up, Scott calmly re-attached each
of my sixteen parts until I was completely joined together. "Now for the real moment
of truth. Will the blades come out? And what will happen then?"

"Stop building it up and get on with it."

Returning to my left ankle he took a little time finding the edge of the blade and then
pulled. The blade came out of the slot. I expected my foot to fall loose held only by
the clip of the strap or the cut to join up and gradually straighten itself out, but
what happened was a complete surprise. As the blades came out, the clip gave way and
the strap fell off. I watched and waggled my foot to see what happened. Nothing
happened. My foot remained attached just above the ankle but twisted ninety degrees
to the left relative my shin.

"Does that hurt? Because it looks weird."

"It doesn't hurt, as such. It just doesn't feel right, you know that feeling you
get before you have worked out what is wrong."

"Well, if it does not hurt, it can't be all that bad, so I might as well get out
the rest of the blades," said Scott, as he set to the task with a will. As each
set of blades came out the straps also fell off.

It took, maybe, a minute or two to remove all remaining fourteen blade pairs, then
I looked up into the over head mirror to check what my true predicament was. This
was not easy, because my chin was resting on my right shoulder. Immediately, I saw
that my elbows were at completely the wrong angles and so were my knees, but this
was less obvious as my hips were on sideways. I could not work out how far out of
alignment my wrists and ankles were. The last thing I noticed was that where my
belly should have been, I could see my backbone.

"My goodness, what have you done to me?" I screeched, shocked at my unique predicament.

Worried by my reaction, he tried to calm me down. After a while he succeeded in
getting me to talk below a shout, in the process he saved me several times from
falling of the couch as I thrashed about with my unwieldy and entirely unfamiliar
body.

"How are we going you back straight?" he asked.

If I had been able I feel sure I would have knocked him off his feet, but all I
managed was to hit myself in the stomach. This brought it home to me that I was
not in a position to be angry with anyone, except, perhaps, myself for letting
this happen. "You mean to say, You don't know how your going to fix me?" I yelled.

"Well, no. I assumed that since you were letting me do this you knew how to fix it."

"You Assumed!!!" I screamed and then taking a stranglehold on my temper, I added in
a calmer tone, "I suppose I assumed too."

"Um, I seemed like we'd better work out a way to get you normal again. How would
James get you back?"

"Oh, Ermm, he usually, sort of, puts me into another illusion and I come out fixed,
but I've never been this mangled before."

"Err, I reckon we ought to find another illusion to get you fixed. Hadn't we? Any
suggestions? 'cause I don't really know what I'm looking for."

"You seem to know what the props are for. Bring back something that will disappear
me, at least partially."

While Scott was hunting for something to straighten me out, I tried unsuccessfully
to get my distorted limbs to work in some kind of coordinated manner, only acquiring
another bruise or two.

Scott came back with a large black velvet bag. He turned it inside-out to show me that
it was lined with red satin. With quite a bit of effort on both our parts, we managed
to get me into the bag and Scott pulled a draw string so that it was gathered round my
neck.

"I suppose you've found one of James' contraptions that is going to crush the bag and me
in it and then release me so I can crawl out restored," I speculated.

"No."

"No?"

"The bag was all on its own, but it just seemed like the right thing, so I brought it.
And now, I feel the unaccountable urge to make mystic gestures over you."

"Oh well, if you must," I sighed.

As mystical gestures go, they did not seemed particularly strange or eerie, but what
they lacked in style, they made up for in effect. Before my own eyes the bunges that
were my body gradually subsided, until only the lumps of sofa prevented the bag from
lying completely flat. It was lucky my head was balanced or it would have toppled.
What Scott did next took me by surprise. He gathered up the bag and my head and held
in front of him at arms length.

"You've just got to see this. It's so cool," said Scott. With care he turned my round
to face the nearest mirror, so that I see. I was not particularly surprised to see me
disembodied head perched on the crumpled bag, giving the appearance of a velvet cushion,
but it did look good. With further care he took hold of my head, allowing the bag to
descend limply to the floor still hanging from my neck. Then with moves I feel but not
see, he gradually opened the neck of the bag, until it was fully open. With another move,
he dislodged the empty bag from my neck and the mouth slid from my neck and then my
shoulders and so on down, I appeared in a rush from the empty bag, which seemed to remain
empty. Scott stopped supporting my head and I stepped from the bag slumped at my feet,
back in my usual form. I turned round and gave him a kiss and a hug.

I checked the time. It was getting late. "I think we had better be leaving," I said. I
picked up the bag and dropped it on the sofa and then started to drag the sofa. He took
the hint and took the other end of the sofa, which we returned to its place. I switched
off the lights and we left through the office.

On the way home, we stopped at a restaurant for a light snack. I dropped him off where
I had picked him up.

"Maybe, we can do something like this again sometime," suggested Scott as he got out
of my car.

"Probably," I smiled, "unless you would prefer that I mail your shirt to you; we left
it wherever you put it."

"Next Sunday?"

"I don't think so, my mum is coming to visit, but leave me a message and we see what
we can arrange."

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To be continued ...?