WARNING: The following story is fetish smut, made for perverts who enjoy natural body magic/detachment/disassembling people non-lethally. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.

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“So like, what’s the difference between sorceresses and witches?”  Carrie asked, patting her knees with an alternating rhythm as she tried to act casual. "And like, did you get to choose which one you are?"

“Sorcerers and -esses channel magic through their bodies, while witches and wizards use material components as a magical conduit.” Answered Syrennia the One and Only,  barely paying attention as she mixed some cocktails for herself and her new roommate. “And no, you don't choose. I was born a sorceress, some people are born witches, same way most people are born normal."

“I see." Carrie said, avoiding eye contact as Syrennia the One and Only returned to the living room with a pair of frosty metal tumblers. "Sorry about all the questions, I just… this is all new to me.”

"S'all good. I've done plenty of interviews, I can basically autopilot most answers." Syrennia the One and Only answered, flopping down on the couch. "If you need some more, ask away."

"Okay, um, is one better than the other? Witchcraft or Sorcery?" Carrie asked, sliding a coaster under her drink hoping her roommate wouldn't take it passive aggressively.

"Heh, I meant if you needed another drink, go ahead and ask." Syrennia the One and Only explained, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, neither's better, just different. We cast all the same spells, but some are more practical for witches or sorcerers.” She answered, plucking the straw from her drink and chugging a third of it in a single gulp before replacing the straw. “Witchcraft requires the user to make magic brews, trinkets, amulets and other shit, which can then be activated by their maker to perform magic. Sorcerers channel magic through their body, no materials required, but it’s physically strenuous. Rule of thumb is, simple spells that you’d want to do at a moment’s notice are better for sorcerers, since they don’t need any prep time or components, while complicated or high power spells are better for witches since they can prepare conduits at their leisure and use them without feeling like they just ran a marathon.”

“Magic brews?” Carrie asked, looking uneasily at her drink.

Syrennia the One and Only rolled her eyes, grabbed Carrie’s drink, and took a healthy sip. “It’s just a mint julep, honey. I’m not about to magic date-rape my new roomie.”

Carrie’s cheeks burned like coals at being called out, and she quickly took the beverage and downed a mouthful to cool herself off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… it’s just crazy, you know? You hear about magic shit online, see it on the news, but there’s only like… what, ten thousand of you?”

“Five thousand two hundred and twenty three confirmed and registered witchcraft adept, five thousand and eighty one sorcery adept. So ten thousand three hundred and four total magic users.” Syrennia the One and Only stated with a certainty suggesting she checked the numbers regularly.

“Ten thousand in the entire world! Out of seven and a half billion people! I’ve never even seen a magic user in person before today, and now I have one as a roommate!” Carrie said, all but shaking with excitement. “It’s just… I have so many questions!”

“Well, I’ve got an early morning and limited bourbon. So let’s say you get four for tonight.” Syrennia the One and Only said, sipping her drink to the halfway point.

“What’s your birth name?” Carrie asked, not sure why she’d start there of all places.

“Serendipity.” She said, chuckling. “I know, not even a little less pretentious. It’s why I stick to my witch name, at least with that people know I really am kind of a big deal.”

“Okay, so like, how’d you get your witch name? I know there’s like a ceremony or something, but not much beyond that.” Carrie asked.

Syrennia the One and Only took another sip and shrugged. “Honestly, no idea. That ceremony starts with you taking some actual-magic magic-mushrooms, and it ends when you wake up the next day and you just 'know' your new name. Whatever happened in the middle…” She blew a raspberry, nearly causing Carrie to spill her cocktail in laughter. Not that it would’ve been noticed, her shirt a ratty old homemade tie dye and her frumpy sweatpants doubling as her gardening pants. “I’m not entirely convinced that they don’t just pull a ridiculous name out of their butt while they’re laughing at your stupid tripping ass. Like a millennia spanning hazing. Whatever, Syrennia the One and Only suits me just fine. Two more questions.”

“Ok ok, ummm… what’s your favorite spell?” Carrie asked, an obvious question but one that could yield some interesting answers.

“Real-time compensational healing.” She said, reducing her drink to a sip.

Carrie stared blankly at the witch, who trie to maintain poker face but ultimately cracked. Still giggling, Syrennia the One and Only said “Alright, you passed the test. Wanted to see if you’d waste your last question asking me what the hell that is. For your patience, I’ll give you the answer as a freebie and a practical demonstration.” Setting her drink down and walking across the living room, Syrrenia the One and Only dug through a box yet to be unpacked, and while Carrie tried to sneak a peak without looking like she was snooping, she saw nothing past the witch’s broad, brown, and bare shoulders, which Carrie just noticed had a set of small cartoonish stars tattooed onto each of them. Right as she gave up and sank back into her seat, Syrennia the One and Only spun around.

“So, reactionary recovery healing spells do exactly what you’d expect. You get a cut, you use the spell, you get uncut.” Syrennia the One and Only explained, holding up a huge, black, slasher villain machete sporting an antler handle with intricate, interconnected, overlapping webs of symbols carved and painted into it. Carrie’s bony white ass clenched hard enough to bend steel. “By contrast, real-time healing means that you are being healed at the same time that damage is being dealt, while compensational healing means that rather than restoring you to a pre-injured state, your body adapts to survive the injury. Meaning that if I were to cut myself with a blade imbued with the power of real-time compensational healing, this would happen!”

Syrennia the One and Only spun the machete around with a deftness only achievable by performing this party trick many a time. Carrie’s hands clasped over her mouth to silence her screams as the machete sliced through her roommate’s neck like a knife through warm clichés, sending her head and half a neck tumbling off her shoulders. Once again, Syrennia the One and Only showed off just how often she’d done this by puffing out her chest and catching a fistful of her own frizzy black hair as her head bounced off her bust, holding herself up like a gladiator flaunting a kill. Despite the horror of the scene, Syrennia the One and Only’s adorable dimpled smile was absolutely infectious, and soon Carrie was smiling and giggling with her decapitated roommate. “Holy shit!” Carrie said, still muffled by hands which refused to leave her face.

“Yeah! So as you can tell, I’m not dead. My stumps have healed over, and I can still control my body. Real-time compensational healing, it’s so much cooler than regular healing.” She said. Walking over to the knee height coffee table and setting her head down in the center of it, Syrennia the One and Only slid her drink across the table and twisted the now conspicuously long bendy straw down to her lips, ungracefully jabbing herself in the eye with that straw in the process. While she was an amazing witch and experienced amputee, pobody’s nerfect.

“Oh my god, you are so adorable!” Carrie said, barely suppressing the urge to reach out and pinch one of the severed head’s freckled cheeks. “Is it weird to say your head looks super cute off your shoulders?”

“While I don’t mean to sound narcissistic,” Syrennia the One and Only began, “you’re not the first person to say that. The severed look seems to have a 50/50 split of folks fawning or freaking. Glad you’re in camp fawn, would hate to have to look for a new roommate already.” After taking a loud slurping sip, expending her beverage, Syrennia the One and Only spat out her straw and said “Alright, your fourth and final question is at hand! Hit me with it!”

While Carrie wouldn’t call herself a lightweight, all of her friends would. That said, the third of a mint julep the 115lb and 5’4” Carrie had drunk couldn’t alone explain what she next asked the woman she’d only met in person today and exchanged a grand total of 12 emails and one 20 minute phone call. “Have you ever used magic… in bed?”

The jaw of the severed head dropped, nearly rocking her onto her side, while her headless body jolted like it just realized it should be dead and was suddenly struck with rigor mortis. Carrie’s eyes widened, realizing several seconds too late just how inappropriate that was. She opened her mouth to spew a deluge of apologies as her body prepared to prostrate itself in shame, when Syrennia the One and Only indignantly shouted “What kind of sexually repressed Amish farmer do you take me for?! Of course I use magic in bed! Wouldn’t you? Fuck, I can’t even remember the last time I had regular sex! I’m a total magic slut! You know what? That’s such a stupid, obvious, not-even-a-question question, I’m not gonna count it. What’s your REAL fourth question?”

It took a few seconds for Carrie’s brain to register her words, and when she finally accepted them she felt all the blood in her body pool into her cheeks. She didn’t know what answer she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. While Carrie’s mind struggled to figure out where she should go from here, her mouth once again bypassed the brain entirely and took her roommate’s obvious bait. Carrie heard herself asking “Okay, what’s the sluttiest thing you’ve done with magic?”

Syrennia the One and Only beamed with pride and opened her mouth to regale Carrie with a tale of fantastical sexual misadventure, then her lips snapped shut. Her confidence faltered, flustered embarrassment furrowing her high set brows. “Hmmm… one sec.” She said, her body setting the machete down on the end of the coffee table and sliding Carrie’s drink across the table. Placing her other hand on the back of her head to keep it steady, Syrennia the One and Only finished off Carrie's cocktail. She paused, smacked her lips, and paused again. “Hmmm… no, still not drunk enough to tell you that doozy. Sorry.” Syrennia the One and Only said, a bit ashamed she’d wrote such a big check that her separated ass couldn’t cash. “But I'll tell you the sluttiest thing I did in the last... six months? How’s that?”

Carrie grabbed one of the sofa’s two oversized pillows and wrapped all four limbs around it, eyes wide like she about to listen to a slumber party ghost story. She silently nodded.

Syrennia the One and Only's body straightened up in her seat, maintaining respectful distance from her couchmate. “So, about four months ago, there was this big outdoor music festival, basically a high budget rave but legally it was a proper music festival with a clean nose and certainly no drugs, officer.”

Carrie giggled, eyes switching between Syrennia the One and Only’s head and her body as she imagined where this sex story was heading. Syrennia the One and Only was on the plump side, but carried her weight well with long, thick thighs that strained her faded white jeans and a cute belly which she shamelessly showed off with a midriff exposing cami top that barely contained her big bust. Even if she wasn’t one of the rarest and most desirable elites that magic users inherently were, she’d have no trouble finding flings. That said, as Carrie looked between her head and body and caught brief glimpses of the living room decor as her eyes made the trek, she couldn’t help but notice something. “You don’t strike me as an EDM fan.”

“Nope. I hate techno with a passion.” She confirmed, her stump twitching and her chin bobbing in a subtle two part nod. “But I like large crowds of horny young idiots, and that’s where my magic comes in!"

Syrennia the One and Only had her body grasp for the machete, her disjointed PoV and slight drunkenness leaving her searching for an almost awkwardly long amount of time before finally getting hold of it. Lining the machete up with the hem of her jeans, the witch explained “So my bestie Rey-Rey, who trust me you’re going to be seeing a lot of because she’s a loveable mooch, she's one of those freaks that goes to raves for the music. So I let her borrow my car to go to the rave along with a piece of me that could enjoy the scene without suffering the music.”

With that she slid the blade across her waist, slicing her body in two and herself in three. The witch’s torso lifted itself off her legs, which slid out from under it and sat on the coffee table beside her beaming head. “So, imagine these legs, except they’re wearing a tight miniskirt, a snazzy belt, a pair of flip flops, and a note written on the cut surface in glowing body paint. Wanna guess what the note said?”

“Free rides?” Carrie asked, shuddering and squeezing her pillow.

“Not far off. It said, ‘Not wearing panties!’, and had a little winky face under it letting people know exactly what to do with that information.” She said, her lower half leaning forward and showing off its smooth, level cut surface so Carrie could better imagine it.

“Holy shit!” Carrie said, absentmindedly reaching out and rubbing the waist's cut. It was soft, warm, and squirmed beneath her touch, and Syrennia the One and Only seemed to be in no hurry to get on with the story as Carrie rubbed the sensitive skin. “Guys must’ve been all over you! How did your friend keep tabs on you?”

“Oh, I have no idea where Rey-Rey went.” Syrennia the One and Only said, her headless torso shrugging its empty shoulders. “I told her not to worry about me. I already had a reactionary recovery healing spell prepped, so whenever I wanted my legs back, I could just activate the spell and grow it all back. Now-”

Carrie couldn’t help but interrupt “Wait, grow back? What happens to your original legs when you grow a new pair?”

“Who says those were my originals?” Syrennia the One and Only coyly asked. “But shut up, I’m getting to that! Anyway, my legs step out of that car and I swear not ten minutes go by before they’re getting bent over! People were feeling them up, shoving them around, dragging them across the ground by the ankles like cavemen, passing them in a circle and taking turns riding, and I can assure you it wasn’t just guys! There were definitely some feminine fingers and faces in the mix. I literally lost count of how many people got a piece of my ass, all I know is that three hours later, I was WRECKED. If I hadn’t cast a disease immunity spell on myself, I’m sure I would’ve caught and passed along every STD on the list.”

“Responsible of you.” Carrie said, nodding with approval at the witch’s forethought and consideration. “So three hours later you call it quits, and now your legs-“

“No no, that is NOT when I called it quits. That's when things got REALLY interesting!” She said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “So three hours go by and I’m a twisted heap of sweaty limbs. Spent. Then, some guy picks up my legs… which, by the way, I feel I should mention all my clothes were gone by this point. Got pulled off at some point in the scramble and vanished into the night, never to be seen again. Not gonna lie, I shoulda worn a cheaper belt. It was a nice damn belt, and I've never found another like it. Whatever, live and learn. Anyway, some guy picks up my filthy, naked legs and slings them over his shoulders, carries me for a while, and tosses me into the trunk of a car. Now, this is obviously a pretty dickish move taking other peoples’ toy away and it’s also pretty rapey, but at this point I’m so spent I’m like ‘fuck it’. If this goes somewhere I don’t like I can just cast my restoration spell and be good as new, free to magically track this motherfucker down and make his dick literally explode next morning.”

Syrennia the One and Only had her legs stand and lean over, her torso fumbling around until they got a hand into her pocket and fished out her phone. “So half an hour of driving later, dude pulls me out and brings my legs into a shower. Cleans me good, very tasteful and gentle, no funny business. So now I’m thinking he’s not some rapist creep, just a clueless good-boy who panicked and thought I was being taken advantage of.”

“Buuuuut?” Carrie asked, sensing a twist.

“But, he dries me off he picks me up, carries me around a bit more, and sits me down on a stool. He starts posing me, super meticulously, moving my legs around for a solid fifteen minutes. Then, thirty seconds later…” Syrennia the One and Only turned her phone to face her head, typing slowly as she had to effectively move her fingers in reverse. Eventually, she found what she was looking for and handed the phone to Carrie.

“Holy shit.” Carrie all but whispered. From an unknown number, Syrennia the One and Only had received a short text message and a long video, which she had already started for Carrie's enjoyment.

The message read “ReyRey told me to tell you hi too.”, while the video... well...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xm3YgoEiEDc

“So who is this? Who took this? Who took you?” Carrie asked, eyes locked on the phone.

“No idea.” Syrennia the One and Only said, with the most nonchalant shrug and biggest shit eating grin yet. “Don’t know the number, don't know anyone with this sort of equipment, and Rey-Rey either played dumb or was dumb. Says she never saw my legs more than a few seconds at a time and didn't see who took 'em. She must've given my number to someone though, otherwise how'd he text me? But she says she didn't exchange any numbers with anyone at the festival. I didn't do any detective work after that. It'd spoil the mystery.”

“So this guy still has your legs?” Carrie asked, hanging off every word.

“No idea.” The witch non-answered. “Once I regenerated a new lower half, I lost connection and sensation in my severed half. I assume it’s still out there, and I like to imagine him and the other one still use it, but I can’t feel or control it. It’s just a mindless pair of living legs, the ultimate toy. Maybe they’re still being used as this mystery director's muse, maybe he’s sold them to a friend, maybe the other one stole the legs and disappeared into the night with them. Who knows? Who wants to know? Not knowing makes it so much more exciting!”

Plucking the phone from Carrie's hands and minimizing the video, Syrennia the One and Only said “Oh, wow, how time flies! I really gotta get some shut eye. Don’t want to be groggy tomorrow.” She hastily picked up her head and placed it back on her shoulders, the magic undoing itself and her neck becoming whole again.

As the witch stood her lower half up to complete her reassembly, Carrie blurted “WAIT!” and stretched her arm out pleadingly. In doing so, she accidentally knocked over the pillow she’d been clutching so tightly to her tiny body, revealing a distinct wet patch in both her sweatpants and the pillow. “Before you go to bed… could I try something?”

Syrennia the One and Only checked the time again. “I dunno, it’s pretty late… you’d have to make it worth my while.”

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” Carrie said, returning the impish grin.