Quinn and the Dentist’s Chair

A ‘real magic’ story featuring QuinnTheAssistant and based on the 3D render What is Going on Here? by Posebinder

Content warning: this story is based on the fantasy that stage magicians with real powers are - without most of the audience realising - actually sawing, impaling, transforming or vanishing their assistants and volunteers for real, but with the aid of magic that prevents the subject suffering any lasting harm and which transforms their experience into one they can even enjoy. And of course they’re all restored at the end (eventually, anyway!). There is some strong language, nudity, and sexual content too. Enjoy!



Quinn jerked. What in the blue blazes had happened? One moment she’d been standing upright, on stage, the next...

Her mind was still fuzzy and her eyes didn’t seem to be working, but she could feel a padded surface under her back. She was lying down, then, or rather she was reclining. In some sort of full length tilting chair.

She tried moving. Her arms were secured above her head, held by manacles around her wrists. Metal, by the cold, hard feel of them. Her legs were restrained too, held wide apart at the ankles. Not by the chill of metal, though. Leather cuffs, probably.

She could still feel the touch of fabric on her body as she breathed. She’d not been stripped naked, at least.

It was a reflection on the life she’d chosen, she thought wryly, that she could be dropped into any situation and determine so much so quickly from sensation alone.

Including that she was probably gagged. There was tight fabric over her mouth, at least.

As if a switch had been flicked, her vision returned. Yes, she was still on the stage. A woman was leaning over her. A brunette, wearing a black leather corset under an open white doctor’s coat.

Who, though? Quinn cursed silently. Being hynotised – for that was what she was sure had happened – always did play merry hell with her memory, for a minute or two anyway.

Ah yes. Mistress Finella. The stage magician. Memories bubbled back to the surface of Quinn’s mind. Finella contacting her for help with a one-off show at... where? OK. The Dental Devices 2018 Trade Show. A special post-dinner performance for a select audience.

That explained the white coat, then. And the chair.

Suddenly Quinn became aware that Mistress Finella was talking. She concentrated.

“... our patient is awake again,” the magician was saying. “Aren’t you, Quinn?”

“Mehsss,” Quinn replied through the cloth gag. She gave up and simply nodded.

“Good. I do prefer my victi... I mean my patients to be fully conscious.”

That got a ripple of laughter. A good-sized audience, then, Quinn thought.

Finella cleared her throat. “OK, Ladies and Gentlemen. Let us proceed with the demonstration.” She paused. “This is my own invention, the Multi-Drill 3000. As you can see, the chair has integrated restraints for dealing with difficult patients, like Quinn here, and it can be adjusted to your requirements.”

With that, Finella tugged on a lever. Quinn’s legs were yanked still further apart, causing her skirt to ride up until it was mid thigh. Another tug on another lever and Quinn’s arms were jerked tighter above her head. She could feel the fabric of her blouse – a plain, business-like white number – strain across her chest, the buttons threatening to pop.

“The gag isn’t exactly standard,” Finella went on, “but Quinn is a bit of a screamer, so out of consideration for our eardrums...” She paused for the laughs to die away before continuing. “Of course that makes it hard to work on her mouth in the conventional way, but it does let me demonstrate the versatility and sheer flexibility of this system’s built-in drill arm.”

There was a click, followed by a whir. Quinn looked to her right – the side facing the audience – and saw a slender metal tentacle snaking round from behind the chair, the tip a cluster of menacing dental implements. Her eyes opened wide in genuine fear. It stopped about a foot from her head, the tools on the end whining as they spun.

“Mufff da muck?” Quinn exclaimed. She was only half acting. Even by her standards, this looked pretty nasty.

“Oh dear,” Finella said, faking a shrug of exasperation. “I told you she was a difficult one, Ladies and Gentlemen.” Finella waved a hand over Quinn’s face and the gag tightened, cutting off Quinn’s objections completely.

“Now before I proceed,” Finella said, “there are just two more things to do. Firstly, a slight modification to Quinn’s costume so that you can see what’s happening to her more clearly, and see there are no tricks.” At that, Finella produced a large cloth, laid it over Quinn’s torso and legs, then yanked it away.

Quinn felt a sudden breeze. She was naked! Well, apart from her tiny black panties, she corrected herself as she looked down.

“Secondly, although I don’t believe in pain relief when performing dental procedures, I will relent and provide Quinn with something to distract her from what’s happening.”

Finella suddenly pinched Quinn’s right nipple. Quinn winced, but didn’t object. The magician tweaked and rolled the sensitive nub until it was hard, then did the same to the other one. Then she produced a set of nipple clamps, joined by a silver chain, and clipped them on, tightening them quite severely.

“Now our patient has something else to think about. Though of course I would only recommend this particular practice with patients you are on especially good terms with.”

As soon as the resulting snickers died away, Finella pressed a switch. The steel tentacle creeped forward again, moving towards Quinn’s left ear! Quinn tried to cry out, but the magical gag was completely muffling any noise she might make. She tried to jerk her head away, but Finella grabbed her tight and held her with surprising strength as the tentacle continued its relentless approach.

Quinn could feel the soft breeze generated by the spinning implements mere inches from her ear. She wriggled. She bucked. All to no avail.

Realising the futility of further resistance, she gave in. Better to just get this over and done with. She relaxed, and as she did so the vicious implement struck.

Quinn felt her ear canal rip. She screamed, and although no noise came out of her mouth her cry echoed inside her head. Seconds later the machine burst through her eardrum. If she hadn’t already been lying down she’d have fallen, so badly did her sense of balance go haywire. But she hardly had time to process that either, as the screaming monstrosity of a dentist’s drill was now burrowing down towards her throat, clipping her brain stem in the process and causing her world to burst into a mad firework show of light. Even that only lasted a moment before the drill-tipped tentacle drove through into her throat and her mouth, causing her to gag.

“Open wide, Quinn,” Finella whispered. Quinn, dazed but determined to put on a good show, complied. The drill scraped along her tongue, gouging the sensitive organ in the process, then ripped through the gag over her mouth. Looking down, she could see the spinning tip whining madly an inch below her nose!

Finella addressed the audience. “As you can see, Ladies and Gentlemen,” she said, “this drill arm is flexible enough to reach the patient’s mouth no matter what point of entry you use. It could equally have been Quinn’s nose, her throat, or even any one of a number of more sensitive entry points lower down.”

“But there’s more,” she continued. “Some of you might be wondering why it’s called the Multi-Drill. What’s so Multi about it? Well, I’ll show you right now.”

Finella clicked her fingers. Quinn felt a sudden movement in her throat. Something wriggling, splitting. Then she realised. It was a second tentacle, branching out from the main one. It twisted round, then began to drill its way down her throat and into her chest, even as the parent arm remained in place in her mouth.

She gagged again, forcing herself not to swallow or gasp for breath. The drill was such a tight fit that doing so would only cause it to rip her aesophagus even more. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and willed it all to be over soon.

The drill was under her breastbone now. Quinn felt it branch in two yet again. One branch continued down deeper into her torso and belly while the other started to bore outwards through her rib cage right at the base of her breastbone!

The vibration made her want to grit her teeth, but of course that wasn’t possible with one arm of the drill still projecting out of her mouth. It also made her want to clench her thighs, but again – thanks to the damned ankle cuffs – that wasn’t possible either. She was stuck between pain and pleasure yet unable to respond to either!

With a horrible splintering squeal, the drill head burst out between the base of her breasts and kept going until a good twelve inches of curving, segmented metal tentacle was in full view, tipped by a still-spinning cutting head. Several people in the audience screamed, and many more gasped. Quinn just wished for some relief from the torture.

But that was not to be. The tentacle still inside her belly was boring relentlessly towards her crotch, triggering a confused mess of sensations from Quinn’s abused nervous system as it went. Even the tentacle that had just burst through her chest wasn’t quite finished with her yet. As Quinn looked on in astonishment, yet another mini-tentacle emerged from it. This one ended in a hook like the ones dentists used to scrape at fillings during a checkup, but instead of heading for her mouth it dipped down and hooked onto the chain between her nipple clamps.

Quinn knew what was coming. As the tentacle in her belly began to drill through her womb and out along the tunnel of her pussy, the one over her chest tugged back hard on the chain, pulling her nipples painfully. And to top it all, the arm inside her sex split again and again, the two new branches heading for her clit and her anus, stimulating bot from inside!

Quinn was writhing now. Bucking against the straps that held her. She could see the fabric of her panties bulge over her pussy as one arm of the infernal device began to emerge. The climax of the show was an imanent as her own climax.

With a surge and a rip, the metal tentacle burst from her, shredding the last remnant of Quinn’s clothing and shredding the little control she had left. She arched up against the cuffs that held her, screaming her orgasm silently into the gag as the clamps were ripped from her nipples and the steel arms shot into the air to wave triumphantly above her.

The audience erupted.



THE END