Quinn’s Birthday Present, Part 1

A ‘real magic’ story featuring QuinnTheAssistant and Assistant Ann

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!). This one has some sexual references too, though it doesn’t get too hot an heavy. At least not yet. Enjoy!



Quinn raised the instruction sheet again. “Lower the upper rear lunette into place,” she read out aloud, “ensuring hinge pin D5 is pushed firmly into retention socket D6.” OK, that seemed pretty clear. Setting the sheet down, she lifted the substantial baulk of wood up and eased it into position. There was a satisfying click as the hinge parts mated.

She stepped back. So far so good. Standing in the middle of her living room floor was a double pillory. The front was a conventional set of stocks, with holes for neck and wrists, raised on a stubby post which in turn rested on a long rail. Mid way along that rail was another set of raised stocks, these having a single hole large enough for a person’s torso, with padded scoops below it that were presumably for the occupant’s legs, though whether said occupant was meant to sit or squat bunny-fashion was as yet unclear. The instructions, obviously enchanted, only revealed themselves step by step as she completed each stage. Most of the sheet was still blank.

OK. What next? Quinn retrieved the instructions. Words slowly emerged, fuzzy at first, then becoming sharper.

Stage E, she read, silently this time. Cut tape on lid of box E1, taking care not to damage contents. Taking a retracting knife from her hip pocket, Quinn slipped the blade out and sliced the brown parcel tape. The box seemed to shake as she did so. She was sure she heard a faint “Eek!” come from within. As soon as the cut was complete, the lid started to flex and a set of neatly manicured female fingers pushed out from the growing gap.

The fingers scrabbled for purchase. The words Help assistant E2 out of box E1 appeared on the instruction sheet, so Quinn grasped the emerging hand firmly and pulled, using one foot to keep the box firmly planted on the floor.

The grip was familiar. As was the arm that followed it. The crown of blonde hair that pushed the lid fully open clinched it. “Ann?” Quinn asked.

A muffled “yes” emerged from the box, followed by the rest of the woman who had spoken. She patted herself down as if checking everything was still there, then stepped out of the box and threw herself into Quinn’s arms.

“Happy birthday, Quinn!” Ann cried. She hugged her friend, planting a smacker of a kiss on one cheek.

“Ann!” Quinn exclaimed back. “Great to see you! And thanks. But what are you doing here?”

Ann stepped back, taking a moment to stretch her limbs. “Bloody cramped in there,” she commented, prodding the now-empty box with one toe. At about twelve inches along each side, its volume was far less than the woman who had emerged from it. The corners had split just getting her shoulders out.

Ann’s eyes flicked to the instruction sheet dangling from Quinn’s fingers. “I’m part of your birthday present, it seems,” she said. “Part E2 if I heard you right.” She grinned, and Quinn chuckled. “Oh, and Finella says hi!” she added.

Ah, Quinn though. So that’s who was behind the box that had appeared on her doorstep half an hour ago. A box that had contained other boxes. More boxes than could possibly fit inside, at least without magic. Oh, and a single sheet of paper bearing a stern warning to follow precisely the instructions that would appear, and not to open any of the boxes until told to.

Ann fished an envelope from the cleavage of her royal blue dress and handed it to Quinn.

“Thanks very much!” Quinn said, delighted at the thoughtful card inside and the really rather generous spa voucher. “You shouldn’t have!”

“Don’t mention it,” Ann replied, brushing away the thanks with a wave but nonetheless blushing with pleasure. “After what you did for my birthday it’s the least I could manage.” She held up a hand to forestall any further thanks. “Now,” she said firmly, “let’s see what we’re meant to do next.”



Between the two of them, Quinn and Ann soon completed the remainder of the apparatus, which basically meant a repeat of what Quinn had constucted on her own, but atop the other half of the long base rail, which now sported neck and wrist stocks at each end and two sets of waist stocks with leg rests in the middle. There were a few minor differences between the two middle pillories, though, the most notable of which was that the leg rests in the set Ann and Quinn had built together were much further apart than the ones in the first set. Whoever was to occupy that half of the contraption would be kneeling with her folded legs spread a good twelve inches apart.

The final step had been to thread a pair of long steel rods through holes in the stumpy central pillar of each pillory, along which they could slide to widen or shrink the gaps between them.

“What now?” Ann asked.

Quinn read from the instructions as soon as the next steps appeared. “Open middle stocks D and place occupant Q, kneeling, into lower lunette, shin Q1  in cutout D1 and shin Q2 in cutout D2, as per figure 6.” As she spoke the words, a sketch appeared of a stylised woman kneeling on the lower half of the stocks, facing left, the padded cutouts of the lunette supporting her horizontal shins just below the knees.

“Which one of us is ‘occupant Q’, do you think?” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow. The answer, after all, was pretty obvious.

Ann laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “But as if the initial letter isn’t clue enough, the big black Q that’s just appeared on your forehead clinches it!”

Quinn gaped. She snatched her powder compact from the bag on her sofa and flicked it open. There, in the tiny mirror, was the evidence that Ann wasn’t joshing her. She really did have a big black Q stamped between her eyes! Looking down, she saw that similar marks had appeared on her denim-clad shins: Q1 on the left and Q2 on the right. She just hoped the ink would wash out!

Ann snatched the mirror away from her. “Come on,” she said, steering Quinn back to the multiple pillories. “Up you get!”

Quinn humphed then did as she was bid. After all, the quicker she got on with this the quicker she’d get to the magic, whatever that was going to be. Knowing Finella, it would be uncomfortable, but most definitely rewarding. Stepping carefully over the rods connecting the four pillories, Quinn lifted her right leg and knelt in one of the cut-outs. It was a good fit, cradling her leg just below the knee very comfortably. Holding on to Ann’s shoulder for support, Quinn next lifted her other leg into place, leaving her kneeling inside the open pillory. “What now?” she asked, once she felt secure in her balance.

Ann scanned the instructions. “Lean forward and grab the front pillory. Put Q3 and Q4 - that’s your wrists - into the smaller holes. Then I’ll hold you steady while you lower your neck into the middle hole.”

Quinn turned her right wrist over. It bore a big black Q5. She raised her eyebrow. “Don’t tell me. There’s a big Q on my neck too? Q5 I’m guessing?”

Ann just nodded. Quinn reached down and slid her wrists into the two small cut-outs. With arms tensed to support her upper body weight, and with Ann’s arms under her ribs to support her, Quinn carefully tilted forward and lowered her neck into place. Ann quickly checked that Quinn’s limbs, clothing and hair were all fully within the boundaries of the cut-outs then lowered the upper half of the stock. Hidden catches snapped shut, locking Quinn firmly in place. Quinn wriggled minutely, testing out what freedom of movement was left to her and finding out the answer was very little indeed.

“OK,” Ann muttered, returning to the instructions. She muttered, her lips moving as she read.

“Now I need push your butt down until your torso’s horizontal, then lock the other stock down over your back.” Quinn acknowledged this with a simple okay and let Ann get on with her job. Moments later she felt Ann’s hands on her, one halfway up her spine and the other on her tailbone. Ann pushed down, gently at first but then with increasing firmness, forcing Quinn’s torso down until her ribs pressed against her thighs and her knees dented the undersides of her breasts. Her bottom, too, was pushed down, her buttocks stretching and the seams of her jeans creaking ominously. If she’d known she was going to have to bend like this, she’d have changed into something more comfortable first! She gritted her teeth, holding the pose while Ann lowered the final section of stocks over her. Her pose having pulled her jeans and top apart, the wood pressed down on bare skin and the hard hip bones below. Yes, the stocks were padded, but it was still far from comfortable. Quinn waited while Ann walked around her, taking in the sight of a thoroughly immobilised Quinn.

“How do I look, then?” Quinn asked, once Ann had finished her circuit.

“Uncomfortable,” Ann replied. “Sexy. Vulnerable.”

Too damn right she was vulnerable. Quinn was very aware of her trapped neck and pinioned wrists. Of her breasts hanging below her, unprotected by any of the apparatus. Of her thrust out butt, her ass crack stretched wide and her asshole gaping under thin layers of stretched denim and silk. Of her pussy, pressed against her heels. She was sorely tempted to stretch her foot, to see if she could rub the denim seams where it would do the most good...

“... tab Q6.”

Quinn blinked. What had Ann been saying? “Sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

“I’ve got to pull tab Q6, it says,” Ann repeated. “It doesn’t say where that is, and there’s no diagram, so I’m going to have to have a little explore.”

Quinn struggled not to moan as Ann deftly explored all around, and all over, her body. Fingers danced along seams and over curves, almost driving Quinn wild. Finally, Ann gave a cry of triumph. Quinn felt a sharp tug on the bottom of her knit top, just above her right hip. Her top stretched, bit deep, then suddenly slipped, coming right off without tearing despite having no buttons or zips.

“And here’s tab Q7,” Ann exclaimed. That, apparantly, was in the small of her back, almost under the tight stock. Quinn felt magic tingle, allowing her jeans to come off despite being bent double. She was just thankful that - as always - she had worn matching bra and panties. Then she yelped, a sharp slap having stung her rear.

“That’s for not paying attention,” Ann told her. “Now stay still and don’t rock the boat. It seems like it’s my turn to climb aboard.”


END OF PART 1