Author's note: You may be familiar with this story already, and that's because I wrote something super similar to this a couple years back. I wasn't happy with the story on the whole, which is why I largely abandoned it. This is a rewritten, reimagined version of those older stories, and more chapters are set to come. 

Whether you call them witches, warlocks, sorcerers, or some regional thing I’ve never heard of, what matters now is that they don’t exist. At least, not anymore. According to historians, magic users had a genetic ability to manipulate The Material Plane, which could be passed down from generation to generation. You couldn’t just decide to learn magic, you either had it, or you didn’t. Those who did spent decades training before they knew how to use it properly, which allowed them to do some pretty spectacular things.

Supposedly.

     There have been ancient images of people performing feats of magic on cave walls and ancient scrolls from all over the world, so as far as we can tell, this isn’t just tribal folklore. What’s hotly debated these days is whether or not the so-called material plane even exists, and if it does, why can’t we tap into it like our ancestors could hundreds of years ago? Most of this knowledge has been lost to time, so all we really have to go by is what we’ve been able to piece together; but the unexplainable effects of magical ancestry can be seen to this day.

     If you’re willing to trace your ancestry back far enough, everybody has a little bit of magical DNA. At least, that’s what I keep hearing, but I’ve never really put the time into it, and nobody in my extended family cared enough to figure that out either. Just having the gene doesn’t mean you’ll be able to do anything with it, or that it’ll even present itself. For 95% of people it’s recessive, but for the small handful of people with dominant magical traits, it commonly presents itself in the form of a magical disorder.

     As I sat on my couch, scrolling through the home feed on YouTube, a video that I normally would have completely glossed over happened to catch my eye. The thumbnail was of a late night talk show hosted by some variety of Jimmy, interviewing a guest with her detached head in her lap, making a faux shocked expression as both of them looked into the camera. Sharp-suited Jimmy had his hands on his cheeks, and the guest, wearing a long, black striped skirt and a white blouse, had her hands at a very different angle making the same face, a la Home Alone. The clickbaity title read ‘Jenna Klein’s shocking secret IS OUT!’

     “Hey, Rachel!” I shouted, directing my voice to the stairs behind me. “Come check out this video!”

     In response, I could feel Rachel’s legs shift and stretch as they laid across my lap. This is how she spent most of her time at home, in various pieces in different locations. It was almost a rarity to see my wife fully assembled when we weren’t in public. Her lower half ended about an inch above her belly button, with a flat expanse of skin where you would expect to see anybody else’s internal organs, had they been bisected non-magically.

     When it comes to the dice roll of genetics, Rachel really lucked out. Not only is she hot as hell (at least, I think she is), instead of getting one of the terrible magical disorders that can completely handicap a person, she has what I consider to be a superpower.

     As she stretched her legs, pointing and spreading her toes, I could tell I had just woken her up from a nap.

     “Huh? What’s… were you saying my name?” Rachel’s voice echoed from our bedroom on the second floor.

     “Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” I replied.

     “Yeeeeah,” she groaned, the strain in her voice from what I could only assume was stretching her upper half, “But that’s okay, I should probably be awake by now anyway.”

     “Well good, come watch this video with me.”

     “That’s why you woke me up?”

     “Trust me, you’re gonna want to see this one.”

     “Alright,” she yawned, “gimme a minute.”

     I could hear our bed frame creak under her shifting weight as she climbed out onto the floor. Rachel had become a bit of a gymnast at this point with how much time she spent in two pieces. Walking on her hands had become second nature, but balance still got a little sketchy when navigating the stairs, so she usually lowered her stump one step at a time. Rachel’s weekend wear was very conducive to casual detachment, which that day, meant one of my t-shirts tied off to the side with mid-thigh shorts exposing her pale complexion. She was dressed like this more often than not as of late, having just been laid off a few weeks ago.

     The distinctive sound of a creak as her weight shifted onto the step, followed by a very light thump as she lowered her torso was repeated as she continued down towards the living room. As she got to the last step, she hoisted her waist into the air and walked on her hands until she was close enough to raise her upper half onto the couch. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder as she snuggled in behind the legs that dangled off the edge of my lap, resting her hands on her feet.

     “So what are we watching?” Rachel asked.

    “See for yourself!” I answered, pointing to the thumbnail on the TV.

     “Woah, is that real?” She sounded legitimately shocked. People with magical disorders generally kept that under wraps (as best as they could), and here was Jenna Klein, star of stage and screen, outing herself to a massive audience.

     “Let’s find out.” I pressed play, waiting for 5 seconds to skip the ad, and grumbling to myself as I had to wait an additional 5 seconds to skip the second ad.

     The video started with Jenna, fully assembled, making some small talk with Jimmy. They were discussing her upcoming movie, Magicae, in which she played a character who had Appendageal Delapsus, and the struggles of life with a magical disorder. Rachel and I were excited to see this one as soon as the first trailer was released.

     “Obviously these types of disorders are real,” Jimmy started, “but those of our audience who are either in, or involved with the community of magical disorders were so impressed by the visuals that one of the most common things people wanted me to ask you was, is this all real? Do you actually have Appendageal Delapsus, or are these just really impressive effects?”

     “Jimmy, I’m so glad you asked.” Jenna raised her arms up, one hand supporting the back of her head, one hand under her chin, and lifted with what looked to be a small amount of force. Her neck began to stretch an almost unnoticeable amount, as a razor thin line started forming around the perimeter that quickly increased in size as the two halves started to separate.

     The audience made noises that were a mixture of shock, laughter, and confusion, as Jenna lowered her head onto her lap, splaying her auburn hair across her modest knee-length skirt. The camera zoomed in on her happily smiling face as the noise from the audience got louder.

     Panning back to show Jimmy and Jenna in their seats, the host tried to return to the conversation as naturally as possible. “Okay!” he shouted over the noise, “Clearly this is all real!” he finished, as the volume from the audience finally started to decrease.

     “Definitely real!” Jenna exclaimed from her lap.

     “So, were you cast in this role because you were so naturally suited to play a detachable character,” Jimmy asked, “Or was this role created because of… what you can do?”

“Well, as you might have heard, this movie is my introduction to the world of producing, which is a completely different aspect of filmmaking from anything I've been involved with so far,” Jenna began, “I wanted to make a movie about life with magical disorders to clear up a lot of the stigma surrounding them, and in order to make it as authentic as possible, we decided to cast all of the characters accordingly. There are hardly any special effects, practically everything you see on film is real.”

The stigma.  That was something that honestly never made a lot of sense to me. People with magical disorders were often judged simply for having the genetics they had. Rachael was fortunate enough that, unless she was disassembled in some capacity, nobody would know by first appearance that she had Delapsus, but she would still go out of her way to keep it a secret.

A common disorder (well, extremely rare, but common by magical disorder standards) is Brachial Polymelia, where a person is born with four fully formed, fully functional arms. It's like being albino or having blue eyes, that's just the luck of the genetic draw. And yet, I've heard stories of people moving to the other side of the bus just to avoid getting close to them.

     “There were some rumors circulating around you were forming a magical cast,” Jimmy said, “but I wasn’t sure if that was actually true! You obviously know as well as anybody else, but people with magical disorders usually do everything they can to keep that secret pretty locked up. I’m impressed that you could find so many people who were willing to put themselves out on such a huge scale!”

     “When the casting call for magical actors went out,” Jenna replied, “we were almost overwhelmed by how quickly it was answered. These are people with voices that want to be heard.”

     “Let’s get some of them on the show, I’d love to get to know them. But before we do that, let’s address the elephant in the room. I mean, your head is sitting in your lap!” Jimmy laughed, gesturing to his guest’s detached head.

     “Of course!” Jenna reassembled herself and adjusted her sitting position. “What do you want to know?”

     “You’re obviously a lot more public about this than most people are,” Jimmy said, “So why do people try to hide their magical disorders? I mean, if they can. Some are a lot more noticeable than others.”

     “It’s all about the fear of being judged," Jenna sighed, “Which is a generally horrible thing to do, so if you’re one of the people who make us feel bad, first of all, stop it.” She pointed at the camera, wearing her best angry face. "I've heard it said that people with magical disorders are 'unpure,' and a list of some other choice adjectives I can't say here."

The audience laughed uncomfortably. “I'd call it racist, but anybody from anywhere in the world has just as likely of a chance of being born with a magical disorder. Less than 5% of the population is even affected, but that number's been increasing over the past few years," Jenna rambled, her sentence pacing increasing slightly. "Let me get off my soapbox for a minute though, that’s what the whole movie is for. If you want to know more about our community, I encourage you to see Magicae when it releases in theaters next week!”

     “I will definitely be seeing it myself,” Jimmy added, and the audience clapped. “There's still a lot more I'd like to hear, so let's get back to this conversation right after this!” Jimmy pointed as the cameras panned back, playing the show’s theme as it cut to another ad break.

     Rachel shifted her weight on the couch and turned to look at me. “Wow. I honestly can’t imagine being that… open.”

***

     Rachel didn’t even let me know about her disorder until we had been dating for the better half of a year. It was around 6 years ago, the day she finished officially moving into my apartment after months of sleeping at each other’s places on and off, and we were getting ready for bed. As I walked out of the master bathroom, I saw her sitting on top of the covers with a particularly anxious expression on her face. She had her wavy blonde hair in a bun, wearing an oversized t-shirt to cover her panties.

     “What’s up?” I asked, “You look a little nervous.”

     “I… have something I need to talk to you about,” Rachel said. “Something I’ve never told anybody outside of my family. If we’re going to live with each other, I need you to know this about me.”

     “Okay, go for it.” With how long we had been together, I was confident that whatever she had to say wasn’t really going to impact our relationship.

     “It'll be a lot easier if I just show you.” Rachel stretched both arms out in front of her, wrists drooping, something she normally did when she wanted me to pull her up to a standing position. I grabbed hold of both hands and started to pull as normal, only this time, her left hand detached at the wrist.

     “Woah!” I shouted, watching her expression change from anxious to fearful as soon as she heard me. “I was… not expecting that.”

     “I was scared you were going to react like this...” Rachel said quietly. “You probably think I’m a freak, don’t you?”

     “No no no, not at all!” I replied defensively, “I’m just a little surprised.”

     My thoughts were racing. At the time, I really didn’t know what to think. My immediate, selfish concern was about what my friends and family would have thought if they knew I was dating somebody with a magical disorder. And as much as I liked to tell myself it didn't bother me, there was a small part of the back of mind that still thought that way.

     The thoughts were pushed out of my mind as quickly as they entered. Why the hell should I care what they think?

     “Does anything else come off, or is it just your hands?” I asked, reassembling her arm.

     She grinned, the face of anxiety quickly melting away. “Why don’t you come find out?”

Within an hour, bits and pieces of Rachel’s body were spread in various places on and around the bed. Her headless, limbless bust sat to my right as I rested my hand on her abbreviated neck stump. Rachel’s detached head laid sideways on my chest, my left hand running its fingers through her blonde hair as we stared at each other's eyes.

     “Gonna be honest babe,” she sighed, “I really wish I told you earlier. This has been by far the best night I’ve ever had. I’m so glad I’m finally with somebody I can completely trust.”

     Bringing her head towards my own, our lips locked for a few more seconds. After both of us gasped for air, I lifted her head up to make eye contact.

    “Rachel, I… you know you can always...” I stammered, holding her head out in front of me.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot.” I interrupted her laughter with another lengthy kiss.

***

     Back from the ad break, after panning around the studio to display the show’s sizable audience, the camera zoomed back in on the host and his guest. Jenna was split in two at the waist, with her legs seated to her left. To her right, was an unmarked container about the size of a shoebox. Jimmy talked over the audience cheers and studio music to get the conversation back on topic.

      After re-introducing Jenna Klein and her upcoming movie Magicae, he turned his time over to continue the discussion from earlier.

     “So, first and foremost,” Jenna began, “Appendageal Delapsus is latin for detachable appendages, and it’s just one of many different types. For example, Cranial Delapsus is limited to just being able to detach the head, Brachial Delapsus to just the arms, and so on.

     “I’m fortunate enough to be gifted with Appendageal Delapsus, which allows basically any section of my body to come off, and still have complete feeling and control over the detached section. Frankly, I think the term disorder is a bit misfitting in the case of Delapsus.”

     “To be entirely honest, you’re one of the first people I’ve ever met with a magical disorder,” Jimmy’s eyes darted sideways for a moment as if his memory was just jogged. “At least, one of the first people to be completely out and public about it. But from my understanding, isn’t body part theft a realistic concern for people with any kind of Delapsus?”

     I could hear Rachel whisper,  “I was just about to ask the same thing.”

     “That’s going to completely depend on the person,” Jenna replied. “Myself, for example. If you were to grab one of my hands or feet right now, you’d be able to pop it right off, because I’m not actively focusing to keep it in place. It’s a lot like flexing a muscle, it requires a good amount of physical exertion to keep a part attached if somebody tries to remove it.”

     “Sure,” Rachel mumbled, “But if somebody’s stronger than you, it’s not going to stop them from taking the part…” There’s a reason she never told anybody she wasn’t close with. If that secret came out, it’d be an easy one to take advantage of. Was it likely to happen? Probably not, but why take that risk?

     "For others, it requires methodical focus to get the part detached in the first place," Jenna continued, "But if I'm nice and relaxed, somebody could pretty much take any part off me if I let them."

     “I hope I’m not overstepping a boundary here, but, may I?” Jimmy asked.

     “Be my guest! Take a foot.” Jenna’s truncated lower half stretched out her leg, showing off the flat strappy sandals she wore. Her feet were almost entirely exposed, showing off her dark purple pedicure. “Use both hands, grab from the heel and the toe, then just pull.”

     Jimmy did exactly that. Her left foot, now detached, was sitting in his hands as he scrutinized the stump where it would have connected. “This looks like normal skin, what does it feel like for you?”

     “It is normal skin!” Jenna said, “But the feeling is really odd. It’s a surface area, but my nervous system is telling me that you’re touching the inside of my ankle. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

     Jimmy set her foot on his desk.

     “While you’re at it, would you mind taking the other one off as well? I wanna show you something.” Jenna outstretched her right leg, and Jimmy disassembled it as previously. He set her right foot next to its mate on his desk, her toes wiggling slightly. Jimmy grabbed both feet by the heel and pivoted them on the front of her sandal to show the camera.

     “But let’s say the worst case scenario were to happen, and one of my parts was to be stolen.” Jenna said, leaning over to pick up the box to her right. “That’s where Revisca comes in. Are you familiar with the company BioMod?”

     “Not especially. I know the name, and that everybody seems to be dumping money into their stock, but not much else,” Jimmy replied.

     “Well,” Jenna began, as she opened the box and reached inside. “Revisca is a pretty incredible drug that BioMod produces. It was originally designed for amputees to regrow a missing limb, but it really comes in handy if you have Delapsus.”

     She pulled out a pair of feet, identical to the ones Jimmy had sitting on his desk, except the nails were painted a grayish taupe.

     “Woah,” Jimmy exclaimed, “That’s incredible! I never thought I’d meet somebody with 4 feet but only 2 legs!”

     “You still haven’t,” Jenna chuckled, as she pieced her legs back together. “I’ve actually got 2 pairs of spare legs at home, I just didn’t bring them with me.” The audience started laughing.

     “Well, then I stand corrected! I can definitely see the benefit of having some spare parts. What do you usually use them for?” Jimmy asked.

     “Well, I’m a bit of a runner. It’s mainly how I stay in shape, I was actually on my high school track team as a teenager. So after a particularly long run, it’s nice to be able to swap out to a pair of legs that aren’t so tired and let them heal up a bit.”

     “And I’m guessing you got them from BioMod?”

     “That’s right! We actually owe a lot of the funding for Magicae to them, they very generously provided us with a budget and equipment to work with during production. In fact, they’re doing a large scale clinical trial for some new products that I can’t actually discuss, and are looking for magical volunteers.”

     “Interesting,” Jimmy interjected, “Were you part of that trial?”

     “I was! I really wish I could talk about it more, but they’d get… pretty mad at me if I did. I should clarify, it is a paid study, so if you have a magical disorder and 2 weeks to spare, check out their website to see if you qualify.”

     “Jenna, thanks once again for coming on, and for showing us everything you can do, it was really eye opening,” Jimmy said. “Before we go, is there anything you’d like to say?”

     “Yes! Those of you with magical disorders have absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. Be proud! You shouldn’t feel the need to hide! Don’t listen to the ableists, they don’t even know why they feel the way they feel. The last thing we need to do is fight hate with more hate.”

     “Be sure to catch Magicae when it comes out next week!” Jimmy announced. “Have a great night everybody!” The cameras panned back as the outro music played.

     “Hey Rachel,” I started, “Do you wanna sign up for that trial? We could definitely use the extra money right now.”

     “Oh, absolutely. I’m almost halfway through the application,” she said, tapping away at her phone.

Chapter 2: