📜🎩 T H E ☆ M A G I C I A N - Act 54 (Patreon)

Content possibilities: original content, w/w(?) or overall queerness, fluff, angst, hurt & comfort, asexuality/demisexuality, cryptid (?) pregnancy, nb(?)preg, sexual & kink awakening, stuffing, nausea, gender ambiguity, partially male presenting pregnancy, transphobia, dysphoria, depression & suicidal thoughts, parental conflicts, use of alcohol and other drugs, birth, demons, religions & mythology (diverse), cursing, belly focus

▶ Read all from the start
Part I Acts: 1-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 l 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Part II Acts: 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 28½ | 29 | 30 | 30½ | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 41½ | 42 | 43
Part III Acts: 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53

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T H E  ☆  M A G I C I A N

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Act 54

Mel

Soundlessly, the portal closed behind Mel, leaving behind a maximalist yet inviting living room in its wake.

“What the actual fuck, are you seriously dancin’?” their serpent cane cackled in disbelief while being thrown, turning into organic matter just in time to land on the very be-pillowed antique chaise-longue.

Instead of answering, Mel displayed another choreography maneuver. They bowed a little to the side, took off their top hat and rolled it over their shoulders, with their hand as a springboard, making it land perfectly on a cloak rack.

“Alright, Gene Kelly, should I drop ya off someplace rainy, so you can do the singing in the rain?”, Lusje commented with a laugh.

“I actually wouldn’t mind that,” Mel condescended.

“Shit, I dunno if you’re high or finally losing’ it, but I dig it!”, Lusje rejoiced, and with a simple flick of her tail, the demon made the old gramophone play the original tune from the 1952 movie, without any record turning under the needle.

Without any hesitation, Mel took a stride on the sturdy couch table, improvising step moves of not too shabby quality.

The demonic serpent stretched its upper body, ready to be grabbed again. When Mel did so, it turned back into a solid shape, this time featuring black spannable fabrics, just like an umbrella.

A comical mass of raindrops started to drip from the ceiling, cooling off Mel’s heated cheeks without actually wetting them.

Mel tuned in with the song, swinging the demonic umbrella, opening it up, and twisting it over their shoulder.

“Singin’ too, now! Fuck yeah!” the umbrella yelled, then joined in, too.

Step, tap, pirouette, tap, one step off the table, back on it again, then a jump to the couch, wandering along the backrest.

“Welcome home. Your date went well, I take it, sir?” a raspy, nasal voice startled both Mel and the demon to such an extent, that the music and rain vanished into thin air, leaving behind the normal pseudo-chaotic room of an organized memorabilia hoarder.

Mel spun around, facing an older man standing in the door, his hands crossed behind his back, his posture well trained upright. His rutted and partially heavily scarred face stood in contrast to his simple, tasteful glasses and tidy, backcombed white hair. Mel’s butler. Though instead of his classic uniform he wore silk pajamas.

Next to him, a Siamese leisurely entered the room.

“Oh, curses, forgive me, I had forgotten the ungodly time” Mel said while sliding down the couch backrest and taking off their bowtie to hand it to the old man, who stood there prepared and unfaced, ready to serve, as if the spectacle just now had been the most natural thing.

“Hey Alfred,” Lusje greeted the guy whose name was actually Greg. The demon had never accepted his real name because it didn’t sound ‘butlery enough’.

“Don’t mention it, sir. I couldn’t sleep anyway, I was a little concerned about you.”

“Don’t lie, Alfred. You weren’t worried, you were curious.”

The butler didn’t answer. Instead, he cleared his throat.

Smiling, Mel handed him their shoes now, too. “It did go well, Greg.”

“Our baby magician isn’t a bachelor anymore!” Lusje, who had slithered on the sofa and curled up on a cushion, burst out.

For a short moment, a slight smile grooved into the wrinkled, blemished face of the old man, just to be replaced with an illegible expression again. “That is good to hear,” he commented with professional detachment.

“I will prepare a late night snack with hot milk and chamomile tea then. Maybe you’ll be able to go to sleep before the sun rises, sir.”

Mel threw themself on the couch, quickly followed by the cat, welcoming it with gentle strokes.

“Sounds good, Greg. Excuse me for barging in like this again. Oh, and please call me Madam from now on.”

“Understood, Madam.”

Mel winced a little. Hearing that term of address out of Greg’s mouth sounded still too unfamiliar.

“Well. Maybe don’t call me that all the time. Now and then will do.”

“Understood, Sir.”

▶️ NEXT CHAPTER (not yet online)

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Story written by RoseVirage

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