Magic isn't real, even for an amateur magician. But what if it is? Life isn't always how we imagine or what we want, but with a little magic anything is possible, except maybe going back to how things were.
There are two things I can say about myself, well there are a lot more than only two, for example I love Star Trek. Not any of the new stuff, when they started going AU, but the first four series and ten movies. I'm getting off topic. I haven't even gotten through the first paragraph and I'm already getting off topic. So what was I saying? Oh yeah, there are two things I can say about myself. First, I love magic and I'm an amateur magician. I'm not talking about spells and potions and mythical creatures, I'm talking about sleight of hand. My preference is card tricks, but I love watching coin magic, ring magic, cups and balls, you name it. Maybe one day I'll expand my repertoire beyond using a deck of cards, but for now I'm perfectly content.
The second thing you should know about me is that I wish I had been born a girl. I don't remember ever being unhappy as a guy, but I'm more comfortable as a girl. I do remember being jealous of all the clothing and accessory options available to girls and women. Guys fashion is rather boring in comparison. I've never been into 'manly' things, cars, sports, guns, etc. I've also always been more emotional about things than what society says a guy should be. I think the start of knowing something was different about me started with puberty (doesn't it always) and the discovery of porn. I remember one of my friends getting a hold of a Hustler magazine and several of us together looking through the pictures. My main thought was 'I bet she feels so good being fucked' while all the comments around me were more along the lines of 'I bet her pussy feels so good'.
These thoughts developed through the years and, as the internet evolved to what it is today online porn sites became a regular go to for me. I found when watching what would be called 'normal' porn, I always identified more with the girl than I did with the guy. I knew I wasn't gay, as I found gay porn repulsive, and the thought of kissing another guy, or even just touching another guy's dick even more so. I think my true self discovery came the first time I saw a girl with a strapon and the guy and girl took turns fucking each other.
Thinking back, I don't remember wanting to be a girl until I was in my mid twenties, when my girlfriend at the time, Jennie, said I would look good wearing her nightie while she fucked me. I remember the excitement as I slide it on, and for the first time in my life, I felt 'right'. My 'dress up' slowly evolved from there. A few nighties, bras and panties were first, followed by clothes, makeup, painted toenails, and press on nails.
Then there was that one fateful night where my girlfriend had to work late. As soon as I had gotten home I started getting dressed. She arrived home and was slightly in shock. I had my hair braided in a ponytail. I was wearing a plain blue tee-shirt with a skirt that came down to just above my knees. To finish the look I had eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick, and a pair of wedge sandals. I of course had on a bra, and had stuffed the cups to give me the appearance of having C cups. Since I had the next three days off work, I had also painted my fingernails to match my toes.
"Surprise!" I said, striking a girly pose.
"I did say to get dressed up, but I wasn't quite expecting this." Seeing the confusion on my face, "I sent you a text. We're going out to eat with Misti and Jen."
Misti and Jen are two of her friends from work, who fortunately know about my dress up, and had even donated some old clothes to my meager collection. I've been skinny my whole life, at 5"6' and 120 lbs, most of my girlfriend's and the donated clothes fit me well enough.
"I was listening to music. I must have missed that text." I said and gave a pout.
"Well, grab a jacket. We don't want to keep them waiting." She grabbed one of her empty purses and threw my keys, lipstick and a compact in there, then pulled out my debit card and placed it in the card carrier inside the purse.
I tried to object, but gave in after she told me she would withhold sex for a week. Needless to say I was mortified at the thought of being in public dressed as a girl, even more so knowing that this would be the first time anyone other than Jennie would see me like this, and two of those people would know the truth.
"You need a name." She said while we were in the car.
"What?"
"You need a girl name. We can't be calling you by your real name, can we?" She started rattling off names, seeing if one struck my fancy.
"Kyla." I said in an almost whisper.
"Kyla? I like it. It's pretty. But why that name?"
"It's the name of the first porn star that I thought was absolutely beautiful."
"So you're naming your girl self after a porn star. That's… I don't know what that is."
"Well, it's pretty." I said with a little pout.
Dinner went well. Jennie's friends were a little surprised, but more so that they didn't recognise me at first. What I thought would be awkward turned out to be normal. By the time our food arrived it seemed that everyone at the table, myself included, seemed to forget that I was a guy in girls clothes. By the end of the night I realised that this is what I had been missing my whole life. Sex that night was amazing.
My dressing continued, my wardrobe expanded. Every day when I got home from work I would transform into Kyla. Jennie taught me how to not only dress as a woman, but to act like a woman. We would go shopping, out to eat, even went to the clubs a few times. Life seemed perfect, until those fateful words. "I'm moving out."
While I thought everything was wonderful and perfect, Jennie had been having difficulties accepting me… the girl me. We had a long fight, and it all came out. She had cheated on me with her ex, started flirting with men at work. She blamed me for it all, saying that she wanted a boyfriend and not a girlfriend. When I asked her why she didn't say anything sooner, she said it was because she saw how happy I was, and she couldn't take that away from me, and if I had to choose between her or Kyla she didn't think she should win.
We were both in tears when she left. I just laid on my stomach on the bed, crying into my pillow until I fell asleep. Jennie took the next two days to move all her things out. I made sure I wasn't there. In fact, I stayed in a motel room for those two days, as I didn't want to be around people I knew.
Jennie sent me a text when she had left with the last of her stuff. 'I got all my stuff. I wish you the best in life' was all it said. I didn't bother with a response. I was angry. I checked out of the motel and went home, stopping off at a liquor store for a bottle of Jack on the way. I drank a lot over the next few days (months?). I hadn't dressed up since the day Jennie broke up with me. I tried, but it made me cry, so I just packed up everything 'girly' and tried putting it out of my mind. I even got a haircut, the first real haircut I'd gotten in a long time.
I spent a lot of time mindlessly watching things on YouTube, not really interested in any of it. Somehow a video of Richard Turner performing on Penn & Teller: Fool Us that changed my life. The things that man can do with a deck of cards was amazing. To top it all off Richard Turner is blind, and that made it even more amazing. I went out and bought a deck of cards intent on learning a new skill, the one handed shuffle. I watched the Richard Turner performance again and tried to do the shuffle like he did. Not only did it not work, but the cards all ended up on the floor.
Searching YouTube for a one handed shuffle tutorial brought me to a video that actually helped. For anyone that isn't into magic or cardistry, you'd be surprised how much your hands hurt when you first start, discovering muscles you never knew existed. I wanted to learn other things and I found the channel of a magician named Chris Ramsay and that started my descent down the rabbit home that is close up magic. I soon had watched all of the tutorials that Chris Ramsay had posted and started looking for more, from Alex Pandrea and Savior Spade, to my favorite, Daniel Madison. Listening to Daniel Madison talk about his views on magic clicked something in my brain. He calls it practicing 'the deceptive arts', and the way he talks just spoke to me.
I continued to practice sleights and maneuvers and had at least one deck on me no matter where I was. Any and every chance I had I would have cards in my hands. It got me a few free drinks at bars, and made me find joy in life again, being able to entertain people.
The more I practiced the 'deceptive arts', the more comfortable I became dressing as Kyla again. I eased my way back in to dressing up, with wearing a nightie to bed, or just putting on a bra and panties underneath my guy clothes. I also had to relearn a lot of things, especially makeup. My hair had now grown back out again and was just long enough to put in a ponytail again. I looked at myself fully dressed, and sometimes I was filled with joy, and other times I broke down in tears.
Necessity drove me to leave the house as Kyla again. I had the day off, and decided to dress completely. I went for my smokes (a nasty habit, I know) but the pack was empty. I could have sworn I had a new pack but alas, I couldn't find them to save my life. I checked the pockets of my jackets, getting excited several times when I felt something there only to be disappointed to find 'another' deck of cards.
I contemplated just changing back into guy clothes but I had already put on makeup, and was starting to feel the nicotine withdrawal. I decided to suck it up and go outside as Kyla for the first time since the breakup. I picked up a purse and threw in the necessities, lipstick, compact, debit card and license in the built in card holders, and a deck of cards and headed out. I got to the gas station just a couple blocks away and went in for much needed smokes. I know everywhere is supposed to card, but I haven't been carded for cigarettes in like six months, so when I was asked for ID, I was caught off guard.
I opened my purse and pretended to look through it to buy me some time to think. "Oh no. I think I left it my other purse." I said. "Can't you let it slide? Just this once?"
"Sorry." He said and pointed to a sign. 'No ID, No Sale'.
'Stupid laws'. I thought, as I left the store empty handed. I drove a little further down the street to the next gas station, only to have a similar result. I dug through the ashtray in the car and found a halfie so I wasn't feening, but I was still getting very frustrated.
It was the fourth place it tried that finally sold me cigarettes without wanting to card me. It might have been fate because as I was leaving the gas station I saw a man putting up a sign for a yard sale. I've never really enjoyed yard sales until I started buying things for the girl me. Sometimes it's a complete bust, sometimes you hit paydirt. I turned around and went to the ATM and pulled out $100 (the $3.50 charge between the two competing banks be damned) and headed to the yard sale, unaware of what fate had in store for me.
Author's note. I was hoping to have completed this in two chapters, but it looks like there will be one more (at least). This chapter does have several sexual/sex scenes, but I did my best from turning it into smut. I hope you all enjoy reading, and will stick around for the conclusion that hopefully will be forthcoming soon. ;)
I arrived at the location of the yard sale to see several people already rummaging through the unwanted wares, and nowhere to park close by. I ended having to park almost a block away and walk to the house holding the sale. I lit a cigarette and braced against the chill of the morning breeze and started walking.
My heart sank a bit when I made it to my destination. Just looking at some of the stuff for sale it was obvious that it had belonged to an old man. Most of the items seemed to belong in an antique shop, and there was no sign of any clothing or jewelry. I was tempted to just turn around and leave, but a voice in my head said 'you're already here, you may as well take a look'.
My disappointment faded when I came across a small table with bricks of playing cards, many of which were branded with logos from casinos in Las Vegas, and several single decks.
I was looking through the various cards when a woman asked, "Do you do magic?"
I turned to the woman, she was in her late forties or early fifties. "A little. It's more just a hobby than anything."
"My dad was a performer back in the day. He always wanted to make it big, but he gave it up as a career when he found out my mom was pregnant with me. He would still do the odd shows for birthday parties or whatnots. You know, I still have no idea how any of his tricks work, he never told me."
I could tell that talking about her dad was difficult for her. "It sounds like he cared a lot about you."
"Do you know that one trick where the same card keeps ending up on top of the deck? It was always one of my favorites."
"Sure." Is what I said. 'Who doesn't know an ambitious card routine?' is what I thought as I grabbed my cards out of my purse and began my impromptu performance. Of course, I started drawing attention from the few other people and soon I had a group of seven that I was performing too.
When I finished my set the woman had tears forming in her eyes. "Come with me. I want to show you something." She led me into the garage and to a trunk that had definitely seen better days. The leather was faded and cracked, the latch long broken, and the hinges wanting to rip off rather than actually open. "I don't know if you'd be interested in any of this, I don't even know if any of it is even worth anything, but if you want it… say fifty?"
Taking a quick look inside the trunk revealed what very well might have been several hundred dollars worth of props and gimmicks when it was all new, but just like the trunk none of it seemed to have aged well. There were a few opened decks and about six or seven books, a few of which I recognized. Expert at the Card Table, which is revered as a 'magician's Bible' so to speak, Expert Card Technique, Sleight Unseen, and Bertram on Sleight of Hand.
I doubt the contents, in its current state, was worth that much but for some reason I couldn't say no. Even though I wanted to haggle the price down, or get a deal on the twenty decks of cards I was already wanting, all I could say was yes. I left there seventy dollars lighter in the pocket, but the new cards alone were probably worth more than that so I was happy. I did feel kind of guilty having her husband carry the trunk and load it in my car though. I still need to get used to the 'women don't do heavy lifting' stereotype and I'm still not a hundred percent used to being seen as a woman.
After getting home any earlier guilt of having someone carry this trunk for me was gone as I was struggling to get it up the stairs. It wasn't so much the weight itself, it was that it was a big, bulky trunk that was now missing a handle ever since I first tried pulling it out of my car. Eventually, I did manage to complete the task without the need of a 'big strong man' and I was then sitting on my bed while pulling out the various contents. The books were the first to come out and those were set aside on my nightstand, along with any other pieces of paper or booklets. The next items I pulled out were the cards. There were a couple stripper decks, a gaff deck, and a half remaining deck of blanks, all in either the classic red or blue rider backs (the design on the back of Bicycle playing cards you can find literally anywhere).
Chinese linking rings came out of the trunk next, and then three brass cups and two large bags of sponge balls, one was all red and the other was filled halfway with red but had green, blue, and orange mixed in as well. There was a small wooden cigar box that contained several coins, some looked like quarters, but there were also silver and gold dollars, some casino chips, and a small handful that looked like they were once part of a pirate's treasure. There were several other items in the trunk, such as thumb tips, colored handkerchiefs, and several other props that I assumed were all gimmicks but none of it held any interest for me so I grabbed a small box to dump them all in.
I had hoped that the trunk would have been significantly lighter, but it seemed to me that it was heavier than before. As I started to dump the trunk over into the smaller box that I had grabbed I noticed that it had a false bottom that was now coming loose. Now empty, I pried out the false bottom to reveal a rather ornate mirror and a note. The note was covering the majority of the mirror, blocking me from seeing my reflection. The note read,
'My dearest Catherine,
If you are reading this, then I would assume that I am no longer a part of this world, save for the memories you have of me, and for those reasons I will always be with you. You can believe this or not, the choice is yours, but regardless know that you are more important to me than anything else this world could ever give. The mirror below has the power to grant your heart's deepest wish. I don't know where it came from, but it fell into my possession long ago. I used it to become what I wanted most in life, a father. I won't go into the details, but medically I should not have been able to father a child. The mirror changed that. When your mother told me she was pregnant I hid this mirror away, never to stare into it again. I don't know what would happen if the mirror ever broke, and I didn't want to ever change a single memory that I had with you. If you do decide to use the mirror, my only advice is to be cautious, as nothing comes without a price. For me it was the desire to be famous. I still enjoyed performing, but the thought of fame now disgusts me. In the end it was worth every moment.
I will always love you,
Jonathan
I didn't know what to think. I've always hated the magicians that insist on other worldly powers, or that they themselves have real magic powers. To me that is just as bad as all those cheats out there using their skills to swindle and cheat people out of their money. All magic is inherently a lie. Us magicians just know something that our audience does not, we have ways to mask our deceptions through misdirection or hidden actions or through gimmicks. But when I pulled the paper off the mirror and gazed upon my reflection, my breathing stopped and my heart skipped a beat.
It was still me looking back, but it wasn't me at the same time. The woman staring back at me was stunningly beautiful. My light brown hair was now raven black and my golden brown eyes were as blue as the ocean. My features were also softer, as was my skin. On closer inspection there was no evidence of any facial stubble and my throat was smooth. My eyebrows were more sculpted into a very feminine curve. My ears were also pierced in three places each.
I was lost in my reflection until an immense pain struck me. It felt as if my entire body was being crushed and lit on fire. The pain was gone as abruptly as it started, but then I felt myself falling. A series of memories flashed through my mind, memories that were mine but from a different me. Some of them brief recollections, but some were as vivid as having just lived through them.
It was my sixth or seventh birthday and the theme was princesses. I was so happy to have had my first pony ride, up to the point where I looked down to see my pink princess dress covered in mud. I spent what felt like the next few hours in tears. Next I was eight and attending my first gymnastics class. My first kiss on the cheek by a boy at age nine. My first time putting on a tutu at age ten to attend my first ballet class.
These memories were vivid, but there was a disconnect with the emotions. I know how I felt, but I couldn't feel it if that makes any sense. My next memories were a little more real. I remember waking up in the middle of the night when I was twelve, with a pain in my stomach. I remember the dread as I felt the wetness and thought I had wet the bed. I remember the horror when I turned on the light and saw the blood. I remember the look of shock as my dad entered the room after I woke him up with my scream, and my mom calmly explaining what to do with the tampon.
I remember how my heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode in my chest when I had my first kiss. Tommy Denton, and we were at my first boy girl party, I was fourteen. I remember the first time I touched a penis at fifteen. Somehow I knew exactly what to do and ended up giving my first blowjob to a one Daniel Roth. While the experience was new and exciting, it seemed lacking, and I don't mean that gratification was one way. I remember fingering myself that night watching lesbian porn and having the best orgasm of my life (to that point). While I still got excited looking at guys and from 'regular' porn, I know from that moment on I was more interested in girls.
I remember the first time I kissed a girl, Aisling (pronounced Ashley, don't ask, it's Irish) Whalen. She just transfered schools, her dad was in the Marines and just got stationed at Camp Pendleton, and she had red hair and freckles that both went down to the top of her breasts, which were gorgeous by the way. It took me six months to build up the courage to finally do something about the crush I had on her. I was sixteen and she had just turned seventeen two months ago. We had spent the day shopping at the mall (and by shopping I really mean just going into a store, trying different things on and leaving them in the 'I don't really want this item after all' pile, and moving onto the next store to repeat the process and then buying one or two cheap somethings at the end of the night to have that sense that the day wasn't a total waste) and we were walking to her house from the bus stop. She was talking on and on about something but I was tuned out.
"Kyla. Kyla! Are you listening? You're kinda spaced out right now."
"Sorry. My mind is… There's something I..." I was looking at my shoes, but looked up to see her staring at me, her expression was that of urging me to explain further. "Fuck it." I said in an almost whisper as I dropped the little bag I was carrying and grabbed her face with both hands and pulled us into a kiss. Her lips were so soft and tasted like strawberries. To me, that kiss lasted an hour, but I'm sure it was over in just a few seconds. When I pulled away she was frozen, as if my kiss stopped time but she never unfroze. "I'm sorry. You must hate…" I was cut off by her lips pressing against mine and I felt her tongue press against my lips seeking entrance to my mouth. I met her tongue with mine and we were two kids lost to the world.
It was a catcall from someone in a passing car that brought us back to reality and when we broke the kiss we both started giggling like… well, schoolgirls. When the giggles ended she grabbed my hand and said "Come on." as she pulled me along at almost a running pace.
When we got back to her house we went straight upstairs to her room. As soon as the door closed behind us our lips met again. Somehow we made it to the bed, and I was already missing my shirt, and a few minutes later she was pulling off my pants. I laid there, watching in awe as she straddled me, as she removed her shirt and then her bra. We kissed and fondled for a while and she ended up riding my face to orgasm. I remembered loving her dominance of me in that moment.
After she regained her senses, she returned the favor. My breath was caught and my heart was racing as she slid down my panties. I remember the electric jolt when her tongue first touched me. She had me screaming her name, my hands clenching blankets, pillows or her hair as she brought me to the peak over and over. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember being glad that her parents were at some sort of military party and not there to intrude, but I also remember not caring if we were caught, as I was lost in pleasure. I remember the mind shattering orgasm that I finally had. I'm pretty sure I passed out for a moment because the next thing I remember was her staring down at me, smiling.
I remember us coming out to our parents. Mine were first and they were very accepting. My dad even complimenting me on landing such a looker, which got an elbow to the ribs from my mom. Her parents were more understanding than she had thought, which relieved us immensely. I remember our sex life evolving, her taking a more dominant role and me being more than happy being more submissive. I remember looking up the meaning of her name and thinking how perfectly it fit her personality. Aisling Nessa Whalen translates to dream not gentle wolf. She really is like a dream come true for me, and while she can be extremely loving and caring, she can also have a mean streak to her and she's a demon in the sack and very predatory. I remember her taking me to a tattoo parlor as a graduation present. I got a heart with angel wings with her name across it, and my tongue and nipples pierced. She got a rose tattoo over her heart with the script of my name forming the stem. While my name came from my great grandma, who was half jewish, and means regal woman, in gaelic it translates to beauty and a rose symbolises that beauty.
A few weeks later we were off to college, we both got accepted to UCLA and are set to be sharing a dorm room. We were both happy to be setting off on our own while still having the security net of our parents being within a half days drive.
Author's note. This is the final chapter of this story. Thank you to everyone that has liked/commented. It's good to know that my work is being appreciated.
I had a brief reprieve from the flood of memories I was having and I was able to take stock of my situation. I was laying on my side, on the floor next to my bed… no, it's not my bed. It's a four post canopy bed with a dark pink comforter. The floor is all wrong too, it's a hardwood floor instead of the cheap, worn out carpet of my apartment. I roll over into my back and feel a weight on my chest, which causes me to sit up. The weight moves with me and I reach up to grab the weight and am met with a handful of breast… my breast. On the verge of panic I look down and indeed see two breasts taking up a good amount of my view, and a clean shaven pubic mound.
I scrambled to my feet and into the bathroom because I suddenly felt like I needed to throw up (don't ask how, but I instinctively knew where the bathroom was). I made it to the toilet just in time to keep from having a larger mess to clean up. After my stomach was done evacuating its contents, I went to the sink to clean out my mouth. Two toothbrushes, one pink and one purple, sat in a cup on the sink. I grabbed the pink one as if there was no need to question that decision.
It was when I was reaching for the toothpaste that I noticed the engagement ring on my finger. I was hit with a memory of going out to a fancy steakhouse, Ruth's Chris, with Aisling and both sets of our parents to celebrate our graduation from college, and Aisling getting down on one knee when she proposed. I know it was the happiest day of both our lives when I said yes. Then I thought of later that night and the sex we had. I went from smiling to the point of crying to grinning like a fox in a hen house.
I brushed my teeth and rinsed my face and then took full stock of my reflection. First, I was naked, save for the ring of course. My sparkling blue eyes were staring back at me. My raven hair was in a simple ponytail but looked to come down just past my shoulders. A few more tattoos were scattered across my body, but all kept in places that can be covered easily. My eyes lingered on my slit, and I watched my hand move to it through my reflection. For all the memories that I now had, none of them properly braced me for the reality, and soon (maybe it was longer than it seemed) my knees were buckling as I had an orgasm.
As a guy, once climax is achieved everything ends, but this body was craving more. I was on my way to the closet to retrieve a certain toy when I stubbed my toe on something hard and heavy. After shouting out a curse and hoping about a bit I picked up the offending item without thinking and gazed at my reflection once more. I watched in horror as my reflection grew younger. I tried to cry out, but I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I was powerless as the years rolled back. Eighteen, sixteen, two of the three piercings in my ears disappeared, fourteen, my last remaining piercings vanished. Everything went black and I felt myself falling.
I woke with my heart racing. I remembered I was falling. I felt wet so I got out of bed and turned on the light. That's when I saw the blood and screamed.
It was difficult at first, having two competing sets of memories of growing up, but slowly over time all of them faded to the point that I couldn't recall them any better than scenes from a movie I saw only once and years ago. Some of the memories I held onto as best I could, most of which were of Aisling, but after a few months I woke up and realised that I couldn't remember her face or the sound of her voice.
As the years went on I did make a few changes. I had no interest in boys, or sex with them. If Aisling were to enter my life again, I wanted to give her every bit of purity I could possibly give her. I did masturbate… a lot… but made sure to preserve my hymen. It was difficult at times, there being girls and even a few guys that made me weak in the knees, but I held out for my soul mate.
It was now my sophomore year and I was sitting in history class, not paying too much attention yet when the door opened and the secretary introduced a new student, her dad just transferring to Camp Pendleton. I looked up and saw her, just as beautiful as I remembered. She was asked to introduce herself.
"Hi, I'm Aisling. The name is Irish, so it's spelled weird. I like books, music, and I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time at the beach."
The teacher scanned the room and saw the only empty seats were either next to me, or in the back row which would put her by herself. "Why don't you take a seat next to Kyla. Kyla, do you mind showing her about until she gets her bearings?"
I gave her a smile and said "Sure! I'd love to." I hope I didn't sound too excited, or even worse scare her off.
We became friends immediately, and close friends quickly. A few things changed from how I remember them, like her being the one to kiss me first, but I wouldn't change anything. With college behind me, I've already got a job with a graphic design company and Aisling is going to law school. Our wedding is currently on hold while we wait for confirmation on her scholarships and grants to be approved, but we are hoping to have the ceremony next year during summer break. You may be wondering about the mirror. It actually broke after the last transformation. I don't know if I dropped it or if the magic in it just ran out, but either way I don't care. I have everything that I could possibly want, a fiance that loves me and who I adore. I do wonder about the note I read all those years ago, that everything has a price, and wonder what my price was. All I can think of are my parents from my first life. I do wonder about them sometimes, but I can't remember their names, or even the city I lived in. The only other price I can think I paid was my desire to perform magic. I tried getting back into it, but the desire just wasn't there anymore. Maybe the mirror needed magic to work and maybe it used up all of mine. But like I said, I wouldn't change a thing.