Contents: original content, w/w, cryptid (?) pregnancy, nb(?)preg, sexual & kink awakening
Story written by my partnerRoseVirage, uploaded with her consent.
Proof Readers: Rahheemme&Doombeez

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Act 2

Rosemary

When they entered a cozy corner in the hotel’s lounge, Melodie guided Mary to a sofa. She gladly  followed her lead, her behavior was naturally confident, even dominant, in a very pleasant way. It made it easy for Mary to comply.

The Magician took a seat in front of her, now presenting her wondrous, yet intriguing body in full view.

Mary had to look away. Both to her delight and displeasure, the whole lounge was covered in mirrored walls (decorated with additional mirrors for good measure), so that the woman’s reflection showed perfectly inside them, in many different perspectives, almost intentionally. Mary could take a good look at her without staring directly.

Melodie, however, was not ashamed to keep her eyes on Mary, in a poised way. 

“What can I get you?” she asked, completely ignoring the fact that Mary initiated the meetup.

“Any strong but sweet cocktail will do,” she answered, completely forgetting the fact herself.

The woman turned towards the waiter close to her and said, “Excuse me, garçon, one Golden Cadillac for the young lady here, and your Gin card, please.”

‘Garçon’, Mary thought. Not only was her look and car old fashioned, but her way of talking, too.

“I’m not a big fan of gin” Mary commented shyly. 

“That’s quite alright, love. I am.”

Mary stared at her in disbelief. She couldn’t help but to blatantly look at her clearly pregnant body after such a statement.

“Is something the matter?” Melodie asked, an amused look on her face.

Mary didn’t know how to react. She felt like a software that just faced an unknown error.

“But … you … shouldn’t you … not drink right now…?” she stuttered, confused.

“And why is that?” Melodie’s answer was relaxed, but curious and maybe a little provoking.

Mary started to sweat, glancing over to her presenting belly again, then in her face.

“I … Aren’t you … I mean ….”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry if - I  … I, uh -”

Since there was music running in the background Mary wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard the Magician chuckle. She must have decided to not tortue Mary anymore, because she eventually said: “If it makes you feel better, I’ll gladly just take a cup of tea.”

Unable to answer, Mary just nodded, utterly confused. The woman didn’t act like she was pregnant at all, which made Mary think that she probably wasn’t - despite the huge, obvious evidence bulging out in front of her, that was equivalent to the body of a maybe a pregnant woman in her seventh or eighth month. Yet, Melodie did nothing to clear up any confusion. If anything, she seemed to be playing with Mary, and maybe even enjoying it. 

When the “Garçon” came back with that cocktail she had never heard of before and a drink menu, Melodie ordered a cup of rooibos tea, much to Mary’s relief.

While the magician poured milk and sugar - a lot of sugar - into her cup, Mary took the chance to look at her again.

Could it really be that she was something like… just… bloated? Or maybe an illness? Maybe it was a prosthetic for shows of some sorts? But maybe, foremost, it was none of Mary’s business in the first place, and she should neither assume, nor interfere.

What… what was she doing here, anyway? What did she expect to happen? She clearly hadn’t been able to think straight since the moment she first saw the magician on stage.

She was a boring girl, nothing special about her. She was way too dutiful to be interesting. She was a no-name next to such a star. Not even her body was what most people would consider exciting, being small and neither thin nor muscular. All of the sudden, she felt like such a wallflower. A dumb one on top of that, for getting involved in such a situation.

“You are more special than you think,” Melodie commented quietly while pouring what must’ve been her 4th packet of sugar into the tea.

Mary looked at her in shock. This was the second time Melodie has reacted accordingly to Mary’s thoughts. Now she was almost certain that the magician could read minds. 

Melodie raised her eyes and looked directly into Mary’s. Only now did she realize that they were of an intensely brown color, almost appearing red.

“You seem uncomfortable and insecure all of a sudden, unlike a moment before. Would you prefer we end our date now? My apologies if I have made you feel anything other than welcome.”

Date? Another shiver.
Mary lifted her hands conciliatorily.

“No, it was nothing you did. You’re just … so stunning and amazing. I feel like a nobody.”

The magician’s face was struck with a sudden, afflicted look. She reached out and touched Mary’s hand. Despite her wearing gloves, the contact felt intense and sent little bolts of lighting through Mary’s nerve tracts.

“It pains me to hear that. Please, don’t let either my appearance nor my status be in our way of communication, or of your worth. I assure you, you are somebody very special.”

Her heart pounded so loud that Mary was afraid her companion would be able to hear it.

“How could a woman like you find me special…?”

To her regret, Melodie withdrew her hand. Though not in anger, but to take a sip of her sugary milk with a hint of tea.

“A woman?“ she asked interestedly.

Mary froze. 

“Very peculiar. Most women see me as a man.”

The gears in Mary’s head seemed jammed and unable to properly process that new information. But despite being still overwhelmed by the situation, and much to her own surprise, she found the words to riposte: “So you see me as a woman, too?” 

“Touché,” Melodie said, smiling approvingly. “So would you prefer me to not see you as a woman?”

Something about the magician calling her “a woman” made Mary crave for… something. It touched her, again in a way she didn’t fully understand. She wanted to be a woman, for her, more than anything.

“Please do,” she answered. Maybe a touch too demanding. “And… how should I refer to you, then…?” she quickly added.

“Whatever you want. I don’t care much about gender, my dear.” Melodie answered. “I am whatever you want me to be. If you see me as a woman, then by all means, do so. It’s quite interesting, to be frank.”

Mary stared at the magician. What a strange mindset. But… how could somebody think of her as a man? Sure, she had a rather deep voice. And she was in a showbiz genre almost entirely dominated by men. She wore typical male clothes, no make-up, and now that she thought about it, she did seem to have a very small bust, if any at all. In fact… now that Mary stopped and looked, really looked, there were many hints that could make people think of her as a man. Actually, the only thing that was explicitly feminine about her was her haircut: a short, greyish-brown bob. But what about her belly? Or… might it be that it was actually some sort of, well… potbelly, like some men have? That would explain at least her - or his, or their - strange behavior.

“I see that you need a bit of time to mull things over. So I propose that we end our date.“ Melodie gently observed. Maybe it was a trick to the ear or mind, but her - his? - voice sounded more femine to Mary all of a sudden.

Her heart sank. She was indeed overwhelmed, but not ready to let go of the Magician yet, probably to never see her again. See him again. Damn it, this was confusing.

“…To pick it up again at another time, if you’re willing,.” Melodie added.

Mary’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.

“Yes, please.”

Melodie nodded. “It would be my honor. How about next Sunday, if you’re still in Vegas? Though I have one demand.” She looked at her, and the stern look on her face indicated that what she was about to say was important. “Promise me to not feel anything other than worthwhile and important because of me. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“I promise,” Mary answered, and to her surprise, she meant it.

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If you enjoyed this and want to read more (there are 11 acts right now, a new act will be posted every week) you can find it on my P★treon!! Starting on the Tier 3+.

Contents: original content, w/w, cryptid (?) pregnancy, nb(?)preg, sexual & kink awakening
Story written by my partnerRoseVirage, uploaded with her consent.
Proof Readers: Rahheemme&Doombeez

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Act 1

Rosemary

When the magician appeared on stage through an imposing explosion of sparkling fog, the crowd gasped, and so did Mary. Not just because of the presentation, but also something else; The magician’s middle didn’t quite suit the rest of her slender, elegantly dressed body. It clearly and unmistakably bulged out. Since Mary had never heard of this “Melody of the Stars” show before her father had gifted her the tickets, she didn’t really expect anything. And yet she found herself surprised that a clearly pregnant woman would put on a magic show at a Las Vegas stage.

Mary couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight. She knew female magicians were rare to begin with, even rarer those who dressed in old fashioned magician style - tailcoat tuxedo with purple applications, white blouse, purple bowtie and cumberbund, tophat, cape with a sparkling inner lining, again in purple - but she never even thought about a pregnant magician before.

Something in Mary reacted in awe of this notion. Something she didn’t yet understand.

And then, for a brief moment, as if this Magician had detected her feelings out of the hundreds of people in this hall, their eyes met. It was just for a second, while she was presenting some items on a table, but Mary was sure. The magician was looking directly at her. And not only that - she even smiled. Mysteriously, almost knowingly.

Mary’s heart pounded stronger. It couldn’t be. It was a trick of the eye. After all, that’s what magicians do, right?

From this point on Mary was in some sort of trance for the whole performance. She found herself utterly enchanted, not only by the unbelievably impressive tricks of sorts she had never seen before, but by the performer herself. She only noticed the show’s end when everyone stood up and clapped frantically, accompanied by loud cheering screams.

Right before the heavy velvet curtains fell, the magician bowed - and lifted her head to throw one last smirk at Mary.

Only then did the spell break, giving Mary a sense of herself and others again. 

Dear lord, she thought and laid a hand on her chest, feeling her heavy pounding heart. It was almost like she truely bewitched had bewitched her.

Though before she could give this any other thought, the crowd was getting excited again.

“She’s waiting outside!” somebody yelled, and seemingly everyone was pushing towards the front exits. It seems that the magician had her fair share of fans, both men and women, who were not short of acting like teenagers at a boy band concert. 

Well. One way or another, it certainly seemed that not only Mary had been enchanted by her. Maybe this utter fascination was something everyone experienced during her shows. 

Still, Mary wasn’t having any of it. She didn’t want to shake her hand or grab an autograph; this sort of glorification felt strange and dehumanizing to her. Especially when she would have to fight her way through many people who probably would bite her hand off if she got too close to their… queen of magic or whatever. So Mary scanned for other exits that weren’t cluttered with chattering, excited humans.

She found another one of the familiar green lighting signs close to the stage. Probably more of an emergency exit, but considering that mountain of bodies behind her that almost felt like a mass panic, the situation came rather close to an emergency anyway.

Mary took her bag and cardigan and proceeded to leave the hall through said exit. The heavy metal door closed behind her and cloaked the small, undecorated corridor in blessed silence. 

She took a deep breath. Finally, she now could focus on her thoughts and feelings and start to process the whole experience. 

First off she needed to find out more about that magician lady. She opened her bag and looked for her smartphone, while heading towards the end of the hallway, another door clearly labeled with “EXIT”. Just as she found it, she bumped into something.

Mary took a step back and immediately recognized those familiar curves, especially the one particular curve that she could barely keep her eyes off for the entirety of the show. She looked up, and there was the rest of the magician, too, looking at her with mysterious but curious eyes. This time, she was not smiling. Instead, her unpainted, natural lips were a little apart, formed in an expression of surprise. 

The woman was taller than she seemed on stage. At least taller by a head than Mary. Her tophat made her look even more impressive in size. Up close, Mary now also noticed a little cute mole next to her lips. Then she saw the big trunk in her left hand, and a beautifully-crafted cane topped with a snake’s head in her other. Snakes seemed to be her favorite animal, because there were many snake related details in her outfit, too.

“Why aren’t you with the others? How did you know I was here?” she asked, and the sound of her voice sent chills down Mary’s spine. It was way deeper than she would have guessed. Very androgynous, too. If Mary had heard that voice in a podcast, she wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was that of a man or a woman. Another thing that stood out to her was an accent that she couldn’t quite place. Her “R”s were rather hard and she spoke with an interesting singsong.

“I didn’t,” Mary answered truthfully, but her own voice came out shallow. 

Now the magician smiled, and it was even more beautiful and possessing up close.

“Oh, really?” was all she commented, clearly amused. 

The magician looked at her for a moment, as if she was inspecting her. Mary could feel her heart beating in her throat. Being examined like this by this clearly imposing woman did peculiar things to her she didn’t understand. Suddenly, she felt nothing more than the desire to please this mysterious mistress’s eyes. To appeal. 

Mary gulped. She’d never had thoughts like that before.

Before she could say anything else, they both were startled by the sound of an opening door behind Mary, followed by the loud murmur of the crowd from the hall that was now flowing into the once silent corridor.

The magician quickly reached out with her cane, pointing the snake-head handle towards the door, making it slammed closed all by itself. 

Mary gasped. 

“That won’t hold them for long.” the woman commented, now a little frantic, “It was a sublime pleasure to meet you, love. But I have to dash. Unless you need a ride home?”

“I do” Mary answered like a shot before she even realized what she said.

The magician smiled another of her enchanting smiles, then took a step back to let Mary pass.

“Why, I would like nothing better than to do so, dearest. Please, after you. And be swift.”

Mary nodded and quickly headed towards the exit, opening the door to one of Las Vegas’ still very loud, very bright back alleys. 

“My car is on the right.” the woman instructed her, while doing something to the exit door Mary couldn’t quite make out. “The old-timer. Take a seat wherever you want.”

The car was unmissable. Mary wasn’t exactly a pro regarding classic cars, but this one looked way older than the usual broken down mustangs she’d think of when hearing “old-timer”. Maybe something from 1930, or even older. It was a long, black car with some white details. Feeling the magician’s hustle, she quickly entered the car on the passenger side. The woman quickly followed on the other side, again looking at her curiously. 

“This seat, ey? Interesting.”

Again, this deep voice. This accent. This concern. Mary suddenly felt hot.

The magician started the car and left the back alley. As soon as they were in the clear, she visibly began to relax.

Only now Mary realized that she was actually sitting in a stranger’s car. Somebody she didn’t even know the name of. That, for sure, was nothing she would ever even dreamed about doing. Her father raised her to be cautious. To always be home on time. She never even had any boyfriends during her school days, at least the ones where she had actually been to school. Always the good girl. And now this?

“This must be all very sudden and new to you,” said the woman next to her, again, as if she could read her mind.

Mary looked at her, then had to avert her gaze. Her perfectly round belly seemed even bigger in this seating position, and was so close, too. It did things to her she didn’t dare to think about. Especially not in this woman’s presence.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can stop for you to leave, dear.”

“No!” Mary exclaimed, a little too loudly. Then she cleared her throat and added, “It’s fine, really. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. Where should I take you?”

“The Bellagio, please.”

The woman whistled. 

“Nice stay. Expensive, but fantastic hotel. Beautiful botanics. Not far from here, too.”

She took an immediate turn and set the new course without any navigation, showing that she knew these streets rather well.

“So, may I know the name of my passenger?”

“Rosemary,” Mary answered, quickly and unthinkingly. She usually never introduced herself with a full name, since she wasn’t really a fan. Some people never found out that she was actually called that. Why did she say that?

“Beautiful.”

Mary blushed. Hearing this was a first.

“A-and yours…?” she asked in turn.

The magician laughed at first, then, when Mary didn’t join in, looked at her surprised and said “Wait, you really don’t know?”

The girl shook her head, embarrassed. It only now occurred to her that it was probably very impolite to not know the name of the star of the show she just watched, let alone when said star was chauffeuring her through town.

“But it’s even in the name of the show. You surely must’ve at least taken a look on your ticket, right?”

“Melody of the Stars?” Mary asked sheepishly.

“The one and only, love. Technically, Melodie van de Sterren, though feel free to refer to my name in English.”

Dutch. That was a Dutch name. That explained the woman’s adorable accent.

“I must say, you’re a curious companion. I assume this was your first show of mine then, yes? What did you think of it?”

“It was hypnotizing,” Mary answered truthfully. She was afraid to say any more than that, partially because she wasn’t yet too sure herself.

Melodie didn’t push her, but Mary felt like she was expecting to hear more than that. To distract, Mary asked: “That trick in the hallway… How did you do that?”

The Magician lowered her hand, and for a moment, Mary - for some reason - could feel her excitement rising, because it looked like she was going to touch her curved belly. Instead, she put it on the stick shift to change gears. Oof. Why on earth did Mary focus so much on that?

“Now, my dear, even though this was your first magic show, you do know that you don’t ask a magician their tricks, no?”

Mary blushed. Of course she knew. But that wasn’t on stage. That was a sudden, unexpected thing happening backstage. 

“Y-yes, but -”

“We’re here.” Mary was cut off as the car slowed to a halt.

Raising her eyes, Mary recognized the Bellagio’s impressive front.

But she didn’t want this to end. She wanted to find out more about that cryptic lady, and wanted her to stay close to her. At least for a little while. Maybe she should do a sudden change to a hotel outside Vegas, so that their ride would take longer? 

She scolded herself for even thinking something like that.

Melodie opened her mouth to say something, but this time Mary interrupted her. “Can I invite you to a cup of coffee, maybe?” she blurted out. Then, a second later, covered her mouth with one of her hands, surprised about her boldness.

The magician had a baffled look on her face. She probably didn’t expect Mary to be this brave and forthcoming. Then she smiled, not answering at first but then pulling out a pocket watch, attached with a little string to her jacket pocket, checking it. Who still has one of those nowadays?

“It’d be my pleasure, dear” she finally answered.

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If you enjoyed this and want to read more (there are 11 acts right now, a new act will be posted every week) you can find it on my P★treon!! Starting on the Tier 3+.

Fever Dream

(This may not have happened. But it’s definitely possible it did)

When I was in college, I had a secret crush on a girl. We’ll call her Arlynn. She was about 5’7”, with dark brown hair and big green eyes. She was bold and brash and incredibly busty. Busty in the sense that her breasts seemed a bit too large for her frame. Not that it mattered. I always thought she was a hottie, but she seemed to be out of reach for me. She was wild. I was terribly socially awkward. Except when I was directing plays. This becomes important later.

Arlynn and I met in a dramaturgy class. The professor assigned us two plays and broke us into groups, where we would then break it all down, research the background of the plays and build scenes based on that. Arlynn and I happened to be in a group together, with four other students. We would meet outside of class to work and it became clear that Arlynn and I disagreed on a lot of things. We butted heads often. Generally, if she had a rebuttal for me, she would look at me, arch her eyebrows and practically cut me with her eyes before speaking. It was incredibly disarming.

In spite of that, I still had the hots for her. Winters in upstate New York tend to be oppressively cold and she tended to dress in all black, but I’d often imagine what she looked like underneath, her breasts bursting out of a bra—we’ll say the thought of that crossed my mind many times while I was masturbating late at night. Nonetheless, I was pretty certain she hated me.

One day, she said something to me at the beginning of class. At the time, I had very long hair, slightly past my shoulders.

“You’d look really good with short hair,” she said to me.

I didn’t think much of it, although when I went home for Spring Break, I did cut my hair very short. Not because of anything Arlynn said, I just got tired of having long hair.

The first time I saw her back at school, she said to me with a wink, “Hey—love the haircut!” The weather had warmed up and while she was still dressing in all black, her thick turtlenecks had been replaced by more cleavage-revealing tank tops and tight t-shirts. We were still meeting in groups outside of class, and maybe Arlynn seemed to be…I don’t know…less argumentative? I couldn’t really describe it. I also didn’t want to read much into it.

We’d developed this scene as a group, and I’d been picked to direct. The rest of the group were performing. There was a particular moment where it called for her character to mirror another character. I’d experimented with a few different actions. One of them was a bit of crude tap dancing. Arlynn dancing…was a bit dangerous. Her breasts were bouncing and shaking around to the point where I found myself silently wishing they’d pop out of her tank top.

One day, after class, our group was leaving the lecture hall. One of the other students in our group was talking about going to see their significant other.

“And what are you doing tonight?” Arlynn asked me, in a kind of a pointed tone. “Seeing your girlfriend?”

“No…” I replied. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m probably just going to smoke with my roommates.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you were a pothead,” she said to me, even more pointedly. “Very interesting.”

I shrugged. Suddenly, she grabbed me around the shoulders and hopped on my back. I was momentarily stunned.

“Am I making you uncomfortable??” she said. The shock of her accosting me, and the feeling of her breasts mashed against my back left me momentarily speechless.

“Um…no…” I peeped.

“We should smoke together sometime,” she said as she hopped off of me.

“I’m down for it.”

***

It was a Saturday afternoon and our group had met in the Theater building to work on our scene. I was giving notes at the end of rehearsal. I had a note for Arlynn. As I was speaking to her, she stepped to the front of the stage. She put her hand on her hip and shifted her body just slightly. I looked up at her. She seemed to tower over me—I did all I could to try and look at her face as I spoke to her, but it was difficult looking past her breasts. I could only hope she simply didn’t care if I looked at her breasts, because there was no way she didn’t notice.

We were finishing up. Arlynn approached me.

“Wanna smoke?” she whispered.

I nodded.

We left the theater building through a side door that led to a secluded area of campus, by a parking garage that was mostly empty. We sat on the ground with our backs against the building. She lit a joint, took a puff and held her breath, her breasts rising and stretching out her tank top. She passed the joint to me and I took a hit.

She exhaled.

“Do you like me?” she said as I held my breath. I paused. Her forwardness was slightly intimidating. Her question hung in the air for what seemed like ten minutes. Maybe ten seconds had passed before I exhaled and passed the joint back to her. I opened my mouth, but she spoke again.

“You totally like me,” she said with a wicked look in her eye. “Admit it.”

She took another hit and passed the joint back to me.

“Yes…” I said slowly. I wasn’t quite certain where she was leading me with this. But I was feeling quite turned on.

I took a long drag off the joint. I hoped the high would kick in soon and I’d feel a little more at ease. Arlynn stared daggers at me as she tugged on one of the shoulder straps of her tank top.

“Would you like to see more of me?” she said as she leaned towards me.

I took another hit. I was starting to feel a gentle wave of high sweeping over me. I looked at Arlynn. She slipped the shoulder straps of her tank top off…then slipped her arms out of her bra. Her skin was pale, stark in contrast to her dark hair, and her breasts burst forth. They were very much as impressively large as they appeared under the constraints of her bra. Her areolae were big, and light colored. Her nipples were small. The left one was pierced.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Touch me.”

I reached out and cupped her breasts in my hand. They were firm, with just a slight bit of squish to them. I slid my thumbs around her nipples and flicked the ring on her piercing. She gasped.

“Are you hard for me?” she said, as she reached for my pants. “Mmm, you are.”

She took a puff off the joint, then handed the last nub back to me. By this point we were both feeling its effects. I shifted myself so I was lying more on the ground. My face was at eye level with her breasts.

“Bite it,” she said. “Bite my nipple.”

I obliged. I gently ran my teeth around her piercing and ran my tongue around it. She undid my belt and stuck her hand down my pants. I felt her fingers grip my cock and she started sliding her hand up and down…up and down…the sensation…was electric…and I felt like I was going to explode right then and there…

She rolled onto me, pushing me on my back and climbing astride my left leg. Her hand remained down my pants. Her breasts hung down in my face. I was absentmindedly sucking on her pierced nipple and rubbing her other nipple between my fingers. She tugged on my cock harder and harder. She pressed her breasts into my face, practically burying me in her cleavage.

I could hold on no longer. I let out a guttural groan which vibrated against her breast as I came, shooting my load into her hand…and my pants…Arlynn continued to tug until she’d drained it all out of me. She sat up, pulled her hand out of my pants and turned to me.

“Did you enjoy that?” she said. “Was it fun for you?”

I nodded.

“I enjoyed it as well.”

She started to re-dress herself.

***

My tryst with Arlynn was brief. And it didn’t happen again. We would see each other in class, but there were no further entreaties or invitations. It might have been just as well. Or not. The semester ended, we moved on, and I was left with the sense memory of her magnificently large breasts hanging in my face.

***

It was many years later. We’d graduated and moved on. Eventually we found each other on social media. We had both gotten married.

One day, out of nowhere, I got a message from her.

“Hey, look what I found!” she wrote.

It was a photo of the script of the scene we’d worked on, with some notes scribbled on it. Among them my name and phone number.

I responded kindly. Out of curiosity, I looked at her social media to see what she’d been up to.

Turned out she had two kids. I scrolled through her photos a bit and, sure enough, found some pictures of her when she was pregnant. She was…very round. Both in her belly and in her breasts. That little bit of sense memory suddenly came flooding back to me…her breasts in my back…on my face…in my mouth…I wondered if her nipple was still pierced. I wondered how breastfeeding would have worked for her.

But I kept my mouth shut. Some things are best left as enjoyable memories.