By FoxFaceStories

A Story Tier Prompt for TG Sorcerer

The Stage Show Supernaturale has hit the town, and the opening night has quite an audience. Little do the paying customers realise, however, that the magician possesses real power, and he’ll be transforming and humiliating people’s lives all for the amusement of his premium-paying elite customers!

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The Stage Show Supernaturale

Part 1: The Opener

The town of Westvale had not seen excitement in quite some time, so when news came that a grand magic show was heading to town soon, there was quite an excitement in the air. The Palace Theatre had not seen much business lately, but seemingly overnight there were posters everywhere advertising the coming ‘Stage Show Supernaturale’ and its talented magician René the Renowned, who looked like the most classical magician one could imagine; a man with a goatee and silver-grey hair, attired in a black tuxedo with a tailcoat design, a silver staff in one hand that also made him look like a ringmaster of a grand circus. He even had a tophat in the other hand, a white bunny emerging from the top. For a town like Westvale, which had craved entertainment for a while now, this was a true buzz generator, especially since it was advertised as ‘Adults Only’, with a promise that things would get a little saucy as well. The gorgeous looking magician’s assistants in their showy outfits and fishnet stockings only emphasised the sex appeal of the coming show.

So when the night of the show finally arrived on a Friday night, the stands were quickly packed at the Palace Theatre. Great posters of René the Renowned greeted them upon entry, though more than a few men were disappointed to find that there were no young and sexy magical assistants to greet them at the door, just the usual Palace Theatre workers on minimum wage. Still, there was something electric in the air as people settled into their seats. The front rows were quickly filled, followed by all the others, but the upper balcony rows, the ones that had the greatest view down over the proceedings, were all marked as ‘Reserved for Pre-Bookings.’ No one in town seemed to have booked those seats, and a few grumbles emanated from those hoping to grab the balcony rows when they saw who had apparently booked them well in-advance. They were out-of-towners, every one of them, and they looked rather wealthy at that. They were men and women of varying ages ranging from the early twenties to some who appeared to be on death’s door, and they were an impressive mix of different cultures and ethnicities as well. One thing they had in common, however, was a clear sense of refinery and entitlement. The suits and dresses this group wore would have been worth more than some of the yearly salaries in this town, and the million-dollar watches on their wrists, or the diamond jewellery that the women wore, put most of the country to shame with their exorbitant price tags. Each of these figures were smirking and looking around at the crowd rather than the stage, the eyes of this elite group hungry and amused, as if they knew something that the people of Westvale did not.

Which was entirely true, of course. René the Renowned had a very particular business model, and it was not one of a travelling magician who made his money doing cheap tricks that pleased the crowd in the cheap seats. Far from it, René was, in fact, the real thing. No one recognised the man as he moved towards those expensive seats, for he was not yet dressed up, and he covered his speckled silver hair with a simple worker’s cap. To most, he would have just looked like an usher helping manage the crowd. Instead, he was seeing to the desires of his true paying customers.

“Thank you as always for your patronage, my lovelies,” he said in a slick voice as he stood beside the Reserved crowd. “As always, I aim to give you a most wonderful show tonight.”

“And we are looking forward to it, René,” an older Caucasian man said. “Will we have a chance to make suggestions this time?”

“Indeed you will, good sir,” the magician replied. “Though I also hope to surprise you, and get some crowdwork to join in on some of the fanciful transformations as well.”

“Good!” a young woman declared. “I’ve only been to one other show of yours, René, but I adored the way you get their own peers and townsfolk to change them without their realising. The humiliation is intoxicating to witness.”

“I always aim to please my great patrons,” René said. “I have given you each a card in preparation for tonight’s events. If any of you wishes to claim one of the transformees, or decide a feature of a change, or even grant clemency by reversing a change, you need only raise your hand with the card into the air and I will snatch it with my magic and see that your will is done. After all, this is what you pay for, yes?”

“Indeed!” a dark-skinned man with a Nigerian accent proclaimed. “The most top dollar performance, René!”

“And perhaps some worthy additions to my harem,” an Arabic man noted, much to the amusement of those around him.

“Don’t discount a woman’s desires either, Emir,” a lady in a fine blue gown noted. “Our magician here knows that my tastes run rather . . . obscure. I look forward to taking home another prize pet.”

“Raise your card at the opportunity, and it shall be so!” René declared. “I wish you all the best evening. The show shall begin shortly, and I’m sure each of you can take a certain relish in the knowledge that none of those in the seats below are aware of just what kind of magic they are about to witness . . . or how it will change them!”

The premium patrons snickered and tittered at this, looking down at the crowd and speculating over who would be the poor unfortunate souls to be quite magically transformed this evening, and all for their benefit at that. Soon, however, the announcer’s voice came over the speakers, and the lights in the theatre dimmed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the time for pre-show snacks and drinks is over. Please finish moving to your seats, and be prepared to witness the greatest magic show that you will ever see. The show begins in two minutes.”

The crowd buzzed. The people of Westvale were excited, though others remained sceptical, and some others still were keen to find the holes in the magician’s performance and make a laugh of it. Some were still grumbling about being denied the best seats in their own town. Alex Lowery was most vocal about this. He was a man in his mid-forties, recently divorced from his wife Katelyn, and seemed to have a permanent redness on his otherwise pale features, perhaps a result of his endless griping and low-running, constant anger.

“Can’t believe those rich stiffs get all the good seats. This town is going to shit,” he mumbled. 

A few people tried to shush him, but he just glared over at them.

“What? A guy can’t express his opinion? I’ve lived in this town for forty-five years, and I have a right to a fucking say here, okay? Shut the hell up.”

A few more people murmured, and he could feel the tide moving against him, but his expression remained full of puffed-up male pride and anger. Little did Alex realise, but René was peeking through the curtain, trying to spy the first audience member to be the subject of his transformative magic, and he had just managed to catch Alex’s little outburst, which meant that his premium patrons had likely heard it below them too.

“Ah, he’s going to be perfect for my opener!” René declared.

The two minutes ended at the perfect time, and suddenly the stage lights circled. 

“And now, the greatest show you will ever see, give a warm welcome to the great, the magnificent, the revered and resplendent René the Renowned and his Stage Show Supernaturale!”

The crowd cheered and hollered as the curtains parted and the magician practically leapt onto the stage. As was usual for an opening, he performed all sorts of quick, flashy, and quite amusing tricks: fireworks exploding on stage at the swipe of a hand, sending streamers into the front rows, a rabbit pulled from his hat and then emerging from beneath his tuxedo jacket. Various stylish card tricks to impress the impressionable. All the standard stuff. Only when he was done and the audience laughter and clapping had died down did René extend his hands out, ready to speak.

“Thank you for coming to my grand show, everyone! The Stage Show Supernaturale has been running for ten years now, and I’m so very excited to bring it to you this evening. You may notice that many of my promotions emphasised that this would be an adults-only show, yes?”

There was a great cheer from certain segments of the crowd, leaving René to laugh.

“And you may have noticed that my promotions also displayed some very attractive female assistants. Did you notice that, fellas?”

The cheer grew louder, and some wolf whistles followed. René gestured around. “And yet, where are my lovelies? Where are my gorgeous female assistants? This is false advertising, it seems! I cannot begin my show without having at least one gorgeous assistant to distract you from the method of my tricks. Which is why I need a volunteer, my good audience! Or better yet, a volunteer that I will choose! You sir, you look like exactly the kind of person I’m looking for!”

He gestured, and a light swivelled to highlight the audience.

“Yes, you, the red-face fellow in row four! Yes, you, sir! No, don’t try to look away and pretend I mean someone else, I mean you! Come on up, sir! Come on up and help me summon my lovely new assistant. I promise it will get you a very, very tantalising kiss!”

Alex Lowery’s expression had been glum and somewhat humiliated, especially since some townsfolk were clearly amused that he of all people had been chosen, but with the promise of a tantalising kiss he perked up. He knew that his ex-wife Katelyn was in the audience somewhere, probably trying to find a new man already, so this would be a great way to show her up and score a kiss from a much younger, much hotter woman; a real leggy dame if one was to believe those posters.

“Fine, fine!” he declared as he walked up. “I’ll help.”

“The kiss always draws them in, folks!” René said with a laugh, and it seemed that the Reserved crowd up top laughed the hardest in response. Their eyes were hungry for what they knew was to come, but no one else did. Alex made his way awkwardly up on stage. He had a broad, tough look to him, but his face was still red, partly due to the embarrassment of being up on stage.

“Thank you for coming up,” René said. “Tell me, sir, what is your name and what do you do?”

“Um, I’m Alex. Alex Lowery. I run a concrete business. Have done so for the last twenty years.”

“Ah, concrete! What a perfect metaphor for what we are about to do, Alex! You see, we need to mould something, shift it around a little, keep it loose and soft until we get it into the shape we want, and then . . . voila! We shall let it set into a new assistant. Does that sound good to you?”

Alex looked at the audience and tried not to frown too much. “Should be fine.”

“You’ll get a kiss at the end of it, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yeah, tantalising,” he said, which got a snicker from the crowd. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I’m sure any regret will be outweighed by the joy of bringing a new assistant to life! Can you step into this chamber for me, please?”

Alex was about to ask what chamber, when suddenly a transparent chamber, cubed in shape, lowered down from above, suspended by a thick black hose of sorts. 

“Just stand right on that X, Alex! Don’t worry, you won’t be in there for too long, my wonderful volunteer!”

The man was a bit sheepish, but he stood there as the case hovered over him, then went to the ground. René flicked a wrist, and several locks suddenly latched upon its base, fixing it in place. It was only a little wider than Alex was, and just one foot taller too. Looking up, he could see that the hose that suspended it was several inches wide and quite long.

“I always know how to pick them, because we really will be using concrete now!” René declared. “I was going to use marble, you know, but how could I resist such a magnificent improv! Are you ready, Alex?”

“R-ready for what!?” the man barked, his voice muffled inside the chamber.

“For a concrete example of magic, of course!” the magician declared, and then he clicked his fingers. Suddenly, a machine far above the stage whirred, and Alex looked up at the worst possible time as an entire flood of soft concrete mix splattered him right in the face.

“Agh! WHAT THE F-MHMPHH!!”

He couldn’t get a word out, because it kept on coming, slapping against his face and then dripping down his shirt. The audience was shocked, but after a moment they began to laugh and laugh and laugh. No one really liked Alex Lowery, even his friends. He liked to rip everyone off when it came to the price of his concrete jobs, but no one else in town could match what he offered. So it was a wonderful irony that he was now being covered in it. Soon, however, the crowd began to grow concerned (not the Reserve seats though, who remained laughing and speculating on what was to come). The concrete was quickly filling up the chamber entirely, and Alex was struggling to move. The man was in a panic; the concrete was even getting in his mouth and his ears and it was setting far, far faster than any ordinary such substance ever should.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, this is all part of the magic!” René declared.

Still, the crowd had fallen to a shocked hush as the chamber finished filling. At a gesture from the magician, the locks of the chamber were undone, and the chamber was raised up, leaving just a concrete figure in place. It looked somewhat like a blobby, slightly runny Alex Lowery, a man encased in cement and reaching out for help that would never come.

“Hmmm, this doesn’t look like an assistant, does it? What a problem! I think we might need to try and chip away at this issue, hmm?”

At this, René suddenly produced what looked like an icepick. “Yes, I also considered using ice, my friends, but don’t worry, it’ll work on our concrete friend! Let’s rework him into a masterpiece, shall we?”

The crowd watched in awe as the artful magician began to chip away at the concrete impression of Alex Lowery. He began small at first, chiselling at the fingers and feet, and slowly began to expand his scale, making larger marks that removed the rivers of concrete and then went deeper into the very shape of the man. He tapped at the waist of the man, causing an entire sheet of concrete to spill and crack upon the floor.

“Whoops! Looks like our Alex will be a little thinner at the waist! That’s okay! We’ll let him keep some excess in the hips and chest instead!”

Soon, the crowd began to murmur in excitement. It was clear what René was doing: he was crafting a far more womanly shape out of the concrete figure. He quickly chipped away at the rest of the waist, leaving it thin and even marking a cute bellybutton in, and then he gave the hips and buttocks a rounded look from the excess material. When he got to the chest, he gave a smirk before applying himself, and within moments he was artfully sculpting a pair of lovely pert breasts, perhaps D-cups in size, while outlining a sexy female waistcoat that outlined said pair of breasts and the cleavage from the obvious dip. He formed a little bowtie at the neck, and worked so rapidly upon the legs that people began to gasp out loud.

“He’s forming fishnet stockings!” Harriet Seltzer said in an astonished voice. “How remarkable!”

“Not as remarkable as the hair we’re going to give our lovely future lass! Are you okay in there, Alex? If it even is you still inside there?”

The magician laughed, the audience now clearly seeing this as an elaborate trick, but Alex was in fact still in there, and still unable to move. He was horrified as to what was happening to him; he could literally feel his flesh being resculpted, as if he were actually made of concrete right now, and René the Renowned was remaking him bit by bit. He tried to struggle and scream, but his body was purely inanimate, and he could only hear the laughter and excitement of the crowd as his body was incredibly petite yet curvaceous, with long legs and a full bust and hair going down his back. It made Alex want to scream and cry, but all he could do was wait until-

“Voila!” René declared to the audience. “The first true magic of the Stage Show Supernaturale! What do we think of her, folks?”

The concrete figure was that of an enthusiastic, bright-eyed beauty in a waist coat that bared her midriff and showed off some lovely cleavage. Her pants were little more than a set of underwear that gave way to fishnet stockings and high heels, and a collar around her throat had a cute little bowtie to add to the magician theme.

“Ah, she’s a bit stiff, isn’t she?” René said, looking up at the Reserved crowd. “Shall we get her moving?”

It was actually a genuine question, and to his delight the majority of the elite patrons gave their thumbs up, desiring to see Alex’s reaction to his new state. René chuckled, then quickly fetched a large pail of water.

“Everyone, say hello to Alexis, my lovely new assistant. Let’s get her ready, shall we? Abra, kadabra, ALAKAZAM!”

He threw the bucket of water over the statue, and the crowd gasped and cheered as the concrete surface immediately washed off of her surface, leaving a real human woman standing before the crowd. She wore a purple waistcoat and pants, and her fishnets were purple also. Her hair was a dark red, long and luscious, though not nearly so luscious as her legs. Her breasts heaved with each breath, and the new woman could only look over her body in utter horror and confusion. Alexis Lowery clutched her head, barely able to believe that she was now a petite and leggy dame in a magical assistant’s sexy getup.

“Say hello to the crowd, Alexis!” the magician declared.

Alexis looked up at the audience, still overwhelmed. Katelyn was dying of laughter and taking photos of the ‘performance.’

“Are you going to say hello, Alexis?” René repeated.

The new woman looked over herself, then back up at the crowd, her mouth working but no sound escaping.

And then she screamed.

Lately I have been in the mood for some public humiliation with a bad ending! I was thinking maybe a stage magician show where a couple (and maybe a few more people if we want to make it a serial) volunteer to go on stage, only to find that the magician possesses real power, and that his show is actually a facade for the real thing where he ruins peoples lives using a mix of hypnosis and transformation magic for the amusement of an elite circle who pay premium for the supernatural entertainment. Let me know if that works for you!

To Be Continued . . .