Wand Book and Candle Part 1
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Wand, Book And Candle, Part 5 free porn video
Wand, Book and Candle, Part 5
By Elliot Reid
A scorching plain of fine white mica lay beneath an obsidian sky. Above
it hung the Moon, wreathed in flame. Before me hovered a figure I did not
recognize, pale and cold. It looked nothing like my father and yet I knew
it was him.
"Why do feel these things?" I asked the specter. "Why do I want to
mutilate my girlfriends?"
"The wand asserts itself," the ghost said, its voice dry as a library.
"The what?"
"The wand. Your old self. The man you were."
"The wand?" I mouthed the words. Then comprehension dawned. "You mean my
dick?"
"Yes. Your masculinity. Your will to dominate." The figure's lips did not
move.
The spirit's eyes were dark sockets inside which stars could be seen. Its
gaze speared me with a glacier chill.
"What can I do, dad?"
"I don't know," said the shade of my father, its voice a shrug. "Here at
the edge of creation I lack the knowledge."
He paused, then with a pained voice said: "This place is destroying me. I
must go."
I could see the blazing white desert take its toll on my father. His
spirit was shrinking, cracking, threatening to implode. If he lingered
too long he'd never return.
"Go, Dad. Go!" I willed him to leave this plane and return to his body in
the meat world. I prayed he go back in the room with the ritual candles
where he lay on the Sephiroth chalked on the floor.
The shade of my dad flickered and started to fade.
"Dad, I'll be okay on my own!"
The ghost hesitated, but a new voice sang across the heavens.
"SHE SHALL NOT BE ALONE."
Another figure coalesced out of stars and space, colossal, bountiful,
filled with life, all woman. I didn't recognize it, and yet I knew who it
was.
It was Abi, my dad's girlfriend.
The specter of my father sighed and disappeared.
Abi was all love, immense and embracing. She filled the space around me,
encompassing me. I could smell her, a mother smell, smooth and soft.
"Your father can't exist here," she whispered, in a not-voice that echoed
through the universe. "This is not a realm for men. They are diminished
here."
When I replied it was not in words, but in image-feelings. These were
concepts, base and primal, flickering in the space between us.
"I can't go on any farther," I told her. "The Moon is out of reach."
I looked up at the silver disk. It was so close, as if I could touch it
on tippy-toe.
"The wand prevents you, it anchors you to the Earth," said Abi. The wand
was a symbol, but the image of it in my mind multiplied into complex
themes, a butterfly kaleidoscope of images about my head. It was a
metaphor for a weapon, of course. But it was also a shield, as well as a
tool, a symbol of dominance, of majesty, of the will.
And of the male member. Never forget that.
Something bound the wand to the dirt and the clay of the Earth. But I
wanted to fly up into the sky, to touch the Moon, to dive beneath its
seas of dust, become the light.
"How do I free myself of it?" I cried, desperate to reach the silver orb
above me.
Yes, how DO I free myself of my masculinity?
"Why," said Abi. "You gift it to someone else, of course!"
*
"Was that all a dream?" Meghan asked me, of my encounter in the Other
Place.
"Yes, sort of. It's complex."
We sat crossed-legged on the bed in my room, almost touching, a yellow
light from the window bathing the space. It was comfortable. I could hear
the dull noises of mom moving about below. She was baking. She did a lot
of baking these days.
"I don't understand all these references to the Kabbalah," said Meghan.
"Neither do I," I said. "But I don't need to. They are like desktop icons
on a computer; shortcuts to applications. This is how magic works."
"So, you're a magician?"
"Magician, shaman. Yeah, I guess so."
I paused. I was trying to find the words to explain how this all worked.
I began with something simple.
"Do you know why people don't know about real magic?"
"No, go on."
"Well, you've seen yourself how magic changes the universe, from what it
was to something new. No-one notices, except those in proximity. The
adept can sense the changes. But the greater world is oblivious."
"So, magic stays secret because nobody notices the changes."
"That's exactly right. Though sometimes it bleeds through, as ghosts, as
demonic possession, as visions to the sensitive."
Meghan made an 'Oh' with her mouth. Her fingers reached out and
interlaced mine. Her thumb absently stroked my index finger. I needed
that physical contact right now. I felt constantly on the verge of
bursting into tears.
"Look, magic, at its most basic, is conceptual," I went on, holding in
the emotion that threatened to unravel me. "It's ideas, images, words.
The nearest thing to a shaman is a writer or an artist. Magic is," I
paused. "It is the world shaped by the imagination."
I tilted my head back, to focus on the microfine cracks on the ceiling.
My eyes in this hot woman's body had perfect acuity. I could divine an
entire universe of detail in the texture of plaster and paint.
"Look," I said, dipping my eyes to gaze into Meghan's. "Think of the
terms we use for magic: grimoire means a spellbook, but it shares a root
with the word for grammar. And as for magic? We spell it. Magic is words,
because words shape consciousness!"
"I think I get it," said Meghan. "I mean, we all know how media can shape
events with language."
"God, yes" I interjected. "Propaganda is one of the most powerful forms
of magic we know. We can use it to change people's perceptions, make new
realities. Well-chosen words can transform your next door neighbor from
kindly Mister Hernandez into a dangerous immigrant who must be deported.
With a few 'alternate facts' from the right wordsmith we can make a
peaceful nation lust for war."
"So your magic is just one step on from this? From changing perceptions
with words to changing physical reality?"
"Sort of," I said. "Where does perception stop and reality begin? I'll be
damned if I know, but I can do that. That is my power."
"But I used the wand to change things!" said Meghan.
"Yes, because I allowed you to. I unconsciously let you work that magic
through me."
Meghan blinked as she took that in. "So, what's the deal with the wand?"
"It's a prop. Nothing more. Training wheels for the magician. Same goes
for the spellbooks and the kabballah and all its symbols. They are aids.
Helpers. Shortcuts to the power. They focus the mind and the will and the
power."
"And you've mastered it?"
"Just a little."
*
In the Other Place Abi had picked me up and embraced me. Here she was a
god-giant, the size of a world, so huge I could not see where she ended.
And she delicately wrapped me in her arms and comforted me, by stroking
my hair and singing a soothing song.
"I'm so lost," I said to her. "I don't know who I am any more."
"Of course you don't. None of us do. That's our journey. To discover
ourselves." Abi's words and images flowed gently. "It never ends. The
best we do is learn a little of ourselves."
We were surrounded by stars. They didn't twinkle but blazed a million
different colors and intensities.
"Did you and dad go through this?" I asked, nuzzling into her bosom like
a newborn, desperate for solace.
"Not in the same way, the goddess replied. "Our paths differed. I altered
myself emotionally. Your father transformed himself intellectually. You
have changed yourself physically."
This was the gist of what Abi was saying, but the images and concepts
multiplied in my mind, adding layers of meaning.
Abi had called her journey emotional, but the concept she broadcast was
Binah: the bride, the womb, and the mother of Understanding. It was
contemplation and it was knowledge; that which was given in extra measure
to women.
The intellect my father pursed was the Chokhmah, the primary force of
creation. It was also the father, the first insight, the intuition.
And it was selflessness.
Selflessness? That was antithetical to everything I knew about my dad.
He'd been a terrible father: absent from my life. That void in my life
was, I knew, the root of my resentment of him, the reason why I needed to
be different from him.
When Abi called my transformation physical, she'd used another concept:
Malkuth, the material, the realm of matter, the point furthest from the
divine source.
In some interpretations, it also meant "asshole".
*
Meghan laughed when I explained what Abi had told me.
"You changed yourself into an asshole! Kinda makes sense." Meghan's grin
split her face.
"Well, it's got a bunch of meanings. In the Tree of Life Malkuth is where
we excrete unbalanced energies away, into the Tree of Death. It's also,"
I added, with a faint smile, "the point where we make contact with the
Earth when we sit, meditating."
"This is some seriously funny stuff," giggled Meghan.
"Yes well, the end of the world is coming. I need a good laugh."
Meghan's hands gripped mine.
"So, the apocalypse is really coming?" I was surprised she wasn't more
freaked out by the idea.
"AN apocalypse," I corrected. "MY apocalypse, to be more exact."
"You're gonna die?"
"No. I won't die."
"You speak in riddles, youngling," said Meghan. "So, if your world is
coming to an end, what about mine?"
"This world you know will stay the same. Unless," I held my breath a
moment, "Unless you come with me."
Meghan paused a moment to contemplate. Then slowly, she said: "You want
me to go with you to the end of the world?"
I sighed, my bosom rising and falling. "Yes. It's difficult to explain.
I'd like you to come with me. If you say yes, your life as you know it
will end."
"Well, that's an invitation I don't get every day," said Meghan, her hand
clasping mine tightly. "My very own doomsday."
"Don't worry," I said, "It's just a day, like any other."
*
I found mom lying on the couch, trying to read a magazine. I had a coffee
for her.
She was looking good. I'd fixed her a little, with magic, just to remove
a few lines and to tone her up slightly.
"Ooh, coffee for me?" She looked at me strangely. "What's up, honey?"
I summoned up my nerve and blurted out the thing that was on my mind.
"Mom, did you ever regret having me?"
"What? Helena honey, no I never regretted that. Not for a moment. What
brought this on?"
"Nothing. I just wondered."
"You look like you're full of questions."
"Well, a couple." I hesitated before plunging in. "I wondered whether
you'd have preferred having a boy rather than a girl?"
"What, and have no-one to dress up or go shopping with?" She gave me a
smile. "I only ever wanted my beautiful girl. Now, come here, sweetie.
Let's have a hug."
I sat on the couch and leaned back into mom's embrace. She stroked my
hair and kissed my head.
"Why all this worry?" Mom said.
"I dunno. Since my birthday and those presents from Dad, I'm just sorta
trying to figure some things out."
"What, that silly magic book and wand he gave you? Don't let that man
mess with your head."
"I think it's messed whether you like it or not," I told Mom. "I mean, I
love Dad, but he's a asshole. I think this might have been his own stupid
way to try and bring me closer to his world."
"Be careful of your father's world, Helena," said Mom, ruefully. "He ran
off into it and away from you. I don't want to lose you."
There was a pin drop silence. I rubbed Mom's arm, absently.
"Mom, do you resent dad going off like that?"
She paused a while, thinking, before she answered.
"No, sweetie. I think it was for the best. He wanted his life and I
wanted mine. It wasn't all him, you know. We went down different paths."
Different paths. I felt I was at a crossroads too. Do I go back, stay
where I am, or commit to my journey onward?
I couldn't say this to Mom. She wouldn't understand and she'd only freak.
However, I could see a path to the Moon. I wanted to leap.
*
I stood on the burning plain again, the black sky dome contrasting with
the blinding white landscape. I was dressed as Wonder Woman, and the gold
on my tiara and bustier was burnished bright.
Abi was beside me, or at least an avatar of her. She was statuesque,
diaphanous, beautiful. Like me she stared up at the moon.
"Why the costume?" she asked. In the conceptual language we were speaking
she also meant: "Why the mask?/ Who are you now?"
"I wanted to be strong," I said, though this splintered into other
meanings: "I want to be other than myself/ This is my fortress of
identity."
Then haltingly I added, "I'm made of clay." I had meant to say that the
Wonder Woman of the four-color comic books had been created from clay, a
feminine golem made flesh. The subtext was "I am transformed/ I am remade
from old material." But again the thought fractalled and became "I am
base/ I lack worth."
Abi was silent for a while, and then said: "Many men attempt to climb to
Keter through all the realms. Almost none make it. You won't because you
are not wholly male. Like most travellers you will stop somewhere else.
You will find the divine indwelling presence and you will complete your
journey before reaching the summit."
I could not follow all the concepts and impressions that branched off
from this, but I got the gist. I understood. The mistake was to strive
for the apex when your actual goal was more modest and achievable. I was
not worthless for wanting less.
Abi changed tack. "Have you told Meghan everything?/ What have you
concealed?/ What narrative have you constructed?"
My feelings bubbled up a reply. "I have told her what she needed to
know./ I have concealed my true face./ I am deceit."
I added: "My desires would frighten her."
They would. The power I held over others was tempting, corrupting. I
could alter reality. I could bend people to my will. Mould them into
lovers, slaves. I could mutilate them with a wish.
It was more power than anyone could bear without becoming a monster. So I
would do what I must to reach the Moon, and then I'd give the power up.
And that's when I realised, in a moment of shocking clarity, that this
was what happened to my father and to Abi. They had once wielded the same
power. And they had also abandoned it.
Another revelation struck. I turned to Abi, groping for a way to answer
her first question.
"I dressed as Wonder Woman because I want to be Good."
A cloud of ideas burst from the word 'Good' and swirled around us as
fragments of words, images and emotions: "Hero", "Justice", "Loving",
"Kind", "Guardian", "Fairness".
Abi replied as if she'd been following my train of thought. "Your father
once wielded this power. It frightened him so much that he left you and
your mother. He feared he'd hurt you."
I looked at Abi, into her open face. I was hurting and felt raw. This was
the truth, wasn't it? Dad had been here too. He'd faced the temptation
too, and had found the strength to reject the magic.
"Can I do this?" For a moment, in spite of the costume, the mantle of
heroism I'd wrapped around me, I doubted my strength.
"Of course you can," said Abi. "We love you, your father and I. We are
rooting for you."
There was a long silence. I could feel the heat radiating from the mica
desert and the silvered coolness from the Moon above. I took in a deep
breath, the tight costume pressing against my chest. I would touch the
Moon. I would change. Then I would leave the transformation magic behind.
I'd had my fill of it.
"You and Meghan, your stories are about to change," said Abi. "You're
both at a crossroads. You'll do this and walk different ways. Your old
lives will be gone. Your old stories will be over. A clean break. Yes,
you can do this."
*
Meghan called it The Big Bang.
"This is the day we die, girlfriend," she said.
All was quiet in the house. Mom was out, leaving us plenty of time to do
the ritual.
I had cleared the floor in my room, pushed the bed to the side. A huge
cloth was spread across the floor on which was drawn a sephiroth in chalk
and charcoal. Candles marked the corners of the tree of life.
Meghan and I sat at the head of the tree, facing each other, completely
naked. The striptease had been slow and sexy. We helped each other take
off our clothes, kissing as we did so.
We sat on the floor, embracing, occasionally touching lips.
I began the incantation: "Ana b'koach g'dulat yeminecha tatir tzerurah-"
The 42-letter Name of God.
The words changed the world. They drew us away from time, space, motion
and the influence of physical matter. The material world grew tenuous,
but I could still touch it. My hands caressed Meghan's smooth skin.
In this world of spirit we were souls dressed in bodies. Meghan's soul
was Malchut, the female, but mine embodied the Zeir Anpin, the masculine.
Masculine, the wand.
I opened an eye. This was a third eye for gazing upon the soul and the
physical world. I could see my body conjoined with Meghan's, not
physically, but through the wand. It extended from my soul to spear hers.
I let the wild magic take hold. Joined by the wand I opened myself to
Meghan's wishes, so she would also shape the things around us. Now, we
were changing the world together.
"Oh my god," said Meghan out loud. Or was it her mind touching thoughts
with mine? "I can feel the power, but it's slipping through my fingers, I
can't grasp it."
"Don't try," I said, without speaking. "Your conscious mind can't direct
it. The power only responds to your deeper desires."
I could feel my body shifting. Meghan was making me change, shaping me to
some unconscious design.
"Jesus, your tits are enormous!" Meghan said.
They were. They were easily a GG-cup now, heavy against my chest, with
large stretched aureoles. My hips had widened to match, though somehow my
waist was still slim. I felt heavier, fleshier compared to my leaner
form.
"I know what's happening! Your magic! I'm taking your magic!"
My tits were leaking.
Meghan squeezed my left breast sharply. It hurt a little. A stream of
milk shot out from the teat to form a constellation of stars that hung in
the air a moment before they evaporated. Meg fell upon the nipple with
her mouth and started to suckle. I could feel the prickling beneath the
skin as she started to draw deep on my milk.
Only it wasn't milk, was it? It was magic. She was drawing my magic from
me. Ingesting it, making it hers. My third eye could see the wand that
joined us was now siphoning my essence, the Zeir Anpin. It was weakening
at my end and beginning to anchor itself in Meghan. Very soon, I would
not be spearing her soul with my wand, but instead she would be spearing
mine with hers.
I cradled Meghan's head as she drew deep on me. She was shapeshifting in
front of me, her small breasts shrinking back and her waist thickening. I
was changing too, my body trying new forms, searching for its ultimate
shape. Flesh flowed like quicksilver. In moments I had cycled through
maiden, mother and crone, then back again. My breasts billowed, swelled
then shrank back small, but Meghan kept her lips latched onto my left
teat, suckling, drawing every ounce of power from me.
As we changed, we slid down the Tree of Life, the symbols of the
Sephiroth seemingly becoming solid around us. From Keter, I had descended
to Hod, the realm of the magician. Here, I knew, I must submit to the
obstacle. I kept up the incantation: "Chason kadosh b'rov tuvcha nahel
adatecha."
The obstacle was the Moon, always out of reach, beyond my fingertips. My
third eye gazed upward at the Moon, which manifest itself, lambent and
silver above us. The floor seemed to lurch beneath me and turn
vertiginous. I suddenly realized that I had it all wrong. It was a
question of perspective. The Moon was not above, but below. To submit to
the obstacle was to be captured by its gravity, to fall into it.
Hallo spaceboy.
I fell, fell. Fell deep into the dust oceans of the Moon, to be buried
and smothered by the fine powder. I felt the moon dust cover me, then
fill me, entering my mouth, filling my eyes. I was engulfed in its light.
In the depths of the dust sea, I began to shine.
I had achieved the Moon. And the Moon was love. It was life. It was
empathy. It was sorrow. It was the woman who bleeds. It was a mad howl.
It was revenge and bitterness and loss. It was the whole experience of
being a woman. Here, my manhood could not survive. It crumbled, flaked
away and became moon dust.
As my masculinity rusted away, I fell through the Moon's center and
crested its far side.
Dust fell from my eyes. I was now able to see the connection between
cause and effect, to view the big picture. I could see galaxies form,
worlds condense and cool, life form, the rise and fall of human empires,
the endless cycles of change, never repeating but always rhyming. My life
was ending. My life was beginning. But my vision was fading. This vision
was a last burst of magical clarity before the end. I was losing my
power, having gifted it to Meghan, and I was falling to Earth.
Hallo spacegirl.
I chased the incantation through Yesod, the foundation, the transmitter
between Earth and Heaven. This was the place of the masculine, of the
male vital forces. But I was no longer male. Meghan had all my power now
and I began to fall, down and down, toward Malkuth, the feminine, the
Earth. My third eye finally dissolved, and I was blind to the magic.
I was caught by Meghan. His arms pulled my body to the Earth and physical
reality reasserted itself. I was lying, amidst chalk and charcoal, on the
cloth, which was wrapped around me like a shroud.
Meghan peeled the shroud away then speared me with his cock, his wand
inside my vagina. I felt him penetrate and I gasped, with a sharp, high
voice. Meghan began to fuck me hard on the floor. His large male body
pinned me down as he rode me, his member stretching me--whatever shape my
new body was, my pussy was tight, and it hurt as Meghan pistoned into me.
Meghan was becoming more and more excited and I could feel his climax was
close. Mine was, too. Whatever magic was left must have aligned our
orgasms, as we came together. There was an explosion, a silent roar,
tearing us apart, shredding us.
It was the apocalypse.
The world had ended. Our old existence was eradicated. Our bodies stopped
changing. We collapsed back into the mundane world, panting on the floor,
exhausted.
The room swam back into focus. I watched Meghan pick himself up off the
floor, his body all lean angles, his face alight. He was tall and good
looking.
I stood up, my toes scuffing the Sephiroth chalked on the cloth. Then I
stumbled to the mirror, to see how I had been changed. What did my final
form look like?
For the first time in months I looked my age. I looked sixteen, my face
an oval with wide-spaced eyes framed by a mass of dark hair. My cute-to-
hot ratio was as finely balanced as a Hanso sword. I was short and
slender, with creamy skin and hips that smoothly curved out from a small
waist. My chest looked enormous; a pair of firm DDs that looked freakish
on my tight little body.
This was me now, for the rest of my life.
I felt wet between my legs. A little residue of Meghan's cum was there. A
drop splatted on the floor.
I turned to see Meghan looking at his hands, the hair on his strong chest
and arms. He also looked his age, a lean, handsome teen.
"A new body," he breathed. "A new life."
I nodded. He padded over to embrace me and kiss me on my head.
The old world was gone. A new world awaited us.
*
The world had changed, in some ways more profound than others. This was a
world in which I had always been Helena, and Meghan had always been
Robert. The web of relationships was very different to that I'd known.
Since the apocalypse, close cousins had become distant and distant
cousins close. At school I could barely remember my old coterie of male
friends. Indeed, it was hard to hold any grasp on memories of my old
life. I could feel them leach away.
Mom was sorta the same as before, but happier, somehow. She loved her
little girl and I loved her back.
Robert and I were friends, but we didn't fuck again. He was too busy
chasing tail and giving his sisters hell. He never expressed a moment of
regret for the change. He was happier, too.
As for me? I enjoyed the attention my looks got me, but I didn't feel the
need for validation. I was just more comfortable in this new skin.
I'd changed. With my masculinity lost somewhere on the Moon, my drives,
my ambitions, my desires were different. To be a woman was to experience
a different way of knowing, at turns wise and scary and wonderful. At
last, I was content.
*
Dad was upbeat on the phone. We talked more often now. He seemed really
pleased to have a daughter. He was, however, curious about me.
"With all the realms available to you, why change only your physical
self? You could have chosen knowledge or wisdom or power."
"The thing about knowledge, Dad, is that the journey to find it is more
enjoyable than having it. The same is true true of wisdom. I'm content to
get there the hard way." I paused. "As for power, I've had a taste of
that and I know I'm not to be trusted."
"My little girl is wise. Abi approves, by the way."
"I don't think the choice was a conscious one, Dad. I think it was the
one calculated to create the greatest joy in the world. I've seen how
much happier Mom was, and I think that's because I'm the daughter she
always wanted."
"Then maybe it was for the best," said Dad. "People who strive for power
or knowledge find it doesn't fulfill them. You have chosen modestly, you
chose a life of fulfillment and happiness."
Yes, that made sense. I'd avoided the trap of power. That was the price
paid for masculinity, for ownership of the wand. That was a pitfall that
Robert now faced on his journey. I wished him well with that. I'd given
that power up, and now my adventure looked very different.
In my descent from the Moon I'd seen my future ahead of me. I couldn't
recall the specifics, but I knew the highlights: Tisha, career, marriage,
kids, retirement, death. Somewhere along the way I'd help others, do good
works, make a difference. I knew it was going to be a good life.
A really good life.
END
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