The Magician's Apprentice

The following is a fictional story involving humiliation, degradation and non-consensual sexual acts. All characters in this story are 18 year old or older.

* * * * *

HELP WANTED!

Entertainer/magician is

looking for a stagehand

for his act.

Call XXX-XXXX

Short and to the point. Didn't even mention how much he paid. Still, Sergei was desperate enough to at least reach out. Never been a stagehand before, but how hard could it be?

"Yes?"

"Hey, man. I'm calling about the ad thing? The..."

"The stagehand job. Do you have experience?" The deep voice on the other side of the line was cold and curt, giving him pause.

"I, ah... Yeah, of course!" The lie came easily to Sergei's lips.

"I require someone to do some heavy lifting, some of my equipment weighs quite a bit. Am I correct in assuming you have the necessary upper body strength?" The man sounded impatient. There was something about his tone that rubbed Sergei the wrong way but things were starting to look tight, moneywise. If he had to deal with a grouchy old man to get some money, so be it.

"Right, no issue there. I'm 25, and I'm at the gym all the time, so yeah, pretty fit! I can deadlift-"

"That's enough." The man rudely interrupted him. Sergei stopped, annoyed. For once he had not been lying and actually was looking forward to bragging about one of his few strengths. While he was short and stocky he had more muscle than fat, his thickset body complemented by his boyish face. He had practiced wrestling in high school although these days he was more fond of lifting weights in the gym, one of the few expenses he allowed himself. He kept his blonde hair short and his face bare, something that had proven popular with the girls (and women!) around him. He had come to learn the power of a practiced coy smile to get people on his side.

"Send a photo to this number," the man continued in a bored tone. "I'll judge if you're fit for the task. If you are, I will send you the information for the event, where to meet and the compensation. Don't be late".

Before Sergei could think of anything to say the line went dead. Didn't even bother saying goodbye. Whatever, Sergei thought. If dealing with a rude old man was the worst of it he would be pretty damn OK.

Still, the uneasiness persisted. He briefly wondered what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

The van driven by the magician stopped in front of a luxurious place, much nicer than what Sergei had expected.

It wasn't a house, not really. An enormous garden separated the area in-between the entrance gate and the building, covered in carefully trimmed shrubs and a hedge on the limits of the property. The place itself covered a huge area and had to be several stories high. Sergei, in the passenger's seat, had been surprised when he saw the neighborhood they had approached; he had been aware the area was affluent, but he was still unprepared by the sheer opulence of the place.

In the few hours since he had met the magician while loading the equipment in his warehouse, Sergei had had plenty of time to wonder if the man wasn't involved in shady business. While the young man had no complaints that he was being paid in cash, his employer had been cagey about the details of the job and outright refused to say where it was located. Instead, he told him his job was to shut up and carry his things around as he ordered.

Sergei observed in silence from the passenger's seat as the magician rolled down his window to talk to the guard at the front gate. A part of him expected them to be turned away, but they were actually granted access and given directions as to where they should park. Following the indicated route they approached the mansion not from the main entrance but from a small, unremarkable path that led to a garage door on the side of the building.

His employer climbed down from the van and immediately began barking at him to unload the equipment from the car. The dislike he had felt for the man on the phone had only increased since meeting him in person. A man of few words who seemed to be in his mid-fifties, he was tall and lanky, with thin, stringy hair parted in the middle and a long, not-quite-well-kept gray beard. Sergei had not seen him smile once in the short time since he had met him, his thick eyebrows in a perpetual frown that accentuated the wrinkles under his eyes. At the moment he was wearing an ill-fitting three-piece suit with a bowtie; it seemed the jacket used to be black but constant use had faded its colors to a dull gray.

Unloading the equipment was only marginally faster than what it had taken him to load it on the van, back at the magician's place; the stuff was not only heavy but also cumbersome, making it hard for him to do on his own. Once everything had been set on the ground, the magician ordered him to carry inside whatever equipment he could.

They were led by a servant through a long hallway, past several closed doors and into a great dining room full of empty tables. A stage at the back of the room had been temporarily set up in the back. The stage, clearly not a fixture of the room, dominated the back wall of the great room. It had an elevated platform that allowed everyone in the room to clearly see whoever was on it and a big red curtain in the foreground. Small stairs on the sides lead to the platform. Sergei carried the equipment up the stairs with great difficulty.

It took him several more trips to the van to get the whole equipment on stage, if only because some of it had been unwieldy, and by then he was covered in sweat. He finally finished carrying and unloading the equipment on stage under the barking of instructions of the man before he was waved away, his employer clearly intent on preparing the equipment by himself. Sergeant noticed the man's eyebrows were knitted together so closely they almost touched as he worked on the equipment and looked at his watch in increasing annoyance as the minutes passed.

His job done for now, Sergei sat on the stairs to the stage; a couple of hours of respite before he would have to carry it all back after the end of the show. In the meantime, an increasing number of voices could be heard in the room; he took a peek behind the side curtains and saw that the great hall was starting to fill with guests. More and more men came through the main doors, an indistinguishable murmur echoing through the walls; they were mostly old and, Sergei noted, they were all men. As he saw them taking their places at the round tables he felt himself being pulled away by the surprisingly strong arm of the tall older man. He was seething, his eyes cold.

"He is not coming, that is clear now. I did not foresee this. You will be my assistant today, instead", said the man. It wasn't a question.

Sergei looked at him, dumbfounded. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen. I was paid to carry things, that's what I'm doing. Sucks your assistant didn't show up but that's not..."

"You will be paid his part on top of what I am already paying you", the man interrupted him. "That is more than double what you were going to earn tonight. So shut up and come."

"More than...? I don't know the first thing about magic tricks!", Sergei said as he was pulled to one of the trunks he had helped unload. The man opened it and began rummaging, all but ignoring the young worker's protests until he finally fished out a white shirt and a two-piece suit that was even more wrinkled than the one the man was wearing. He pushed it against Sergei's chest wordlessly.

Suit pressed against him, Sergei considered his options. He wasn't nervous about the audience, and besides, so what if the whole thing fell apart because of his inexperience? He was still getting paid, it was not his reputation on the line.

"Where can I change?", he asked, finally taking the suit. He wished he could at least take a quick shower, suddenly self-conscious of how sweaty he was.

"Right here. Do it fast", replied the magician. Sergei looked at the man and, annoyed, started undressing down to his boxer briefs, shielded from the audience by the curtains at the sides of the stage; if he had turned he would have seen some men at a table at the edge of the room watching him with great intensity.

The pants were a tight fit, his boxers bunched up; the man barked at him to take them off and for a second Sergei considered walking away for this. Yet the promise of monetary compensation made him stare at the magician in a challenging way as he dropped both the trousers and boxers in one fell swoop, unashamed. Sergei would have been furious, had he noticed that behind him the men on the table continued to leer at his hairless muscular ass.

Tossing his boxers aside he wore the pants sans underwear, this time managing to barely squeeze into them, the back tightly hugging his backside. The shirt and jacket were also clearly meant for a smaller man; he was worried that if he took a deep breath buttons would start flying off. All the while, the magician was hurrying him up and giving last-minute instructions.

"You will not be doing anything at all. I am the one who will be doing the magic, and you will follow my instructions. Your role has not changed. Just shut up and obey".

Finally, the man grabbed a black hat and climbed to the stage, standing in the middle of it. He straightened his back, puffed out his chest and signaled Sergei to pull on the curtain. As they opened the murmurs of the crowd began to die down and he was received with a round of polite applause.

"Good evening!", the magician said with a big smile as he faced the crowd. He seemed to transform into a completely different persona: gone was the odious, sneering man Sergei had known, and in front of him was a confident, cheerful entertainer. "Good evening, good evening, my dear gentlemen! My name is the Great Rasputin, and tonight, it is with great pleasure that I'll be providing your entertainment!"

The man bowed down and took out his hat to the audience with an exaggerated gesture while the audience continued to clap.

"I say I shall provide your entertainment, but for those of you who have seen my show before know that's not quite true. No, not at all... instead, please help me welcome my assistant for today's show!", he extended an arm in the direction of Sergei, who understood it was his cue to join him on stage.

Despite his self-assuredness a moment prior, Sergei felt a pang of nervousness as he walked towards the central stage amid the applause of the crowd. Standing next to the magician he quickly and slightly bowed his head to the crowd; he screened the crowd and confirmed his previous assessment that only men were there, and hardly anyone looked under 60.

"Well, gentlemen, what do you say we begin tonight's evening with a little bit of classic magic?", asked Rasputin. "And when I say that, I mean the kind of magic you've all seen... the one that has been popularized nowadays in books and films. But I ask you this, how many of you have actually held in your hands... this famous little thing?"

Rasputin removed his hat and, reaching inside, produced a crudely made straw doll. It was dressed in a simple black cloth and had mismatched buttons as eyes.

"Yes... you all know voodoo dolls, don't you? I don't think this kind of magic artifact really needs an explanation. Yet a voodoo doll by itself is just that: a doll". The man walked around the stage as he explained while Sergei stood awkwardly. Why was he needed again? "I do think we need something else to show off the magic here... a little something like... this!"

From behind him the magician swiftly pulled on Sergei's blond hair without warning, eliciting a surprised yelp from him. He turned to face him, furious.

"What the FUCK is your problem?", he muttered, ignoring the audience. The magician seemed to pay him no attention as he carefully inserted a strand of hair into the doll while muttering something to himself. Sergei was seething. Before he knew it he was already walking to the edge of the stage. Did that man think he was going to play along in his little show? Now it seemed clear to him why his employer had been vague on the details, but he wasn't about to take it on the chin. And he better still pay what he was promi-

Sergei froze. It took him a second to process that his body wasn't responding to him.

"What the hell...?" he gasped, turning his head. That, however, seemed to be the entirety of his control over his body: his hands, his legs, nothing seemed to respond but for his neck and head. He turned around and saw the magician raising the voodoo doll towards the audience, triumphantly. The audience clapped, enthused.

"What's going on? What are you doing? What the fuck did you do to me? Let me go, you motherfucker!" Sergei hurled insult after insult towards the man, who once again ignored him. Sergei turned towards the audience to ask for help but the protest died in his throat as he saw the way many of them were staring at him. He felt a dark pit in his stomach as he saw their positively gleeful expressions of excitement.

"And that, my dear gentlemen, is the actual power of the voodoo doll... a power that should not be taken lightly, as my young assistant can now attest to. In the wrong hands, of course, this kind of magic could be used for very bad purposes", he gave a sardonic smile to his audience, who laughed and clapped. What the fuck is going on, thought Sergei in shock once more.

He felt himself suddenly turning back and walking towards the magician against his will. He saw the way the man manipulated the doll to force him to do so.

"You motherfucker... I'll fucking kill you, I'll...!", Sergei's mouth suddenly stopped and closed. He tried to continue cursing but he could not open his mouth. What the hell?

"I did say to shut up", the magician coldly told him in a voice low enough that no one else could hear. From the corner of his eye, Sergei saw the voodoo doll now sported black tape on its mouth, something that had not been there before. He tried to once again curse at him, but the man paid no heed to his unintelligible grunts. Like a switch, he turned his smile back on and turned to face the audience.

"Now, I don't expect you, my dear audience, to take my word for the power now controlling my young assistant", the magician jovially said. "We need a volunteer... How about you, the gentleman on that table? Yes, please approach the stage, no need to come up."

A bald, fat man approached the front of the stage. Sergei saw with great disgust the barely contained glee of the man. By now he was sure they all knew his predicament was real; they not only didn't care, they reveled in it.

The magician bent down and gave the doll to the man below the stage, who wasted no time in manipulating its extremities and, by proxy, Sergei's. He was forced to clumsily walk around, alternating between raising his arms and marching awkwardly on stage. He found himself turning his back to the audience and starting to move his hips, which earned him many hoots, claps, and laughs from the increasingly excited crowd.

"Mmm!! Mmm!!" Sergei pathetically tried yelling at the man, who ignored him and kept playing with the doll much to the delight of most everyone present. His tight clothing felt particularly constrictive and he found himself beginning to sweat as he moved on stage.

As the man became more familiar with the doll he began moving Sergei with more precise motions. He proceeded to make him perform what could only be described as a parody of a dance, moving his hips to invisible music, and swinging his arms wildly from side to side. He was forced to turn back against the audience and, much to his horror, started shaking his ass. He felt himself go hot under the collar as the man forced him to move it up and down, crudely slapping his own backside.

It happened when, in a sudden movement, he was forced to drop down into a squat, arch his back and stick his ass out towards the audience. He knew it would happen a second before it did: a ripping sound as a thread gave way and his tight pants burst open from behind, exposing his bare ass to the audience due to his lack of underwear. What was worse, the squat meant he was wide open to an audience of dozens of men.

For a moment it felt as if time froze, Sergei stuck in the awful position of arched back mid-squat as everyone stared at him, and the next moment everyone in the audience was hooting and hollering. He was trying to will his body to react, to stand up or at least to cover up but legs and hands remained stubbornly unresponsive. The only part he could was his neck, and when he turned to look at the audience he wished he hadn't: confronted by what seemed to be a sea of lustful men clearly excited to see his most private parts exposed he felt himself more vulnerable than he had ever been in his life. He tried to say something, to curse at them or order them to look away, but his mouth refused to open. The moment extended and the tear on the back of his trousers was only getting bigger and bigger to the point that his dick and balls flopped out unceremoniously, much to his consternation.

"Ah, it seems my little assistant has had a wardrobe malfunction. I must apologize on his behalf for his obscenity, dear audience... but I will allow him to do it himself, instead", said the magician, leaning down to take the doll from the man. Sergei felt himself being forced back up and turned to face the audience, still unable to cover his now bare genitals. He was proud of his member, and never had he wasted a chance to send pictures of it to potential suitors (requested or not), but this was different... he felt embarrassed at the leering men and what was worst, his own dick reacted by shrinking in fear, further emasculating him. He wanted to yell at the perverts and yet his mouth did not move... until it suddenly did, although no word came out.

For a moment Sergei stood in the center of the stage, mouth agape and his cock and balls hanging obscenely from his torn pants with all eyes on him. Then his mouth started to move and words seemed to come out of him, but those words were not his.

"I am sorry, Sirs! My so-called manhood has slipped out of its enclosure and for that, I am truly sorry! I am sorry, also, because you had to witness my pink, virgin rosebud!" Sergei blinked, stunned, as the words echoed through the room. There was much chuckling from the audience as Sergei turned to see the corners of the magician's mouth barely move as the voice pretending to be him continued. "I hope my body will continue to entertain and amuse you fine gentlemen this enchanting evening. I am but a dirty dog that Master Rasputin has saved, and it is truly an honor to serve him, stupid as I am!"

More laughter and applause followed his supposed words. Sergei felt sick to the stomach. This was too much... being used as a ventriloquist dummy for the amusement of rich bastards. He felt mad, but other emotions were swelling up inside him, ones of shame and frustration. He had never felt so humiliated and helpless in his entire life.

"Well said, well said!" the magician took a step forward next to Sergei as the audience clapped. "Well, if you are indeed sorry about your sad and tawdry display then we can proceed with our show! Now, tonight my obedient assistant is pulling double duty as my stagehand as well as assisting in the tricks, so let's allow him to bring in the next bit of equipment!"

As the man spoke, Sergei felt himself compelled to move, noticing the man was no longer holding the doll; he wondered if he had actually ever needed it to move him in the first place as he was forced to bring to the stage a metallic ring suspended in the air by a pole connected to a base with wheels. He had seen the magician assemble it not half an hour ago, unsuspecting it would eventually be used on him.