Real Magic

by Ron Jeremy Pony

Rating: mature
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, Anthro, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Trixie, Sex
Length: 4350

Magic is strange in that it takes on so many different faces. It can be serious, silly, harmonious, chaotic, caring, and cruel. Sometimes though, just sometimes, Magic knows exactly what two hearts need, and it works toward giving it to them.

Magic is strange in that it takes on so many different faces. It can be serious, silly, harmonious, chaotic, caring, and cruel. Sometimes though, just sometimes, Magic knows exactly what two hearts need, and it works toward giving it to them.

Trixie isn't sure of many times, Trixie isn't sure that she likes having to pay for things with her thumb, or that Trixie isn't always the top billing at the theaters, but Trixie is sure that she loves two things. Trixie loves her fans, and Trixie well... Trixie will tell you about Trixie's other love.

Cover Image is Atryl's Trixin' Please check him out on Deviant Art.

Published 2016-02-05 05:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-04-21 15:28:27 UTC

Remembering

Real Magic

A Trixie Lulamoon in the Vogonverse Story

Chapter 1 - Remembering...

The sound of applause rocked the amphitheater, and the showmare on the stage bowed. She looked happy, confident, and truly excited to be there. Slowly the curtains closed, and she walked back stage. Once she was out she stopped by the dressing room that was offered to her. In a few moments she'd be expected to greet her fans, sign autographs, but all of that could wait.

Stepping into the room her eyes focused on the man standing there. She walked toward him, her smile brilliant, her eyes full of life and energy, and a moment later she was in his arms.

"It was a great show," he said.

"Trixie did outdo herself, but that is just because she is the Great and Powerful Trixie!" she replied.

She felt the kiss, and returned it.

"Will you be here?" she asked.

He nodded, and she smiled at him, "Trixie is lucky."

She walked out and he took a seat. Two years, two years he'd been with her, traveled with her, and in that time he couldn't bring himself to face the crowd. Being an introvert wasn't a bad thing, but he knew that he took it to a new level.

He loved being with Trixie, and watching the show, but he just couldn't deal with crowds at all. It was funny, here he was, a gifted illusionist, but he couldn't stand to perform in front of very many people at a time. Hearing the crowd cheer from the dressing room reminded him of the times he managed to play large crowds. He would manage it, somehow, leave the stage, and once he got to the dressing room he’d nearly have a panic attack.

It’d been more than just hard. He knew that he was able to make a comfortable living by playing to larger groups, but being unable to deal with just everyday things for hours afterward was too much. It was what made meeting Trixie such a blessing. Slowly, his mind went back to two years ago. Being a magician meant knowing the lure behind the illusions. Any magician worth their salt knew the old stories about magic, how the seasons worked the ebb and flow of it, and of course every magician knew that winter, for all of the cruelty and harshness it dealt out was the season that had the strongest connection to magic that could cause change.

It was the strongest connection because winter itself was a promise for change. Winter caused the land to go to sleep, to rejuvenate, and prepare for the oncoming spring. Winter worked its own magic on the Earth preparing it for something better, and being able to tap into that magic meant being able to do the impossible.

He’d prepared for his show, knowing that even if magic itself was nothing more than cheap fifty dollar illusions the fact that it was happening when people sensed a change approaching made them far more receptive to seeing and believing. He walked outside, into the falling snow and breathed in the cold crisp air. There was a few hours before his show would start, and it was a smaller one.

Leaning against the rough brick of the older theater he felt the cold of the brick bleeding through his show jacket. It was the kind of cold that cut straight to the bone. Uncaring, unfeeling, and ready to steal the warmth from the willing and unwilling alike. He shivered, preparing to head back in when he heard the soft chattering of teeth. Had the wind been blowing, if he would have simply went in a few moments earlier, he wouldn’t had heard a thing, but instead he heard it clearly now.

Moving down the steps from the backstage door he saw a figure with a cloak pulled up over its shoulders. A pointed, almost witch’s or wizard’s hat stood above the cloak, and otherwize little more could be noticed about the huddled lump.

“Are you okay?”

“Trixie is cold, and Trixie would rather not be cold,” a feminine voice replied.

He knelt down, brushed the hat back to see silvery white hair. Two blue hands reached up, pulling the hat back down roughly.

“Why would you try to make Trixie colder than Trixie already is?!”

He stepped back, uncertain of what to say to the voice with white hair and blue hands, “Ummm… Sorry, look, if you’re cold I’m sure you can come into the theater for a little bit.”

She stood, and he could see that her azure, (yes he was certain it was that shade of blue, so her hands weren’t from the cold itself, but rather they were fur covered to match the rest of her) coat. Her violet eyes looked into his own, and he realized that she was one of the Equestrian folk he’d read about. He heard rumors, stories, from tourists and regulars alike of the pony folk turning up in the oddest of places. She started to step, but he could see her faltering already. Not knowing what else to do, he reacted as best he could and caught her.

Zachary was many things as a magician, a gifted illusionist, and fairly easy going, but strong as an ox wasn’t one of them. She was a milkweed puff, but for all Zachary knew, she was sixteen tons of lead and tungsten. He carried her, as best he could back down the alley they were in, up the stairs, and through his dressing room. Once there he deposited her, perhaps a bit harshly, on the couch. She bounced, which surprised him, and it allowed her cloak to fall open. Under it did, he discovered a shimmering, but wholly inadequate, V-cut dress that seemed to be made out of a slightly darker blue sequins, and her sides were split up to her waist. There was a mark, on each hip, which looked like it had a wand, a star, and something else he couldn’t quite tell on it. Of course what really surprised him was the fact that she was a very full figured woman, mare, or whatever the Equestrian folk called themselves. Her dress had shifted, and she was a bit more exposed than he supposed a body would want to be. He delicated grabbed the edge of her dress, dragging the cup that was supposed to completely cover her, ummm, top shall we say, and moved it.

This event ended in two more. The first was her eyes snapping open, and the other was his hand being batted away a bit more forcefully than he would have thought possible for someone that had been out cold a few moments before.

“What are you trying to do to the Great and Powerful Trixie?!!”

“I was just trying to cover you up,” he replied as he backed away, “I mean when I placed you on the couch…”

She moved and groaned, “Placed? It feels as if you simply tossed Trixie on this, couch, with the same amount of care somepony would have tossed an old hoofball!”

“Sorry, it’s just that you were heavy, and….” he started to say something else when she sat up and glared at him.

“Please, continue!” The mare named Trixie demanded, “Trixie wants to hear how you think that Trixie was too heavy to move. Trixie wants to hear it from you before Trixie decides what kind of spell she should cast on somepony that would try to feel what Trixie has not given permission to be felt!”

He backed into the dresser, which caused him to stumble, which caused him to fall on his arse. She continued to glare at him, but soon she began to weave back and forth for a moment before she fell back, “Ow… The Great and Powerful Trixie is… okay.”

He breathed out a relieved sigh, and slowly got up. He looked at the mirror and realized that suit had gotten a little out of sorts, but it would still be wearable for the show tonight, and the show must go on. He looked at her, seeing her struggling with staying awake, not sure if she should sleep or not, but he did think about the small closet they provided in the dressing room. He opened it, seeing an old blanket, most likely a prop for one of the plays that used to be performed regularly, and pulled it out. He unfolded it, and could smell how stale it was. Still, it had to be warmer than just lying on the couch, and draped it over her. She took the top of the blanket, pulling up under her chin, and he watched as she turned toward her side.

“This blanket pleases the Great and Powerful Trixie, Trixie will enjoy it, and Trixie supposes that she will forgive you for your insult, but do not do it again.”

Seeing that she was at least going to be warm, for while at least, he looked at the clock on the wall. The show was going to last for a couple of hours, he had around thirty minutes before it began, and then it would be showtime. The theaters he’d worked at before usually gave him an hour, usually, to unwind and get prepared to leave before having him vacate the dressing room. In truth, he could only hope that they were going to do this for him now.

Looking at the mare on the couch, under the old blanket, he knew that she most likely didn’t have a place to go to. Which basically meant after the show, after the winding down, he’d be heading home, and she’d be back out on the street. That just didn’t sit well with him. Slowly, he went over it a few times before he walked out the door, closed it, and headed toward the stage.

“Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, Children of all Ages! For one night only, The Sheridan Theater proudly presents the Astounding Zackary O’Daniel!” the announcer shouted.

He walked out, thankful for the bright lights hiding the crowd. He flung his arms into the air and at that moment the pyrotechnics he’d helped set up went off creating a huge display on the front of the stage. Grinning at his captive audience he couldn’t see he removed his hat, and held it out.

“You know, it’s not often that I’m able to get around both pet ordinances and union laws at the same time, but I believe this is one of those times,” he said, to mild chuckles from the audience, setting the hat down on a stool. He dug around in it, which unknown to the audience the stool itself was hiding a small cage under the seat of it. From there he pulled out a small white rabbit, and grinned, “This is Lola, Lola Bunny. Lola Bunny here is going to become Lola my assistant in three,” he carried the bunny over to a cabinet and opened to show that it was empty, “Two,” he placed her inside and tapped on the door to indicate to the woman hiding behind the curtain where the cabinet was located to remove the bunny and step inside herself, “One!”

He opened the door and a beautiful red headed woman wearing a red vest, gold watch chain, a matching skirt, rabbit ears and a cottontail puff on the back of her leotard. The woman stepped out of the cabinet, playing the “transformation” by faking a concerted effort to walk on two legs. “Lola” made a show of examining her limbs, as if she hadn’t been in this from very often or at all. Then with a grin, she hopped on her stiletto heeled feet, giving a cute curtsy when she landed, first to the audience, then to Zachary. Upon her rise, she stepped up to Zachary and offered him a cheeky grin.

“Lola, so good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Zackary! So, what are we doing tonight?”

He grinned and extended his hands in the direction of the audience, “Why, we’re entertaining our guests.”

The next two hours he performed dozens of tricks, escapes, and illusions that he’d learned over several years of performing. Towards the end he stopped and breathed in a deep breath. The lights were going to go out, and he was going to have to see the audience and they would see him. It was needed, but it didn’t meant that he liked it at all. A moment later the lights began to dim, and he performed his show stopper. A holdover from the Great Houdini that he had learned about.

His assistant brought over a straight jacket, wrapping him into it, and walking him toward a large glass tank. He crawled into it, and within a moment it was sealed. It was down to time, and he knew it. A quick dislocation of his shoulder, bringing his arm out, relocating it, getting out of the jacket, unlocking the tank, and making sure he didn’t lose any time. It should have been perfect, but instead there was a faint Azure glow around the case, around him, and he found everything unlocking. He was lifted out, floating above the ground before he was dropped like a sack of potatoes. From behind a curtain the blue mare that he had brought in walked toward him. Rubbing her horn, groaning from the obvious overuse of her magic, but she stopped when she saw the audience.

“Behold, the Great and Powerful Trixie has shown her mastery of all things!”

Zackary was used to getting applause. He really was, but this was the first time that he had ever heard the entire theater explode like it did.

Author's Note

AN: Wow, Trixie in the Vogoverse. I want to thank you for reading and thanks to L0rd0f7hund3r for helping to read over it and add some to it.

Okay, but where do I sleep?

Real Magic

A Trixie Lulamoon in the Vogonverse Story

Chapter 2 - Okay, but where do I sleep?

(Boulder Colorado - 2061 - Wilkin’s House of Magic)

The decision of what to do about the… about Trixie wasn’t much of a decision at all. Zachary flipped on the switch to the magic shop as he entered. The lights flooded on, and around the pair was several glass cases containing cards, silk hats, capes, magic wands, and other odds and ins often found in a magician’s arsenal of fun. He could hear her hoof-falls as they walked. The sound of her breathing was close, and so was the warmth that flowed off of her.

“Where is this?” she asked.

“This is Wilkin’s House of Magic, my Grandfather owned this shop, and then my father, and now me. I don’t do any of the day to day parts of it, but I do live over it,” he replied.

Following him toward what looked like a simple section of the wall he held out his hand and moved it up the wall until it was resting on a slightly worn out piece of the paneling, “I speak of the true magic that resides in us all. I speak of the seasons that see our lives, and I speak of the immortals who watch us with glee. I speak because I am a conduit of magic, and a slave to its power.”

No sooner had he spoke the words then there was a rumbling sound and the wall separated revealing a staircase. He started to walk up it, and looked back toward her. She followed, uncertain of where it led, but trusting that he was indeed a decent sort, despite the earlier “miscommunications.” They walked up the stairs into a hallway. Unlike his grandfather his father had lived outside of the shop. He remembered his father raising him in an old ratty apartment, but when his father passed, and left him the shop, he found the old home up here. The only downside to it was there was only one bedroom.

He opened a door, and it revealed a large room, with a full size bed in the corner.

“Trixie sees only one bed. Is there another room with another bed?” she asked.

He shook his head, “No, I’ve only got the one room.”

“Then where is the Great and Powerful Trixie supposed to sleep?”

He sighed, not really feeling up to explaining everything, but instead he was ready to crash out on the couch, let her have the bed, and let sleep claim him.

“You take the bed, I’ll take the couch in the entertainment room. The bathroom is across the hall, it’s the only private bathroom in the building, so if you’re in it then shut the door. Otherwise I’m going to open it because I’m going to think that no one is in it.”

“Very well, Trixie shall ensure that the door is closed. Trixie is tired, and would like to go to bed.”

To accent her words she turned away from him, leaving him in the doorway, and he rolled his eyes. He caught a glimpse of her back as she shrugged off her cape. He watched as she undid the clasp that held the top of her dress together, and at that instant the lessons about manners, respecting a person’s privacy, and not being a creep came back to him and he turned around. Walking out of the room he closed the door.

Most people had a digital assistant that practically ran their homes. He had a digital assistant, Blackwolf the mutant wizard from the movie Wizards, but he didn’t depend on it. Instead most of the building worked exactly like it had for his grandfather. There were locks, voice recognition, and more traditional security measures, that were placed all over the building. He could go ahead and do the conversion. It wouldn’t be that expensive, and Blackwolf could run the building. With a guest in the house it might be a good idea.

“Do I really want to let him loose though?”

The question wasn’t without merit. Blackwolf was manipulative, impatient, and every bit as driven as his animated counterpart. Granted, he couldn’t do anything he wasn’t ordered to do, but just talking to the digital assistant often set him on edge. It was hard to explain, but he just didn’t like accessing him. Sure, it was little more than bits of code that made up an artificial intelligence driven avatar, but there was something malicious in it.

“If I decide to update the place maybe I’ll get a different Digital Assistant to oversee it.”

Leaving the thought alone he walked wearily toward the room that was the entertainment room. Opening the door he looked into the darkened room. An aging television set, an old cathode-ray tube set, sat on an antiquated entertainment center, turned off. Beside it sat an old VHS player, a DVD player, and the remains of a Beta Player. All of them had been owned by his grandfather, and from what he understood they still worked.

What called to him though was the couch. It was an old pull-out, one of those old hide-a-bed deals, something unfashionably convenient at the cost of greater comfort. He had the choice, pull out the mattress, have a mostly full sized bed, or settle for a semi comfortable lying spot. In the end, his tired mind and weary body won out and he just slumped down onto the couch. He felt it sinking in, taking his bulk, and conforming to fit him. He let out a yawn, and then felt sleep take him.

Zachary wasn’t sure how many hours had passed, but the light shining into the room from outside slowly worked to wake him up. He opened an eye and saw the room washed in a soft golden glow. The sun was up, shining, and letting the world know that the day was ready to begin. He groaned, slowly standing, and felt the new tightness in his back. He tried to stretch, only feeling the tightness getting worse.

There was no doubt in his mind that he had slept wrong on the couch. The simple answer would be to take a hot shower, let the water relax his back, and just go on about his day. He walked out of the entertainment room, toward the bathroom, and found the door just barely open a crack. He’d told Trixie that not shutting the door meant no one was in the room. He opened it, heard the shower, saw the glass door, and the Azure body behind it.

His eyes widened as he stood there, transfixed on what he was seeing. She was curvy, her figure was something to behold, and he was unable to look away from it. Then there was her voice. She was singing, and it sounded amazing. He could see her working her hands into a lather, trying to get her hair, or would it be better to say mane, clean. He finally stopped, and tried to turn around, but his uncertain step caused him to bump into the sink.

Before he could stop himself he let out a curse at the sink, and of course the glass he had sitting on it for rinsing his mouth out after brushing them fell to the floor and shattered. He saw the figure behind the glass door stop moving, he no longer heard singing, and instead he saw the door open, and the same set of violet eyes he had seen yesterday, but they looked surprised, and angry. Yes there was some anger there. He stepped back, hoping to avoid making a situation any worse, but that plan had completely went out of the window.

“Trixie is taking a shower!”

“I said to close the door.”

“Trixie closed the door! Trixie closed it, and you came in to look at Trixie!”

“No, it wasn’t closed, it was closed over! That’s not closed!”

There was a faint azure glow that covered him, and he felt himself being lifted, and then thrown out of the room. He landed, once again on his ass, against the wall, and watched as the door closed. Slowly, he got up, unsure of what exactly transpired, and walked toward the small kitchenette that his grandfather had added when he made the apartment over the shop. The unfortunate business of being denied his hot shower had turned his attention to a cup of hot coffee. Perhaps it was a poor substitute, but at least he would be able to enjoy it without being thrown out of the room.

He turned on the electric burner, grabbed the antique coffee percolator, and began the process of making coffee. He considered just making a couple of cups worth, but then the thought of his guest entered his mind. He wasn’t sure if she would even drink coffee, but it would be rude to not offer it. So, instead he mixed enough for the entire eight cups the percolator would hold. The course ground coffee had a strong smell to it, something he found that he liked. It wasn’t the most expensive brand. Hell, who was he kidding, it was just Chock Full O’ Nuts, but his grandfather had introduced him to the coffee, and he did enjoy it.

He started to smell the brew as it began to percolate, and he grabbed a couple of mugs. It wouldn’t do any good to have coffee with no food, so he opened his refrigerator and found some fruit, potatoes, eggs, and some left over coffee cake.

He took out the coffee cake, a few eggs, the potatoes, and began working on a proper breakfast. First thing was peeling the potatoes, running them through a grater, and then putting the finished product into a pan. It joined the Percolator on the range, and soon that pan was joined with another that had a few cracked eggs in it.

He was busy enough he didn’t notice the azure mare behind him. He didn’t see her muzzle twitching. She walked closer, and stopped.

“Trixie smells something.”

He turned around to see her wrapped in a towel. Thankful that she wasn’t making her horn glow he relaxed, “Yeah, I’m cooking some breakfast. If you want some it should be done in a few minutes.”

“Trixie would enjoy that. Trixie would like to know if Trixie can borrow some clothes.”

“Okay, sure, and seriously please, don’t keep referring to yourself in third person.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “But Tri… I’ve always done that.”

“I’m sure you have,” he said as he stirred the eggs making them scrambled, flipped the hash browns over, and checked the coffee, “But you don't have anyone to impress here. Since it’s just us what do you say to keeping it first person?”

She nodded, “Trixie, I, will try.”

He nodded, stopped what he was doing and rubbed his chin, “In the room you slept in last night there’s a closet. On the left side of it is some of my old sweat suits. Go ahead and borrow one of them. We’ll figure out something else for clothes for you a little later on.”

She walked out, and he watched as she left. He didn’t like crowds, but it was often lonely here alone. She was company, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Besides, if nothing else she was very nice to look at. He thought about seeing her in the bathroom, nude as a blue jay, and nearly as soon as that thought entered his mind he stopped it. She was a guest in his house, someone with nowhere to go. The right thing to do was to help her, be a friend, if she wanted one, and that was it. With that decision he went back to the breakfast he was preparing, and smiled.

“Sometimes the greatest things in world come from Friendship. You told me that Grandpa, and let's see if you’re right.”