The Book of Division Ch. 01

When Molly stepped out of the shower, she'd barely gotten the towel around herself before Fran stepped into the bathroom.

"It came! I can't believe it actually came!"

"What?" Molly said, grabbing the hair dryer.

"The Book of Division!"

Molly rolled her eyes. Fran just wouldn't stop talking about her books. She swore they were incantations that really let her do impossible things, but Molly just didn't buy it. The Tome of Spontaneous Light and the Grimoire of Telekinesis were just those – books.

For one thing, the so-called impossible things were only told to her after the fact, having happened entirely behind Fran's door. After she got the Grimoire of Telekinesis, Fran had indeed rearranged her room, though Molly found it unlikely through supernatural means. She'd spent about four hours behind the locked door, bookshelves squeaking the whole time. If she had moved everything with her mind, Molly might as well have helped her get it done; it might've been quicker.

For another thing, Molly didn't believe in supernatural bullshit, as she called it. Extinguishing candles was just a clever way of blowing on them, and reading minds was playing the crowd. Everything had an answer. In the land of skeptics, Molly told herself, she would reign supreme.

So as Fran shoved a leather tome in her face, Molly just pushed it away and grabbed the hair dryer.

"Don't you want to hit the bars later? I need to do my hair."

"I do," Fran said, thumbing through the yellowed pages. "And I've got just the thing to help us."

"You do? Let's have it, then."

"You know how you say it would be easier to do your hair if you could take your head off?"

"Yeah. And your point is?"

Fran switched to her very best first-level French accent and said in a loud voice as she dragged her finger across the line of text:

Venez-vous, bete, Et detachez sa tete!

She lifted her finger from the page and pointed it at Molly's face.

Nothing happened. Molly stopped drying her hair and looked around. She looked at her neck in the mirror. She looked over at Fran. And then she laughed.

"Looks like I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way."

Fran looked somewhat disappointed.

"I would've sworn that would work. They guaranteed the spells would work when I bought it."

Molly turned back to the mirror, but she stopped at what she saw.

There was a thin line on her neck. A rogue hair, perhaps, from the shower? She pinched at it, but found no purchase. She turned a little, confirming that it did, in fact, go all the way around. She put the dryer down and laughed just a little. She was seeing things. She leaned in to wipe some steam from the mirror.

Two things happened at once. Molly's field of vision rapidly changed. Her hand was still on the mirror, wiping condensation – she could feel that. But all she could see now was the interior of the sink. She felt a million butterflies in her stomach.

At the same time, Fran screamed and jumped, dropping the book on the carpet.

"Holy fuck!" she cried. "It worked! It really worked! Wait, are you alright?"

"No, I just slipped. Really, it's okay,"

"No, no it's not okay. Reach down into the sink."

"Yes, Fran, I fell and my head hit the..."

But as Molly looked up, she saw pair of olive skinned hands coming at her face from straight ahead. She followed them up to a pair of shoulders capped by a bloodless stump. Below them, a sizable pair of breasts wrapped tight in a white towel.

Molly was looking up at her own headless body.

"I can't believe this," she breathed. "Is that my body?"

"Yeah," said Fran, leaning on one of Molly's shoulders. She felt could feel her roommate's warm hand. "This is the old Mark I Molly. Are you still controlling it? Wait, are you the body or the head?"

"Both," Molly said. She still had control over both; she'd now lifted her head out of the sink and had turned it to look at her body. "I can't believe this. Did you drug me or something?"

"No, Mols, I didn't drug anything."

"How am I even talking? I'm not connected to my lungs." Molly took a deep breath. Her chest rose and fell. The towel felt looser around her. Instinctively she took a step towards her room. Only it was backward, and she bumped into Fran.

"Might want to turn yourself around there."

"Yes, I'd say." Molly clumsily turned her head around and pulled her hair out of her eyes. Holding it out in front of her like a cross to a demon, she marched to her door, still somewhat shocked that her head had detached itself from her body.

"Can you, um, can you find a reversal spell or something, Fran?" She said it mechanically, automatically, like a doughboy stepping out of a bombed-out trench.

"Yeah, miles ahead of you Mols!" came Fran's voice from the living room. "I'll get you right as rain in a minute. Just get ready! Those bars aren't going to hit themselves!"

Molly nodded, but nothing happened.

"Right, it's not attached," she said to herself, stepping into her room. She kicked the door shut behind her and set her head down on her desk.

"What the fuck?" she said aloud. She sat down in her chair and leaned forward to give herself a good view of her neck. It was just a stump, about two inches tall, capped with flesh the same tone as the rest of her body. She touched it gingerly, but it felt no different than touching her back or forearm.

She reached out and tilted her head back to touch the skin she imagined capped her head beneath her jaw. It offered the same sensations.

"Weird," she said as she stood and disrobed.

For just a brief second, as she watched the towel fall around her headless body, she felt primal lust rising up within her. She'd never had such a good view of her tits; they were always foreshortened. Often Molly felt as though she were more a stout troll than anything, looking down. Now, standing naked beside the desk chair, she saw the body of a cover girl; maybe even, as she turned to side to look at her ass, a girl on the cover of Maxim, if her head were obscured by the "X."

She ran her hands over her chest, watching breathlessly. She cupped her breasts for a moment, tweaking her nipples slightly, and followed them with her eyes as she let them fall. Molly proceeded to her stomach, angling her hands downwards as if they needed to plunge behind the waistband of a pair of tight jeans.

Plunge they did, straight between her legs. It surprised her, how wet she was. Maybe it was still the shower water, but Molly thought it was something more as she slipped a finger inside.

"Jesus," she said, both at the pleasure and the odd spectacle in front of her. "Never thought I'd finger myself...oh...for an audience."

Without preamble she grabbed her head from the desk and brought it over to her bed. She could see her chest getting red and imagined her face was even more so. She planted her head as firmly as she could on the blankets, bunching them up around her jawline, and then climbed on.

Molly smirked at her pussy, which was now eye level, as she rubbed her clit. She moaned and would've thrown her head back, but without a neck she stayed put. Inches away she felt her breath on her pubic mound and the back of her hand.

"Oh God," she whispered. It was an inevitability now. "I'm going to eat myself out. Fuck!"

She scooted closer and watched her body move up, hair tickling her nose. She could smell herself, sweat and smut, on her hand and lips. The sound of her fingers thrusting into herself was so much clearer, so much louder, from here.

Molly looked up to see her pendulous tits swinging above her head. Her nipples stuck out, almost painfully, like pebbles. She closed her eyes when she felt her clit on her nose and, overcome, grabbed her head with two eager hands and shoved it between her legs.

The feeling of her tongue and mouth on her clit and pussy was completely new. Molly felt stupid horny at this point, felt the sweat on her forehead and shoulders, felt her breasts bouncing on her chest, felt the heat on her inner thighs. She leaned forward in her excitement and tilted her head back so that her full weight rested on it. It felt so good, so unbelievably good, so good she wanted to come.

She did. In the brief second before orgasm, Molly's eyes were wide open. Her clit had thrust itself out from her hood and was completely at the mercy of her tongue, which was twisting and lapping at it in ways she'd never felt before. She grabbed at her breasts and saw, past the tuft of hair at the end of her nose – she'd shave it later – two hands, her hands, grabbing two full breasts, her breasts, from below, from an impossible angle.

I'm separated, but still in control. I'm in two places at once. I can feel everything. God, I'm eating myself out. Jesus, fuck, I'm coming!

Molly screamed as loud as she could into her pussy. She blinked and saw her body on top of her, spasming, leaning over in its uninhibited bliss to show her the stump where her head should be, saw her breasts swinging directionlessly, saw her fingers clenching the air and coming down to grab her head to push it closer to her pussy.

And then she fell off of herself, back onto the sheets and blankets to lay there for a moment. Her head fell back to a level position and she watched, tired, as her chest rose and fell. One hand snaked down to her deep red pussy to lightly rub her lips, and she moved the other one to her neck to pinch the skin, to reassure herself that her head really was between her legs.

"Oh my God," she whispered. She felt ashamed, somehow. She sat up next to her head and grabbed the towel, drying herself off.

For the next few minutes, Molly watched herself get dressed. It was not only odd to watch herself from across the room, but also to attempt to find clothes without being able to see them. After she found panties and a bra, Molly gave up looking for a shirt without her head and brought it over to the dresser to help.

She was struggling to pull her pants up with her head under her arm when she heard Fran's voice from the living room.

"Got it, Molly, got it!"

"That's great, Fran, be out in a second!"

She stepped from her room with her head in a towel, still drying it off. Fran came up to her, book open in her hand.

"It's not hard at all. Just had to find it in the index. You know that thing's basically a mile long."

Fran stepped over beside Molly and put the open book down on the counter.

"You need to hand me your head for this to work. If I read it right, I've got to put it back on."

Molly shrugged – an odd movement – and passed her head off to her roommate, then leaned on the counter.

"Whenever you're ready," she said from Fran's hands.

Fran didn't seem to hear her, she was busy lining up Molly's head while looking at the incantation. "You didn't do your hair while you were decapitated," she chided jokingly. "That was the whole point, you know?"

"Hey, you try to get dressed from across the room."

"I just might," Fran mused as she pushed down on Molly's head. "Alright, here it goes."

Allez-vous, bete, Et attachez sa tete!

Molly breathed deep as she put her hands to her head. She turned her head left and right. She was back in one piece.

"Wow. That was something else, Fran," she said.

Fran just nodded and tried to hide her grin.

"What's wrong?" said Molly. As she looked down, she saw the problem. "You put my head on backwards." She caught sight of her ass and smiled. "Nice view, though."

"It's my first time. Go easy on me, you narcissist."

Molly couldn't help but laugh and Fran started flipping through the pages once more.