The table saw

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I press the switch, and the saw goes on with an ominous whir. Spinning fast, its teeth a blur of deadly metal, it begins sliding its way up between Sharon's legs. My wife feebly struggles with the restraints. She isn't really trying to break free, though, so much as just testing how well-secured she is. Soon the saw reaches and passes contact point, sinking undisturbed into her body. Sharon screams, back arched and feet flexed, as if in orgasmic pleasure. A prolonged, piercing, agonizing shriek in unison with the whirring of the saw. Her stiff form shudders all over as the disc, buried in her belly, steadily makes its way up along her spine. There is no blood or gore to be seen, just a thin dark line in the saw's trail. The spinning blade slides between and past Sharon's breasts, bisecting her neck, then her head, on its way out of her. My wife's mouth stays wide open and screaming even as the saw visibly passes through it.
Its job done, the device powers off automatically.

I take a step closer to the table.

Sharon, now two mirror halves of a young woman, is whimpering and shaking, her face red and covered in tears and sweat. Her eyes are shut tight. Her nipples are hard.

"Well?" I ask. "Did it go the way you wanted?"

Sharon still doesn't open her eyes, but her restrained hand manages a thumb's-up.
Something is going on with her body. It looks like it is swelling around the fresh wound, all the length of it. Some kind of thick, flesh-coloured foam is oozing out from the two sections, spreading them apart as it collects into the gap in-between. The goo then begins to solidify into body parts that quickly, though not completely, restore either half of Sharon into an independent clone of the original. When the process comes to an end, my wife has two twin heads that stand each on its own neck, sprouting from an enlarged pair of shoulders that cap a three-breasted torso. From her ribs downward her body gracefully tapers down to normal proportions, except for her groin ending in two vaginas that elbow each other for space.  

Sharon opens her eyes, all four of them, and groggily lifts her heads to look down at herself. One head smiles, the other one tells me to release her. I help her sit up on the edge of the table.

"Hello there, gorgeous," says one twin to the other, reaching out a hand to stoke through her hair. "I've been fantasizing about those soft, plump lips of yours for a damn while now, you know?"

"So have I," says the other one in a whisper.

With that they tilt their heads and lock lips like two sweethearts, caressing their shared body in various spots as they make out. Just when I'm convinced that they've completely forgot about my presence, the conjoined twins that are my wife break the wet kiss and turn towards me.

"So? What do you think?" asks right-side Sharon. "How do I look?" adds the other one.

"Honestly?" I say, admiring the grotesquely erotic sprawl of curves across their naked body, with its two belly buttons so close together that they almost touch. "Like a lot of work for one man alone, that's how."

Right-side Sharon giggles. Left-side Sharon gives me a sly brow raise.

"Well, I did say that I wanted to play around a little, didn't I?"