WARNING: The following story is fetish smut, made for perverts who enjoy natural body magic/detachment/disassembling people non-lethally. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.
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“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Kelly said, the lunette clapping shut around her neck.
“You say that every time.” Carlos dispassionately replied, giving the guillotine’s release mechanism a final inspection.
“And every idea is worse than the last! If I weren’t so disappointed, I'd be impressed!” She said, eyeing the glistening steel blade with its pink-ish sheen.
“If you keep going along with the hair brained schemes of someone who only makes bad choices, what does that say about you?” Carlos retorted, seeing his girlfriends look and picking up a rag from a half empty bucket of bubblegum pink sludge. He rubbed it across the blade, ensuring that every last square millimeter of steel was coated in a roughly even layer of the miracle compound.
“I’ve got a legitimate medical condition! You’re just stupid!” Kelly said, like it was the hundred and first time she’d explained this.
“Sure. A licensed medical professional diagnosed you with adrenaline junkie-ism.” Carlos replied, tossing the rag aside and inspecting the drop distance between Kelly’s head and the plastic ramp he’d cobbled together from some children's slides.
Kelly released an exasperated groan. “I told you, it’s got a real medical name! I just don’t remember it! I take pills for it!”
Carlos stood, stopping his safety inspection to cast Kelly a dubious gaze. She took a sudden interest in one of the walls, a nervous smile taking over her scarred lips. “I mean, they prescribed me pills. But I can’t concentrate for shit when I’m taking them. Plus they make me gassy, so…”
Carlos let out a half sarcastic sigh and grabbed the lever, wrapping his fingers gingerly around the bicycle break turned safety. “So, hypothetically, what would you want your epitaph to read?”
Kelly thought it over. “I guess, ‘Carlos, you idiot’? How’s that?”
“Profound.” Carlos answered, squeezing the brake without pulling the lever. “Seriously though, do you want to switch positions? Or call this off? I won’t be offended, I won’t think less of you, and I will never ask you to do this again if it makes you uncomfortable. Do I have your consent to pull this lever?”
Kelly imagined the shimmering blade now dangling over her neck gliding through Carlos’ instead. She frowned. Her boyfriend lived life like he was attempting a 100% completion run of the human experience. He wanted to try magic because... well, because he hadn't yet. It made no difference to him who got chopped, so long as he participated. Kelly, on the other hand, had volunteered for her fetishistic love of danger, fear, and peril. She lived for cheating death, the rush of adrenaline and endorphins she got whenever she felt the reaper over her shoulder and she got to flip him off. And what could be more dangerous, perilous, and fear inducing than literally putting her neck on the line, climbing into a guillotine cobbled together from junk and spare parts, and letting an overenthusiastic hobbyist chop her head off?
While it's true that 'magic paste' was by now world famous, tried by around a dozen million people already, it was also true that for every thousand videos of people being harmlessly dismembered and reassembled with paste treated blades, there was also a new scare mongering horror story about some dickhead killing his girlfriend because he cheaped out on ingredients, or a ditz castrating her man because she thought only the edge needed to be coated not the whole blade surface, or whatever. These stories however didn't scare Kelly off, but excited her! This could very well kill her! And if it didn’t, which it probably wouldn’t, it would be the ultimate thrill! Like hell she was going to let Carlos take her place!
She shifted her gaze to her beloved boyfriend, a grin spreading from one ear to the remaining half of her left ear. “Do it pussy! You won’t! No balls!”
Carlos verified his testicle license and yanked the lever, releasing the blade with a heavy “K’CHUNK!” Kelly screamed; if Carlos had gotten the mixture wrong, or had missed a spot, or if the steel wasn’t as magic grade as the hardware store clerk had claimed, these would be her final moments. Her heart slammed into her ribs in an attempt to escape its suicidally stupid body, her pupils all but eclipsed her irises, and her unpolished and chipped nails dug into her palms as Schrödinger’s blade fell. This fraction of a second could be the abrupt culmination of a long and memorable twenty four year existence, and the denial of many more years of happiness, heartbreaks, companions, and struggles. All of it gambled on a boredom induced experiment.
Her muscles shook. Her body tensed. Her eyes squeezed shut. This is what she lived for.
Kelly felt a sudden weightlessness, saw the garage ceiling retreating and her black and orange dyed hair filling her peripherals, felt the sensation of her head hitting the slide Carlos had set up in place of the traditional basket. She hadn't even felt the blade, but given all the other evidence, Kelly concluded that the guillotine had done its job. She’d been beheaded. She made one full rotation, then screamed.
Wait, she screamed! Her severed head had screamed!
Screaming turned to laughter as the room transformed into a mess of blurred colors and shapeless masses, her head bouncing and tumbling down the slide and colliding with the soft rubber bowling pins Carlos had placed at the end. It worked! She was alive! He’d done magic! Carlos, was a genius!
Her head came to rest on a pile of crash mats set up behind the pins, resting on her right cheek with her big crooked nose acting like a kickstand. “Seven-ten split.” Carlos said, his shadow darkening Kelly's view. “Looks like you’re just as bad a bowling ball as you are a bowler.”
Kelly tried to shift her dazed and dizzy gaze from the rocking sea of blue mats to glare at her boyfriend, but caught only a corner of his curly hair and a bit of broad shoulder in her peripheral. “Say that to my face, coward!” She said, her cheeks breaking out in a dorky, patchy blush and her lips forcing themselves into the exaggerated frown she always made when trying to look angry while suppressing a laugh.
Carlos shrugged and plucked his crazy girlfriend’s head off the mats by her burning cheeks. “You know, I was going to make the obvious ‘airhead’ joke, and I know you’re not supposed to comment on a girl’s weight, but you really are as heavy as a bowling ball.” He said, his palms having to squish her face to keep from dropping her.
“A million hobbies and none of them weightlifting? You noodle armed mpfff-mmm…” Kelly's cut off head was in turn cut off by his tongue as Carlos brought her in for a kiss more passionate than any in recent memory. Kelly felt Carlos’ breath roll down her cheek in short puffs, and could feel his fingers trembling as he held her; despite the unflappable act, Carlos had been scared too. Kelly returned the kiss with equal passion, the exhilarating rush of survival relief mixing with more mundane sexual urges and intensifying every flick of the tongue and tremor in Carlos’ hands. She was soaking wet, and slipping a hand beneath her panties, she…
Er, trying to slip. Trying to move. Trying... no. She couldn’t move. She stopped kissing, eyes going wide. “What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, noticing Kelly’s panic.
“I… I can’t move!” Kelly said, trying to look at herself. Carlos spun her around, showing Kelly her limp body.
“Can you feel it?” Carlos asked, rushing over and grabbing Kelly’s left arm. It weakly flinched in response, its fingers curling and unfurling as Carlos lifted her wrist.
“Yeah, uh, I think. I think I can still feel it. But maybe… Uh, hang on.” Kelly closed her eyes. “Okay, poke me somewhere.” Carlos did as she asked, jabbing her gently in the “left thigh, outer. Again, poke somewhere.” She said, and Carlos touched her “stomach. Middle-ish.”, and finally flicking her “Ah! Piercing! Nipple piercing. Right. I can definitely feel it, I’m not in shock. I actually do feel it.”
Carlos breathed a sigh of relief, though it didn’t dispel his concern. “Okay, so you can feel your body, but can’t move it?”
“Yeah, it feels normal, but none of my muscles are listening to me. I felt my hand twitch, but it was reflexive. It’s like I’m paralyzed or… oh shit, am I paralyzed?!” Kelly asked, her heart rate spiking from several feet away.
“Uh… no. No, you couldn’t… why…?” Carlos set Kelly’s head on his workbench, leaving the possibly crippled woman facing her possibly useless body in a way that would quite possibly haunt her every nightmare. He flipped open his laptop and studied the magic paste recipe. What’d gone wrong? The recipe was from a legit site, he’d done all the steps in the proper order, used all the right ingredients, properly coated the blade, he’d checked everything beforehand and made sure it was all in date…
As Carlos frantically Googled, Kelly observed her body. With only a loose tank top and short shorts to cover what modesty she had, Kelly could see most of the intricate web of scars and ill-advised tattoos that her wild lifestyle and punk stylings had accumulated. A splotchy red patch on her outer right thigh, acquired in a fall from her sorority’s balcony and a mild impaling on the picket fence below. A grinning blue oni face on her bicep to commemorate her foreign-exchange ex declaring her a “laughing mad devil bitch” in the middle of his break-up speech. The long, thin scar that split the oni’s face in half from when she’d been thrown off a mechanical bull and cut herself on the horn scrambling back on before the attendant saw. The small round scar on either side of her right hand where a nail had been shot through, and the accompanying bracelet of thorns she’d had tattooed around the wrist because “If Jesus gets a whole crown, I've earned a bracelet!” Kelly loved these marks, and the dozens of other trophies she’d collected. While many saw skin like hers as a catalogue of mistakes, Kelly saw her scars and ink as proof she lived a life with nothing held back. They were the beauty of a life lived.
“Ok, so, the good news is that I didn’t cripple you.” Carlos said, snapping Kelly from her philosophical funk.
“Oh thank-… what’s the bad news?” Kelly asked, cycling through emotions faster than her voice could keep up with.
“Short term? Nothing. We just reassemble you in a ‘biologically feasible position’ and you’ll be back to normal, like nothing ever happened. Long term? You got the short end of the magic stick. Says about one in a thousand people are allergic to the paste and can’t move anything not attached to them, attach their parts to other people, or attach things in the wrong place. So, you’re not physically handicapped, but are magic-handicapped.”
The orgasmic rush of relief Kelly normally felt cheating death was absent. Of all the allergies she could've possibly had, why this? Shit, couldn’t she have just had a shellfish allergy? She hated shrimp anyway! “That sucks.”
“Sorry Kel, I know you were looking forward to some third person ass-kicking.” Carlos said, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead consolingly. Feeling Carlos’ warmth perked her up, and when he broke the kiss and cradled her in the arms that, despite her teasing, clearly did lift, she giggled. For such an outdoorsy, tough-guy-looking stoic, Carlos was a total teddy bear, and getting cuddled like this made Kelly feel like a teddy bear herself. Despite her love of all things dangerous, she paradoxically loved the sense of safety Carlos provided. He always had her back, even when she didn’t have one.
As he approached her body, adjusting his grip on her head so he could reposition her body for reassembly, a thought occurred to her. “Carlos, did it say anything about a time limit? I know on normies like you the magic lasts indefinitely, but does the magic wear off or something for us minorities?”
Carlos chuckled. “It didn’t mention a time limit, and if there was one I feel it'd be important safety information worth mentioning.” He said, glancing over his shoulder and squinting futilely at the tiny text on the shitty screen across the room. “And how do you know I’m a normie? We could be the statistically one in… wow, literally one in a million couples that share a paste allergy. Why do you think I’m putting you back together before I lop myself? Wouldn’t want to trap us in my garage forever.”
“Well, if there’s no time limit, then why don’t we have some fun?” Kelly asked, a coy edge to her voice as her smile rubbed Carlos’ side. “Come on, you’ve got a helpless, smoking hot body at your mercy and a beautiful, equally helpless head. A head which, need I remind you, can still feel every perverted thing you do to that body but can do nothing about it. Believe me, I know how much a strong, fearless, independent woman like me threatens your fragile masculinity. Haven't you always wanted to assert your dominance? To put me in my place, once and for all?”
“You’re right… I could use you as a footrest!” Carlos said, spinning on his heels and bounding to the living room door, bouncing Kelly’s field of view sickeningly.
“CARLOS, GET YOUR ASS BACK OVER THERE AND FUCK ME!” Kelly demanded, screwing her eyes shut in a mix of frustration and nausea.
Carlos stopped at the door. “I don’t know, you look like an awfully comfortable footrest.” He drummed his fingers across Kelly’s scalp. “And if I do what you told me to, I’m not really asserting dominance, am I?”
Kelly huffed, blowing the coldest puff of air she could up at Carlos’ drumming hand. “Carlos, you came home from a street race with actual gangsters and proceeded to crochet a sweater for the neighbor's cat. While listening to the Sweeny Todd soundtrack. You're more confident in your masculinity than your English."
“¿Qué quieres decir?” Carlos asked, cranking his accent up several notches to hide the fact that English was both his first and more comfortable language.
“Come on, quit being such a dick and dick me!” Kelly pleaded, trying to will her body to wave him on. Its toes twitched, but nothing close to a wave was done and none of its feeble twitches were a response to her efforts.
Kelly could almost hear the gears in Carlos’ head turn, as he calculated how hard he could push Kelly’s buttons before she blew up. Several still seconds passed, before Carlos turned around and approached his headless, helpless, hot as hell girlfriend’s body. He set Kelly’s head down on her stomach, on its side, facing her breasts. While she enjoyed the heat of her fit belly against her cheek and ear, the view was unimpressive. “Damn, are my boobs really that small?” Kelly asked, disappointed by her fairly unobstructed view.
“You’re on your back, gravity’s squishing them down.” Carlos assured, patting her cheek and pulling her short shorts down her thighs along with her panties. Kelly immediately forgot her boob woes, her whole body shuddering and threatening to buck off her head. She felt the soft cotton clothes slip off the tips of her toes, heard them flop to the floor, and then an agonizingly long period of nothing happened. Either Carlos was thinking of the best way to fuck her, was currently fucking with her, or both.
Kelly had just opened her mouth to complain when a pair of strong hands grabbed her head, causing her to let out a squeaky yelp. She heard a suppressed giggle, but not knowing what he had in mind she kept her lips sealed to avoid further embarrassment. She looked down at her body, its toned arms and muscular thighs hanging uselessly off her sides. She watched as her view was brought back, far enough to give her a sort of ‘establishing shot’ of herself, then brought back in and down, down, down…
“You deviant!” Kelly said, her tender neck stump coming to rest on the thinly cushioned bed of the guillotine right between her legs, close enough to her exposed slit and ass to smell both. She’d never observed this side of herself so closely before, and being this close made everything almost unfamiliar. She recognized the folds, felt them quiver with anticipation as her breath ricocheted off the guillotine into them, but she had a hard time accepting that this is what she’d had between her legs her whole life. It looked so much more... enticing? Inviting? Kelly couldn’t find the word; despite her punk aesthetic and the associated stereotypes, Kelly had never felt sexual attraction aimed at a woman. She was strictly straight, but seeing her body like this… well, she wasn’t sure if it qualified as gay, it being her own body, but she felt like she now had a better understanding of what attracted people to women.
Kelly didn’t know how long she’d been left to ogle herself, but eventually she felt Carlos’ hands slide down the back of her head, and heard him say “Kelly, as my first act of dominance assertion, I'm going to say something I've needed to say for a long time...” Carlos gulped theatrically as he pretended to summon up the courage to say “Go fuck yourself!”
Kelly gasped in pretend offense, and her wide open mouth was immediately shoved into her wide spread slit with a wet slapping sound that bounced off her thick thighs and rang beautifully in her ear and a half. She’d never tasted herself from the source before, only second hand through kissing or blowing someone who’d just been down here, and within seconds she concluded it was infinitely better fresh. Salty, gamey, a bit tangy, and with a hint of mint left over from her soap, it was far closer to cock than she’d been expecting but with very different proportions of each flavor and far more potency than any rod. She’d never tell Carlos, but even after only a minute of self indulgent head, she knew that she enjoyed this taste so much more than his dick.
That said, she’d also never tell him that he was way, way better at pussy eating. Despite being her own body, a body Kelly knew intimately, her cunnilingus virginity was abundantly apparent. Once the novelty wore off, Kelly found herself on the receiving end of awkward, uncoordinated head, delivered by someone with no muscle memory or experience. It was like her first time in the back of what's-his-face's car all over again! She tried doing everything she liked; opening and closing her mouth in an alternating pattern, giving plenty of attention to the space between her outer and inner labia, using her tongue to alternatively dive deep and give shallow flicks, things Carlos did that drove her wild, but it just wasn’t working. Her body went limp, save for some toe twitches and shoulder jerks, and she started to wish she could just use her hands instead. She at least knew what she was doing with those!
Carlos had either learned mind reading or could read Kelly’s body language impeccably, as Kelly felt Carlos take up her limply hanging left hand and drop it onto her breast with a muffled clap. Kelly nearly bit both sets of lips as her palm bounced off her nipple bar and rested its weight on her tender flesh. Her hand started to slide off the uneven surface, but Carlos’ fingers wrapped between hers and firmly pressed Kelly’s palm into herself, twisting her hand slowly but forcefully and twisting the soft shirt and hard piercing trapped beneath. Kelly let out a deep, satisfied sigh into her own crotch, feeling her thighs tense up around her head and her back arch up off the guillotine as an electric current coursed out from her nipple and through her whole body. While a low bar, pun intended, Kelly always knew that her nipple piercings were her best financial investments!
With renewed vigor, Kelly got back to eating herself out, experimentally probing her folds and trying any random maneuver that popped into her head, until she found a winning rhyth of kisses and licks that had her thighs squeezing her ears and her throat halves impotently whining. Then, she was lifted by the hair and plopped onto her belly, where she watched her hand slide off her boob and flop back down to a useless hanging position. “Oh come on, I was just getting the hang of that!”
“I know.” Carlos said. “And I might just let you have another go.” He rotated her head slowly, Kelly’s shirt twisting and bunching up beneath her neck stump. When she was face to crotch with Carlos, she saw that he’d somehow managed to slip his own pants off silently and without using either of his hands, the pink tip of his tan dick at Kelly’s new eye level. “If you’re willing to share some of that head.”
Kelly smiled, her hips involuntarily squirming beneath her. “Willing? Dude, you’re in charge here!”
Carlos sauntered up and plopped his dick on Kelly’s face, her eyes going cross to focus on his thick shaft while his balls drooped down her smashed nose and rested against her lips. He felt her smile against his sack, warm breath rolling across the tender skin, then felt her tongue. She flicked it with exaggerated slurping sounds, like how a cartoon character would lick a lollipop, and Carlos shook like a leaf, his fingers tightening in Kelly’s hair as she coated each smoothly shaved ball in saliva. She was too good at this. His knees buckling, Carlos grabbed the first thing he could reach for support, which just so happened to be the nub of neck Kelly’s body still had attached to its shoulders.
Feeling fingertips digging into the magically generated flesh, Kelly closed her eyes and was forced to stop licking as she moaned, body bucking beneath her. It was such tender flesh, so close to such sensitive nerves. She felt Carlos’ hands both inside and out of her, her brain having no way of interpreting that and going haywire.
With her mouth wide open and her eyes closed, Carlos took the opportunity to slide his cock down her face and jam it in. While this definitely took Kelly by surprise, the allergic reaction she had to magic hadn't impacted one of its well documented effects. Severed heads couldn't choke, and had no gag reflex. They breathed only reflexively, but nothing would happen if they stopped. Carlos buried himself to the base without warning on first thrust, something he’d never done before and something Kelly never would’ve appreciated before, yet Kelly’s only reaction was a surprised hum followed by a muffled moan. She dutifully wrapped her tongue around his shaft and began sucking for all she was worth, looking up at him with a wanting gaze. Carlos tightened his grip on both Kelly’s head and her neck stump, and thrust slowly but forcefully, grinding her nose against his groin and pinning his balls against her body’s side. While Kelly still preferred her own flavor, the familiarity she had with cocksucking generally and sucking Carlos' cock specifically made this oral experience more enjoyable. She was in her element, and that confidence satisfied herself almost as much as she was satisfying Carlos.
Almost. Carlos’ breath was getting shallow, his balls were aching, and sooner than he would’ve liked he was on the edge. Pulling himself out with a loud ‘pop’ before he was too far gone, Carlos stepped back and took a moment to cool off. “Damn girl, you trying to suck me off or suck my soul out?”
Kelly smiled, her panting stomach rocking her head. “How else am I to maintain my eternal youth? You mortals always ask the stupidest questions.”
“Shit.” Carlos said, unable to come up with a clever retort. The two of them laughed, and after another few deep breaths, Carlos fished through his discarded pants’ pockets and pulled out a condom. "Well, immortal or not, I'm going in for the kill!” Carlos replied, causing Kelly to giggle so hard she toppled off her stomach. Before she could fall too far, Carlos caught her and set her on a toolbox on the nearest work bench, giving her an excellent view of the unfolding action.
Carlos pulled the safety orange condom down his dick and grabbed Kelly’s thighs with a force that had her head gasping. He pulled Kelly’s body further down the bed of the guillotine, dragging her ass across the fabric and to the edge of the bed, her legs lowering until her feet touched the cold cement floor. Parting Kelly’s legs and stepping between them, Carlos sank his fingers into her sides and sent a ticklish surge through her. Her legs gave two out of sync kicks as her head laughed, though Kelly’s uncontrollable body was incapable of slapping Carlos across the face for tickling her as she usually would.
After a torturously long tickle session, that being a tickle session of any length, Carlos relented and slammed his dick into Kelly’s cooch hard enough to knock the wind out of the headless girl, before thrusting with all the grace and rhythmic form of a giraffe on rollerblades. While Carlos had once again broken all sexual etiquette, and Kelly would normally shove away and lecture any other guy who pulled that shit, she could do no such thing here. Carlos knew what he was doing was everything he wasn’t supposed to, and he was taking advantage of Kelly’s helplessness to do things he’d never be able to get away with otherwise. Things he’d honestly had no desire to do just minutes ago. He was unironically asserting dominance, and it was getting Kelly off.
Feeling her body spasm uncontrollably as Carlos went all out, her arms and legs trying and failing to flail in defiance, watching her proud body get reduced a sex toy by an inconsiderate fucker, it was opening Kelly’s eyes to just how many fetishes she didn’t know she had. Likewise, this experiment in being an absolute dick in bed was scratching Carlos’ novelty itch brilliantly. He’d never allowed himself to give in to animal instinct like this, to completely disregard the pleasure of his partner and focus only on what felt good to him. He loved Kelly, and he loved making her happy, but damn if it didn’t feel great to just not give a shit and give in to reflex. He brought his hands up her body, under her shirt, and squeezed her breasts hard enough to feel her ribs strain beneath his grip. He tweaked her piercings hard in opposite directions, and over his shoulder heard Kelly make a noise he’d never heard before. He felt her thighs squeeze his sides, felt her back arch up and force her breasts further into him, and heard Kelly scream joyfully in his ear. The walls of Kelly’s womanhood shook against his shaft as a huge orgasm rocked her body. Somehow, despite doing everything solely for his own pleasure, Carlos found himself cumming second.
Whatever confusion or disappointment he may have felt was quickly blown away with his load, the condom swelling inside Kelly and threatening to overflow. Carlos hunched over the still shaking form of Kelly and let out a low growl, struggling just to stay on his feet as shot after shot was fired into the wriggling mass of girlfriend pinned beneath him. By the end of it, he was pretty sure he’d dropped at least as many pounds as Kelly had, though from an entirely different head. His muscles certainly felt like a good chunk had just been ejected from his body. He slumped down onto Kelly’s chest, allowing his dick to deflate and slip out of her naturally. With a wet plap, the condom hit the concrete. He closed his eyes, the rapid but slowing sound of Kelly’s heartbeat like a lullaby in his ear.
“Carlos.” Kelly panted.
“Yeah.” Carlos wheezed.
“I think I may have gotten the big end of the magic stick.” Kelly said, her smile audible.
“I’m inclined to agree.” Carlos replied, nestling his face into Kelly’s cleavage.
“I don’t have work until Monday. Want to keep me like this over the weekend?” Kelly asked.
“No.” Carlos said, sending a chill down Kelly’s separated spine. “I want you to call in sick Monday. Take a long weekend.”
Kelly blushed, biting her lip as Carlos stared her down from his perch between her boobs. “You’re in charge.”