Rachel walked through the halls, the only thing she wore was the plastic pumpkinhead over her shoulders. Without it, she knew that she wouldn't have the courage to do what she was doing, but with it, it was a mask, it was someone else who was on parade, looking for a fun time.

The first time she was molested, she reflexively fought until she recognized that it wasn't her that was under attack. So she turned the fight into play, and before it was done, she had lost her virginity. But it was still there, she knew. After the night was done, she would be the same as when she entered.

So it was the Pumpkinhead, and not Rachel, who used her body with disregard for consequences.

But now, her eyes were drawn to a classroom door, and she opened it up, stepping inside. She was alone in the room, so she had time to look at the devices in the room. It was a series of what looked like papercutters, the long choppers she had seen in office supplies before. They were platforms or at various heights, from on the floor all the way to head height. Some had curves or grooves cut into the holders or platforms, and it didn't take much imagination to know what would go into them.

She giggled, and stood in front of one at chest height. It was easy to set her bare breasts into the two curves under the blade, and she adjusted herself to make sure that she maximized the amount of tit that was on the other side of the sharp edge, and when she was satisfied, she lowered the blade gently onto her bare skin. The blade touched her lightly, and she gathered her courage for a moment before she raised the handle on the blade, then slammed it down!

Rachel gasped as the blade cut through her, and she felt a great weight fall away - which was quite literal - as her breasts fell forward onto the platform she was up against. She took a steadying breath and stepped back, her chest was smooth and unblemished, not a horror show here. She stepped around the chopped and picked up her breasts, feeling their weights in her hands. They were warm, and she knew that if she wanted, she could reapply them and restore herself.

But that wasn't fun. She was here for fun! She threw her breasts into the air, catching them in the other hand. It wasn't juggling. She couldn't juggle. She looked around and decided what she would do next.

Rachel sat down on the floor, and leaned over, putting her feet through two small holes before she cut them off. It was anti-climactic, but she found she could still curl her toes even as she ran a finger along the underside of her feet. "I don't get it," she said to no one, "what's with the foot fetish?" She put them beside her tits, arranged nicely before moving on to the next thing. It was hard, walking with no feet, but she made due.

The next was something that she sat on, putting her legs under the blade of a waist-high cutter. It might be difficult getting down, but she trusted herself. With an effort, she reached up and slammed the blade closed, cutting off her legs. "Ah!" she huffed from the exertion. But she couldn't stop. She raised the blade, and this time, she lay back, using her hands on the handle as leverage to place her waist under the cutter.

With a wish for a good landing, she closed the blade again, cutting her lower body off, and letting it drop to the floor, where she felt it hit her legs, both on the legs, and on her ass.

Then, Rachel turned around and this time with her torso on the platform, put her neck under the blade. But more than that, she reached up with her hands, making sure her arms were on the 'outside' of the paper cutter, and with no hesitation, she dropped the blade for one final time.

Head and upper arms fell, joining the body part pile. It took a few moments to orient herself, but her hands were able to find her various parts and start to push and pull them. At one point, she found herself staring at her own sex, but decided that now wasn't the time to have that sort of fun, and honestly, the actions were more fun than the results for her.

So she closed her eyes and returned to the start.

She didn't even leave the front room when a man in a doctor's costume, or most of one, got her attention. "Nice costume," he said, admiring her body.

"Thank you," she replied in character. "I'm Pumpkin head, and I ate this woman's head to use her body as a meat puppet," she informed him. "It's not my body, so I don't care what it gets used for," she added, making the casual offer clear.

"If that's the case, Miss Pumpkin head," the Doctor said, "I have a medical experiment I wish to run, and you seem like you would participate."

"And what would that be?" she asked of him. "Something sexual?"

"Not immediately," the man didn't rule it out either. "No, I'm looking for women, or their bodies," he clarified, "who can act without a head, and conduct experiments."

"What sort of experiments?" she asked.

"I haven't fully decided yet."

"Pass," she said. "Maybe later." With that, she walked away. But now that she had turned someone down, she felt bad about it and decided to take the next person up on their offer, or make an offer of her own.

She didn't have to wait long, as she walked a hallway, and out of one of the doors a woman appeared. She wore a white fur cape around her shoulders, and long black opera gloves. A crown of ice was on her head, and she wore clear slippers. Her skin looked like it was covered in ice crystals, and in her hand was a long icicle that she idly twirled though her fingers.

"Evening," Rachel said to her. "I'm Pumpkinhead."

"And I am an Ice Queen," the woman in white replied. "Did you want to be one of my newest statues?" she asked.

"Actually," Rachel replied, "I was thinking that I could use that icicle of yours," she indicated the long, hard, clear thing in the Queen's hand, "and use it to pleasure you and me, then when I'm done, I would stab you to death with it."

"Counter offer," the Queen challenged her. She put her other hand on the icicle, and started to pull her hands apart, the ice growing with a barely-heard crackle, until at last it was about two feet long, with two very sharp ends. "We share a sex toy," she indicated the far-too long icicle in her hands.

"Counter-Counter," Rachel was enjoying this. "I help you make love to that, and when you're finished, I love it like you did."

"Counter-counter-counter," the Queen smiled as the icicle grew until it was taller than both of them. "We both go at the same time, and while we're on it," she gave the tall icicle pole a slight spin, and barbs of ice grew out from it until it was less a stick, and more a bush she carefully handled.

"Make it fatal," Rachel wanted.

"Deal," the Queen said, and they shook hands. The Queen's was quite cold, but she had just contracted the icicle spikes back into the pole. "I was looking for an excuse to try this, and going alone just didn't seem right, you know."

"I do," Rachel agreed. "Out here, or in a room?"

"Out here will do," the Queen said as she put one hand on the nearby wall, raising one leg up. "Here," she said, holding the pole in one hand, pressing up against her sexual folds."

"I think it would be better if you shrunk it," Rachel suggested. "Small enough we can press together, then it can grow."

"You're right," the Queen agreed and in her hands, the pole shrank down until it was merely a single foot long, but still very thin. Rachel took it in her hands, marveling at the chill. She too leaned up against the wall, facing the Queen. She took the small icicle in her free hand and carefully slid it into her, her body reacting to the freezing intrusion by contracting. She winced, but persevered, watching carefully to put the other end into the Queen. Once they were lined up, by unspoken agreement, the two women twisted and pressed against each other, their sexes touching, joined by the ice-cold spike in them.

"Ah!" The Queen let loose an erotic moan. "That's hitting the spot," she huffed.

"Need to get laid?" Rachel asked.

"That's what you're here for," the Queen rolled back and forth on their mutual toy, enjoying the sensations. Rachel could feel it grow inside her, and adjusted to get a better feel as well. "Ah, let's make sure neither of us back out," she added.

Rachel yelled in pain when two spikes of ice grew out of her lower belly, covered in red blood as they pinned her into place. The only consolation was that the Queen had similar growths as well, equally damaging. "That hurt!" Rachel complained. "Do it again!"

The Queen obliged, and Rachel and her both reacted at the same time as the ice grew fast, puncturing her stomach and inside her ribs. She straightened out the best she could, and could feel the Queen doing the same thing. Was that mirror always there? She could see herself and the Queen in it, pussy to pussy, each pointing away from each other, standing on one leg each, leaning up against the mirror itself.

"Take this!" the Queen commanded, and Rachel prepared herself as the icicle missed! It didn't come up her throat as she expected! No, it pushed out under her collar, and she barely had a chance to try and stop and readjust before the sharp point went into her chin, through her tongue, then into her head!

She wasn't dead! But she was in agony as the icicle poked out the top of her pumpkin head, red as death. "Ahhh!" she managed to say as she was able to move her eyes enough to see that the Queen, curse her frozen heart, had ridden the spit properly.

Then the pikes began to grow. Upwards from her stomach, agony became blinding as her body was covered in a small forest of spikes. She could feel her insides burst, and when the growth reached their chests, it was the Queen that expressed her pain even louder through the ice in her throat, while Rachel was tapped out. Her breasts were savaged, ripped apart from the insides and their insides dripping all over the place as the frost grew more. It expanded through her neck, cutting off what was left of her air flow, then into her mouth.

The last thing she saw, she felt, was a pressure from behind her eyes, then .... nothing.

Rachel fell out of the locker, beside her the Queen as well. They were both restored and ... Rachel grabbed a man who stepped out of a locker himself, saying nothing but not needing to as they fucked right there to get it out of their systems. Once their mutual carnal lust was satisfied, they parted, not interested in anything else from each other. Rachel turned to the Queen, who was helping herself to the icicle in her hands. Rachel out one hand over her shoulder, and another onto the Queen's pleasure device, leaning in close.

"My turn," she promised.