Becca hopped down the stairs into the basement with giddy expectation. Her wild mane of red hair flounced all around her shoulders as she knew, just knew that there would be something down here for her! She knew it, just knew it! Her loose orange prisoner jumpsuit had the words 'Death Row Inmate' in clear black block letters. Her breasts bounced freely under her top, which was open enough to expose her inner cleavage.

She hit the bottom step and bounced one more time in eager anticipation, her bare feet hitting the floor with a 'thump'. "What to do? What to do?" she sing-songed as she looked down the small hallway in front of her. Doors were set into each side at various distances into the darkness that extended down past the limits of the house above. A right proper dungeon this was!

Becca looked to the right and to the left and opened the first door on the right. "Ooooooh!" she cooed as under a single spotlight was a wooden chair with straps. "What are you, sexy?" she asked as she approached it without fear or hesitation. Instead it was a little bit of swagger. "Well?"

"Here already? I'm pleased." A very familiar voice called out from behind Becca, and she didn't bother to turn around as the Club Head approached her from behind. "Eager, aren't you?"

"Yes Ma'am!" Becca called back. "Ready for anything!"

"Anything?" a gentle silken finger ran across her neck, and Becca quivered in delight. "You know what that means."

"Yes, I do," she confirmed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and everyone between," the Head raised her voice and spun around to face the large crowd that was all around them. When did they get there? How long had they been watching? But she had gotten here first! She was sure of it! "This woman," the Head grabbed Becca by the jumpsuit and spun her around, throwing her into the wooden chair, "she is as you see. A convicted convict on death row."

Becca sat there in surprise as she felt straps warp around her wrists and ankles, then around her neck, ratcheting tight and holding her in place. "Hey!" she tried to say, straining through the thin leather around her throat. She was definitely turned on by this, that was for sure as the Head appeared before her, mask obscuring her identity. "I won't bother you with the name of the condemned" she put on a show for her audience. How many were there? Five? Ten? Thirty? "All you need to know is that down here in the basement, the horror, the macabre, the violence? It is real. Pain and joy can be mixed upstairs, but down here? It's all business. As such, I feel an extra example is in order, even though you've all seen what happened upstairs in the yard."

She had, and she was looking forward to it too! She smiled at that thought.

"Well, I shall now execute this woman," the Head said.

WHAT?

"Oh, but no ordinary killing will suffice," the Head turned and opened up Becca's top, exposing her tits, cupping them in her hands and gently caressing them. "No, not yet," she confirmed as she move to be behind the chair, leaning over Becca as one hand ran down her front, popping buttons as she did so. The other rolled her breasts, kneading them like dough and causing Becca to start to pant from excitement. "How shall I do her in, I wonder? Perhaps a bullet?" Becca could hear the gun cock. "Gutting?" A phantom pain in her stomach. "No... something else entirely."

"What?" she asked the Head. as the Head popped open a button she was sure didn't exist, at her waistband and before the audience, the Head slipped a finger, then two, into her pussy.

"I'm going to do this," the Head replied to her as she pulled away from Becca, leaving her open and exposed, wet and heavy. Three was a moment's tension where she could feel something build up, then the Head reappeared in her view. She had three large alligator clips in her hands, with heavy wires that led behind the chair.

She knew exactly what was going to happen now, and her breath was hot and heavy as the Head smiled for the audience. "A normal electric chair sends a current through the head and out the extremities," she informed everyone for their benefit. "This way the person is killed by the frying of their brain. It's painful, I assure you, for a little bit at least."

The Head teased Becca's right tit and then without remorse, clipped it over her sensitive tip. Becca yelled out in pain as the sharp teeth bit into her soft flesh, drawing small drops of blood. "Ahh! Ah!" she heaved her chest as the Head reached across her and repeated this with the other breast. "ooooowwwwww!" she complained.

"Hush, it's your fault, being condemned and all that," the Head chided her. "Now, where will this last one go?" she touched it to Becca's lips, who opened her mouth and presented her tongue. "No," the Head said before pulling away the clip and pressing her lips to Becca's, the kiss forceful, but not rude. Becca melted into the embrace and drank deeply of their shared breath when a snip of pain shot through her!

The Head had, in the distraction, clipped the last clip to Becca, and it was into her sex! One side of the clip was outside her, touching her folds as the inside clips pierced into her soft inner rim. "Argh!" she moaned as she felt the sharp pains. The head pulled back from her kiss.

"Connected like this," the Head informed everyone, "she will be in incredible agony as the natural flow of electricity won't pass through her nervous system or anything immediately vital." She looked at their mutual but indistinct audience. "Which means that when I flip the switch behind her, it will take time. Lots of time."

"I'm ready!" Becca proclaimed, fearfully fearless.

"No you're not," the Head whispered to her, and then Becca heard screaming.

She would eventually realize it was hers.

-----

Jarin walked confidently into the House, the visceral impossibility of what she had seen still pulling at her mind even as the woman whom all her medical knowledge had told her was dead held open the door and greeted everyone by name. There were cadavers she had cut open as part of her education that were less detailed than that!

And yet, this was the After School Magic Club, where the impossible was quite real.

"Thank you for coming," the Head said, falling in beside Jarin. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it."

"Thanks for the invitation," Jarin replied. "I had to find a costume though."

The Head glanced at Jarin and what she wore. "50's Housewife. Very .... well, I know people are going to wonder what you have hidden," she offered. "Although when I wore those, the chest was a little less exposed," she definitely took the opportunity to look down into Jarin's massive and well rounded cleavage.

"That's for me to know and for them to find out. Maybe," Jarin replied. "I just..."

"Re-lax!" The Head said with a soothing smile. Or perhaps not, depending on ones opinions of such things. "I invited you because you were so wound up, so tense, I knew that you just needed a little something to get you to unwind!"

"I did the party circuit," Jarin defended herself. "And even saw a couple of your shows."

"Yes, Jarin." The Head thought about it. "Yes, I remember. You really paid attention to the Cookie Cutter those two cuties put on a few years ago - in your first year, I think."

"There's no way you remember that," Jarin accused. "But.... yeah, the idea of a living dissection like that, well, medical student. It was interesting to say the least." Like the thoughts of being under those cutters, even as she buried those thoughts then. The memories were fresh now, and this place... Maybe...?

"I remember everything," the Head said with certainty - and Jarin believed it. "Perk of the position, you might say."

"I wish," Jarin complained a little. "Studying takes up so much time."

"Which is why you need to relax. Believe it or not, I do care for people. And I saw you burning at both ends," the Head continued with utter sincerity. "You're here to rest, reset and go back to your books with a fresh face."

Jarin opened her mouth to offer a counter, a look of annoyance or perhaps just sad acceptance, but the Head had just ... vanished.

She looked around, but there was no sign of the Head anywhere. In fact, all she saw were other partygoers, and no indication that the Head had even been there. "Oh," she said aloud before realizing that she had stopped in front of a door. There was nothing unusual about it, except that it seemed to be in the middle of the hallway, where nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Even the painting on the wall across from the door was a nondescript landscape.

But if she knew the Head from anything, it is that she wouldn't have stopped here and left her here without a reason, so Jarin pushed open the door, noting that it had no handle, just a pusher plate on it and the hinges could go both ways.

On the other side of the door was a kitchen, straight out of the same era as her dress. A cute pink motif matched her own wardrobe, and Jarin was acutely aware of the sheer dissonance she felt rapidly fading from her mind before it was gone. Mostly because there was already someone here. A middle-aged man in a cook's outfit was puttering at the kitchen table, before him was a large bowl and a meat grinder.

There was someone's legs in the grinder.

No, Jarin realized in the exact instant. There was someone in the Grinder and they were being ground up. A mix of feeling crossed her heart and her mind. Shock. Horror! Disbelief! Excitement?

"Oh there you are!" The cook called out to her after barely giving her a glance. "I was expecting someone else, but you'll do," he commented. "Come over here and help." There was something in his tone of voice that caused Jarin to step up, reflexively wiping her hands on her apron.

"What did you need?" she asked. She carefully didn't put her eyes on the third person in the room. Who could do that to themselves? A horrible thought occurred to her. What if it wasn't purely voluntary? What if someone got off being tossed in like that?

"Need help here," the man indicated the grinder. "Is stuck a bit, needs a bit of a push while I deal with other things." The Chef was curt, professional and barely looked at her. Jarin was almost offended by that, but put it aside.

Instead, she walked over to the kitchen table and saw into the grinder. The tanned woman - it had to be - was upside down inside the horrible machine, her head already gone as well as her shoulders, leaving her arms separated and her chest... Jarin stared as the woman's tits were just... hanging there! And the woman was apparently still alive as she was kicking!

"Hurry up!" the chef told her and Jarin nodded seriously. Well, if this woman wanted to go in, who was she to object. She approached and carefully wrapped her arms around the woman's legs, stilling their rapid wailing and flailing. She could feel the warmth in them, the heat of the blood pumping through her veins as she put her weight on the woman and after a moment, the grinder lurched to life! The sudden lurch almost threw Jarin off balance, but she recovered, bracing against the table with a foot.

She looked down into the grinder, the rolling metal blades and worse spinning now, devouring the woman's arms and tits. There was no blood, she saw. But what came out was definitely ... definitely sausage. Definitely into a large bowl. Jarin reset her grip, raising her arms to the lower parts of the woman's legs to maximize her effort.

"What are you making?" she asked as she watching in fascination as the woman's chest went away.

"Meat pies," the Cook said as he was busy doing ... something to make pastries. Jarin didn't think too much about that as she focused on pushing her... meat down into the grinder.

A pussy slid into view. The woman's very wet sex was right there, a familiar degree of excitement obvious to her eyes. She glanced at the Cook, who was busy, and then back at the sex before her. Jarin made up her mind as the woman was obviously still feeling everything. She spread her legs and gave the pussy a lick, causing a deep shiver to run up the woman's body from her stomach to her toes. Jarin quickly closed the legs and pushed the woman down more, filling the bowl with a disproportionately less amount of contents. She watched, fascinated, as the woman's hips and the rest were devoured, until it was just her legs.

Then they too were swallowed whole by the grinder, her feet last. "Oh my god," Jarin breathed out, recognizing that this woman whose name she didn't even know had just... just... Into the bowl! A bowl that wasn't even full, but should have been!

"Done!" She said with a cheer she didn't feel before that moment as she picked up the bowl and carried it over to the Cook. "Now what?"

"Not enough," the man said with a glance. "Many guests." He looked again, this time at Jarin. "You can enter, yes?"

Jarin was taken aback by the suddenness of the question and she stared at him for a moment. "Wha?"

"Yes. Need more meat. You have plenty. Get into grinder?"

Yes, she heard that right the first time. He was asking her to get into the machine that just ate another woman and just let it do its work? On her?

"No clothes, ruins pies." The man added without showing any awareness of her inner thoughts. "Hurry. People hungry." He gestured at the kitchen table where somehow, there was another bowl waiting. Waiting for her. All she would need to do is.... get in.

Jarin looked at the Cook, who had turned his back toward her, working with the bowl she had passed to him not a moment before. She thought about whether or not to accept his demand, to yield to it. Wasn't that the whole point of coming? She was stern with herself here, she shouldn't do this. It was insane! Impossible!

And yet she set aside her horn-rimmed glasses and curled her fingers under the hem of her skirt, lifting hesitantly even as she fought with herself about what to do. No! She was here as her one night off! She had seen the impossible, and knew it was just ordinary, so why was she hesitating in pulling her dress and apron up past her waist?

"Need fuck?" the Chef asked. "Good pussy."

The statement was so blunt, direct and utterly out of the blue that Jarin froze. "What?"

"Can inspect. Tenderize?" The chef said. "Make pleasure?"

Jarin gathered her wits and her courage and met his dispassionate eye. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Handle anything," the man replied, setting down his tools and approaching Jarin. "Handle you?"

She could say no. She could lower her dress back down past her breasts. She could walk away.

She wouldn't.

Jarin finished pulling her dress off and nodded once.

"Very good," the chef said as he bent down to examine her sex. He nodded once, then ran two fingers over her gap, Jarin getting excited as he touched her privately. "Fine woman." he stood up. "Grinder?"

"No, sex first." Jarin told him.

He didn't hesitate, and Jarin was taken aback by the sudden thrust into her personal space, the Chef with the odd way of speaking going from a somehow professional examination of her body to a personal intrusion. It was a warm press against her loins as he slid a kiss into place. For a man who spoke rough, he was nothing like that physically as he seemed to be made for her. "Oooohhh!" she moaned with her throat as he grasped her arms with his hands to hold her in place.

The Chef lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, rolling with him as she accepted his pumping with a tightness and desire that she didn't know she wanted. He held her under her back, allowing her to arch her back as they joined at the hips in that most primal of manners. She knew and she wanted that. WANTED IT!

He grunted and something changed. A glance to the side said nothing, but there was something tickling her hair, some drawing air like a fan. Something important she was forgetting.

There was a warm feeling in the back of her mind, in the back of her head, and she remembered.

The grinder!

"AhhhhP!" She tried to say something, anything to stop this! This was... She wasn't in pain at all even as she just knew that she was being fed sideways into the meat-maker. It was warm. Like a fan. Very comfortable.... Jarin smiled as she knew that her head was now devoured by the machine, but it didn't hurt, and she still had sensations about her. Of the man making love to her as she was being crushed.

That other woman... did she feel all this too?

Jarin could say nothing as the warm feeling - like bubbles moved down her neck and into her shoulders. Her arms seemed to take on a life of their own as the warm feeling went down them. She realized that her arms were now no longer attached to the rest of her as the machine took them. In fact, the funny warmth seemed to go faster on those as the rest of her was more slowly dissolved.

Then it was time for her chest and the warm feelings were like being soaked in a wonderful bath, all the weight of the world vanishing even as she knew that this meant that her ample chest was being destroyed.

He pulled out of her, unfinished for both of them.

Jarin wanted him to finish, for her to finish but the warm ending drifted down her stomach and unless he wanted to join her, this would be a good point for that. And she could take her joy with her as her hips were equally ground up and then... OH! How she wanted to exalt in that sensation that touched her best part now. She wanted more and more until there was nothing left to give and take and then it was over. Just the phantom memories as her legs started to swing around in circles as well.

And then it was done.

Jarin luxuriated in the empty and filling sensations that suffused her body as she was... it didn't matter. It really didn't. She was just enjoying this. And more. She wanted more. More. More! And perhaps she could finish what that man had started....

-----

Ann licked her lips as she walked back into the dining room. At some point nearer the start of the evening she had a costume, but after many, many different encounters, she wasn't anymore. She had her tight leggings still on, and someone's jacket, the blue thing a bit to small for her, so she left the chest open to allow her breasts to hang out. She was taking a small break from sensual escapades and magical ones and ones that were both to just ferry some food from the kitchen out to the dining area, pretending to be a waitress for the other guests. "Soup's ready!" she called out, holding the platter with the light food up with both hands. She approached the table with the five other guests sitting around it in costumes ranging from monk to wizard.

"Thanks!" was the call back from them in various forms as she walked around the table, setting down the soup for everyone. "Everyone enjoying themselves?" She asked them in general as she finished up.

"We are!" the wizard replied. "Say, are you on the menu too?"

"Not in that way!" Ann put down the idea. "But what else would you like?" she smiled and put a hand on her bare hip and giving him a full view of everything she had to offer as she brushed her long hair out of the way with her other hand.

He thought about it. "When you come back, give me head," he suggested. "I have a couple wands that could use it."

"A couple?" Ann chuckled. "Sounds kinky!"

The wizard laughed with her. "Maybe even at the same time?" he asked.

"When I get back, I'll see what you have," Ann promised and the rest of the guests applauded the Wizard's forwardness. "Anything for the rest of you?" she asked them.

"Water please," a cute witch asked. "And after you're done with him," she indicated the Wizard, "can I play with you?"

"Oh?" Ann stopped. "What were you thinking?"

"I have a broom," the witch said. "I'm sure we can think of something."

"Private or public?"

"Oh, public! All the way!" the witch brightened up at that.

"Deal!" Ann agreed. "Well, back to the kitchen!" she waved goodbye, her next two fun bits lined up already. She got back to find a silver platter with a large cover already waiting for her, the platinum-white woman waiting there for her with a grin on her face.

"Already?" Ann asked.

The woman nodded. "Yes! Here you go," she pushed the platter at Ann, who picked it up.

"What is it?"

"A surprise!"

Ann shrugged. "Ok." She headed right back out the way she came, and found the same guests at the table. She licked her lips for the Wizard, who leered right back at her as the witch wiggled back and forth in her seat. She set the platter down on the table, and announced to the guests "This is a surprise from the chef!" And with that, she pulled off the lid!

Ann stared in shock and surprise. That was her there! That was her on the platter! Her head! She would recognize herself anywhere as her mouth was gagged and her hair pooled up around her neck, her still-living head right there!

"Oh wow!" the Wizard reached out and held Ann's head up with both hands as Ann stared, incredulous. "Hey, she looks just like you!"

"She is me!" Ann replied back without meaning to.

"Really?" the Wizard replied, almost as taken aback as Ann was.

"Hah! You asked for her head, so she delivered!" the monk at the table laughed. "Well played!" he clapped.

Ann's smile was strained, and the look the witch was giving her wasn't helping anything. "If you'll excuse me," she apologized and rushed back to the kitchen, leaving her second head behind. She burst through the doors. "What was that?" she demanded to know.

"You promised head, I delivered," the woman in the kitchen replied. "Now, be a dear..." She held up a cover to a silver platter, "I need to prepare you."

"What?" Ann asked again, still confused. "What are you doing?"

"I need your head to put on the place so you can deliver it," the woman replied. "Then that adorable witch will get the rest of you, right?"

Ann's mouth fell open to try and object, but the woman in front of her just popped a red ball into it! "mmggg!!" she moaned as she tried to reach up and pull it out, but the other person just dropped the cover over her head and all was dark.

The darkness lifted and Ann blinked to look up and oh my god the wizard was looking at her! And she was standing right there looking shocked and "Oh wow! She looks just like you!" And so it started all over again....