Part One – Happy New Year

I had met Tracey in a bar New Year’s Eve just about a year ago. I was supposed to meet some friends and got there a bit early to avoid the outrageous cover charge that would be guaranteed later in the evening. The bar was already getting crowded but there was one empty spot along a pretty twenty something blonde. So I politely got her attention and asked if the seat was taken, which she quietly motioned that it was free. I ordered a drink and noticed her drink was empty as well. Never one to miss an opportunity to buy a pretty girl a drink, I quickly had her glass refilled in an effort to break the ice. One little crack in the ice later and the whole iceberg was about to crumble. After an hour or so of idle chatter we seemed to be hitting it off when my curiosity for her attire got the better of me. We were in an upscale Irish pub where most every one was dressed to the hilt. She was noticeably underdressed in a short plaid skirt and a collared blouse bearing the logo of the new tattoo parlor that had moved into town. The buttoned down top was tied at her waist revealing her taut stomach and incredibly sexy body. Her feet were covered in four-inch heels

We seemed to be hitting it if off, so I felt inclined to ask about her choice of clothing for the night. This really caused the ice to crack. She bowed her head and almost started to cry and said “I sold my soul to a witch from Salem and now I am forced to work for her Nephew. It’s a long story.” I told her I had all year so she better get to it before her time runs out. She chuckled a bit and then warned me I would never believe her, but she would tell me as long as I continued to buy. My friends were running late and she was very hot, so I bought another round and she started on her story.

Last year the week before Halloween my friends and I took a road trip out to Salem to visit a haunted house and to grab some pumpkins I needed for a school project. I’m an Art History major and in keeping with the holiday spirit, our professor made us carve five pumpkins to be judged against the rest of the classes to see who ranked the best in various categories. We also had to visit a place of great historic significance and thought we would kill two birds with one stone. We skipped out of classes early one Friday and went out to Salem to take in the history of the witch trials that happened over three hundred years ago. Then picked up some pumpkins from a local farmer and to cap the day off went on a haunted hayride and a haunted house. Perfect for the holiday we thought. The day was going well, and there are some truly unique sites to be seen around Salem.

But the pumpkin hunting did not go as smoothly. I picked up six well-defined mediums to large sized pumpkins at “Hagatha’s Halloween Hay Ride and House of Horrors”. I figured I should get six in case I wasn’t happy with how the first one turned out. Not thinking the day through, I didn’t dress for the occasion. In the spirit of the trip, we dressed, as witch’s not considering that witches in Salem may be considered taboo. But my three housemates and I looked fantastic in our spider web stocking; lacy top and low cut dresses. I wore a cheesy dime store pumpkin medallion dangling from a leather cord, which seemed corny yet appropriate for the occasion. I am sure we looked more super model witches then actual period 1600 era warlocks, but we put forth a nice effort. Walking through the pumpkin patch was a chore in our heels and boots, but it was more for the style points after the haunted house then trudging through the fields in the fading sunlight.

As the other girls didn’t have the same curriculum and professors, only I needed to pick-up the pumpkins, which we estimated would easily fit into the trunk of my little compact car. Unfortunately as I was walking back to the car carrying my two pumpkins one of my heels got stuck in the mud. I lost my balance and tried to catch myself with my other foot. It promptly got stuck in my dress and I was down for the count. I went crashing through an intricately carved pumpkin sitting near the entrance to the haunted house. One of my pumpkins survived unscathed, but the other came crashing down on the concrete next to me smashing into a dozen chunks of shells and runny seeds. Witch Hagatha, the proprietor of the farm who was dressed more like any ghoulish witch I have ever seen, immediately mourned the destruction of her intricately carved centerpiece completely ignoring my disheveled body lying in a heap buried inside the massive pumpkin.

She crouched down next to me to survey the damage and continued to ignore me despite the aches in my back and knees from twisting on my dress and crashing to the ground. When she retorted that I owed her $200 for the six pumpkins and the one of a kind carving I had crushed on her porch I was enraged. I immediately launched after her and threatened to sue based on her callous reaction to my obvious discomfort. “Sue! Sue? Nobody sues Witch Hagatha! Especially some little twit masquerading around as some overrated extra from Charmed! Poor little Sabrina drives all the way out here to visit nasty little Salem wearing stiletto heels and a Prada purse! Sue! You want to sue? I’ll give you due compensation!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out four tokens for the Hay Ride and Haunted House Tour. She reached forward with her gnarled little fingers and shoved them into my hand. She held them there while she continued on her tirade. My hand felt like it was on fire every second that she touched it as I tried escaping her grasp. “You’ll be my special guests tonight and ever!” As she retracted her hand I quickly pulled mine away and threw the tokens onto the ground. Inside my hand was a round circle intertwined with three arcs burnt into the palm of my right hand. Tracey held out her hand to show the symbol was still branded deep into her palm. We have since learned that this symbol is referred to as an Inscribed Triquetra.

My three girlfriends who had by now set my pumpkins next to the car were kneeling beside me as a show of support immediately screeched into my ears. No sooner had the witch turned to leave did the same branding immediately appear in the palms of their hands as well as the palm of my left hand. Tracey turned her left hand over for me to see and I held her matching brands facing up in my hands in front of her. As we stood there dumbfounded by what just happened thick black rusty shackles appeared on our wrists and ankles and soon heavy chains connected them together. There were no hinges or pins or bolts, just a solid forged massive chunk of steel encasing our wrists and ankles. When we stood to run away and get in the car, our ankles could only move about a foot apart. We only made it a couple steps before tripping and falling to the ground.

As if out of nowhere eight heavily cloaked men appeared and lifted us to our feet. Each of us four girls had a pair of burly henchmen on each of our sides. Despite our verbal protests and obvious discomfort, we were no match for the men who had taken over control. We were dragged away from my car protesting as best we could. We were quickly locked in a stockade and our faces were locked into early century torture devices. Mine had a steel pear shaped device that was tightened down and expanded my jaw to the point of breaking. Rebecca’s head was placed behind a steel plate molded to fit her face. There were small slits at her eyes, nose and mouth, but she couldn’t mumble a word. Sherry’s head was covered in thick steel bars crisscrossed and riveted about her head and under her jaw. Lastly was April who had an intricate series of metal plates and wires that made her face look like a bird’s mask. The peak of her mask extended nearly 8 inches from her face and had two small bars running from side to side which pinched her tongue and prevented her from biting down. The four pillories were moved to form a semi circle around a podium and a judge put us on trial for witchcraft. As we had no lawyers in our defense and we could not speak for ourselves we were quickly condemned to suffer for our mysterious black arts. The other guests and visitors all thought it was part of a show and stood back watching the display with great interest.

I received the least of the punishments, or at least at first that’s how it seemed. I was placed in a stockade and was pelted with rotten food the entire night. Each person standing in line waiting for their turn in the haunted house had a fresh supply of foul fruit and wasted no time using my body for target practice. Once the rotten food ran out, rocks, sticks and horse manure from the hayride were soon to follow.

Once inside the house the guests witnessed poor Sherry sitting on a chair of spikes. Her metal network of steel bars around her skull was bolted to the chair back behind her. Her arms, back and legs were tightened to the chair with leather straps. Each guest could deposit five dollars and take their turn tightening the straps even tighter driving the spikes farther into her body. They had placed a pair of steel rings around her D-Cup breasts and for five dollars you could rotate the collar causing skewers to puncture the base of each breast. Soon the steel rods were entering from one side and the sharpened points were sticking out the other. Her body was soon dripping in blood as the spikes dug deeper with each contribution from the Halloween goers.

April was next; her body was naked and lying stretched out on a long wooden bed. The shackles on her wrists and ankles were attached to hooks at each corner of the table. For five dollars you could turn a large crank increasing the pressure pulling her limb from limb, or whip her body with leather straps covered in salt water which left deep welts and open cuts all across her body, or you could grab the open candles hanging from the walls and throw hot wax all across her naked body. But Rebecca received the worse torture of all. Her long dark hair was nailed to a wooden post and her hands were tied together behind her back and around the beam securing her tightly to the post at her back. She was standing on top a pile of branches and limbs, which were soon set a blaze. For Ten dollars you could throw a pint size glass of gasoline onto the fire and make the blaze even higher. You could hear her screaming the whole night from behind her steel mask.

The haunted attraction closed at midnight and we girls were finally set free. As we fled for the door, bound naked, tortured and bleeding Witch Hagatha met us at the door “When you entered this house, you had no appreciation for what my sisters of long ago once endured. Now you have a permanent understanding of what they lived through. You shall return next year and every October thereafter and I will dream up fresh tortures for you to withstand. If you try and report what has happened here to the authorities then you will live with your torture for all eternity. If you return willingly, then your punishments will only haunt you four alone.”

Quickly we left and sped all the way home. We could do nothing but cry and examine our tortured bodies. Rebecca’s body was a burnt and scabbed mess. She had third degree burns over every square inch of her body but they weren’t fresh, but rough and textured like they had happened years before. The only part not destroyed was the red-hot steel mask covering her face. April was sitting next to her. Everything but her face was covered in welts and scars. Some of the guests had went as far as using pliers to remove her fingernails and toenails which appeared to have healed but devoid of her traditionally long beautiful natural nails. Rebecca was sitting uncomfortably next to me, her back, neck, arms and legs covered in thousands of circular puncture wounds. Her tits were still wrapped in steel rings and the spikes were still protruding through both sides of her breasts. The wounds appeared to have healed around the spikes preventing their removal.

I was driving the car. My body severely bruised and cut from the barrage of sticks and rocks and smelling of filth and horse dung. The leather cord on my neck had shrunk and was now a thick leather strap with an orange pumpkin embedded in the front with thick steel D-Rings on each side. There appeared to be no ends or way to open or remove the collar. All four girls sat crying and sobbing unable to speak as the steel devices still entrapped our heads. The chains and shackles clinked with each turn of the car or pothole in the road. I considered pulling into a police station but each time the thought crossed our minds the symbols in our hands would catch fire further embedding the icon into our palms. As a further incentive the leather collar around my neck would tighten to the point I would nearly black out.

We arrived back at our house at nearly two in the morning and grabbed the pumpkins from the trunk and quickly ran inside the house. Once inside we locked the doors and crawled to the living room and passed out in fear of our lives. We awoke in the morning by a knock on the door as a deliveryman left a parcel on the porch. The other three girls were hideously mauled and scarred so I was volunteered to pick up the package. I quickly ran outside still naked and grabbed the box and brought it inside. It was a neatly wrapped box that appeared to be hundreds of years old. The return address was Hagatha Farms Salem Massachusetts. We stared at it for hours fearing if we should open it or not. Eventually we removed the string and folded back the paper and removed an envelope from inside. “Now that you know what real witches are and what really happened to we sisters you may feel welcome to our coven. Inside you will find keys to release your shackles and to free your heads. Also you will find tokens for next year’s haunted house. Putting the tokens on will cure any physical scars from last night’s events. Removing the token will cause the scars to return. Failing to appear at my doorstep every October 1st begging me to torture you again for 30 days without end will cause the scars to appear forever. Reporting your little adventure or seeking legal consul will result in the same and more.”

One by one we sorted out the keys individually removed the shackles and chains from our limbs. Then one by one I helped each girl remove the device locked onto our heads. I helped Rebecca first and inserted her key into the network of locks behind her head. When her mask was removed we discovered a large pentagram had become branded into her face, cheeks, eyelids, and forehead destroying her beautiful face. Her ruined body now had a face to match. She cried and screamed knowing that any chance she had at regaining her title as Miss Teen Massachusetts was completely and utterly ruined. Nobody would ever buy a fashion accessory from a woman so extensively burned from head to toe as she was. She placed the medallion around her neck and slowly her scars healed. She examined the two-sided medallion and cried at the symbols embossed on the sides. On one was the same circular Inscribed Triquetra symbol blazed into her hands while on the other was the matching pentagram that was slowly erased from her face. The four of us huddled and consoled poor Rebecca helping her to accept her fate while the last of her burns melted away.

Sherry asked to go next as I unlocked the series of metal straps from around her head. When the apparatus was removed she too had received the familiar pentagram but it was burnt deeply into each cheek and brightly across her forehead. She quickly reached for her medallion and tied it tightly around her neck as the puncture wounds all over her back shrank up and soon disappeared. Then the large steel skewers that were forced through her breasts retracted and eventually allowed the rings and spikes to fall harmlessly to the floor.

April was now very anxious to have her birdcage removed and see what damage her face had endured. When the cage was removed it revealed two equally disturbing features. The two metal rods that were pinching her tongue were now crisscrossed and driven through the middle of her tongue and sticking out either side of her mouth thereby preventing her from closing her teeth. Her once perfectly sized nose had been formed into a bird’s beak that looked more in tune with a cockatiel. She eagerly grabbed her token and tied it around her neck allowing her nails to grow back to their former glory.

All eyes were focused on me now as Rebecca took my keys and inserted them into the pear-shaped device in my mouth. She began rotating the keys counter clockwise until the pear retracted back to its normal size. When the device was removed the girls gasped when they saw what remained. Thousands of dollars and years of pain and suffering to straighten my teeth in high school were ruined as all 32 teeth were pointing out at weird angles or turned to the side with large gaps in between them. Each one appeared yellow and decayed while some were sharpened or jagged as if they had never been brushed or flossed. Then a foul smell wafted out of my mouth as years of dead rotten flesh were expelled with each breath. The girls handed me the last of the medallions and as I tied it around my neck, my pale bruised and bloodied body returned to its tan self as my teeth returned to their former pristine condition.

Tracey then pulled the token dangling from the thin leather necklace out from her blouse and flipped it from front to back allowing me to examine the two shapes emblazoned on each side of the coin. We sat around until afternoon before we dared leave the house or venture away from the sanctuary we shared in each other. Eventually the other girls left the house for the afternoon allowing me time to work on my project without interruption. I wrote up a report on the Salem Witch Hunt that should have probably received a Pulitzer or at least a best seller. I then proceeded to begin gutting and carving my pumpkins which I needed to submit to the class on Monday. I went down to the cellar into the small-bricked room off to the side and closed the door behind me. The previous owners had tried to build a homemade steam room or built-in basement shower or something but never completed it. I thought it was the perfect room since I could simply hose down the walls when I was done. I knew it was going to get messy, so I removed my tank top and old shorts and hung them from a hook near the glass door. I tied my long blonde hair up in a ponytail. I then placed my laptop up on the top shelf next to the antique canning jars and blasted the radio making sure the built in web cam was disabled. I placed a tarp on the floor and proceeded to cut the lids off and remove the interior from the pumpkins. I soon was pulling handful after handful of seeds and guts out of the pumpkins while blindly rocking out to my favorite tunes.

The old barstool I was sitting on quickly was covered up to the bottom rung. Soon my feet were buried in the seeds and unbeknownst to me, my feet started to swell and change to an orange color. I immediately carved the first pumpkin and set it on the shelf and started in on number two. As I started on the second pumpkin I noticed my hands seemed to be completely orange and my nails seemed much shorter. I quickly disregarded the situation and attributed the color shift to staining from the pumpkin guts. By the end of the second pumpkin the seeds were just below my knees but pretended not to notice that my knees and thighs had become noticeably greener as I carved a new image into the gourd. My arms appeared to be turning greener while my fingers seemed to be a little puffy. I thought I may be having an allergic reaction but continued on my way. After the third pumpkin the seeds and guts had buried my green thighs and I began squirming in the weird mush and seeds that had slide under my ass on the old wooden seat of the barstool. The feeling was strangely erotic and I was soon gyrating my thighs slipping around in the disgusting mix of shell scraps and pumpkin seeds.

When I started on the fourth pumpkin I found myself incredibly hungry and began eating some of the seeds and raw guts straight from the pumpkin. It still hadn’t occurred to me that the small room was filling with seeds. Nor did I notice that my face was turning green and I had easily gained 75 pounds around my waist. I wasn’t looking pregnant; I was looking down right fat. I merrily carved the image into the fourth pumpkin while sexually moving the mix of goop in and out of my ass and pussy. I set the fourth creation to the side while chewing on the bits of shell removed from Pumpkin four. I started in on pumpkin five the seeds had stopped filling the room just below my tits. I had become so involved with my work; I didn’t notice my three roommates banging on the glassdoor. They had tried to open it but it had become wedged closed from getting filled with seeds. As I completed the fifth pumpkin to perfection I was now completely starving and covered in seeds. Rather then gut the sixth pumpkin which now appeared as big as the one I had smashed at Hagatha’s Farm, I started right in on carving an image into the outer shell just by removing the dark orange skin and not cutting through the inner shell.

As I neared completion of pumpkin six, my hands were so swelled I could barely hold the scalpel I was using. The girls were banging furiously on the door to get my attention but I was in another world. When I finished the pumpkin I was startled as it looked exactly like the one I had crushed. I then looked at the first five pumpkins. Each pumpkin contained an intricately carved illustration of Rebecca, April, Sherry and Myself being tortured at the hands of some middle-aged device. When I saw the last pumpkin it was a perfect image of Witch Hagatha. When I saw her image my hunger overwhelmed me. I raised the sixth pumpkin above my head and bit into the bottom of the vegetable. I began eating my way through the pumpkin until my head emerged out of the stem. Soon my hands popped out of the side but instead of being hands, they were small fingerless pumpkins attached to thick green stems where my arms should be. Instead of a head, there was a thick green stem with eyes, a nose and a mouth molded into the stem and a thick ponytail of green hair tendrils emerging out of the top.

The shock of seeing my own hands stuck inside of pumpkins scared me out of my seat and sent me deep into a pool of pumpkin guts and seeds. The sudden loss of balance and complete immersion in the room full of seeds snapped me out of the spell I was under. I was beginning to drown in the pool as the girls furiously tugged at the handle desperate to open the door before I gasped my last breathe. Suddenly the voice of witch Hagatha appeared. “Surrender your tokens to me and relive your fate. If your Pumpkin Witch knows what’s best for her she will come retrieve you after I have treated you to my tricks.”

The apparition disappeared and the girl’s continued tugging at the door knowing that they could not wait much longer. One by one they removed their amulets and returned to the farmhouse of horrors to endure four more days of unrelenting torture. When the last girl vanished the door burst open and I appeared in a tidal wave of orange pumpkin guts. My legs had turned completely green and connected my pumpkin body to the two large pumpkins encasing my feet. I stood up to walk on my unstable oval shaped feet and stumbled to the door as best I could. Hanging from the door were the three tokens her friends were wearing attached to a note: “Your friends are paying for your clumsiness with their lives. I have taken them in their true from where I will keep them until your silly holiday has passed. They will endure the torture they suffered last night until midnight on Halloween. Meanwhile your hunger will continue to grow. You will be driven to sleep with as many men from now until Tuesday and each one will only cause your hunger to grow more intense. You are to return to me at noon on the Eve before Halloween to replace my pumpkin that you destroyed yesterday. If you survive the Devil’s Night and make it out alive, then I may return you and your friends. I may even let you keep the amulets.” Before I could grab the amulets from the hook, they simply vanished into thin air.

As soon as I finished reading her note, I realized how hungry I was, not for food, but with passion. She had switched my libido onto overdrive and there was no turning it off. I looked between my legs where my former pussy should have been but I was now confronted with a bizarre shaped blossom that looked like the bottom of a typical pumpkin but was dripping wet with my juices. I quickly left the house in search of any man, woman or object that would offer me any sexual relief. Over the next three days my pumpkin body had sex with over 25 different men but each one only made my hunger worse. I finally made it to Witch Hagatha’s house and could hear the screams of my sisters from outside the building.

I walked up to the front porch on my green pumpkin legs and stood on the ground where the original pumpkin had been crushed. As if on cue my legs began sinking into the ground. Soon my dripping semen filled root came to rest on the ground. I attempted to dig myself out, but only succeeded in withdrawing my hands into the shell of the pumpkin leaving me as a helpless as a turtle on its back. Witch Hagatha appeared on the porch and drove a sharp knife into my former shoulders. She quickly cut a rough shaped circle around my neck and placed the knife on the porch. She then lifted my stem by grabbing onto my head. She placed a ceramic plate containing multiple yellow candles down my throat and replaced my lid. Soon I could feel the warm glow from the candles burning deep inside me. The heat kept me warm at night while I listened to the distant screams of the witches being tortured inside. The screams continued as young hooligans arrived to throw rocks at the haunted farmhouse on Devil’s Night and even long after the last trick or treat’r was dared to ring the doorbell on Halloween night.

Time seemed to last forever until I finally heard a rustling behind me. Soon the tortured, burnt and scarred faces of my coven appeared in front of me and used their mutilated hands to dig me free. After hours of work, my green legs were finally removed from the dirt. I was able to lift my hand from inside my shell as pumpkin seeds filled in the hollow void once my candle was removed and my lid replaced. “You have suffered well my little minions; you shall suffer more next year.” In the blink of an eye, the farmhouse was gone and we were left standing in an open field. My car was buried deep in the wet mud of the freshly tilled field and it took hours to free it. When we finally returned home the girls found their amulets and the pain and scarring faded. Once the girls returned to their human selves they replaced my token and watched as my transformation occurred in reverse.

The large pumpkin covering my torso began to shrink and rise up my body. As it shrank it pulled the pumpkins at my hands and feet towards my torso eventually splitting in half and leaving my hands and feet still covered in pumpkins and stems. The shrinking continued and then stopped when the pumpkin was slightly larger then my actual head. The pumpkins about my feet had shrunk and stretched and gripped my feet even more tightly then before as new pumpkins retreated to my ass and now formed a weird misshapen pumpkin that was slightly flat in front with two lobes in the back. The globes shrunk around my palms leaving five green stems sprouting out at useless angles while new pumpkins formed at my breast transforming my A-Cup tits into massive D-Cup pumpkins. At the end of each tit were two hard pointed green stems, which stood out like bullets. My face had been carved into a pumpkin that had the haggard gnarled look of every witch I was ever glad I wasn’t. When I talked the lips of the pumpkin moved along with my own. My green hair extended out in spiral tendrils from the stem at my head and cascaded down my back. My waist was now a textured and tapered green shaped stem extending from the ass pumpkin at my waist up my back and tummy and disappearing under the pumpkin at my head.

The girls were trying to remove the pumpkins the rest of the way or attempt to return me to my human self when the old witch appeared again. “Your friends have suffered greatly, and why? Because of your clumsiness, arrogance and your inability to pay for your own actions that is why. Therefore you must now suffer yourself. You are a pumpkin and you are dieing and you will die this weekend unless you chose to suffer on your own. I have done you a favor and allowed you to serve your debt to me. In exchange you will do a favor for me. My nephew has opened a tattoo shop not far from where you are. He seeks a model and spokesperson to represent his shop. He had a girl selected but she dropped out last minute. In order to maintain his national affiliation, he must keep a model on staff 24/7 for demonstrations and the contract must be filled before the weekend. If he does not have a model on staff, he will be forced to give up his franchise and be required to close his shop and lose tons of money, his life investment. You have three days to convince him that you are that model. If you do not then you may chose this pumpkin body or the other one. But you will never get your human one back.” Then she disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

Part Two – It’s a Cold November

So far I was very interested. It was now a couple hours later and her story was either well rehearsed or actually true. “Well you are clearly not a pumpkin head now” I pointed out stating the obvious. “If you are, you really know a thing or two about applying your make-up.”

“Well actually, I am. You see my friends took pity on me and the Witch’s Nephew went to bat for me as well. In exchange for my hands feet and head, all three girls underwent a piercing to help me reassure Zachary that he made a wise choice for his spokesperson. So I am only a pumpkin on my ass and tits until this Friday.” She discretely turned towards me and peeled back the top buttons on her black blouse. As I looked down her blouse just as she described her tits were big round orange mellows with green stems attached in place of nipples. I looked her in the eye and she nodded understanding exactly what I didn’t ask. I reached over and fondled her rock hard tits and pinched her green-stemmed nipples and she cooed and moaned as if I was caressing her actual flesh. I then reached up under her short skirt and felt her rock hard bottom while she squirmed in her seat until I found the very bottom of the pumpkin and began caressing the blossom between her legs. She grabbed onto the bar rail while trying to retain her composure. I easily slipped a finger inside her and toyed with her for a bit while she began to sweat and shiver. She let me play for a few seconds more then politely and reluctantly closed her legs. “Thank you, that feels incredible. I haven’t been satisfied since long before Halloween and most men have no interest in fucking a pumpkin when it’s not in season. You don’t know how hard it has been. But I must finish my story.”

So we arrive at Pin Cushion the Thursday after Halloween and meet with the owner Zachary who has been interviewing likely candidates all week. The lobby is filled with Goth chicks of various persuasions all with numerous tattoos, too many to mention. My completely normal vanilla girlfriends and my pumpkin body are obvious outcasts amongst the group. As we are walk-ins without appointments, he did not greet us until after everyone else had left and he was ready to close around 8pm that night. Tomorrow is decision day and he must have a signed contract by close of business. He immediately writes us off as loonies based on the fact that I am still wearing my pumpkin costume. He begins explaining this is a very serious job and most girls do not understand why it is so serious. As soon as I begin talking and my pumpkin witch head moves to the words he realizes something is up. The four of us overturn our hands and display the witches curse emblazoned in our palms. I explain to him that his Aunt Hagatha sent us and it is an absolute necessity that I get the job. He is still reluctant to hear us out knowing that there is witchcraft involved somehow. After begging for two hours and forcing the four of us to remove our amulets during the interview he finally concedes and explains how it works.

The Pin Cushion Model is a model for life. She is a living and breathing work of art. Her contract lasts one year, but only Pin Cushion Studios may do work on her ever. If they decide she is tattooed to their liking, no other shop can touch or alter her. Should she personally desire more piercings, they must be approved prior to having them added. Each model is tailored to fit a certain theme and the individual shop can only recommend ideas or concepts to improve the theme or model. Neither the model nor the studio knows what the theme or style the model is going to undergo. All labor and hardware is paid for as part of the contract so women who are addicted to piercing desperately try to become future models to take advantage of the free hardware and new cutting edge body mods. There are no limits to the piercings or the things that can be done, but she can expect them to be painful, possibly permanent, and sometimes experimental. Also she must be prepared to be on display 24/7. While working at the shop she will be nude at all times. When outside of the shop she must wear 3 inch or taller heels when in public. Her skirt must not be longer then 8 inches and her midriff must be exposed at all times. Furthermore from the time she signs this contract; the pincushion logo must be on display until her contract is up. As the contract lasts for one year, but the position lasts a lifetime, 90% of the models have the PinCushion Logo tattooed in a highly visible area just to increase their fashion options.

We four girls knelt in front of him begging him to please let me do it. Rebecca, Sherry and April turned the palms over to show him the insignia permanently branded in their hands. He need only review their scars on our hands and covering nearly 100% of their bodies to realize he had no choice but to let me become his spokesperson. He knew it would be difficult since all four girls came from wealthy backgrounds and were not the usual tattooed and pierced fair. Zachary finally relented and handed me the pen, but since we weren’t wearing our amulets. My hands were still big clumsy pumpkins. I thanked him again and again and then asked him if we could start today. When I realized that I could not start until the first Friday of the New Year I was crushed I would spend two whole months as some half human half pumpkin creature. The three former beauties that now knelt branded, burnt, beaten, whipped, punctured and tortured in front of him begged for him to take pity on me and they would do anything in return.

Zachary then summoned his Aunt who instantly appeared in front of us and had been listening all along. “Thank you Auntie, but it really wasn’t necessary, I would have found a suitable model eventually. I had it under control.” They exchanged pleasantries while we four girls sat there silently hoping not to get ourselves in more trouble. “You obviously know the situation, the girls are willing to negotiate, what are you willing to give? They are willing to do anything in exchange for Tracey to get her human head, hands, and feet for two months while her contract is approved. Hagatha thought for a while and paraded around the room. Then she asked if Zachary had perfected his locking system yet. To which he replied no and Hagatha kept walking.

My final offer is the Coil for each girl and plugs to keep them out of trouble. Rebecca can vouch for the head, Sherry can go for the arms, and April can take the feet. If Tracey is willing to allow it, then she is willing to accept five-inch heels instead of three. Take it or I take your amulets in exchange or the three of you can let her suffer inside her pumpkins that she seems to love so much. Zachary tried to protest saying the punishment did not fit the crime, but the girls wanted nothing to do with it and had no idea what could be so bad about a Coil? Tracey’s hand quickly evolved and she eagerly. Tracey signed the contract, each girl followed and signed after her and they were taken to a chair in the studio.

“I will need Tracey’s assistance for this, so you will have to trust that I will follow through on my word,” said Zachary. Auntie Hagatha agreed and the pumpkins around her hands shrunk leaving her with green stem like fingers and a thick-crusted orange palm leading to a stalk-like pair of arms. “Well I guess that will work. Ladies you have agreed to accept the Labial Coil, which is a unique Chastity device I have developed. It consists of a wound spring looped though both of your pussy lips. The spring is about 2 inches in diameter that is then looped through eight holes in each of your outer lips. When the spring is fully wound in place the front end is fastened to dermal anchors and locked in place. The plug that Hagatha so fondly speaks of is attached to the spring and will be forced in your ass for the entire duration of the contract. The device will then be enlarged inside your anus to prevent accidental removal. The tail end of the spring will be attached to the anal plug and the adjustment screw so neither can be removed without first disconnecting the Coiled Spring. Any need to serve Mother Nature will have to be done using an enema and careful planning. A second plug will be placed inside your vagina and secured in place with the spring. These two constant tormenters will keep sex on your mind 24/ 7 without end. But once the Spiral is in place, vaginal sex will be impossible, anal sex will be a thing of the past, life will become unbearable.

The girls had no idea what they had signed up for, but they were certain this wasn’t it. They thrashed in their chairs to attempt getting away, but all efforts were futile. Slowly each girl was punctured with sixteen holes, then stuffed front and back with large steel phalluses. The spring was wound through each lip and then anchored at both ends. The girls were now hopelessly celibate. When the third girl was complete, Tracey’s head and feet were restored and her hands returned to normal. Hagatha walked over with an extreme pair of five-inch heels and Tracey forced her feet into the uncomfortable shoes. Once Tracey’s toes reached the bottom of the painful stringent shoe, the straps wrapped around her feet, ankle and up her calf just below her knee then the ends disappeared and merged into one. All three women were crying in tears when they were released from their seat at PinCushion. Each walked into the adjoining clothing boutique and purchased matching short skirts with the PinCushion Logo. Wearing jeans or underwear was simply too much pressure on their newly installed coils. Since they had to leave with something covering their bare asses, the indecently short skirts were the best they could do on short notice. With each stride and movement the girls could feel the spring grow and flex and pull on their lips. It was going to be a long couple of months while waiting for Tracey to start her modeling career with PinCushion and an even longer year waiting for her to finish.

I was stunned upon hearing the story when Tracey finally brought herself to look at me. I was still holding her branded palms in my hand that was shaking like a leaf. “That is my story to date, as true and as bizarre as it could be. This Friday I am scheduled to return to PinCushion and my fate is doled out to me once more. Zachary will begin piercing and tattooing my body as the main office deems attractive and I will parade it around town wearing an obscenely short skirt, a belly exposing blouse and these crazy painful five-inch heels.” She let the statement dangle in the air like a fishhook as if waiting for me to run away. I looked deep into her eyes and noticed for the first time the orange ring around the green pupil, which I was certain, was forced upon her by the witch. I glanced away from her mysterious eyes and noticed the TV was counting down and the ball was about to drop. When the count hit zero I kissed her in an embrace that lasted for hours it seemed. We left some time after one AM and took a cab back to her house which was easily 200 years old and could have been inhabited by witches long before Tracey and her friend’s purchased it. We went up stairs to the main bedroom and immediately hopped in the sack. It was truly the most unusual sexual experience I had ever embarked upon. After the first time Tracey was insatiable, one sexual encounter set her libido back in motion and she could not be stopped, we eventually passed out at four in the morning and didn’t wake until close to noon. I drifted off to sleep wondering if I to would arise in the morning to find a green stem-like penis between my legs with a pair of tiny pumpkin balls hanging below it.

When I awoke in the morning I was more than a little excited to discover that witch’s curse had not been passed onto me as my manhood was fully intact and did not appear to be changing colors or shapes. I did not have long to appreciate the experience as Tracey burst into the room shortly thereafter shouting for me to hurry downstairs Tracey came rushing into the room, her entire torso was covered in one large carved pumpkin. Her limbs and head were covered in green stems and her hands and feet ended in large round pumpkins. “Wow, how much did I drink last night? You’re a mess! Talk about beer goggles.” was all I could muster before Tracey shoved me out of bed.

“The girls are downstairs, that witch has been torturing them since noon yesterday. That’s why they skipped the bar last night they were under lock and key in the basement. Hagatha is a horrid creature; they certainly can’t take much more. My amulet disappeared some time during the night and I awoke as a full pumpkin person. I couldn’t find it and went to see if the girls could help me look for it before you woke up. I knew something was wrong because I checked their rooms but they had not slept there all night. Fearing the worst I ran down to the basement and found this.” By now we were at the basement door and as soon as it opened the room filled with deep bloodcurdling screams. The basement was filled with a multitude of ancient torture devices. Pillories, Iron Maidens, Racks, Stretchers, Human Crosses, Thumb presses, shackles of all shapes and sizes, whips chains, and things that I could not even imagine let alone understand.

In the middle of the room was a large slowly rotating wooden wheel about 8 feet in diameter. On the outside of the wheel all three woman were strapped down with her backs to the wheel. At the bottom of the wheel was a deep tub of freezing cold water. As the wheel rotated each girl was forced underwater and eventually emerged out the other side. A jet of water connected to a drive mechanism drove the wheel that then poured into the deep wooden trough. The longer the wheel turned the deeper the water got and the time underwater increased before the girls would emerge above water on the other side. In the middle of the wheel was a fire supported by the large axle. On top of the wheel was a vat of hot wax that was constantly cascading a curtain of molten wax down onto the wheel below. On either side were two spinning posts with various leather strips and ropes and sharp wires spinning on the vertical beam. As the girls entered the pool they gasped for a breath hoping the wheel would spin long enough to exit the other side. Upon going up the other side, the spinning whips would tear and shred their flesh as they screamed and gasped for another breath of air. As they reached to the top of the wheel the flames would burn their back blistering and melting the flesh to their bones as a wall of thick hot wax encrusted their bodies from above. As they screamed again, knotted leather strips beat and pummeled their bodies stripping the hot wax from their tortured flesh; they had a few precious nanoseconds to gasp for another breath of air before entering the cold deep pool. As one girl would enter the pool, another would exit the pool on the opposite side while the third was on top being burnt and coated in fresh wax. It was a viscous cycle that seemed to have been going on for nearly 24 hours.

“You must do something, I’ve got no hands and they surely can’t last much longer.” I quickly surveyed the scene and ran to their rescue. I quickly grabbed a bucket of water and doused the fire burring in the middle of the wheel. I then released the drain plug allowing the water level in the wooden tub to start to decrease. I found a dirty length of PVC pipe to divert the flow of water from the pump mechanism to splash onto the floor while the water level continued to drop inside the tub. While the water drained from the tub, I removed the two drive belts from the whipping posts to prevent any further abuse from the spinning leather straps. Soon the tub was empty and I turned off the flow of water to the pump mechanism allowing the wheel to stop rotating. Once the wheel was off, I removed the first girl from the wheel and undid her straps. April fell lifelessly into the wooden tub barely breathing. Tracey and I rolled her body off to the side careful not to damage the last precious shreds of skin hanging from her battered skeleton.

Sherry was next and was barely able to move. Tracey was sitting on the dirty ground between the lifeless bodies of Sherry and April trying to console them and bring them back to consciousness while I worked to remove Rebecca. Rebecca was last to exit the wheel and was surprisingly in the best of shape. Her body had been burnt alive so many times before that her thick-scarred skin was almost immune to the abuse. I helped her stand up out of the tub and she tried to regain her balance against the machine. Anxious to return herself and the other girls to their publicly accepted appearances she reached for the amulets that were hanging from a hook on the evil wheel of pain. Little did she know the tokens were a trap left by Witch Hagatha. The instant the necklaces were moved the wax reservoir above the wheel was released. Without any warning Rebecca was instantly buried in 200 gallons of hot clear wax. Before she could move the wax froze to the cold concrete and instantly incased her in a six-foot tall five-foot wide stalagmite of rock solid wax. I had barely time to clear the solidifying goop from her mouth and nose before she froze completely. Unfortunately I was standing too close to her and my feet were buried up above my knees in the solidifying mess while my hands were buried to their elbows keeping her airway clear of the molten liquid.

Rebecca in a reaction to the waterfall of wax from above quickly pulled her hands to her chest burying the amulets deep against her stomach. Tracey attempted to come to my rescues when she discovered a side effect of being one hundred percent pumpkin. Much like the day she returned to Hagatha’s farmhouse, anytime she stayed still too long in the dirt, her feet and legs would plant themselves. Her full body pumpkin was now firmly planted in the dirt-covered concrete in the medieval torture chamber. Soon Tracey’s hands slowly receded into the pumpkin shell and her pumpkin guts were replaced by a plate of three candles much like the night in front of Hagatha’s Haunted Farmhouse. Soon her green-stemmed head turned solid eliminating any speech from her lips. Rebecca and I waited patiently for either Sherry or April to become conscious and begin the process of digging us out of the wax so we could retrieve all the tokens and begin digging Tracey’s legs from the concrete floor. Neither girl would wake for 24 hours giving Rebecca and I plenty of time to get to know one another.

Once Sherry and April regained consciousness, we had to wait until dark to visit the shed in the back of the property to get shovels and axes to dig through the wax, which was slowly turning to stone and continued getting harder. The rescue operation was further hindered as April’s fingers were mangled and her protective nails were removed from the first night in the house, which made any manual labor very painful. Sherry was little help as when she was removed from the wheel, her entire body from her navel to her toes was still encrusted in thick stone like wax. It would take April almost 24 hours to chip me out of the wax so I could begin freeing Sherry’s legs from her stalagmite pillar of rocky wax. Once free the two girls began digging up Tracey while I chipped Rebecca out of the stone pillar in the basement. It would be late Friday and just in time for Tracey’s first appointment at PinCushion before everyone was free and back to his or her normal cursed self.