A few weeks before the holiday, Mr. P sat looking at the new letter on his table. It was from Henry, written in fanciful script and on old yellowed paper, clearly made to look antique. Actually, knowing the man, it might have been an actual historical bit of stationary. It was an invite to another party, for both him and Isabelle, as guests of honor, to a grand Thanksgiving feast. Again it would be hosted at the castle, but this time Henry implied that Isabelle, though fun to use, and something that he would happily play with again, wouldn’t be the main attraction. Folded in with the letter was a black and white polaroid of one of the girls from the Halloween party that he had seen. She was naked and lying on a table, looking a tad nervous. 

“He can’t be fucking serious” Mr. P muttered, looking at it. For a long while the surgeon pondered if it could actually be true. Was the image implying that the girl was going to be the feast? The fact that he considered that Henry may actually do such a thing was slightly terrifying in its own right. In the end though, his cock was growing harder as he stared at the image and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess there’s only one way to find out I suppose” he muttered and quickly checked the box that he would attend and put it back into another envelope to send back. Still, he was too horny now to bring it to the post office. Instead he went outside to the bunker. It was time for Isabelle to earn her keep. 

Isabelle felt the vibrations of the box shaking and then the rush of air as the lid was opened. She smiled brightly she imagined, and then winced as the ring that was secured in her pubic mound was used to lift her from her little world of solitude and carry her like a briefcase. She swung around on it, her whole weight held by the piercing. It was a delicious pain, and she knew she was getting turned on by it. 

Then she stopped and she felt something getting pulled into her hair and then she felt herself getting lifted by that, her body dangling about. She felt as if something was hoisting her higher, tugging on her scalp, and then a moment passed and she felt something push against her ass, stinging and painful. Like nettles.

What it really was Isabelle didn’t know, but she called it the sting dick. Whatever it was, the Stranger had used it on her before. It burned in her pussy and her ass and made them swell up and get super hot and tight. She felt it being worked deep into her butt, pushed as far into her as she could take it and then it was ripped from her and the same thing was done again and again until her ass was too swollen to get the tip in. Then it stopped and Isabelle felt something moving along her skin. Lips and a tongue, prowling about her flesh but stopping on her butt cheek. With a deep inhale drawing break over her cool skin, something else was pushed up against her ass. A warm, very hard cock. 

Her asshole was so swollen that it was hard to force it in. The Stranger had to work hard to do so, really tugging down on her piercings and torso. It hurt so good, her unwilling body being forced to submit to a fucking. Then, it finally broke through and he began to brutally fuck her burning ass. 

It was a complete surprise when a shock of electricity was delivered to her pussy and she squirted, her whole body contracting on the shock, and it felt like hundreds of little bolts rushing through her. She didn’t even realize at first that she was on the floor, getting pounded into it like a doormat, and as soon as she recovered from the first shock, a second one jolted her again. The shock continued, blanking out her mind and completely absorbing her as she felt her body soaring beyond herself. 

Over and over she she was shocked while the fucking continued, a brutal and rough pounding that dragged her still healing tits across the floor, splitting open her left nipple again and leaving her with what were probably going to be numerous bruises. She couldn’t tell if she was pissing herself over and over again or if she was squirting as she came. Her answer didn’t come until after the Stranger stopped fucking her and came in her ass and then left her on the floor and pushed her head down. Happily fucked and tortured, Isabelle began licking up the cold concrete floor to clean up her mess.

Mr. P watched Isabelle clean up her piss and put the stun gun away. Then rather than just putting her back into the box as usual, he decided that today would be a good day to try out the new box that he had devised. A torturous device to keep her in constant pain. He lifted her up by her pubic ring again and placed her in it. Like the other box, it had a mold fitted to her, but needles nearly half an inch long and thick stuck into the space where she lay, piercing her skin and sinking into her. There were almost a hundred of them and they stopped her from actually hitting the mold, like a more painful bed of nails. Then he pushed the lid down, suspending her in place by them. A few quick button presses and the electric shocks being delivered through the needles began.

A couple weeks passed and Mr. P loaded up his car and began the drive out to Henry’s castle with Isabelle loaded in the crate. The sky was still dark, and would be for a while. Henry had specifically requested his presence a week earlier than Thanksgiving Day along with a hefty bit of surgical equipment, and he was starting to guess why. With a raging hard on and thinking of all the possibilities, he began the long drive to the secluded castle.

Dawn was just creeping over the horizon as he pulled into the drive. He walked up to the door, wheeling Isabelle’s box behind him. A butler greeted him and let him in, escorting him to a sitting room where Henry appeared moments later. 

“Mr. P, so glad that you could make it! I don’t know what I’d do today if I hadn’t met you.” Henry greeted him with a firm handshake and a warm smile. “And thank you as well for bringing that special toy of yours today.”

“I’m happy to be here, and excited to see if you’re really going to hold up to the promise of that invitation of yours.” Mr. P smiled and watched Henry closely to see his reaction. The man just smiled at him with a gleam of pride and excitement in his bright eyes.

“Oh, I believe you’ll find it satisfactory. Since we are getting right into it, I suppose there is someone that I should introduce you to.” He went over to a door and opened it and called into the room beyond. “Our guest is here Morgan, come meet him!”

A few moments passed and a nude young lady, probably about 20 stepped into the room a little nervously. Her long brown hair trailed down her back to the top of her firm buttocks and she covered her perky breasts with one arm, looking down at the floor. Mr. P still recognized the fair face of the girl. She had been present the last time he had been here. She had actually attended to him as he was taking care of Isabelle. “It is an honor to meet you sir” she said softly.

“I recall having met you before actually” Mr. P. said.

“This is Morgan. She’s going to be our meal for Thanksgiving.” Said Henry proudly and she shuddered.

Mr. P couldn’t help but look surprised. To hint at it was one thing, but to actually eat a person was another and to announce it so nonchalantly. He couldn’t help but let his eyes go wide. 

Henry noticed and broke out laughing. “We aren’t going to kill her if that’s what you’re thinking.” Morgan shuddered again, and Mr. P noticed her hand drifting down, exposing her bright nipples. Her fingers began to work away at her pussy, already glistening. “She was inspired by your toy, and she asked me if she could be permanently mutilated like her. We’ll be eating whatever we cut off. She did have a request beforehand however…”

“Can I please play with her?” asked Morgan, looking at the box.

Mr. P took a deep breath to calm down and take in the situation. “Sure, I don’t see why not,” he said, opening up the box. 

Isabelle painfully felt the needles in her front pull away as the lid of the box opened. She could feel the little rivulets of blood dripping down her from the holes that they had punctured. She wasn’t sure how long she had been getting shocked for, but it had felt like an eternity and she felt she had drifted to sleep somehow a few times during it just through sheer exhaustion, which she still felt. Still she told herself, this new torture was over, and it had been blissful while it was happening. 

The hands on her didn’t feel right. They were too soft. And too small. She felt them running over her shoulders and hips, feeling the places where her arms and legs had once been, and then running gently over her eyes and ears. This was different. It was strange and confusing to Isabelle. It wasn’t pain or sex, it was just, strange. She lay silently and still, unsure of what she should do in a situation like this any more. 

“She really asked for this?” asked Morgan nervously.

“She begged for it. Did all the set up to fake her own disappearance as well.” Mr 

P reached over and twisted one of Isabelle’s nipples hard and she smiled. “She truly wanted all of it. And I don’t think that she’s regretted it.”

“She can’t speak right? How can you tell?” 

“I can still see her smile when I beat her, and she cums when I abuse her. She might not be sane anymore, but she is happy.”

Henry smiled and came up behind Morgan and started to grab her ass. “Seen enough to be sure that this is what you want? To be turned into another living sex toy like her?”

Slowly Morgan nodded. “I do.”

Morgan was active in helping establish the modifications that would be made to her body. She didn’t want the senselessness that Isabelle had, but she did want some even more severe mutilations. It took Mr. P. nearly the whole week to carry them out, and even then he was a little concerned that he was doing so much so quickly, but Morgan continued to spur him on and Henry housed him and paid him graciously for his services. 

Thanksgiving morning, Mr. P roused Morgan from her slumber, which she had been in since the last of her surgeries. “Good morning” he said, changing some of her bandages, and making her wounds presentable for the day.

“Shouldn’t a chef be doing this?” she asked with a little grin.

“I’m fairly certain that Henry has a chef downstairs addressing the rest of you” Mr. P said with a little chuckle. “I’m surprised that you’re taking this as well as you are. Most often people who go through surgeries like this take a long time to cope with it.”

“Most I’m sure don’t do it willingly” Morgan said. She frowned a little. “I may regret it at some point, but for now, this is the way that I can live my life to the fullest. Isabelle showed me that.”

Dinner started at around 3pm. The guests arrived in a trickle, about ten of them in total. Most of them had been present for the Halloween show, but some were new, and there were a few who had been at that show that were missing. Mr. P. was there when Jeff arrived.

“Hey, I hear you’ve been getting along with Henry pretty well” the squirlish man said with a laugh, pulling Mr. P. into a bit of a wrestling jostle. “I heard you’ve been here for a week or so now, getting ready for this.” 

“How do you hear about this stuff?” asked Mr. P., certain that he hadn’t told Jeff, and surprised since Henry had wanted to keep it all secret.

Jeff shrugged. “I have my ways.”

The two talked about some other stuff as the rest of the guests arrived and made their way to the ornate dining hall. There was mention of how Isabelle was doing, problems Jeff was having with a new relationship of his, a car breakdown, new hires at work. A strange mix of normal and bizarre. 

The room itself also seemed to reflect that air. The traditional Thanksgiving decorations of gourds, a cornucopia, leaves, hay bales, and turkeys filled the space, but Henry had again found two women to serve the guests in the nude save for orange and red headbands, and the paintings on the wall all depicted scenes of violent sexual torture. The normal and the bizarre.

“Alright everyone” Henry declared, taking his place at the head of the table, always the one for theatrics it seemed. “Welcome to the Greatest Thanksgiving that you’ve ever had! I don’t know how many of you remember this young woman from our Halloween celebration, given how brightly our guest of honor shone that day, but I’m sure some of you might have noticed her.” He handed out a large printed photo of Morgan standing naked next to Isabelle and murmurs and glances were cast towards Mr. P “I doubt that many of you would recognize her now though!”

Mr. P turned to the door behind Henry and watched as a few women started wheeling in carts with food and drinks. Wines, eggnog, and other drinks were on the first cart. There were soups and cornbread, with cheeses and crackers. A massive bowl of mashed potatoes and buttered carrots and green bean casserole. The smells were delicious, but conspicuously missing was the main dish. The turkey or the ham. People took food, still hesitant and waiting and watching the door, waiting for Morgan to make her appearance.

When she did, there was a gasp and a moment of still shock and silence. Lying in the midst of a human sized tray, she was dressed in fresh bandages that hid the still gruesome wounds from her procedures, but it was still clear what was missing, as most of it was on the tray with her.

Both of Morgan’s arms and legs had been removed and had been cut and prepared, now a rich bronze from having been cooked, the once pale skin looked crisp and oily with fats and juices, like parts of a roast pig. One of her breasts was perched on a platform above her, also roasted to perfection, the other one just to the side of it for comparison, still attached to the chest where the other had come from. And between her legs, arrayed to mimic how they had been before were the little tiny morsels of her inner pussy lips and clit. All of her was beautifully garnished, and Mr. P had to wonder how Henry had found such an incredible chef to do this. And the smell, it was incredible, rich and heavy, but so good and hunger inducing. The guests suddenly found their mouths watering and 

“I hope you all enjoy me,” said Morgan, looking around as she was laid in the center of the table. “Of course, Mr. P gets the first pick of cuts!” she looked at him with a smile as he grabbed a  carving knife and looked at Henry. 

“Go for it, and then everyone, dig in!”

Mr. P smiled, took a large slice of breast, one of the pussy lips and a bit of what would have been her shank, or upper arm. The taste was everything that the smell was.

Dinner carried on, with people chatting and remarking how incredible Morgan tasted. She watched intensely as people devoured her, and some people noticed that the bandages around her pussy were getting wet. It was enough incentive for people to start moving her, and though her pussy was still covered and healing, they fucked her ass on the table.

Isabelle too was pulled out of the box and passed around as dinner was eaten, used to satisfy a number of the guests and given Morgan’s femur to chew on like a dog. Mr. P wasn’t sure if she could tell what it was, but it was almost hotter knowing that she was eating a steak of Morgan’s leg without knowing that it wasn’t just another bit of ham or beef. 

Dessert followed, with pies, more drinks, and cookies. People leaned back in their chairs, stuffed. Nearly all of Morgan had been polished off, leaving sparkling white bones behind, scattered around the table, free for guests to take if they wanted to.

Mr. P was stuffed, filled to the brim with meat from Morgan. He leaned back in his seat, his belt working hard to keep his pants together and his shirt in. The rich taste still lingered in his mouth. If he could fit another bite without popping, he would, but for now he was too full to take another bite. Still, his gaze drifted to Morgan, lying on the table still and their gaze met.

“Everything alright Morgan?” he asked, slightly worried that her wounds might have reopened from the sex people had with her, or that she was regretting what had been done.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, better than fine actually but…. I was wondering….” she kind of trailed off a little and Mr. P waited for her to continue. Others were leaving the room, heading into the foyer, leaving the room a little quieter. “Would you…” her voice dropped to barely a whisper.

“What was that?” asked Mr. P. He leaned in closer.

“Would you please fuck me?” she said, still barely speaking. He chuckled a little and she seemed to grow a little upset. “You’ve been operating on me for a week and I wanted to do something to thank you but you’ve never used me. Is there something wrong?”

To answer, Mr. P simply undid his belt and climbed up onto the table as she smiled. “I just prefer for the lady to ask” he said with a smile and sunk into her warm tight ass. 

“What about Isabelle?” asked Morgan. 

Mr. P winked. “She’s special.” Then he began to thrust in and out of her. Though Morgan couldn’t move much and doing so would have hurt, despite the strong local anesthetics that she had, he could see her getting closer and closer to a climax as he matched her pace. Soon he was thrusting into her far harder than he would have recommended, but his lust kept spurring him onwards.

With a groan and a final deep thrust, he came deep inside her ass, and barely held himself up above her. She lay panting beneath him, her mutilated chest heaving. “That was…”

“That was a wonderful thank you.” Mr. P said, getting up. Before he could Morgan stretched her head up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.