The room seemed almost surreal to her now. As she lay on her bed, drifting in the narcotic haze of the pills, she could almost feel the air around her, a liquid like water-thick and unyielding. The room was growing darker, and she was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. The pain was less now; she could barely feel anything anymore.
A deep breath. Her last?
A thought struck her. Who would find her, laid out here like this? What would they think? It would be a shame to have gotten dressed up only to be found in some awkward position. Would she twitch, or would it be like falling asleep?
Another breath.
The room was getting dim. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She felt a small trickle of liquid run down the inside of her thigh. Reflexively she squeezed her legs together. No, please God, nothing messy. This was her best dress. She got ready for this just so she’s be pretty. Please God, no pee.
Her breath rattled. The pain was gone.
Who would find here, here in her best dress? Who would find her? Momma?
Wheeze.
Momma? Is that you? I’m so cold.
Her chest fell and darkness engulfed her.
Momma?
#
It was kind of the same floaty feeling she’d felt after she took the pills, but it was kind of different. She actually felt like she was flying.
She opened her eyes. There she was, not five feet away lying in bed. She chewed her lip when she saw the damp stain on her beautiful dress. It took her a few moments to realize that she wasn’t actually lying on the bed, but looking at herself lying on the bed. She seemed to be floating above the bed a little bit, and off to the right. She was flying, and the pain was gone.
She was dead.
And she’d peed herself.
There were other people in the room. In the corner her mother was sobbing into her father’s chest. The town doctor was saying something she couldn’t hear to two other boys. She couldn’t hear anything that they were saying actually. Things were very quiet-like she was deaf.
The boys nodded, and while the doctor hustled her parents out of the bedroom, they unrolled a big plastic sheet beside her on the bed.
One boy stood up on the bed, bent low and grasped her body underneath her arms. The other boy grasped her ankles. She could barely feel their touch, but it was there-as if she felt them move her from a distance.
A small thrill ran through her. No boy had ever touched her before. Daddy wouldn’t let his sixteen-year-old girl see any of the local boys, not especially with her so sick. She’d always wondered what it would feel like when a boy touched her leg.
It was kind of like when she snuck a kiss from Johnny Reese. It was a funny, warm feeling.
The next little while seemed like a blur to her. They wrapped her up in the plastic sheet and put her in the back of the ambulance. They didn’t turn on the siren, or drive real fast, but they did heard directly for the hospital. She knew the rout well.
It was late when they got there. The hospital corridors were pretty empty as they rolled her body, covered in a white sheet now down to the morgue. She cringed a little bit when they took off her shoes and tossed them into a little brown bag. They were Momma’s shoes, and real expensive too. Then they took out a pair of scissors and cut her pantyhose at her right ankle. It tickled a little bit as they tied a little tag to her big toe.
She giggled a little bit. Being dead was way more fun than being sick.
The boys rolled the gurney she was on into the cooler and turned off the light.
#
When she woke up it was some time later and the light was real bright. She wasn’t in the hospital anymore she didn’t think. Mr. Ferguson was the funeral director of the local funeral home, and he and his son were moving around some equipment in a small room that looked more like a clean garage than the morgue where she’d been last night.
Her heart began to race as Mr. Ferguson reached for the buttons on her blouse. This wasn’t good. Mr. Ferguson would see her titties. She looked for a way to escape, but found she couldn’t seem to get more than five or ten feet from her body.
By this time the older man had unbuttoned her white blouse, and pulled it apart, showing her bra below. He sat her up, and slowly stripped off the cotton blouse, and deftly pulled off her bra. Her titties jiggled a little bit as he laid her back down again. She started crying as he reached for her skirt.
Mr. Ferguson rolled her over on her side to unzip the dress from the back, and through her tears she saw a brown stain right below her bum, one that matched the yellow one on the front.
Oh she had messed her pretty dress real bad!
He unzipped her skirt, and let her lay back on her back, setting her titties to jiggling again. Then gently lifting up her legs, he pulled off her stained skirt, and set it aside. With his son Tom’s help he then slid his fingers under both her pantyhose and her stained panties and with one swift pull slid both down her white legs.
She was naked as a jaybird now, and both men could see her cunny and titties. She sniffled a little bit-embarrassed. Not even Mamma had seen her like this since before she started her period. The two men seemed to ignore her nakedness though while they busied themselves with their equipment.
Mr. Ferguson looked up and away as if hearing something. He then turned to his son, pointed towards her naked body and said a few short sentences. Leaving Tom behind with her, Mr. Ferguson left the little room.
Tom took a couple of cotton balls and packed them into his nose. He then placed both his hands on her tummy, just above her belly button. She giggled a little in between sniffles, because it kind of tickled. In a counter-clockwise manner Tom pushed down and around with his hands. She felt that funny tingling feeling again, but something else. She felt like she was on the toilette, and when she looked back at Tom’s hands she saw that little streams of pee were trickling out of her, and a small bit of poop seemed to push out of her every time Tom pushed. She looked away quickly, but soon enough the feeling passed, and she felt the cool shill of water wash over her.
Tom was using a small hose and a sponge with some soap on it to wash her off. He started with her face and neck, pausing when his hand reached her titties. Very gently he massaged them with the sponge, and her warm tingly feeling got stronger. The sponge moved across her belly, caressing it in a way she’d never felt before. A small moan escaped her lips.
The water washed across her thighs, and Tom paused to scrub her little bush of hair. She gasped. His hand and the hose slipped under her bum as he washed the poop away, but she felt a wonderful tickle as his thumb rubbed up against the lips of her cunny.
His touch was gentle and exciting as he washed down her legs and dried her off with a towel. She closed her eyes and imagined him kidding her. She imagined his hands touching her, not with a sponge but as a husband might touch his wife.
When she opened her eyes the bright lights were off and the room was lit only by a small light high overhead. Tom was returning from the door where he’d thrown the bolt, and somewhat clumsily undressed himself.
He moved towards her, and she couldn’t help but glance at his manhood. It was big and hard, and that thrilled her too.
He caressed her long brown hair, and ran his finger over her lips, parting them slightly. She felt him press his lips against hers and the gentle probing of his tongue into her mouth. She wished she could move her tongue to touch him.
She moaned again, louder this time, as he gently sucked on her right breast. His hand drew her legs apart, and she felt his thumb run against her womanhood. She seemed on fire now. Gently he kissed her, one after another each getting closer and closer to her cunny.
His tongue probed the lips of cunt and she groaned with pleasure. He sucked on it, letting his tongue dart in and out. Each touch seemed to stoke her fire. She was trembling now.
He moved around and crawled up onto the table, spreading her legs even wide and hefting them onto his shoulder. He pushed his penis up against the lips of her cunt and began to apply pressure. She gasped in shock and pain as he broke her cherry-though no blood was evident.
Then he was inside her. It was the most wonderful feeling she’d ever felt. In the hospital, after the radiation, she’d often dreamed of a man in her like this, a big, strong, handsome man like Tom Ferguson. Oh how he filled her. The pleasure was overwhelming.
He started off slow, almost teasingly, one hand cupping her breast and the other squeezing her bum. Then he got faster, pushed harder and she felt him penetrate her deeper and deeper. She felt like she was about to explode.
And then he did. It was like a warm wave rushing all through her insides. He lay there on top of her for some time, his hands gently caressing her face and breasts. After a while he kissed her on the lips and slowly pulled out of her. She was still glowing with pleasure as he washed his cum off her thighs and covered her once again in a sheet.
She’d never felt so wonderful.
#
The funeral was beautiful. The choir sang her favorite hymns, and the pastor read some beautiful passages about faith and love. She smiled with tears in her eyes. Everything was so beautiful. Mamma had given Mr. Ferguson her wedding dress, and they had dressed her up just like a bride. She’d always wanted to wear Momma’s dress, but hadn’t expected to be buried in it.
And while she was sad that she’d never get to see any of these folks again-or at least not for a long time-she still had a warm glow about her.
For you see, Tom Ferguson had finished getting her ready, and he never cleaned up the inside of her before he put the little rubber plugs into her cunny and bum. She could still feel the awkward little things stuck in there, all glued and sewn up, with their little tubes poking up against her panties. But she could also feel the warmth of Tom Ferguson inside her.
They buried her in a little plot not far from her parent’s farm, and she knew now she’d never be able to leave. She was a suicide, and the Lord punished sins like that. She’d spent all of eternity alone here beside her grave. Waiting for judgement day.
Alone, but not quite alone. There was a little bit of Tom Ferguson in her, and that kept her warm.