Sarah pulled into her garage and parked her car. A freshly
lit Marlboro 100 was dangling from her lips. She took a
long drag from her cigarette, inhaled deeply, and took
another long drag, all while the cigarette continued to
dangle from her sensuous lips. She held the smoke in her
lungs and felt a tingle. As she started to exhale the smoke
through her nostrils, she took another very long and very
deep drag. She sighed as she felt the smoke fill her black,
ruined lungs. The Polmonis’ lawn had just been cut. The
smell of fresh, cut grass was in the air, but Sarah
couldn’t tell. Her sense of smell, like her lungs, had been
ruined by her lifetime of heavy smoking. Everything smelled
like nicotine to Sarah. She liked it that way.
This had not been just another ordinary day for Sarah. In
fact, it had been the most extraordinary day of Sarah’s
smoke-filled existence. It was her twenty-third birthday
and she had just returned from her doctor’s office where
she had learned of two “gifts” growing inside her unhealthy
body. One of the gifts was completely unexpected. It was a
baby. Sarah had just found out she was pregnant. She was
still reeling from this news and didn’t quite know what to
do about it yet. The second gift was most welcome, indeed.
It was the most wonderful gift Sarah could have hoped for.
It was something most people would not exactly think of as
a gift, but for Sarah it was a dream come true. It was a
malignant tumor in her right lung. Yes, at the tender age
of twenty-three, an age when most women are planning
families and looking ahead to long, happy futures, Sarah
was dying of lung cancer. She had brought it all on herself
and nothing could have made her happier.
For as long as Sarah could remember, she had been obsessed
with destroying her lungs. Nothing excited her more than to
think of her sludge-filled chest turning blacker each day.
But just making her lungs blacker was not enough to satisfy
Sarah. She wanted the satisfaction of knowing that she had
completely ruined her own lungs. She wanted to feel her
lungs fall apart, bit by bit, and stop working because of
her own cigarette smoking. Her ultimate goal and fondest
wish was to die of lung cancer. At long last her wish was
coming true.
Sarah was completely helpless to do anything about her
situation. She was past the point of no return. No matter
what happened from this point on, she was going to die of
lung cancer. This very feeling of total helplessness
created the most intense sexual arousal Sarah had ever
felt. She loved the feeling of being dominated by her
smoking and being unable to do anything about it. She had
been in a state of total arousal since receiving the news
from her doctor. Her panties were soaked and she couldn’t
stop rubbing herself. Before today, it had been somehow
different. There had always been the option of quitting or
cutting down, no matter how unlikely. Sarah had never even
considered giving up cigarettes. They were, in fact, her
entire life. But still, in the back of her mind, she had
always known that if, for some inconceivable reason, she
had ever lost the urge to destroy her lungs and had decided
that maybe living to a ripe, old age was a desirable thing,
the option of quitting had always been there. That option
was no longer there for Sarah. She had no options. She had
no future. Her fate was entirely in the hands of her
beloved Marlboro 100s. It was no longer a question of “if”
Sarah would die of lung cancer, it was simply a question of
“when.” As she considered her impending demise and her
inability to do anything about it, Sarah inhaled deeply
from her cigarette, moaned in her husky, wheezing smoker’s
voice, reached her hand into her panties, and brought
herself to another highly intense climax.
Sarah smiled as she remembered the last time she had even
briefly entertained thoughts of quitting. It was nearly six
years ago on the athletic track behind her high school. As
she stood on the field smoking a cigarette she watched the
school’s star athlete, Nicki St. James, run laps around the
track. Sarah felt a momentary sense of envy as she marveled
at Nicki’s perfectly healthy athletic body. She wondered
what it would be like to be able to run around the track,
even once. Sarah had never been able to run any distance at
all without becoming quickly out of breath. Even as a child
of five Sarah was smoking a pack and a half of
full-flavored Marlboro 100s per day and was unable to keep
up with the other kids in any sort of athletic endeavor. As
she watched Nicki run lap after lap without the slightest
sign of exertion, Sarah thought that maybe…just
maybe…she could try to quit cigarettes and see what kind
of health nut she could turn herself into. Hell, if she
didn’t like it, she could always go back to smoking. But a
sudden coughing spell jolted Sarah back to her senses. She
quickly realized she could never give up cigarettes, even
if she wanted to. She had no free will of her own. Her body
and her very life were completely at the mercy of Philip
Morris and the other tobacco companies. She would smoke as
long as they deemed it was necessary for her to smoke. She
would die when they decided it was time for her to die. She
wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She only wished
there were something more than merely her life that she
could give to the tobacco companies.
Sarah’s smile became broader as she thought about what had
happened to Nicki after that day on the track. Nicki, of
course, had started smoking, primarily because of Sarah. It
made Sarah feel quite proud to know that she had been able
to influence the most militant anti-smoker in the school to
start smoking. And, not only did Nicki start smoking, she
became a complete nicotine fiend almost from the start. Her
healthy, pink lungs of enormous capacity could never seem
to get enough smoke. She quickly jumped from a pack a day,
to two packs, to three packs per day in just a few short
months. Sarah had recently spoken to Nicki and was
delighted to learn that Nicki was now smoking four packs of
Newport 100s per day and had developed a nice gurgly
smoker’s cough. Sarah dragged deeply on her cigarette as
she laughed at the irony. Sarah had actually envied Nicki’s
healthy body and pink lungs, but all along it was Nicki who
wanted to be just like Sarah. In one of the most amazing
transformations from anti-smoker to smoker, from energetic
athlete to wheezing spectator, Nicki had turned her lungs
from the pinkest, healthiest lungs in her school to black,
smelly, tar-coated ash bags rivaling those of Sarah
herself. Sarah chained into another Marlboro 100, lighting
the fresh cigarette between her lips from the glowing butt
between her fingers. She inhaled deeply and imagined the
chemicals in her smoke fusing with the cells in her lungs
and further mutating her lungs’ already highly altered
genetic material. She could almost feel the tumor in her
lung growing. She felt warm and tingly all over as she
stepped out of her car.
Sarah opened the door to her house and heard the familiar
sound of Mitzi’s coughing. Sarah walked back to Mitzi’s
room. There was Mitzi, sitting in her wheelchair with a
freshly opened pack of Kool Super Longs, a lighter, and an
ashtray in her lap and a freshly lit cigarette dangling
from her lips. She was holding her oxygen mask in one hand,
ready to take a dose of oxygen when it became necessary.
Mitzi, Sarah’s stepmother, was in the advanced stages of
emphysema. Mark had lost one wife to lung cancer and was
about to lose another to emphysema. Mitzi could no longer
walk and could only speak with great difficulty. She
basically did nothing but smoke cigarettes all day long.
“Hi, Mitzi,” said Sarah. “I have some wonderful news.”
Sarah took a long cheek-hollowing drag from her cigarette
and inhaled deeply.
“Hi…honey,” said Mitzi, wheezing heavily. She took a long
drag from her cigarette as well. She smiled as she felt the
cool menthol hit the back of her throat and fill her
brittle lungs. “What is…your … (cough) … news?”
“Promise not to tell Daddy,” said Sarah. “I want to
surprise him myself when he gets home. Oh, Mitzi, it’s what
I’ve always wanted. I just came back from Dr. Richards’
office. He told me … that I have … brace yourself … a
malignant tumor in my right lung!” Sarah grinned as she
inhaled a long drag from her Marlboro 100 and held the
smoke deep in her lungs. “It’s true! I am just twenty-three
and I have terminal lung cancer. I did it! I have destroyed
my own lungs. Soon I will be dead. And it’s all my own
doing.” Short bursts of smoke came out of her mouth with
each syllable.
A tear trickled from Mitzi’s eye as she tried to speak.
“Lucky … (cough) … girl,” she wheezed. “I knew you
would … (wheeze) … do it. I … (cough) … just didn’t
think … (gasp) … it would be … (cough) … this
soon.” Mitzi and Sarah embraced. Each started crying, but
their tears were tears of joy.
“I may beat you to the grave, after all,” said Sarah as she
inhaled another deep drag from her Marlboro 100. “The tumor
is very small right now. The doctor said I could have
anywhere from six months to a year left. But you know I’ll
do my best to speed up the process.” Sarah grinned as her
cheeks indented deeply around the darkening filter of her
Marlboro 100. The tip of her cigarette glowed brightly as
she sucked down another lungful of carcinogenic nectar.
“Your father … (hack) … will be … (cough) … so …
(wheeze) … happy,” said Mitzi, struggling to catch her
breath. She took a long drag from her Kool 100, inhaled
deeply, and placed her oxygen mask over her face. She
breathed the oxygen in deeply several times and gradually
got her breath back. She removed the mask and took another
long drag from her cigarette.
“I know,” said Sarah, smiling. “I can’t wait till he gets
home. I’m so excited.” Her smile turned to a frown as she
said, “Oh, I almost forgot, I’m pregnant, too.” She took a
long drag from her Marlboro 100 and inhaled all of the
smoke deep into her lungs.
“Pregnant?” gasped Mitzi as she inhaled mentholated smoke
deep into her nearly useless lungs.
“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting that,” said Sarah. “My first
thought was to have an abortion. But I thought about it
more as I drove home. It’s too early to tell what the baby
is yet. If it’s I boy, I definitely want to have an
abortion. But if it’s a girl, I’m thinking maybe I should
have the baby…if I live long enough, that is. Being
pregnant is the last thing I need at this point in my life.
But maybe it would be nice to leave a legacy. In fact, I
think it would sort of be my duty. I think it would make
Daddy quite pleased. She would be raised to be a smoker.
With my genes, she would be a natural. Even though I can’t
wait to be snuffed out with the last cigarette I smoke, I
guess it would be an honor to bring another female smoker
into the world.”
“Who’s … (wheeze) … the father?” asked Mitzi between
drags from her Kool 100.
“I don’t know for certain. I don’t even know how far along
I am in my pregnancy, so it’s hard to pinpoint who the
father is. It could very likely be Tom. I’ve been with him
the most, recently. But, he’s not the only one I’ve been
with,” said Sarah with a twinkle in her eye. “I don’t care
who the father is. I don’t even want to know. She will be
my daughter, and that’s all that matters. I have to make
sure she takes to smoking right from the start. Somehow, I
have to increase my smoking. I’ve got to do everything
possible to make sure she is heavily addicted to nicotine
at birth.”
“I’m sure … (cough) … you can … (hack) … do it,”
said Mitzi as she inhaled another lungful of mentholated
smoke and slapped her oxygen mask to her face.
“Oh, Mitzi, I can’t tell you how wonderful I feel,” said
Sarah, squirming and rubbing her pussy. “I am going to die
in the prime of life, before ever having a chance to
experience the things that a woman is supposed to
experience. I have no future. No more birthdays. No more
Christmases. Nothing to look forward to but a slow, painful
death from lung cancer. And I brought it all on myself. Dr.
Richards said he has never seen worse looking lungs than
mine. I am so happy I will be able to make such a sacrifice
for my cigarettes. I would gladly give more if I could. I
will die without ever having a husband. I will never own my
own home. I may or may not live long enough to experience
childbirth, but even if I do, I will never experience the
raising of my child. I will leave a motherless infant
behind. My daughter will never know her own mother. My baby
will be deprived of her mother at a time when she will need
me the most and will probably suffer emotional problems
because of it. If the baby can even survive in my unhealthy
body, the chances are good that she will suffer some sort
of damage in my womb. She could be born with brain damage
or other birth defects due to the lack of oxygen she will
suffer. She will have underdeveloped lungs and a low birth
weight. She will never be able to run or do anything
athletic. She will have trouble climbing the stairs in her
own house, as I did. She will frequently be sick and will
cough a lot. Other children will make fun of her because of
her coughing and wheezing. And if the baby doesn’t survive,
that’s one more statistic we can chalk up to smoking.
Either way, I will feel gratified. I will never see my
daughter graduate or walk down the aisle. I will never be a
grandmother. I will miss out on so many things, all because
of my smoking. And, the best part is, I did it all to
myself.” Sarah was rubbing herself furiously, now.
Mitzi, feeling quite aroused herself, was rubbing her pussy
while inhaling from her oxygen mask.
“I’ve never had a real job and never will,” continued Sarah
as she took a cheek-hollowing drag from her Marlboro 100.
“Just think of all the money Daddy wasted on my college
education, which I will never use. Another wonderful
sacrifice for the tobacco companies. My body is completely
in their hands. I wish this would have happened to me
sooner. Before long, I will be too weak to walk. I will be
in a wheelchair like you. I will have to lug an oxygen tank
around, just as you do, Mitzi. Then, even sitting up in a
wheelchair will be too much of a strain. I will become
permanently bedridden. I will be splattered with my own
blood, which I will cough up with increasing frequency. My
body will shrivel and waste away to nothing. I will lose
control of my bodily functions. My own family will be
unable to recognize me because of my skeletal appearance. I
will scream out in constant agony from the unbearable pain.
My lungs will disintegrate, bit by bit. I will probably
become delirious and lapse into a coma. Finally, my lungs
will collapse and I will die. And, when they open up my
dead body, I hope people will gag and pass out at the sight
of my cancer-ravaged lungs. I hope they will say that they
have never seen anything more nauseating. I hope they will
say that they can’t believe I lived as long as I did. And,
most of all, I hope everyone will say, ‘She has nobody to
blame but herself, she knew exactly what she was doing.’
Oh, Mitzi, here I am, standing before you, with cancer in
my lungs. I actually did it. I am so happy. Now, I must do
everything I can to make the cancer spread. I want it in
both lungs. I wish I could collapse and die this very
moment. I can’t wait to be a dead smoker…like Mommy.”
Sarah was on the verge of another orgasm.
Mitzi quickly lit up another Kool 100 and inhaled deeply.
She was now extremely aroused, also.
Sarah took a deep triple-pump as she finished off her
Marlboro 100. She said, “Let me have one of your Kools,
Mitzi. They smell so good.” Sarah lit up a Kool 100 and
inhaled deeply. She said, “God! I can really feel the
menthol in my throat and lungs. Maybe I should have been
smoking menthols all along. I would probably be dead
already. I have read that menthol numbs the throat and
lungs, making it easier to inhale more smoke, more deeply,
and that other chemicals in menthol cigarettes open up the
lungs, making it easier for the lungs to absorb tar, thus
increasing the chances for lung cancer. I want my daughter
to smoke these, assuming the baby is a girl, of course.
God, Mitzi, I can’t believe you don’t have lung cancer by
now. Still, I love the way your emphysema has incapacitated
you. Doesn’t it feel good to know that, because of your
smoking, you will never walk again or do any of the things
a normal person should be able to do? Doesn’t it excite you
to know that you will never get any better, but will only
get gradually worse, until you die? Aren’t you glad that
your lung capacity will diminish, day by day, until you
asphyxiate yourself?”
Mitzi dragged deeply on her Kool 100 as she nodded in
agreement.
“We’re a couple of lucky girls, Mitzi,” said Sarah. “Soon,
we will achieve the ultimate in smoking. Soon, we will both
be dead smokers.”
Sarah, now very close to orgasm, saw that Mitzi was in a
similar state. She inhaled a deep drag from her cigarette,
leaned over and kissed Mitzi on the mouth. She exhaled all
of the smoke from her cancerous lungs deep into Mitzi’s
mouth. Mitzi took it in gratefully. “Maybe I can blow some
of my cancer into your lungs,” said Sarah. “If I could wish
lung cancer on any person, besides myself, it would be you,
Mitzi.” She started rubbing Mitzi’s nipples. Mitzi, in her
weakened state, did her best to return the favor. They
began deeply kissing each other and fingering each other’s
pussies. Within moments, each of the nearly dead smokers
exploded in a thundering orgasm. With satisfied smiles on
their faces, they took a couple of long, cheek-hollowing
drags from their Kool 100s and inhaled deeply, savoring the
cool, fresh smoke in their ruined lungs.
Suddenly, Mitzi started choking and gasping for air.
Apparently the physical exertion of her orgasm had been too
much for her. She struggled to reach her oxygen mask, which
she had set aside, while Sarah just watched. The mask was
inches from her fingertips but she couldn’t seem to reach
it. She was really struggling to catch her breath. Her face
was beginning to turn blue as she lunged forward and
grabbed the mask. Sarah took a deep drag from her cigarette
and felt a moistness in her crotch as she watched Mitzi
struggle. Mitzi, on the verge of passing out, lifted the
mask to her face. But before covering her face, she took a
long, deep drag from her cigarette and inhaled with all the
strength she had left. Finally, she placed the mask over
her face and breathed in fresh oxygen.
Sarah said, “You know I would have gotten the mask for you,
if you had really needed it. I mean, I don’t want you to
die before I do. It’s just that I get so turned on watching
you struggle like that. I know you understand.”
Mitzi nodded as she continued to breathe through her oxygen
mask. Slowly, she got back what little breath she could.
She could only breathe with short, shallow breaths. There
was hardly an air sac left working in Mitzi’s dark and
brittle lungs.
Sarah said, “I’m going to my room now to wait for Daddy to
get home. While I’m waiting I’ll feed my tumor a couple of
packs of fresh tar.”
“Remember,” said Mitzi in a hoarse whisper, “you’re …
(wheeze) … smoking … (cough) … for two … (hack) …
now.” She took another drag from her Kool Super Long and
placed the oxygen mask over her face.
“Yes, I must smoke more for my baby’s sake,” said Sarah as
she double-pumped what was left of her cigarette. “I will
do nothing but smoke from now until I die.”
Sarah went to her room and opened a fresh pack of Marlboro
Black 100s, the ultra-high tar cigarettes from Philip
Morris’ Division F. “I’ll be smoking more of these from now
on,” she thought. She lit up, inhaled deeply, and let the
cigarette dangle from her lips as she undressed. She stood
in front of her mirror, nude, feeling her chest, imagining
she could see the tumor in her lung. Then she ran her hands
over her abdomen. “My baby needs smoke,” she said to
herself. She lay down on her bed and chain-smoked one
Marlboro Black after another until she heard Mark’s car.
She had finished off two full packs in a little over two
hours.
Mark walked into the house carrying a large package. He saw
Mitzi in her wheelchair, sucking deeply on the filter of
another Kool 100. As he kissed her, he inhaled deeply and
tried to suck the smoke out of her lungs and into his own.
“Ahh. I love those welcome home kisses.” He said. Where’s
Sarah?”
Mitzi pointed to Sarah’s room as she inhaled another
lungful of mentholated smoke.
Mark knocked on Sarah’s door. “Come in,” she said.
Mark walked into Sarah’s room and set a large package on
the floor. “Happy birthday, Baby,” he said, smiling. “I
brought you a little present.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” said Sarah as she lit up a fresh
cigarette. There was a faraway look in her eyes.
“Well, open it up,” he said. “I found another supply of
Marlboro Gold 100s. I got you a whole case.”
“Thanks,” said Sarah, seeming not to hear what Mark had
said. “Daddy…I have something to tell you.”
Mark said, “Say, didn’t you see Dr. Richards this morning?”
Sarah nodded and took a deep drag from her cigarette.
“Daddy…I…” Sarah was having a hard time getting her
words out. Her eyes were glistening.
Mark saw a look he had never seen on Sarah’s face before.
Suddenly, he felt a huge cramp in the pit of his stomach.
There was an immediate swelling in his groin. He put his
hand over Sarah’s lips. With a lump in his throat he said,
“My baby has…lung cancer…doesn’t she?”
With tears streaming from her eyes Sarah nodded.
“My little girl is going to die of lung cancer, isn’t she?”
Sarah, now blubbering with emotion, broke into a big smile
and nodded again.
Mark now had the biggest, most intense erection he had ever
felt. He walked over and shut Sarah’s door. Mitzi smiled
knowingly as she watched the door shut.
Mark embraced Sarah and asked, “Which lung is it in?”
In a choking voice Sarah said, “The right one…Mommy’s
lung.”
Mark placed his mouth over Sarah’s and kissed her deeply.
He had never been so aroused in his life. He had never
beheld a sexier woman. “How long did the doctor give you?”
he asked.
With one hand inside her panties Sarah said, “Six months to
a year.”
Mark embraced Sarah more tightly and kissed her even more
deeply. “I wish you would collapse and die in my arms this
very moment,” he said.
Sarah inhaled deeply from her cigarette and said, “So do I,
Daddy. So do I.”
Scarcely another word was spoken between the two the rest
of the night. Words would not be needed.
Mitzi knew it would be early morning before Mark would
emerge from Sarah’s room. She knew Mark and Sarah shared a
special bond rarely known between father and daughter. She
knew this was a moment that only Mark and Sarah could fully
appreciate and fully understand. She moved her electric
wheelchair into the kitchen and retrieved a fresh carton of
Kool 100s. She took her cigarettes back to her room and
turned on her television. She opened up a fresh pack and
settled in for a long night of smoking. As she lit up a
fresh cigarette she thought to herself that she would give
anything in the world if, for at least this night, she
could trade places with Sarah. As she dragged deeply on her
cigarette, she lovingly patted the fresh carton in her lap
and thought, “Well, at least I’ve got the next best thing.”