Sarah’s chest ached as she struggled to get out of bed on
the morning of her twenty-third birthday. The sudden motion
of her body jarred something loose deep within her nearly
ruined lungs. She started coughing. It was a deep,
rib-jarring cough as Sarah’s lungs struggled valiantly to
purge themselves of the thick, tarry deposits left by
Sarah’s lifetime of heavy smoking. With each hacking cough
Sarah felt a twinge of pain shoot through her chest. The
coughing was nothing new. Sarah had started each morning
she could remember with a coughing spell. How well she
remembered waking up as a child to the sound of her
mother’s deep, gurgly smoker’s cough and joining in with
her own lilting, childlike cough. How fondly she remembered
joining her mother in the kitchen for their first deeply
inhaled cigarettes of the day as their coughs slowly
settled back into their tar-coated chests. What wonderful
memories those were for Sarah. How she looked forward to
her morning coughing spells. Over the years her cough had
grown deeper and more intense. Each cough now seemed to
grip Sarah’s body and shake it violently from the inside
out. Sarah thought that her own coughing was now much worse
than her mother’s had ever been. Even in the end, when her
mother lay dying of lung cancer, her coughing spells had
not seemed to be as bad as Sarah’s had become. Sarah
reached for her cigarettes as her deep, heavy coughing
continued.
Sarah’s lungs were doing their job to the best of their
ability. They were trying to tell Sarah, “Enough is
enough!” The coughing was nothing new, but the pain was.
Only recently had Sarah begun to feel a small stabbing pain
with each body-shaking cough. This was something that
excited Sarah tremendously. The more her lungs tried to
tell her that she should stop smoking, the more she wanted
to smoke. The more difficulty Sarah had breathing, the more
deeply she inhaled smoke into her lungs. The more pain she
felt in her chest, the more sexually aroused she became.
With a shaking hand she lit her cigarette and inhaled thick
smoke deep into her lungs. She held it there, hoping never
to release it.
Sarah was a frazzled ball of nerves. She had not slept a
wink. She had spent the entire night smoking and
masturbating while thinking of Dr. Richards’ message on her
answering machine. He had important news for her. There was
only one thing Sarah wanted to hear from her good doctor.
Sarah had wanted black lungs for as long as she could
remember. She remembered becoming immensely excited when,
as a toddler smoking a pack of cigarettes per day, her
mother had explained to her what happened to her young
lungs every time she inhaled smoke into them. She
remembered the special feeling she got when she thought of
the secret “gift” she carried around in her lungs at all
times. She remembered feeling sorry for her little friends
who did not carry tar around in their lungs and did not
realize what they were missing out on. She remembered
feeling envious when her mother explained how much blacker
her lungs were than Sarah’s because she had inhaled so much
more tar into them over a much longer period of time. Sarah
wanted more than anything to have lungs like her mother’s.
Over the years this wish developed into what could more
accurately be described as an obsession. Sarah learned to
inhale smoke so deeply into her lungs, and hold it in for
so long, that she could smoke an entire cigarette without
producing a visible exhale. She loved the thought of her
inhaled tar becoming a permanent part of her lungs. She
frequently stood naked in front of her mirror, inhaling
smoke into her lungs and imagining that she could see the
inside of her chest. She loved the thought of her lungs
becoming blacker and blacker with each deeply inhaled drag.
By the time she reached sexual maturity, it was only
natural that Sarah’s obsession would become her primary
sexual stimulus. Sarah took to smoking and masturbating
like a fish takes to water. Each new sign of lung damage
drove Sarah to new heights of sexual arousal. There was
nothing she loved more than detecting a harsher, deeper
tone to her morning cough or becoming quickly winded while
attempting to climb stairs. Each new debilitation, no
matter how small drove Sarah wild with passion and prompted
her to smoke even more.
When Sarah’s mother developed lung cancer, Sarah knew what
her own destiny was. The thought of developing lung cancer
had always inexplicably excited Sarah. Since she had been
old enough to understand such things she had resigned
herself to the fact that she would one day die of lung
cancer or emphysema or some other smoking-related disease.
In fact, Sarah would not want it any other way. Her own
self-image, in fact her entire sense of self, consisted of
one word and one word only. That word was “smoker”. Sarah
thought of herself as a smoker first and a woman second. In
order to enhance her own self-image as a woman, she would
have to first enhance her own self-image as a smoker. In
Sarah’s mind that meant smoking more and developing blacker
lungs.
As Sarah watched her mother dying of lung cancer, as she
saw the incredible joy and comfort that smoking gave her
mother in her final days, Sarah knew what she wanted more
than anything else. She wanted lungs just like her
mother’s. She wanted lung cancer.
Sarah suspected that her father felt the same way, even
though he had always been afraid to express his feelings to
Sarah. Sarah, overwhelmed with emotion, told her feelings
to her father on the day after her mother’s funeral. She
told Mark that she would never be completely fulfilled
until she had lungs like her mother’s. She simply couldn’t
wait for the damage that twenty or thirty more years of
heavy smoking would do to her lungs. She wanted the heavily
damaged, black lungs of a thirty-two year, three pack per
day smoker immediately. She convinced Mark to allow her to
have one of Lori’s lungs implanted into her own chest. Mark
could not have been happier. He had always hoped Sarah
would have such feelings about her lungs, but had never
known how to bring up the subject. Since Sarah’s operation
Mark and Sarah had been closer than ever.
Sarah had never been happier, but she would never feel
complete fulfillment as a smoker, or as a woman, until she
could experience the ultimate in lung damage. She became
totally obsessed by the destruction of her own lungs. The
fact that Sarah’s goal would mean the end of her life was
of little consequence to Sarah or Mark. The overpowering
sexual arousal that each felt at the thought of Sarah’s
slow and painful demise from lung cancer far outweighed any
sadness her death would bring. Father and daughter were
totally consumed by their mutual fetish. Satisfying the
fetish meant everything to them. Sarah could not wait for
the ultimate reward that her smoking could bestow upon her.
She would never feel like a complete woman until she knew
that cancer was spreading through her lungs. Mark
anticipated the joy he would feel as his daughter took her
last, gasping breath and died of lung cancer in his arms.
Sarah hoped today would be the day she had been dreaming
of. It would be the best birthday ever if she could hear
the news she wanted to hear. She nervously showered and
dressed. She tucked three fresh packs of Marlboro Gold 100s
into her purse before leaving her house. She had only a
limited supply of Marlboro Golds left. Her remaining
cartons were stored in deep freeze in her basement. She
planned on rationing them wisely. Sarah’s Marlboro 100s had
been her lifelong companion and she felt as if she may need
the security they would provide today. She drove to Dr.
Richards’ office, chain-smoking all the way.
Sarah arrived at the doctor’s office at 8:00 am. The office
would not open until 9:00. She stood outside the door
smoking one Marlboro Gold after another. She could hardly
stand the anticipation.
When Dr. Richards finally arrived he greeted Sarah at the
door. He noticed a small mound of cigarette butts at her
feet. “Sarah! How long have you been here?” he asked.
“About an hour,” said Sarah, dragging deeply on her
cigarette. “I couldn’t wait around the house. I was too
nervous. What’s the big news you have for me, Doc?”
“We’ll get to that,” the doctor said. “Come in and relax
for a moment.”
Sarah took another long drag from her cigarette and walked
into the doctor’s office. “I can’t relax,” she said.
“What’s the news?”
Dr. Richards had a sly grin on his face. He pulled a binder
out of his desk and started thumbing through it. “Here are
all your chest x-rays, Sarah,” he said. “How I love looking
through these. Just look at how your lungs have steadily
deteriorated. Rarely have I seen such unhealthy lungs in a
living person, and certainly never in a person your age.
Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to know all my smoking hasn’t been for
nothing,” said Sarah. She felt a cough coming on and tried
to suppress it. It started as a rumbling tickle deep within
her blackened lungs and exploded in a hoarse, raspy series
of coughs. With each cough Sarah felt the sharp, stabbing
pain she had felt earlier. She placed her hand to her sore
and tender crotch and held it there. She clamped her thighs
around her hand and stood in a semi-crouching position. She
tried to inhale more smoke deep into her lungs as her
coughing continued.
Dr. Richards felt his penis expanding as he listened to
Sarah’s hacking. “Your cough is like music to my ears,
Sarah,” he said. “It’s sounding worse every day. Now, why
don’t you sit down and try to relax?”
“I don’t want to sit down,” said Sarah, lighting a fresh
cigarette from the glowing butt between her fingers.
“OK, suit yourself,” said the doctor, adjusting his pants.
“Sarah…as you know…I have something to tell you.
Actually…I have good news and bad news. Which do you want
to hear first?”
“Give me the good news, Doc. I can’t wait any longer.”
Sarah nervously lit up a second cigarette and started
dragging on both simultaneously. She triple-pumped the two
cigarettes and held all of the smoke deep in her lungs.
After holding the smoke for several seconds, she took
another long and deep triple-pump. She inhaled deeply and
held all of the smoke in her lungs. She wanted to make sure
her lungs were filled to the limit with smoke when she
heard the doctor’s news.
“Well, as you know, I’ve been probing your lungs carefully
for several months. There have been a few spots, in
particular, I have been paying close attention to. Well, I
just got the results of your last probe. Sarah…one of the
spots…on your right lung…it’s a tumor.”
Sarah stared at her cigarettes. She slowly placed them
between her lips, took an exceptionally long, slow drag,
and inhaled very deeply. She felt the warm, comfortable
sensation of the smoke in her lungs for maybe the
ten-millionth time in her smoke-filled life. In a dry,
barely audible whisper she said, “A tumor?”
“Yes, Sarah…it’s malignant. Without treatment…you’ll be
dead…in six to eight months…a year at the most.”
Every conceivable emotion was running through Sarah’s head.
She had dreamed of this moment so often, she had gone over
the scene in her head so many times, it seemed as if she
were experiencing deja vu. Sarah’s crowning moment had
finally arrived and she suddenly realized that all of the
dreaming, all of the massive quantities of tar she had
deposited into her lungs, had not prepared her in the least
for the impact with which her doctor’s words would hit her.
She stared ahead blankly.
“Sarah, are you listening?” asked the doctor. “Sarah, you
have lung cancer!”
Sarah’s face turned white. Her knees buckled as she
collapsed in a heap. Dr. Richards reached out to help her
up, but she waved him away. “I’m OK,” she whispered,
wheezing heavily. She struggled to one knee and clutched at
her chest. She seemed to be having trouble catching her
breath. She looked up at Dr. Richards. Tears were streaming
down her face.
“Are you all right, Sarah?” asked the doctor. His erection
was immense.
Sarah slowly stood up. “Thank you. Thank you, so much,” she
cried, still struggling to catch her breath. Her tears were
tears of joy. “You have made me so happy, Dr. Richards.”
She suddenly felt a warm, tingly sensation throughout her
body. She was becoming quickly and totally aroused. She
started moaning and squirming. Sarah had become so aroused
that she was close to climaxing. She was having what could
only be described as a spontaneous orgasm. She held out her
arms, beckoning to Dr. Richards.
The doctor embraced Sarah. She wrapped her arms tightly
around him and started kissing him deeply on the mouth. Dr.
Richards tasted the fresh nicotine in her potent smoker’s
breath and pressed his body tightly against hers. Sarah
started grinding her body against the doctor’s and almost
immediately felt the explosion of a very intense orgasm.
The doctor, who had not even had a chance to undress, felt
his semen explode inside his boxer shorts. As he felt the
hot fluid running down his thigh, Sarah continued grinding
her body against his. She came again and again. She had
never been so turned on. She had never felt sexier. She had
never felt more like a woman.
Slowly, gradually, Sarah started to calm down. She sat down
on a chair, seemingly exhausted. Everything seemed surreal
to her. She said, “Tell me I’m not dreaming, Doc. Repeat
what you told me before.”
“It’s all true, Sarah,” said the doctor. “This is no dream.
You have terminal lung cancer.”
Sarah felt a shudder run through her entire body. She
squirmed again as a low moan slowly emanated from deep
within her cancer-stricken lungs.
“Barring a miracle, you are going to die from lung cancer,”
said Dr. Richards. He felt his erection returning.
“Ohhhh,” Sarah moaned again. “You know how I feel about
miracles, Dr. Richards. I don’t want any extraordinary
measures taken to keep me alive. If I start to have trouble
breathing, I’ll go on oxygen, but that’s the extent of it.
God, I love the idea of being confined to a wheelchair, too
weak to walk, toting an oxygen tank around and smoking
cigarettes. Mitzi and I will have great fun together. But,
if I go into a coma, I don’t want to be put on life
support. I don’t even want any painkillers. I need to
experience everything.” Sarah was rubbing herself and
squirming in her seat.
“Well, you probably know all the symptoms, even better than
I do,” said the doctor. “As you know, the pain will become
quite unbearable. You will eventually start coughing up
blood and bits of decaying lung matter.”
“Yes, I know,” said Sarah, still squirming in her chair and
close to climaxing again.
“I want to be sure you know what to expect, Sarah,” said
Dr. Richards. “I want you to be fully prepared as you enter
this most wonderful phase of your life.”
“Thank you, Dr. Richards,” said Sarah. “I can’t thank you
enough. I know exactly what to expect. I am looking forward
to every moment I have left. This is everything I imagined
it would be.” Once again, tears of joy started running down
Sarah’s cheeks.
“You know,” said the doctor, “I always get the most
incredible erection when I have to inform a female patient
of mine that she has lung cancer. It is very difficult for
me to feign sadness in my moment of excitement. You are the
first patient who has ever shared my joy.”
“You can’t possibly know the joy I feel at this moment,”
said Sarah. “I have ruined my lungs in only twenty-three
short years. I can finally say I have smoked enough. I can
finally call myself a real smoker. I have fulfilled my
destiny. This is the best birthday I have ever had.”
Memories started rushing into Sarah’s head. She remembered
the day, twenty years ago to the day, when she had first
become a pack-a-day smoker. She remembered her first carton
of Marlboro Gold 100s. How proud she had been to set that
carton on the table next to her little bed. She remembered
smoking in school and on the school bus. She tried to
remember the last time she had slept through the night
without a coughing spell, but could not. Every happy moment
in Sarah’s life had been either directly or indirectly
related to her smoking. “I am so happy,” she said, still
crying.
“I hope you will still feel that way after I tell you the
rest of my news, Sarah,” said Dr. Richards.
“Lay it on me, Doc,” she said. “Nothing you can say can
spoil this day for me now.” She extracted a fresh Marlboro
100 from her pack and lit up with a cheek-hollowing drag.
With the smoke from her first drag exiting her nostrils,
she took a second, longer and deeper drag. The smoke felt
more wonderful than usual as she held it deep in her ruined
lungs.
Looking Sarah straight in the eyes, the doctor said calmly,
“Sarah…you’re pregnant.”
Sarah coughed out the smoke she had hoped to retain forever
in her lungs. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. She
continued coughing. She could tell this would be a major
coughing spell. With a look of astonished disbelief, she
mouthed the question, “What?”, to Dr. Richards and kept on
coughing.
He said, “There’s no mistake, Sarah. I’ve tested you twice.
You’re definitely pregnant. It’s hard to say exactly how
far along you are since you haven’t had regular periods for
a while. But, I would estimate you’re about two months
along.”
Sarah shook her head and raised her index finger as if
trying to make a point. Once again, words failed her as her
deep, hacking cough continued.
Dr. Richards shifted in his seat to adjust his once-again
fully erect penis. As he listened to the musical sound of
Sarah’s coughing, he thought to himself, “Now is probably
not the best time to tell her about the fertility drugs I
have been secretly giving her.” With a silly grin on his
face, he sat back in his chair and waited for Sarah to stop
coughing. He hoped it would be a long wait.
(to be continued)