Sarah woke up coughing. There was nothing unusual about
that. She had started out most of the mornings of her
twenty-two year life with a heavy coughing spell. It would
be highly unusual for Sarah to wake up without coughing.
Her smoker’s cough had gotten steadily worse over the
years. At three, when she had just reached the pack-a-day
milestone, she had a cute little cough that consisted of a
series of short hacking sounds. Her father, Mark, would
wake up in ecstasy each morning. His wife, Lori, would
start out the day with her well-developed deep, gurgly
hacking spell, as her lungs tried to expunge themselves of
the previous day’s stash of tar and nicotine. Then, little
Sarah would chime in with her lilting cough from her
bedroom down the hall. Mark didn’t need an alarm clock.
This was better than hearing robins chirping in the
morning. As he began to feel his first erection of the day,
he knew it would be only moments before the aroma of fresh
cigarette smoke would drift into his nostrils. The only
question was–which one would stop coughing and light up
first, Lori or Sarah?
By the age of eight, Sarah had surpassed the
two-pack-per-day threshold. Her morning cough had become
noticeably deeper, but was still the cough of a little
girl. It was about this time that Sarah started waking up
one or two times in the middle of the night with coughing
spells. She would often join her mother in the kitchen for
a late-night cigarette break. Both Lori and Sarah had found
that chain-smoking two or three cigarettes with very deep
inhales was the best way to stop the coughing. It was
during these late-night sessions that Lori and Sarah had
many heart-to-heart talks. Lori often spoke with regret of
the fact that she had not started smoking as early in life
as Sarah. She had not tried her first cigarette until the
age of nine. She was sorry that she had not been able to
experience what little Sarah was going through. She wanted
to know the feeling of never having had pink, healthy,
smoke-free lungs. She watched with envy as she observed
Sarah playing with her friends and being unable to keep up
with them as they ran down the street. She would actually
become moist as she listened to Sarah wheezing after
climbing the stairs in their home. She felt she had missed
out on the best smoking years of her life, the years when
her smoking would have done the most damage to her lungs.
Lori and Mark had determined long ago that their daughter
would not suffer such a fate.
By the tender age of thirteen, Sarah was smoking an
incredible three packs of full-strength Marlboro Gold 100s
per day, a level many lifelong smokers never reach. Her
cough had become much more frequent and had acquired a
gurgling, phlegmy quality. Normal sleep patterns had become
a thing of the past for Sarah. Both she and her mother now
woke up several times throughout the night to suck down
large doses of their life-giving nicotine before going back
to bed for an hour or two of zombie-like sleep before the
next coughing spell. Something else had started to happen
to Sarah around this time. She had reached puberty and had
started to become sexually aroused by her own smoking. She
had quickly learned to satisfy herself sexually while
smoking. She found that the more she smoked, the more
sexually aroused she would become. And, the more aroused
she became, the more she wanted to smoke, and the more
deeply she would inhale. What a wonderfully vicious cycle
to be caught up in! Like mother, like daughter! Sarah was a
chip off the old lung!
Sarah graduated from high school at about the same time she
graduated to four packs per day. Her morning coughing
spells had become a ritual she actually looked forward to.
She knew that each gurgly, rib-rattling cough was her
lungs’ futile attempt to undo the damage that Sarah had
worked so hard to cause. It was their only way of fighting
back in the war Sarah was waging against them, a war in
which they were hopelessly outmanned. Sarah had now
actually started to become sexually aroused by her own
coughing. Each cough made her want to smoke more to replace
the minute quantities of tar and nicotine which were
coughed up in her phlegm. She would frequently start to
masturbate in bed while still coughing, before even having
a chance to light up. It was about this time that Sarah had
started to become obsessed by thoughts of destroying her
own lungs. Smoking had ceased to be just a habit for her;
it had become a way of life. Coughing aroused her. Becoming
winded after the slightest physical exertion aroused her.
Even her yellowing teeth and the constant reeking smell in
her hair and clothing aroused her. She wished that she
could somehow redirect her own breath back into her face so
she could smell her own smoker’s breath. Few things aroused
her like the hot smell of nicotine on a smoker’s breath.
All of the harmful side-effects of smoking, considered
negative by most people, not only failed to deter Sarah
from smoking, they aroused her intensely and made her want
to smoke more. It was only natural, then, by extending
Sarah’s reasoning to its natural conclusion, that the
ultimate harmful side-effect of smoking would arouse her
beyond all reason.
Sarah had started to fantasize about filling her lungs so
full of smoke that they could no longer function. She
dreamed of packing so much tar into her lungs that every
one of her millions of tiny air sacs would be clogged to
the point of being useless. The thought of cancer growing
in her lungs was enough to send Sarah into an orgasmic
frenzy. She spent countless hours in her dorm room at
college smoking and masturbating and fantasizing about ways
she could speed up the total destruction of her hated enemy
lungs.
Sometimes, fate has a way of intervening. When Sarah first
heard of her mother’s lung cancer in a phone call from her
father, her reaction was not one that even she would have
expected. She should have broken down crying. She should
have shown some sort of shock. Instead, she became
instantly aroused and slipped her hand down into her
panties and started fingering her pussy. When Mark, whose
dick was already rock-hard from describing Lori’s
condition, heard the familiar flick of Sarah’s lighter over
the phone, he immediately started jacking himself off. He
had secretly hoped Sarah would react this way. His dreams
were answered when he heard Sarah say, “Oh, Daddy! Mommy is
so lucky. I know this is what she wanted. This is not
something to be sad about. It is something to rejoice.”
“I know, baby,” said Mark. “I feel the same way. This is
the way your mother wanted to go out. She looks very happy
and very peaceful right now.”
Sarah tried to spend as much time as she could with her
mother during Lori’s final weeks. Lori had become a virtual
smoking machine, smoking non-stop, usually smoking four
cigarettes at a time. She was smoking a full carton per day
at this point. She appeared to be in ecstasy, despite the
painful physical effects of the cancer. Sarah became
convinced that the ecstasy of Lori’s constant smoking far
outweighed the physical pain she was going through. She
became more obsessed than ever with destroying her own
lungs. She wanted to be just like her mother.
Sarah watched in envy as Lori’s wheezing lungs expanded and
contracted with each drag and exhale. Sarah began to envy
her mother’s lungs. Lori had succeeded in destroying them
after thirty-two years of smoking three packs per day of
high-tar Marlboro Reds, Lori’s beloved Reds. Lori had
requested that she be buried with a fresh pack clutched in
her hand. Sarah said, “Mom, you may envy me for my early
smoking years, but I would give anything to be in your
place right now. I would give anything to have your lungs.”
A light bulb went on in Sarah’s head. An idea was starting
to form. It was a crazy idea. Even Sarah thought it was
crazy at first. But the idea wouldn’t go away.
On this morning, Sarah’s coughing was worse than usual.
Each hack came from deep within her dark, brittle lungs.
Thick, brown-speckled phlegm was coming up with each
painful cough. This spell had already lasted longer than
most of Sarah’s previous spells. It was Sarah’s first
morning waking up in her own bed after leaving the
hospital. Her crazy plan had come to fruition. Sarah had
been implanted with one of her dead mother’s lungs. It was
the less damaged of the two lungs. The lung had developed
cancer while still residing in Lori’s glorious smoke-filled
chest, but Dr. Richards had been able to cut the cancer
out. He had estimated that it would only be a matter of
time before cancer returned to the lung. Sarah was
determined to make that time as short as possible. To make
room for Lori’s lung, one of Sarah’s lungs had been
removed. Much to her surprise, and extreme gratification,
Dr. Richards had discovered emphysema in Sarah’s twenty-two
year old lungs. In a normal case the emphysema would have
been detected much sooner. But Sarah had developed a wheeze
at such an early age, and the wheeze had grown worse so
gradually over time, that the heavy wheezing she exhibited
at the age of twenty-two had not seemed out of the
ordinary. Sarah had always gotten winded quite easily, even
on the kindergarten playground. Therefore, her inability to
climb even a single flight of stairs without stopping to
clutch at her chest did not send any warning signals to her
head. Thus, it came as a welcome bonus to Sarah when she
was told that she was well on her way to destroying her own
lungs, even without the help of her mother’s recycled lung.
Since Lori’s lung had been transplanted into Sarah’s chest,
Sarah’s coughing had become immediately and noticeably
worse. This, of course, aroused Sarah beyond description.
She was so moist, that she began to thrust her finger in
and out of her pussy, even as her deep, gurgling hacking
continued. She reached over to her nightstand for her
cigarettes. In the process her hand accidentally knocked
over the mountain of cigarette butts piled up in her
“ashtray”. Sarah’s ashtray was actually one half of her own
discarded, emphysema-filled lung. The other half was on the
nightstand on the other side of her bed. She had had her
lung made into a pair of matching ashtrays. The sight of
the scattered butts aroused Sarah even more. Each filter
was stained dark brown, indicative of the staining taking
place in her own lungs. Each filter was almost completely
flattened out, indicative of the deep drags taken by Sarah
as she reached the end of each cigarette.
Sarah was so aroused that she took her two lung-trays and
dumped their contents all over herself and her bed. She
then placed a lung half over each of her breasts and began
rubbing them gently back and forth. The brittle ridges of
the dead lung tissue rubbing against Sarah’s erect nipples
caused her to shudder with delight. She started running her
hands through the scattered tar-stained cigarette butts.
She was ready to cum. She quickly reached over and grabbed
her cigarettes and shook one loose. She placed the firm,
white filter between her moist lips and grabbed her
lighter. She flicked the flame to life and held it near the
end of her cigarette. Her cheeks collapsed as she dragged
heavily on her nicotine lover. Without removing the
cigarette from her lips she inhaled deeply. She felt the
thick smoke rushing into her craving lungs. Her lungs
expanded with a heavy wheezing sound, like two corroded
balloons, as they filled to their maximum, though greatly
diminished, capacity with the deadly, euphoric smoke from
Sarah’s cigarette.
As Sarah felt the smoke working its way into her badly
damaged alveoli, she began her second drag. She inhaled
deeply enough so that the smoke from the second drag would
force the smoke from the first drag even deeper, thus
preventing any chance of the first drag escaping her lungs.
Then, just for good measure, she took a third drag, inhaled
more deeply than the first two, which Sarah fervently hoped
would prevent any smoke from the first two drags escaping
the clutches of her clogged air passages. She then held her
breath for as long as she could. One of Sarah’s fondest
wishes was that no smoke would ever escape her lungs. She
only exhaled when she was on the verge of passing out. And,
when she did exhale, it was very slowly and carefully, so
that almost no visible smoke escaped her lungs.
As Sarah realized that all of the smoke from the enormous
triple-drag she had just completed was now a permanent part
of her slowly dying lungs, as she delighted in the fact
that her lungs, at this moment, were as healthy as they
were ever going to be, that they would only get worse from
this point on, her body exploded in orgasmic ecstasy. Her
body continued to shudder as Sarah continued to rub
herself. She continued to drag on her cigarette until
nothing but a dark brown, flattened out filter was left.
She removed the butt from her mouth and added it to the
pile in her bed. With a satisfied look on her face she
looked through her window and saw the sun starting to rise.
In the next room she could hear Mitzi beginning her morning
coughing ritual. She knew her father was fully erect and
this somehow pleased her. She knew that everything was
right with the world. She realized her own coughing had
stopped. She thought to herself, “It looks like it’s going
to be a beautiful day. I think I’ll get with Mitzi and see
if she wants to share an oxygen tank and a carton of
cigarettes.”