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At about 6:30 that evening, an older woman of obviously continental European Spanish descent and a middle-aged funeral worker were led into the crypt area where the bodies of many different people were still being stored. Even since Saema’s first arrival at the coroner’s office, many other stiffs of all ages and backgrounds had arrived to be processed, autopsied, and prepared to be handed over to whomever was handling their final arrangements. In fact, in the drawer next to where Saema was being kept, a new Jane Doe had been brought in just an hour or so ago.
Saema’s neighbor was an unidentified female who appeared to be around 28-years-old, though as her identity had not been confirmed yet, this was purely a best guess. She was slightly tall at around 5’9”, had a slim, athletic build to her, long, brown hair, and pretty brown eyes. Jane Doe’s stiff body lay in a morgue drawer under clear plastic, much like Saema had at one time, her slender feet and long toes bared for all to see, a white toe-tag dangling from her right big toe, the nail of which was a dark purple color.
“Alright, Mrs. Vargas – that’s her,” the attendant said as he tilted his head towards Saema’s drawer. Mrs. Vargas took the girl’s toe tags in her hand and looked them over, then took some papers from her helper and read them as well, verifying that this body indeed matched who they were supposed to pick up. The funeral home had provided a black canvas body bag to transport Saema in to their parlor, but they wouldn’t bother to unwrap her from the sheet she had been stored in.
“Okay, Victor, let’s grab her and get her bagged,” she said, dryly, not one for much emotion. The man that was with her pulled the morgue tray out into the room and, grabbing her by her shoulders, with the worker from the coroner’s office grabbing her bare feet, they pulled her off of the slab and dropped her into the open bag on the stretcher. Victor zipped the bag up while Mrs. Vargas signed her name to the release papers from the morgue, and then the two began wheeling Saema’s corpse down a long series of hallways, out a set of double-doors, and to a waiting van.
It was lightly raining outside as Victor pulled open the van doors and, grabbing the head of the bag by a handle, dragged it onto the floor of the van. He proceeded to fold up the stretcher and put it to the side as his overseer got the van started and warmed up. Once done, he slammed the doors shut, checked to make sure they were locked, and hopped in the passenger seat. It would only take about 20 minutes to get to the funeral home from where they were, so the two just chatted lightly and listened to the radio on the journey to the parlor.
When the van pulled up, the rain made it so that they pulled in under the awning in the back of the funeral home. The weather had worsened during their brief drive, but some might have argued that the bleak weather was fitting for their jobs anyway. Victor, being the stocky man that he was, generally tended to be the one to handle the bodies and get them inside and on the slab, but he rather liked this. He wasn’t a necrophiliac or anything, but he did enjoy handling bodies (male, female, or whatever else, it didn’t matter to him), and he also knew that he was helping do something good anyway. So, as Mrs. Vargas went on inside to handle a few other things, he walked around to the back of the van, opened the doors, and grabbed the stretcher, reassembling it for use.
Victor grabbed at the foot end of the body bag and pulled it along the carpeted floor of the van and off onto the gurney, where he dragged it into a balanced position. He then closed the van doors and pushed the gurney up a small ramp and through an open door, into the back area of the funeral parlor. In this small hallway there were several rooms that opened up from it, but he made an immediate right into a room with three examination and embalming tables as it was here that Saema’s body would be prepared.
The gurney with Saema’s bagged remains on it was brought to the embalming table at the far side of the room, where he pushed it to rest right next to it. He pushed a small lever on the gurney’s supports and then pulled up on the actual padding, lifting her up to where she was on the same level as the slab itself. With a quick pull of the bag, he dragged it from the stretcher to the cold white embalming table. Then, he unzipped her black body bag.
Saema’s body lay wrapped in the blue sheet she had been covered in at the morgue, the only thing visible her pale, bare feet. Victor stared at her for a moment and then took a knife and cut the twine that was wrapping the sheet around her head. As the twine cut away, he pulled the sheet back and down to her neckline, revealing her stunning face. The girl’s long brown hair lay silently with a few wisps over her face, her brown eyes glassy and staring at nothing, her soft lips parted gently. He tugged at the sheet and pulled it down past her breasts and to her waist, staring at the Y-incision from her autopsy. It was a shame when girls (or anyone, really) died this young, and the corpse on the slab had a great body to her. Whoever had been with her had been lucky.
The sheet was pulled the rest of the way down so that it was bunched up around her ankles and, with the cut of a knife, the twine there, too, fell away and he pulled the sheet completely off of her body. Then, much like the rolling efforts made to transfer her in the morgue, he put one hand around her waist, fingers brushing the trimmed hairs of her sex, and another around her shoulders and rolled her towards him. When she was in position, he let her lean against his pants as he pulled the black bag out from under her, then rolling her the other way to get it bayburt escort completely out from beneath her rear and off of the table. He let her flop back, her head bumping the hard, white porcelain of the slab, her toe tags swinging wildly.
By the time he had finished laying her out on the slab, the older woman entered the room. She was Emile Vargas, co-owner of the mortuary under her aging father. Mr. Vargas was now 83-years-old and mostly out of the business, so he left the daily operation to his daughter to manage. She walked in and saw Saema’s stark naked, toe-tagged corpse lying on the slab and Victor nearby.
Mrs. Vargas had a manilla-colored toe tag in her hand as she approached the slab.
“Will we be getting her ready tonight, ma’am?” the man asked, watching as she began to tie this new toe tag around the girl’s left big toe.
“No, I’ll be handling that tomorrow morning. Your brother’s in town, right? Why don’t you take the rest of the night off, Vick. I’ll be fine here,” she said, tying the string tight and then looking up at her.
“You sure?” he asked, though she soon nodded. “As you say. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early, okay?”
Victor nodded, a little surprised, but grateful. He walked out of the room and down the hall to get his stuff and then take off, leaving Emile alone with Saema’s corpse. She tossed a simple shroud over the girl’s sex and her breasts for a small amount of modesty and then took out her Galaxy S4 and swiped through her list of contacts to her favorites page, where she ***********ed one Miss Victoria Alvarez.
“H-hello?” the contralto voice on the other end answered, possibly after having been woken up from her off sleeping schedule due to her strange work hours lately.
“Remember that girl you told me about? The one you said was ‘really, really hot?’” Mrs. Vargas asked.
“Yeah, of course I remember. Why?”
“I’m looking at her right now. Interested?” she replied, coldly.
“I’ll be there in 30,” Victoria said, jumping out of bed and ending the call.
*********************************************************************
Ever since first handling Saema’s corpse, Vicky could not get the dead girl out of her head. She wasn’t really sure what was different about her as opposed to some of the other stiffs she had processed in her years with the coroner’s office, but for some reason, the strangled brunette had become an obsession these last few days.
When she was particularly horny, her mind kept being drawn to the girl’s stiff, dead corpse. She thought about her lying dead, pale, and stiff on the cold slab of the morgue freezer. She thought about her bare feet exposed to the room, toe tags dangling from her toes. She envisioned the girl’s autopsy, her being cut open and exposed to the room, her organs laid out, her body completely at the disposal of the technician handling the dissection. She imagined the girl’s brain being weighed, her body being stitched back up, and her organs being tossed in bags that would be buried with her later. She thought of her stinky, soiled asshole and giving her a good licking, and time and time again all of this got her off in the biggest way possible.
After throwing some clothes on quickly, she hopped in her Toyota and sped over to the funeral home, it actually taking her 6 minutes less to get there than she originally told her older friend over the phone. Obviously, she was excited and not messing around. When she pulled into the drive in the back, she saw that the back door was slightly ajar, as obviously Mrs. Vargas was expecting her.
“Took you long enough,” the older woman said dryly, with a smug little chuckle.
“Huh?” replied Vicky, lost in thought about what was to come. “Oh, well…Y-yeah.”
“Cat got your tongue, or is it something else?” the funeral director asked, walking back inside. Not far from the door on a small table outside the embalming room was a sealed box from the Coroner’s Office. Vicky didn’t have to ask what was in there, and Emile knew that she knew already.
“Morgue just came by a few minutes after I called you and dropped this off. Apparently, they forgot to give it to us when we were over there earlier,” she said. The box contained the viscera bags with the organs that had been removed completely during Saema’s autopsy. The Lead Pathologist had examined them himself one more time before signing off on the forms and having them sealed for good.
Vicky grabbed the box herself and entered the room on her right, stopping dead in her tracks as she realized that she would soon finally have an opportunity to do anything she wanted with the stunning girl lying on the slab with her waist and breasts covered with a mortuary sheet. Emile knew that her friend wanted to be alone with the girl for a good long while, and since the two could wash her corpse together when she was finished and share that little erotic bonding experience, she had no qualms with whatever Victoria had in mind to do. After all, the girl on the slab was dead and, at the end of the day, no one would ever know any different.
“I’ll go tend to some things. You two have fun,” she said, with a small laugh, closing the door behind her. Victoria was now alone in the cold, white room. The overhead lights were on, but she knew this was too bright for the mood she wanted. She walked over to the embalming table where Saema was laying and turned on an adjustable overhead lamp. Then, she returned to the door and switched off the main overhead lights. The room was now quite dark, though it was almost as if a spotlight was right over Saema and she was the star of the show. In Vicky’s erotic mind, at least, this was quite true.
Vicky set bilecik escort the box down on a wheeled cart next to Saema’s embalming table and then unfolded the top and opened it up. Inside, she could see the dark, slightly transparent plastic bags that the girl’s removed organs had been placed into. In this moment, she realized the power she had over this dead piece of beautiful meat, and she stared into the box and then longingly at the body on the table. She took some time to just revel in the sights, enjoying just looking over the girl’s luscious curves. With her right index finger, she reached out and touched at the line of clear surgical glue on Saema’s forehead. She thought about them sawing open her skull, taking the skull cap off, and removing her brain to be weighed and examined. Just thinking about this process as she ran her finger along the line of glue was starting to really turn her on.
She ran her finger over the girl’s eyes, along the bridge of her cute nose, and then allowed it to circle her cold, dry yet full lips. Vicky then leaned in and, with her wet tongue, licked from the bridge of Saema’s nose up to the ridge of surgical glue along her forehead. She then laved her tongue left and right, along the line of clear glue, tasting the exotic chemical flavor of it. It was odd, but she really liked the experience. She then broke away and instead began licking Saema’s lips, taking away some of the dryness. The girl tasted lightly of clinical antiseptic at this point, her mouth dry inside, a slight smell of very faint putrification able to be smelled coming from her mouth.
Suddenly, she bit down, hard, on Saema’s bottom lip – hard enough to break the skin and, had she been alive, draw a fair amount of blood. Pulling back, she ran a finger on the inside of the girl’s gums, stretching them again, pulling at the flesh and letting it snap back with an audible pop sound. She laughed to herself and then bit her top lip, tugging at it, hard enough to pull a small piece of skin off. She quickly just licked her lips, the skin coming onto her tongue and allowing her to taste it before she swallowed.
Vicky’s eyes wandered south, focusing on the girl’s curves that were obscured by the white shroud that had been draped over her midsection. Saema was well-built, appeared to have been mildly athletic, and cared about staying in shape. Her breasts were of a nice, average size, her hips curvy and feminine, and her skin tanned and soft to the touch. Having been dead for closing in on four days, and having been stored in a morgue freezer for quite some time, her skin had taken on a much more ashen pallor, but this did not make her at all unappealing to the investigator that was now drinking in the girl’s form.
Walking to the end of the mortuary slab, Victoria took a set of toe tags in hand and looked at them, allowing her fingers to brush against the cold flesh of Saema’s soles as she did. Then, she suddenly took a knee at the base of the table and stared at the lightly wrinkled soles of the girl’s feet. Placing her hands at the topsides of her feet, Vicky drew her head inwards so that she was right at the base of soft, pale feet. Pulling closer and bending Saema’s feet a bit, she pulled the cool soles so that they were right against her cheek, the base of the dead girl’s toes right at her nose. She brushed the toe tags dangling from the stiff’s right big toe aside and nestled her nose right between her big and second toe, inhaling deeply at the smell. Saema’s feet had a bit of an odor to them, smelling of toe cheese and a light, sweet odor of death. Her tongue darted out and began licking the soft flesh of her arch as she sniffed her feet, reveling in the sensual pleasure. She even paused to take her index finger and rub it back and forth between her toes, then sniffed the toejam deposited on her fingertip, and finally plucked the finger into her mouth to taste the girl’s feet for herself.
The taste of Saema’s feet was a huge enough turn-on that Vicky bent her right foot even further so that she was staring right at the chocolate-painted toenail of her big toe. Vicky stuck the tip of Saema’s toe up into her nostril and inhaled deeply for a moment before moving it so that its flesh was brushing against her own warm, parted lips. Her tongue flicked out and felt along the twine of the toe tags dangling yet from her toe before she drew the long, succulent digit within her mouth and began sucking on it like she might the cock of a guy she was dating. In and out…In and out…Victoria effectively was giving the dead chick a postmortem oral pedicure treatment.
She finally took the toe so deep into her throat that she emitted a gag reflex and had to stop, though she quickly wiped at her lips and laughed to herself. She wondered if this was something that Saema would have liked if she were alive, and, more to the point, whether Saema would have thought it was erotic to sleep with and enjoy the company of another woman. Vicky began planting kisses along the arches of the dead girl’s feet, starting with the right foot and then making sure to give attention to the left, moving on eventually to kiss the base and toe of each digit separately, left foot to right foot. The toe tags meanwhile would move and flap against the woman’s cheek, but Vicky paid little mind to this.
Victoria suddenly stood, walked to the middle of the table and, taking the dead woman’s hips and bosom in hand, rolled her rather forcefully so that she landed hard against the table on her stomach with a loud thud. Her feet now dangled off the end of the table, toe tags swaying with the air conditioning of the room, the woman’s long, brown hair falling somewhat to the side and revealing the soft flesh of her back burdur escort and ass.
The investigator ran her finger along the soft, smooth, pale flesh of Saema’s asscheeks and thought to herself that the girl was very shapely and had a lot to love. Parting the cheeks with her fingers, she put her nose right inside her asscrack, her nostril pressing against the dark, puckered anus and smelling the remaining shit that had yet to have been washed out of there. With her tongue, she started with Saema’s salty taint and began lapping her way inwards, slowly, up to the muscle of her asshole. The girl’s ass literally tasted of sweatiness and shit, but this turned Vicky on more than ever. She pierced the stiff’s anus with her tongue and began lapping at the inner walls of her rectum when all of the sudden the pressure being exerted on Saema’s gut and bowels caused her to let out a long, smelly fart right into Victoria’s face and open mouth. No sooner did Vicky have time to reflexively cough than a long, coiled turd emerged from Saema’s asshole and slipped right between Vicky’s lips, into her mouth, and on her tongue. Her eyes widened with great surprise and then…She swallowed. She wasn’t sure why she swallowed, and yet, she sucked on and swallowed the dead girl’s shit.
Pulling out from where she was, she forcefully rolled Saema back onto her back with a loud bump against the embalming table and then slipped her own feet out of their black flats. She pulled her green panties down to her ankles and kicked them off and over to where her shoes were and then slipped her black tights down and right off. She tried to pull Saema’s lips open but they kept resetting back to their original position.
“Come on, open your mouth, bitch,” she said, somewhat in an angry tone. Finally, she pulled very hard on her jaw until it finally slacked and remained in a gaping position. Hopping up on the slab above Saema, Vicky turned and got on tip-toes and sat down on the dead girl’s face, the upper part of her asscrack against her nose. She pulled her own asscheeks apart and farted as hard and loudly as she could right into her open mouth. As she did, a couple small chunks of mushy shit flew out and into the back of Saema’s mouth.
“Guess I had to go afterall,” she said. Her face scrunched up a bit suddenly and her cheeks turned red as she closed her eyes and began grunting and straining. Her puckered anus slowly opened up and a long, thick turd began to emerge. Much like soft-serve ice cream, Vicky’s shit landed in the back of Saema’s open mouth and then began to coil up as the girl kept forcing more and more out of her bowels. Her mouth was nearly full, the fecal matter coming out past her lips by the time Vicky was finally finished. She got up and hopped down from the table, yet she took Saema’s right middle and index fingers and stuck them up her own ass and used them to clean the shit out of there.
It was at that time that Mrs. Vargas decided to stop in and see what was going on.
“So, how are you two-…” she cut off. “Vicky! Did you…? Did you just shit in that girl’s mouth?” Emile seemed stunned. Vicky just kind of smiled wryly. “It seems your tastes get more and more extreme each time.”
“Is it a problem?” Victoria asked, calmly. She really didn’t want to get reported for this. Thinking on it, though, she realized this was an irrational fear as Mrs. Vargas had been the one allowing her to do this and likely would not want to lose her business and licenses (and face jail time potentially, as well as lawsuits from families) over this.
“No. Of course not. We’ll get her cleaned up and ready for transport,” Emile said, walking over to the table. “You’ll help, that’s for sure.”
*********************************************************************
Cleaning up Saema’s body took around an hour. Vicky and the older woman were meticulous in washing her body with rags, sponges, and antiseptic soaps, being sure to clean every orifice to remove any evidence of extra-curricular play that happened. Normally, this was something Mrs. Vargas or one of her assistants would have done as standard protocol on their own, but Emile knew that this was something her younger friend would enjoy and, frankly, after what Vicky had done to soil the corpse, she thought helping her clean was the least the girl could do.
“The girl’s family is mostly out East, right?” Vicky inquires as she set one of the rags down in a biohazard bin next to one of the sinks.
“Tomorrow we’ll be embalming her,” Emile replies, matter-of-factly. “I’ll get the family to confirm transit arrangements to Pennsylvania. It should be fairly straight-forward…At least, I hope,” she shrugs, snapping out a blue sheet and tossing it over the corpse’s midsection. Mrs. Vargas spends a moment tugging on the fabric to make sure it drapes over her genitals and pert breasts.
The investigator gathers up what few things she brought with her into her purse and smiles at Emile. “Thanks again, for this. She was…” her gaze diverts to the stiff’s feet and toe tags dangling off the end of the slab, “…Ummmm…Special.”
“Of course,” she replies as she follows Vicky out into the hallway, flicking the lights off as she does. The metal door to the embalming room is firmly shut and locked so that Saema’s corpse remains nice and chilled for the next few hours. If anyone had been observing what happened this night or any other night when Vicky visited the funeral home, there’d be no indication as to the details of the arrangement she and Mrs. Vargas had, nor Mrs. Vargas’s motivation for letting her ‘enjoy’ the clients as she did.
As Vicky got into her car and drove away, Emile locked the back door and turned the outside lights off. It was now into the witching hours, and she needed to get some sleep. After all, she and her assistants would have work to do before long and, undoubtedly, other clients would be arriving before long.
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