Chapter 1

It was sort of a chaotic scene at the undertaker’s main processing station for the recently departed. In addition to a fire at an inner city motel for low-income people and a head-on collision between two tour buses on the east-west interstate, some gun-nut started popping off citizens with an “Assault” rifle that held a thirty round magazine and he had a bunch of them to send out death and destruction in every direction in less than three minutes and thirty seconds before an ordained minister with a carry permit waxed his ass with Colt .45 Automatic at a range of only fifteen feet. That single round lifted the shooter right out of his flip flops and he was deposited almost headless right under the “Orange Julius” counter in the middle of mall.

Sydney Blackthorn, the weekend manager at the undertaker’s head office called in all of his minions to work the steel tables to get the dead into some sort of transition phase for the showing prior to either burial or incineration.

There were almost twenty bodies from the fire, another twenty-five from the bus collision, and no less than eleven at the mall. All in all with those three calamities and the ordinary odd expiration of life, there were slightly over sixty bodies to process for the exit ceremony generally slated for execution within seventy two hours from the time of release by the county.

The breakdown of the bodies was typical in most demographics of that sort of spike in funeral arrangements. They were about fifty/fifty male and female and with minorities taking up about twenty percent of the total body count. Sydney was glad there were only about five bodies needing a “child’s” processing because in the long run those things were subsidized and they made a lot less profit on them than the regular ceremonies.

Juan Garcia, the cosmetician liked to work mostly with the younger female bodies and he saw that one of the ones from the tour bus was only about twenty years old and she was virtually unmarked by the terrible crash and not burned by the fire that had destroyed all most all the bodies on one of the buses with the highest amount of deaths.

It was a “Jane Doe” like quite a few of the bodies they had that weekend. He remembered she was Jane Doe #6 on her toe tag with the daytime stamp and he carefully removed all of her clothing including the training bra and the French undies that were perfect for her slender hips and petite little bottom.

Sometimes, the sex-deprived Juan would get right up on top of one of the still-warm corpses and give them a nice little gift of his cream to take with them to the other side. He figured it wouldn’t make any difference because they were already dead and it was not really rape or assault because there was nothing he could do to them that would change that simple fact. He washed the girl carefully with the warm water jets and took a lot of time in cleaning her anal channel. Still, he liked to use a condom when sticking his prick into one of the stiffs because he was a bit superstitious about getting up close and personal with an actual dead person. He tried his best to just think about the girl as a piece of meat like one would find in any butcher shop but her stunningly beautiful face and her perfect heart-shaped buttocks made that almost impossible.

Even though Juan knew the girl was no longer in the land of the living for several hours, he poked into her sphincter cautiously at least reassured by his cleaning process of her anal channel and the fact that she probably died from smoke inhalation and not from actual physical injuries.

He popped thru her sphincter like a thief in the night and slowly sunk into her tight anus feeling the tightness of her recently alive rectal channel. He grabbed her hair and spanked her ass cheek knowing there were only the dead to see his disrespect.

Juan paused momentarily because he thought he heard her sigh like she was waking up or coming back to life. He stayed inside her but checked her pulse and listened for a heartbeat with absolutely no a single sign of life.

He pounded the beautiful girl’s delightful bottom and continued to spank her and tell her that she had been a very naughty girl. He liked to pretend the dead female corpses were his sixteen year old daughter that expected everything and would never even allow him a single kiss on her backside.

It made him feel a lot better to beat these unknown dead women’s asses and pull their hair and screw their pretty rear ends than to pay some silly live whore for a ride of uninspired humping. It was like screwing a latex doll to spend good money on a whore. It was so much better to give his cream to the dead “Jane Doe’s” because they wouldn’t be telling any tales or making any reports to anyone when all was said and done.

He liked the way they didn’t complain if he spurted a little too early or if he took a long time to finally get his nut. They never said a word of anger when he pulled their hair too hard or slapped their tits or butt. He had decided that the dead ones were the best females to hump unless one wanted to hear a lot of screaming or moans that set your nerves on edge when all a man really wanted was a sweet soft female flesh in his hands to be pounded and slapped and spanked to his heart’s content and no witnesses to what he did when he used them like that with nobody around except the dead.

He got up on top of Jane Doe #6’s pretty curved ass cheeks and shoved his hardness down inside her like he was getting fitted for a new pair of shoes. It amazed him that she was so tight and still a little warm like a real live girl with her heart still beating. It was about as deep as he had ever gotten inside a woman back in that special place.