The Cooper Girls, Part 5

Author's warning: The following story contains graphic descriptions of the
effects of smoking and adult language and situations. It is not recommended
that you read it unless you are an adult and are not offended by the
aforementioned language. The opinions expressed in this story are solely
the author's and do not reflect on any individuals who carry the story on
their websites or archives. The people and situations portrayed in the
story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead
are coincidental. Proceed at your own risk and enjoy the story.

The Cooper Girls
PART 5: THE PRESENT AND FUTURE

Rita smiled as she lay on her patio thinking about her crucial eighth year
of life. She discovered her destiny that year and took her place in it.
There was so much she had gone through since then: Her first love, her
marriage, her mother's funeral, the birth of her first child. She would
make sure to record it all in due time.

As she was deep in reflection, she gently reached into her sunbag and
pulled out her Pall Malls. She shook the half-empty pack until two
unfiltered tubes of pure refreshment jutted out of the opening. Selecting
one, she brought it to her soft, pouty lips which held the cigarette in
place as she fished out the lighter. Having found it, she brought it to
life while her hands shielded the flame from the mild breeze. The tip of
the cigarette hissed as it was ignited, then began to turn from tobacco to
carbon ash as the unique chemicals responsible for the tobacco's individual
character separated from the carbon they had been fused to since their
inception and turned into a rich, pungent smoke. This smoke was then drawn
into Ritas waiting mouth where it was accumulated until it could hold no
more. Luxuriating in the pleasant, complex flavor of the smoke momentarily
waiting in her mouth, Rita opened her lips, careful not to let any smoke
escape and began to inhale it.

A ball of smoke could briefly be seen between her open lips, but it
disappeared as she used the air around her to pull it into her body. Her
anticipation grew as the rich smoke caressed the delicate lining of her
throat then tickled the sensitive walls of her esophagus. Finally, heaven
drew near as the smoke entered her anxious lungs and began to fill them
with precious nectar. The warm smoke with its bounty of sweet tar
continually rushed into both of her willing pulmonary organs, navigating
the complex passageways in her chest until every lung surface was contacted
and her lungs were completely full. Her rib cage extended, pushing her
breasts outward to tighten the bikini top that clothed them, in order to
make room for the gift she was giving her lungs.

She held the warm smoke in her lungs for some time, allowing the aromatic
tars to settle into her organs. She luxuriated in the fullness she felt in
her chest as the billions of smoke particles were slowly absorbed into
every air sac and bronchial tube. She was a little sad when she finally
exhaled, mourning the fact that the smoke cloud she ejected would never be
absorbed as part of her lungs, but would instead drift through the
atmosphere until it dissipated to virtual nothingness. A lonely fate,
indeed. Oh well, so much smoke just like that cloud has been fused with her
lungs and will stay in her chest to keep her company for the rest of her
life.

She liked the idea that she carried the tar from her cigarettes around with
her inside her chest. It was like her little secret. Every now and then at
a party or when she was swimming or when she was at work, she would think
about the tar in her chest. It just sat there on her lung tissues making
her feel good while it worked on slowly changing the tissues. She took a
sort of perverse joy in her lessened lung capacity. It was sort of relaxing
and soothing to have a certain amount of texture to her breathing-it really
was. She liked the way her inhales and exhales carried a sort of momentum,
needing a littlemore effort to get started pulling air in and continuing to
pull in for a split second after she stopped inhaling. She liked the sound
and feeling of a part of one of her lungs that had been temporarily closed
off quietly whooshing open with that distinctive "haaa" sound when she
inhaled extra hard. She even liked the fact that the tar was gradually
turning her lungs brown.

She figured that she and all the Cooper women of the past may be sort of
unusual people to love all aspects of their smoking so much, but she
suspected that many other smokers felt like her, but just didn't verbalize
it. Why else would so many people continue to smoke for years on end if
they found the consequences unappealing? Even after the smoke from each
cigarette is inhaled and exhaled, there is very pleasurable feeling in each
smoker's chest. There is a sort of looseness and calm. It's as though the
tar from the smoke has fed their lungs and left them satisfied. If they
could feel the difference between lungs full of tar and lungs without tar
in them, she thought for sure that any smoker would take the tar back into
their lungs is an instant. There is also a certain sense of accomplishment
and pleasure in the feeling a smoker gets when they smoke for many years.
The accumulation of tars in ones lungs over a great number of years (as she
had, being a smoker for 26 of her 34 years) brings with it an unmistakable
satisfaction. after a certain number of years of smoking, you begin to
rejoice in the changes you've made to your lungs and the comfort it has
given you and unconsciously work to accelerate them.

This perhaps brings up the subtle instinct for self-destruction that all
people have deep inside of them as an integral part of their sense of self
preservation. It was put there most likely to give us a motivation to put
ourselves in danger in order to gain dominance in our social group. This is
sometimes expressed by the careless rebellion of youth, masochism, or more
dangerous actions that people carry out. Smokers have the advantage of
satisfying that urge on a daily basis in a comparatively non-destructive
way. A smoker can smoke for a lifetime before the consequences of their
habit catch up with them, yet they know that what they are doing is
destructive to themselves throughout the span of their habit. The
comfortable feeling of the tar in a smokers chest is made sacred by the
fact that it means their body is being damaged ever so slowly.

Rita was no longer just another Cooper woman. She was to become the
greatest smoker of all the Cooper generations. She did endless research on
the effects of smoking and recorded her endless and varied thoughts on the
subject. Her goal was to explore the nuances, pleasures, and biological and
sociological roots of the fetish in order to more fully enjoy it. She was
sort of a smoke-fetish philosopher.

Rita was surprised at the clarity regarding her love of smoking she was
reaching today. She enjoyed analyzing her smoking as a way to augment her
satisfaction from it. She had traveled a long road up to this point, but
the journey ahead was more compelling than the past. What great lumination
would she uncover in the years to come? The Cooper Legacy goes on.

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