DEATH WARDEN
 
by Bitter
 
 
White petals swirled through the air in a world of endless sakura trees. This world was not like our own; it had no horizon, no roundness, no center-point. There was only the earth and the sky, and the infinite trees. The air was still, yet the petals swam in dancing patterns as if carried by their own private windstorms. Soft green grass lined all the earth that did not carry a tree, fed by an eternal rain from the clouds above. There was one oddity about that rain worth mentioning; though it fell, spattered, and soaked the earth like water, it had a nigh-imperceptibly faint blueish glow to it. But strange though it was, this rain fed the trees and the grass as well as a rain of water might, and it fell steadily enough that it would probably feed the plants on which it fell forever.
 
A native of this unusual realm was walking among the trees with a cool, dreamy gait that befit the quiet and comforting atmosphere. She was human, at least by outward appearance, though she was much taller than any average person: somewhere between eight and nine feet, but without a good reference point it would be impossible to judge precisely. She was somewhat out of proportion; not quite so wide as she would have to be to make up for her height. She was thin, spindly even, as though she had been built with less flesh than was required and sacrifices had been strategically made to minimize the visible effects. She had some curvature of the hips and protrusion of the chest to mark her as female, but no more than that. All this was plain to see; she was clothed only in her own ebony hair, which might well never have known a razor's touch by the way it lapped at her thighs. But she carried herself with dignity, perfectly at ease with the bareness of her body. In that place of idyllic, absolute nature, clothes would perhaps have seemed more out of place than nakedness.
 
A sound struck the woman's ears, muffled by distance but of a tone that was harsh and shrill compared to the soft pattering of the raindrops. She turned her head from one side to the other, trying to find the source of the sound. When she had determined where it was coming from, she set off in that direction, still at ease but with a certain urgency in her step. The sound grew clearer as it drew closer: it was, unmistakably, the sound of a woman crying out in pain. The black-haired giant wound around the sakura trees until finally she uncovered the source of the wailing. There was a human woman propped up against one of the trees, groaning and sobbing as convulsions wracked her body. Like the native, she was naked; unlike the native, she was short-haired and normal-sized. But stranger still, she had no color. It was as though she were made of water, the same sort of water that rained down from above: translucent, tinged with sapphire and slightly luminous. It was impossible to tell the color of her hair, eyes, or skin-- she was merely the description of a woman, incorporeal.
 
As the black-haired woman drew near, the ghostly woman suddenly jerked her gaze upward. Horror joined suffering on her face and she screamed "Stay back!" at the interloper.
 
"It is all right," replied the black-haired woman. "I am here to help you."
 
The ghostly woman continued to shiver with pain. She hissed through her teeth, panic robbing her of her thoughts. "N-no. Don't," she said instinctively. "I can-aaah..."
 
"I mean you no harm," the black-haired woman insisted. "I can take the pain away."
 
"How? How?" the ghostly woman demanded.
 
"Let me touch you," said the black-haired woman.
 
The translucent woman gasped and hissed, but ultimately reason overwhelmed instinct and she nodded between shakes. The black-haired woman reached out with one hand and put it on the ghost's shoulder. Though nearly invisible, the smaller woman was quite tangible. A gasp escaped her lips as the giant's hand perched at her joint: where their bodies met, the pain was eased. All the rest of her body was in agony, but her shoulder was soothed.
 
"Let me hold you," said the black-haired woman. This time she met no resistance; as the giant looped an arm around the smaller woman she fell willingly into her embrace. The larger woman slowly eased into a sitting position, drawing the other woman down with her until she was sitting on her lap, the smaller woman's back pressed to the larger woman's front. The giant looped her legs over the smaller woman's feet, and what remained exposed of the other woman she rubbed, each part gaining some relief in turn. Though the translucent woman fidgeted a bit as her comforter's hands passed over her breasts and crotch, it soon became apparent to her that the larger woman's touch was impersonal, medicinal, strictly necessary.
 
"What is your name?" said the black-haired woman, after some time.
 
"Mary," said the ghost. There was a pause. "What's yours?"
 
"What name do you find beautiful?"
 
Mary thought for a moment. "Catherine," she said.
 
"Then I am Catherine," said the black-haired woman.
 
"What is this place?" Mary said.
 
"I am sure you have many questions," said Catherine. "And I will answer all that you ask. This is the world beyond the world of mortals."
 
"The afterlife?" said Mary.
 
"No," said Catherine, continuing to rub. "The 'afterlife', as you think of it, does not exist. It is as I said: this is the world beyond the world of mortals."
 
"But... I died," said Mary.
 
"How did you die?" Catherine asked.
 
"I thought I was asking the questions."
 
"I may ask some of my own. Please, tell me... how did you die?"
 
Mary thought for a moment. "It was a car crash. Do you know what a car is?"
 
Catherine nodded; Mary felt it more than saw it. "I know much of the world of mortals."
 
"Okay then. There was a stoplight-- it was red, so I stopped, and when it turned green I just went on like normal. Then... then I heard someone blowing their horn and I looked to my right... I don't know why but someone was speeding through the red light... they hit me... and then I fell and I was here."
 
"Yes... I see," said Catherine. "A sudden, traumatic death. That is why you came here."
 
"Why? What happened?" said Mary.
 
"Look around," said Catherine. "See all these trees? These are the origin of all life. Every soul is born here, on the branches of these trees."
 
"They're the petals?"
 
Catherine smiled. "Yes, little one. As the petals fly, they trace a soul's path through destiny. Here they find the fate that will guide them through the rest of their existence. Look above you now." Mary craned her head upward, looking into the sky for the first time. It was covered with the clouds that were producing the omnipresent rain. But there was something wrong about them; something in the texture, or the way they moved. As Mary saw a stream of petals flowing upward, out of the tree line and up into the air, it occurred to her what was wrong. They were not normal clouds at all: all the sakura petals were gathered above, clustered into an endless mass of fluttering white. "There is the mortal world," said Catherine. "The infinite souls in their eternal dance. A soul is born here in the trees, then finds its way to the mortal realm. When it has exhausted its fate, it melts and returns to the earth as rain. The trees take up the rain and put out new petals-- and the cycle continues."
 
"So... why didn't that happen to me?" Mary said.
 
"Every so often, a fate goes awry. If a soul fulfills its fate, it has no need of its bodily form, so it dissolves and disperses. But if the body is taken away before the soul's fate is fulfilled, the soul retains its bodily form-- and so it was with you. You were never meant to be struck by that car, Mary, but so it was."
 
"Is there any way for me to get back?"
 
"I am afraid not. You have left the mortal world-- there is no return."
 
Mary sagged. There was so much she had wanted to do. But perhaps it was because of that feeling that she was where she was right now. As Catherine's hands ran the length of her belly, Mary thought to ask, "Why does it hurt? Why does it hurt so badly to be here?"
 
Catherine answered promptly. "Pain results when our bodies do not match our souls. You have no body, but your soul takes the shape of your body... thus, you suffer."
 
The answer gave birth to another question. "How are you taking the pain away, then?"
 
"I am a Death Warden," said Catherine, as if that answered everything. Sensing Mary's next question, she elaborated. "We were placed her at the dawn of time by the Great Powers, to oversee the flow of souls through the eternal cycle. When there is an error in fate, it falls to us to see that the lost soul is set right. Our bodies give comfort to the lost."
 
"Like me," said Mary.
 
"Yes," said Catherine.
 
"What... what are you doing to do? To 'set me right'?"
 
Catherine took a deep breath; Mary herself felt steadied by it. "Your soul clings to the shape of your body. To ease your suffering, you must lose this form."
 
Mary thought on the implications for some time. "You're saying... I need to stop being me. I have to stop existing?"
 
"As you are, yes," said Catherine. "The same material flows through the cycle forever, constantly assuming new and different shapes. An eternal form is anathema to the cycle; if you stay as you are, you will experience this pain forever."
 
Again Mary lapsed into silence. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked.
 
"You cannot," said Catherine. "If you do not believe me, you are free to wander the forests so long as you wish."
 
Mary considered her prospects. There was nothing in what Catherine said that rang hollow to her. It was strange, bizarre even, but in its own way believable. Mary could think of nothing more horrible than what Catherine herself proposed, except for the idea of being lost in that forest forever, wracked by an incurable pain for all time. Only in Catherine's arms did she find any relief from the suffering. The way was clear, bleak though it was. "Catherine," Mary said. "I... I'll do it. 'Set me right'."
 
Catherine gave Mary a comforting squeeze. "You are a brave woman, Mary. It is a tragedy that your fate went awry. I must release you. Please, withstand the pain as long as you are able."
 
Mary reluctantly departed from Catherine's caresses and felt the stinging agony return. But she did not clutch herself as before, did not panic. She stood with her arms at her side and pressed the shakes into submission as well as she was able. Catherine rose up before her to her full height; Mary found her gaze falling just below Catherine's breasts. Catherine said, with some haste, "Please, kneel and close your eyes." Mary did as she was asked; she sank to her knees and shut her eyelids, waiting for the mercy that Catherine offered her.
 
Catherine stepped forward, aligning herself over Mary's head. With one hand, Catherine steadied the poor lost soul's head, and with the other she spread open her labia. Crouching slightly, she placed the one against the other and pushed. Despite their size difference, Mary's head was far too large to fit inside Catherine's womanhood, but Mary was no longer strictly solid. Her head began to deform, compressing inward and sucking into Catherine's nether lips. Mary squirmed at the sudden bizarre distortion of her natural dimensions, but her surprise was mitigated by the warm, soothing embrace of Catherine's flesh. Her head had been squeezed terribly thin, but it did not hurt. So Mary did not resist as Catherine pushed her way downward, squeezing in Mary's ears and jaw in the same way. Catherine took Mary's shoulders in her hands and pushed them together, compacting them into a span no larger than Mary's neck. Catherine bent at her knees and Mary's shoulders slid into her; Catherine sighed with relief at that, as the worst of it was already over.
 
Now Catherine could proceed more naturally; she worked with her legs alone, holding her arms out for balance. With every squat she drew more of Mary's spirit body into herself; as she rose, she clenched her muscles to prevent any of Mary from sliding out. The task was made more difficult by the juices starting to accumulate at Catherine's entrance, but Catherine had been a Death Warden since time immemorial and a little lubrication was no obstacle. Mary, for her part, had finally determined what Catherine was doing to her, and despite the absurdity of it could not object either internally or externally. Her life had begun in her mother's womb; it was only appropriate to reverse the process in the same place. Mary felt her head compress still further as it passed through Catherine's cervix, and then it was suddenly its usual size as it reached the room beyond. Catherine's womb expanded to accommodate Mary's reasserted form; Catherine could feel it distending with the shape of its occupant and sighed involuntarily at the sense of fullness. Still Catherine continued to work at Mary's body; the lost soul's breasts compressed and rolled into the Death Warden's vagina, followed in turn by the small of her back and her belly. Catherine's internal flesh gave Mary the same comfort as her cuddling had, but even more so: the rippling folds and slimy lubrication teased her skin, or what simulated it. Mary squirmed in her vaginal captivity, trying to worm her way deeper into Catherine's body. With another forceful drive, Catherine claimed Mary's ass, wrapping her twin mounds with herself.
 
Mary now found herself in Catherine's womb from the waist up; with the dim light from inside herself she could see all the little pinkish folds. A contraction roiled through the chamber as Catherine took another pull; Mary felt her ass cheeks return to their normal shape. Suddenly, Mary felt her legs, still exposed to the painful atmosphere, straightening out; Catherine had stood up, taking the last of Mary's body with her. Mary felt a powerful clamping force around her thighs, and suddenly they were emerging into the womb with her. Mary helpfully pulled up at them, shifting inside Catherine to get better leverage. She felt more than heard the groans this friction produced; evidently Death Wardens were wired similarly to human women! Soothing pressure at her feet told Mary that Catherine had grabbed her soles and was pushing upward. As Catherine pushed, Mary matched her force, and with a slurp her feet disappeared into the larger woman's lips.
 
Catherine sank to the grassy floor, cradling her swollen belly. With Mary's entire body now back at full size, Catherine appeared to be very well past due in a pregnancy with triplets. But if this weight bothered her, she made no display of it. Instead, she ran her hands over her own skin, kneading the distended mass and taking in the sensations of having another body inside her own. There was nothing to do now but wait for her body to do what it was designed to do.
 
Mary had curled into a ball by now, her thighs pressed up against her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. The womb walls were pressed up against her with just enough force; she couldn't help but rub up against them. Even those parts of Mary not in direct contact with the wall were fine; all the pain had left her, replaced with an equally powerful sense of comfort. Comfort and something else-- pleasure, intimate pleasure. Mary could feel her body heating up, tingling inside. Unable to reach herself with her hands, she settled for squeezing her legs together, using the pressure to tease her suddenly-needful sex. But she hardly needed to bother; the arousal was building without her help, a thing unto itself growing from within her. Mary felt fluid all around her, different from the internal liquids of Catherine's body. Mary felt like she was sweating all over, from every pore on her body. And she felt smaller, lighter. The pieces came together all at once; she was melting, giving up the shape she had been constrained to for so long. And as more and more of her essence seeped away, the better she felt, the denser her pleasure became. The womb kept its tightness the whole time, making it difficult for Mary to track just how much mass she'd lost. Then all of a sudden she was tiny, just a single little raindrop amid the flood. Her pleasure reached its peak; she lost herself in it, washed away in her orgasm and vanished.
 
Catherine closed her eyes as the last of Mary's spirit leaked out of her. She had been free-flowing as Mary underwent her metamorphosis, rivulets of the same spirit-matter as the rain pouring out of her as Mary gave it up. Her belly flattened, her womanhood squeezed out a few final droplets, and Catherine entered a subdued, demure climax. She drew up a breath and held it, let it slip away from her in tiny sighs. Finally the tension left her, a warm and comfortable relaxation left in its place. Another lost soul had been returned to the cycle, and for this Catherine's body had rewarded her. For a short while Catherine basked in the glowing sensations, up until the very last of them faded. After getting her feet under herself, Catherine set out into the rain once more and resumed her everlasting vigil, watchful for the next lost soul.
 
 
***
 
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:
 
I consider this story the equivalent of a pencil sketch; just a quick little something to get an idea out of my head.
 
I've been playing a game called "Muramasa: The Demon Blade" lately. For Kisuke, one of the protagonists, the game starts in a rainy forest, and the plot throws into question whether or not he's actually alive. It doesn't help that he can see little soul-flames floating around everywhere. So I got the idea of a forested afterlife covered in an eternal rain, and this story naturally evolved out of that idea.
 
This story killed two birds with one stone for me. I've been meaning to do an F/F story, since that's the only configuration of the sexes I've never done, and I've been meaning to do an unbirth story out of respect for certain individuals. Granted, this story might not be their cup of tea, exactly, but I can always write more.
 
Something I never got to mention in the actual text: this strange afterlife is actually constrained on the Z axis. That is, it extends infinitely on the X and Y planes, but it has a start point on the Z axis, beyond which nothing exists. There's the earth, with its "water table" of spirit energy, and then... nothing. You can't go below the earth here. There is actually nowhere to go, seeing as there is no space to move into. It does not create a vacuum, because that would imply empty space. Don't spend too much time trying to understand it.
 
At risk of drifting into weeaboo territory, I find the symbolism ascribed to the sakura petal in Japanese culture compelling; put simply, it is used to represent the transitivity of life (among other meanings). It seemed to fit.
 
I briefly considered calling the Death Wardens "shinigami", which is basically the a Japanese way of saying "grim reaper", but again, it's best not to stray too far from your own culture. There are some rather unsavory stereotypes associated with those who put too much stock in Japan's culture instead of their own. Then again, kind've like anime, the concept is one that actually got exported to Japan from the western world and reinterpreted. So maybe it's just part of the larger cultural mashup and fair game.
 
God damn it, I think I'm thinking about this too much.