DELILAH
by Bantlebroth

She never failed to make me laugh, that Delilah of mine. She always had a smile on her face, through all the years as she grew larger and larger. Some days, you could see it behind her eyes: the pain and humiliation. Most times, however, she was genuinely having fun with her condition.
In fact, the only time I ever heard her say something serious was once, very quietly after many drinks at her place. We’d taken the service elevator up, and after hoisting her breasts onto the crane in her brownstone, then settling them centrally as the table to set our drinks on, she looked at me with this fragility I’d never seen her show outwardly. She asked me to get the hardest liquor I could, and so I obliged and we stayed at it until the sky began to lose its dark edge.
“These things will be the death of me,” she said, stroking them lovingly.

Funny how memories like that pop up when you’re grieving. I looked at all the mourners. Friends, family, coworkers, admirers. Oh, the admirers. Delilah certainly had a way of gravitating the curious onlookers to herself. “It’s because they’re trapped in the orbits of these,” she once mused, back when they were each the size of medicine balls. She was so small back then, too.

I’d known her since the first few months of high school. We met when I was this mousy-haired ragamuffin in a comic shop. I stood at the counter, asking to buy the set of dice in the plastic cylinder. The green sparkly ones. The clerk said that they’d been on reserve for her, jabbing a thumb in the air to the guide section where this tiny bundle of sweater and hair and really big face-hiding glasses hovered. She looked at me and smiled shyly, her braces barely visible. She held her books in front of her as she shuffled to the counter in a very awkward way, I remember, as if she’d had an off-set center of balance.
She came up beside me and asked if she could buy me a different set, and I’m sure I blushed. I said something about the blue ones, and I remember I chose them only because they were the exact colour of her eyes. Delilah never forgot that moment. I doubt I ever will either.

Each month was another inch or two on her bust, I’d learned. Once in awhile, when we were very bored and curious, she’d tell me how they needed to remeasure her again. Then, she let me do it, and she taught me the plus-five method of sizing. They sat so high on her, even into the next grade when she surpassed all of the girls and teachers in school, except for the middle-aged night janitor.
“She has my condition,” Delilah whispered to me in the halls one day. That girl really loved knowing I became aroused by those whispered conversations. “I’m going to be bigger than her though, and maybe by college.”
The janitor had breasts that looked like two sacks of flour hung offhandedly over a clothesline. There was no support for them at all.
Conversely, Delilah’s whole upper body was thrusting forward as anything she wore became a cleavage-enhancing push-up bra within a few week’s time.
“What colour shoes did I pick this time?” she’d ask me on occasion, enjoying my reaction.
Sometimes, she’d show up wearing pajama bottoms, apologizing to the teachers with that grin of hers that she just had no idea how that could have happened.

Chamber music began playing a little more audibly, and the viewers took their seats, and I took mine. I sat in the second row. Her father stepped to the podium as the music died out, and he gave several people in the room a soft smile as he spotted them, including me.
“Delilah,” he started, faltering on his daughter’s name with a crack in his voice. He coughed and dabbed his eyes, before restarting. His voice wavered a little. “Delilah had a big heart,” he said, to which many mourners allowed soft laughter under their breaths, punctuated by sniffles throughout the room.

We’d drifted when the paths of our college years led us to places other than our hometown. The last time we’d gotten together was one month in, when we returned for a friend group Hallowe’en party. Just as she’d said, she had grown and surpassed the janitor lady of a few years back. Delilah was dressed as a flannel-clad straw hat farmer-in-overalls then, wearing a box around her neck in which two painted mounds rested with the sign FREE PUMPKINS displayed in front. Those were just smaller than the ones that families paid good money to carve, to which she whispered to me: “Just wait ‘til next year. I’ll be entering them into the county fair size-competition.” She winked, and I laughed.
She looked me in the eyes then with those brilliantly lit blue eyes of hers, and added, “They’re speeding up a bit.” 
That was it, though. My life went to science, as I sought to learn as much about biology as I could. Naturally, hers went a more publicly visible route. We became penpals for awhile, and then that died off as her life became very busy.
I remember catching her on the daytime sleeze show circuit while walking through a waiting room one day. She sat in a chair with her breasts in her lap (modestly contained in a pleasant yellow sundress, mind you) as the camera panned to the lowest-common-denominator talk show audience. The horror of those faces as they stared at her with disgust and withdrawl sickened me, but as I watched, Delilah brushed it off and laughed with no embarrassment at all. The television was on mute and I couldn’t hear a word, but just through her actions alone, I could see that she kept a genuine smile on her face, tossing jokes about her condition and keeping the situation light. I watched as the audience reaction shots started to change from that of abject horror, to more of a cautionary resistance, and into respectful acceptance. As they led into the commercial break, I saw Delilah mouth a few words to which the host and the audience shared a genuinely strong laugh. She smiled proudly.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the man said as he stood beside my elbow. I was looking for seconds at the coffee station where the little triangle sandwiches were.
He was scruffy. That’s all I’ll give him, because he didn’t deserve anything more.
“No comment, creep. Now get out of here.” Not mincing words. Not today.
The man was shaken slightly. “But—”
I turned my gaze on him and he withered. I watched him as he retreated out the front door, and then I gave a nod to the two large attendants in charge. They returned it and strode out the front door as well.
Delilah’s mother smiled at me softly.

“It’s something I secretly funded,” she told me over the phone. I could hear her excitement bubbling.
“Go on,” I happily prompted.
Once she’d become a sensation on the celebrity tour, with her biography becoming a best-seller almost overnight, Delilah had taken her gains and put them all to various charities and research foundations. One side project she’d been instrumental with was a redesign of the North American bra sizing system. Keeping to the background as a shadow investor, Delilah had made strong pushes to educating women of all nationalities, ages, and sizes, no matter where they were. Her main thrust was towards the adoption of a greater universality for women to use bras properly, focusing attention primarily on the United Kingdom’s way of uniformity.
“Five measurements,” she continued, describing how these innovative women created this revolutionary initiative on their own. True pioneers, she described them as.
I asked, “How does it differ from the old plus five method then?”
Delilah went on at length about how those were byproducts of an old age of ignorance and wives’ tales, handed down through generations by women with too much pride and not enough backbone. The world was globalizing, she said. “So many women are on board with this, and it’s constantly evolving. I love it!”
I asked her how she liked her newly fit bras then.
“Oh, those don’t fit me,” she said with a laugh. “Nothing does. The system sort of breaks down after nine inches of difference, see. I’m more of the exception than the rule though, by a large margin. We don’t have much of a resource, yet, for women with a fifty-inch difference between underbust and standing. Fifty-two when I lean.”
I asked her to send me the files, and sure enough, a massive push of tens of thousands of women were redefining the landscape for support garments. It was amazing.
“I’ll be in your area this weekend,” she said, changing the subject. “Do you mind if I drop by? We can do lunch. Maybe watch a movie?”


How could I refuse my old friend. At noon on the Saturday, her blue van pulled into the long driveway off the sideroad, and I watched her wave happily from the driver’s seat. Or, at least, a few feet back from it.
“Oh my god!” Delilah squealed, and I leaned in through her window to give her a giant hug. “Hold on a moment, because this rig takes me a minute or two to get out of.”
The van was elevated as high as a Hummer, but had no clearance below. Delilah opened her door, and she was strapped into a harness that kept her lifted from the massive teardrops attached to her small body. Those breasts were the sizes of sumo suits, except fully rounded and resting on the floor.  Naturally, she was wearing a modified top, with hook-clasps located from her armpit to her hip; it was Barbie pink, and it complimented her hiked jean skirt and sandals. Her legs were situated well to the sides, where modified pedals were installed.
She crooked her arm backwards to open the secondary driver’s side door, and with the added space, Delilah pressed a button on the console which activated hydraulics around her. Her seat began to move diagonally back and downward, and I remember watching as her breasts didn’t once move from their resting position on the floor under the steering column.
“Watch this,” she said with a grin, pointing at the seat’s descent directly beneath her.
The mechanism lowered gradually until the seat found resistance from the lower slopes of her chest and began to compress them, while a soft whining sound started to rise. She winced a little and placed her hands firmly on the underslopes between the chair and the breast, and with a soft lift, she separated the breasts from their containment enough for the hydraulics to continue descending normally. When it was done, Delilah was beaming at me with those brilliant baby blues.
“Another month, and the van will need retro-fitting.  That’s sort of why I’m here, actually.”
I guess I looked at her with a mortal sadness in my face, because she started to bark out laughter, as hard as I’d seen her laugh ever. She was clutching her gut and leaning right into her breasts so that they threatened to smother her face.
“Oh no no no!” she managed. I felt a little ashamed because I didn’t get the joke. “Oh no, see, I’m not going anywhere just yet.  Not for a long time. No no no, love. It’s just that these,” she sunk her hands deep into them as they absorbed her up to her elbows, pushing against them to sit up straight in the chair, “might be getting a bit to big for me.
“I think I might be immobilized soon.”
She wasn’t afraid. Once she’d unharnessed herself and managed the mechanics of the van to swivel her into a wheeled walking-sling, she walked with me to the garage door I’d opened.
“Do you think I can squeeze in there,” she joked, obviously not large enough to fill a garage with her generous bust. Not for awhile, at least.
“Look,” I prompted, pointing ahead. I remember her face filling with joy as she discovered the addition I’d made to my countryside home. The back of the garage had been removed and a large translucent walkway descended to the rear of the house. It was very wide. Sunlight warmed the path, and there were plants on both sides.  As we strolled down, she gave my arm a squeeze.
“I’d like a hug from you right now, if you don’t mind. A real one.”
We both knew the logistics involved, and when I agreed, she began to unbutton her makeshift top from the hooks along her left side. They were strained, and she apologized because her growth had increased somewhat surprisingly in the last few days. “Somedays, when I’m very still, I watch them grow,” she confided. “It’s amazing.”
With the fabric removed from her back, she pushed the cloth out from her chest and roots. Delilah locked the sling in place, and took two steps backward, allowing me to walk under the attached shelf and into the crevice her immense bosom provided. I stood in front of the gal I’d known all those years, and her blue eyes were sparkling in the sunlit path. She stared into my soul, and we didn’t need to tell each other about our shared love.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me close. She was a few inches shorter than me, which made it difficult to wrap my arms below the roots of her breasts. Luckily, she was patient and accommodating, and her flesh was highly pliable. I simply lifted them onto my forearms, and then moved in closer to her so I could wrap them around her torso fully.
She was warm. She smelled of baby powder, and her long hair was like a field of strawberries. She held me tight, and we stayed that way for about a minute. I could feel her smile on my cheek.
Delilah surprised me then, by taking two steps forward.
You know when someone knocks your knee from behind and you lose your balance and buckle? The locked sling did that to me, and I plunged backwards into Delilah’s cleavage fully, drawing her in with me.
We laid trapped in six feet of cleavage, held aloft by a stationary sling. And we started to laugh. We laughed so much that our tears were streaming down our faces.
“Hey. I know how to get out of here,” she said coyly. “You’re not going to like it though.”
I raised my eyebrow, and she gave me a kiss. The first kiss I’d had since I’d held two small pumpkins oh so long ago, back when her breasts were something that kept us apart, not bound us together. Delilah began to unbutton my shirt, and as I returned her kiss with a flurry of my own, I also managed to undo my belt buckle.
“Where should I put this,” I asked her as I shuffled my pants down a little.
“Just cram it to the side. I’ll hold it for you,” she quipped, managing to lower her skirt enough to kick it off, deep into her own flesh.
Our words ended as the lust of two long-time lovers overwhelmed us. We passionately held each other, caressing and stroking our bodies, kissing with ferocity. On a whim, I turned my head to the side and gave a small lick to our fleshy prison.
Delilah moaned and her eyes blazed blue. “Do that again. I dare you,” she purred. I felt wetness seep down onto my pelvis, and her pheromones were actually olfactible. She bit my lip, and then began to rub herself against me while giving love bites to my neck, shoulders, and chest. 
I began to focus my attention to the walls surrounding us, stroking their smooth surface, running my teeth along the skin. Interestingly, and I say this as a wonderous aside because I really did think I was imagining it at the time, I was able to gauge our depth within her immobilized breasts thanks to the veins visible aside us. That first lick that I’d given had left a small residue, and as I looked at it at that moment, it was rising upward.
I stopped everything I was doing, and Delilah came out of her lust-filled trance for a moment to look up at me.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“You’re growing,” I said, “right now.”
Delilah gave me the biggest grin I would ever know right then. “Oh, I’m aware. They do that when I think about fucking you.”
She mounted me and I gasped. The walls tightened in on my face, and she whimpered. She was so wet, and I felt her stroking up and down on my shaft. I wanted to hold her close, but she kept her arms locked on my chest with her fingers digging in, prying herself at a perpendicular angle to me.
“Tell me,” she begged. “Tell me just how much my massive tits are growing. Tell me how much you’ve wanted to fuck me in these tits for all these years. Tell me!”
I felt her fuck me in her breasts, and I gave her all the words I’d held in my heart for those many years.
Had she been any other normal woman, I would’ve reached forward in that missionary position and fondled her two soft orbs. This was Delilah however. The woman of my dreams.
With nothing in front of me to cup and support, I opted to continue my assault on the surrounding flesh within my reach. Which, I might add, was everything around me.
There was a thud and we dropped, and my cock popped out of her.
Delilah laughed hard and leaned in tight for a huge hug, and waited for me to realize what had just happened.
“The sling?”
“The sling.”
She took her legs and wrapped them around mine as she renewed her assault on me, finding my wet dick and sliding it in deep. I held her face and kissed her furiously, as she began to suck on my thumb, raking it with her teeth. “Oh fuck me,” she moaned.
“I can feel… the plants…”
She came on me, screaming and digging her fingers into my back. I was starting to approach my threshold, having held out for so long, but she fought through her orgasm and looked into my eyes again. “No. I’m not done yet.”
The containment of her flesh was becoming tight on us, but that didn’t slow her down. If anything, it pushed her tighter onto me. Deeper within her. “The… walls…” she managed.
Her continued thrusts became faster, shallower, and I could hear muffled sounds of crashing from somewhere.
Delilah screamed again, and this time when she came, I did as well. She held her voice for almost a minute, and her eyes rolled upward as I shuddered within her. My ejaculation continued throughout, pulsing and erupting well past her scream, until I, too, fell limp.
She collapsed on me and began to cry, and I emerged from my euphoria enough to hold her tight. The flesh around us was still slowly rising, closing in on our breathing area.
I stroked her hair. “Why are you crying?” I asked softly.
She gave me a very pained look, and laughed a little.
“I think, I broke your walkway.”
As I’d suspected. I gave a comforting smile, but she looked at me with a frown.
“No,” she quickly warned. “Don’t get aroused. I need to get down for a bit.” She bit back a grimace and sucked air painfully between her clenched teeth.
I grew concerned and my erection melted immediately. “Are you okay?”
She gave me a small kiss on my lips, and then began to slide down my body, pushing herself along by planting her hands on her own walls. I was the one moaning then, my brain choosing to register the feeling of this gorgeous woman going down on me, and I sprang to attention. She’d gotten past the point where I could impale her, however, and as such she was able to plant her feet and move away from inside the trap.
“Come on and take my hand,” she prompted, and I knew she was in pain. I grabbed hold and she leveraged her and I out from the wet space we’d shared, hauling me forward slowly as more light revealed itself, until finally we were free.
She was crying again, and I quickly kissed her and removed myself from under her cleavage.
“I think I cut myself. Over there,” she motioned.
I’d just like to take a second to say the words now that rendered me speechless back then. Delilah, the woman with the world’s largest breasts, who was growing every day and who would grow until her final day, was immense.
Truly, sincerely massive.
She was a beautiful woman attached to a set of gelatinous cake-shaped breasts that were the size of two above-ground swimming pools, as high as they were wide and long.
I walked along the outer edge which had easily broken through the constructed walkway I’d designed, wishing in hindsight that I’d known of her aroused capabilities.
The sight the accident stopped me cold.  It was a piece of the wooden frame that had snapped and become lodged in her side.  I quickly examined it and, luckily, thankfully, it hadn’t pierced her breast fully. There was no severe damage as it was only in by an inch or so, however, the after-effects of her arousal were still growing her breasts at a declining-yet-continual rate. The base was loose around the wooden beam, and I quickly called back for Delilah to brace herself before grabbing the light rubble and pulling it loose.  The wooden four-by-four fell and dislodged itself from her flesh, and only a small trickle of blood emerged. More pain than pierce.
She had pulled herself away from those gigantic mounds as far as her temporary immobility would allow, which was a few steps back and to the side, and gave me a happy wave. I asked if she was okay, and she raised her voice to ask me to repeat myself. It was then I grasped her true size, being that I was only halfway distant between chest and nipple, and we couldn’t hear each other at normal conversational levels.
“Wow,” I said.
“Wow,” she said.
I walked back to her and wrapped my arm around her, telling her about the bruise she’d have. She gave a light chuckle, feeling a little better about her situation.
“It’s going to take a little while for these to settle back down, you know, and the day’s still young.” Her grin returned, although a little less intense than before. “The way I figure, we have three options.
“First, which is the most realistic, is that we do nothing. You put some music on and I read a magazine until we can fish our clothing out of my boobs and get dressed again. A bit more and we can see if the sling is salvagable, which I’m pretty sure you could jury-rig a substitute if necessary.” I nodded.
“Next,” she added, “is the dangerous option of going for Round Two.”
My member raised up a little at those words.
“Oh,” Delilah said, “believe me when I say that I’m up for that and a lot more. However, we have your home to worry about, as well as my distant future. So, I think it best to just cool off for awhile, and look at option three instead, which I think you might like. A consolation prize.”
I smiled with a curious look about me.
“Option three,” she said, her voice lowering a little. “You haven’t seen my nipples in years.” Then she laughed. “Truthfully, neither have I. Why don’t you go pay them a visit? No touching.”
It was a great idea, and I kissed her on the cheek before parting to go forward. I held my hand alongside me so she could watch and feel the distance as I slid my fingers through her bosom with each passing step.
“Option four!”, she quickly added. “Could you get me a bucket to pee in? I really have to get this out of me. Grab the garden hose too. And my pail of baby powder from the back of the van. Thanks. Hurry!”

Delilah’s father stood, as did everyone except for his wife. He took the handles of her wheelchair in hand and carefully manoeuvered her along the front row of mourners, turning the sobbing woman so as to guide her through the middle of the parlour and towards the burial site.
She couldn’t hold in her sadness, and found herself burying her face in her hands and in her compressed bosom, as they were raised due to the sidearms of her confinement. Compassionate members of the service all had great desire to comfort and console the woman during her bereavement, but were unable to gain close enough proximity to her shoulder to show support.
Instead, they placed a warm hand on the spillage of her massive breasts as she was wheeled past them. She had a minimum of three hands on each breast during the procession, with each sympathizer able to stay touching for a full second at a time.
I said nothing, and didn’t move. Delilah’s father made a note to share eye contact with me as he passed, and we gave a little nod as our tears flowed.
He was going to be alright, I knew. It was his wife I was worried about most.

“The best thing?”
Delilah twirled a long blade of grass in her hand, while playing with a straw of wheat in her teeth. She was propped up on her elbows as we laid in the fields of her parent’s home in the midwestern part of the country. I could see mountains peeking over the horizon everywhere I looked, but that was only because I was lying opposite Delilah, our right elbows brushing against each other.
All she could see was her breasts.
“Go on,” I prompted. I was genuinely curious.
She laughed. “This Japanese comedy show.”
I rolled on my side and looked up at her. She stroked my hair.
“I mean,” she started, “I knew they were exploitative and condescending. I knew that going in. It really showed up when those curtains parted and I saw how vile the hosts’ malicious grins were.
“The men, I mean.
“The women were in shock. Absolutely gobsmacked,” she added and laughed at the fond memory. “I got that a lot, so much more in the latter years.  Luckily now, I can’t see anyone unless they’re beside me.”
I reached for her arm and gave it a gentle stroke, nuzzling my face on her planted hand. She smiled.
“So, this man says a longwinded introduction in the language, and then butchers my name. Stupid ‘L’s. Then the rest of them chimed in, and the girls became as vindictive as the men. I was used to it though, and it didn’t bother me.
“See,” she continued, “I was excited.”
Her breast bumped my head, and she smiled warmly. Just as we’d done a few minutes earlier, we shifted several inches along the field and alleviated her growth slightly, then settled back into the conversation.
“They already had me in a hoist, where I was wearing this weird rubbery swimsuit, and I was just resting on top of my boobs. So, after playing along with their inane questions and sing-clapping and making hearts with my hands—”
—Delilah tilted towards me a little and made a heart-shape out of her hands by touching thumbs together and fingernails together, but only briefly as the growth of her bosom corrected her posture and pushed her back to a propped position—
“—they started winching me up into the sky. I could hear the strain of the machinery because of how large I was, which back then was only the size of, oh hell, let me think for a second.”
A crow cawed distantly, and I watched the clouds overhead gradually ease from dark purple to soft pink. The colour of Delilah’s tongue. I said nothing, and waited patiently.
“I know,” she said finally, just as my head was nudged once again by her soft bosom.  This time, as I looked at her, I chose not to move. She smiled and shrugged, giving my hand a squeeze.
“Back then, they would’ve been the size of, and I’m guessing here obviously, something like two partially inflated hot air balloons.” With that, her face lit up and her eyes became illuminated. “You know how big that is?” she threw at me with a loud voice.
“How big?” I asked.
“This big!” she said, and took both hands off the ground to hold them in front of her.
By doing so, her full body slid away from her resting spot as the breasts she was attached to extended into a more relaxed, normal position. I watched her go, too. She was probably two feet away when suddenly I was grown over from behind.
Delilah’s breast smothered me, and I pushed with all my might upward into it, but I only felt the smooth flesh spread between my fingers as the growth continued. Only when I felt her hand grab hold of my knee, then my shin, and finally my ankle did Delilah start hauling me out from under it.
I sputtered as I got my breath, and stood to gain a bit of traction from the behemoths. They creeped towards us slowly. She was laughing, but concerned for me.  I knew I couldn’t hold a grudge against her, so I sat a short distance away where she couldn’t see me.
“What happened next?” I prompted. Delilah laughed and simply crossed her hands under her head, laying flat and waiting until the pressure would push her gently along the grass towards me.
“Underneath me, the stage opens up like a scene out of It’s A Wonderful Life. There’s this massive pool of water. Olympic sized, for divers. And then, just like the sound of a rollercoaster reaching the top of a climb,” she said with a pause, and I couldn’t tell if she was doing it for dramatic effect, or remembering the only time in high school we’d visited an amusement park, just when she’d been small enough to latch the bar securely, “they dropped me.”
She started to slide towards me as she spoke.
“I was excited, like I said. I knew it would be the world’s best cannonball. Cannonballs.
“And it was. By god, was it ever.”
Delilah’s growing breasts, as massive as they were becoming, now pushed their host along the ground and into my open lap. She opened her eyes, and gave a warm “Mmmmm. Nice.” I wrapped my arms around her, and we spent a few moments feeling her glide up my prone body, until I was able to wrap myself around her torso and legs in a full body hug. We stopped our momentum by adding my weight, but knew it wouldn’t last forever.
“I dunked those mocking sons of bitches. Emptied out the entire pool on them, except for an ankle’s worth of water. The whole studio flooded, and they lost all their equipment. I hear that the bottom floor of the building was foot-deep in my wake.” She laughed a good hearty roar then, and I could feel it in her body.
Her breasts covered our legs.
“And the worst?” I asked, stroking her hair and giving a soft kiss on her neck. I could feel her start to pull from me as the breasts tried taking her with them.
“The worst,” she said sadly. “Y’know what the worst part was, of all this? This is going to sound silly, but, the only regret I ever had was the week I watched my nipples grow away from my touch.
“I calculated when it would happen, during the end of college. I planned ahead and studied hard, saying that I was going on vacation in advance. I took the tests and was bid safe journey. Then I went home and locked myself in my room.
“I watched them the whole time, whenever I wasn’t sleeping. They left me. I rested these monsters on my bed at the best angle I could, and I held my nipples in the tips of my fingers.
“They felt so amazing, back then. Not like now, where every breeze is an effort not to overwhelm me. No, back then, on my bed, with just my fingers, I felt them grow away from me.”
Overhead, clouds became white and the sky a lighter blue.  Stars faded out one by one. Delilah cried a little, and I held her tight.
Her breasts wanted her badly, but I held her tight.
“At first, my thumb was still able to touch them, so for a day or so I pinched and rolled them. It was amazing. Then, because thumbs are so fucking short, they grew away.
“I was able to use my knuckles after that, and did, to roll them as best I could.  I wanted to mash them into me, but they were too far for that, and when these grew further and they extended past my knuckles, I had to settle for pinching them in my tips.
“And that’s what I did. For two days. I just held them and cried, feeling them slide out from between my grip. Their sensation under my control. It was the only thing left under my control.
“Then, they left me.”
Delilah cried openly now, and I caressed her hair as best I could while retaining my tight hug on her. The stars overhead were almost fully gone now, and her breasts were resting on her belly button. They had begun to press in on our faces, and I felt my back slowly begin to slide along the grass beneath me.
“I’m scared,” she said.

Outside, it was raining. Naturally. It always rained during burials.
Her plot was underneath a small tree on the hill near her house. We travelled the short distance to the site, waiting on Delilah’s mother, who left first and arrived last. Children obliviously played on the hill in their best outfits as scowling parents did their best to hush their youthful giggles and fits.
“You may have noticed the casket,” said the man who oversaw the ceremony. A few people laughed. “That was an intentionally closed casket, shaped like a ‘top-heavy vampire coffin’, because that’s what Delilah asked for. Her words exactly. She wanted to remind you all that within all sadness, there can be times for great laughter.”
The children played in the background. I began to cry quietly.
“In this urn are her ashes, as she requested. It is a normal-sized urn, and that is because Delilah wanted to continue to give smiles and hope to the world around her, even in death.”
The urn was wooden, unadorned with any markings.
“She donated her assets, financial and otherwise, to many communities around the globe prior to cremation, in trust that some good may come from it. Please, let us pay our final respects to a woman who touched all our lives.”
A warm hand held my shoulder, and I saw it was Delilah’s father. Looking past him, his wife smiled up at me and gave a nod even through her tears. She held her hands clasped together in front of her, resting on her blouse.
I walked to the plot and the man gave me the urn which contained Delilah.
I kissed it, and placed it in the ground underneath the tree, where we could watch it grow over the years, until someday it blocks out the sun and touches the sky.