“Come into my parlor.”, said the spider to the fly

I’ve had my website up for nearly three years now and during that time I have received hundreds of emails from folks of all walks of life.  And in many replies of those emails I dished out my own common-sense ‘wisdom’ of different aspects of necrophilia… and while I am basically comfortable discussing death and what happens to us after our demise, from both a scientific and fantasy sense,  I was still left with a piece missing… many pieces actually.  One of those missing pieces was witnessing and experiencing the actual embalming process.  This is a report on a recent non-erotic ‘adventure’ into the dark side that I call a pre-mortem visit… since most of us get to meet the embalmer post-mortem.

First,  I should mention a bit about Steven.  He is a self-admitted gay (hence his erotic thoughts involve living or dead young men), verbally articulate, degreed in the arts, and a lover of culture, antiquity, and opera.  Proficient once in piano now preferring the violin, he knows four languages fluently (one of which is Latin).  Steven, born in Germany but moved to the States as a child, now resides in Atlanta… his Southern drawl having completely hidden any trace of a German accent years ago.  His embalming services are provided to a circle of funeral homes (it’s common for funeral homes to job out the actual embalming rather than employing an embalmer full time).  He’s been in the business over 20 years and has easily performed over 20,000 embalmings (yes, that’s ‘thousand’; three to five a day or more is not uncommon).  Interestingly, he has no patience for computers (so no chat or email, sorry folks) and is only approached by phone or snail mail.

After a number of phone calls so that we could feel each other out and determine our respective sincerity and credibility he invited me to visit him the next time I was available.  I happened to have had an unused plane ticket so I decided to go for it and I am glad I did.  He told me to wear a dark suit when we meet as we’d be driving to and from funeral homes dropping off or picking up bodies and that proper dress is what the job calls for.  I arrived on a Friday and we met the next day… he said his associate was delivering a body within the hour to a local funeral home.  Since Steven does not have his own licensed embalming facility (mortuary) he has an arrangement with a local funeral home to use their facility in exchange for doing their embalmings for free.. so he has access 24/7 as I was soon to realize that death has no time table.

Upon arriving at the funeral home we entered through the back garage and I was immediately struck by the tell-tale odor of embalming fluid.  We entered a small room adjacent to the garage area that was about 15 ft. by 10 ft., which included a small closet storage area.  Immediately to the left as I walked in was a typical casket, closed, and on it’s wheeled cart.  To the right of me was a wheeled table on which rested a fully clothed and ready-for-viewing dead elderly gentleman.  And about five feet in front of me was a naked male body laying on the embalming table.  All in all a fairly small room for two  corpses, a casket, and two live people.

First Subject –
Sex:  Male     Age:  mid 40’s     Height:  about 5’5”    Death:   Hepatitis C, Infectious

Well, test or not, I was surprised I was not bothered one bit.  In fact, I was busy reading all the OSHA’esque posters and chemical warnings… checking out the tools of the trade… and looking at the pumps and hoses.  But subconsciously I was tuned in to my own feelings of the moment (more on my feelings in Part II).  Steven returned after about 20 minutes and proceeded to get all the implements and supplies ready and get suited up.  He read off a clipboard that this ‘subject’ had died of Hepatitis C… very infectious.  The corpse looked about mid to late forties in age and was obviously of Asian descent (Steven mumbled something about him resembling Mao as he donned his protective garment).  As he reached up to turn on the radio, Steven asked if I wished to participate or watch.  I told him since I was still a virgin at this experience that perhaps I should simply observe from the master for now.

Steven loves classical music and his station of choice was in the middle of Verdi’s opera, Aida.  As he interpreted to me the story unfolding in that opera (he also knows Italian) he gathered his tools and fluids and protective face shield (for infectious cases).  I learned that embalming fluid comes in many tints as the color can be matched to the skin color of the deceased; that there were certain solutions for cleansing and disinfecting points where body fluids can leave the body, such as the eyes and mouth; solutions to fill the abdominal cavity… and general body washes.  The embalming fluid color of choice is generally pink.  He emptied the contents of two pink bottles into the cylindrical glass reservoir on top of the pump.

His tools were a collection of forceps of different sizes,  a scalpel with a changeable blade, and three short lengths of string.  Once his tools were laid out across the chest of the corpse he starting the process.  He raised the head on a short headstand so that stress was relieved to keep the mouth and eyes closed.  First he squirted an antiseptic solution from a bottle over the face and eyes, then a wad of cotton (an embalmer’s staple item I was to learn) was used to wipe the face clean… even lifting the eyelids with his rubber-gloved hands to cleanse the eyes directly (making me empathically squint a bit).  From there he went to the arms and told me how during rigor the appendages can get very stiff.   So in order for the arms to be able to be placed across the chest for the viewing position the arms, hands, and fingers are lifted, moved, bent, and pulled.  I did hear some audible stiffness and cracking sounds (I don’t think bones were broken; rather joints being worked).  Once the arms were flexible enough he crossed them over the chest, one hand interlocked into the other as you would see at a viewing.  The reason for the positioning at this point is because the embalming fluid will later harden the arms into that position.

Once that was done Steven squeezed another solution over the entire body… a kind of cleansing soap.  Leaving the rivlets of soap on the body, he took scalpel in hand, pausing for a moment to use it as an orchestra conductor’s baton to keep cadence with the music of the opera coming from the radio.  The image before me was ironic; the crescendo of the music inspiring in him to act as a conductor in jest, yet he himself was a ‘maestro’ to the preparation of the dead… waving his scalpel as if directing some dark power to accomplish his embalming.

He again began interpreting the aria as he explained where he would make his incision on the body.  His cut was about a three inch incision very near the right collar bone.  The bloodless cut just barely penetrating enough to allow access to pry out a section of the main vein and artery through which the embalming fluid would be sent inside and the blood would be flushed out.   After making little snips into the artery and vein he inserted the stemmed nozzle of the embalming fluid pump into the artery and what appeared to be about a 6 inch thin forceps into the vein.  Flipping on the pump I could see the hose leading to the nozzle begin to stiffen with the pink fluid as it entered the body.  By moving the forceps deeply in and out of the heart area the blood was kept flowing out, free from clots,  as it was replaced by the embalming fluid.  In a few minutes the once palored jaundice color of the dead man soon began to fade and take on a more natural skin tone.  As the pump did its whirring and the opera continued playing over the radio Steven began to massage the body… in effect assisting the pump in the discharge of the blood by massaging the legs and abdominal areas… pausing briefly to again ‘prime’ the forceps to keep the blood flowing out of the body.   The massaging process also served to wash the body as he would use the water hose to rinse from time to time.

I should mention at this point that the body itself was resting on a draining table, a table with an extended edge around the sides so that fluids do not spill over but rather flow toward the feet to a drain that emptied directly into the ground.  He kept water flowing from a clear plastic hose near the head at all times and as the blood left the body it sent crimson rivers down the length of the body into the drain.

As soon as the blood drainage took on the color of the embalming fluid that was an indication the process was completed and Steven turned off the pump… removed the nozzle and forceps… then used the lengths of string to tie off the vein and artery.  By this time the opera was over and the announcer was discussing the works of Wagner.   Tucking the exposed vessels back into the body with his finger and a strip of cotton, he squirted into the incision a hardening agent to act as sealant against leakage… then proceeded to stitch the incision closed.  Once closed, another sealant was used and a strip of cotton was applied over the stitching.

While commenting on the attributes of Wagner, Steven then took the trocar in hand (simply a two-plus foot of stainless hollow tubing with a pointed tip that had holes in the side) and attached to the non-pointed end another clear plastic tube… then opened a valve.  The hissing of air indicated all was working well… so Steven  positioned the point of the trocar just under the left ribcage and with both hands shoved the device into the abdomen.  Immediately I saw fluids of varying colors flow through the tubing… red, brown, yellow…

Just to recap a bit… in order to contain abdominal swelling due to decomposition of the internal organs releasing gases, the organs are drained of all bodily fluids… urine, feces,  blood, etc.  To do this the trocar is used to penetrate the organs and suck out by vacuum these organic fluids.  Through deep penetrating thrusts into the abdomen at different angles each organ is perforated and the contents removed.

With each thrust of Steven’s trocar the body jerked from the force and more colored contents were sent flowing through the tube.  There was no offensive odor during this process as one might expect.  He continued his thrusting to all quadrants of the abdomen; in other words, still keeping the trocar imbedded in the same entry hole, Steven simply would pull back and thrust back in a different position… gradually going 360 degrees.  I noticed the abdomen compress a bit as the fluids were removed.  On the shallow thrusts Steven would position one hand on the far side in order to gauge his penetration so as not to come out the other side.  One thrust I noticed went up into the neck.

Once Steven felt that the organs had been drained sufficiently he turned off the suction, and removed the tubing from the trocar handle.  From the cabinet he removed a bottle that contained a special fluid for use in abdominal cavities to retard decomposition.  He affixed a short tube onto the bottle and the other end into the still-imbedded trocar.  Then raising his arm he used simple gravity to empty the contents of the bottle through the trocar and into the abdomen.  He called this process ‘pickling the organs’… which I presumed was the un-scientific term.

Once that process was completed, the trocar was removed.  Following another squirt into and around the opening with the anticeptic fluid, Steven reached into a drawer and took out a what appeared to be a small white plastic plug.  Indeed it was a plug… or rather more akin to a plastic rivet.  Using a special hand tool the plug was inserted into the hole and crimped into place… anchoring the plug into the hole thus forming a seal to keep the new abdominal contents from oozing out.

Steven then started the preparation of the face; the process where an embalmer’s true creativity can shine.  He first washed the hair, then shaved the dead man’s face.  The mouth and eyes were already closed and did not require any special attention.  But as a routine Steven used a clear sealant over the eyelids to keep them closed… constantly dabbing with cotton to wipe away any excess.  Using forceps he shoved cotton up each nostril, again to ensure against leakage.  Although the mouth was already closed he did use cotton in small amounts around the lower gumline and some inside each cheek to fill out the facial expression.   Then using a minute amount of Super Glue (yep.. that’s right!) he sealed the lips together but molding them into a realistic natural form.

Once the body was wiped dry Steven slid it onto another table that contained a cloth body bag.  The completed body was going to be transported to a client funeral home for final dressing and makeup.  The entire process took about two hours.

No sooner had he completed that job and notified his driver to deliver the body, his pager went off.  It seems a body was arriving from a nursing home within the hour.  Steven and I went out for dinner during the interim.  I guess in a way I was somewhat amazed that I had an appetite after witnessing an embalming… but I truly was hungry having not eaten yet that day.   Given the man that was just embalmed was Asian, Steven suggested we have Chinese.

Following our dining experience we returned to find an elderly lady already on the embalming table.  Her physical condition was grotesque and quite emaciated; looking very much like a victim of a concentration camp.  Her head was back, eyes open, mouth open… skin and bones… arms curled up and legs bent in rigor.  She looked more like she had died of fright than natural causes.  Steven again left me alone in the embalming room as he went out to check with the owner of the funeral home.  I guess one’s mind wanders do some degree in new surroundings and certainly in viewing this naked elderly lady.  No, there wasn’t anything sexual or erotic about the scene for me but in seeing what age had done to her appearance I was reflectively sad.  She was about 5’5” maybe… silver hair from age, but what pubic hair was left she looked blonde, assuming that is an accurate indicator.  Her breasts were typically small and aged.  I wondered if in her long life she loved and was loved… if in her youth she looked cute… alluring… sexy.  If the first time she ever had sex was an event shared with a young man who treated her well… one will never know.  The door opened and brought my senses back to reality.

Flipping on the radio again, Steven commented on the classical sound being played as being an overture by Beethoven, which oddly enough seemed a bit durge-like and appropriate to our surroundings.

Steven donned a body apron but this time left off the protective face gear as this person was not infectious.  Glancing up at me he again asked if I’d like to participate and again I declined (she seemed a bit too frail for my inexperienced hands, I feared).  He then went through the same routine of collecting his tools and fluids… re-filling the pump with more pink embalming fluid.

Following that came the time to begin to loosen up this lady.  As I said before, she was frozen in a rather grotesque way… head back, eyes and mouth wide open, arms up and curled, and legs drawn up a bit.  Steven attempted to loosen the legs first to get them more flat by actually putting his upper body weight across them.  This caused the upper part of the woman to shift up a bit… but he managed to keep her body level.  That sight caused me to ask if he had ever lost control of a body and it fell on the floor.  His reply was that he never had a body fall on the floor…. but because of a wobbly and insecure table he did have a table and subsequently a corpse fall on top of him one time.  Fortunately it wasn’t one of the many 400 pound bodies he’s had to embalm in his past.

Next were the arms and hands.  These limbs took a fair about of maneuvering to make limber enough to lay across her chest.  Steven pointed out the woman’s advanced arthritis that turned her hands and fingers into root-like knarls.  He also said that working with an emaciated body like this it’s easy to tear the skin.  Her arthritis must have been very painful.  It took a fair amount of effort… joint pulling and bone creaking to get them presentable.

Rather than repeat the description of the embalming process again (there was nothing significantly different) I’ll move ahead to the more ‘creative’ process; restoring the facial attributes.  Earlier Steven had taken the woman’s head in his hands and gently twisted and turned in order to loosen the neck so it would lay properly on the head rest.  That took pressure off the eyelids and lower jaw to remain open.  But it was obvious that it would take more to get her eyes and mouth closed.  After cleaning the eyes with a solution Steven worked his fingers under the eyelids to stretch the skin.  Remarkably this seemed to do the job.  But to ensure the lids stayed closed he dabbed each one with Super Glue.  Closing the mouth would be a whole different story.

If you have seen mountain climbing movies you will recall a tool the climbers use to sink a spike-like hook (a ‘piton’) into a crack in the rocks.  The tool is essentially a gun that fires a spike with a hook on it, anchoring it into the rocks in order for the climber to anchor his rope.  Well, think of that in miniature… a small spring-loaded ‘gun’ shooting a small pin into the upper and lower gumline, on each side (I couldn’t help but subconsciously wince a bit at the ‘pain’.. if one were alive to feel it).  A wire is then twisted around the top and bottom pins thus holding the lower jaw closed.  Save for the pins being shot in, the process reminded me of my days when I had teeth braces installed.

Once the jaw was wired closed Steven stretched and massaged the upper and lower lip so that it would lay naturally.  Using small portions of cotton he formed the lips into a more naturally closed feature.  Again with another cleaning fluid, then wiped, and a dab of Super Glue just to be sure.  But because she was emaciated her face was gaunt so Steven then described how he would bring out her features a bit more.  Taking a syringe with a moderately long needle from a drawer, and another bottle of fluid from the cabinet, he explained that he would be injecting a hardening agent under the skin to bring out the features.   This was a very tricky process, he said, because the fluid hardens quickly and if not done right can make the face look bumpy.

He injected some fluid into the right cheekbone area… and began immediately to form and massage with his fingers to equally disperse it before it hardened.  Like a sculptor at work, Steven was meticulous in his efforts and actually made the woman’s face appear naturally fuller.  Such is the art of this process… and the creativity of the artist.  He completed his work on her with the final act of inserting a wad of cotton deep into her vagina with a long forceps… with some trouble, I might add since her emaciation made it difficult to enter her.

Again, with me the ‘attraction’ is the spiritual life I choose in my mind to give to the dead person.  You will recall from my story above that Steven had asked if I wanted to participate in embalming the dead woman and that I declined.  I told him later that after having watched him embalm the man earlier that day I was struck so much by the invasive nature of the process… and had that dead woman been a young woman I would have participated… and then some.  No, not for the sexual touching… but I would have wanted, under Steven’s guidance, to have prepared her body myself because I would know the feeling I would have would be once of intense caring.  I would not wash her as simply another dead body.. nor would I prepare her body for viewing as part of a ‘job’.  I would try and convey through my very touch (no gloves) of how saddened I was to see her like this.  It would truly have been a labor of love.  And yes, in the end, I would kiss her… I would be the first mournor to view her and pay my respects.   Steven seemed to understand, although I think his years of seeing the parade of dead pass his table has hardened him to some degree; normal for the mind to adapt that way to cope.

As I’ve said before, we are pretty complex creatures while alive.  But when we are dead, we are simply dead.  Given that a part of all of us has a degree of hope in the unknown, I’d like to think the love I can pass to someone who met an untimely demise is felt in the spirit of the body that was intact.  It ends up being more a state of mind.  I may be performing a sex act on a corpse… but in my mind I am making love with their spirit.  There is no abuse.

Will I ever really experience the real thing?  Time will tell.  But as I sit here writing this and sharing my thoughts to the world I think if I ever did experience my fantasy I might not be able to ‘abuse’ their memory by ‘kissing & telling’.  After all, making love is not like having sex… making love is private.