In mote physics there is a set of measurements known as the Planck social unit. These measurements are extrapolated from the strong-arm constant of reality, such as the speed of visible light and the Boltzman constant, which describes the mathematics of S. A Planck duration is the distance a massless particle will trip at the speed of light ( the Planck amphetamine ) and consequently the Planck prison term is the amount of clock time it will accept for a atom to jaunt the Planck duration at the speed of light. In the minds of many physicists, the Planck units are the smallest measurements of event in our realism, as the laws of physical science as we understand cease to have relevancy below these measurements within most models and hypothesis. Because of this, the Planck whole may be thought of somewhat like the underlying"grid"within our universe, on which the picture element of world move. Perhaps a single building block of Max Karl Ernst Ludwig Planck metre is the closest we can derive to truly defining a"moment"in our world.

Rebecca stared blankly at her showerhead as the blisteringly hot spray loosened the blood from her svelte skin and carried it down her hourglass variant and swirling into the drain. She stood there for a recollective meter, mouth slightly agape, eyes defocused as the water supply scalded her, punishing her for her sins, even as it comforted her, held tight and purified her. choose away the blood. She didn't try hard to understand what she had done only transactions before, instead simply embracing the heating plant wrapping around her like a second pelt and causing billowing waves of steam to issue from her apartment's open bathroom door and into the assuredness night air past her balcony. Closing her center, she felt at peace for the first prison term in the last… what was it now ? Three weeks ? A month ? It didn't matter now. A svelte grinning curled around her lips. All was well now. All could end now. The youth woman reached down and gently twisted the two boss at her waistline point, causing the weewee to gush to a trickle and for a sudden gust of cool air to run over her from outside.

She turned and opened her middle, suddenly realizing she hadn't even slid her cascade room access shut in her daze. Slowly, gracefully, her calm pattern stepped from the tiled floor onto the fuzzy pinko mat a couple steps away, where she stood for a import and felt the soft strands of celluloid fabric titillation her dripping infantry. It was the Same sensation she had loved since she was a little young lady, just as exceptional as ever this metre. Her smile widened. A real, sweet, kind smile. She turned once more, this time to the body-height mirror in the corner of the bathroom. She was beautiful, her ivory skin glistening and her perfect blonde hair draping over her shoulders and bosom and wrapping around the curvature of her organic structure like a patient and caring lover in the reflection. She took another silent here and now to examine her motherly hip joint, flared to beau ideal and curving into her flawless thighs, pressed against each other just enough to highlight the effeminateness of her skin and the pristine balance of fat throughout her body. Her usually small breasts presented a colorful, tantalizing contrast to her other than pale figure of speech, swollen with breastmilk and taking a pinkish hue, glossy and ripe from the home insistency that was stretching them into beautiful fruit.

Suddenly her optic caught the pacifier laying by the toilet in the reflection, a few specks of blood still spatter across its soft plastic surface. Her expression changed for a few moments into, not a scowl, but an vacancy. A void of emotion, of thought… characterlessness. But as soon as this shift had taken place, it was reversed, and her gentle, motherly grin returned."I love you,"she said silently into the mirror. To whom was unknown even to her. It just seemed a beautiful thing to say in the moment, as the cool night breeze played across her torso and caused lilliputian spots of color to raise across her gorgeous munition and ramification, nipples hardening, pointing up slightly from her immaculate chest. For a present moment she felt a thrill, and glanced down almost teasingly at her own back talk, barely seeable between her satiny second joint. She could experience a rush of blood, warmheartedness inside her, contrasting with the cold air as her sex prepared for something that would not come. Not now, not ever again.

The mother- the girl- the woman, walked with silent, perfect thanksgiving through her placidity one-woman bedroom, heedful not to step in the blood-stains on the carpeting as she approached the balcony, hips swaying with the taunting sensualness of a succubus. Her schoolchild contracted as she exited her elbow room to the neon lightness of the city outside, and she took a deep breathing spell of the midnight air, allowing it to play in her lungs for a few moments the way an nut would return to the smoke of a cigar after workweek of a miserable endeavor at quitting. It gave her animation. Grounded her in the beautiful world around her. And yet, it wasn't enough. Or rather, it wasn't a reason to continue. She was happy for this to be her time, her endure target on the existence she'd loved living in until now.

Suddenly she heard a shout. Coming from in front line and above her. She glanced up, and caught sight of a young man, appearing to be in his mid XX, standing on the balcony directly opposite and one floor above hers."Hey sweetie,"he intoned with obvious aim."Saw you out here the early Nox, but didn't get a chance to talk."She could feel his oculus on her naked, dripping breasts, and took no criminal offense, instead smiling sweetly up at him.

"Enjoy it,"she spoke just loud enough for him to find out, her shadow, smooth voice travelling the cool Nox air in two low, echoing waves. The astuteness of passion in her voice was unbelievable, and the man felt his meat, and his cock, pounding in his thorax and pants. The words of the hauntingly beautiful cleaning woman were spoken as if she were instructing, with a dominant potency, her buff to revel their climax inside of her. He stared at her silently, unable to empathise what was happening, awestruck by her lulu, as she lifted herself onto the railing of her balcony and stood up straight, wet hair's-breadth blowing in the low temperature night wind around her like a sheet in a violent storm. He tried to verbalize as he watched lean forward, her grinning disappearing under her nose, but his heart had stopped for a here and now, and his lungs failed him when he wanted to scream, to predict out, to cry to her…"no ”.

She fell, beautifully, gracefully, her body fixed at low gear, for the first two rotations of her drop, and then her limbs began to force in every guidance, painfully, as she tumbled down. She embraced the infliction, embraced the tug of the centrifugal force on her splayed-out form. The pain, the soreness, the pangs of sorrow in those final import purified her like the heat of the shower bath minutes before. It told her she was right to do this, to repent, to leave this populace for a place more beautiful, whether it be paradise or oblivion, or perhaps the overrefinement she deserved.

It's often said that sure deaths are painless. That they happen"instantly ”. That the person feels nothing, the equipment casualty is too great in too dead a time and their mastermind, the seat of the mind, is incompetent of informing them of the horror that their strong-arm signifier is being exposed to. Many would believe that about beautiful Rebecca as her body impacted the concrete below. They would be wrong. For Rebecca, the poor thing, the definition of a moment, of an instance, mattered so often. As her head slammed at near terminal velocity into the grey walk, as her skull flattened, snapped, crushed to dust and nous began to mush, there was a single import, a unity unit of Max Planck time, in which every surviving neuron up until that detail worked dilligently, desperately, to put across to Rebecca, to form the thought in her intellect"I'm demise. My head is exploding like a melon onto the pavement,"and every nerve that still functioned threw a bingle wave of painfulness through her body. Every mote, every proton, neutron, and quark had their wavefunction flop into the exactly discipline perspective to enable a single, quantifiable moment of metre in which Rebecca was fully mindful that she would not subsist in the following proceeding moment. That she was in her last leftover second of her life ; of her violent, grisly demise that she had chosen for herself. If, as some speculate, time is an deception, a simple way for man minds to empathise one great tapis that is the static four-dimensional tapis that is the cosmos, that moment will last forever. It is eternal, constant, forever present. Rebecca will always be there. full of pain, sorrow and terror. Her header split halfway opened. Her naked, motherly figuring collapsing pitifully into a nonhuman tidy sum as her eyes stare up at various nearby holidaymaker watching her die. Watching those Lapplander eyes explode out of their sockets right before the visual face are ripped from her skull. That is her inferno. One of many. Located various months past a few other countless, although not incalculable, Rebekah 's heavens.

Then she was gone, her header liquifying in a wave of red that splattered onto nearby passersby who would expend the next respective bit screaming, crying, calling for help, and staring down at the beautiful corpse that lay there now. Twitching, it tried so hard not to die across every cellular telephone in its makeup. But it was too late. Rebekah, the young lady, the mother, the woman, the man being, the consciousness, was gone. All that remained was this wet, flopping, dripping, beautiful object, breasts flopping with its violent muscle spasm as Charles Grey matter leaked out onto the street with blood, its one intact eyeball several metrical unit away where it was in severe danger of being crushed by the endure footstep of police. It convulsed there awkwardly for a few min, arguably mostly intact from the shoulders down.

The thing, and that 's exactly what it was now, had absorbed nearly of the effect of the impact through the skull and spine. Its soft natural language dangled by a thread of tissue from its jaw, which only remained attached the body because it was compacted significantly into where the neck should have been, which was itself now buried between the two shoulder joint, the acantha compressed to the point where it bulged horrifically midway down the body at a point where it tore through the skin shortly above the buttocks and was visibly and bloodily protruding from the clay. The thing 's soft and pleasantly rounded belly had burst internally, and showed signs of threatening to do so externally as well. A nasty dark substance was trickling from the navel point as as flowing freely from the anus. It was n't feces, although that may make been part of its make-up. The bladder somehow survived the fall well enough to allow it to empty, squirting with storm force-out at shortly time interval with the final desperate bears of a dying heart and two loggerheaded streams of blood out of the cervix. To more than one nearby observer, the brassy sound of liquid splattering in reduplicate bursts out of either end of the thing, and the ropelike appearance of both as they stretched out over various feet, was not unsimilar to an ejaculation. A coming to a level unknown to any mind, but expressed now by an unreflective corpse.

The unseasoned man from the balcony above arrived shortly before the constabulary did. As he pushed through the crowd, binge streamed down his face. This was his demerit. He said nothing. Did she do this because of him ? No, he could n't be blamed for- he finally saw her. No. It. His hammer throbbed against his jean and he bent over to wretch. When he could take a breather again he looked up and saw its lingua, which had spoken to him only mo before, had finally writhed exempt from that stopping point thread and somehow had the energy left in the muscleman to coil one lastly time on the pavement before it stopped moving. An intrusive sentiment wormed its way into his oral sex. He imagined that spit in his mouth, first while it had been in the girls mouth, and then quickly after as it was now. He imagined picking it up, with nonentity else there, and wrapping his own tongue around it, staring down at the thing still flopping and pouring fluid out every porta before-

The police arrived, shoving him and several others out of the way and barking Order cipher was listening to, everyone who was still at the site of impact trying to keep eyes on the fantastical scene. He did n't have much meter to react, however, before one of the police officeholder, who had turned around and was trying to wave and blackguard bystanders away from the view, accidentally backed into the clay and tripped over it, his kick impacting the swollen and damaged belly of the thing as he fell backward over it. The force out was too outstanding for what was left. The remaining bystanders screamed and collectively took several zip steps back as what used to be Rebekah 's beautiful stomach tore spread and released it 's colorful contents onto the pavement. Length of gut, which was visibly ripped in multiple seat, unfurled out across several human foot, press having apparently built within the rancid container that was the corpse 's stomach cavum. The venter itself followed, ripped open and spilling away acid, along with half-digested food, that immediately began to eat away at the visceral it splashed onto. The corpse was quickly beginning to suit unrecognizable as something that had been a woman. The untested man felt something slop underneath his infantry as he staggered back, almost tripping over it, and with his cock still buldging to a stage where he feared someone may notice, he lifted his foot to reveal the surviving eyeball flattened and burst under his shoe.

Later, when he was done drying his weeping, when he was done explaining to the police force what he had seen, when he was done trying to infer why he had seen what he did, the Whitney Moore Young Jr. man from the balcony found warmth, solace, beaut once again in the privacy of his own shower, stroking himself and imagining that single mo, that unit of Max Planck time, in which he imagined Rebecca knew her lot. Shame washed over him but so did the combustion hear of the water system, rinsing away each pang of guilty conscience with a searing moving ridge of pureness over his tegument. As he recalled Rebecca, whose name he never actually learned, falling out of view, as he recalled her blood gushing out of her ilk cum, her knife on the pavement, her belly bursting, her eyeball under his foot… he came. His book binding arched, his wooden leg stretched out as far as they could, his psyche thrown back in a silent, open-mouthed sigh of pleasure, he held his hammer between two fingers in his right hand. He felt his balls tighten and that unbelievable buildup for just a instant before the star of rushing liquid pulsing through his shaft, filling his cocl before launching out in ropes across the shower and against the tile wall. He looked down at it and imagined it was the stemma and piss flowing from the cadaver, and the succeeding jet was even more powerful, even more satisfying, as his headspring began to swim from the flush of descent to his lower body in the heat. His cum coagulated in the intense burning heat if the shower, and he reached to turn the weewee off even as he continues to throb and launch milky white streams several inches forward. He felt exhausted as he stood there and watched his seed drip down toward the drainage but it continued to spurt in smaller and smaller pulses. What felt like the serious orgasm of his life. He stared at the cum rightfulness by the drain. The white globs that he 'd produced while the heat was still vivid bad turned into gooey balls that did n't want to go over the time of the waste pipe easily, when the fresher cum be still leaked was much more limpid and flowed down freely. It looked like the corpse 's mind and ancestry had as they flowed into the tempest drainpipe earlier.

The young man 's chest of drawers hurt, burning from the I tautness of his experience as he stepped out of the shower, still dripling wet, his quickly-softening semi-erect cock still pulsing pleasurably, little beads of cum wheeling over the congregation of his foreskin as he emerged from the bathroom into the cool air. He collapsed, naked and wet, onto his bed. His thighs, running with cum, mostly the coagulated hooey from the head, rubbed satisfyingly against the soft airfoil, sensitive along with his now almost entirely flaccid prick after his orgasm. He humped his bed quietly for a few minutes and enjoyed the cool air. Turning, he stared, half-asleep, at the overt threshold to his balcony. He was n't certainly what he was thinking about, really, but his cocl started to constrain against the covers.

Somewhere out there in clock time, she was still dying. Her last minute. He started to stroke himself again as he walked toward the balcony. Hard as a rock 'n' roll by the time he reached the rail, he climbed up onto it shakily. Terrified but exhilarated, he tried to maintain his balance as he stroked himself and imagined what the girl had experienced. The cool down air was thrilling. The Lapplander cool air she fell to her death in. He came again as he imagined ejaculating onto her clay. He continued to cum as he imagined dying with her. Adding his moment to the tapis of the universe.

On the street below, a youth woman stared at her understructure as she walked home after latterly fault at oeuvre. A noise caught her attention. A wet pop. She thought for a moment that it might be starting to rain, but when her center caught the wet position in nominal head of her it looked strange. The sound repeated as she watched more liquidity, now obviously viscous and slightly snowy, splattered in front of her. A drop hit her head and stung slightly, and she placed her hand onto her hair and pulled it back to unveil what was obviously cum. Shocked and afraid she looked up for the source and saw-

- The End