Sorry yesterday's installment was mis-numbered! There's no way to edit on here so I've just picked up today's from the correct number, sorry for any confusion! Enjoy!

Pt 5

The drive to the museum the next morning seemed even longer than the drive home had the day before. Dinah was extremely eager to meet the team who would be preserving and mounting her skin. Her head was full of questions. How many would there be? Would they be men or women? Would they be friendly or very businesslike? She hoped that they would be willing to explain the process to her and talk about what was going to happen.

That morning, her mum had helped her apply the special cream for the second time. It was some years since she had needed any help with bathing or washing herself but, given how important it was that no part of her lovely olive skin be missed, she had happily agreed to the help. Although she did not intend admitting it to her parents, the feeling of someone’s hands rubbing the cream all over her body while someone else took photographs of her provoked a very pleasing tingle. Now, in the car, the anticipation of what was to come made it hard for her to sit still – there was an itch between her legs in desperate need of scratching!

“Stop fidgeting!” Mrs Martinez laughed, interpreting her daughter’s wiggling as simply a sign of impatience. “We’ll be there soon!” A few minutes later they arrived at the museum. The confirmation email they received the night before had explained that, while the actual euthanasia and preparation of the specimen must be carried out in private with only the relevant personnel, Dinah’s parents were welcome to attend this initial session and that it would take approximately ninety minutes. It was still quite early in the morning and the car park was fairly empty so Mr Martinez had no trouble finding a space. The volunteer at the welcome desk, a sweet-faced lady in her late sixties, explained that the Director was not there that day but that the preservation team were all set up and waiting for them in the room upstairs usually used by school parties to eat their packed lunches. Dinah knew the room well, having eaten in there at least three times before. She wondered if it was also the room where she would die?

The little girl lead the way, happily bounding through the corridors to the stairs, her long black hair swishing from side to side as she bounced along. Reaching the room, she stopped short. A notice on the door stated:

“Private Meeting in Progress. Please Knock and Wait Before Entering”

Dutifully, Dinah knocked on the door and waited, her parents standing close behind her. The door was opened almost immediately by a young woman in a red checked shirt and brown hair in a messy bun. She smiled warmly when she saw them.

“Ah!” she grinned, “You must be Dinah! Is this your mum and dad?” Dinah nodded. “Lovely! Come on in, everyone!” She held the door open and ushered the Martinez family inside. The team seemed to consist of four people – the woman who had answered the door, a rather nerdy-looking young blonde man with floppy hair and thick glasses, a handsome black man who looked to be the oldest of the group, probably around the age of Dinah’s parents, and another lady around the same age as the one who had opened the door who looked to be either Indian or Pakistani. They all introduced themselves but, as always, Dinah found the new names difficult to take in, especially as she was only half listening.

As much as she wanted to be polite, she could not help but be distracted by the intriguing paraphernalia that had been brought into the room. As well as the usual chairs and tables which had been pushed to the side there was what Dinah took to be a measuring device – a free-standing plank of wood with a sliding bar fixed near the top and increments marked out on the trunk. There was what appeared to be a featureless and oddly thin-looking shop mannequin around her height and a selection of tape-measures, note-books and cameras on one of the tables, behind which stood a photographic background like the ones school photographers use but with a grid marked out on it but, most intriguing of all was the taxidermied bodies of the younger girl and the boy Dinah’s own age that had been brought up from the display downstairs, presumably as a visual aid to explain what they would be doing to Dinah herself in a few days time.

“Now, just to run through a couple of things,” the woman who had answered the door explained once the introductions were out of the way, “this session is as much for you as it is for us. We want you to enjoy it. Please do ask any questions as they occur to you and if you’re getting tired, or cold, or just need a break, please do say, is that okay?” Dinah smiled and nodded. “Oh and I’m afraid I must ask you not to discuss anything you see or hear today with anyone outside this room, that applies to you too.” She looked up at Dinah’s parents who smiled politely and nodded their understanding. “Our process is patented and we need to protect our copyright. That’s partly why there’s the sign on the door, as well as for your dignity of course.” Dinah wondered what they could possibly ask of her that was less dignified than standing stark naked in front of hundreds of gawping tourists but she was grateful for their consideration.

“Are photos allowed?” Mr Martinez asked, holding up his camera, “Only we’re making a sort of photo-journal of this whole process with Dinah so we can have a sort of memento.”

“Photographs for your own personal use are fine.” The woman smiled. “We just ask that they not be shared on any social media platform or published in any other way. I will need the three of you to sign these non-disclosure forms.” The blonde man who was clearly the most junior in status as well as being the youngest on the team handed out clipboards with forms on them. All three signed in the indicated boxes without paying too much attention to the forms themselves. Mrs Martinez skim-read hers but it seemed to be fairy standard – much the same as the woman had said but expressed in convoluted legalese. Once the forms were signed, they handed them back.

“Oh, there is one more thing before we begin.” The woman looked a little uncomfortable. “We’re sorry to impose this rule but again it’s to do with the preservation of patents, plus it’s probably better for you too,” she smiled uneasily at Dinah, “so you don’t get too hung up on it over the next few days. You understand that you will need to be euthanised in order for us to preserve your skin?” Dinah nodded and frowned, wondering why everyone seemed so obsessed with checking that she understood people couldn’t live without their skin? It was not as if she was three! “I’m afraid we cannot discuss the exact process of termination with you until the day itself. But I do promise you that every step is utterly necessary and as humane as it can be made.” Dinah shrugged. In a few days time she was going to be killed. The exact details as to how honestly didn’t interest her all that much. She was far more interested in learning how her pretty body was going to be preserved and displayed for generations to come. “So, I know I said to ask questions but that’s the one question I can’t answer. Not today anyway. Everyone on the same page?” The whole family nodded and the woman looked relieved. “Great! Then let’s get started. First of all, Dinah, I’m going to need you to remove your clothes.”

While her parents found chairs and sat themselves off to one side where they would still have a good view of all that was going on but would hopefully not be in the way, Dinah did as she was asked. Pulling off her T-shirt, she looked around for where to put it, thinking to lay it over the back of a chair or something but the young intern, as he presumably was, brought her a cardboard box to put her things in for safe-keeping. Perching on the edge of a table, the topless girl untied her trainers and pulled off her socks then stood up and dropped her denim shorts before wiggling out of her light pink panties. With all her clothes safely in the box she stood naked and smiling with all eyes in the room on her. The three senior team members all rose from their seats and circled her appraisingly. Dinah couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at their penetrating gazes but she knew that they were just doing their job, taking their first opportunity to form an impression of the specimen they had been tasked with preserving. The black man leaned in close to the Indian woman and spoke quietly while pointing at Dinah’s waist. The woman nodded and replied equally softly, pointing towards Dinah’s feet. The nude little girl wondered what they were discussing. The brown-haired woman who seemed to be the leader of the team joined them in their huddle.

“Okay,” she knelt down to talk to Dinah while the other two began readying various pieces of equipment, “it’s absolutely no problem for today but from tomorrow we’re going to need you to only wear very loose-fitting clothes, and no underwear, I’m afraid. Stick to summer dresses or night-shirts, anything without elastic, and, if you go out, wear flip-flops on your feet. No socks.”

“Sure!” Dinah smiled, getting a cheeky thrill at the idea of going to the park or the supermarket with no panties on under her floaty summer dress. “But why?”

“See here?” Dinah looked down to see where the woman was gently touching her skin. Where the top of her denim shorts had been there was a slightly red indentation, a very mild pressure-sore. “The moment you die, your body stops being able to heal itself. Things like this usually go away in under two hours, they’ll probably be gone by the time you get dressed again, but if you showed up on the big day like that and we had to wait before we could proceed because of it, it could cause quite a big delay and maybe mean that we didn’t get finished in time.” Dinah nodded. “Down here is the same.” The woman crouched lower and ran her finger around the lower part of Dinah’s calve. “Where the tops of your socks were.” Dinah lifted her other foot to take a better look. She had seen these indentations before of course, after getting undressed for the bath or bed, but had never thought too much of it. She totally understood the need to avoid them, however. It would be so embarrassing to stand for a hundred years or more with sock-marks round her legs because of her own carelessness!

“Come over here, would you please?” The black man called to Dinah who obediently trotted over to the device that seemed to be for measuring height. “Okay, stand with your back to the post, please.” He instructed. “Straight as you can with head forwards and feet flat on the ground. That’s it!” He smiled then unclipped the sliding bar and lowered it until it rested on the top of her head. Once he was satisfied that it was accurately positioned, he locked it into place. “Great!” He smiled. “Just step out for me now?” Dinah did so and he recorded the height at which the bar had stopped.

Next he took a tape measure and asked her to stand in a relaxed pose while he took what felt like every possible measurement of her body. Dinah couldn’t help but giggle a little – it reminded her of when she was being fitted for a bridesmaid’s dress for her cousin’s wedding, although of course this time the measurements were for something that needed to go inside her body rather than outside. She knew she should have felt embarrassed having her nude body interrogated in this way but the man was so professional and relaxed in his approach that it actually felt quite normal. After all, she had spent more of the last two days naked than clothed that it was really starting to become no big deal!

Once the man was done with his measurements, the Indian lady called her over to the photography area and had her stand in a number of different poses against the grid while she took what seemed to be hundreds of photos with a tripod-mounted camera. The then took a smaller, handheld camera and took an equal number of close-ups of every part of Dinah’s face and body. Something this felt far more intrusive than the measuring but the pretty young girl put up with it without complaining, knowing that it was all part of what she had signed up for. Mr Martinez was taking his own photos from his seat at the side but resolved to ask if they might have copies of some of these official ones once the process was completed.

Next, Dinah was asked to sit while the intern held up glass eyes in various shades of brown next to Dinah’s own so the team could compare. There seemed to be some dispute as to which shade closest matched the girl’s real eyes, with some members favouring the darker brown but others suggesting a slight hint of green. In the end, to break the deadlock, Mrs Martinez was called over to make the final choice, selecting the eyes that had a hint of green the way she knew her daughter’s did in the right light.

“Fantastic!” The brown-haired woman smiled as the selection was noted and the samples taken away. I think that’s all we need for the moment. Now, let’s go over here and I’ll show you what will happen once we’ve removed your skin!”