I stayed to watch the preparation: Marshall's body was laid on its back on the platform. His head was immersed in a large jar of preserving fluid — for three days the fluids would be absorbed into his tissues, leaving his skin and headfur moist, supple, and lifelike. Then, in his lone departure from the script, Bailey bent down and tenderly kissed Marshall's cock, licking off the last drops of his semen. At last he backed away and gestured for the older males to continue. Big Bill and Kevin picked up Marshall's body and transferred it to a gurney. They wheeled it off to a small truck. "Bondurant's fine taxidermy and fur preparation" was stenciled on the sides in a fancy script-like typeface.
As soon as they had transferred the body into the truck, I rushed into the house, unable to wait any longer. I took the stairs two at a time up to my second floor bedroom, locking the door behind me.
I yanked the closet door open and riffled frantically through my clothes. I wasn't sure what I was looking for but I knew I'd recognize it when I saw it. At last I found two never-worn terrycloth robes, one green and one white, both gifts from Father. Each had a belt.
I had no intention of experimenting with hanging myself. I would wait on that until I was at the Academy — they would tell me how to do it right, teach me all the safety rules. It would be such a tragedy if I were to kill myself accidentally in my ignorance, when in just a few months all would be revealed. But I had to, had to, just had to play out the fantasy in my mind. To feel what Marshall had felt. To know what it would be like in that role.
I quickly peeled off my clothes and stood naked in front of the full-length mirror. I had often looked at myself this way before, searching for signs of approaching manhood, excited about leaving childhood but dreading being called upon to act like a man when I didn't know how.
This was different.
I tried, as Marshall had asked, to see myself as another person would see me.
I really did have the same general body shape as Marshall. Marshall might have looked something like this three or four years ago. I slid my hands down the sides of my belly. It was flat enough, and probably some toning of my shoulder and back muscles, some firming up of my abs, would make it leaner. My legs could use some work as well. I stood on my toes. There, that looked... I inhaled. That was actually a little sexy.
I'll have to make a list of everything I need.
What now? My cock was hard, so hard it hurt, my stomach a mass of butterflies. I clasped my hands behind my back, and started thrusting with my hips. No good. "Wait," I thought. "I know what's missing."
I ran into my bathroom and grabbed a towel. I wrapped it around my neck, snugly but not choking — just tight enough that I could feel it all the way around. I put my hands behind my back again, wrists crossed as if they were tied. I began thrusting again. I watched myself in the mirror, my eyes half-closed, trying to project myself into Marshall. Trying to be Marshall.
Even without being choked, the feeling of floating I had felt with Marshall's hands around my neck returned. I felt suspended, dangling in midair, almost as if an invisible hand were rubbing my cock, rubbing, making it feel good. I thrust with my hips. Floating. Tingling. Feeling it in my crotch. I'm hanging. I'm hanging.
No orgasm had ever hit me like this before: an explosion in my body that shook me from my head to my toes, fire, pounding, pounding, waves blasting outward from my balls, each threatening to burst me apart as it reached the ends of my body and reflected back.
My knees buckled, and everything went black.
I came to gradually, disoriented, not remembering for a moment why I was sprawled on the floor. The towel around my neck reminded me. I smiled exhaustedly. Oh yeah. That's why.
I was you, Marshall. Just for a minute, I was you.
I spent the next two hours searching the Web for information on the Hanging Academy. Most of the time was on the Academy's own Web site, reading every page closely. Through my open window, the aroma of BBQ ribs floated into my room.
I saw a flurry of activity through the window. They were taking the food off the fire.
I started out of my room, almost dashing downstairs before realizing I was still naked. I laughed, then threw my clothes back on and went down to rejoin the party. After all that, I was hungry... ravenous.
I finished loading my plate with beans, potato salad, and a whole rack of spare ribs. I looked up to see Bailey standing beside me, smiling. "Come sit with me?"
My eyes went wide. "Sure!"
Bailey led me to a picnic table occupied only by Big Bill, who had enough food in front of him for an elephant. There was room for more people than just Bailey and me to join him, but nobody had. Big surprise.
"Hi, Bill." I nodded politely.
He looked up at me briefly, nodded, and continued eating.
"Do you always wear those shades?" I asked Bailey.
He laughed. "No, never. This is just part of the costume. I've got them on now because I'm supposed to stay in character the whole day."
I picked up a rib and started gnawing the meat off the bone. It felt more comfortable, somehow, to sit and eat with Bailey. After a while, the roo was starting to slow down. I'd eaten about half my ribs and was a little less ravenous, so I gestured towards the stage. "This whole thing was so... elaborate. Are there other scripts besides the 'Prince Scenario?' "
"Oh, yeah, several. Each boy usually has his favorite, one that really fits his fantasies better than the others. This was Marsh's."
"How do you guys last so long? There's some way... I mean, you've got to be breathing somehow. I don't know how, but there's no other way. Could Marshall have been breathing?"
Bailey gave me a mysterious smile. "I couldn't say."
"You can't tell me? Even though you'll be dead yourself in a week?"
"Wynn, the Academy means everything to me. It's my whole life. There are some secrets, obviously. Everybody knows that. But the only way you're going to find out what they are is by being a student. Part of me wants to tell you, but I never would. Even Marsh wouldn't have told you. It means that much to us."
"Is that why — I was just reading some stuff online — they don't let any first-year students leave the grounds, or communicate with the outside world? They didn't give a reason for that."
Bailey nodded. "After you've been there a year... survived a year, I guess I should say," he chuckled, "They trust that your commitment and loyalty to the Academy will outweigh any temptation to spill the secrets. The number of furloughs to see your family is still really limited — I suppose you read that too — but they trust us to that extent. No student has ever betrayed the trust. And I don't think any ever will."
I swallowed some potato salad and picked up another rib. "Can you tell me how you knew he was dead? I saw you give Andrew a signal."
Bailey nodded. "That part's not a secret. Your brother had to know about it, for example. Marsh's choker has a pulse sensor. I've got a monitor for it," he patted his pocket. "The Academy insists on making absolutely sure the buyer doesn't try to fake the boy's death. They're well aware of the temptation to keep a boy alive and then use him over and over for private hanging exhibitions. They're protecting their exclusivity."
He cut off another rib. As he chewed it, he seemed to be looking intently at me. The shades made it hard to tell. Swallowing, he said, "So now that you've seen Marsh hanged, you still want to go to the Academy?"
I shivered as I felt a dim echo of that orgasm. "More than anything ever in my life."I started on another rib. I was starting to fill up, but somehow still felt hungry.
I looked back; Bailey was smiling at me and said, "You know, you were really special to Marsh."
I gawked at him. "Not like you were! I could see the way you two looked at each other. I mean, I only knew him a couple of hours!"
Bailey smiled and shrugged. "None of us know each other very long. It's the depth of the feeling, not how long it lasts. Think about this. I saw that look he gave you, right at the end. He could have given his dad a last little Goodbye, I Love You look. Or me. He could see me out of the corner of his eye, and I could see him. The person he picked, for his last communication with the world, was you."
My jaw dropped. Tears started streaming from my eyes. I couldn't think of anything else to say except, "Thank you."
Bailey reached over and rubbed my back. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. Finally he said, "Listen, Marsh would want me to try to help you get into the Academy, and I thought about how I can. Remember I said I'm going to be hanged myself, next Saturday? Can you be there? And help out, like you did today?"
I just looked at him, hardly daring to breathe. "Really???"
Bailey grinned. "Of course, really! I'd love to have you there."
"Are you doing the Prince thing too?"
Bailey shook his head. "This one will be the 'Runaway Slave.' I'm the slave, and I'm captured and hanged as my punishment. It's a whole different character from the prince. I'll do a whole lot of crying and pleading. And instead of a robe, they'll bring me onstage in a cage. Coming out of that is like the moment where Marsh's robe came off. Steve, another boy in our graduating class, is going to be my executioner, so he'll be the one in black this time."
I was more excited than I could say. "Thank you so much for inviting me!"
Bailey smiled. "No problem at all." He rolled his eyes. "It's going to be a pretty draining day. Six guys went in together for the money to buy me. I'm supposed to do all six of them before they hang me. One at a time, I assume."
"Wow!"
"No kidding. Oh! Here was the whole point. When you go apply to the Academy, make sure and put on your application that you were a sub-assistant at today's hanging — they'll understand that to mean you gave non-technical help, nothing that required special training — and that you're scheduled to do it again next Saturday. That experience will really give you a leg up on the other applicants, especially on top of that recommendation Marsh wrote for you. I'll get something to write with later and give you the address... no, wait, the simplest thing would be for you to ride over there in the limo with us."
I felt as if my heart would burst. "That would be... so..." I ran out of words. I just threw my arms around Bailey and hugged him, hard.
After I let go at last, Bailey pointed to his plate with his fork. "I've got a big slice of pecan pie here. I think it's probably more than I can eat. Do you want to share it?"
Tears were leaking out of my eyes again. I nodded.
"Well, we've got one more piece of paperwork to do," Dad announced after the guests had left.
"What's that?" Andrew asked.
"The instructions for Bondurant's: what pieces to send where. You get his head, of course. And his Dad gets the one leg. The Academy gets a foot for their museum or whatever it is — that's in the contract.
Dad looked at me.
"Could I get his little finger, stuffed and mounted?"
Andrew looked up sharply and gave me his usual "Are you nuts?" look. "What do you want his finger for?"
I just looked at him. "Why do you care? You want it?"
He curled his lip and shook his head. "No. You can have it if you want it so much, moron."
"Oh, I'd like another patch or two of fur, too. I don't care from where. But I want his little finger. Make it the right hand."
Andrew sighed loudly. "Okay, whatever."