I scrunched around trying to get comfortable, sitting in the recessed alcove, looking through the metal grill into the Party Room. The admissions director, Mr. Bennett, was checking off names on a list as the boys entered the room, urging them to sit in the front rows. They must be nearly all here — I counted sixty-three boys now... no, here was another.
I wasn't allowed in the room for the orientation session — it was outside the Academy's secured "student" area. For the next year I wouldn't leave that area except for two of the four parties our class would host; there would be extra security at those parties because of mixing students and guests. But I wouldn't have missed this session for anything. I wanted to feel I was part of the class, not missing any experiences the other boys had, and that meant somehow attending the orientation, even though I already knew everything the rest of the boys were going to be told.
There was a pleasant murmur of voices from the boys, interrupted by frequent chuckles. A few of them obviously knew each other from high school, but most were strangers to each other, trying to get to know the anthros around them with whom they would become a quasi-family for the next three years. I shook my head in wonder. More than half of these boys wouldn't survive to graduation. I looked at the faces trying to guess, based on no information, which ones would make it.
Most of the boys were dressed very casually, though some wore semi-formal outfits. I suspected each had few other clothes to wear, except the ones they'd chosen for orientation. By now they'd either given most of their possessions away, to friends or younger brothers, or had boxed them up in preparation for doing so, as I had before leaving home. They would not be keeping any of their original clothes here, except a few outfits the staff would approve as being sexy enough to wear to the parties. Other than that, each would have only the official uniform shirts, shorts, briefs, socks, and sneakers. I had several sets of those, all identical, that I'd been wearing for a month.
Mr. Bennett looked down at his list to confirm that all the boys were present. He looked up at the grill where I was peeking in, and gave me a smile and a little wave. Then he signaled to Dean Porter, who rose and approached the lectern.
My heart pounded. This is it! I can start feeling like a student now, instead of an interloper!
The Dean looked out at the faces of eager and slightly nervous students, who gradually quieted after a few moments. He smiled.
"On behalf of the Hanging Academy, I'd like to welcome all of you to Orientation. I've met all of you individually within the last few months, and it's my pleasure to be able to congratulate you on the achievements that have earned you a place in our student body."
There were a few suppressed snickers, boys no doubt whispering to their neighbors some joke on the phrase "student body," but everyone settled down quickly, paying close attention to the Dean.
He continued. "I know that you all know why you are here. And there is very little I can tell you that you shouldn't already know. I trust that each of you has received our student handbook in the mail in the last month, and I hope each of you has read through it carefully. Did anyone not get one?" He waited to see if any hands were raised. None were.
He nodded. "Good. Now, I just want to say a few things to you personally, all of which you should know from reading the handbook. Foremost, I want to reiterate something you must each be very clear on. All of you who accept admission will be hanged. I hope that you can reach your goal of performing as an Academy graduate, but many of you will not. It is my hope, though, that every single one of you will, by your death, serve a greater purpose than simply culling our student body — or even than entertainment. Some of you will be hanged in classroom demonstrations, and you will help every one of your fellow students learn more about the craft and art that you will all be trying to perfect. Some of you will be chosen to die at one of our parties, in front of an audience who will appreciate your performance very much, and such a demise may be very nearly as satisfying to you as if you had done it as a graduate. But none of you, once you accept your admission to the Academy tomorrow morning, may withdraw as students. You are making a very serious commitment, which I hope each of you will carefully consider after you return home tonight. Discuss it with your parents, your siblings, and anyone else with whom you feel a special bond and trust.
"If you do decide to join us tomorrow, you will become slaves, the property of the Hanging Academy, as soon as you sign the admission forms. We will issue you your new uniforms and slave collars, your books and videos for your classes, your food cards for the cafeteria, your schedules of classes, and a room in the First Year dorm. That will take up quite a lot of the day, of course. The rest of your time tomorrow will be free, so that you can meet your roommate, get acquainted with him and your other colleagues, and become familiar with the grounds. Classes, of course, will start the following day, Monday."
I shivered with excitement. Just two days until my classes begin!
The Dean continued. "Once you have entered the secure area, you will not be allowed to leave it, but we do have quite a large campus, and you will find that the scope of your life is not really very limited." He smiled. "I think our upper-class boys would probably tell you that your studies won't leave you very much time to go anywhere anyway."
There was quite a lot of nervous laughter at that.
"Though you will have a great deal more freedom than almost any other slave, you should bear in mind that, once you join us, you will indeed be slaves. You have seen in the handbook that we do have strict rules of behavior, our Honor Code, and you have read about the penalties for Level 1 and Level 2 violations of the Code." He paused, probably as aware as I was of the sudden tension in the room. "Now, you'll be reassured to know there have been no Level 2 violations in the last..." He stopped to think. "Is it ten years now, Valentin?"
The boys turned to look at Mr. Bennett as he answered, "A little more than ten, yes."
The Dean nodded. "In the last ten years there have been no Level 2 violations, and I'm sure I can count on all of you to extend that interval into the indefinite future. I know all of you are responsible young anthros, and will uphold the Honor Code as a matter of course." He beamed at the students, who seemed to relax a bit.
"When you return tomorrow morning, you will sign in, and then we will conduct you into the student area to finish getting you checked in.
"Now, that completes our orientation session." He smiled. "We told you in the letter it would be brief. You can see you can trust us." More laughs. "Before I dismiss you, I'd like to see if any of you have questions."
A hamster in the second row raised his hand. "Not that I'm planning to get sick..." Some of the other boys laughed. "...But I saw in the handbook that I'll need a medical excuse from the nurse before I can miss classes. How... I'm not sure how to say this... How strict are you?"
The Dean nodded. "Jack, is it?"
The boy smiled at being remembered. "Yes, sir."
"I think I understand you. As far as enforcing the rule, we're very strict indeed, but I think you meant how hard is it to be certified as being actually ill. Is that right?" The hamster nodded. "All I can say at this point is that our nurse is very understanding. He is going to be looking for some sort of sign of illness, but I think the upper class boys will confirm that he doesn't just jump to the conclusion that you're malingering. Of course, as you've read, you'll be responsible for making up any missed assignments, workouts, or practices." He paused. "Have I answered your question?" The hamster nodded again. The Dean saw another hand raised, a slightly heavy dark-haired water buffalo this time. "Yes? It's... Parker, I think?"
The buffalo said, "Yes, sir. I've got a question about the heavy-boy program. You've said you hope to get two or three boys in each class to volunteer for that?"
The Dean nodded. "Yes, we do on occasion get requests for a larger graduate to put on a show. That requires, on the part of the boy, a special regimen in addition to the training all students go through. Over the three year training period, the heavy-boy students go through additional physical exercises, to promote a greater degree of muscular development — they actually have quite low fat ratios in their bodies — including, of course, further work to strengthen their neck muscles. They also each have a special diet to support their participation in the program. No student is forced to join the program, and in some classes we have three or four, and in some classes none at all. I take it you are considering volunteering for that?"
The buffalo smiled. "Yes, sir."
The Dean returned his smile. "You can sign on for that tomorrow, when you check in." He looked around again. "Any other questions?"
A jackal near the end of a row, on the side nearer me, raised his hand. He was truly stunning — he didn't look like Marshall, but he had that same quality about him. The jackal was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, now raising one arm briefly to signal the Dean before resuming his posture.
The Dean saw him. "Yes... Maverick?"
The boy nodded briefly, seeming to take it as obvious that the Dean would remember him. "I've seen the rules about class participation, but would we be allowed to skip a class if we already feel like we know the material?"
The Dean looked briefly irritated, but regained his smile. "No, you'll be expected to attend all classes, other than those from which, as we've discussed, you've been excused due to illness. Your presence, if you are familiar with the material being discussed, can be of inestimable worth to those students less familiar with it, since you can share your knowledge with them in class discussions."
The boy, Maverick, sighed, quietly saying "Yes, sir," in a somewhat grudging way.
I shook my head slightly. The quality in Maverick that reminded me of Marshall only extended to his looks. I wondered if there would be an attitude problem. I tentatively assigned Maverick to the "won't make it" category.
The Dean looked around. "Are there any other questions?" After waiting a few seconds, he smiled. "Well, that concludes today's program, then. I look forward to seeing all of you tomorrow. All of you must be present, here, in this room, not later than 9 am. Until then, I wish you a good day." He smiled at the room generally as boys began standing, some of them now walking up the aisles to the exit as others started talking in groups.
I left the alcove and made my way back to my room. The First Year wing in the dorms was nearly deserted, most of the students having cleared out their things to move to their new rooms in the Second Year wing. I looked in Larry's and Leo's room, in which the staff had already exchanged their one large bed for the two standard smaller beds, and grinned at seeing Larry filling a box with the last of his possessions. "You got your new uniforms!" I exclaimed. Larry was wearing the aqua-colored shorts of a second year student.
Larry beamed at me. "And the collar! Come and look at it!" He reached up to push up his metal collar a little higher for me to see.
I came over and bent slightly to get a better look, reading the collar out loud. "Larry - Property of the Hanging Academy." I looked back up into Larry's excited face. "That is so cool! You finally got your name on it!"
Larry giggled. "So — Slave Boy," giving me a little dig to emphasize the difference in our collars, "How did the orientation go?"
I smiled and shrugged. "Same as always, I imagine. You probably remember what it's like. Say, did you guys have any... like... attitude trouble in your class? Any I'm-just-way-above-all-you-peons kind of things?"
Larry rolled his eyes. "Well, you know there's always going to be one or two like that. The ones who cruised through high school and thought they were always hot stuff. Or they've done hanging before, and they figure they know all about it. Why, did you see one?"
"Maybe... I don't know. I should probably give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll start meeting them all tomorrow, I guess."
"Yeah... Oh!!" The lemur's eyes suddenly went big. "I just thought. You'll be totally by yourself in this whole empty wing tonight! Everybody in our class has moved!" All the students I had met in the First Year — now Second Year — class had been eager to change rooms as soon as they were allowed to. Since the Second Year class always had fewer students than they had originally entered with, the Second Year wing had fewer rooms — and they were a little larger than the First Year rooms.
Larry shook his head. "Look, Wynn, you just can't stay there by yourself. I'd be so spooked! Spend the night with me and Leo. We'll get a rollaway." Since there was often an odd number of students in a class, it frequently was necessary for a student to share temporarily with two others, at least until another member of his class was hanged. Every dorm wing had a few extra rollaway beds for that reason. "I need to get some hanging practice done, and you can help with that. Then we'll get some popcorn and watch a movie. It'll be fun!"
I grinned. "Like you have to talk me into it? Oh, after classes start, I can still come over and see you guys sometimes, right? You won't be all too far above little First Year wimps?"
Larry smiled archly. "Well, of course we'll be above you, dear. Except when you want to be on top."
They were both overcome with laughter. I had done some sexual play with several members of the class, but most often with Larry or Leo, my first and closest friends in the First Year... no, I reminded myself, Second Year class.
Larry sighed, and picked up his box, taking a last look around the room. "I guess I'm done here. Want to come down and see our new room?"
I shook my head. "I'll be down there after dinner, okay? First I want to do a little reading. While it's really, reeelly quiet. I'm trying to get ahead a little for classes on Monday."
"Okay." Larry leaned toward me and kissed me. "We're in room 12. About seven?"
I gave Larry's hand a squeeze. "See you then."
Larry shifted his grip on the box. He looked around the tiny room as he walked to the door. "Tell whoever's in here next they've got a lot to live up to."
I followed Larry out of the room. "I'll tell them it's a bad luck room. Everybody who lived in it got hanged." I kissed Larry and gave him a little shove, laughing. "Okay, get out of here. This is my territory now."
Larry laughed. "Drink in the ambiance of your superiors." He rearranged his grip again on the box and walked down the hallway.
I walked down to my room. Inside it, I pulled my History of Hanging book from the shelf, my textbook for the course of the same name. I was just starting it. It would be fascinating.
Larry climbed up on the platform, naked, the noose brushing against his shoulder. I stepped up beside him, grinning, swinging the end of the rope casually in my hand. First year students often used handcuffs to secure their hands behind their back, but from the second year on, ropes were always used, though they took longer. I loved helping my friends with hanging. Larry crossed his wrists behind his back so I could tie them.
Leo looked up from below us. "I want to see how you do with setting the noose by yourself, Wynn."
I bit my lip and looked at Larry. "Is that okay with you, Larr?"
Larry nodded. "You've done it enough with Leo checking. If you're way off I'll tell you, but otherwise I won't say anything."
I took a deep breath. "Okay. Leo, just be ready on the emergency button, okay?" The ring in the ceiling from which the noose was suspended was held in place by a mechanism, the "rope drop," which let go instantly if a red button on the wall was pushed. Usually a hanging boy signaled with his foot if he wanted the platform back up, but if he seemed to be in trouble his roommate would push the button for immediate release.
I pulled some slack out from the coils of rope in the hangman's knot and dropped the rope over Larry's head, afterwards tightening it in place. I spent at least a minute trying to get the knot exactly where it should be, deciding finally I couldn't do it any better. I looked at Larry, wondering if he might yell at me for forgetting everything they'd taught me. "Is that okay?"
A tiny smile flicked the corner of Larry's mouth upward. "I'm not telling. You'll just have to wait and see if I live through this."
I gave him an exasperated look; I wanted to punch Larry's arm but not refrained, not wanting to break his concentration so close to the hanging. I suppressed the feeling of wanting to fiddle with the knot a little more, and hopped down from the platform. "If you die, I am going to be so pissed at you!"
Larry snorted, and looked down at Leo. "Tell me when it's eight minutes."
Leo nodded. "Yeah, but I'm bringing the platform back up after nine no matter what."
Larry nodded at me. "Wynn, you pull it."
They had let me pull the lever before, but it still felt like a privilege. Once more, I bit back the instinctive question, "Are you ready?" It was never asked at a real hanging. It was the hanging boy's job to be ready. I could see that Larry's body was very still, calm, waiting, breathing slowly and deeply. I reached out and pulled.
My eyes were glued to Larry as the platform on which he stood slowly sank toward the floor. It thrilled me, every time, to be standing so close, watching the slack vanish from the rope, the boy pulled up onto his toes and finally losing contact with the platform, hanging by his neck just a few feet from me. I backed off slightly to give Larry some room to kick.
I focused my attention on Larry's head, watching the rolling motion he made with it as he wriggled at the end of the noose. I had known from watching Marshall's hanging that the head roll must be something significant. Larry had explained to me that it was the most important part of the art — hard to master while doing all the other movements, but crucial to success. As I had suspected at Marshall's and Bailey's hanging, the boy being hanged was actually breathing, and it went beyond that. As he rolled his head from side to side, left, back, right, back, left, repeating, his weight was pressing hard against the loop of rope around his neck on one side, and the pressure was minimized on the opposite side. When the back of his neck was pressing hardest against the rope, the front eased up enough for him to draw a breath through his compressed windpipe, while rolling left and right eased the pressure on his carotid arteries enough to keep some blood flowing to his brain. The rolling of the head had to be done in a rhythm that was compatible with the boy's heartbeat, but practice gave the boy a feeling for that — he wasn't so much literally feeling the tempo of his heart, more... just learning what felt right to him. That was one of the many reasons it took so much practice to become truly expert at it.
Another part of it, also acquired only through long practice, was making the jerking of his legs look sufficiently random that it took the attention of onlookers away from the more organized head-rolling. In a sense, it was similar to a magician's misdirection: getting the audience looking at the wrong thing so that they missed how the trick was done.
The hanging couldn't be prolonged indefinitely, even in theory. The grip of the noose around the neck did interfere with breathing and blood flow, so the hanging boy couldn't keep going forever. But if he did his job well, he could buy an astonishing amount of time while making do with the resources of air and blood that he did have.
As always, I got hard as I watched Larry kicking and writhing, and felt myself dribbling pre-cum; I'd need to change my briefs later. Certainly not now, though. I couldn't take my eyes away from the enthralling sight of my dangling friend. I started to feel a phantom pressure against my own neck, and a breathlessness that intensified my arousal.
How will it feel to do it myself, I wondered, for the hundredth time. Will it be even more intense than when Marshall and Dean Porter choked me? Will I be able to concentrate on the movements I have to make if I get that caught up in the sensations?
I loved watching Larry's muscles straining, as if he was really fighting for his life. Larry's neck muscles bulged, not yet as strong as Marshall's, but with a year of practice behind him to build them. Even without the breathing trick, he could last much longer in the noose than any normally developed person, and could tolerate the need for those muscles to support his body's entire weight for astonishing periods.
At last Leo said, "Eight minutes." Larry looked down, managing a smile with some effort, and waggled his right foot, the signal to bring the platform back up. Leo gestured with his head toward the lever. I quickly pushed it, in the opposite direction from before, and the platform rose gradually, to the point that Larry was able to put his weight on it. I jumped back up onto it and loosened the knot on the noose.
Larry, breathing raggedly and deeply, closed his eyes, his lips curved upward into an exhausted smile. When he had recovered his breath sufficiently, he opened his eyes and looked at me. "I am so horny right now!"
I chuckled. "What, is it my job to fix that too?"
Larry kissed me. "Get your clothes off and we'll see how you do."
The Next Morning
I woke to the murmur of voices in the hallway. I tried to stay still; I didn't want to wake up Leo, who was lying full-length on top of me, the side of his head nuzzling against mine. I loved the feel of Leo's naked body covering my own, like a warm, silky, heavy blanket. I had only meant to close my eyes for a moment last night after Leo and I made love, but I must have been more tired than I'd thought. The excitement of hanging Larry, of having sex with him afterwards, laughing all through the movie as I shared popcorn with both boys, then discovering that Leo wanted to take a turn with me in bed, all took a toll on my energy.
We'd never managed to get the rollaway bed pulled out.
I heard a suppressed giggle from beyond the door, and knew something must be up. Leo must have heard it this time, as he began stirring, accidentally jabbing his elbow into my side. I heard him mumble "Oh, sorry, Larr. I mean Wynn," sleepily, and felt him start to push himself up.
Something pulled on my neck, and Leo dropped back on top of me. We both said "Ow," irritably, and Leo muttered "What the hell?"
I frowned, puzzled. "Our collars got stuck together somehow. Hold still." I reached up to feel along the metal surfaces, trying to figure out what projection on them could possibly have snagged. My fingers found a loop of string, wound several times around both collars, tying them together. Moving my feet, I suddenly realized my ankles were tied as well — not to each other, but my left to Leo's right, my right to his left. I groaned, muttering "I can't believe this," and shouted, "Larry!"
From just beyond the doorway, Larry almost fell into the room, breathless from trying to keep from laughing out loud, finally releasing it. Behind him, at least half a dozen of the other boys looked in over his shoulder, all laughing in delight, watching Leo and me try to figure out what we could move. The attached collars and string-bound ankles were the extent of our bondage, but it was hard to find a way to move. Leo had to tip his head back and brush his nose past mine to look at the doorway, a wry grin on his face. "You know I'll get you back sometime."
"You and me both, Leo," I said, my hands on Leo's hips, trying to decide if the bed was wide enough to turn Leo off to the side without him falling off the bed and pulling me along. It wasn't. The boys hadn't had time yet to get the two narrow beds replaced with one wider one. "Larry, what am I supposed to do with a naked boy stuck on top of me?"
Larry almost collapsed on the floor, totally overcome with panting laughter now. He managed to sputter, "You guys were so sound asleep, I couldn't believe it! I might as well have hogtied you while I was at it!" The boys behind him laughed louder.
I sighed and closed my eyes. This was part of the package when getting to be friends with Larry and Leo. I finally started laughing too, pointing my finger at Larry. "Larry, I'm going to turn my imagination on full time. I will get you back. I'll go easier on you if you get us out of this now."
Larry tried to pout, losing it several times to giggles. "Well, if you're going to be that way..." He got out a pair of scissors and snipped the string around our collars, then freed our ankles.
Leo pushed himself up with his arms, and I slid out from underneath. I bent to retrieve my clothes from the floor.
Amos, a ratel, said in a mock-belligerent voice, "Hey, what's a white uniform doing in this wing?"
I smiled as I pulled my shorts up. "The Dean sent me here to get all the Second Years to shape up. You know what they say, the students keep getting smarter every year."
Amos resumed giggling. "Not this year. I heard them say, 'Hey, what's left in the bottom of the barrel to scrape up?'" He and the other boys finally retreated, still giggling, down the hallway, knowing the show was over.
I slipped on my socks and shoes. Leo, still naked, was rubbing the last bits of sleep out of his eyes and yawning. I put my arm across Leo's back, leaned over and kissed him. "I'm going back to my room to brush my teeth and pee. Tell Larry... To whom I'm not speaking at present," I added with arched eyebrows.
Laughing again, Larry sat on the bed next to me. "You're not really mad, are you? Didn't you ever do something because you couldn't resist? You guys looked so cute like that!"
I put both arms around Larry and leaned my head on Larry's shoulder. "You'll never know if I'm mad until my revenge is complete. Breakfast after I get back?"
"Sure."