We'd spent days discussing how to set the noose around Larry's neck. Ted, of course, had no training in placing the rope for hanging so as to make the show last as long as possible,. I'd suggested teaching Ted to do it, but we decided that could break Ted's fantasy. It seemed unavoidable that at some point Maverick or I would have to emerge to help, even though it would spoil the illusion that Ted and "Zeke" were alone. At last, Larry had proposed that he adjust the noose himself. The only reason it was never done that way during a show was that, in any of the standard scenarios, the Hanging Boy was led to his fate with his hands already tied. But we realized that Ted would be happiest of all with the idea that Zeke could be made to hang himself. Ted had enthusiastically agreed. Exactly how to force Zeke to hang himself — was left for Ted to figure out.

Larry was pretending that he had no idea what he was doing, his careful adjustment of the rope seeming to be a stall for time. He at last tightened the loop of rope around his neck, and whimpered again, giving Ted a pleading look. The meerkat simply smiled, gestured toward Larry's waist and said, "Hands."

Larry had practiced with the metal ring. Ted had sent it to the Academy along with the cuffs, to practice with. About four inches in diameter, it was meant to be threaded through the rings in the cuffs and then snapped closed.

Larry removed it now from his waist belt and looked it over carefully. After a minute or so, he took it behind his back and inserted the open ends through the handcuff rings. He stood, then, his teeth moving back and forth across his lip as if he would wear a hole in it. "Ed-Edward... please...?"

Ted had been steadily breathing harder in the last few minutes. I suddenly wondered if the meerkat was going to faint. He managed to gasp out, "You've been a good boy. Don't blow it now."

Almost convulsively, Larry brought the two ends of the locking ring together. The loud snap of the lock engaging seemed to echo in the room. Larry moaned and tried to jerk his hands apart as if he'd changed his mind.

I nudged Maverick and pointed at Larry's belly on the monitor. His penis was flaccid, completely concealed in its sheath. "Meditation," I whispered.

"Yep," Maverick replied, "You remember he was always top of his class."

Maverick was right. We learned to meditate at the Academy, and any Third Year was better at it than most amateur Zen devotees. We all knew: any Hanging Boy is into pain at least a little, but your customer might decide to do something that is distasteful to you, or that hurts more than you want. Meditation provides a way to get through that without spoiling the mood for you or your customer. And Larry had consistently scored top in his class. I'd heard about it from Leo: when Larry was meditating, you could set off a firecracker right behind him and he wouldn't even twitch. And he could get through his memorized scripts without losing his alpha state or forgetting a single word of his lines. This time, Larry was using it to suppress his sexual excitement at feeling a noose around his neck, at knowing that his final hanging, the culmination of his career, was only seconds away.

Ted twirled his finger. "Turn around. I want to make sure you've done it right."

Larry turned, holding his hands as far apart as he could get them and trying to yank them free, in a demonstration that they were, indeed, trapped behind him.

Ted's right hand was already gripping his cock, his mouth open, eyes wide. His left hand played idly with his belly fur.

Without looking, I reached and found Maverick's arm. I whispered, "Honey, do you mind if I go up to watch through the door?" I felt a strong need to see it really happening, not through a video monitor.

Maverick smiled and kissed my cheek. "Go. I'll finish up here and join you."

I sat on the floor facing the door, seeing Larry from the side, Ted in his chair, pointing toward the platform. "When you're ready, kick that lever forward. The surface will sink slowly."

Larry considered the lever and whimpered once more. "I know. I saw a hanging like that." I smiled at the understatement.

Larry went on, "Edward..." He paused for several seconds. "I just need to know one thing."

Edward grinned, his hand stopping, giving his cock a momentary rest. "One last thing, Zeke?"

Larry gulped and nodded convulsively. "Will this... Will this make things right?"

Ted started to laugh, and stopped himself, giving conscious thought to the question. "I'd have to say yes to that, Zeke."

"Zeke" seemed to relax. "Will you tell my friends that? Leave a note with my body or however you want to do it, that says I made things right?"

Ted nodded. "I'll do that."

"Really. Promise me you'll do that."

Ted nodded again, solemnly. "I promise."

Larry looked down at the lever again. "And... and leave my body close to Sam's house. I want him to be the one that finds me. He's my best friend and knows what I want done."

Ted smiled again and resumed rubbing, moaning softly as his hand moved over his best spots. "Will do."

I laughed suddenly, as I saw something that neither Ted nor the camera could see. Larry was wriggling his fingers behind him in the "everything's cool" signal, and, as if to put an exclamation point on his communication, he clenched his right fist, holding his thumb straight up.

I would have to tell Maverick later.

Larry's face though, showed nothing but resignation, as he reached to the side with his left foot and kicked the lever.

I glanced at the camera, and saw the small red light on it wink out. A few seconds later, Maverick joined me in front of the curtain. I took Maverick's left hand, covering it with both of mine and pulling it into my lap, twining my fingers through Maverick's, all without taking my eyes off the sinking figure of my longest-surviving friend at the Academy.

The rope went taut. I heard the slight choking sound that accompanied the noose tightening around Larry's neck. It suddenly occurred to me that I would never hear that uncanny impression of Zeke Hillcrest's voice again.

There came a sighing gasp from Ted, who leaned forward briefly and then settled back once more into the cushion, one hand now working industriously on his cock, the other playing with his right nipple. As Larry began kicking, each of Ted's breaths came out as a low moan.

Larry quickly began making the moves he had worked out with Maverick and Shaw, emphasizing his desperation to find something solid to stand on underfoot. Swinging his legs back and forth, he held them stiffly straight and bent them only at the hip, his toes pointed downward. Then he kept his whole body rigid for a time, his only movement a quivering in his legs as he tried to reach just another inch further downward. The top of the platform was much farther than that out of reach, but he was trying anyway. Then came a small scissor kick with his legs, and another, and another. Then he lifted one legs at a time, as if he were trying to climb a stairway of air to lift himself. He used the scissor kicking to turn himself slowly, letting Ted see him from behind, his back and arm muscles rippling with the straining effort to free his hands. Slowly he turned back to face Ted again. We'd discussed whether Larry should do the traditional turn at all, knowing Ted would want to watch Larry's Zeke-face as much as possible. We eventually decided that the added stimulation of giving Ted a more complete look at Zeke's struggles would more than make up for a momentary loss of the frontal view.

It was all nearly too much for Ted, stroking himself slowly, moaning continuously. I started worrying that Ted would faint and miss a crucial part of the show — the cameras were now turned off —Ted suddenly snatched his hand away from his cock as if he had literally burned it, and used both hands to grip the arms of the chair. He couldn't stop his hips thrusting slowly, but his conscious mind had won the struggle with his instincts. His fingers nearly ripped through the fabric of the chair ; he sat stiffly, breathing raggedly, watching his nemesis dangle through wide, unblinking eyes.

Larry had become erect during this sequence. He had obviously decided that Edward would be too distracted by now, and anyway an erection was a natural reaction to hanging, even for an unwilling victim like "Zeke."

Larry cycled through his sequence of desperation moves a second time, and then, about sixteen minutes into his show, he began Act 2.

We'd decided that though watching Zeke in a losing fight for his life would be Ted's fondest wish, and that Larry should give that the highest priority, there would come a point where Ted's sexual arousal would overwhelm all rational thought. I'd stolen a look at Maverick and nodded when Ted had suddenly ceased masturbating earlier, evidence that he had, as expected, not yet reached that point. The timetable that we had designed for Larry's show had anticipated that the tipping point would occur about... now.

Larry was one of the best, other than Maverick himself, at performing Maverick's sensual noose-dancing, though I could easily see signs that Larry was getting tired. But he seemed to reach deep within himself for a burst of renewed energy, and his first hip thrusts drew a sudden strangled gasp out of Ted that was unlike his earlier moaning. His mouth dropping wide open, Ted suddenly started rubbing his chestfur with his left hand, while his right hand dropped once more between his legs. Ted would not be able to stop himself this time. That effort of will was far beyond him now.

Larry, with the advantage of his unprecedented audience of one, was able to focus his performance exclusively on Ted. Once again he was Ted's extra-attentive lover, and once again the mindless slave existing only to stimulate his master. Watching Ted's face, I was sure that images from the last two days were rolling past his mind's eye.

Larry was sweating from the effort of his performance, but he was also producing small drops of pre-cum. His hip thrusts were becoming less practiced, more real.

I noticed a sudden change in Ted's movement. He tensed, his entire body quivering, and let loose the loudest scream yet, as jets of semen spurted from his cock to splatter as far as five feet from the chair. I looked back at Larry; a final convulsion of orgasm shook him from head to toe, cum spurting and spurting, some of it splattering on the door I was looking through. I felt it... felt it... lived it... my own body quaking, my mouth wide open in a silent version of Ted's characteristic scream...

I became aware that Maverick's hand had been rubbing my cock through my shorts. Maverick's uniform shorts, like mine, had a wet spot where he'd been rubbing himself with his other hand. He was breathless and sweating from his climax.

Larry's legs twitched listlessly a few more times, and the usual stream of urine flowed from his cock onto the platform. And then he was still, hanging limp at last, the residual swaying and twisting starting to die down. Ted was slumped in the chair, equally limp, his arms on the armrests. His eyes were wide, blinking slowly, still looking at Larry, his lips parted as he breathed raggedly and deeply.

Maverick, his voice shaken and hoarse, spoke in bursts as he tried to catch his breath. "Twenty-three... minutes... that's really pretty... good for all the... extra energy he... had to use up... at the start with... that choreography... and I'm pretty sure he... timed his orgasm to... go with Ted's... that was really..." He groped for an adjective.

I completed Maverick's thought, choking out the word, "Fantastic."

Maverick nodded. He gestured toward Larry with his head. "Should we go out there now?"

"Not sure. Ted's kind of in a trance. Let's not break it." Maverick nodded.

Maverick suddenly sat up. "Oh! Camera. We can turn it back on now."

"Yeah. Wait! It just came on. I guess Bill did it."

"Good." Maverick's face regained its normal color as the flush of orgasm departed. He rested his head on my shoulder. I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed it. "I guess we just wait."

Larry's slight pendulum swinging eventually ceased, and time itself seemed to stop with him. Ted was as utterly motionless as the hanging body before him. Ted finally roused himself, looked toward the door where we waited, smiled and made a vague come-here gesture.

I came out, slowly, Maverick following behind. "So... how are you feeling?" I asked.

Ted gave me a tired smile. "Oh, very nice. I always worried that when it came time to do this, it would be less real than I'd imagined. But it was more real. Much more. Thank you."

I reached up to stroke Larry's hip fondly, setting him into a slight swinging motion again. "You don't want to stab him or anything?"

Ted shook his head. "I understand that's the usual thing, but really, I'm fine." He clearly did not, at present, have the energy for such an effort.

I looked at Maverick. "Did you bring the heart monitor?"

Maverick shook his head. "Still in the room." He turned to go retrieve it.

"Never mind the monitor, but could you get me a knife?" Maverick nodded and disappeared into the room.

While Maverick rummaged around in the utensil drawer, I took Larry's wrist, and found no pulse. Larry's chest was at the level of my head, so I put my ear against it. Larry's skin, clammy with sweat, had not yet cooled noticeably. There was no sound of a heartbeat. I nodded to Maverick. "He's gone."

Maverick offered me a nice, sharp cooking knife. I gestured for Maverick to go ahead, and he plunged the knife into Larry's stomach. A small stream of blood issued from the wound. Larry, of course, didn't react. I wasn't sure why it seemed so important — obviously Larry would never know — but clearly Maverick felt the same, that Larry should have the complete Hanging Boy experience.

Withdrawing the knife, Maverick asked Ted, "Are you really sure you don't want to take his fur?"

Ted smiled again. "I wouldn't mind skinning the real Zeke, but this just wouldn't be the same. But the main thing is, I promised him to his friends. That would be you."

I blinked. "That was just part of the story, I thought."

Ted shook his head. "It's like I told him. I'm not Ezekiel Hill. When I make a promise, I keep it. That's important to me." He looked back and forth between Maverick and me. "I promised him another thing too. That I'd tell his friends he'd made things right." He flashed a tired grin. "Well, your friend Larry made things right. I can't say all of the anger is gone, but... it feels more in balance now. The world has terrible people like Zeke in it, but now I know it has people like Larry too. The way he worked so hard, even gave his life just so someone he didn't even know would feel better... like I said, there's balance."

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I stroked Larry's hip again. "Yes. That's Larry."

Ted stood up at last. "Anyway, thank you again. While you're taking him... well, home, I've got something up at the house for you to take along with you. I'll go get that while you're taking him down. You can get his head back to me later."

I'd been waiting for the right opening. "About that. I had an idea, while we were waiting, that I think you'd like."

Ted looked at me curiously. "What's that?"

I smiled. "Well, you talked about what you were going to do with his head. That's what made me think of it. Instead of having just his head to sleep with, would you like his whole body instead?"

Ted frowned. "That's impossible. It'd be so immoral to preserve him. His fur is supposed to be used." He looked shocked.

I shook my head. "That's not what I meant. I'm guessing you've never heard of a company called Full Body Associates? They don't advertise, but word gets around. I know about them because my dad knows some people who have used their services."

Ted was still frowning. "What do they do?"

"Basically, they would make a life-sized doll out of him. They start by sending his skin to a good-quality furrier. They take 3-D photos from various angles to show the shape of his muscles, tendons, etc. Then they discard the muscles and organs, but keep his bones, along with his head, intact, preserved. They clean the bones, wire them back together, they make new life-like muscles out of a special substance they've developed, and they use a few hairs from his fur to replicate his skin and fur from artificial materials." I smiled. "They'll replicate Zeke's fur pattern, muscle shape, everything. It takes a few months, but in the end, you have... well, it's not right calling him a doll, because a doll doesn't feel like the real thing. This would be exactly like him, same shape, same texture, the limbs and other muscles would move in the exact same way." I gestured toward Larry's head. "And of course, this would be his face. Zeke's."

Ted looked up at Larry's face, wide-eyed, and gulped. "You're not just making this up?"

"No, sir! Do you think you'd want to do this?"

Ted stood frozen, staring at Larry. "Is this... would he really be okay with this? I don't want to do anything with his body he wouldn't like."

"I talked to him about it, sir. While you were out, earlier this morning. Don't worry, you won't notice a gap in the videotape, but we did shut it off briefly. He loved the idea! He begged me to please ask you if you'd do it."

Ted looked at Maverick, who nodded in confirmation.

Ted was still skeptical. I went on, "Sir, Larry is my oldest, dearest friend. He wanted me to be here because he knew I'd look out for him like nobody else would."

Ted shook his head, not in negation but in wonder. "He wants to spend forever looking like someone else?"

"Sir... for the last two months, he's devoted every minute to trying to become Zeke Hillcrest for you. When I asked him about this idea, he said the thought of still being Zeke, for the rest of your life, after his is over... well, like I said, he begged me to try the best I could to talk you into it."

Ted couldn't tear his eyes away from Larry. "So what do I do? How do you contact this company?"

Relief flooded me when I saw I could carry out Larry's last wish. "I'll call back to the school and get their number. Sir, I need to warn you it's kind of expensive. All the processing, the special materials, the time, the equipment, the patented technologies..."

Ted laughed. "I don't usually ask this, but how much?"

I tried to recall. "I think their starting price is three quarters of a million. That's why the company isn't really very well-known — most people couldn't afford it anyway. It goes up from there, depending what kind of processing you want. His joints can be limp, like a fresh corpse, or stiff so you can pose him... that's all something you'd work out with them."

Ted's eyes were alight. He gestured. "Make the call."

"Yes, sir!" Excitedly, I wrapped my arms around Larry's still-suspended body, and kissed him. "You got it, hon!"

I carried Larry to the Full Body van. Maverick walked beside him, with Bill a few steps behind. I had Larry's legs draped over one arm, his back cradled against the other arm, and his head snuggled against my cheek. I smiled: it probably looked as though I was carrying Larry back to our room after he'd partied a little too hard and fallen asleep. In a way, I thought, that image was appropriate.

I grunted as I climbed into the back of the van, and waited as Bill opened the top of the ice chest. I laid Larry gently down on the surface of the ice, straightened his legs and crossed his hands over his stomach. I ran my fingers through Larry's Zeke-colored headfur to adjust a small cowlick.

The driver was fascinated. "They told me who he'd look like, but that's pretty amazing. He's really not the real one?"

I smiled. "He's not. I promise."

I wanted to say one more thing to my closest friend, but I couldn't think what. At last I bent, kissed Larry's lips, quickly cooling under the influence of the ice, and said, in a husky voice, "You could never have been such a great Zeke if you hadn't been so much Larry." I backed away then so the driver could empty another bag of ice over Larry. I stayed in the van until Larry was completely covered, his face last of all, and the lid closed. Then I climbed out of the van, took a deep breath with my eyes closed, and took Maverick's hand. "Let's go home, hon."

Maverick and I stood up as Dean Porter entered the conference room. I tried to look more awake than I was. I hoped this meeting would be over soon so I could fall into bed with Maverick and sleep for... well, it was fourteen hours before I needed to get up.

I sat gratefully after the Dean had taken his chair and waved us to our seats.

He smiled. "I trust it went well?"

I sighed at the memory. "Oh, Sir, you have no idea. You would have had to be there. But I mean yes, it went really well."

Maverick added, "He was wonderful, Sir."

I went on, "His skin will be delivered here in about three weeks. He's..."

The Dean nodded. "Yes, Full Body Associates called here. It's all arranged."

I reached into the pocket of my shorts and handed across the folded piece of paper to the Dean. "Mr. Bloom wanted me to give you this, Sir."

The Dean unfolded the paper, and blinked. "I don't understand. He already paid in full."

I grinned. "Yes, Sir. He just wanted the Academy to have a little extra."

The Dean continued looking at the check. "Ummm. Quite a lot extra."

"Yes, Sir. He asked about creating a scholarship, but I told him the boys don't pay tuition anyway. He said he hoped this would help with operating expenses, and also wants part of it to go to doing something nice for the boys."

The Dean nodded, smiling again. "I'm sure I can find a use for this."

Three Weeks Later

Jack looked into Maverick's and my room, Eric looking in over his shoulder. "You guys coming?"

I laughed. "You kidding? Wouldn't miss it."

As we walked down the hall, Maverick asked Jack, "Any idea what's playing?"

Jack looked at him in surprise. "I thought you guys would know, if anybody did."

I shook my head. "All I know is what Maverick and I voted for."

We arrived at the door of the library annex, now converted into the Larry Moran Theater. A plaque at the door, bearing a likeness of Larry in bronze, said, "Dedicated to Larry Moran, whose efforts upheld the best traditions and standards of the students of the Hanging Academy. This theater made possible by a gift from Mister Edward Bloom."

The idea of the movie theater had occurred to me after a full night's sleep, as the best way to honor Larry — though the students could watch any movie in their rooms, we all missed the experience of sharing the entertainment with more friends than could be squeezed into a single dorm room.

We picked up a huge bucket of popcorn at the entrance; Maverick and I followed Jack and Eric to a row about one-third of the way up from the front. We took places in the huge, softly padded, partly reclining seats; other boys took seats in front and behind us.

The moment the feature started, I covered my eyes with my hands, laughing helplessly. I'd instantly recognized the opening of "The Bank Job." I finally sputtered to Maverick, "Do we want to stay? How many times did we watch this?"

Maverick was laughing as well. "How many times did we see every Zeke Hillcrest movie?"

I sighed. "Well, it'll be like seeing Larry again." Maverick nodded.

I reached toward the popcorn bucket, currently in Eric's possession. "Could you pass it this way?"