While Matty and Seamus handed out slices of cake to the guests, I aimed another plastic forkful of cake at Scott's mouth. I held it there for a moment while Jessica snapped another picture. Scott reached out with a finger to wipe a bit of excess frosting from my lip; I caught his hand and sucked on his finger for a moment, giggling.
I found my eyes turning toward the stage again. It was getting harder to tear my attention away, and harder to ignore the feeling in my cock. I was starting to regret not wearing briefs — I was just about on the point of dribbling pre-cum. No, I told myself, not yet, not yet. This is Scott's time.
Scott gave me my last bite of cake; I started to look at the stage again, but he caught my eyes. It was almost as if he had reached out for them and grabbed them. He was smiling. "You want to get ready, don't you?"
I couldn't speak. How rude, to tell him I wanted to leave him.
He leaned forward and kissed me— a long, soft, tender kiss. Not a goodbye kiss. That would come later. He broke the kiss and took my hand, squeezing it. His eyes just inches from mine, he whispered, "Go. It's your time now."
I looked at him, wondering how he could come so close to reading my concern and addressing it. I opened my mouth, and he beat me to it, for once. "I love you."
I giggled, feeling bubbles of release bursting inside me. "And I love you." I put my hand behind his head and kissed him again. "One thing I just thought of," I added.
"For you, love, anything."
"When you send me to the lab ask them to use cells from my neck. Right under this lock of Sumner's hair, if they can. Is that okay?"
"One hundred and one percent!" He smiled at me. "I'll be sure to tell them to do it." Scott pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped a few keys, making a note to himself.
I turned quickly, and got the attention of Zuchter, Marcus, and Runner. As I caught each one's eye, I pointed toward the guesthouse.
I started to follow them, then spotted Father walking by with a drink in each hand. I turned as he went past, and saw him hand one to Ted. Ted took it without blinking, so they must have already been talking. I hadn't noticed. Ted said something I didn't hear, and Dad laughed — not something I'd seen very often.
And on that positive note, I am out of here.
I walked to the guesthouse without attracting much attention. The few people who did notice me got a smile and a finger wave.
I arrived at the guesthouse and Marcus immediately began helping me out of the suit. Runner said to Zuchter, "You should pick out where you want to go, and we could put some ropes there beforehand so she can tie you up if he wants to..."
Marcus spoke up. "Just make sure there's some bushes close by so I can watch from there."
I was rehearsing my hanging moves in my head, and having a hard time concentrating on the outside world. But at last I registered the conversation and slowly concluded I did not know what the hell they were talking about. I looked at Zuchter. "What?"
Zuchter giggled. "Oh! Well, we had a really fun time with Scott's friends, and Runner said maybe we should do your sailor friends too. While the dancing and all that is going on, after your hanging."
Runner nodded. "I never got to be with Justin. He just would want straight sex, wouldn't he, Wynn?"
I smiled at him. "Yeah, do a lot of stroking and kissing. He'd like that. What was this about the ropes?"
Zuchter answered, "He said I should be with Bailor, because she'd want to really take control. Marcus's going to do Jimmy first, and then — you heard this part — he'll watch from the bushes while I'm with Bailor. I'm not reading anything dangerous in her, just that she's kind of aggressive. But it never hurts to be safe."
I nodded. My first instinct was to encourage caution in a situation less controlled than an Academy party, but Marcus was going to keep an eye out. With Scott and an entire wedding party within earshot, I didn't see cause for worry. I pulled off the slacks, handed them to Marcus, and pointed to my bag. "Zuchter, could you get the spray? And the glitter's in there, too. Marcus, let me look closer at that suit."
I took the suit back from Marcus, and examined it on the inside, more closely than before. It was designed to be ripped away easily. The slacks had fake seams at the sides, the front and back halves slightly overlapping, held together on the inside by small loops of thread, every few inches from top to bottom. The shirt and jacket had similar rip-away seams between the front and back panels, and down the sleeves as well. As long as I don't need to bend over, none of the spaces between the threads will spread apart far enough to show any skin. I bit my lip, and said to Marcus, "We need to test this somehow."
Marcus pointed. "Let's rip open that stitch at the bottom, on the right side. That's expendable."
I nodded and handed him that part of the shirt. "You do it: you and Scott are going to be doing it for real later. See how much effort it takes."
Marcus, his lips pressed together, pulled at the fabric on either side of the stitch. In a moment it gave way. He nodded and draped the shirt over a chair. "It wasn't as hard as it probably looked. I was trying to make sure I didn't rip any more of them than that. We'll have to give it a pretty good yank, but it's no big deal." He looked behind him. "Do you have... Oh, good." He took a spray can from Zuchter.
I pulled off the slacks, and inspected the pad I'd put in there. It was wet, but not yet soaked through. I was dripping pretty steadily by now. "These are really a mess, hon. I don't know if you even want to bother taking them back with you."
Marcus laughed. "I'll give them to Scott. He'll probably want them as is."
I smiled at him. "Oh, would you? Thank you."
Runner stood holding a spraycan. "What do we do, Wynn?"
I looked at all three of them. "Okay, none of you has done this before, but there's nothing tricky. Just spray my whole body, a little at a time. After you spray each part, sprinkle the glitter onto it and brush it in. Check each other's work to make sure you don't miss any spots — underarms, between my legs, everything."
Runner's eyes went wide. "Oh! This is how they make the boys shiny before they hang!"
I nodded. "Right." I stood with my legs apart, my arms away from my sides. Zuchter knelt first and began spraying my feet; Marcus started on my upper legs. Runner, after watching the others briefly, started spraying my shoulders.
I closed my eyes and sighed, blanking my thoughts of hanging for the moment and giving in to the pure sensation.
I had never felt closer to Marshall. I had known Marshall for such a very brief time, and almost my only physical contact with him had been spraying and brushing his body. I felt the circle of a Hanging Boy's life completing itself, from my birth on the day I'd met Marshall, to the day I had aimed for ever since.
I gasped and giggled as Marcus brushed glitter between my buttocks, at the same moment Runner was approaching my crotch from the front and above.
The boys finished and spent some time looking closely, and I smiled as I wondered whether my naked body had ever had quite this much visual attention. At last they looked at each other, and Marcus turned to me. "All done."
I pointed to the suit. "See if you can get that on me so it does as little sliding across my skin as possible."
After some discussion, Zuchter helped Marcus turn the shirt nearly inside out, rolling up the sleeves, then together they put it around my body. They unrolled it down my body and arms, then buttoned the front. The jacket went on the same way. They rolled up the legs on the slacks, and held the front open as far as they could while sliding it onto me.
As soon as I had the suit on, I hugged Zuchter, kissed him, and said, "Have a great life and a great hanging. With your feet tied." Zuchter smiled and promised he would.
I hugged Marcus next. "Make the Warren family proud. Again. And tell Manning about me when he gets here." I kissed him, and he brushed a tear away as he said, "I will."
I turned finally to Runner, and held both my hands. "You've come such a long way since I met you. And I don't just mean from the island. I couldn't be here without you today, and I thank you so, so, so much." I drew Runner closer for a hug, and whispered, "Always love everybody. Always be happy. And always be the best Hanging Boy you can be." I kissed him.
Runner's eyes were glowing, and I wondered whether it was a reflection of my own eyes or something contained in Runner's. "I will, Wynn. I love you."
In a choked voice, I said, "I love you, Runner."
I let him go, stood back, and closed my eyes a moment, breathing deeply. I let the joy, the excitement, the eager anticipation, burst forth into my conscious mind again. "Okay, here's how I want us to go out..."
For the second time, Marcus, Zuchter, and Runner emerged from the guesthouse, together this time, holding hands. Runner held a small coil of rope.
About ten feet out from the door, they paused until they were noticed — one of Benjamin's friends saw them, and the word spread through the crowd. I came out as soon as I heard the crowd hush, and closed the guesthouse door behind me. I chuckled briefly: closing the door was symbolic of leaving my life behind. At this point I could probably find some symbolism in pretty much anything.
I took a deep breath of the day's fresh air, and fixed my eyes on the stage. I spared only a little attention to my friends walking ten feet ahead. As before, applause spread through the crowd, in pockets at first and then general.
Bill and Karl took up positions on the stage on either side of the hanging platform, several paces behind it. Bill flipped a switch on the device that generated interference with any local electronic devices, the usual precaution against any images of the hanging being recorded. Both men then stood with their hands folded in front of them, as still as statues except for the movements of their eyes, scanning the crowd.
Scott now mounted the steps to the stage and stood beside the platform, beaming with pride.
The boys broke their formation as they reached the steps, Marcus stepping up to the stage first, then Zuchter, then Runner. They took up a position on the side of the platform opposite Scott, with Marcus nearest.
As I approached, I picked out the people I had invited. The crew of the ship, of course, were standing together. I smiled; none of them knew what my friends had planned for them during the post-hanging party.
More surprisingly, Father was still standing with Ted. Good, that cuts down on the number of different directions I'll have to face.
Matty and Seamus, their duties done for the moment, stood together, with their arms around each other's waists. Seamus whispered something in Matty's ear; Matty nodded, his eyes going from me to the stage. I suspected they were planning to ask Benjamin to hang them together when their time came.
I beamed at Dean Porter, giving him a thumbs-up signal. He smiled and nodded in return.
I fixed my eyes on the noose once more. I'd thought I was as excited as I could possibly be, but I was getting even more excited as I walked up each step to the stage.
Once on the stage, I approached Scott's open arms, and felt them enfold me. I sought out his lips for another kiss.
He let go of me, and I walked around him to stop behind the platform. There was a sword lying on the stage back here. I smiled. Father didn't yet know that Scott was going to ask him remove my head. That was the same privilege Dad had given to Kevin Warren, Marshall's father, so long ago.
The circle keeps closing in so many ways.
I saw the noose again, swaying in the wind. I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them again to look at it again. In less than an hour, the body of a Hanging Boy will be dangling there — me!
I faced the crowd again, and felt my connection with them grow stronger. It's exactly the way I always pictured it!. These are the people who will see my show! They're very excited already. They can't know how I'm feeling, but they have feelings of their own. Already aroused, some of them, already uncomfortable with growing erections or moistening panties, the ones who have some idea what to expect.
Marshall! my inner voice shouted silently, triumphantly. I'm here!
I stood still, my eyes sweeping across the gathered audience. Scott had told me he wanted to speak first.
To my right, Scott held up his hand, and the applause quieted, conversations were hushed.
"And now..." Scott said, and for the moment the quiet seemed to extend even to the birds chirping in the trees. He paused and went on. "My spouse tells me he has a little show he'd like to put on for you."
The silence was shattered by whoops of laughter and renewed applause.
I stepped up onto the platform, my smile so broad it almost hurt. I felt the noose brush my shoulder, and suppressed a moan. I clasped my hands together in front of me, to keep them from visibly shaking with my excitement. Just let me get nooseborne, and I'll be perfectly calm.
I swept my gaze over the crowd. "Most of you probably know the usual thing is to perform a little skit before the hanging. We're not going to do that today, for a lot of reasons. One is, we couldn't work in any rehearsal time, because Scott and I have been, ummm, kind of busy for the last twenty-four hours or so." I laughed, and the audience laughed along with me.
I went on, "The biggest reason, though, is I don't want a piece of fiction to take away from the... realness, of today, my wedding day. I never thought I'd love anybody the way I love Scott, right now." I looked down at Scott, and saw him mouth "I love you." I mouthed the same back to him, and returned my attention to the crowd.
"When I was going through the Academy, I never knew exactly what the circumstances would be, for my hanging. I knew I'd be excited, no matter what. But I never imagined being so happy. So many people I love are here right now. Scott — Daddy — Ted — Dean Porter — Justin — Rochelle — Jimmy — Marcus — Zuchter — Runner — Benjamin... I love you so much I want to give you everything, and what makes me happy is that I can do that. Those of you I just met today, I love you too. Either Scott or Benjamin invited you, so you're special to them, and that makes you special to me too. I'll give you everything I've learned in the last four years, and then I'll give you my fur, so I can always be with you." I grinned. "So let's start on that right now."
I looked down and gave a little hand gesture to Scott and Marcus. They jumped up beside me on the platform, and the crowd grew very quiet once more. I put my hand behind Scott's head and gave him a long kiss. He let his hand drift casually up to the open front of my shirt. I whispered, "Goodbye, honey. Thank you so much. I love you."
He whispered back, "I love you too. Always."
I felt Marcus's fingers curl around the top of my suit, against my back. Scott locked eyes with Marcus, and nodded. Marcus whispered, "One, two, three..." and they both pulled. The jacket's front and back halves separated down its length and along its sleeves as the uppermost stitches gave way. They pulled my shirt off the same way. Then they took hold of the waistband of my slacks, and both of them jumped away, off the platform.
The last of the slacks tore away, and I stood, alone atop the platform, naked and glowing in the sunlight. The wide-eyed crowd gave a single collective gasp. At every hanging, this moment was always so dramatic in its suddenness, giving the witnesses just a small hint of the powerfully erotic vision to come. I put my hands behind me, arching my back, standing proudly with my feet apart.
Runner and Zuchter jumped onto the stage. Runner looped the rope around my wrists. He had wanted an active role so badly that I'd relented from my earlier determination that he should only watch. Zuchter unobtrusively checked Runner's knot and nodded. Runner finished tying off the end of the rope, and again Zuchter checked it and nodded..
I kissed Zuchter, told him "I love you," and he told me the same. Then I turned to Runner. Runner's eyes were blazing now, and I wished I could tell an astronomer that I understood what caused a star to go nova — some inhabitant of a planet circling the star, my theory went, radiated so much excitement, like Runner was doing now, that it made the star explode. I kissed him and said, "Thank you for saving me. I love you."
Runner put his arms around me, and rubbed his cheek against mine. At last he said, "I love you, Wynn. Thank you for bringing me here." He turned and followed Zuchter in jumping down from the platform. The two of them sat on the stage, a few feet away.
Marcus stepped up once more, took hold of the noose, and lowered it over my head, tightening it around my neck. Any of the three boys could have done this, but I'd wanted Marshall's brother to have the privilege. With the knot placed and adjusted, I kissed Marcus, and said, "I love you. Tell Marshall all about it tonight." Marcus promised he would, and jumped down from the platform, leaving me standing alone once more.
I evened out my breathing; Marcus would signal Scott when it was time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scott pull the lever. The platform began sinking.
I cleared all thoughts from my head, and chanted in my mind, Hanging Boy, Hanging Boy, Hanging Boy...
The rope around my neck tightened and lifted me. My feet came free of the world, never to return to it in this life.
A sensation of power, of being in control of the emotions of all of the people around me, came over me more intensely than at any time since I had last performed with Maverick. Now it's just me. They all came to see me.
Along with the power was the feeling of floating, a familiar friend I had known since my first time hanging.
As I oriented myself, kicking, preparing for my first moves, I smiled to myself. My routine was familiar to my friends, but few of the others in the crowd had ever seen anything like what I was about to do. Not even Scott.
I felt, suddenly, the mental equivalent of listening to a dozen songs on a dozen radios, while somehow keeping all of the tunes separate in my head. Images were flooding my mind, all simultaneous. Of Maverick, showing me and our classmates those special moves of his for the first time, in that first hanging class. Of Sumner, trying his best with little formal training. A lock of his cropped hair was now pressed against my neck, where it would feel the last beats of my heart. Of Larry, looking like Zeke Hillcrest, kicking and squirming in the noose and helping Ted conquer the anger that had clung to him for so many years. Of Runner, hanging for the first time, entering a world he had never imagined. Of Holden and Hamish, hanging together, expressing a connection to each other that went far beyond mere love. And behind all of the images, surrounding them and unifying them, the image of Marshall, his dying performance seen by a directionless high school boy whose life was changed forever.
I heard the gasps as I began my hip thrusts and Maverick-style leg wraps, and saw several hands drifting toward their owners' crotches. I saw the open mouths, the widened eyes, as I transitioned to Shaw's downward-straining wriggling, and Holden's high-diver move that had first attracted my attention to him. I heard soft moans and sighs coming from my audience.
I'm all Hanging Boys who have ever died for their art. All of their blood flows through me, and mine through them.
I turned to face Scott, projecting my love for him through my body movements, seeing his wide eyes following me. I can't thank you with my voice anymore, my dearest, my motions said, but I can thank you this way. I noticed that he had unzipped and was stroking himself slowly as he watched me. His eyes told me that his performance was for me, as much as mine was for him. I acknowledged him with a double-kick, and he gave me a military-style salute with his other hand.
I swung around the other way, to face Runner, Marcus, and Zuchter, all sitting together on the stage looking up at me, unblinking. Of the three, only Runner was moving, his body swaying slightly, his hips, arms, and legs twitching, the muscles contracting in synchrony with mine. His body was echoing every move I made. He's imagining himself here, in my place, the crowd watching his performance. For a time, I concentrated on Runner alone, dedicating the dance to him. At the back of my mind ran a small trickle of regret that I wouldn't see Runner grow any more, see him evolve into the greatest Hanging Boy ever seen — if anyone ever takes that title from Maverick, I'd be glad for it to be Runner — but the trickle was overwhelmed by a flood of satisfaction, of joy in just having known Runner at all.
I turned now to face Father and Ted. Thank you, Dad, for giving me my first chance to be an Academy boy. And thank you, Ted, for working so hard to try to get me a second chance.
I faced the Dean, projecting my gratitude for giving me the home I needed, the direction I craved, and for surrounding me with the friends who showed me what a real family could be.
Justin, Paul, Jimmy. Especially you, Justin. Deciding to help me when you didn't have to, and giving me my life back. Giving me this, giving me today. I did the double-kick I had promised Justin, and saw the smile curl his lips, the nod of his head.
My mental hanging clock told me twenty-two minutes had gone by.
I turned to face away from the crowd now, to give them a view from behind. So much harder to make the effort to breathe now, falling badly into oxygen debt.
I let the rope itself slowly turn me back to face the front, too tired to do it myself. Twenty-five minutes. There... my thoughts were cottony, puffy things that were hard to grab onto. Wanted twenty-five. Might make thirty, but okay if I don't. Everybody satisfied. Can hear orgasms in front of me. My turn now.
I'd been concentrating on the moves I needed to please the audience, and to extend my time in the rope. Now I gave myself up to my own needs. The sensation of the rope around my neck... so tight... merciless... squeezing the life out of me.... strangling me. The need to breathe, and the knowledge that it would soon be overwhelming. I was almost at the point where I would never breathe again. The tingling, the need in my cock, there from the beginning, growing more intense now as I concentrated on the ending. A small burst of new energy. Feeling as though I was physically lifting my own body to float higher, higher, into the sky. The need to cum, the tingling pleasure spreading, pulsating.
The world seemed be fogging like a windshield on a cold, moist morning. Sounds fading, heard through soft cotton earmuffs. The fog, the whiteness, the silence growing. Wait. I didn't finish yet...
The whiteness was all. I could see nothing else.
I felt entirely weightless. I had experienced this sensation of floating while hanging, but it never filled my senses like this. The rope around my neck was a comforting caress, and I found I could breathe easily in spite of it.
I wasn't aware of turning, but another naked hanging figure swung into view from my left. It was me, as if I were watching myself in a mirror. I had done that once, but the sight of myself hanging distracted me, and I couldn't do the proper breathing movements. But at the moment, breathing was not a problem; I watched, the need in my cock growing, as the dangling figure kicked and wriggled in echo of my own movements.
I never thought of myself as beautiful. Not like Maverick, not like Runner. But when I'm hanging... A fish is lovely and graceful in water. A bird is clumsy and awkward hopping around on land, but when you see him riding a current of air, wings outstretched, his beauty can take your breath away. When I hang, when I'm in my element, I am beautiful.
The image of myself drifted closer, the ropes holding me and my reflected image aloft slowly converging. I was not aware of the figure in front of me changing until the transition was already complete. The figure's fur was black and blonde now, not nut-brown. Headfur long, not short. I gasped in recognition. "Maverick!" Wait... I was hanging, my breath cut off by the noose... but I could speak?
Maverick smiled, and drifted still closer. His body seemed to emit a glow that went beyond the light on his glittery fur. his face, so familiar, somehow carried the quality of being new, unknown. I felt again that instant physical attraction I felt when I first saw Maverick, at the orientation for new students.
Like me, Maverick was able to speak while hanging. "I'm so glad you're here, Wynn."
I looked around, but there was nothing else to see in the whiteness. "Maverick... where is here? There were people all around, watching my hanging. I was doing my show!"
Maverick laughed. Maverick's hands were tied, but I felt one of them tap the side of my head. "We're in here."
"In... you mean in my mind? Like I'm dreaming?"
Maverick nodded. "Remember that article we read once? I showed it to you. When I started looking up stuff about the 'brain flood' in the last few moments before death?"
I looked at him, startled. The memory came back. Maverick and I had become interested in a phenomenon seen by neuro-scientists. This had been tested repeatedly at schools of hanging throughout the world, including my own Hanging Academy, the most esteemed of them all. Students hanged during demos had worn wireless sensors on their heads during their final hanging, aiding research into general brain activity. There was an intense burst of electrical activity electrical activity in the brain in the last few seconds before death. lost consciousness forever. A similar effect had been recorded during the hangings of untrained preyfurs, but it was much more intense in Hanging Boys and students.
The exact cause and purpose of the burst of activity was widely debated. Further research to pinpoint the part of the brain involved was needed, but no one was quite sure how that could be done. A Hanging Boy's final performance could not be done inside an fMRI machine or any other diagnostic tool that could determine the location of brain activity. Most scientists thought the boy could not possibly be conscious during the time the brain flood took place, only seconds before death. It was most likely a final panic reaction within the brain; the boy's personality already dead by then.
One published article, however, proposed a different thesis: that the burst of activity signaled the occurrence of a particularly intense dream. The scientists had wanted to try reviving the boys immediately after the flood, but both the schools and the boys themselves had rejected this proposal — the boys emphatically and in some cases obscenely. It was therefore impossible to obtain either subjective data (via interviews) or objective data (via more accurate brain scans). So the idea that some sort of dream was involved would have to remain pure speculation for now.
Maverick grinned. "Looks like the guy was right. I always did think it made sense."
I nodded. "Yeah, I know. Because of the way we're always talking about our own hangings as 'the dream,' the ending we want more than anything, the day we're always imagining and visualizing. You thought we were emotionally conditioning ourselves to have a real dream, in the end."
"Right. All that time thinking about our final hanging. Choosing a scenario. Practicing for... anticipating... that final orgasm. We're set up to experience some sort of cosmic experience when our time finally comes. And you're living through the proof right now."
I laughed. "So you came back from the dead just to say 'I told you so'?"
Maverick shook his head and tapped my head once more. "I'm in here, Wynn. You're thinking all this yourself. You're just picturing me as the person who would remind you about it."
I looked at Maverick and grinned. "You had such a great show! And Kelly... He went straight home and started reading your books. Honey, you did everything you were hoping for! You found the Hanging Boy in your brother!"
Maverick smiled beatifically. "I know. And you found one too, sweetie."
I sighed, letting the feeling of satisfaction wash over me. "You know about Runner?"
Maverick laughed. "Wynn!"
I shook my head, amused by my denseness. "Yes, okay, okay, you're in my head."
"And you saved me, too. If not for you, I would never have graduated. You were right, of course. Trying to do everything myself, without connection to the other students, I would have stalled out halfway through my second year. I'd have flunked out at a demo, or at best at a party. And that's not even counting that you saved me from an ignominious death less than two months after I started at the Academy."
"I did what Marshall prompted me to do. I always asked Marshall for help when I faced a tough problem."
"The Marshall inside your head, like..." He flipped his left hand outward, a casual gesture. He was reminding me, again, that he was also inside my head.
"Okay, point taken."
I noticed noise and movement off to my right, and looked. There was a barred gate, some distance away, but I was able to see it clearly. Only the gate, with white blankness on either side of it. Behind the gate, Andrew was pounding for entrance. The gate was clearly too strong to yield to his efforts.
I smiled. "He can't get in here."
Maverick grinned. "Real subtle symbolism, Wynn."
I laughed. "Don't make fun of my subconscious. You're in the middle of it. As you keep reminding me." I looked to my right again. The gate was gone. Andrew was gone. I wouldn't see him again.
I frowned suddenly. "Maverick, this has already lasted way too long. The whole brain flood only goes on for a few seconds."
"It's a dream, Wynn. Your time sense is on vacation."
"So what happens now?"
"You're asking me? It's all up to you."
"I..." A wave of feeling washed over me. That same physical attraction I had felt moments ago was back, stronger than before. I tried willing myself to move closer to Maverick, and found that I could. Our bodies came together softly, our chests touching, and then our lips. I still felt my hands tied behind me, but my arms went around Maverick, and Maverick's tightened around me.
I held Maverick's lips with mine, for a long, long kiss. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, the eyes looking back were no longer Maverick's. "Larry!"
Larry, his fur giving off the same internal glow as Maverick's had, gave me a typical smile, from his original face. Not Zeke Hillcrest's face. It was the Larry I had known and loved for years before he spent his last months as another person. "Hi, Wynn."
"Larry, I'm so glad to see you here!"
Larry grinned. "Where else would I be, Wynn?"
"Larry... I wish you could see Ted! He's changed so much! You changed him. Exactly what you said you wanted for your hanging, to change somebody's life. You did that."
Larry responded with a happy sigh. "I know. I saw him, honey. I've seen everything you've seen."
I groaned, exasperated with myself again. "You're in my head. This is just really hard to get used to."
Larry laughed, and then looked at me pointedly. "Wynn, you changed a life too. A lot more than I did."
I smiled. "I guess I did." I could imagine what Runner's life would be like right now, if we hadn't met.
The wave of sexual need returned once more. I moved closer to Larry, feeling the front of my body press against him, Larry's arms encircling me. The contact seemed more complete than before, as if the dream was solidifying. I was intensely aware of touching Larry fur to fur, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, cock to cock, lip to lip. An energy of a type I had never known seemed to flow in both directions between us.
I had closed my eyes for the kiss. When I opened them, I gasped once more. I instantly backed away and sank downward a few feet. It seemed only right to view this face from below. "Marshall!"
Marshall's body was whole, and exactly the way I remembered it from his hanging at my house — except for the glow. His skin shone with a sunlike intensity, but I could look at it without squinting.
Marshall looked down at me. "Wynn, come up here with me."
"I — I shouldn't. Really."
Marshall smiled. "No, you really should."
I drifted higher, until my eyes were on the same level as Marshall's. It seemed to happen without my willing it. I couldn't think what to say.
Marshall spoke. "You're one of us, now. Completely. And you're my equal. You can look at me as your mentor if you want, but you have to know there are boys, so many boys, who see you that same way. Including Runner, of course. And my brother Marcus. Thank you so much for that."
I shook my head. "Marcus was already at the Academy when I met him."
Marshall shook his head right back at me. "I'm not talking about bringing out the Hanging Boy from within. I did do that with you. Maverick did it with Kelly, you did it with Runner. But a Hanging Boy can also be an inspiration to others who are already at the Academy, who need someone to show them what they're capable of. You heard the older boys talk about me. The boys at the Academy now talk about you that way."
"I don't... well, deserve that. Boys like Maverick, Shaw, Holden and Hamish. They're the creative ones. They made hanging into something beyond what it ever was before. Even Runner is already inventing new things, new moves."
Marshall shook his head again. "Still not what I'm talking about. Being a Hanging Boy is committing your life to one single thing. Did you ever doubt you were meant to do that, once you started toward that goal?"
"No. Never. How could I?"
Marshall smiled. "Boys do, sometimes. But then, Wynn, they look at you. You are a very special Hanging Boy, Wynn. In the same way you think I am."
I laughed suddenly. "I'm having this argument with myself. Why am I losing it?"
Marshall laughed with me. "If you want to look at it that way, you can. But these are things you've buried underneath your conscious mind, and wouldn't let yourself think them. You'll let me tell them to you. And you can believe me when I tell you."
And I saw. Suddenly, completely. As if through the eyes of all of the boys who looked up to me, I saw myself, and what I had done for them.
The love I had always felt for Marshall suddenly became a physical need. Wave after wave of desire suddenly washed over me as a rising tide.
The most intense orgasm I could remember in my entire life was the first one with Marcus, when Marcus had dyed his hair and worn Marshall's hanging costume, so that I could make love to him as Marshall. That earthquake barely registered on the scale of tremors I was feeling now.
My body rushed forward to meet Marshall's, and I moaned as my open mouth met Marshall's. That intensity of awareness hit every place where my body touched Marshall's. The sense of energy passing between us was much stronger than before, double, triple. Just as with Maverick and Larry, I could feel Marshall's arms around me, holding me, loving me, even though they were still tied behind me.
As I moved against Marshall, I saw that Maverick and Larry were at my side, now moving in closer, touching, and again I felt the touching deep within me. All of the Hanging Boys I had known and loved were behind us, now with us, surrounding us, enfolding us like a warm, soft blanket. Leo was there. Jack was there. Shaw. Eric...
I was aware of all of them, felt all of them. The energy intensified still more, and my sense of self, the separation between me and the others, began to dissolve. There was just the sensation of rubbing against Marsh, him rubbing against me. Maverick and Larry and the rest... all touching me, touching each other. Usually, I preferred to have somebody inside me. If I couldn't get that, then being inside somebody else was my second choice. But this time it wasn't necessary. All of my skin, my muscles, everywhere, all sensation... all pleasure... all erotic.. beyond anything I'd known before. Marshall! I cried out. Maverick! My entire being united with all the others who had gone before, the goal of lovers to become one body achieved at last, as far beyond "both pleasures" as "both pleasures" with Scott was beyond jacking off with no lubricant... far beyond orgasm... a state for which there is no word.
I/we faded together into the whiteness.
A Few Seconds Later
The audience watched Wynn kicking and struggling in the noose. The way Wynn's hips thrust forward, his legs wrapping around an invisible lover made everybody hot. Then the desparate wriggling, struggle for air. By this time, nearly everybody was rubbing themselves frantically. A few minutes later, the squirrel switched to a series of downward leg thrusts, as if trying to propel his body upward and get breath that way.
Then came a few seconds of near stillness, after which Wynn began a series of long pelvic thrusts that must have come from deep inside his being. His movements were so personal, so intensely private, it would have been embarrassing to watch — except that it was so thoroughly, so engagingly erotic. As the pelvic motions became more intense, they started Wynn turning again. By some coincidence, he was facing Scott at the moment his cock erupted. Scott was watching his spouse intently, his eyes glowing with pride, his tongue nearly hanging out in excitement; he came instantly. Several gobs of semen landed directly on Scott's muzzle. He used a finger to transfer it to his mouth, and swallowed it.
Luke Benson was here as a friend of Benjamin. The double orgasm caused the Burmese cat to moan in his excitement. His spouse, Sanjay, was also busy with one hand in his pants. He gave a short yip when he saw it. The dingo fell to his knees and took Luke in his mouth, turning them so both could watch Wynn's final struggles.
Wynn was dangling, nearly limp after his enormous ejaculation, his feet kicking weakly. Wynn's legs moved up and down, once, twice, then his body ceased moving on its own, and swung slowly back and forth.
In a tight voice, near orgasm, Luke gasped out, "I think he just died!"
Sanjay, his other hand busy inside his slacks, stopped long enough to scream, "No kidding!" Then he moved his mouth rapidly on the cat's cock, causing him to scream with the intense pleasure as he came. The dingo swallowed rapidly, then fell over in a faint, a small wet spot spreading on his slacks.