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A Messy Ending ((AME))

The sun was soon to set on the wolf named Arvetis in more than one way as he stared at the lone, tall tree standing in the center of the prison courtyard. The dusty orange light left long shadows through the branches, as he pondered the fact he would not live to see the sun fully set tonight. Beside him was a tall, muscular buck, his tawny hide rippling with strength beneath his dark clothes, the executioner holding the condemned wolf close. The lean, lithe wolf shivered in the older male's tender hug. But he found himself doing little but staring at the large branch under which his life will soon end. There was a quiet rubbing of his shoulders from the older buck as he looks down to him, "Are you ready? There isn't much more time left now. Although I don't think you have much say even if you are not."

The wolf flushed a little as he bit a lip, the two red scars beneath his eyes showing his blush that much much more. He was once a proud warrior, well liked by his men, and perhaps even command potential. But a bitter bar fight led one thing to another, And in the end a young man's life ended under his sword. And now he was to pay the price for watching the ferret's life bubble away in his hands. A tall branch and a simple stool will be his gallows. While the audience awaits his slow, humiliating death on stage. He felt that firm, nervous need to relieve himself, and quietly he looked up, "Why is it I can't go to the bathroom, it's gotten me all fidgety feeling before my show."

The buck just smiled a little, "You'll see soon enough. But don't worry, you only have a little time left to worry about those concerns. We should get you dressed now." The buck's big hands began to lift the bright orange shirt off the prisoner. Revealing more white and dark gray fur for the executioner to admire. A bigger smile as his hands trace down that lean stomach and find a bulge in the prisoner's orange striped pants. Arvetis fidgets a little, uncertain how to answer to that sensual touch. But the buck's steady hands strip him all the same, his deep voice calm and unfazed, "Don't worry about that, just a little angel lust. Plenty get hard and eager before they perform the hemp fandango before a crowd. Nothing to be ashamed of. In fact..."

He trails off as he pulled the prisoner's pants off, revealing the wolf's very handsome arousal. Arvetis would likely have made some lady, or perhaps even another man, quite pleased. But soon he'd be giving his last show for a crowd instead. Although this may make them just as pleased at least for one time. The buck leaned back some himself, to show off the bulge in his own dark leather pants. Whether this quite calms the nervous prisoner is a matter of debate, it does relieve him that he's not the only one getting aroused before a hanging. "Plenty of people come here just for that reason. Maybe thinking of their own necks twisting in the breeze. Maybe thinking of their own feet kicking that stool down. But either way, you're their spectacle for tonight. And you may as well just enjoy everything you can. Because it will all be over soon enough."

The wolf shivered, his dark tail lashing as he watched thin, nearly sheer underwear be led up his strong legs. The dark fur showed nicely through it as the soft fabric was bulged with his arousal trapped beneath. He had never actually seen one of the infamous hangings here beneath that proud tree, so was not expecting to be dressed up for death. A pair of soft, thin cotton pants followed, trousers snug but not too tight. The two thin enough to be partly sheer, showing hints of pink flesh along with grey and white fur. More then enough to get an idea of that maleness straining his lap. He looked up curiously while the buck secured and tied the string to cinch them to his waist, "So, I suppose I get to dress up for my final show, these seem kind of soft and frilly for a hanging."

The buck just grinned wider "Suppose you never did see one of the executions here. You're not really here just to die. You're here as entertainment, and as such, are dressed appropriately. Remember that when we reach the tree, and don't worry about being bashful. You only get one show here anyways." He rubbed the wolf's ears, the anticipation growing thick as the wolf stares outside. Already a small crowd was waiting, with more quickly following. Waiting just for him and the buck who will soon end his life.

There was a gentle tug upon his sides as Arvetis trembles. The buck wrapped an arm around his shoulder. The door opened for them, and slowly they began to walk down the long path to the tree. While he can, Arvetis peeked over to see the buck holding a massive, black rope coiled around his shoulder, a simple black ribbon, and a tall stool. The simple tools that will end his life. Surprising almost, after all of the fancy gear and guns and arcane weapons he had learned as a soldier. Just a simple rope, a black scarf, and a stool, and in the end you can kill a man just as easily. He took deep breaths, savoring the warm, sweet air of the dying summer. Just a hint of fall in the air that he will soon never breath again. It was a weird, squirmy, but quite arousing thought as he found himself lead beneath the branch.

The large buck pulled the wolf's hands back, tying off the black silk wrapped around Arvetis's wrists. A sharp, painful pinching, and the knot was secure. Helpless now except to watch his death unfold before him with a torturous slowness. The big stool was set before him, and with a quiet urging he found himself stepping towards it. His paws shaking as he lifted his foot onto the tall wood. The wood scraped and grooved with the last struggle of many prisoners who have gone before him. And he would not be the last to find his death atop the old stool. Slowly he stood himself, peering down to the crowd below, feeling quite exposed in those sheer pants.

For a moment he trembled. Not the merciless killer depicted, but a poor young man, soon to find his death. But then he closed his eyes, thinking of those words his executioner had told him. He stood up more, proudly lifting his chest, after all he only will die once. He may as well enjoy it while he can. There was a quiet smile beneath him as he watched the buck throw the big noose over the tree branch above his head. Then the deadly loop of rope bobbed before his head. The rope dangled and kissed at his muzzle as he gave a quiet whimper of fear. The thick, rough fabric stroked his cheeks as the buck reached up, leading it down around his neck. He gave a long, deep breath as the noose flicked across his ears. And then the rope was draped around his shoulders, heavy, secure, and ready to embrace him while his life would ebb and end in that taut grasp of fabric and a simple knot. His arousal ached between his legs as that fidgety need to relieve himself grew. And he began to realize what sort of a messy end is indeed in store for him.

The rope is lowered, the buck making a show of the execution for the cameras. The knot tightened, making his heels lift from the stool. The grasp of rope around his neck made his pulse pound in his ears, unable to even nod his head as the rope is secured to the tree. He was ready now, it would just take a quick kick and he'll soon be finding out how it felt to hang. And what will lie beyond after those agonizing slow minutes. His tail lashed urgently as his heart pounded in his chest. Shaky breaths from the audience watched the buck close behind the stool. A dark hoof settled on the top. His voice proud beneath the shaking victim. "And we have gathered here to watch this young wolf, Arvetis Agathos, hang from his neck until he dies. For the crime of murder he shall be put to death for all of your enjoyment. May he find justice in the next world."

And with that final announcement the stool is expertly kicked away. Arvetis found his claws scraping useless along the wooden stool. And then with a clatter it fell to the ground. The rope creaked sharply as his weight settled, And he was hanging. His neck compressed for the crowd to watch as feet desperately felt for anything secure. All of his weight settled on that pinching knot. Rough fabric pinched at his thick fur as he began to twist, his claws inches from the stool. But he was never to find support as he felt his tongue dangle from his lips. His body twisted in the warm light of a summer sunset as the crowd hushed, watching him die.

His head pounded with his pulse, Arvetis's body eager to keep his life flowing even in the fatal embrace of a noose. His tongue pressed from his dark lips as his heart raced, that rapid pulse pounded a quick beat in his ears. The sharp pinch and rough scratches around his neck made him toss his head, just pulling that rope even more taut as fur is harshly tugged. His toes curled, legs thrashing in the air, the sweat cold on his pink paw pads as he could almost feel that stool, just inches away. The ground was a good foot away at worst, but never to be touched by his feet again. The urge to breath was just a hot tickle in his chest. But it was quickly growing, spreading as he watched the ground spin around him as he instinctively struggled.

He felt a strange heat in his loins as well, perhaps from the shivery knowledge that he was dying. Left hanging, swinging and strangling while his knot began to swell. His chest urged him to breathe, burning as his head was swimming in the dizzying stranglehold on his neck. He felt drool ooze down his chin, cool against the breeze he dangled in. His legs kicking with a rapid pedalling, swinging his body back and forth gently in the frantic battle for life. His wrists tugged at the fabric holding them, finding no escape from them. Time seemed to slow as he felt his life slowly squeezed from him, one second at a time.

The burning urge for air is maddening now, his lungs on fire as he felt a sharp cramping in his legs. While in his head a dizzying warmth began to spread. Spots danced in his vision as he watched the world begin to fade. That strange pleasure rapidly built up in his loins as he began to relax. His eyes half closed as his tongue grew heavy between his lips. The struggle for life being lost, and instead a hot pleasure began to rush through him. He was going to die, and for some reason that thought made his loins burn with lust. A sudden tense shudder rushed up his spine as his knot blossomed, lewd against the damp underwear from his precum. He began to thrust, weak, frantic motions to draw that pleasure out.

And he came, with hot, sticky semen filling his snug, thin underwear. The sticky mess oozed down his sheath as he humped at the air. His vision spun, as spots and darkness slowly filled it. The sensation was incredible, as dizzy heat started to rush through his body as his consciousness began to fade. His orgasm ended as quick as it flared, leaving him trembling, helpless as he watched death steadily approach. His kicking legs were weak, faintly rising and falling, his toes curled and muscles cramping. His head slipped forward as he felt his body begin to relax towards that fatal sleep.

He gave a shudder as he felt a wet heat flow down his front. His dazed, tunneled vision watched hot piss start to well up, flooding that thin underwear to soon soak into his thighs and down his pants. Marking him well with his own scent as he begins to realize why the thin, sheer cotton pants were worn. The heat was strangely soothing even as he began to piss himself before the crowd. He knew he didn't need to care at all. He felt another heat behind him, heavy as his rump flexed. He realized with a curious detachment that he was soiling himself. The dark waste filling that thin undergarment, quite visible to the crowd's jeers, yet so far away. But for him it didn't matter. He was finally letting himself go. The dark heat felt so messy and lewd, but also strangely erotic. Just letting himself go as he dies, unable to even hold that basic function in control.

His body trembled as his last thought was how strangely satisfying this was. But finally that darkness stole him away. And he just hanged, his body limp and on display. His heart weakly fought to continue beating even as he lost consciousness. But it was a futile battle. The wolf was soon dead in the rope's erotic grasp. Piss dribbled down to the ground from his toes, leaving long yellow stains down the front of those once pristine white pants. While that dark mess was held, dirty and heavy in his underwear. Not even hidden by his clothes, so all can see the wolf has made a mess out of himself for their amusement. His tongue dangled fat and heavy, his eyes wide and cheeks dark, making that bright scar a deep blue now. Just an amusing, soiled decoration to hang for the next week or so, for the birds and scavengers to pick at before he gets buried somewhere. One more executed criminal to be long forgotten by the time the next execution rolls around, and another crowd awaits some poor guy or girl to give that obscene dance once more, and fill yet another pair of pants in their last, frantic struggles.

And the buck smiled, enjoying another perfect show he gave under the tall oak tree, while the sun set to darkness for one more poor soul. The wolf really did give a good show in the end, and isn't that how life should be.