Though critics whined that Washington would quickly become the suicide capital of the United States, at midnight on December 31, 2000, the "Y2K Initiative," passed overwhelmingly by the voters, went into effect. The state became the first (and only) in America where "assisted" suicide is not only legal but unrestricted. If a person wants to die there are no medical or psychiatric reviews or preconditions. Without having to justify or even explain their motivation, by signing and filing a simple consent form, they are free to select the person or organization to "assist" them in dying when, where and how they determine.

They can even delegate those decisions to the assisting agent.

At 12:01 AM on January 1, 2001, my web page opened and my first ads went out for my new business, SUICIDE HOTLINE, INC. Since young males between eighteen and twenty-five are the most likely group to contemplate suicide, I expressly specialized in serving their needs. Recognizing that suicide is often labeled a "coward's way out," I advertised that we would shove that down their critics' throats by putting them to a death such that no-one could ever accuse them of being less than all-American manly. Only "real men" would have the "brass balls" to employ me, boasted my web site and the posters I sent to every athletic department at every college, university and high school in the state. Under the new law, they were required to post such notices on a "prominent" bulletin board.

Then I settled in to see if it was going to work. I did know that it would help the business immensely if I could get some good news coverage, but that would depend on whether one of my early killing assignments proved of public interest for some reason or another. After the Supreme Court upheld the new law passed by the voters, several dozen "cide" businesses sprang up and after the first few deaths, the killing of the "average" suicide customer was stale news. After the first week of January they were hardly noted by the media., especially once several other states began studying passage of similar laws.

But at the outset there was this one small problem nagging in my mind. I had never killed a guy before!

That may sound a bit silly considering all that has since transpired, but initially I was concerned about whether killing would come easily to me. I'd always fantasized about it and got my rocks off thinking about it, but I was aware that even when it was acceptable, encouraged behavior, as in war, not everyone can kill comfortably without qualms or psychological damage. Was I secretly like that?

Until I was first "blooded" I could simply not know as an absolute.

Thus Jeremy was very important.

The strapping twenty year old soccer jock sat across my desk as I all but gaped at the poster-boy face beneath the medium-cut, silky mane of his ebony hair. He was utterly gorgeous! And he had an inoperable brain tumor they had just detected. It had not yet begun to affect him much.

He spoke firmly and calmly,

I swallowed hard, my erection swelling rapidly in my pants.

And as I looked at him, I was almost consumed with the heady, erotic desire to experience a snuff with this incredible buff young hunk. Here it was ... my moment of truth.

He swallowed, then fidgeted just a bit.

Fuck! If he'd only realized it, I'd have paid HIM for the pleasure of snuffing his spectacular young ass!

He sagged back in obvious relief and flashed me a broad, pleased grin.

I pulled out one of the official consent documents and handed it to him.
 

WASHINGTON STATE ASSISTED-SUICIDE CONSENT WARRANT

Notice: This in an official government document
with the effect of law upon its execution.

The undersigned avows that he is at least 18 years of age, not under the influence of any mind-affecting drug or alcohol and acting of his own free will without the undue influence or coercion of any other person. 

I hereby employ SUICIDE HOTLINE, INC., a corporation under the laws of the State of Washington, and, pursuant to Washington State Statutes, Annotated, hereby irrevocably assign to the said corporation my termination decisions and release the said corporation and its officers and agents from any and all liability for actions taken by them pursuant to this agreement. 

It is my express mandate to the corporation that I be put to death at a time, site and in a manner of their choosing with no limitations whatsoever. 

DATED THIS _______________ DAY OF ______________ 20___. 

__________________________________________________ 

(WARNING: Do NOT sign this document if you have the SLIGHTEST question about your decision to commit assisted suicide. Once you have signed, the law does not permit you to cancel, modify or withdraw this consent without the approval of your selected agent.)

Without the slightest hesitation, Jeremy scribbled his signature, inserted the date, and handed it back to me.

He complied and I was not disappointed. The buff jock body was every bit as nice as I had expected as he stood there for my inspection. His cock almost instantly swelled into steely erection at the erotic effect of his nudity and his sudden new status as a condemned man with no say whatever in what was done with him.

He gulped and his blue eyes widened, but he gamely turned, bent at the waist and spread his legs as I approached.

His creamy-skinned, dimpled, bubble ass cheeks were entirely too beautiful and tender not to be marked. I slapped him hard with my open hand, winning a nice cringing flex and soft gasp. I continued to spank his jock rump for a while until my hand started getting sore. Then I pulled my belt from its loops, doubled it over, and began to really work those reddening, bruised cheeks and upper thighs with a vengeance. It was such a thrill to be able to just whip the fuck out of such a fine, burly hunk of a boy and have the power to determine just how long it went on.

Finally my need became too great and I rammed my cock up into his wildly protesting hole. The boy squealed like a stuck pig as he was invaded and every muscle flexed wildly, but he offered no resistance as I fucked him with pile-driver thrusts that all but lifted him off his big feet. It didn't take long before I filled his gut with my surging cream.

His eyes widened at the thought.

I laughed,

He swallowed hard again but managed a weak little grin and shrug of his shoulders.

Had he noticed the way I was practically panting with excitement and getting hard again even though I had just come? Yeah, probably.

I'd had a series of death chambers of various sizes constructed in the cavernous basement of the place and now led Jeremy to one of these. He studied the new device I'd dreamed up with open curiosity. It was a guillotine but unusual in that the frame holding the heavy, sharp blade dangled from the ceiling by adjustable chains.

The jock asked to write a few goodbye notes to family and friends and I waited patiently while he accomplished that task. Then he sat on the wooden bench below the killing device and I brought it down level with the top of his chest and pulled the upper half of the bifurcated wooden stock open. He promptly slipped his head through the opening and I brought the top back down to fit around his throat and locked it. His vulnerable neck now lay perfectly positioned and defenseless below the gleaming blade waiting above.

I'd always been secretly fascinated by beheading. For some reason it turned me on fiercely as did almost any form of strangulation death ... hanging other men was another particularly erotic fantasy for me. But, fuck! This was no longer fantasy. A real flesh and blood bull of a jock was about to be offed and I had control over it ... I had life and death power over him at this moment in our joint destinies. My God, was that a breathtaking sensation!

He complied and starting stroking his steely, drooling cock with his right fist while holding the lanyard in his left. I slipped a wicker basket beneath his crotch to catch his head when it dropped.

The sublime moment approached as I watched in rising excitement. He was beating his meat with ever increasing fury, his body flexing, one foot actually lifted dramatically in the air. The first burst of cum jetted suddenly from his spasm-wracked cock. I saw his left arm flex and cord..

Yes! Yes! Yes! YEEES!! Fucking DO it, boy, fucking pull on that rope because I TOLD you to. I have willed your fucking death and now you will give it to me! My thoughts were pulsing with frantic lust.

He froze up! He just couldn't quite bring himself to the ultimate act. He looked at me with panic-filled eyes.

He nodded as best he could with his captive head. He let me slide my own furiously hardened tool through his lips and began to urgently nurse at it and flick it with his hard, wet tongue. That felt so fucking good! I took the lanyard in my own hand and waited as my orgasm raced closer and closer.

It didn't take long for the explosion. At the precise moment I started popping my load into his mouth, I jerked on the rope. The blade whooshed down.

KASCHUNK!

The razor edge sliced effortlessly through the boy's neck and thudded wetly into the wooden base of the dangling frame. Blood splattered all over my front and as I stepped back, startled a little at the sudden violence of the killing, Jeremy's head came with me. I looked down to see it hanging for a moment from my cock, his mouth still locked in a sucking "o" around it, his glazed eyes frozen wide in surprise. Then, almost in slow motion, it slipped free and plopped into the basket at my feet.

I had loved every second of the execution and was full of excited relief. My doubts had been groundless. I loved killing just as much as I'd always fantasized! I was now "blooded" and ready to rock and roll with my business enterprise and even made money off Jeremy's killing. All of the death chambers were equipped with video cameras and his snuffing was captured on tape. I sold the master to a company with whom I had contracted for video rights and received my check for my first income ... a nice, juicy $10,000 advance on my twenty percent of sales profits.

The very next day came my next lucky break. Two marines, both gorgeous nineteen year-old dolls with big, manly bodies buffed to \perfection, showed up on leave from Camp Pendleton. One of them had a brother in college in Washington who'd seen one of my posters and told him about it. They were both in the utter prime of life and perfectly healthy. The problem was ... they were gay and facing discharge as "undesirables."

He was the blond, his buddy Jess a dark-haired hunk.

They had made a suicide pact and wanted to have a combined death in some dramatic form to protest the military gay policy. They realized it would likely change nothing but wanted to at least make their personal symbolic gesture. They had saved up what they could and gotten contributions from a bunch of their buddies in the corps who secretly thought the policy sucked too and supported them. They had five thousand dollars total and were hoping that would be enough.

Shit! I almost hated taking their money.

I had their signatures on the warrants in a flash before they could change their foolish but noble young minds.

Their buddies had all rented vans and come up to be on hand for the kill and we staged a little party that night down in the biggest of our death chambers. I had food catered in and booze was consumed as only marines can consume it. Huge protest signs against the military gay policy plastered the walls. The drunker the group got, the more heady and urgent was their growing blood lust. They had come to see two of their own kill themselves under my guidance and they could hardly wait for the big moment.

After a bit a chant started up,

Then it settled into a rhythmic,

It was definitely time for there to be two dead jar-heads there in my basement!

I had contemplated something gory and violent but finally settled on a simple process that I suspected would be extremely effective when, hopefully, it hit the media. I had Tom and Jess strip naked and settle on their knees one before the other. I looped slim golden cords around their throats passing through ratchet cinches at the side of each neck. As the trailing ends were pulled, the cinches would lock in the cord and keep it from being loosened. I put the ends of Jess's cord in Tom's hands and gave Tom's to Jess.

I draped a flag around beautiful, poster-boy Tom's golden shoulders for the patriotic effect. All was in readiness and even the drunk marines watching the show quieted down in awed respect.

The two marines were going to strangle each other!

Four powerful, cut bicepses bulged as one and the ropes slammed shut around both necks as each marine put everything he had into strangling his buddy.
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The air was cut off almost immediately but they continued to haul on the ends of the cords in near desperate determination to kill each other. It was spectacular to watch and after a bit the entire group of watching marines burst into wild applause and cheers of encouragement. It was all I could do to avoid creaming my pants as I watched the magnificent studs slowly, slowly die. Their faces turned pink, then red, then blue and their eyes bugged out. Their chests heaved in powerful, vain efforts to draw in air. Saliva drooled from their gaping mouths. They were in absolutely perfect condition and it took a surprisingly long time before they finally lost consciousness. Shortly after, both young hearts faltered, thudded again briefly in erratic spasms, then stopped for good.

The news hit the media like an explosion. The dramatic picture of the dying duo, their muscular bodies straining and flexing, their handsome faces contorted as they went into death throes, that flag around Tom's neck like a badge of honor, was pure art. A picture is worth a thousand words! It was on the front page of just about every major paper in America the next day and the tv people were on the story of the protest suicide like a hungry hound on a beef patty. With great timing, it was a generally "slow" news day and we were the hot item.

The military was almost immediately under siege. These two all-American stallions might have been gay but they were blameless ... they had never done anything improper after enlisting that could be proven. Yet they had been "hounded" to their dramatic deaths, dying courageously in the best tradition of the corps in the hope that other young gay men wanting only to serve their country would not be treated in the same vile way. The country was furious, at least according to the instant polls. Eighty percent thought the military was wrong and eighty-three percent thought the two young men were "heroes" for what they had done.

The corps made the rather stupid blunder of threatening to court-martial every one of the seventeen "straight" marines who witnessed the suicide for "insubordination." Well, I guess they did chant 'fuck the brass' at one point.

We were ready. At a quick press conference, I waved seventeen blank death warrants.

The marine command ran for cover and within the hour all thoughts of charges against the group were dropped. They returned to Pendleton for a tumultuous welcome from the rest of the marines stationed there and nary an officer in sight to interfere. I'd expected that, but was still disappointed. I had held out some slight hope that just maybe the stubborn jar-head brass would call our bluff.

Christ! Seventeen hunk studs to kill! That mere thought did make me cream, though fortunately I was naked in bed at the time just imagining all I would do to them. Such a fucking shame that for once the military showed a little sense.

The publicity was worth its weight in gold. I started getting a wave of new clients, though truthfully I realized just the video income from the now famous marine offing would make me well-to-do. A couple of more such coups and I'd be able to settle back and enjoy the wealth and glow of utter success as the big name in the cide business which I suspected would shortly be rapidly expanding state by state. I just sensed I was catching the wave so to speak. Watch out, Bill Gates, here I come!

It was 3:57 in the afternoon on a Friday in late-January when the next big affair began to develop. A call came in and the ballsy voice on the other end identified himself as Chris Bevins, president of Kappa Epsilon Gamma ... KEG ... fraternity at Washington State University at Pullman. My excitement and anticipation rose steadily as the conversation unfolded.

I laughed,

It was an entirely new concept. I had not really planned to travel to client locations, but there was certainly no reason it wasn't feasible. In fact, I liked the idea of this party a lot. It had the kind of 'thrill kill' overtone that would be controversial and controversy makes news. I saw good potential in it. When Chris warned that they didn't have a big budget available, I made his day by offering to waive fees in return for all video rights and, with sudden inspiration, offered the frat a fifty percent cut of the profits, half to go to a scholarship fund for their members, half to a charity of their choice. He was ecstatic.

There was a method to my benevolence. The publicity would likely have a negative overtone, which would still be invaluable. Publicity is publicity after all when you're trying to get your name out. Say or print whatever the fuck you like but just spell my name right! But I hoped that by tossing in the charitable angle I could slide a more positive spin onto the affair.

I assured him I could certainly meet those desired specifications.

Thus the following Saturday found me in Pullman and working with my three new clients. I was thrilled when I met them. All were superb young bulls, tall, sculpted and magnificently hung and with just about one full brain among them. Their loss would not damage the human gene pool. After an afternoon spent insuring that none would die with a virgin Ass-hole, we kicked back with beers and I explained what was going to be done with them.

I assured him that was certainly what I was hoping to achieve.

I'd always stayed in good shape but had never been much into sports in college. I had tended to resent the idiot jock types and the prospect of torturing and snuffing these three sterling examples of the species appealed to me tremendously!

Chris hadn't lied. KEG knew how to stage a wild-ass party! There as a great band, good food, and free-running booze. In short time the packed house was getting down and having a great time. At midnight, all assembled out in the sprawling courtyard of the house and cheered wildly when Chris introduced me. There were wilder cheers when my three victims began to strip. Soon Danny, Jake and Lane were all stark naked and very much aroused between their thighs. That was a crowd pleaser and the air was filled with ribald taunts and teasing that the three took in good-natured stride and threw right back at their buddies and their dates.

Chris announced our profit-sharing agreement and that really pleased the KEG brothers. Then we showed the video of the marine double-suicide on a big screen on one wall of the courtyard to heat up the lust of the crowd. When it was over, the three soon-to-be-hunks-of-dead-meat stepped up on wooden boxes below nooses and I snugged the ropes around their necks. Then I brought down three dangling strands of piano wire and tied a loop of the sharp metal tightly around the neck of each set of their huge male genitals as they spread their brawny thighs to accommodate me.
.

They released big bags of balloons I had provided to drift around the courtyard, half with my company name and number and the other half with our company motto ... "Die Like A Man!"
.
We were ready. An excited, expectant hush of anticipation fell over the crowd as they all craned their necks to get a good view of the action. I made sure the video cameras were rolling. Danny, just eighteen, was the youngest and I gave him first honors.

 
He nodded, 

    "Let's get it on, man!"

I pulled the box from beneath his feet and let him drop. He only came down about six inches but it was quite enough. He was now hanging. But not by his neck! 

The rope still had slack, though not much. The piano wire had been designed to be the first to reach its limits and now the full weight of Danny's muscular body was suspended by his genitals!

His scream echoed in the courtyard and the crowd went wild in delight as blood began to dribble and then spurt from between his thighs. The wire was castrating his ass! Exactly as planned. 
. 
The three were unrestrained and, in a slight panic, young Danny grabbed the wire in one hand and at the rope around his neck with the other, but the wire instantly began to slice his fingers and with a yelp he let go. 

It didn't take long before his entire sex package dropped to the ground below with a wet plop and blood spurted freely from his emasculated crotch.

He then began a slow death from strangulation as he now dangled by his neck. I kicked the box from beneath Jake's feet and the brawny twenty year old hunk began his wire castration adding new screams to the night.

He was spectacular to watch as he writhed and kicked in the air in obvious excruciating agony. He too vainly tried to escape the maddening pain between his legs by clutching at the wire briefly before giving that up. 

. .

When Jake too had been de-sexed and was strangling on his rope, I added twenty-one year old Lane to the mix by removing the box from beneath his big jock feet. Soon he too had surrendered his manhood to the piano wire and was hanging by his neck. He put on a great show as he danced on the end of the rope, blood splattering all around from his crotch with each convulsive kick and writhe of his toned, buff form. He grasped desperately at the strangling rope with both hands and briefly staved off the inevitable. But not for long..

I think I more than met the expectations of my host group. They wanted agony and blood and they got it!

The media had a field day when the news got out. Editorial comment ran wild on both sides of the matter and every talk show on the tube dealt with it the next day. My business was now a household name all across America! Prospective new clients started making contact in a steady stream ... young hunks from Maine to California wanting to come to Washington for their suicides. Young bulls who'd never even thought of killing themselves suddenly decided it would be the thing to do.

There was a startled silence.

When he asked what I'd charge to "do" him, I assured him that he would be absolutely free.

And so it went.

Then came the call from Texas. A lame-brained high school board had decided that sports were a useless waste of resources and served no great purpose in the educational process. Four eighteener seniors who had lettered in every sport decided that, like the marines, they wanted to make a graphic statement in protest of the abolition of the sports program at the school.

They were all good students with bright futures, and I actually, sincerely, tried to talk them out of it. When it became clear they were determined, I agreed to do them at once and they were on a plane to Washington before the day was out.

The next afternoon the news me­dia gath­er­ed in the main death cham­ber in my base­ment upon my in­vi­ta­tion to wit­ness the pro­test sui­cide by the mag­ni­fi­cent young jock teeners.

Johnny Travers, a drop-dead gor­geous stone fox of a kid, had been se­lect­ed as spokes­man be­cause of his won­der­ful boy­ish charm and sen­su­ous appeal.

He stood there with micro­phone in hand clad only in bi­ki­ni briefs that left nothing to the ima­gi­na­tion and pre­sent­ed their po­si­tion state­ment from mem­ory in his ball­sy voice rich with its Texas accent..

I stood watch­ing him from the side­lines as he melt­ed the news-hounds with his all-Amer­i­can looks and charm, re­mem­ber­ing what an ab­so­lute­ly great fuck the kid had been for a vir­gin with a cher­ry Ass-hole.

I'd taken him when he slept with me the night be­fore. In fact, I'd taken the in­cred­i­ble doll re­peat­ed­ly. For a sup­po­sed­ly straight kid, the boy had got­ten his own rocks off on it pret­ty im­pres­sive­ly.

The boy-jocks had asked me to really put them to an excruciating end. I think the entire country agreed that I more than met that stipulation.

The four teen hunks accompanied me to the killing set-up awaiting them. Four old, tinder-dry railroad ties hung suspended by chains and I had each of the young stallions divest their briefs and straddle one of the beams like a horse. I tied their ankles beneath and hobbled their wrists loosely behind their backs. I strung a noose around each of their necks primarily just to keep them upright on the horizontal beams. They were not going to be strangled by hanging until they lost consciousness; only then would the rope finish them off if they were still alive.

I carefully encircled their big cocks with hemp twine and tied off their balls tightly with it, then soaked their crotches and thighs in gasoline, dousing the wooden beam below their crotches and asses as well. I inserted a piece of cord an inch or so up into their piss tubes through the slit lips of their cock-heads but did not soak these fuses in gas ... I wanted them to burn slowly towards the flammable boy crotches for the dramatic effect and suspense.

Show time!
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I did Joel Gray first, selecting him just at random from the four choices. I ignited his dangling fuse and the little flicker of flame began to burn its way swiftly upwards.
.

KAWHUMP!

The sound of the gasoline igniting as the flame touched the jock's cock-head echoed loudly and his hairy crotch exploded into flame and began to burn with a fury. He began to scream at once and writhe in agony as the flames consumed his manhood. Of course the beam ignited too and soon the flames were crackling out around his straddling thighs and up from behind.

After I had him burning well, I lit the fuse stuffing Bill Chokeberry's cock. The foxy hunk was part Cherokee and it showed in his silky, black hair and high cheekbones. His body was baby smooth except for the luxuriant copse of ebony silk between his muscular thighs. Moments later he too exploded into flame between his legs and his screams joined Joel's.

I lit the last two fuses after enjoying Chokeberry's excruciating agony for a while and turned Tommy Landers and Johnny Travers into living human firewood. All four young hunks blazed away and screamed out their lungs from coast to coast, roasting away on live TV, writhing, flexing and suffering the pangs of hell! It seemed to take forever for them to finally lose consciousness, but then young guys have such great stamina. It's amazing how much torture they really can withstand.
.

Two things quickly followed the fiery deaths of the four protesting jocks. A tearful school board, besieged by furious parents of hundreds of students, immediately restored the sports programs at Longhorn High and then resigned. And my business became besieged too. There was such a flood of calls from guys wanting me to kill them that I had to hire extra help just to keep track of the contacts. Of course I immediately raised my rates substantially ... you know, capitalizing on the demand for my services.

Ain't private enterprise a great thing!