[Caution - depicts a death by hanging.]

     A few years ago we got into the business of selling bodies. It’s a very small business – we only do it about four times a year.

     We put "Scientific Research Purposes" on all of our invoices. We really don't ask the buyers what they have in mind.

     We sell only women and they have to be willing. I’m not sure why anyone would volunteer. I guess money plays a role for some. But I don’t think money alone explains why a women would do this. Maybe some are just unhappy in life and want to leave. Others may have an odd sense of adventure or feel drawn to the experience for other reasons.

     When a girl signs up for our waiting list it's usually about 3-12 months until her reporting day. Some back out. That's okay. We don't want anyone who doesn't want to be here. Sometimes a girl will back out, then contact us again a few months later and try to get back on the list a second time. We don't like it when that happens. It's tempting so say, "No way – you had your chance." But if she's really pretty and likely to draw a good price we'll try to fast-track her to the next auction so she has little opportunity to back out a second time.

     After a girl is on our waiting list she's allowed to attend auctions if she wants. Some never do it. Others like to stop by and see the process.

     I recall one young woman a year or two ago – her name was Heather. She signed up but asked to defer for a year. I guess she had something personal to complete – maybe it was a university degree that was important to her or something like that.

     Anyway, she came to all our auctions that year.

     I recall she always dressed well – she liked to wear a skimpy little black dress, a pretty black hair ribbon, dark hose and heels. What was even more noticeable was her smile, her bright eyes and good attitude. She was about average height but quite slim and slender, with light brown hair and fair skin. She made quite a beautiful sight.

     Heather liked to get a spot up near the stage for the best view. We bring the girls out on stage one by one, naked and handcuffed. Heather would smile clap and cheer for each one, and try to help each one feel pretty and special. She'd cheer again when each girl got a noose put on around her neck. During the display period and the auction she’d watch the girls on stage closely, studying their expressions and body language. I’m sure she was trying to imagine what it’s like to be on stage, put on display, waiting to be sold and waiting to hang. It must bring a lot of strong emotions.

     The bidding is done on all the girls at the same time and it's done silently. So until it's over no one knows how high the bids are going.

     When the auction is done we make a big deal about announcing which girl got the highest bids. It’s a big tradition and it's a lot of fun. The crowd has a chance give a big cheer and a big round of applause for that one. You can tell she’s happy and feels a lot of feminine pride. But you can also tell she feels extra awkward being on stage naked and handcuffed and noosed while we make her the center of attention of everyone in the room. It’s fun to see all the strong, mixed female emotions. It’s cute. Of course the one with the high bids still has to hang. But we give her the courtesy of going last, so she gets extra minutes of life as her reward for doing well. That might not seem like much. But for someone in their last 60-90 minutes of life I guess a few extra minutes might feel very valuable and precious.

     Heather loved to clap and cheer with enthusiasm for the girl with high bids.

     We also have a tradition for the girl with the lowest bids. It may seem cruel. But we need to have incentives for each girl to try her best to get good bids. So we need some rewards and penalties.

     When we announce the girl with the lowest bid the crowd is encouraged to boo and jeer. The poor girl is usually mortified and quite unhappy. She often comes to tears and sometimes sobbing from feeling humiliated plus all the other intense, pent-up emotions of the event. Worse yet, the low bid girl has to wear our “hood of shame.” It’s a heavy old leather hood for her face and head that she’ll wear for the last 30-40 minutes of her life while all the financial transactions are being completed and she waits to hang first. When our master of ceremonies brings out the hood he likes to hold it up so everyone gets a real good look at it. You should see the look of shock and terror that brings to the poor girl! It’s another chance for the crowd to jeer and mock her while the hood is put in place.

     Heather seemed to understand that we do all this for a reason. So she had a great time booing and jeering the low-bid girl as loudly as anyone else. When it was time for the hood it didn't matter how horrified or terrified the poor girl on stage looked. Heather would clap and cheer and say, “Give it to her! Give it to her hard!” as loud and clear as anyone. Then she'd clap and cheer as the hood went on.

     Heather was such a cute and lively girl it was fun to see her having a great time.

     Even though she seemed to enjoy the whole process I noticed that Heather always left before the first girl was lifted up.

     At her last auction as a spectator I went over to speak with her.

     "Are you enjoying the show?" I asked.

     "Yeah, it's complicated," she said. "Sometimes when I go home I feel so sorry for the girls here. I mean I know they're volunteers and we're not supposed to feel too sad. I hope no one will feel too sad for me. But still, the whole process brings out a lot of big emotions. Sometimes I go home and think about what's happened and I can't help crying. I feel so scared it'll be me soon."

     "But when I'm here," she continued, "the whole atmosphere is kind of fun and sexy too. And I think the girls on stage deserve an upbeat audience – it would be harder for them if there were a lot of sad people here so I try to keep a good attitude."

     I nodded.

     "It's funny," she said. "I've never really been into girls in 'that' way. But the girls here always look so beautiful and so brave and so vulnerable I can't help staring. It's fun to see. I'd love to talk and touch each one, and try to talk to her and tell her something reassuring. But on the other hand I don't know what kind of reassuring words I could say to someone who is going to ... you know, hang."

     "It's complicated," she said with a pause.

     I asked if she wanted to stay to see a hanging.

     "Oh God no," she said. She grimaced and shook her head. "It sounds horrible. Why would anyone want to see that?"

     I told her lots of people think it’s horrible. Some also think that a hanging and the death struggles can be a complex and darkly beautiful in a macabre way. It's part of the process.

     "Ugh," she said. "Count me out. I don't want to see that."

     I said that if watching a hanging was too scary, maybe she should back out of her commitment to be auctioned. I said, "You know you'll see at least one hanging unless you're the one who gets the lowest bids."

     "Oh I will NOT be the one with low bids," she said with a tone of fierce determination. "Trust me on that."

     "Okay," I said. "That means you'll see at least one. How will you feel about that? And then you'll have to hang too. How are you going to feel about that?"

     She gave a nervous smile. She shrugged. She said, "When I'm doing this for real I have to do it, right? There's no backing out, right?"

     "That's right," I nodded.

     "Well I'll deal with the feelings when I have to. Other people have done it. I can too. It'll be hard. I'm not naive. I can handle a lot of strong emotions – don’t worry about me. Right now I don't want to see it happen," she said.

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     True to her word she came by on her reporting date, right on schedule. She was dressed like a typical co-ed in a denim skirt, a tank top and a leather jacket. She carried a large coffee.

     She was really scared and nervous. But she was also chipper and cheerful in her own way.

     We told her the first step was the holding cell. Before someone enters they can always change their mind. But once someone steps into the cell there's no option to back out – they're going to get auctioned and they're going to get hanged.

     "I understand," she said. "So how does this work now? Am I just supposed to take off all of my clothes right now? Am I supposed to get naked in front of all of you?"

     I pointed out we have a hospital screen in one corner of the room. "If you're more comfortable," I said, "you can get undressed there."

     "Okay," she said, "and then what? After I get undressed I'll have to come out from behind the screen and I'll be naked, right?"

     I nodded.

     "So what's the point of the screen?" she asked.

     I shrugged. "Some women just feel it's easier to be there to get undressed. I just easier for some."

     Heather took a second to consider her options. She decided to go behind the screen to undress. It was a filmy white screen that started around her knees and ended below her shoulders.

     I had the sense she was amusing herself by making a little show out of getting undressed. With each article of clothing she'd take it off slow, then pause, then drape it over the top of the screen in a flirtatious way.

     When she was done she took a few deep breaths, picked up her coffee from the floor, and stepped out from behind the cover. She looked truly magnificent.

     "What now?" she asked.

     I told her should couldn't take the coffee into the holding cell.

     She got a big exaggerated pout on her face like this was a tragedy. "You all make this auction process difficult!" she said. "I ought to turn around, get dressed, and walk right out of here!" she said with mock seriousness, and smiled to herself at the joke. She took one last big swig of the drink, gave a big theatrical sigh, and tossed the cup into a nearby garbage can. She walked over to the door of the holding cell.

     I unlocked the door and held it open.

     Heather could see how spare it was, with steel mesh walls and a bare concrete floor. There was no chair, no cot.

     "So I really have to be penned up here all week before the auction?" she asked.

     I nodded.

     "It looks uncomfortable," she said.

     "It's part of the process," I said. "You'll do fine."

     "Can I get a book or a magazine?" she asked with a wry laugh. Obviously she knew the answer to her own question.

     "Hop your cute little butt into the pen, sweetheart," I said.

     She made a slight, crooked smile at that. She took a few deep breaths to build up her courage. Then she stepped inside the pen. "Ugh," she said, "I feel like I'm livestock." 

     When she was inside the pen she turned around to look at me. She watched closely as I closed the door. The door lock snapped shut with a sharp "snick."

     "You get food and water and some hygiene items. Just relax and think about a great event coming up in a week," I told her.

     "Thanks," she said. "I'll be okay," she said. She looked around, gave a bit of an embarrassed smile and said, "Maybe this is all a bit of a turn on. Is that a weird thing to say?"

     "We hear that sometimes," I said. "Just relax and enjoy yourself in the week ahead. And help the others stay upbeat too."

     She nodded.

     "When do I get the handcuffs?" she asked with a sweet, flirtatious tone and a little bat of her eyelashes.

     "We'll get you cuffed on the last day nice and snug, sweetheart," I told her. "Don't you worry about a thing."

     She smiled a bit and nodded.

     There was already one girl in the pen. She’d been watching us carefully the whole time. She was gorgeous and buxom young woman. I think she had been a school teacher. Like most in her situation she had a huge range of powerful emotions. She was scared, even terrified, thinking about what was ahead for her – a week locked up, then being taken out of the pen to be handcuffed, displayed on stage, sold and hanged. I guess anyone would be terrified. She was a sweet, sophisticated girl who was obviously feeling embarrassed and mortified to think about being locked in a pen naked for a week. She was making a huge effort to keep her arms at the side of her body – not trying to cover herself with her arms like normal female instincts would dictate. At the same time I couldn't help notice her bright eyes and a smile. She loved to watch what was going on around her. She was taking it all in. It seemed like she was excited and bubbly about the whole process and determined to make the most of the strange, unique and exciting range of feelings ahead for her.

     “Hi, I’m Heather,” Heather said to her with a nervous wave of her hand.

     “I’m Denise,” she said with a big, nervous smile.

     “I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Heather said, sounding rather chagrined.

     “Oh God I feel the same way!” Denise said.

     The two of them seemed to hit it off well. I think two other girls went into the pen later that day for a total of four. They were sisters as I recall, or maybe cousins. Anyway, they all seemed to get along well in the week ahead and they found good ways to pass the time.

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     On the big day we had no issues. The girls talked among themselves and helped each other get groomed the way we want.

     When the time was right my co-worker Karen went into the pen. Karen is a really slim, slight little girl. She joined us right out of high school has has been here for a few years. As she went in she held up handcuffs for the girls to see. “Okay, ladies,” she said with a big, cheerful smile. “Every girl likes jewelry. I've got some really fun, sexy bracelets that I know you'll all enjoy.” Karen really likes her job.

     The girls knew what to do. They lined up facing away from Karen and each one put her hands behind her back without being asked, some more eager than others. Karen likes to take her time getting each girl cuffed nice and snug, one by one. When she started with the first girl I looked at the others. It was cute – they all stood there, each one holding her arms behind her back, waiting quietly. Each one was breathing deep – that was the only hint of the whirlwind emotions they must have been feeling as they waited patiently to be cuffed. I think Heather kind of smiled when the cuffs went on and she seemed to feel okay with that. Some young women seem worried, sad or scared when the cuffs go on – others seem to like the feelings.

     When Karen was done she said, “Turn around and face me now.” She continued, “Wow – what a cute and gorgeous group of girls. God you all look fantastic,” she said with a smile. “Now we're getting close to the auction and I need you all to think about getting a great price for yourself,” she said. 

     “It takes a lot of work to get great bids. I know we can count on all of you. If you get top bids that's fantastic. It's a huge honor. Congratulations. Each of you should try for that,” she said. “If you get the low bids then shame on you! You should have tried harder. You deserve the hood of shame. I'll cheer and clap when it goes on you. And I'll clap when I see you hang and die first because you deserve to go first.”

     “When you meet the auctioneer she'll tell you how to get good bids. Pay attention. Do well. You're in the last few hours of your life. It's a bittersweet time. It'll go much better if you help each other keep a good attitude. You probably want to go out with good cheer and good style. And anyway, the audience likes to see someone who's having fun with the auction process. That'll probably help raise your the price.”

     Karen went on, “The audience wants to get a great view of all of you. And your arms and hands are not the parts they mostly want to see,” she said with a sly grin. “The handcuffs will help with that and help you get more bids. I know you're all happy about that. Also, I promise we'll take care of the noose for each of you. We don't want your little fingers to try to touch your noose or make any adjustments. So the cuffs will help the hangings go smoothly when the time comes. I know you all feel good about that too. You get to wear those cuffs for the rest of your life. They're not coming off. Think about that. You definitely want to try to smile about that, have fun and enjoy the great feelings.”

     Karen wrapped up her little speech, “I don't know why your girls want to do this. I plan on living a good, long life! Well ... sometimes I understand. Sometimes I think about what you all are doing and I feel envy. It's exciting to think about being naked and cuffed, then sold and hanged in front of a crowd. It's a fun fantasy. But I don't think I'll do it for real. I'm glad you're the ones who will be dangling soon – not me! I'll have fun watching each of you when you're lifted up off of the stage and doing your cute little death dance. Tonight, after all of you are gone, I'm going to have a lot of fun with my boyfriend because he knows how much all of this gets me turned on,” she said with a big, girlish grin. “Tomorrow I'll probably jump his bones again. Then we're planning to have brunch with friends around noon. I'll be fun. Life goes on. Well, it goes on for some of us,” she said.

     “Anyway, we need you to wait here in the pen about 60 minutes. Then we'll move you up to a holding room near the stage. Until then just relax and enjoy yourselves. Help each other keep a smile. Think about having a great event.”

     The rest of the auction process went smoothly that day.

     All the girls at that auction were quite pretty. When they all got on stage Heather made a tremendous effort to look great for the crowd and get good bids. She had a lot of competition. She didn't get the highest bids as I recall but she was close.

     When it was getting to be time for the hangings she was obviously scared, like everyone. She tried to keep a smile, like we tell all the girls to do. But it was an extremely nervous smile. And her concern ramped up to a whole new level when the first girl was hung right next to her. (Seeing a hanging from a distance is a very powerful sight. Seeing all that happen just three feet away is a whole new level of "vivid.") She saw the second hanging and it obviously had a big effect on her as well.

     As Heather's turn got close she was breathing really hard. Her chest was rising and falling a lot. That's a common reaction in a young woman who's about to meet her end, and it's very eye-catching. She was highly "perky" too, if you know what I mean, because of stress or excitement or other strong feelings. That's rather common also. 

     I was feeling very worried and apprehensive for her because she just didn't weigh a lot. Women like that sometimes have quite a long and hard and difficult time with the noose because they just don't weigh enough to get it to close up tightly in a reasonable amount of time. "Oh well," I thought. The noose always does its work in the end. It has to work – because we're not going to let her down until it does.

     Heather kept struggling hard to keep her composure. She did all the things young women do in that situation – she looked around at the crowd, she tugged on her cuffs, she looked at the other two bodies as they slowly swayed next to her, and she looked up at the rope over her head. I wondered if she regretted not seeing a hanging before now to get a better idea about what she was in for. Her eyes were as big as saucers from terror, but to her credit she didn't cry or cry out. Her small, firm breasts seemed pert. Her nipples were engorged and erect.

     When the time was right we gave her a little countdown. She gulped a few last breaths. We lifted her smoothly. Our girls don't get lifted far – just a few inches. It's enough. She put on an enormous struggle, kicking, sputtering, bucking and twisting her body with tremendous energy. Partly I figured she was having a hard time with the noose because of her light weight. But there was more to it than that – some people just don't seem to want to leave this world, at least not easily. They seem to put up an extra long and hard struggle with the rope and gravity. Heather's slim, sexy legs flailed in all directions. Her belly muscles flexed and contracted. Her hips and shoulders twisted in opposite directions as she struggled. She fought desperately with her handcuffs, but they didn't give. The crowd was rapt for quite a long time, watching her battle the noose and thrash around as she swayed and dangled helplessly in mid-air. Slowly she lost her battle. After quite a long time it was over. 

     I always wonder why a girl would volunteer. I guess each one has her own reasons. People are complicated.

[Originally submitted on Feb 17, 2019. Edited and revised since then. Last edited on Mar 14, 2019.]