The orcess was six and a half feet of green muscle and barely checked aggression. She snarled as one of the correctional officers locked her wrists behind her back and led her out of the cell. I looked up at her, admiring her sculpted body and statuesque form. It was my first day as a hangman at Bellau, and this orc woman was my first "client".

Prisoner 778390, government name Liza Redrock, had participated in a bank robbery that ended in a 2 hour long shootout through the heart of the downtown district. With 5 police officers and 3 innocent bystanders left dead, and most of her crew also killed, it was no surprise that the judge had decided to sentence her to the long drop. I had to admit, despite the genetic disposition towards brutal physiology that her species was known for, Liza was attractive. Her figure was curvacious, with long legs, powerfully muscular thighs, full breasts that pushed her orange jumpsuit towards its limits, and a sharp, chiseled face framed with black dreads that beheld the world in stoic contempt. She was also, according to the prisoner file, a futanari. I glanced down at her crotch, and noted the telltale bulge.

Death Row was situated in the north west corner of the prison, the closest block to the execution grounds. In the center of a secluded open yard stood the gallows. A wooden platform elevated 14 feet off the ground, a simple A frame cross bar with a coiled hemp noose looped over top. I went up the stairs first, to check the rope and the trap door were in working order. Liza steadily climbed up after me, flanked by the officers.

"Please, stand on top of the X" I instructed her, the noose in hand.

She turned to face me and walked forward until both her slipper shod feet were on the trapdoor. I secured her ankles and legs together with a belt then wrapped a band around her stomach and arms.

It was a blazing summer day, and everyone present had begun to perspire under the oppressive humidity. I stood close to Liza and slipped the noose over her head, guiding the knot under her left ear. She stared forward resolutely, but I could see her eyes nervously flicking towards me, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead and cheeks. I reached into my vest pocket and retrieved the blindfold, wrapping it over her eyes and clipping the bands together under her voluminous locks. I stepped back and checked my watch. It was all going on time, with her execution set for 11:45AM, two minutes in the future.

The chaplain came and whispered a few words in Liza's ear. She said something back, and the chaplain clasped his hands together and muttered a few words of prayer. It was almost time. The chaplain and the correctional officers retreated, and I held the lever that would release the pins and let the trapdoor swing free. Seconds ticked down like molasses.

I pulled at exactly 11:45:00. Liza dropped 6 feet, the length required to generate the forces sufficient to give a clean separation of the cervical vertebrae of Liza's 185lb body. Her head twisted as the full length of the rope snapped taut, her body bouncing with a dull crack. Then it was over. Her body swung, not from any force generated by an asphyxiating body, but of the residual kinetic energy from the long drop. I watched as she settled. Her jumpsuit was tented at the crotch, her penis hardening as blood pooled in her lower regions. Grimacing, I made a note to offer a diaper to the next prisoner I would deal with.