--I have taken lots of liberty with the story and with what happens just before the Herc boy's torture...

The muscled dude was an insurrectionist, the young prince knew.

He was now holding up the blocks. Three now, more later. He was almost naked, wearing just a loin cloth. His muscles were large and his abs were tight and stuck out. The prince thought he must have worked out a lot but not right--abs are supposed to stick in not out. Still it was hot. The prince wanted to end it there by sticking his royal sword into those abs and moving it about but he controlled himself. This was better.

Stone slabs were place ontop of the dude via a sliding mechanism held up on two sides by a scaffold and posts. Muscled mole men, as they all were down here, wearing hairy masks, the only hair on them besides their long white albino hair no their head, dropped a fourth stone slab. These slabs weighed about a 1000 pounds each. The bottom slab was always there. The man held onto it by his hands,palms flat out and he tried to prevent it from falling. Which, at first was easy. On the bottom of the bottom slab were three curved swords with very sharp gleaming points. Positioned over a small altar on the right side of the hero, two of these three were poised so that they would skewer the nipples of the hero's white and muscled but younger blond friend Sven. Before the nipple swords would enter, a longer sword would curve its way into his young pal's bare belly button. The boy would jerk upward and drive the swords into his nipples a moment sooner. Why delay the inevitable. On the other side, the hero's younger latino friend Angelo lay in a similar predicament, his dark, hairless and smooth skin unaware of the mutilation awaiting it. His curvy boy body, smooth hills between hips and up to his well seen ribs, would enjoy this. The boys were spread with their hands over thier heads in manacles and their legs spread apart, manacled at the ankles. The hero was in the center. He seemed about to lift the stones up when the prince boy nodded, his own pale albino body tensing in muscular glee, his eyes red and his white hair strung over his shoulder by one hand. His belly button was red for some reason, an innie with an outtie extension coming from within.

Another and another stone slab was placed on. The boys were not yet host to the metal pain. The points were not far now. The hero strained and sweated, "I...I am sorry. I cannot....ughhhh. Forgive me..."

The blond spoke in an angelic voice, "Do not worry, my friend." He took his eyes off the swords for a moment to look at the hero, "I do not hold it against you."

The Latino stud-twink on the other side said pretty much the same in a dainty voice, "It is not your fault." He looked at the prince with resentment, "...but his. We know you tried to do the best you could."

The albino boy yelled at that, "But we all know it is not good enough, don't we! Add another stone slab...and another! Kill them all! Kill! Or I will see to it you die in pain yourselves in the heat of the sun room!"

The mole men on top, who writhe at the feel of the sun on their bodies, put more on.

The hero actually seemed to be able to push the stone slabs upward some but as the swords rose, Angelo looked at them. The swords lowered again and more. The point hit his back belly wall. The ridge around was untouched, his swirl extending in and more noticable now. "Awww! Owww! Oh no!" He moved his stomach inward to keep the point away as much as possible but knew it was no use.

Sven's outtie played host to a point, too. It didn't go too deep yet but as he strained to pull his legs and wrists free of the bonds, his upper body rose up, spasm-like. This gave the effect of making him meet the point more. It stuck into his knob like a straw into an ice cream malted. A small river of blood came out and formed a pool atop his swirly outtie mountain top. He groaned.

The hero pushed more. Up and up. The sword point near the nipples moved up and away. The bloody point came up out of the smooth young rolling body of Angelo. He sighed in pain...and pleasure, "Ahhhhhh. Yeah. Ahhhh. Oh yeah," he sighed under his breath at first. Later, he didn't care if anyone heard. "Yeah. bring it on, baby!"

Sven smiled and threw his head back as if to be thankful for life as the swords moved up and away. The hero was doing it. He was moving the slabs upward. Another slab slapped down. "Two, three, at one time or die in the sun room, you slaves!" The prince wanted them dead.

Sven yelled, "Just kill us now!"

"No, you will be prolonged!"

The heavy hits of the stones made the boys' hearts sink...and the stones made the swords sink. The belly buttons were impaled sharply and deeply. The back walls of the belly button tunnel of each boy was punctured...and the swords kept sliding. The hero had enough. He couldn't force it up anymore. He too would die beneath the slabs.

Angelo was dying noisily. His body was jerking up and down, up and down, held only by the manacles. Sven looked at him, gritting his own teeth with blood. He thought that if the Latino kept it up, he would pry himself free of the chains and manacles. Then Angelo, stuck by the two nipple swords, thrust himself up one last time. He seemed to stick up there on the swords. He did. His belly was up the furthest, a mound to be pierced by the main sword. The two nipples were gone, pushed far into the boy's chest.

Sven realized his own pain. He was so busy watching Angelo he didn't realize his own horror. He looked down---his stomach pushed in under two forces...his own to try to make it a smaller target...it couldn't go back any further---without the sword...for the sword was pushing everything back and back and back onto the marble altar beneath his back. He wanted to hold his stomach, which was quite chiseled for someone his tender age, until he died. He didn't want the prince to have the satfisfaction of seeing his young boy meat rising back up onto the sword..especially the belly one. His wish was not to be done. As anyone would, he let go of himself and his stomach rose---sliding upward. Sven moved himself a bit upward, letting the two swords pierce his nipples. Yet he still didn't die. At least, Angelo was...

...still alive. To his shock, he heard the Spanish boy still moaning lithely, lightly. The pain he was in stuck up there with his buttox off the ground...the sword at his belly was out his back and Sven could see it but didn't care any more.

"Die already! Both of you!"

The hero said, "Shutup!"

Sven gulped and looked at his mangled beautiful body. Spent. Skwered. Thrust upon a stake like some duck. "Let it go. Let it rip us."

"No! There is still a chance," the hero pushed, feeling his head on the slab now. It was too late. It was pushing him down. He gathered up a full force of energy and pushed. The points rose again...and horridly, Angelo's stuck body..no just his stuck belly, began to rise with it. He was being torn apart, screaming now in panic. Something popped, a noise through the air and something popped, jolted out of Angelo's stomach--his full belly button was exacted out of his stomach, intestines attached. The hero couldn't do anything to save him but he kept pushing to save Sven.

The prince came forward and took out his royal white crystal sword, "There is no chance! Feel this!" He stuck the needle point right into the hero's massive, round bellybutton, churning the inner parts of the innie and meshing the outtie extensions within. The hero kept pushing upward. At first, shocked that the hero persisted, the prince now took relish in needling his white crystal in, "Oh yeah! Feel that through and through, do you?" He stuck it in fast at first but now slowed it. About three inches were in the hero and yet the muscleman pushed upward.

Sven gasped, "Not worth it." Rivers of blood came from his navel area and his nipples-that-were.

The prince laughed, "Like it, Sven boy? Your pal is now feeling some of the agony you are! Admit you are glad he is."

"Go get a sun tan, fuck face!"

The prince couldn't reach Sven but he took out his anger on the hero, pushing in, now twisting and churning. He popped it out the hero's back. The hero grunted and seemed to die in the position. The slabs came down toward the altars, the very things holding them up---crushing Angelo, Sven, and the hero. Before it did, they screamed in terror and agony. The prince moved back, leaving his sword stuck in the belly of the hero---about five inches in now. He laughed as the three died beneath it.

"Good! Good! Good for ya! So die all those who oppose the might of the Mole Prince! Bring out Hercules next! Guards, do you hear me?"

The guards were in estascy over the deaths and several were creamin white in their shorts but who would see. Their skin was white anyway. Blood ran out from under the slabs. Suddenly, a large man, brought in, Hercules, broke free. Two guards ran to protect the prince. Hercules knocked other guards out of his way. He saw a stack of spears in a vase like structure and ran to it, kicking a mole man down en route. He grabbed the spears and flung two, one in each hand letting fly. The mole men on top the slabs, who were dropping them, got the thick crytal white spears into their stomachs, a new giant belly button hole ripped around their own old navel. They didn't know what to do so screaming, they grabbed onto the shafts and fell. One hit the slab top. Another landed on the prince, who was yelling for someone to get this body off him.

Three guards obeyed. Hercules grabbed up more spears.

The prince was up. Two guards helped him up while the third raised a smaller black spear to hurl at Hercules. "Get in front of me, you idiots!" The prince was behind two mole men, "But get him! I'll stick him in the belly myself! Move it!" He pushed the three guards onward. The front one let his spear fly but Hercules hit it away with a giant spear, a thick wooden one, the last one in the vase thing now. He let it fly. The spear hit the first guard and went into him. He hugged the shaft sticking into his stomach and out his back and into the guard behind him. Behind that jerking guard, who didn't have time to scream, stuck to the back of the front guard via the spear shaft, was the third guard. Caught, he saw the back of the second open up and point a blurry object at his belly hole, which like all the guards was bare to the world. It entered and in a flash was out his back too.

"What is going on? What is this? Why are we stopping?!!!" The prince did not realize what happened to them...and to him. "Oh." He looked down at his stomach. It was host to a spear point. Hercules ran up to them and pushed it in some more, making the trio quiver and shake, groan and beg. The prince laughed, "Go ahead, you bastard above surface freak. Do me. Do us!" Hercules obliged.

"As you wish, my prince. Feel your death as you have felt the deaths of these good men whom I knew."

Herc pushed and the back of the prince was split open by the wood point, the gore of three others mixed with the boy's dripping from it. The prince jerked and with spasming effort, pulled himself off the spear, which fell to one side. The three stuck guards did a little dance and toppled. The prince stood there and looked at Hercules, who smiled at him.

Just then the white princess ran in with a multitude of guards who surrounded Hercules with jagged ended spears pointed at his every body part. "He killed my brother. Put the slabs up and bring me his Italian and his Sumerian friends. Put them beneath the blades. He and they will feel the wrath of the sister mole woman."

WE NOW REJOIN THE SON OF HERCULES VS. THE MOLE MEN as it really happened...