They were there for a reason and they all knew what they were there for: the gym was rented out. Some were in shorts, cut off denims, bathing suits, thongs, loin cloths, one wore a loin cloth of an American Indian. They were all young men, all different looking, some similar. All muscled. Some lean and skinny, some marble like, all hairless, some with veins standing out on their necks, pecs, lower young belly leading the way toward their member. Some were smooth and not too muscled but lean and undefined, somehow making it even sexier looking. Almost all held one knife in one hand, a sword in the other, one or two had opted for a sole spear, no knife, no sword.

They stood all around the walls of the wooden gym, which would be opened again on Monday morning by another fan. No questions asked, he knew all the answers. None of these knew each other before this. Most were already hard with anticipation. A few looked scared, their eyes betraying the fact that they didn't know what they were getting into...or what would soon be getting into them.

There were red heads with blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes, black eyes, freckles along their bellies, shoulders and along their backs, a few had long red hair points--tails--running from their head down their otherwise hairless backs, redheads with knotted outtie belly buttons, the sharp double points of a knife would soon be butchering those knots into several dangling bits.

Sexy blondes with blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes. Soft features and fear trying to be camaflaged by a toughness that just wasn't there...or was it? The Adam's apple rising and falling on a slender atheletic neck. A flat belly button with no distincitive features, almost rising to the outer ridge that almost was. Muscled legs, hairless as the semi-bodybuilder chest and ribbed sides. False bravado and innocence mixing into a warrior. All wanted to win, all wanted to lose, all wanted to really FEEL it.

Dark Filipinos, Chinese, paler than those, Japanese with cold faces, hiding smiles that wouldn't relent in the face of their own utter cruelty which would follow...or the massive cruelty of one sticking them. Silky black hair, some long, some so short as to be almost bald, some so long as to be a hindrance, hairless, darker ones with green eyes. Slender stomachs with navels that just begged to be cut, entered by some steel weapon. Hips to come down from the upper torso, thick thighs with muscular chicken meat up to the iron board washboard stomach. Deep belly buttons, outties, innies, all dark, tanned, Oriental.

Arab young men with ridged worm like stomach holes and cold faces, smiles of far from perfect teeth as if they would stab you as soon as drink with you. Deadly eyes, cold, uncaring for good and rightness.

No one guy was in front of another. All were lined up around the huge gym room, it being empty except for the hard waxed wood floor and a few bleachers which were stocked inward. An automatic whistle blew on a mike---from a tape deck inside. The young men were on each other in a flash. Knives dug deep tunnels in slow moving bellies. Blondes gasped and doubled up, their well sectioned lined stomachs over hard metal, which entered their soft belly buttons.

Groans, cries, gasps of shock, of pain, of pleasure rang out as did the clanging of steel. Young men fought over the rolling bodies of the slower ones who were jabbed in the middles.

A dark haired muscle dude, an Arabian looking youth drove home a curved sword right into the tender belly of a lean pale Swedish looking ypung man, the belly button caving in under the curve. As he went down, he managed to drive up both his knives forward into the Arab's stomach and then swish their positions, effectively cutting both sides of his belly button, a large snake like affair, from one of its sides through the middle to the other. Pain like you wouldn't believe. Both smiled as they went down, driving thier respective weapons in as hard as they could.

A marble like stomach of stone hard muscles which looked as if they couldn't be beat, were penetrated by a short broadsword point--at the navel. The shocked look on the guy who owned the nice body showed that he thought his well worked on frame and worked out body would be able to resist or stop anything. Which of course was bull. For the elbow of the dude driving home the metal point moved inward and inward and inward. The guy was stuck right out his back and into the wooden bleachers behind him. He could feel their cold wood as his back hit them. The guy sticking him was not as muscled. Lean and smooth, hairless body, he looked like a mere kid. He smiled as he drove home the sword into the bleachers, not realising his victory would be short--unlike his penis which grew in his elastic banded blue gym shorts. For from behind, another youth, a freckled redhead with a tail, had just punctured the belly of a fair haired Italian jock, a broad shouldered guy with strong brown eyes and a stocky body but non well too defined abs--smooth and lean but stretched out across a pair of nice hips, bony but somewhat clay like at the same time. The Italian went down, "Ohhhhhh, ahhhhhh. No! Yeah! Oaaaaaaahuhgggg!"

When he did, the redhead didn't waste time, for he unplugged the Italian, who grabbed at the deep hole in his previously shallow balloon ending looking belly button, and the redhead reached around the bare side of the hairless bodies kid and found his navel, then sliced from navel backward, chopping above hip and out the back, cutting half the kid's side from his bottom. He tried to turn but the redhead reached around the other side with his shorter, second and serrated knife and just jabbed in quickly and removed it just as quickly. The youth in front, blond, went down slowly, trying to turn and only half succeeding. He half faced his killer as he went down.

A spear went into the redhead's stomach as he turned to take on another. The spear was held by a long haired Greek teenager with dark tanned body. And great abs and black leather shorts and tie up boots. The kid stabbing the redhead smiled a nice set of teeth at him and the redhead grabbed the spear in him and dropped both his knives. "Oaaaaaaaa! Ullllll." He fell backward. The Greek let the spear follow as a natural motion and then continued to stab down...the redhead tried to hold it back but the Greek just needed to apply alittle of his weight to make the redhead arch his back as the point of the spear drilled into his navel and out it and into the meat behind it.

It was like this all over the gym.

Not one of the youthful men realized they were being watched. Above on the roof of the gym were sky light windows, reflecting the carnage and what seemed a bit like sex to the two watching. Two young men, were wide eyed at first, at this horror. One had blond-brown hair, to his shoulders, wide hips and slender, bare belly between with a vertical slit navel, wide horizontally just enough to see flat wrinkles and hills inside. He had on a pair of elastic red gym shorts and a pleated short cut top, short to his nipples, just exposing them a bit. He and his pal, a brown haired Irish kid were laying on the roof, looking in. They now crouched onto their knees to watch. The young man with him was topless and well built but short, shorter than the first young man. His abs were better, well defined and hard, his hips closer together and his frame smaller but more muscled. He wore denim cut offs, the top button open, a rip in the upper left leg. His belly, when he was doubled up, looked like it had three belly buttons. His real one was deep but with a heavy ridge around it to make it look somewhat outtie as well as innie. Karate had toned his entire body but especially his small pecs and his abs.

The young men' looks of horror turned to enjoyment as they took in the entire menagerie of death and battle below. Slowly smiles drew upon their faces. Every once in a while they looked at one another, sometimes at the same time. One would close his eyes and say, "Ohhhh," as they seemed to feel the hit of another against their body, identifying with the ones taking it in their stomachs so brutally.

At other times, they felt the guy that was getting it or guys getting it deserved it since they were weaker than the one stickin them. "He got him! Ohhh, man, good! Good for him and he should have gotten it. He sucked! Look his belly is sucking it now!" Short laughs. Long extensions in their shorts.

Below, metal seemed to find its way into wood, through heavy flesh mounds. Washboard stomachs played host to long, solid, life taking steel. A few were ripped apart as the blades were fooled with, played with, wriggled inside. Sometimes the dying guy's movements of spasms and anguish would make it tear at him more, causing him more pain and making it a circular cycle of pain, spasm, more pain from spasm, more spasms! The two young men above could also hear quite a bit, one of the windows they had pried open gave them access to the groans of the dying and the victory cries of the stickers.

The shirtless young man, Fred, looked at the young man, Chuck, next to him take in the massacres below. He then looked Chuck's body over, those lean bits between short cut shirt and elastic on short's top. Those meaty legs. That navel...

Navels were being torn asunder below. A blond with a perfect washboard, iron board, had a Native American with long black hair, take two knives and put them, not too roughly, his washboard slide, one on either side, taking it in a bit. Sticking against and somewhat into the sides of the skin just off the washboard and horizontally even with the navel. The blond didn't want to move, thinking he had to buy himself some time to get out of this. Bad move. There was no way out. But the Native American knew there was a way in...into this kid before him and at his mercy.

He poked a bit deeper into the sides of the washboard, just a sixty degree angle from hip to washboard side on each side. A small trickle came down from each tiny hole. The blond gulped and looked into the eyes of the Native American Indian young man with fear. The Native smiles and looked into the other's eyes with fierce animalistic rage.

Then without notice, he crisscrossed the knives, sliced the belly from washboard side to lean across the middle of the ironboard---horizontally meeting the navel, slicing the sides a bit. The body of each knife crisscrossed against the other directly over the shallow and flat, undefined innie belly button of this kid. The crisscross of metal tightened over the navel which was ridgeless. "No, please," the blond squeaked, tears in his eyes, his Adam's apple rising and falling, his breath heavy with fear. Sweat beaded down his forehead, his pecs, his shoulders and under arms. To the Native American, it felt and smelt good.

He chuckled. The Native American then dragged the knife points from each side to the middle of the belly so the body of each knife met right in the navel but from the side of the washboard, effectively stabbing the blond from each side, both knives now moved straight with each other and pointed in the butchered belly. The Native American dark guy moved both knives inward with a quick jab and didn't have far to go to come out the kid's back. He cut up now and the points both popped out the kid's upper back between shoulder blades. The kid gulped, sucked in air and couldn't say or do anything as he hunched over the blades. The Native young man moved him across the floor toward a wall but never made it. Both fell over an embraced couple grappling on the floor. One brown haired Irish young man stabbed his knife down at another young man, a Chinese with lots of muscles, more than the Irish young man. The Irish dude made the Chinese dude's belly button, a center of massive ab muscles, play host to his three pronged dagger--the middle prong hitting first and going in. The Chinese dude tensed and arched quickly but fell back, under the Irish dude. But he rolled himself over the Irish one and brought his knife from low just above the Irish kid's leg where leg met torso and cut upward until he reached the belly button area, then sunk as deep and as hard as he could go.

Another Oriental, a slender but well endowed guy in a singlet with an open front, a front which displayed a stomach and chest area, petite but slender and smooth, tanned and olive colored, had a large spear he was using against a Japanese dude who had on a short cut orange vest. He ringed the spear around the trident of the Japan dude but the Japan dude, acting as if he were taken by surprise, wasn't. He took his trident which had two prongs on the side---longer prongs than the center of the spear, which had a middle prong that sort of hung back--but was serrated on both sides. This trident's side prongs found their way into the upper and lower area just above and below the dark Filipino belly button, a mixture of outtie and innie. The prongs cut deep and the guy gasped and tried to bear his spear onto the Japanese dude, who smirked miserably and happily.

The Native on the floor was gutted by the blond and both were speared by a redhead with a streak of green running down his mid head and a tail. That redhead was stabbed from behind and found his stomach now playing spasms with the point of a sword out his belly button, which was all the place, covering his lower stomach and its sides. Dripping down his crotch.

The Filipino dude saw his dilemma: the trident mid point, not yet in him, was being forced right toward his belly button. The other two prongs were deep set in, one above his belly ridge and the other below, just. Both he and the Japan guy, felt wetness ooze out of their penis slits. Both smiled, one a smile o death readiness, the other a smile of victory and brutality. The smiles seemed to meld to the faces of the young men above who watched. The Japan guy forced the Filipino backward. The Filipino stood his ground, spear in him and all. The Trident main mid point stuck into the belly button center, deeply. The Filipino threw his head back, tightened his stomach muscles, voluntarily or absent reaction, Fred and Chuck couldn't tell. Both young men were in awe over this and gasps from them couldn't do it justice. They focused on this over all the other one on one fights (and there were some that were more than one on one).

The Japan guy tightened his grip on the thick spear and moved it in. But as he did, he also turned it, round and round, using the center as a pivot. The deeper prongs circled the belly button, round and round, cutting the ridge a bit but mostly circling it and causing the skin around it to go inward, making his belly hole stick out more, a bloody pulp surrounding it. Cutting a new belly hole but making it an outtie. The mountain that was his new belly hole outtie took the full force of the Japan guy's thrust deep. The Filipino hunched his shoulders and threw out his back but still tried to take it. He couldn't. He threw his head up and back, his neck veins standing out, his mouth a grimace of extreme pain.

"Awwww."

"Kewl!"

"Finish him!"

"Cut it off!"

The Japan guy did just that. Swiveling the spear, obtensively to get it out but probably more to cause as much pain as possible, mangled the belly button he had just created. The thing was a mess of blackness, red blood, flesh tones. It fell off. Then the Japanese guy did something even cooler. He took the spear out and then re-plunged it into the same area! All three prongs cut deep. He took it out and pressed something on the handle near his hand. All three prongs met each other as he plunged yet again. The Filipino fell off the spear and backward into a wall. The Japan dude followed and heaved it into him yet again! He flung it up, using both hands on the spear and the body of the darker one rose against the wall. His eyes shut.

"Oh shit. He ain't fully dead yet!"

"Shit yeah! This is doin things to me!"

The pull out. The body fell, hands glued to the pulp of a once stomach.

More death, more fights. The young men wanted to look away, too excited but couldn't. They found themselves thinking, wanting, hoping to be a part of this.

The floor was a mass of kicking, spasming, embracing, jerking, jolting, shivering bodies, some fully bare, naked as their flimsey loin cloths, thongs, or string hold on codpieces were cut off. It looked like an orgy. For some, it was. Penises spurted covering bellies already messed with gore, reddness, and glory.

A few guys still stood, victory in every fiber of their being, their knives or swords or spears covered in the flesh of other dudes or the gore and blood of others. Intestines hung limply off a pitchfork.

Another guy, locked in mortal combat with another dude, had dropped his weapon. A dying guy near the pair was heaving his stomach upward, holding his lower belly. A point was out his belly button. The guy nearest him who had dropped his weapon, reached over and saw his oppurtunity. He grabbed the shaft sticking out of the dying hunk and held it just below the sharp point. He heaved it out of the wide eyed dying one and wielded on his attacker who held one of his wrists as he held the attacker's knife wrist. The attacker got an intestine covered spear, a belly button on the end, still attached, into his own. The pusher of this spear, lost track of what was happening, caught up in his bloodlust, which could be dangerous. One could kill friend and foe when this happened, or one's self, or make bad mistakes. Bad if you didn't want to get stuck. Which this guy did want. He must have wanted it. The knife found its way, a reflex of death spasm by the guy gettin the new spear in him. The knife dragged between and then down the pecs of the spear holder. Deeper and deeper as it got lower and lower. Then in more. The dying dude leaned on the spear guy, getting the spear straight through him and out his bare back while at the same time, getting his knife and its hilt and part of his hand up to his wrist buried in the raging guy killing him. Both grunted death and victory grunts.

The young men above were practically cumming. Their penis heads urged and stretched, Fred's up his denim open shorts; Chuck's at the elastic band of his bathing suit, the white tie ropes came undone to make room.

Slowly, Fred took out, from his denim short pocket, on the left side, a small pocket knife...he flicked it open...Chuck didn't see. He was still looking down. Fred took another one out of his right pocket and opened it, one in each hand now...what would he do?

Part 2