two men, one sword in between

The two men faced each other only in white shorts, no belt. They were both close to 18, hard bodies, muscled. They were both gladiators. They didn't expect anything like this when it came time to enter the arena. They were both chained by manacles at their wrists. From the manacles on each hand, ran a short linked chain which ended on rubber center piece on the strangest sword they had ever seen. Essentially it was a sword with a point on either end and the rubber black coating in the center began on either side. The two men were free to hold the sword at the rubber center in order to push it at each other's stomachs! Each point was positioned over the man's belly button.

"Let the game begin!"

Rufio pushed. Darus pushed. Oh yes, they fought on pieces of wood over a large area of pointed up spikes, ladders on both sides of them and scaffolding holding up the wood. Blue eyed, Rufio was brown haired, cropped to his ears, shaven on the sides. He had a slight build as did Darus, an outtie belly button, muscled arms and legs, now straining to Darus's force, for each held the other in check. No one was yet stabbed. But both were exerting their full energy on pushing the sword, not trying to get too close to the point in front of their own belly button. Brown eyed Darus shook his head, getting his golden brown hair out of his face, lighter in complexion than Rufio.

Droplets of sweat appeared on their bodies, faces, dripping down onto their chests and finally finding a way down the center of their pecs to drip into their belly holes, a coming foretaste of liquid in their navels...which wouldn't be sweat.

They hadn't really looked at each other yet. Now, they looked each other in the eyes as they pushed, neither wanting to let up on the exerting force they were pushing toward one another. They didn't hate each other before this. Hardly knew each other. But neither wanted to lose, neither wanted to die. Both had been born slaves and this was a way out...one way or the other. Taut and lean, their washboards stood out constantly, their chests heaved.

Rufio smiled, hoping to throw Darus off. Darus didn't show any emotion, just pushed. They were dead center on the wood platform. Rufio's plan backfired. He swallowed. It was minutes now. Rufio took a step back. A mistake as it gave Darus the edge to move in. Rufio's outtie belly button had just the point of the one two man sword in it. A rivulet of blood slipped out and dripped after shooting. It didn't really hurt. For Rufio was pushing on the bar and off setting any force from his enemy.

The emperor grew bored of watching this balance of power and ordered his arches to stir things up. "But don't kill them!"

An arrow flew over Darus's shoulder and into the wood near Rufio's left foot. Neither moved. An arrow hit Darus in the back of his leg, just above his right calf. He fell to his right knee. This gave Rufio the edge now. He tore the point out of his mountainous outtie (it looked almost like a short penis, Darus, in his pain, thought). Rufio kept going, shoving the sword, holding the rubber, down at his opponent. He had a look of victory on his face, smiling in antcipation of splitting Darus's innie in two, or more. As he plunged, an arrow hit his right hip and stuck in just under hard bone of it, closer to his leg. He went down onto both knees, groaning.

Darus didn't let go of the rubber either.

The emperor made his men stop shooting arrow and smiled to watch in glee at how the two would handle this.

In more pain than Darus, Rufio arched his back and head tilted backward, in agony, gasping and yelling. As he stretched, still holding the rubber, Darus, gulping in some pain himself, saw his chance. A sparkle hit his eye. Despite being so evenly matched against a worthy opponent, he could get out of this. He shoved with all his might, taking the advantage Rufio either didn't care he had or didn't know he had or thought perhaps he would pause to allow Rufio time to recover. Well, screw that. Take advantage of any circumstances. The sparkle in his eyes as he moved the point back into the outtie mountain on Rufio's bare belly was more than just survival. This was fun! Dishing out pain while not getting it to your own belly was great!

The point sunk, reflexing Rufio's body forward. Rufio was gripping the rubber, trying to keep it from sliding at him but to no avail. The point sunk in about an inch. He tried to hold it but he couldn't. Darus was on both knees now but soon stood to angle the point down into Rufio's intestines. Rufio groaned and yelped, then tried to tighten his stomach muscles against the onslaught, "Ullllllllll," this caused. Darus groaned too but a groan of concentration. He could feel his own pre cum start on his dick head. He moved the point down. As he did, Rufio managed a last force of gathering energy. He pushed the sword up, not so much but pushed himself up, the point sinking deeper into him from this. The point hit the back of his belly hole and went on...kept going past it and into his being. He recalled an Oriental gladiator, a cell mate, who once told him the belly button is the center of our energy. He had even mediatated with this nice guy...until the guy was skewered from behind one day in the arena and from behind, a point was sticking out his belly button, a deep yellow innie, now the ultimate outtie---with attachments. Rufio knew he was soon to join him. He had to think about here and now.

The point in Rufio didn't stop him. He shoved while also rising from his kneeling position. This was enough of a shock to off balance and throw Darus. Darus got his point into his innie belly button, which before being stabbed was actually quite nice---sort of like someone took a coin and shoved it into his stomach to make it---a nice wall of smooth flesh on the circumference like an indented and neatly formed canyon. Now its walls were invaded.

Rufio stood, jabbing into Darus as hard as he could. As fast as he could. Which wasn't too fast. They were locked together in pain and death cumming. As they jerked their own bodies, their stomachs were further ripped. Ripped abs being ripped. Cut abs being cut.

Rufio looked at Darus; Darus looked at Rufio. They both smiled at each other. Both enjoyed this, their destiny. THey didn't hate each other, even now. It was simply a job. They winced, grit teeth, and shut eyes for a while. Rufio moved in, Darus slumped a bit and Rufio stood up, angling the sword down. Darus tried to move the sword from side to side, causing Rufio some more pain as the point bit into his left side and then his right--all stemming from his belly button, now a mangled mess of flesh hanging below the point---some of it anyway. Some of it was being meshed into his stomach and it felt like out his back.

Both looked at one another. Darus nodded to off the wood. Rufio shook his head. He knew what the other was thinking. Cumming, the two moved closer to the edge, which didn't take long. As one, they flung themselves off the side...

which did two things...or more...it had the effect of making the sword point rip right out of Rufio's belly, dangling intestine and interior juice everywhere splattering. The chain turned and twisted between the two. In his burst of hyperness, Darus gripped the sword more than ever, thrusting it into himself to cause himself a quick death. That failed. He died slowly as his body turned and was stuck just beneath his belly button by a major spike point.

As he was turned, Rufio hit the spike near Darus but it went into his back andout his belly button just like his dead Oriental friend. The two writhed and died in pain. They shot loads in their torn shorts.

The Emperor yawned, "Next?"

Between the two men's lifeless hands, the chains dangled the sword, blood on both tips along with boy innards. An Oriental energy filled the sword and shot the chains off. The energy also made the sword fly up and hit the bastard Emperor in his belly, the sword tearing into it. He died before the two men below him. He yelled like a stuck pig.

"Good," Rufio and Darus said along with lots of the crowd.

In the audience, after the clamor, a young boy asked his father, "WHo's fighin next? I wanna see em gutted an all."