Gladiators On The Web...
Suffering Stars Part One

"I write this waiting to be killed or to kill. I don't know when it happened. Or when it could have been avoided. Well, let me see. It happened in about the year 2002, I think. Poverty levels increased as did the paychecks of celebrities, movie stars, athletes, and such. The common people in the streets had had enough. In the USA alone, major riots took place. The policitians were the first to go, straight away killed. For they were getting their 100 dollar haircuts on the sweat of the people. They used government jets, private planes, free parking, all on the taxes of millions. No one wanted them around any more. They sucked. Liars all. Sucking us all dry. No one was sorry to see em go. Their families were spared though, which I found commendable. The next target were sports stars, for these lowlifes were making more money than even politicians, and were drug dealers, addicts, rapists. They didn't go easily. For sports stars are physically able and put up a great fight. They weren't killed. Almost all of them were collected up, rounded up and tranquilized. Singers and musicians, troublemakers some, were captured and the same happened. Rap and rock stars were caught, some of the biggest offenders and hypocrits--here they were singing about poverty and killing cops and shit as well as being free while they were making a great life for themselves on the money of the fans they fooled. They even started riots themselves and endorsed riots and cop killings while sitting in their penthouse apartments watching it all on TV. Then it came to movie and TV stars. All caught relaxing, even Arnold, Stallone, Mel, Jet Li, Dolph Lundreen. Oh, by the way, the females of these groups, were just jailed or killed, they were too annoying.

The males of all these groups were separated into two large colluseums. They were trained, those who needed to be, and set out in an arena.

The wonder of the sword held in the muscular arm of a muscular 18 year old blond haired male enter the belly button of a 17 year old. The sword was a Talon Sword, for the names of the weapons are more important than our own names. It entered the victim's belly straight on. And slid in. I could tell the glee in the face of the blond. I also took some pleasure, vile as it is, in the look of pain and anguish on the face of the other. His mouth opened wide, then his teeth grit, his lips still parted. His body, almost fully bare, stood erect, trying to take it like a good warrior. A good gladiator. It was a good body. Muscled but not more so than the semi-long haired blond stabbing him toward his eventual death. He had long brown hair tied back in a knot, which now came loose in his shaking head, spasming body. Yet I could see he wanted to remain as still as he could. He didn't drop his Split Tipped Sword, proving what a real man he was. Fool. Perhaps he would try, if he could, and it didn't look like he would be able to, to stab the enemy as he drew near. The dying boy had bright brown eyes, a handsome face, not surprising as we all us stars had handsome faces. This one was more child-like than others of us. His yelp as he was stuck was alluring. He also tried not to groan at all but failed in that. His "ulllllll" was deeply heard. And felt--by just him. Could the rest of us feel anything any more? I wondered.

As the blood slowly seeped from his belly button, what could escape through the embedded sword body, toward the dying's thong, I could feel my own fluid seeping in my own thong. I reached down to feel and spread it but didn't dare look away from the embrace going on in the arena.

>From that "ulllll" I could tell the stuck kid was trying to harden his stomach muscles against the Talon---like I said, a fool. The blond headed one grunted, too, a grunt of valor and pride in his kill. I heard him say something loud and clear, "Die. Go ahead and harden your stomach--it won't do any good against my sharp and ripping sword! I'm the better!" The blond was once a guard but was now made to fight as a gladiator. His name was Scott Michealson or something like that. He was well known in his native Australia for being in some soap opera called NEIHBORS or some such shit. He was also in the second season of that NEW FLIPPER show and I think I once saw a nude pic of him lying belly down on a beach. His Talon was something like 9 meters in length with a mass of 1 kilogram. His arm flexed as he put it in.

The dying boy swallowed and moved back, some of the Talon ripping out, an almost sliding motion. But Scott followed him and stuck deeper, his bloodlust not fulfilled. He drove the sword at the boy's stomach and the entire boy toward one wall of the arena, a large white brick affair which showed much gore when contents of someone's innards splatt against the whiteness. The stuck boy was Kristian Schmidtt, a dark Australian. Oddly enough, he has been on NEIHBORS, too, but not at the same time as Scott had. Scott left a long time before Kris came on. Kris, also guest starred on NEW FLIPPER's first season once...as a crook. He also played one of the 1990's version of THE TOMORROW PEOPLE.

One of Kris's hands went to the sword to hold it as it drove in him. His back moved off the wall, a spasm or a conscious effort to resist by the boy, I do not know.

He drew in more air. I could see his blood drip mixed with his thong point, for a point at his penis was formed. He was aroused by the sharpness of pain delving into him. threw his head up. To be free at last. To not have to choose sides. He felt that point mixing with his intestine beginning, driving through the skin at the back of his belly button. He enjoyed it but as he became wet through his thong, Kris drew a knife, cut the thong off, and put his knife back in his hip holster. He mightily grabbed the wet cock and heaved upward as if to pull it off with his bare hand. Blood from the belly button seeped down toward the crotch, missing the cock entirely. Pre cum dripped simultaneously with the blood.

"Ahhhhhhh," Kris gasped, "Yeahhhhhh. Uggggg. Kill me now, man, now!"

"No," Scott spat as if he hated Kris but he didn't, just loved the kill so much, "You'll last a lot longer."

"Puhhh, puh--uhhhhgghh, please."

"No, feel it! Feel this!" Scott tugged the sword out and then back in and harder this time. I could see the tiny point of the thing starting to come out the back of the boy as they seemed to switch places, Scott mastering the boy to do so. I think he did this for my benefit, to prove something to me. Maybe he thought he's be spared later, since he fought so...savagely and without mercy. I couldn't care if he would die along with Kris. As long as I could watch. I was not cognizant of grabbing myself and reaching through the upper band of my thong, jerking till I came a large load all over my own chiseled abs. Not until the drip started me feeling like I was getting hard again.

I looked down for a moment, then back up. I saw the Talon point edge out of Kris's lower back a bit more, some yellow-green-red stuff on it, wirery things, once a part of Kris's bodily system.

Then Scott flung the boy around again and back to the wall. I heard the point hit brick. Scott jerked the boy, drove the sword in more and then out fully. Kris spasmed but from his joy juice shooting or from the intense pain of having an open tunnel where his belly button should have been, I could not tell. Anyway, the tunnel wasn't there long. Scott drove the sword back in and this time jerked it downward but inside the belly, carving intestine. Cracks of blood formed along the outer skin as the sword did its damage from within. Scott at the same time, continued to jerk the boy who spasmed through it all, holding back the contents of his balls.

Then Scott found the boy's own sword up and digging into his lower bare white boy belly, the freckles now splintered with red...blood. Kris's balls cracked and his load shot up at his own upper belly, caking at his top abs and lower chest, similarly covering Scott's now open belly and upper chest. What a flood of white! Kris's double tip went the other way, down into Scott. All he had strength for. Down and down, twisting its own inside Scott, who screamed a loud one. More of surprise than shock. At first. Cum dripped along Scott whose own cock sprung out of his thong, white headed and ready to release.

"Arggghhhawakkkguhhh. Ulllllghhhguggghlllll." I could hardly tell who was gasping what as their dying moans drowned each other out. Scott tried to pull away and out of Kris's belly but Kris was now moving forward...into the sword that was in him. The point thudded out his back some more, dripping. Kris smiled, I could see that. And it brought me back to a full erection. He liked the pain he was feeling and dishing out.

I thought back. I used to be like them. I am like them now, again. That doesn't make sense. They and I were on top of the world as stars. Perhaps there is something more sinister to this. Something...alien. A horrid experiment. One to relieve the boredom of a race of alien immortal muscle men, who were eternally between 9 and 18 younger years old. They must, like the stars they tormented through the captors and keepers of us, were all good looking, glassy eyed, blond, blue eyes, brunette, green eyes, they had a range of every look, just as we warriors do. But they could die. But I get ahead of myself. There is so much I shouldn't reveal this early on.

It was not to be mocked. This life of ours. We knew little of an outside world or of the universe any more. Almost nothing at all. It soon became something of a fantasy of ours...to get out. Other things didn't add up: robotic training centers where machines would raise us, train us. We were all sleeping, eating, washing, in the same building, an open area with few walls or doors. It wasn't too bad. It was sanitary. Our captors could not have their only source of interest dying of other things. They...we were for being stuck in the arena in more ways than one.

Rules were simple. You fight or their elite guard---would kill. The guards were also from among the captives. Bended were elite Gladiators all of whom, like most of (but not all of) the guards, were from also taken stars. Most of the time, they made you fight the one you were closest to. A friend. A lover, A sleep mate. You refuse, the mate, the opponent has first crack at you. If not, he dies too, by the guard, the Bended, or an caretaker himself was known to come down and kill or sometimes combinations of the above. If your opponent was wounded, you would have to check to see if he were or if he were faking or dead. The wounded would have to be pleasured in some way, jerked to cum fulfillment, or have something stuck up them from behind....some sexual pleasure that made them jerk to their own deaths...sometimes jerking onto a sword or spike some more. Sometimes fucking over a spike...and I can tell you I saw more than two die that way as the spike fucked their bellies, through one's belly, out his back and into the fucker as one fucked the other. Get hard thinking about it.

I wanted to finish this fight before I thought about the rest of this story. Cum, blood, belly material, cocks drained of their cum and getting hard again met between the combatants. Which would die first, I asked myself. Unlike the Immortals we didn't bet on this. Scott glanced down at his butchered belly. The sword going down missed his navel. But now the double tip so far down, tore through his lower back. Kris pushed the handle forward so that the double pointed hand holder also hit Scott. This hand holder was not as sharp at the tip in and out out of Scott but it had tips. The points dug deep into Scott belly button, turning in and out. Kris laughed and said as much.

"Watch as I turn your innie into an outtie." He twisted on top of that. Blood pooled in the belly button. Scott gagged and gasped and ripped his sword out again. He tried to fall back but Kris kept onto him, putting a free hand around his back and holding him in place---their chests touched. For a moment, both let go of their weapons and the two fell in a groaning, kicking pile of massive muscle. Would they die slower now or faster? My own cock was alive again, spurting, as my body sweated and stunk of old dry cum and heat.

One moved and the other quivered. One quivered and the other moved. I didn't care which. I was close to them, their proximity to my cage door, made me able to see it all. I took it all in. It wasn't yet over. Soon, I would fight. And others before and after me. Brad Renfro would fight Devon Sawa. Hanson would fight Hanson. Lundreen would fight Arnold Schwarzenegger. Where would it all stop, I wondered as I tried to gather myself or rather my cum from the glops over my own naked flesh. This was no way to live. Or die...

END OF PART ONE.

Story by INNOUT


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