(1) Rage Of The Master | Full Martial Arts Movie - YouTube

Which picture do you like best?

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What do you like best?

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his abs are ready. What would you do with him?

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A warm summer evening, I stopped by McDonalds before they close. I treat myself to three large menus, ice cream for dessert, cakes and three large milkshakes. After that I am so full of myself as I haven't been for a long time. My fat belly bulges like a huge ball under my shirt. Groaning with relish, I rub my belly, which is so plump that it hurts. Then I heave myself up and walk heavily to my car. Suddenly a man walks towards me in the dark, deserted parking lot. A black balaclava covers his face, and a screwdriver flashes in his hand, which he points menacingly at me. "Not a peep," he hisses, "pull up your shirt, I want to see your gut!"

Distraught, I bare my plump, heavy belly, a sight that evidently excites the man very much. "Oh yes," he moans, "such a hot fat belly!" He steps closer, the screwdriver still pointed at me like a gun, and begins to rub my bare paunch with his free hand. His hand is rough and demanding, I moan because the hard pressure on my bulging gut hurts. But I also feel that this painful procedure excites me. He now pushes his thumb into my deep navel and starts fingering it hard. Like a ram it hits my sensitive intestines again and again. I can feel the pain spreading all over my belly. My moans get louder, mingling with the man's excited gasp. I close my eyes, stick my stomach out, which makes the hard fingering even more intense. Suddenly I feel something cold in my navel. I look down at myself and realize that the man has pushed the screwdriver into my navel, which is now sliding deeper and is already bumping into the bottom of my navel. I look at my counterpart in panic and shake my head. "No, please!" But the man nods and I'm sure he's smiling under his mask. “Yes!” The pressure on my navel base increases. "Not in the belly," I burst out, as the screwdriver  breaks through my navel and inexorably with a SHLRP, bores through fat and muscle into the intestines. A sharp pain pervades my belly. I exhale with a tortured sound, hold my gut and feel the screwdriver handle touch my body. The full length of the blade is in my fat paunch!

The man steps back and watches what this injury does to me. It's a crazy pain raging through my gut. The blade clearly perforated my intestines, causing terrible cramps. I press both hands on my fat, plump belly and push it far out with a deep moan. "Aaaaahhhh, my belly! Oooooohhhh! Urgghhh! ” Panting, I wriggle and squirm. The man comes back to me and starts rubbing my fat, aching paunch again. Blood gushes out of the navel hole in spurts. The searing pain is overwhelming. Groaning, I press my gut into his roughly walking hands. His pressure on my sore bowels increases, his gasps grow louder. The cruel pain torments and excites me at the same time. Suddenly the man grabs the screwdriver handle, turns it around in my navel and pulls it out with one quick movement. I can clearly feel my gut tearing apart. With a suppressed cry, I stagger back, pressing both hands firmly on my navel. I stare at my tormentor with a groan. "Why ???" I press out. “A hot, fat belly like yours has to bleed!” is the answer. Then the man disappears into the dark.

I stumble back to the McDonalds, half senseless from the pain. I feel the intestines coming out of the wound, blood oozing out between my fingers. With the last of my strength I drag myself through the automatic door, stagger to the counter, where I fall on my knees. Some customers cry out in shock. "Fuck, his belly!" I hear someone say. Then everything goes very quickly. People come to my aid, lean me against the counter. Someone calls 911 while others try to stop the bleeding with napkins. "He got it right in his gut." "Man, straight into his belly button." The pain has become unbearable. Groaning, I squirm, repeatedly squeezing my belly out when a cramp digs particularly badly in my intestines. "Wow, look at how his big belly trembles." The pain takes my breath away, I stare in pain at my heaving gut. I rub my sore belly, feel how rock-hard the bulging gut feels under my hands. Suddenly an ambulance is there. The paramedic looks at the wound, feels my gut, which makes me groan in agony. "Can you tell me what happened?" I hear his voice from afar. "Screwdriver," I moan. "Did you get stabbed in the stomach with it?" I nod weakly. Then the world around me sinks into darkness and torrential pain.

When I come back, I'm in the intensive care unit. A long abdominal incision runs from the sternum to the pubic bone. The belly feels swollen and dull. I carefully feel the sore gut and feel a strange mixture of relief and excitement before consciousness fades again. I don't know how long I've been out, but my consciousness returns when I feel sustained pressure on my belly. A man in a sterile smock is standing next to my bed, his gloved right hand rests heavily on my navel, his face is half hidden behind a surgical mask. But one look into his eyes is enough to see who is standing in front of me. It's the man who stabbed me in the gut! I gasp in panic, but he caresses my sore belly soothingly and leans over to me. "No fear! We'll let your hot fat belly heal first. It will be a painful time, it has torn your guts apart. But when you get back on your feet, I'll come back and let your fat belly bleed again. Look forward to it, I know you want it too! ”And with that he leaves me. I feel scared, but I also know - he's right!

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