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It's execution day for the rebel prisoners. You're next, and the crowd is yelling your name. They already have watched twenty of your comrades take the blade through their guts. The guard tells you that the executioner has something special in store for you and the rest of the leaders. It's the grand finale. All three of you will shoot your final wads at the same time. That will be a real crowd-pleaser. Now it's time to step into the arena. The crowd is anxious. Give them a good show.

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feeling the different types of metal swimming around his guts

           

This poor guy was just trying to rest on a chair whenever he got nailed to it through his navel

       

Bare chested warrior explores belly button bayoneting.

The Pirate Island authorities chastised the Field Colonel. The accuracy and competency of the soldiers weapon firing hit a new low. The results from recent firing range activities were disturbing. The authorities ordered him to cull soldiers who couldn’t meet minimum firing standards. In the context of Pirate Island culling meant eliminating. The Field Colonel was tough enough to handle the situation but he wisely used his staff to come up with inventive scenarios.

Capt Farrell reconsidered a trench warfare scenario which had been discarded because of other activities. He chose to visit the training area and meet the bayonet trainers. Lt Brandon accompanied him. Bayonet training was infrequently scheduled compared to weapons training on the firing range. In fact only one bayonet trainer was on duty. Maybe there was only one bayonet trainer.

Staff Sgt Brenoit looked the part of a soldier primed to kill the enemy. Both Capt Farrell and Lt Brandon had immediate confidence in him. The Staff Sgt delegated a Cpl to supervise six shooters so that he could answer the Capt’s questions. He was surprised when the Capt asked about the bayonet in particular. Bayonets were mostly overlooked in discussions about weapons.

Capt Farrell knew nothing about the World War 1 reconstruction fight which featured bayonets. An ex-marine donated a box of historic weapons equiped with modified bayonets. Maybe these weapons are in storage somewhere on Pirate Island. Lt Brandon heard rumours about it; who was this ex-marine? He believed there was a waiting list to participate in this three year event. True? And if so who kept the list?

Capt Farrell had an unusual skill. He convinced rank and file soldiers to spill the beans on their deepest, fight, wishes. Staff Sgt Brenoit was no exception. He dreamt of soldiers fighting naked but wearing boots armed with bayonets only. Capt Farrell expected him to spell out the consequences. The close quarter combat would see an emphasis on wounds to belly buttons and chests. The bayonet itself could be used as a cutting weapon. On what? Lt Brandon laughed, then the three of them laughed. Lt Brandon said “Of course. The soldiers’ cocks would be erect and primed for cutting.” Capt Farrell added “The soldiers will cut off the balls at the very moment a bayonet plunges into their belly buttons. Neat.” Staff Sgt Brenoit looked embarrassed. His erect cock jutted against his camouflage trousers. Capt Farrell and Lt Brandon smiled again. “Are you up to leading a bayonet fight? You need to bear in mind that any number of naked soldiers will target your erect cock. Go on. Meet the challenge. Your erect cock is saying yes. It welcomes danger.” Capt Farrell had seen many erect cocks face danger including his own.

“Let’s get back to the soldiers on the firing range. Who is hitting the target? I mean 100%.”
“Sir, four of these soldiers are outstanding shots. The remaining two soldiers are frankly lousy shots.”
“Make a note of these and other lousy shots. You will hear from us in due course. Back to your duties.” 
Staff Sgt Benoit saluted the Capt, returned to the rifle range. He wondered which soldiers would be prepared for an intensive, bayonet, fight. The Capt was right about the erect cock. He felt it as hard as a rock and primed for action. He knew in his heart of hearts that he wanted to cut off cocks and balls.  Of course, his bayonet training conditioned him to appreciate belly button thrusts.

The reader might reasonably ask why a Major was not issuing orders to Capt Farrell. The Colonel was in a bad mood after his reprimand. He ordered MPs to put the Major in the Brig for a few days. No doubt the MPs and their inmates would work over his thick cock and big balls in the notorious Brig showers. Too bad if he couldn’t cope. His position was deliberately left vacant.  A few months ago the Major supervised a training session for probationary Lts. He neglected the entire subjects of capturing prisoners, handling, and executions. Any briefings would have to address these items.

The head of the rifle range compiled the statistics and names of soldiers who were lousy shots. There was enough for a company of approximately thirty three but that wasn’t enough for an in-depth belly button assault. Capt Farrell dismissed the scenario of a battle reconstruction. Nevertheless a waiting list of volunteers would be useful. Belly buttons attracted substantial interest in fetish groups. Volunteers would be prepared to use bayonets without mercy. Furthermore some of them would expect to cut off cocks and balls in the course of any contact.

Capt Huston, a marine officer who had worked with Capt Farrell on a previous exercise, knew who knew about the battle reconstruction group. He wondered whether the ex-marine weapons donator could be asked to observe and/or take part as a courtesy. He might prefer a contact where the modified WW1 bayonets were re-used. Retired Marine Sgt Major Ralph Davis was flattered to be remembered but was shortly leading a tour of World War 1 battlefields. He formally replied to the Commander.
“Sir. Pass on my best wishes to the soldiers taking part in the forthcoming belly button bayoneting event. I am travelling to the World War 1 battle sites where the bayonet was a valued weapon. Other veterans and I will raise a toast in their honour.”

The volunteer list was predictably out of date. Repostings, actual combat overseas, discharges. Nevertheless Big Brother has a way of tracking volunteers down. The opportunity to bayonet soldiers in the guts is too persuasive. Capt Huston was happy to organise their collection, transport to Pirate Island, tent accommodation, clothing and boots reissue if necessary. A military holiday in short except that many of them would not return.

Pirate Island authorities had fiscal and other restrictions like the rest of the military. There would be no volunteers shipped in from outside Pirate Island. In truth a gung-ho Lt Seppler was eager to fight with his company. A pulp fiction describes such fighters as “a man among men” —hairy chests, impressive cocks and big balls, eager to contact the enemy. The soldiers in his company had no qualms about killing the enemy nor reservations about fighting naked. Lt Brandon heard about Lt Seppler on the Military Cattle Cut Club grapevine. He qualified as a star recruit to the Club. It will be interesting to see whether he combines belly button bayoneting with the cock and balls cutting promoted by the Club. Maybe Lt Seppler’s military career will be a flash in the pan—a meteoritic rise to power followed by a soldier getting lucky and cutting off the Lt’s cock and balls. It has happened before.

Capt Farrell surprised the engineers when he requested they refurbish the existing trench area. Their equipment could easily move the sand which had covered over areas. Nothing had been changed. For that reason there were gibbets for hanging executions left in place. The Capt toyed with the idea of removing them but remembered that a previous Colonel had insisted on them. At this point the engineers had no information about the proposed exercise. They suspected that the trenches would feature bayonetting as in the previous reconstruction event. Capt Farrell agreed to return in three days time to the site. He would inspect the engineers and their work then. For a change they will report bare buff—with exposed chests. The Capt has few opportunities to inspect hairy or non-hairy chests of his soldiers.

Lt Kelly drew the short straw to lead the company of lousy shots. Lt Brandon briefed him on the unusual aspects of the event. As an integral part of the belly button bayonetting soldiers were encouraged to hunt down, capture and execute prisoners. When group numbers permitted the prisoners could be forced to execute each other. For instance three soldiers could target each other’s belly button. A hot scenario! 

Lt Brandon asked Lt Kelly a personal question. Was his barrack’s nickname “ball crusher”? Lt Kelly said yes he would like it to be “ball crusher”. During his officer training the other recruits quickly found out—mostly in the showers—that he enjoyed squeezing their balls.

“Close quarter combat has many variations. Your soldiers will insert bayonets into belly buttons. I say Enjoy! What about the erect cocks? The Capt wishes some procedures to be followed. Spurt where possible. Then pulp the balls. This is strictly followed by the bayonet cutting off the cock and balls. Presto. The bayonet blade is inserted in the belly button. Be warned that the target can still use his bayonet to insert his opponent’s belly button. In point of fact the Capt recommends that you pass on the message that balls can be pulped.”
Lt Kelly smiled. “I will do my duty and follow the Captain’s recommendation.”

Lt Brandon continued. “The selected soldiers will assemble in training area C for a few days of training, rest and recreation. Lt Kelly. You will be in charge and direct their activities. They will be isolated from all other units. Staff Sgt Brenoit, our resident bayonet weapons trainer, will refresh the soldiers in their handling of the weapon. You can order him to join in the real exercise.”
Lt Brandon started to walk away but needed to mention something else.
“Lt Kelly. The soldiers on your side will be identified by an “x” marking across the belly buttons. This will be applied shortly before the combat. Good luck pulping any bull-sized balls.”

Preparations progressed over the next week. Capt Farrell chose to leave the gibbets but ordered the engineers to position ready made nooses. An old fashioned noosing would be an unexpected execution. The deep trenches were in the middle of the killing zone; the areas beside were flat. One gibbet per side. There was enough room for two companies to spread out. The critical question was how they would interact.

Broadly speaking most soldiers were excited at the prospect of bayonetting belly buttons. The danger to their own belly buttons was a fact of fighting. Their cocks and balls were primed for action. They were truly macho with their exposed chests and naked bodies. The nervous soldiers took awhile to hold their bayonets correctly. For some the x across the belly button made it easy. The group motivation to thrust the bayonet into the belly button was compelling; the danger was the opponent whose bayonet was targeting the reciprocal belly button. Who cares? The chances of surviving were slim. They had to bayonet as many belly buttons as possible. For others the combat was an opportunity to cut off cocks and balls, maybe crush balls, and even hang a target.

Capt Farrell tasked Military Policemen at the last minute to provide perimeter protection and execute any would-be escapers. He insisted they wear boots but be otherwise fully exposed.

The opposing forces share mixed feelings at the moment of confrontation. Their cocks and balls tell them a hard story. Strong arms and shoulders hold the rifles with bayonets. Yes, it’s a relief not to worry about loading cartridges and firing. The blades of the bayonets are certainly razor sharp; they will easily penetrate belly buttons. The critical question is which bayonet gets to the target first. Or do both bayonets succeed together?

The soldiers wearing regulation boots churned up the sand. A few felt playful and threw sand over each other’s cocks and balls. This was a light moment before the serious start of belly button bayonetting.

The trenches cater for uncompromising belly button bayonetting. The narrowness of the gulf between sandy walls, the claustrophobia, the shouting and exaltation permit mass close quarter combat. The lousy shots had an “x” black marking on their belly buttons.

Lt Kelly delegated Staff Sgt Benoit to lead some of the lousy shots into the trenches. This would be the Staff Sgt’s most memorable experience as a soldier. His belly button bayonetting skills were spot on. The first target required the longest time for a kill. He was visually distracted by the target’s hairy chest, erect cock and big balls. His own cock responded to the dangerous situation. The first target thought that the “x” marking would make it easier. Wrong in this instance. The Staff Sgt plunged his bayonet into the target’s belly button. The target shrieked in pain, dropped his bayonet. This exposed the erect cock and balls. Too tempting. The Staff Sgt withdrew the blood drenched bayonet, cut the target’s cock shaft and grasped the balls. Another temptation. He crushed the balls. The first target buckled over and fell into the sand where he writhed in pain.

The Staff Sgt’s bayonet training classes proved invaluable. His pupils may have been lousy shots on the rifle range but they now excelled on the belly button bayonet exercise. Not all of them would survive.

Lt Kelly instructed the lousy shots to make up for it by bayonetting the belly buttons. They could follow this through with cutting off cocks and crushing balls. He made it sound too easy. Well, it was easy for some. Others felt an unwelcome bayonet striking home in their own belly buttons. Yet it was not too late to reciprocate. There were a number of striking duels where both soldiers both bayonetted each other and cut off each other’s cocks. Crushing balls was an optional extra.

What was the experience of other privates? They enjoyed the freedom of fighting naked. Their cocks responded accordingly to the danger. More than a few were trapped and unable to fight themselves out of their predicament. There’s no such thing as fairness when soldiers are fighting for their lives. Teamwork pitted the captured against two, three assailants. Capturing a target was the first step towards a good career move. 

Lt. Seppler was in his element. Today’s fighting was elemental. Naked man-to-man close quarter combat. Erect cocks. Tight balls. He was excited that his own cock jutted out from pubic hair but below his belly button.

Lt. Seppler intended to promote privates who demonstrated outstanding skills in this killing zone. He had three in mind. Pte Marco had definite leadership potential. He organised three comrades to capture an enemy Pte. The four of them proceeded to hang the bewildered Pte who was expecting a belly button thrust. Pte Parr was more inventive. Two comrades captured and pinned an enemy Pte. Pte Parr thrust the bayonet fully into the belly button; one of his comrades sliced into the cock shaft; the other comrade cut off the balls. Pte Rutter got into a dangerous, group, ploy. Ten soldiers faced each other off. Ten erect cocks, twenty bull-sized balls, ten extra sharp bayonet blades—what could go wrong? MPs encircled the ten such that there was no escape. The ten had to score a belly button. To the last man? Pte Rutter was literally the last man of this ten man group to survive with a belly button intact. For the moment. The MPs made it clear that Pte Rutter had to fight on. He tired. A bad move. A bayonet plunged into his belly button. One less promotion for Lt. Seppler to consider.

The MPs executed an escapee on the second hanging construction. The escapee was a lousy shot candidate but he had a nice set of cock and balls. Hairy chest too. A pity but military orders are orders. The MPs pulled off the cock once the noose had tightened. There was lots of sperm.

A few of the highlights:
two against one: in most instances two prevail. One grabbed the opponent’s cock and balls from behind. The erect cock spurted. One pulped the balls. Ouch! A bayonet now sliced off the cock and shattered balls. The second plunged the bayonet into the belly button.
three against one: classic gladiator manoeuvre. Mostly the target has no defence against three bayonets. However, in desperation the target can try and in some cases succeeds in belly button bayonetting an opponent.
unexpected execution: hangings, cocks spurt for the last time.
back in the trenches: the real thing. Mass belly button bayonetting.

What happened to Staff Sgt Brenoit? He bayonetted two targets before another one got lucky. At least his cock spurted before the bayonet entered his belly button.

What happened to Lt Seppler? The number of casualties surprised him. He simply didn’t expect the rag tag opponents to be so confident and capable. In another frame of mind he would admire them for their courage, determination and gung-ho attitude.
His own company fought hard. He was pleased when some of them cut off the cocks and balls as well as belly button bayonetted. The bayonet blade was unbelievably sharp.

What happened to Lt Kelly? He demonstrated crushing balls for the uninitiated. This was his peak moment but one set was not enough. His military career ended in a fitting way. A mere pte grasped his balls; he reciprocated. The anticipation to crush the balls was thrilling. They both had the same idea. Ouch! The pte followed through with his bayonet straight into the officer’s belly button. Lt Kelly cursed, sliced off the pte’s cock before he plunged his bayonet into the belly button.

The MPs had top secret orders to execute the wounded from both sides. Lt Seppler rounded up his ten survivors some of whom looked weary from the full frontal combat. None the less their cocks looked healthy. He called them to attention, showed them his erect cock and ordered them to pull each other off. The mass spurting was a sensible end to the day’s carnage.

The Field Colonel took all the credit for the success of this belly button bayonetting. No surprise! His own belly button remained untouched but not for long. Conspirators would find a way to include him in a future close quarter event. Look no further than the Major released from MP custody. The MPs gave him a taste for a manly payback.

hes ready!

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https://ok.ru/video/43398138604

This film called Detention from 2003 has a scene with a villain impaled (i would say with great satisfaction from the people doing it) right in the gut with a spear. I had seen in on TV when i was a teenager, and I could barely contain my excitement when this scene came up. (i was watching it with my family). Just wanted to share it here. 
He gets impaled at 1:08:47 min. (the dub is russian)

Fratricide

Tony was fairly young and naive. He grew up in a middle class neighborhood just outside of Detroit. He was always afraid to go into the bad neighborhoods in town. He often had nightmares of walking down a dark alley and getting shanked by a couple of thugs.

He had spent a year working hard in a factory and saving his money before finally starting college. He only had enough money for one year, so he had to find a way to finance the rest of his college.

He had met up with a frat during his first week at school. They were a bunch of alcohol-guzzling party animals. Since Tony was quite the life-of-the-party, the frat petitioned the national fraternity to extend Tony a scholarship to be able to keep going to school.

Things started out fine for Tony until initiation week. He and his fellow-inductees were subjected to all sorts of abuse (particularly sexual) during the two-week hazing period. He endured it fairly well, but totally despised the chapter leaders for allowing it.

He spent his freshman year secretly fuming about how he had been forced to have sex with his “big brother”. Not that he didn't enjoy it, he just didn't like being treated like a bitch. The worse part came later that year, when his “big brother” became the chapter president.

Tony decided to take matters into his own hands. He filed a complaint against his frat with the Dean of Students for hazing (which the college frowned upon). This created quite the stir in the frat house the chapter was closed, the leaders suspended, and Tony was forced to petition the national fraternity for a transfer to another college so he could keep his scholarship.

They offered him a spot in San Diego. He had often heard how different those Californians were. He had watched 90210. They were all a bunch of rich party-goers. Completely harmless, unlike his inner-city frat brothers in Detroit.

He went California for the warm sun and bikini babes. He had never been further than 5 miles from his hometown. He was going to enjoy laying shirtless in the sand, watching all of the eye candy walking by. It was a giant adventure for him. Time to explore new places, meet new people and try new things.

After a long and grueling bus ride across the nation, he arrived in San Diego. As he got off the bus, he noticed four guys waiting in the terminal. The national chapter of his fraternity had told him that they would have some members of his new chapter pick him up.

They were the epitome of Californians. The tallest one had long blonde hair, two had short blonde crew-cuts, and the fourth had wavy dark hair. They were all well-tanned and were wearing bermuda shorts, sandals and tight t-shirts with their frat logo on it.

One of them greeted Tony with a handshake. “Hey man, Welcome to California! The national chapter told us about what happened in Detroit. Sorry about that, dude.”

They each greeted Tony warmly, two carried his luggage as they all left the station. It was about a two-hour drive to the college. They decided that since Tony had never seen the Pacific Ocean, they would stop for a break at one of their favorite party spots.

They pulled onto a dirt drive and drove down closer to the shore. They parked behind a large rock, unloaded a couple coolers and surfboards. Then, together, they made their way down a trail to the secluded beach.

Tony stared in awe at the roaring waves. He could smell the salty air. This was nothing like the great lakes. One of his new frat brothers handed him a pair of shorts to wear. “The girls should be showing up soon, they aren't too fond of jeans.” Tony went behind some grasses and changed.

One of his frat brothers tossed him a beer. They sat there around an empty fire-ring drinking. Two of the guys pulled off their shirts, revealing finely-formed chests and abs. “We're going for a dip, wanna come?”

Tony pulled off his shirt and ran to the water with his new brothers. They spent about an hour splashing, surfing, swimming, before returning to the other two on the beach. Tony noticed the other two had been making out. While this was something he wasn't too used to, he was fine with it.

They laid out on the white sandy beach for some time. Tony could feel the sun warming his soft skin. The warm, humid breezes from the ocean caressed his body. He closed his eyes and raised his face towards the sun, feeling the heat of its rays on his face. He dozed off for about 10 minutes, when one of his frat brothers woke him up.

Tony squinted his eyes from the sun behind the surfer-boy's back. It was the one with dark wavy hair. He began rubbing his fingers across the hairs on Tony's legs. At first, Tony wasn't sure how to respond. Unlike his “big brother” back in Detroit, this guy wasn't forcing him, and besides, this guy could surely get any chick he wanted, why not make friends?

“I heard about what they did to you back in Detroit. I hope this doesn't bother you. I just wanted to get off with you.” Tony just smiled, this was fairly harmless. He leaned forward and placed his hands on the other guy's warm, smooth shoulders. Their bodies pressed together, holding, caressing.

They other guy rolled off the top of Tony and onto his back. He pulled down his shorts and started slowly masturbating. Tony laid on his side, his body pressed against his new brother and began rubbing the other guy's nipple. After a few moments, he was done.

He rolled over onto his side, facing Tony. He ran his fingers up and down Tony's arm. “Thanks, that was great. You know, it's a shame we couldn't have more time together.”

Tony looked puzzled at the other guy. The other three were standing around them, each brandishing a sword. Tony's jaw dropped. “What the f**k is this?” He squirmed back in a crab-walk.

“You betray one chapter, you betray us all.” Tony gave him a swift kick to the face and took off down the beach with the others close behind. He ran down closer to the water, as the sand was packed better there.

He tripped once, but still had enough of a lead to get back up before they could catch him. He turned to go up the beach towards some grasses when he was tackled by one of the guys. They wrestled briefly, their bodies rolling and mingling in the sand before the other three had them surrounded. Tony tried to get up, but was shoved back down onto his back.

“Just let me go,” Tony's words were cut off with a “Huuughh.” as one of the guy rammed his sword down, nailing Tony in his soft gut. Tony's eyes widened from the shock, but the bright sun quickly squinted them close. He could feel his gut rise and fall, sliding along the blade with each breath. He raised his head briefly to see the sword buried deep in his navel. His strong, hair legs kicked and squirmed as blood oozed out from around the sides of the blade.

His frat brothers watched him squirm for several minutes, before a second blade was rammed into his chest. His legs kicked out, his arms flexed up grabbing the blade. Every muscle in Tony's body flexed to their fullest as he spewed out a gut-full of blood. His head hit the sand with a thud. His arms flopped down to his side. His hairy leg slowly tipped to the side, pulling the crotch of his shorts tight, creating his manly bulge moistened by his final orgasm.


He never betrayed his frat again...........

        Andre had entered into the last level of the maze.  In each level, he had used his clever tactics and physical skills to out-whit and defeat his enemy.  This level seemed easy by comparison.  

        There was an open arena.  The crowd was seated in anxious anticipation and his golden trophy sitting on a stool.  He walked out to the trophy, eyed around the room for a potential opponent.

        Was it really this easy?  Did he finally win the maze.  He went to his trophy and cheers rang out from the crowds.  Andre smiled and waved as his fans were waving back.  Sure, it was odd as he had never had fans celebrating with him, but then again, he knew this was being broadcast live to the world.

        He raised both hands up in victory.  The crowd continued its enthusiasm.  He picked up his trophy, lifting it over his head.  This set off the trap.

        A sword was shot out of a hole across the room and darted straight into Andre's hardened gut, nailing him with a heavy thud.  He dropped the trophy and the crowd went wild as cameramen swarmed into the room to capture his demise from every angle.

        Anger filled the young man's heart as he knew he had been finally lost the competition.  He wanted to pull out the blade and strike back, but was overcome with weakness.