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  Swimmers
Posted by: TheSilverGhost - 05-29-2023, 03:56 PM - Forum: Killer Stories - No Replies

It was a quiet Monday night as Jerry and Peter went to their local High School.  Jerry was a tall slender muscular young man with light sandy hair, dark blue eyes and a slow even smile.  Peter was the same height and not so athletic, but slim as well, with short curly brown hair, bright blue eyes covered by horn rimmed glasses, and a quick smile and always ready to laugh.  Both had graduated a year earlier and the nineteen year old twins had went into a door they knew where the lock was broken.  They went down the dark corridors to the pool.  Minutes later they came out of the dressing room on to the deck of the pool and Jerry turned on the lights above and in the pool.
"You know we're going to get caught doing this one of these days." said Peter.
Peter looked down at the green speedos that his brother had supplied him, then at Jerry's blue speedos.
"I don't particularly care for these shorts either." said Peter.
"Oh quit complaining.  They cut down on the resistance in the water, and you little brother need to learn how to swim." said Jerry.
Jerry dove into the water and came back to the surface wiping the water from his eyes.  Peter took off his glasses and lay them on deck.  He sat down on the deck and slid down into the water than was only up to his broad chest.  He took a deep breath and slid down under the water.  He quickly popped back up and shook his head.
"Nope, sorry, but this is just not for me.  You do your thing, and I'll do mine." said Peter as he waded to the ladder.
Jerry smiled and shook his head as Peter began to climb up the ladder.  Jerry ducked under the surface and began swimming across the pool underwater as Peter pulled himself up the ladder not knowing the someone was watching and admiring the way the water glistened on his long lean body.  Peter wipded his hair back and picked up his glasses.  He had just put his glasses on his face when heard a loud solid thump.  Peter looked back at the pool where the sound had come from.  Peter's baby blue eyes widened and his mouth fell open when he saw Jerry bob up to the surface facing the ceiling.  The reason for Peter's dismay was a diving spear stuck about an inch above Jerry's outie navel.  Peter watched in stunned silence as a man in scuba gear stood up out of the water.  The diver pulled a spear gun up out of the water and pointed it at Peter.  Peter took a step back and found nothing but wall behind him.
"No!  Don't!  Please not in the belly!  Not in the bell..." pleaded Peter as the diver took aim.
Shh-thump.
"...LLllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeee!" finished Peter with a scream as he bent over with a spear in the middle of his flat belly.
Peter shook his head as he stumbled forward bent over a little.  He looked up at where his brother floated motionless.
"Ohhhh!" moaned Peter as he tumbled headfirst into the pool.
His momentum carried him forward and when he came up the surface the two brothers floated side by side belly up in the water.  The diver took several pictures of them floating from different angles, then climbed out of the pool.  He went to the door and opened it allowing several men to come in.  The pulled Jerry and Peter's limp bodies out of the pool and pulled the spears out of their bellies, revealing that all had penetrated was nothing more than a needle.  One of the men lay his hand on Peter's belly over his deep quarter sized navel.
"I can feel his ventral artery pumping.  They're still alive." he said.
"I know.  The drug just paralyzes them.  Don't worry they'll get it soon enough." said the diver.
The twins speedos were removed and tossed into the pool, then they were loaded into a waiting van.  Nearly an hour later Jerry and Peter were taken into a warehouse and into a room that looked like a lab.  Both still had their eyes open and could see and hear what was going on around them, but because of the drug they couldn't move.  They also found that much to their dismay they could still feel everything, every hand that picked them up and the occasional carress that they weren't expecting.  The two were stood up in frames that held them straight up as if they were in attention in the military.  They sprayed something on to them from their feet up to their knees, which they couldn't see but felt cold until it hardened like metal and they couldn't feel their skin below their knees.
"Now we get to the fun part." said the man who had shot them, he had long since removed the scuba suit and now wore a white lab coat.
He picked two cattle prods and walked up to Peter.  He handed one of them to an assistant, who stuck the end at the small of Peter's back.  In his mind Peter screamed and tried to move, but all that happened was his muscles tightened.  The man in the lab coat put the end of his prod in the slight dip at Peter's waist below his navel.  Again Peter tried to scream, but the only real reaction was that his dick stiffened and pointed straight out.
"Works every time." said the kidnapper.
They quickly sprayed Peter's hard dick and balls, then covered his thighs and butt.
"I would really like to have had a turn at that before we covered him, but it does look even hotter now that it's golden." said the assistant.
Peter's mind raced as he realized what they were doing while they sprayed over his back, belly and chest.  They were coating him with a fast drying, bonding, hardening gold compound.  Turning him into a gold statue.  They covered his arms  and then moved up to his neck.  The man in the coat pulled off Peter's glasses and removed the lenses, then sprayed the frames with the gold spray.
"Too bad we couldn't leave his head intact.  He's got some dynamite eyes, and I would love to kiss those lips." said the assistant.
The man in the lab coat looked annoyed at his assistant.
"Now here's were they get it.  Right now his chest and belly are both constricted so he's having a hard time breathing.  When we cover his face it's only a matter of minutes before he suffocates." said the man in the lab coat.
"Then we do his brother the same way?" asked the assistant.
"Exactly." said the man in the lab coat.
Peter screamed in his mind again as the gold spray began to cover his face, then it covered his still open eyes, so he could not see anything.  He found out quickly that the gold had sealed his mouth shut and plugged his nose as well.  Peter could do nothing but stand there and die.

Friday evening of the same week the man who had been in a lab coat, now wearing a suit led another man in a white western suit and cowboy had down a hall in a multi room mansion in Texas.  At the end of the corridor stood Jerry and Peter glistening in gold and all their naked glory.  They stood facing each other with only the tips of their stiff penises touching each other.  The cowboy ran up to them with a shout of delight.
"You filled the order perfectly.  A jock and a nerd.  You tell me these two were twin brothers?" said the cowboy as he ran his finger across the top of their dicks from Jerry's belly to Peter's belly.
"They were." said the killer.
The cowboy smiled as he ran his hands up and down their bellies.
"Oh they will go just perfectly in my collection.  I can show them off in the library and no one will ever know the difference." said the cowboy.
He stood up and kissed Jerry's golden lips, then Peter's.
"They are so much easier to deal with than the tramps you pull of the street." said the cowboy.
"When you get bored with them I will be happy to find more acquisitions for the collection." said the killer as he walked back down the corridor.

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  another question
Posted by: TheSilverGhost - 05-27-2023, 03:35 PM - Forum: The Meeting Place - Replies (3)

You have just fought a long hard battle with another warrior.  At the end you were able to disarm him, now what do you do?

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  question for a story
Posted by: TheSilverGhost - 05-27-2023, 11:17 AM - Forum: The Meeting Place - Replies (3)

Here's the premise behind the story.  You are in the woods hunting with a quiver full of arrows and a bow.  You come up to the top of a hill and the at the bottom is a secluded little spring fed pond.  Before you can make it down the hill a guy walks up, and he's just your type.  Much to your amazement he pulls off his clothes and jumps in the pond for a little afternoon skinny dipping.  You know there is no one else around so you draw an arrow and get ready to shoot.  Where does the first arrow go?

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  A short from the Battle of Telmara
Posted by: KnitNot - 05-15-2023, 06:03 PM - Forum: Stories - Replies (2)

Shortly after a horn blows and the sound of combat can be heard atop the cliff. We ram our axes in the cliffside and start our acent and wihtin moments arrows start raining down on us. One of the heavier recruits got shot with an arrow in his shoulder and lost his footing and fell to his death. Other members of my party get instantly killed by an arrow to the head. I look upwards and see two scantly dressed archers nocking the next volley of arrows. They let loose and I hear the screams of members of my squad fall to their doom. I press on, dodging an arrow by a hair. We arrive to the peak and I grab one of the archers by the foot and tug. She falls on her back and I climb uptop of her and hurl my axes at the other's chest straight at the heart instantly killing her and splitting open her leather chest piece and revealing her lucious breasts and pink nipples. I turn to the victim underneath me and wrap my hands around her throat and throttle her. As she struggled, she kicked and punched attempting to push me off her. Her fair face turned red and her freckles became more apparent as she struggled for air. Her legs stretched outwards and her eyes grew more frantic till her neck snapped and she lies still underneath me. Her eyes permanently staring emptily into the void. I reach for her jewel adorned navel and pluck the jewel placed within her enlarged navel. My men rendezvous with me after I pick up the other archer's jewel.

Fighting at the gate halts as more Valkery are ordered to protect their exposed rear and push us back. Their diminished forces at the gates create an opening allowing Bolas, Selius and their team to breach the gate and enter Telmara. My men start engaging the enemy and cutting them down where I can see one man bash another leather clad valkery with his shield, knocking her down and dragging her by hear feat backwards towards his companions for them to undress her. We push inwards as more and more women engage us and slowing our advance, their longshields and spears allow for better protection and their spearheads quickly enter our exposed vulnrable bellies. Two at either side of me get steel thrusted into their midriff, and start falling on their backs. "Aaaarrggh!!! Right in my navel hole!!" screams the younger of two as his waist band is lifted upwards when he fell. His manhood stands tall and faces his killer like the spear pinned downwards in his navel. The older one is the fatter of the two and was stabbed in his underbelly, he lays on his back silent and stoic, pushing out his belly and arching his back presenting hix executrix another chance at penetrating his navel too. Sadly he gets pierced in the heart and dies instantly never getting a chance to empty his balls. The warrior women push us backwards enveloping the dying young man. I spot an ebony valkery remove her waist cloth and reveal her jewel and her smooth and wet pussy she says "This one will provide!". She grinds at the spear shaft before gently lowering herself on the dying man. Within seconds his engorged member is swallowed by her waiting pussy. He grasps the spear in his navel and thrusts his cock upwards stabbing it firmly into her pussy. His moans grow louder as she stradles him and letting his seed flow freely into her. An earshot away Selius can be seen wielding his axe and planting it firmly into a valkeries belly vertically pushing her jewel even deeper into her navel. He rips the jewel from her bleeding belly and slashes into another. I use my axe and hack at their spears and smash the hilt of my axe into a valkeries head knocking her out. "Watch out!" says one of comrades who gets in the way of spear ment for me. He gets impaled in the heart and dies imediatly. I grab the end of the spear in his chest and pull his killer up close, disarming her. Quickly I wrap my right hand around her neck and pull her onto me and bend her slightly in a way so that the tip of my rock hard cock is aimed directly at her smooth virgin pussy. "Do not defile me!" screams the shaking Amzy warrior. The young girl must have been barely eighteen and had little to no training. I dislodge her blue jewel and graze her navel with my dagger. I say "Enjoy being penetrated by both, you witch!" and then thurst both my cock and dagger simultaniously. Her moans ring like a beautiful melody with every thurst of cock and blade before begging and saying "Do it f-aster m-ake me c-umm!". One que I twist my blade leave the handle sticking out of her destroyed navel and push my cock deeper into her squirting pussy. "I'm cu-mming! I'm -cumm-ing! Aaaa-aarr-ggg!!!!" says the redhead Amzy valkery and both of us cum together before letting her lifeless corpse droop to the floor like a used rag.

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  POLL for combat lusters: Video game concept
Posted by: timgotshot - 05-14-2023, 04:50 AM - Forum: The Meeting Place - No Replies

This is pitched to members into large-scale battles. I will eventually pay developers to have a game made, or a mod to an existing game.

The big problem is you can't have it all. The core concept of the game has to be focused, for the budget to be realistic. Here are the possibilities I'm interested in. Please vote on your favorite above?

More about the options:
First-person combat--e.g. Call of Duty. +Most personal. +You are behind the eyes of your guy's kills and, if you play badly, deaths. +Great existing games may be moddable. -Anything that doesn't happen in your visual field, you don't get to experience. -Great graphics are costly.

Large war RT strategy--e.g. Total War. +Guys throw away their lives cheap on your orders. +Hundreds or thousands may go down, still in the formations you put them in. -You're far from the action when commanding, must zoom in and pause/replay a lot to see any detail. -All the action means it's programmed without much specificity. There may be 15 or 30 unique trooper death animations, plus a few or special scenarios or unlocks based on the accomplishments or tactics, but eventually you have to start reusing because the game is rendering the map, not the visual area.

Small field squad--meant to be a hybrid of FPS and RTS. +s and -s of both may clash or cancel out. But great for multiplayer. Also great that you get to know the backstories of each guy you're probably gonna die piled with.

Open word--e.g. Fortnite. Expensive and I'm unlikely to be able to go in this direction, except maybe by modding Fortnite. Also few opportunities relevant to our kink. EXCEPT it might be fun to design custom fields/obstacles for men to fall on, plus traps. And the open world means far greater flexibility in making exactly how you want it to be.

80s-esque--e.g. Goldeneye, Outlaws. +Cool style; sometimes keeping the gameplay and graphics simple really help the theme pop. I'll bet no one has made a bit game featuring an emphasis on kinky male death, but I do remember a sexy lil animation called Bullet-Man. +Usually cost effective to make from scratch. -Obvi more gamey and less realistic. -Much more scripted cutscenes, less you control what happens based on what you do.

Arcade/simplified--e.g. Duck Hunt with muscular paratroopers in jockstraps that pile at the bottom of your screen when you kill them, or a shooting gallery side scroller (an absurdly stylized western or dystopian killing game). +Easiest to make by far +Simplicity gives focus, and probably could take ideas and program 2-4 unique mini games. -Little control for the player. No wide variety of things that might happen.

No matter which of these I go with, there will be a few obvious features the game has (which some popular shooters/battle-themed games lack, unfortunately) just for us: zoom in, slow down, replay kills, hopefully even body cutaways/damage detail, and above all the option to linger a long time, control camera over, and interact with wounded and dead studs. Big emphasis on ragdoll physics, naturally Wink 

Most of the heart of it is going to be customization, so the game can thrill the kinky player no matter the specific things that turn them on or off. 
Definitely included customizations: 
- Appearances of characters to get killed--definitely clothing/lack of it, hopefully body shape and features. 
- Corpse teasing or sex: options or game objectives--You can turn it off completely if you want, but there can be settings like guys cum when they die, or if you hit the right target directly, or you score points by touching or using corpses or shooting them again or whatever you like

Hopefully included customizations:
- Weapon types and eras (probably a big budget increase so I'm likely to go with my main lust--modern warfare and guns
- More detailed views and controls for those who prefer intimate 1 on 1 combat, unlike me who wants my guys to die in rows and piles 
- Death achievements, epic deaths, body pile formations, etc

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  Bellybutton punctured while sleeping
Posted by: frisprit - 05-13-2023, 04:29 PM - Forum: The Meeting Place - Replies (6)

Hey guys, I've been wondering, if a person is deep asleep and his bellybutton is punctured say using a screwdriver, will he be able to experience the pain immediately upon the penetration of his navel base or will there be a time lag or he won't feel a thing?

Anyone had a real experience before and can share?

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  ATTICUS - All Three Together, One Last Time
Posted by: gladiatoratticus - 05-12-2023, 08:08 PM - Forum: Photos by Atticus - Replies (7)

The trio fought together, were captured together and shot their final wads together. On the beach, the victors were amused. At the arena the crowd cheered.



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  Getting off...
Posted by: eroticus - 05-12-2023, 07:22 PM - Forum: Pictures - Replies (7)

   

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  BestDeath Website invalid?!
Posted by: condorhero25 - 05-11-2023, 02:48 AM - Forum: Videos - Replies (1)

Looks liked www.bestdeaths.com is gone

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  A True Warrior
Posted by: lanteran - 05-05-2023, 06:06 PM - Forum: Stories - Replies (2)

ONE

Pvt. John Kim was a young and fit soldier, ready for any challenge that came his way. At 23 years old, he was one of the youngest members of his unit, but his experience and training made him a valuable asset.

With a height of 5'10", John's lean and muscular build made him a standout among his peers. His broad shoulders and well-defined biceps were a testament to his rigorous training and unwavering discipline. Despite his Herculean physique, he was agile and flexible, with movements that were swift and precise.

His short, dark hair was always neatly trimmed, accentuating his sharp, defined features. He always made sure to keep his beard neatly trimmed, a small sign of the discipline that permeated every aspect of his life. His deep-set brown eyes were piercing and focused, showing the determination that had driven him to become a skilled and formidable soldier.

As John wiped the sweat from his brow, he looked around at the sturdy barricade that he and his fellow soldiers had just finished building. They had worked tirelessly in the sweltering heat of the oppressive jungle summer, discarding their shirts hours ago in search of relief. John's chest and armpit hair were matted with sweat, making it hard for him to catch his breath in the stifling humidity. The heat was almost unbearable, and he could feel his skin burning under the scorching sun.

Just as he was about to head to his tent for a much-needed rest, his buddy Mike approached him, a mischievous grin on his face. Mike, with his thick arms and barrel chest, was a force to be reckoned with. His bushy beard and thick Boston accent added to his intimidating presence.

"Hey John, I bet I could take you down in a wrestling match," Mike said, flexing his muscular arms.

Despite his exhaustion, John couldn't resist a challenge. "You're on, buddy," he replied, grinning as he locked eyes with Mike. He was all too glad to agree, eager to use his strength even after hours of back-breaking work.

The other soldiers gathered around, hollering and whooping as the two men locked arms. Mike's muscles bulged as he heaved against John's grip, determination etched on his face.

"Come on, Mike! Show him what you've got!" one of the soldiers shouted.

John gritted his teeth, feeling the sweat start to bead on his forehead. He was struggling to keep Mike at bay, the other man's strength almost too much to handle.

But then, with a sudden burst of energy, Mike surged forward, flipping John onto his back with a resounding thud. The crowd erupted into cheers as Mike stood up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Better luck next time, mate!" he said, helping John to his feet.

After the wrestling match, John and Mike sat down together, both shirtless and sweaty. They shared a canteen of water, each taking long swigs to quench their thirst.

"You're looking good, man," Mike said, nodding appreciatively at John's lean, muscular physique. "All that training's really paying off."

John grinned, feeling a surge of pride. "Thanks, Mike. You're not looking too shabby yourself."

Mike flexed his biceps, grinning. "Yeah, I've been hitting the weights pretty hard. Gotta keep up with you, right?"

John laughed. "No way, man. You're a beast."

They both laughed, feeling the camaraderie and brotherhood that came from serving together in the military. They knew they could count on each other, both in the training grounds and on the battlefield.

As the sun began to set, the soldiers retired to their tents, exhausted from the heat and the day's training.

"You did well out there today, John," one of the soldiers said, clapping John on the back. "Thanks," John replied, feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest.

John missed his family back home, but he knew he had a duty to his country. As he lay down on his cot, staring up at the canvas ceiling, he thought about the sacrifices he had made to be here. The training, the discipline, the endless drills and exercises. But he also thought about the camaraderie he had found with his fellow soldiers, the sense of purpose he felt in serving his country.


TWO

John lay in his cot, eyes closed, trying to catch a few hours of sleep. The hot and humid night had forced him to strip down to his standard issue boxer shorts. But he was always prepared for any situation. That's why he had his combat knife strapped to his leg, ready for use at a moment's notice. Suddenly, a loud explosion jolted him awake, shaking the entire camp.

He jumped out of bed, grabbed his rifle, and ran outside to see what was happening. Mike was right behind him, also in his underwear. They could see smoke rising in the distance and hear gunfire coming from the east.

"What the hell is going on?" Mike yelled.

"I don't know, but we need to get out there now," John replied.

They rushed towards the sound of the commotion. They could hear the other soldiers already gathering at the barricade, ready to defend their camp against the unknown threat.

John and Mike reached the barricade and quickly took cover. The sound of explosions and gunfire was deafening. John's heart raced as he peered over the sandbags and saw the enemy advancing towards them. He aimed his weapon and fired, trying to take down as many as he could.

"Watch your left, John!" Mike yelled, firing his own weapon.

John turned and saw an enemy soldier running towards him with a grenade in hand. He quickly fired but missed. The soldier was getting closer and closer, and John knew he had to act fast. Without hesitation, he grabbed Mike’s grenade and threw it at the soldier, just as the enemy soldier threw his. The two grenades collided in mid-air and exploded, sending shrapnel flying in all directions.

John felt a sharp pain in his arm and fell back, but he gritted his teeth and pushed himself back up, determined to keep fighting. Mike was beside him, also firing his weapon relentlessly at the advancing enemy. The enemy seemed to be retreating, but it wasn't long before John noticed more troops on the way.

"We have to hold our ground," John shouted over the deafening sound of gunfire. "The enemy is coming back with more troops."

As he spoke, John couldn't help but notice the bloody gash across Mike's bare chest.

"Mike, you're hurt!" John shouted.

"It's nothing," Mike replied through gritted teeth. "I can still fight." Despite the odds, Mike seemed determined to keep fighting, his muscles tense and ready for action.

John could see the enemy getting closer and closer. He could see their faces, twisted in hatred and anger. But he refused to back down. He would fight until his last breath, if it meant protecting his country and his comrades.

As they fired their weapons, John and Mike noticed the soldiers around them dropping to the ground, some screaming in agony, others silently motionless. The sight of their shirtless comrades lying lifeless on the ground was gut-wrenching, and a feeling of hopelessness washed over the them.

Their bare chests were splattered with blood and sweat; their bodies contorted in pain. Some of them had discarded their helmets in a desperate attempt to cool down in the suffocating heat. Now those helmets lay scattered around them, some dented and cracked from the impact of bullets and shrapnel.

John saw a soldier he had worked with at the barricades earlier in the day fall to the ground, clutching his chest. "Medic!" he screamed, but he knew it was too late. The soldier's lifeless body lay still, a bullet wound in his chest. Mike grabbed John's shoulder, pulling him back behind cover. "We can't save him now," he said, his voice strained with emotion.

The two of them continued to fire at the enemy, their fingers growing numb from the recoil. They were both exhausted and wounded, but they couldn't afford to stop. The fate of their entire unit rested on their shoulders.

"John, we can't hold them off forever," Mike shouted over the noise. "We need backup!"

"I know, but they're not coming," John yelled back. "We're on our own!"

Suddenly, Mike was hit by a bullet and fell to the ground, his body convulsing in pain. John rushed over to him, his heart pounding in his chest. "Mike, are you okay?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Mike gritted his teeth. "I don't think so," he said, his voice strained. "It's bad, John. Real bad."

John frantically searched for a first aid kit, but it was nowhere to be found. "Hang on, Mike," he said, trying to keep his friend calm. "We'll get you some help."

But Mike knew it was too late. He could feel his life slipping away from him. "John, listen to me," he said, his voice weak. "I don't think I'm gonna make it. I need you to do something for me."

John felt a lump form in his throat. "Anything, Mike," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I need you to promise me something," Mike said, his voice firm despite the pain he was feeling. "You gotta make it out of here, John. And when you do, you gotta tell our story. Let the world know what we did here."

John's eyes were moist, but he didn't let the tears fall. "I'll do it, Mike. I'll make sure everyone knows about your bravery and sacrifice. And I'll make it back home, no matter what."

Mike nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. "Good man. You're gonna do great things, John. I know it."

As Mike's breathing grew more labored, John felt a sense of dread wash over him. He knew that this was it – his friend was slipping away. And with that realization came another: he was one of the few left alive in his unit. The others had all been taken out by the enemy.

John knew he had to get out of there. His heart was pounding in his chest as he ran towards the jungle, hoping to find cover and avoid the enemy. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he knew that the enemy was close behind.

As he caught his breath and tried to assess his situation, he checked his rifle and found that he had run out of bullets. His heart sank for a moment, but then he remembered the combat knife he had strapped to his leg. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

As he slowly trudged through thick foliage, he could hear someone following him. He turned around and saw an enemy soldier, who had seen him leave the camp. The soldier was tall and muscular, with a menacing look in his eyes. He raised his rifle and pointed it at John, ready to shoot.

They stood there, facing each other. John knew that this was it. He was alone, and he had no choice but to fight for his life.

THREE

John stood face-to-face with his enemy. The soldier was a towering figure, standing well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a chest that looked like it was carved from marble. Every muscle on his body was defined and bulging, as if he had been chiseled from stone. His piercing black eyes were set deep in his weather-beaten face, with a prominent nose and a thick, bushy beard that covered most of his chin and neck. The man's skin was tanned and wrinkled; evidence of a life spent under the unforgiving sun.

As the two men circled each other warily, John couldn't help but notice the scars that crisscrossed the enemy's chest, arms, and face. They were like roadmaps of his violent past, each one telling a different story. Despite his fearsome appearance, John could sense a weariness in the man's eyes, as if he had grown tired of fighting and killing.

John's hand instinctively reached for his knife, which was still securely strapped to his leg. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he grasped the handle and tried to steady his nerves. He knew that any wrong move could mean certain death, and he was determined to make it out of this fight alive.

"Is this what you want?" John asked, his voice deep and serious.

The enemy soldier's gun clicked, and he realized he had run out of bullets. He gritted his teeth and lunged forward, his bayonet glinting in the moonlight. John quickly stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly blade. The rifle clattered to the ground, leaving the two soldiers grappling with their bare hands. The fight had become personal, and John was determined to come out on top.

The two men engaged in a fierce struggle, grappling with each other as they tried to gain the upper hand. John's heart raced as he tried to overpower his enemy, his mind focused on survival. The enemy soldier was strong, but John was determined to come out on top. Sweat poured down John's face and back, and the matted hair on his armpits and chest was dampened by the exertion.

"You'll never take me down!" John roared, as he fought against the enemy soldier's grip.

The enemy soldier remained silent, his eyes burning with hatred. He tightened his grip, squeezing the air out of John's lungs. John felt a surge of panic as he struggled to breathe.

As John and the enemy soldier grappled, their movements became increasingly frenzied. Suddenly, John spotted an opening. He released his grip and reached for his combat knife, swinging it with all his might at the enemy's head. The sharp blade narrowly missed the soldier's neck, grazing his cheek instead. The soldier stumbled back, dazed by the close call.

John didn't hesitate. He seized the opportunity and lunged forward, plunging his knife repeatedly into the soldier's navel. The enemy let out a bloodcurdling scream as John's blade pierced his flesh again and again. With one final gasp, the soldier collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

John stood over him, his bare torso glistening with sweat, combat knife still dripping with the enemy's blood. He felt a mix of emotions - relief, triumph, and a tinge of sadness. He knew he had just taken another man's life, but it was either him or the enemy soldier. In the heat of the moment, he had chosen to fight for his own survival.

As John caught his breath, he could feel his heart racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins. But he knew he couldn't stay in one place for too long. The enemy was sure to come looking for him, and he had to keep moving if he wanted to stay alive.

Just as he started to stand up, he heard footsteps approaching from all sides. John's heart sank as he realized he was surrounded. He quickly scanned his surroundings, looking for an escape route, but the enemy had already cut off all exits.

John knew he had no choice but to fight again. He drew his combat knife, bracing himself for the impending attack. The enemy soldiers advanced towards him, their weapons at the ready. John lunged forward, his knife flashing in the moonlight as he fought with all his strength.

Despite his best efforts, John was quickly overwhelmed. The enemy soldiers had surrounded him, and they opened fire. Bullets tore through John's body, ripping through his chest and stomach. He fell to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds.

He tried to prop himself up with his hands, but they were already growing weak. He knew that he was going to die soon, but he refused to let the enemy defeat him without a fight.

"You think you've won?" John spat, his voice choked with blood. "I may die today, but my spirit will live on. My sacrifice will not be in vain. My comrades will avenge me, mark my words."

The enemy soldiers laughed, thinking that John's defiance was futile. But John refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing him broken. He gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up, but the pain was too much. His muscled body was giving out, and he knew that his time was running out.

With a final burst of strength, John raised his head and looked his enemies in the eye. "You may have taken my life, but you will never take my pride," he said, his voice filled with conviction.

As his vision began to fade, John thought of his family back home. He knew that he would never see them again. But he was proud of the sacrifice he had made for his country.

Hours later, the sound of helicopters filled the air as a group of reinforcements arrived at the ruins of the camp. The thudding of the rotors grew louder as they descended towards the clearing. As they landed, the soldiers quickly disembarked, spreading out to survey the area. The smell of gunpowder and death hung heavy in the air.

As the soldiers made their way through the trees, they stumbled upon a gruesome sight: John's shirtless body lay next to the corpse of the enemy soldier he had slain. Despite the stark contrast in size, with John appearing smaller next to the lifeless enemy, there was no question that he was a formidable fighter.

John's muscular frame was still evident, despite the numerous bullet holes that covered his chest and stomach. His chest hair was matted with sweat and blood, and his beard was stained red. The once proud warrior lay motionless, his eyes staring unblinkingly up at the sky as if watching over them.

One of the soldiers knelt beside him, checking for any signs of life. But it was clear that John was beyond saving. The wounds were too severe, and there was nothing they could do to bring him back.

As the soldiers gathered around John's lifeless body, they felt a mix of emotions – sadness, anger, and a deep respect for the fallen soldier. They knew that John had fought bravely until the very end, and that he had given his life in defense of his country.

One of the soldiers knelt beside John's body and marveled at his strength.

"This man was a true warrior," he said.

They carefully lifted his body onto a stretcher and carried him to the waiting helicopter.

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