Date: Tue, 03 Jun 2008 18:42:38 -0400
From: J
Subject: TRIO  34: the Return of Simon

Trio has died so now...

THE RETURN OF SIMON--although he never left!



In the arena, the slaying went on. Men killed men. Boys killed boys. Men
killed boys and boys killed men. It was all the same to those who ran the
arena. Stomachs, hard, smooth, soft, hilly, rolly, tight, concaved,
muscled, tender, washboard...were all cut into. Sweat covered bodies took
steel into themselves, steel forced in by another just as they were: male
warriors, gladiators, fighters...belly buttons were the main target. If
not, the ones who missed had their buttons pierced in a variety of
ways. Some of those who didn't expect to win, did. Those who were cocky or
proud, too confident, even just a little too sure of themselves, usually
got stuck in their guts one way or another. Yet there were even among the
proud numbers, those who won by getting their goods into the belly button
guts of their opponents. Nothing was ever sure in this arena...or any other
for that matter.

Soft unsuspected unprotected bellies getting holed into with hard steel,
inflexible steel .

The weapons were plain mostly. There were a few exotic ones. Double pointed
swords, four pointed spears, tridents with points on both sides of the
shaft...but for the most part it was spears, swords, knives, and tridents.

Many occasions called for both opponents dying. Usually it was one on
one. Odd bouts included teams who after killing the other team, had to kill
each other. Fighters were all sizes, body types, weight classes, and from
all races, even a few races from other planets. Most were humans from Earth
history, past, present, and future. Blue eyes, blonde hair, brunette, green
eyes, brown, yellow, red, all differences. Those who did not know how to
fight were trained to fight. Those who did were also trained in new ways to
battle. Natives, Asians, Europeans, Polynesians, celebrities, etc. Vikings,
pirates, rock stars, classical gladiators, action movie
heroes...athletes...

Going down, strong hands held thick shafts embedded in former tough
guts. Hard muscles gave way under pressure from wooden spearheads invading
the innards. Legs went up into the air almost around the shafts wavering
their tender loins. Bellies were stuck and struck, hard and sure, true and
painfully.




Above the defeated, stood proud chested males, watching their enemies die
slowly or quickly with a confident lust for winning, for them being alive
and their fodder being dead or dying slowly as life force and juice ebbed
out....out holes made by their weapons. Sometimes they let go of the
weapons and watched the dying wrestle with the weapon in them...a second
fight after the fight. The enemy who was alive always losing to the non
living steel or wood gutted into them. But other times, the winner took
pleasure and joy in causing more pain and holding or hanging onto the
weapon while the end was still gut sticking in. Swishing. Twitching. Even
switching one weapon for another in the tunnel of intestine. Viewers soon
found bare, perfect backs playing host to popping out points.  A navigation
in a calm fleshy sea of smooth muscle...a navigation of hard cold reality
and steel, leading the way for guts and other things to exit the
body...belly buttons usually came out the back, sometimes it looked like
they were the first thing to come out and sometimes the last. Mangled,
hardly recognizable. Sometimes whole!

Some smiled as they died. Some groaned and moaned. Some just died. Eyes
open. Eyes shut. Mouth drooling, mouth dry. Face down, back
down. Standing. Some welcomed death. Some fought it and some, knowing they
would lose, fought it anyway...defying it to take them. Defying it, perhaps
some foolish, thought their hard muscled bodies would withstand the awesome
onslaught of metal driving through their rock hard abs via the soft tunnel
of belly button. They died hard and in more ways than one. Those, usually
in love with themselves, gave in and gave out...splashing the arena and
opponents and sometimes the higher up audience with sex cum.

No one knew what would happen. The excitement made hard dicks
inevitable. The draping of the arena were made for this. Muscled guards,
youthful faces and bodies in loin cloths, thongs, g strings, cod pieces,
leather cloths, straps, and even leaves. Hard bodies washboard abbed clone
Thoros men, well armed and wearing stone thongs and loin cloths. Archer
boys on the top walls and sometimes on the lower platforms with their
skinny ribs, concave bellies, sometimes rounded bellies though, with bows
and slick glinting arrows ready to issue death to any that dare not stab
into a navel but some other body part. Outtie buttons, innie and everything
in between laced the fighters, archers, Thoros and regular guards. There
were also spear boys, some Thoros and some non Thoros. These laced the
inside of the arena and also were on the top among the audiences. Spears of
all types, giant wood toothpicks, metal poles, non headed spears, headed
spears.

Of course, the fighters and guards and Thoros had weapons from every
country, swords shaped in everywhich way imaginable.  It was every male's
dream. To fight and die fighting. To go down taking with you. To feel the
unimaginable and survive for a short time (or a long time in many cases)
with the pain of having something sticking in your belly gut for a long
time via the hole you were born with. Or into.

And there were the sounds, some mentioned before. Laughter from both the
dying and the conquerors. Sex sounds. Splashing sweat and cum. Slapping
skin as thighs hit bare buttoxes. Bellies hit bellies. Surprised yelps from
those who thought they were about to score their big navel hit only to get
it in their own ready to slay buttons. Coughs. Groans. Scuffling
dirt. Breathing. In and out. Clanging metal. Crunching flesh sounds. Meat
being stuck sounds. Dialog between opponents. Curses. Screams. "NO!"  and
other one word defiance or shock showing yelps. Backs hitting walls with
thuds. Ripping clothes, ripping flesh from thigh to thigh or hip to
hip. Slits opening up, slits in bellies and slits in
dicks. Spillages. Sounds.

And the sights. Skin covering bone, exposed. Tight
skin. Stabbings. Horizontal shafts in vertical tight bods. Vertical shafts
sticking in fallen horizontal bodies, quivering on the found ground. Legs
in motion. Penises in motion. Flying whiteness. Unraveled by the belly
button intestines. One guy was choked with his own intestines by his
opponent...the opponent was promptly shot in the belly button by an archer
boy, who happily smiled as he watched that one die after 10 minutes of
moaning pain. Smooth undefined bodies or the most defined muscled men ever
seen. They all met it in the arena.

It was an exercise in love and hate. Loving hate or hating love. It was
death and life.




While all this went on for Trio, the sky was hot a while back after the big
battle that ended with Trio being taken to the arena fortress of
Nolo. Simon, who, if you recall, was severely wounded, laid among the
bodies of the dead killed by himself, Aoi, Sole, and Pare. The weed of
healing over Simon's navel and abdominal was dry. He opened it and took it
off the vine that Sole had tied around his waist. It didn't look too
bad. He managed to pull himself up, holding his bare and bloodied belly,
trying to hold it together, long enough to stumble past the smooth, skinny,
plump, muscled bodies of the dead, who were still in the throes of
dying. Most were dead now. He passed spear shafts sticking up out of long
stopped bellies and vee backs. He actually had to tread on a few bellies to
get past all the bodies, for there were so many of them. His bare feet felt
good on soft abs and sometimes hard rock abs. Inadvertently, he nudged a
few growing limp once filled penises with his feet. Cum was drying up in
the hot sun. Simon, in his g string work out bikini briefs, moved on.

Simon moved on.  He reached the temple of caves where there were less
bodies but bodies there were. They were scattered about. A long line of
boyish bodies were strung on a thin spear. Trio's work, Simon nodded to
himself.  "At least I survived."  He turned the corner of the main cave
line and saw an olive skinned kid but not in time.

"Guess again! I not survive! But you not either! Guess again!"

A very thin reed point went into his already mutilated belly button and
slid in deeper than the other wound. Deep, deep deep. It ribbed into his
thick muscular stomach and Simon's body entrenched it. Simon used his hand
to swipe the kid away from the spear and the boy, skinny but well muscled
in the stomach...or at least he was...for his stomach was dripping away
from his body...with intestines too...more Trio handiwork...kind of walked
to the side. He then gripped his sides as if he wanted to grip his button
area but didn't want to chance it. To Simon, he hardly felt the reed in
him. It was almost as if it were a part of him, something that should be
there. Simon looked at the reed dangling out his belly, a minor
inconvenience, "Oh blimey. No."

"YESSSSS!"  The kid ran at the reed and threw himself bodily on it. Simon
couldn't stop him in time. The body hit Simon's bare waist and chest and
the reed slid in harder. The kid grabbed it and his guts spilled over
Simon's bare skin. It felt good to him. "DIEEEEEE as I!!!!"

"My abs can take more than thattttt!"  Simon wasn't moved by the kid much
but the reed was. The body of the boy leaned the reed spear deeper and
deeper into Simon's well worked on and well abused belly button area. His
muscle stopped most of it but the point was sharp and it soon found air out
his bare back. "Fuck! Little fucker!"  Simon kicked up with his knee and
the boy fell off of him, his eyes closing and his guts spilling to the
last, long strings of intestine falling from a large gap on his
belly. There was no more belly. The kid died in a huff of white lather from
his dickhead. Simon was wet too.




The reed found itself stuck deep in thick mountains of muscle behind
Simon's outer flesh. It felt kind of good there, a new part of himself, he
made it and accepted it there. His dick thickened from the pain and the
feeling of a new rod in his body. Simon groaned and grabbed the reed in
him, "Ohhhh," he said as he tried to move it out. His tight body held it
in. He twisted it and jerked it out, his penis and his hips moving forward
in great effort. "Aarrggghh! Got it!"  His shorts tented out. His dick
began to stick through, hanging there as the reed on top it. He arched his
back. It would not get the best of him. He swung his hips. Sweating, he
pulled the long reed out of him and a loud slapping sound broke as the reed
came out. Simon discarded it over the back of the dead olive skinned
beauty. He fell back. He shut his eyes and darkness came, even though the
sun was bright in the sky of this strange dimension that he wished he never
came to.

A long time later it seemed. Simon's eyes opened. He saw what he thought
was an angel. A gorgeous creature. A bit scrawny though, Simon
thought. Fuck that, why am I thinking this? Am I in Heaven, he thought or
the other place. Surely I must be dead. The image standing over him against
the sun's glare came into focus.

His hair glistened sparkly, his skin was golden peach, fleshy but tight. He
had a pierced nipple with a nipple ring of red-gold on his right nipple and
his hair was spiky and now shaved short in front. In back, he had a long
braid, wrapped tightly and ending in a short tail between his fine shoulder
blades. Around his right arm, he had a tattoo set of two swords meeting
each other, the points touching on his upper biceps. He was youthful and
yet not totally innocent. Something told Simon this boy was younger than he
but somewhat more experienced in the more magical things of this world. Let
him be, Simon thought, I hate magic and this land. The boy's eyes glistened
yellow in the pupils. Though the hair was sparkling somewhat yellow and
even silvery, there were black and brown highlights down the entire
length. A feathery ear ring hung from his right and left ears, a knife
pendant hanging from each.  He wore ankle bracelets with the figures of a
white cat and a black cat. Covering his groin was a small circular target
covering, yellow and black with a kind of star design on it. A five pointed
star. It was held on by seeming string, far below a navel offset into a
fine smooth belly. That navel looked as if someone had stuck it up into the
skin and it went up a bit too far in the kid but the navel stuck in and
out, a fine ridge that made it look like a ravioli. On top he wore only a
short back cape that didn't go further than the shoulder blade's middle,
yellow and covering a bit of his shoulders too.

"Cor!" was all Simon could say. "I...I think I know you. I saw you...on the
beach, I think, that time..."

"Don't talk," the boy looked at the pin in his own hand. He licked his fine
thick lips and then realized, "Don't move yet. The healing is not yet
over."

"You...you're that magic guy...took the Boy and the Seer?"

"I am Wiz," the boy nodded seriously. He bent over and stuck the pin into
Simon's belly button.

"What the bleeding hell..."  Simon groaned but then as he felt the metal of
the pin surging in his navel tunnel, the crunching sounds ceased.

"It will do the final healing," Wiz smiled. "You will live. But not just
because of my magic healings. Because you are strong."

"I am maybe so," Simon sat up against a smaller boulder near the cave
mouth, "I am glad to have some help from you."

"Yeah, well, wait until..."  Wiz leaned over and not gently, pulled the pin
out.

"Bring it on, bloke! OWWW!"  Simon said.

"It is finished."




Simon felt his wound vanish. He looked at his belly button. It was as
strong as ever. As alive as ever. Solid, ridged. Whole. "Cor blimey, you
are good."

An eyebrow of mischief raised, Wiz looked at him, "In so many things. My
friends Trio..."

"They are my friends too, now."

"Good, our friends then. Our friends will need some help this time. More
than usual."

"That thing that took them..."

"It was some time ago...an unholy beast witch demon, I am sure working for
Nolo...and somewhat familiar..."  Wiz looked in the blue sky. "No, no,
don't try to stand up just yet."

"They need help? I have to..."  Simon felt a bit dizzy, "What?"

"That will go away soon, I promise, but you must rest, don't move."  Wiz
said, "As far as I know, they cannot call me, summon me or the Seer because
where they are---in Nolo's arana, there are dark forces protecting Nolo and
his fortress, preventing me and the Seer from getting to them."

"How do you know this?"  Simon rested his back on the rock and sighed.

"I..."  Wiz smiled, "Know many things that darkness doesn't. I used to be
somewhat dark myself."

"Well, I would have been too if I didn't see Trio protecting that
kid...something about protecting the innocent makes me feel...well, good."
Simon shut his eyes to rest some more, "I couldn't let Nolo's guys kill
them and the Boy no matter what Nolo's torture belt would have done to me."

"Yes, they will need you but they will need even more than your find
muscles..."  Wiz said. "When you have fully recovered, we shall look for
others who will help us."

"What others? Everyone I've met here have been evil."  Simon said, his eyes
still shut. Simon opened his eyes, realizing what he just said, "With the
exception of you, of course..."

Wiz laughed.

"And oh, huh, that kid the Boy and maybe the Seer too and Trio..."

"Any more exceptions?"  Wiz said. "Rest, later I will forge a weapon for
you."

"Good, cause I don't have any of my own any more unless I take one of
their's..."

"No, don't do that. It is tainted in their blood."  Wiz said.




Later, Simon stood up, feeling much better. It was night and the stars
shone bright. Simon couldn't find Wiz in the general area. He heard a
chant. Looking up, he re-found the boy. The silk smooth kid was on top the
cave roof and waving his hands up. He sounded unearthly. Simon was not sure
he liked it and wouldn't interrupt. He began to leave. Wiz reached up and
pulled what seemed to be a star from the sky. He reached down all the way
with both hands and put it to the cave stone. Then from the stone he pulled
up a slick, golden sword. It was half an inch at the point, but it grew as
the sword reached the middle. Two inches at the middle and that was the
longest part. It was smaller on the end and had a small hilt. Wiz called
down, "Do not leave."  Simon stopped and looked up. Wiz jumped down off the
high roof and landed in front of Simon, the golden sword in his hand. "For
you."

Simon took it and it felt good in his hands. "It is very good and very
heavy...how did you?"

"I can make things change their weight."  Wiz smiled, "Do you...do you
really like it?"

"Why, I said so, didn't I?"  Simon laughed at the kid's self doubt. He then
slapped Wiz on the bare back and said, "Let's go find some allies for Trio,
aye?"  The smack nearly sent Wiz into orbit. He nearly fell over.

"Hey!"  Wiz recovered but backed away.

"Sorry, sometimes I don't know my own strength."

"It...it's probably constantly changing," Wiz rubbed his own shoulder with
the opposite hand and then moved his hand to touch his own back,
"Sure. C'mon, I think I know where you can find some allies."

"Aren't you coming?"

"For a time. I cannot be seen in much of this. The dark forces I told you
about may be on to me."

"Allright, you've done more than enough already," Simon swung the sword in
the air, "I love it."

"Let's go already."

"Yes, magic one," Simon laughed.

Simon later told his newest allies, "We walked for a day...during which the
one named Wiz shared some white substance from which to eat. I didn't dare
ask what it was, all I knew was it tasted good and I needed sustenance. He
called it manna, which I think means food from heaven. I learned here
anything was possible so I ate it. He grew tired and I think it was because
of all his magic. We traveled through a hot desert area..."

Wiz was wrapped around Simon's spread muscled back. He barely fit. The hot
suns of the land shone in the sky. "Three this time," Wiz looked up, "The
number of suns keeps changing. I wonder why that is?"

"If you don't know," Simon laughed, the weight of this skinny boy not even
causing him to break a sweat, "...I certainly do not."




Wiz's back shone with sweat and later even Simon's back was wet. The suns
beat down tremendously. Wiz shut his eyes and seemed to go to sleep as
Simon carried him on back. Wiz's arms were around Simon's neck and Simon
held the skinny but ample wrists. Wiz's legs moved around to Simon's large
but muscled waist. Later, Wiz awoke, "Where are we?"

"Cor, what's that sticking me?"  Simon asked, "You carrying a weapon?"

Wiz's face shone red with embarrassment, redder since the sun had sunburnt
it. He gulped. "Uh..."

Simon reached his right hand around back and between him and Simon and he
came back with white glue, "Oy?! What's this then?"

"Sorry, you just got me so...so horny," Wiz said, "I couldn't help it."

"It wasn't a bumpy ride, was it?"

"No," Wiz put his head on Simon's muscled and bumpy shoulder, "Perfect, it
was."

Simon smiled as Wiz dreamed of Simon himself. Simon flicked the cum off his
hand and held the magic one again. They walked on. By nightfall, the bats
and owls were flying and the crickets chirping. The outskirts of the desert
lead to a wooded area. There was yellow light coming from a path in the
woods. A wooden hut came into sight. As Simon neared it, Wiz on his back,
he realized the "hut" was larger than it looked from the path. The desert
vanished behind them. There were trees standing tall and impressive and
leafy things hanging. The night was cool and refreshing but not terribly
cold. Wiz told Simon, "We've arrived. You can put me down now."

Simon did so and looked at the pub, "That's the pub? It doesn't look like
much."

"From the outside, it's not," Wiz said, "But you will find allies inside."

"Aren't you coming?"

"I cam enough for one day already," Wiz smirked, "And..."  He sat down
against a wooden bark of a tree, on top a fallen log, "...besides I need to
rest. My magic comes with a price...one that I must rest from."

"Okay," Simon said, "You wait here and..."

"Do not be surprised if I have teleported away when you come out but
remember when you do attack Nolo's arena fortress, I will not be far
away...nor will others of my kind..."

"Okay," Simon nodded and patted the kid's hair and ruffled it, "And
thanks."

"You're welcome," Wiz said, "But I'm not a kid."

"No, of course not and you're well cum, too," Simon laughed.




"Very funny," Wiz frowned, "And don't be cocky in there. Be wary, there are
some nasty customers who sometimes travel by this parts and they will cut
your throat, your gizzard, your belly with a slit of a blade, or even your
cock, so don't be cocky..."

Simon smiled, "Yeah, but hey, kid, cocky is my middle name."

"Sure," Wiz smiled and leaned back against the tree. He fell asleep quickly
and began to snore lightly.

"Here goes," Simon said, "The mighty 69 into the great brine...where have I
heard that one? 69 is fitting anyway...."  He kept quiet now as he
approached the pub. To his startlement, he heard some dancing music. A
horn. An oboe.

Simon stepped inside and was taken by the darkness of the place. When his
eyes adjusted, he realized it was not as dark as he first
thought. Smooth. Blue hair. Curved body, the usual belly dancer boy didn't
like the gang that came into the tavern in this dimensional land of
savagery. The tavern was usually a place of no violence, no battles, no
fights, no vedettas, revenge etc. It was kind of like what Switzerland was
in the old world or at least in history class that is what they told him,
he being Casm, when he took history back in those days. Now, here, he had
to dance to live, for he didn't like killing, didn't like the sword, even
though the best swordsman in the dimension taught him how to kill. His dark
olive, copper tone tan didn't made Simon take note. A bit too skinny. Simon
liked more muscle on his men. Casm blinked his long brown lashes and let
his eyes stay closed for a shade longer than usual. A skinny kid with red
hair dyed was at the bar, watching him sway his bony hips, enjoying the
skin between them and the ringed Y shaped inner belly button floating amid
them. The redhead, Johnno, had a bare outtie, freckled belly
button. Johnno, with feathered back red hair, was stunned and wore a knife
at his belt. The bartender, a bald muscle man, kind but wimpy, peered out
from the bar. The crowd was not too bad this night.

Casm wore only a cod piece held by thin rope to round gold ringlets on each
lower hip, slipping lower all the time but pressing all the time. He also
wore ankle bracelets on each ankle, gold also. A toe ring on one toe and
sandals. He wore a feather in one ear, his right ear, attached to an ear
ring. Eyes round as can be but slanted at the sides and big brown. Casm is
Thai, Vietnamese and South African/Germanic, his features more Oriental but
not wholly.

Great, another fey kid, Simon thought as he stood in the back of the Swiss
like pub. He put his back to the wooden wall, the place illuminated by
lanterns and a large spotlight which graced the stage from time to
time. Casm's eye caught Simon's muscle meat. He licked his lips as he
danced.  Almost unseen and liking it that way, a smaller boy sat cross
legged on the floor, bald, a Chinese monk named Chani. He was playing the
music from the oboe, content and smiling. He wore only a rag tied around
his hips.  He and Casm were lightly humming in tune.




A long wooden table of large men caught Simon's eye. He liked muscular men
but he soon realized these musclemen were not natural. Huge bulging arms on
the one in front of the rounded table first held his attention. Shirtless,
this man rose his head up from a mug of drink. He had a silver and gold
metallic arm band around his right arm and a green head band around a mop
of tree like blond hair which stuck up as a bush might. A leather thong of
brown was around his pelvis and brown boots with fringe finished the
body. His stomach was cut more than any Simon had ever seen and he had a
large, impressive chest, larger than Simon's. Gulg was his name and he drew
his sword, a thickish affair, "You fem, sing something we can get used to
listening to. Not this drivel!"

Casm and everyone else but his gang (and maybe even some of them) ignored
Gulg. Simon eyed Gulg and his entire gang, sizing them up. Gulg would be
difficult to take. About 15 of them.

Bec: A brown haired youth with a Rob Lowe-like face and obviously steroid
induced muscles, shoulders, bubbly chest and arms, thick legs and smooth
skin, seen thanks to the blue thong he wore. He had two thin swords, so
thin they were almost sabers. So thin they were on either side of his
thong.

Midic: a thin stomach and overall a thin body. Yet he had well developed
muscles all over. A very cut 8 pack with a thin ridge around an innie
button, with a button wall not far in. A few skin flaps inside. Very well
defined and straw-like blond hair. Stringy yellow knots hanging from a
waist band, not covering much. Yellow weed like boots. A pair of thick long
scimitars which glistened even in this dark pub!

Quar: a tall muscled man with stone jaw and the height that even Gulg did
not have.  Black tights. Hair that hung over his forehead but short in
back. His chest hung bulging over his well cut washboard. He had a long
thick sword that only his 12 inch arms could wield.

Yup: a crew cut head of blond hair, thin muscles and thick upper legs. Gray
shorts. Blue eyes. Two short swords. Rounded outtie with mushroom like
circumference.

Rostun: a Cuban with combed back slick hair of brown, brown eyes, leather
studded cod piece with straps. He held a short sword in one hand and a
longer sword in the other.  A button that goes in but comes out after going
in. A bit of a hairline, unlike the other smoothly shaved bellies and
bodies of his cohorts. This line of hair goes down from belly button to
beneath his shorts.

Jurm: a freckle faced black haired blue eyed youth who had a Dutch boy hair
cut. Straps only cover his privates, hanging down from his waist band. His
penis was growing down out of his straps and he tried to cover it with his
left hand and the hilt of his broadsword. He also had a knife at his side.

Sander: a thin guy with no bulging muscles but he has defined arms and
legs, bulging but tight in obliques. Black eyes and brunette hair. Chiseled
jaw and dimples along with a slight cleft in his chin. More serious than
the others.

Helcin: a blond with long hair, almost to the floor and an outtie belly
button of about three inches. Tight abs and washboard stomach. Not much in
the arms department.

And seven others.

Geman: a short steroid necked thick bodied squat Irish guy with no hair.

Suy: a muscled Thai boy, almost as thick as Gulg and taller. Crisscrossed
ab lines.

Comp: a Zorro like looker with perfect abs, perfect definition, perfect
model looks and a mannequin body, great thighs and tan.




Marley: a crewcut guy so big in the muscles department, Simon doubted he
could move. Wearing nothing at all.

Kelker: a bearded youth, brown haired, chin held up a bit too much, smooth
flat stomach with the hint of ab lines happening, big arms but not as big
as some of the others, shoulders could be broader.

Jobe: a muscled and tall, thin Jamaican with dreadlocks of various
colors. Straw loin cloth.

Someone who looked like Arnold Schwartenegger. Simon wondered if it were
him.

"Fag!"

"I know a gay guy..."

"Who...well...I can't say but I think he's up there singing," Jobe smiled.

"No, man, he ain't singing," Rostun snapped, "He's dancing..."

"I bet he can't cum with a woman around."

"He is a woman, what you mean?"

"Speaking of woman, see that little one playing..."

"I bet that horn he's sucking is standing in for a cock!"

"And that little one, he's a homo too," Gulg pointed to Chani, "I bet they
do it together."

"That true, little one?"

Chani moved his eyes toward them but Casm just kept dancing. Simon thought
he saw the dancer move slightly toward the long table. The barkeep looked
skyward, "Oh no, not this again."

Johnno drew his sword, "I will protect them," he called out to the barkeep.

Simon snorted a laugh at that, "He's brave, I'll say that for him."

"No, you remember what happened the last time?"  The bar keep said.

"I die for my love," Johnno announced to the bar keep.

Gulg started making kissing noises but then he moved up at Casm and grabbed
his upper arm, "You...give me a kiss....c'mon..."

His gang laughing, Gulg didn't know the danger he was in. As if it were
part of his dance and in one fluid movement, Casm kicked Gulg between the
legs and Gulg fell back onto the table, tipping it slightly. His gang all
fell off of it. Gulg held his dick between his hands and fell off the
table. His men sprang into action.

Midic ran at Casm but found his own scimitars pulled from his belt, a
sliding feeling that rubbed against his hips on both sides. Soon his thin
stomach, well developed muscles were host to both points in his belly
button at once. "You do have a very cut 8 pack," Casm said distinctly. The
scimitars shoved into the flaps and parted them more. Casm dug in, "Now
they are more cut than they were."  He pulled out and kicked with one
leg. As Chani got out of the way, Quar grabbed the little boy but Casm
rushed up behind Quar. Chani was held tight by two 12 inch arms. Chani felt
Quar's dick rise up out of the tight thong band and into his butt hole.



"Let me go, let me go!"  Chani yelled, his back to Quar's front as Quar
picked him up.

"You about to feel a piercing pain like..."

"Like?"  Chani yelped. Suddenly, Chani was down on his feet, "Like?"

"Like that!"  Quar looked down and beyond his chest. His eyes took in what
his belly registered. A long point of a scimitar was sticking out of his
navel. Casm had stuck him in the back and pushed it through. "Ike! Ike
that! Like that!"

Chani gulped, "You like that?"

"Stabbed from behind...not right," Quar yelled, "Not right!"

"I got another one," Casm said as he quickly jutted in front of Quar,
between Quar and Chani. Casm didn't wait for the big lug to move at him. He
just took the other one and planted it in above the other scimitar, sliding
it into the bellybutton, rubbing it against the other one and burying the
other two points on the side into the abs to either side of the nice
navel. "Not right? Oh and holding a small boy is! Now, you feel it good."

Chani ran.  Simon saw Gulg get up. The rest of the gang were holding back
as Quar fell forward. Casm used the motion to spin Quar toward Midic. Midic
saw the scimitar sticking out of Quar and held it, trying to push the
weighted one away from himself. Quar smiled evilly and grabbed the other
hilt that was pushed into his back out and stabbed it deeply into
Midic. The two moved at each other and wanted it. They huffed and puffed
and stabbed each other. Casm ignored them as the others of the gang rushed
at him....as one...

Johnno rushed at the gang, "No!"

"Shut up and die!"  Suy, the Thai, shoved his arm out and a long sword went
into Johnno's belly button and out his back...

"Ohhh," Johnno said and looked at the long slab sticking in his guts....

Suy smiled and looked at Johnno. Then he turned to see Casm and threw spite
in his face. Casm yelled, "Johnno!"

Simon moved fast too now...but he hoped it was not too late....Suy's
running Johnno through so easily distracted Casm long enough for the gang
to rush too close to Casm...and they would surely kill him.

TO BE CONTINUED...