https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/ Mon, 13 Apr 2026 06:46:45 +0000 MyBB https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4267 Fri, 10 Apr 2020 04:43:38 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4267        Patrick was quite the show-off.  His firm rock-hard chest couple with washboard abs.  Still young, he thought the world existed for him.  He was pissed when his candidate lost the presidency, so he decided he wanted to join Russia as a soldier.

          (Yeah, right, as if we would permit someone so flaky to join our ranks.)  After seeing his facebook posts and having one of our informants interview him, we decided to pay him a visit.  He took us out to one of his sheds.  It was set up with a gym and an armory.  Quite impressive.

          Once there, he showed us his stuff, proving his strength and how much we would be missing out on without him.  My men were very impressed, as indeed, was I.  However, he was all meat and no morals.  He showed us his gun collection.  He picked up one of his favorites and bragged how nobody could ever get past him when he had this bad boy with him.

          That sounded quite like a challenge to me.  "Oh yeah?" I said, studying one of the blades he had stored on the wall.  

           "Fuck yeah," he replied enthusiastically.  "With these guns," he said kissing his biceps, "and this gun."  He picked up his favorite piece,  "I am invincible.  I am immortal.  I am a g....."

          His words were cut short when I turned and chucked the blade at him, squarely nailing him in the navel.  His muscles tensed as he stared, wide-eyed at my men.  His faced reddened as he held in his breath, trying to resist the urge to show any pain.

          I walked up to him and yanked the blade out of his gut.  He arched forward and stumbled a little, holding one hand against the wound in his abs.  I tossed down the blade.  "Invincible, huh?"

          He stared up into my eyes with a combined look of shock and anger.  I grabbed his 'favorite bad boy' from his hands and emptied the magazine into his flesh.  He twisted and shook from the pounding of each round until he fell to the floor in a heap of wasted man-meat.

          He did prove some benefit for us.  We now have a great new outpost.]]>        Patrick was quite the show-off.  His firm rock-hard chest couple with washboard abs.  Still young, he thought the world existed for him.  He was pissed when his candidate lost the presidency, so he decided he wanted to join Russia as a soldier.

          (Yeah, right, as if we would permit someone so flaky to join our ranks.)  After seeing his facebook posts and having one of our informants interview him, we decided to pay him a visit.  He took us out to one of his sheds.  It was set up with a gym and an armory.  Quite impressive.

          Once there, he showed us his stuff, proving his strength and how much we would be missing out on without him.  My men were very impressed, as indeed, was I.  However, he was all meat and no morals.  He showed us his gun collection.  He picked up one of his favorites and bragged how nobody could ever get past him when he had this bad boy with him.

          That sounded quite like a challenge to me.  "Oh yeah?" I said, studying one of the blades he had stored on the wall.  

           "Fuck yeah," he replied enthusiastically.  "With these guns," he said kissing his biceps, "and this gun."  He picked up his favorite piece,  "I am invincible.  I am immortal.  I am a g....."

          His words were cut short when I turned and chucked the blade at him, squarely nailing him in the navel.  His muscles tensed as he stared, wide-eyed at my men.  His faced reddened as he held in his breath, trying to resist the urge to show any pain.

          I walked up to him and yanked the blade out of his gut.  He arched forward and stumbled a little, holding one hand against the wound in his abs.  I tossed down the blade.  "Invincible, huh?"

          He stared up into my eyes with a combined look of shock and anger.  I grabbed his 'favorite bad boy' from his hands and emptied the magazine into his flesh.  He twisted and shook from the pounding of each round until he fell to the floor in a heap of wasted man-meat.

          He did prove some benefit for us.  We now have a great new outpost.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4263 Wed, 08 Apr 2020 14:59:00 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4263           Steven was a proud young American boy.  He had come to study computer technology at the University of Moscow.  Quite a talented young man.  He could work his wonders on a computer.

          While he studied, we hired him part-time to work on a couple of our servers.  He thought it was for the university and had no suspicion what was really being stored there.

          He was very friendly and outgoing.  He got along with most of the other guys who worked with him.  He would participate in our early-morning workout sessions.  He was quite the athletic type, which is a rarity in the tech world.  He was even skilled in archery.  Who knows, we might have eventually brought him into our team. 

          We first discovered his suspicion when he began to withdraw himself from our social activities.  He seemed nervous and ill-at-ease when talking with his Russian co-workers.  I began carefully studying his online communications back home.  When I finally caught him sending a message that he thought there were top-secret Russian government files on the servers.  He then sent a small attachment of one of the files.

          I was able to intercept the communication and confronted him with the evidence.  He tried to fight, but we had him completely outnumbered.  My men dragged him kicking and screaming to the archery range.  (This way we could blame it as an archery practice accident.)

          He struggled hard against the men who were trying to pin him against the wall.  I gave him little chance to succeed and absolutely no warning.  I pulled back the bow from about seven feet away.  He never even noticed until the bow twanged and the arrow buried itself deep into his midsection.

          He let out a holler and leaned slightly forward.  Before he could make any second reaction, I let look the second arrow.  A deadly aim for the heart.  His jaw stayed open as he let out a final "Huaggh."  

          His strong body quit fighting the men who were pinning him to the wall.  They let go of him as he slowly slumped downward, his glossy eyes staring out at us.  Quite a waste and quite a shame.]]>           Steven was a proud young American boy.  He had come to study computer technology at the University of Moscow.  Quite a talented young man.  He could work his wonders on a computer.

          While he studied, we hired him part-time to work on a couple of our servers.  He thought it was for the university and had no suspicion what was really being stored there.

          He was very friendly and outgoing.  He got along with most of the other guys who worked with him.  He would participate in our early-morning workout sessions.  He was quite the athletic type, which is a rarity in the tech world.  He was even skilled in archery.  Who knows, we might have eventually brought him into our team. 

          We first discovered his suspicion when he began to withdraw himself from our social activities.  He seemed nervous and ill-at-ease when talking with his Russian co-workers.  I began carefully studying his online communications back home.  When I finally caught him sending a message that he thought there were top-secret Russian government files on the servers.  He then sent a small attachment of one of the files.

          I was able to intercept the communication and confronted him with the evidence.  He tried to fight, but we had him completely outnumbered.  My men dragged him kicking and screaming to the archery range.  (This way we could blame it as an archery practice accident.)

          He struggled hard against the men who were trying to pin him against the wall.  I gave him little chance to succeed and absolutely no warning.  I pulled back the bow from about seven feet away.  He never even noticed until the bow twanged and the arrow buried itself deep into his midsection.

          He let out a holler and leaned slightly forward.  Before he could make any second reaction, I let look the second arrow.  A deadly aim for the heart.  His jaw stayed open as he let out a final "Huaggh."  

          His strong body quit fighting the men who were pinning him to the wall.  They let go of him as he slowly slumped downward, his glossy eyes staring out at us.  Quite a waste and quite a shame.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4075 Sun, 01 Mar 2020 05:13:52 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4075       Some kids need to understand that they are not wiser than their parents and one day, it will catch up to them.  Especially, if they think they can use their parents for their money.  Some of us don't take our losses very well.  Take, for instance, Marcus.  He was the young son of one of the mafiosos in town.

          An aspiring MMA fighter, he tried long hours in the gym, and had the very nice physique to show for it.  His father had invested a lot of money in his career.   He was scheduled to fight me this past Friday night.  

          His father made arrangements with me to throw the fight in the 3rd round.  (That way, it wouldn't look rigged.)  Being ever the team player, I agreed.  As was usual, his father bid in favor of his son and I was promised half of his winnings.  (Sounded pretty good to me.)

          Little did we know that Marcus had his own plans.  He and his gay lover, Thad, had planned the opposite.  They knew his father had placed the bet, but they decided instead that Thad should bet in favor of me.  Since the odds paid off more if I won.  When they got their payoff, the would skip town and never have any part with his father again. 

          On the night of the fight, Marcus went down quickly in the last few seconds of the first round.  I was quite surprised and expected to be reprimanded by his father, but he could tell from the look on my face and I could tell from the look on his that we had been had.

          After the fight, we both went into the locker room.  Since we were the last fight, we were the only ones there.  I told him I knew he faked the knock-out and he told me of his and Thad's plans.  A quiet placement of my phone gave his father a full ear on what he was telling me.

          His father ordered one of his men find Thad and "take care of that Son of a Bitch."  The poor chap didn't see it coming.  He stood by the back door of the locker room waiting on Marcus to come out.

          The hit man grabbed the young man by his white hoodie and pulled him into a nearby storage room.  He shoved the boy against the wall and said,  "Here's a present from Mr. Anthony."  He rammed a blade into Thad's gut.  

          The young man tried to scream, but the walls of the room muffled the sound.  The sharp blade penetrated deep into his bowels and Thad could feel ever cold inch of the steel.  The hitman let go of him and he slowly dropped to the floor.  The young man stared  at the handle and watched it sway with every breath he took.

          With a quick jerk, the hitman yanked the blade from the young man's gut.  His stomach jolted upward briefly from the pull, but then his body collapsed back down in a heap on the floor.

          Meanwhile, I was kind enough to hand my phone to Marcus.  His face paled quickly when he heard his father on the other end.  Sweat dripped down his handsome body even more than it did during the fight.

          His father opened the front door of the locker room.  Marcus knew he was not getting away with this.  He bolted for the back door.  He ran out into the alleyway expecting to see Thad.  Instead, he only was one of his father's men standing their with a crossbow.

          "Oh, Fuck!!" The word had barely left his lips when the trigger was pulled and the arrow made a loud thud against the center of his chest.  The force of the hit knocked the young fighter backwards and he fell to the pavement, his arms above his head.  

          The shaft of the arrow gave a single twitch as the young man's heart beat a final time.  Looks like he actually did finally get away from his dad.



]]>       Some kids need to understand that they are not wiser than their parents and one day, it will catch up to them.  Especially, if they think they can use their parents for their money.  Some of us don't take our losses very well.  Take, for instance, Marcus.  He was the young son of one of the mafiosos in town.

          An aspiring MMA fighter, he tried long hours in the gym, and had the very nice physique to show for it.  His father had invested a lot of money in his career.   He was scheduled to fight me this past Friday night.  

          His father made arrangements with me to throw the fight in the 3rd round.  (That way, it wouldn't look rigged.)  Being ever the team player, I agreed.  As was usual, his father bid in favor of his son and I was promised half of his winnings.  (Sounded pretty good to me.)

          Little did we know that Marcus had his own plans.  He and his gay lover, Thad, had planned the opposite.  They knew his father had placed the bet, but they decided instead that Thad should bet in favor of me.  Since the odds paid off more if I won.  When they got their payoff, the would skip town and never have any part with his father again. 

          On the night of the fight, Marcus went down quickly in the last few seconds of the first round.  I was quite surprised and expected to be reprimanded by his father, but he could tell from the look on my face and I could tell from the look on his that we had been had.

          After the fight, we both went into the locker room.  Since we were the last fight, we were the only ones there.  I told him I knew he faked the knock-out and he told me of his and Thad's plans.  A quiet placement of my phone gave his father a full ear on what he was telling me.

          His father ordered one of his men find Thad and "take care of that Son of a Bitch."  The poor chap didn't see it coming.  He stood by the back door of the locker room waiting on Marcus to come out.

          The hit man grabbed the young man by his white hoodie and pulled him into a nearby storage room.  He shoved the boy against the wall and said,  "Here's a present from Mr. Anthony."  He rammed a blade into Thad's gut.  

          The young man tried to scream, but the walls of the room muffled the sound.  The sharp blade penetrated deep into his bowels and Thad could feel ever cold inch of the steel.  The hitman let go of him and he slowly dropped to the floor.  The young man stared  at the handle and watched it sway with every breath he took.

          With a quick jerk, the hitman yanked the blade from the young man's gut.  His stomach jolted upward briefly from the pull, but then his body collapsed back down in a heap on the floor.

          Meanwhile, I was kind enough to hand my phone to Marcus.  His face paled quickly when he heard his father on the other end.  Sweat dripped down his handsome body even more than it did during the fight.

          His father opened the front door of the locker room.  Marcus knew he was not getting away with this.  He bolted for the back door.  He ran out into the alleyway expecting to see Thad.  Instead, he only was one of his father's men standing their with a crossbow.

          "Oh, Fuck!!" The word had barely left his lips when the trigger was pulled and the arrow made a loud thud against the center of his chest.  The force of the hit knocked the young fighter backwards and he fell to the pavement, his arms above his head.  

          The shaft of the arrow gave a single twitch as the young man's heart beat a final time.  Looks like he actually did finally get away from his dad.



]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4053 Sat, 22 Feb 2020 04:57:28 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4053           There is one thing we can never accept on my unit and that is failure.  Dmitri showed great promise when he first joined under my command.  He was young, sharp and very talented in finding things out.  

          He was able to infiltrate U.S. Army Intelligence.  He was very low-level and very low-key, but was ingenious enough to gather some of the most classified information we ever sought.  

          He was also the means of entering incorrect information into their databases.  Unfortunately, he also had to act like he was a "real" American soldier.  He was given information to enter into their database about one of our informants.  He made the mistake of accidentally entering in the real information on one of our informants.

          Luckily, he wasn't our only operative and the informant was whisked away by my unit before being captured.  We then gave him the assignment to try to implicate a defector, but he failed at that too.

          He was not surprised at all when I showed up at his apartment.  He knew he failed me twice and he knew the consequence.  I gave him an opportunity to plead his case, but he knew it was of no use.  He only requested that I use his own sword so that it would look like a suicide.  (Even in death, he was loyal enough to cover his own tracks.)

          I permitted him to write a short suicide note while I got his sword ready.  He stripped off his shirt and hung his dogtags around his neck.  I had him grip the handle of the sword so that only his prints would be found on it.  I then placed my hands upon his and shoved the blade into his upper abs, just below the sternum.

          He leaned forward, gasping in pain.  He lost his grip on the blade and used his hands to hold himself up in a seated position.  His faced reddened as he coughed and gasped.  He struggled to hold himself up, trying to cause no movement of the sword, as this only added to the pain.  Blood oozed out of the wound in his back and ran down the tip of the blade and over the sheets.

           He slowly sank down onto the couch where he had been sitting.  His hands returned to the handle of the blade, grasping it as his chest and head jerked up a couple of times.  After some minor struggling, he looked at me and said, "for mother Russia."  

          With that, his chest sank down, and his head fell to the side.  His grip on the handle eased and his hands slowly slid down the blade. to his chest.

          He was a true patriot of the motherland.]]>           There is one thing we can never accept on my unit and that is failure.  Dmitri showed great promise when he first joined under my command.  He was young, sharp and very talented in finding things out.  

          He was able to infiltrate U.S. Army Intelligence.  He was very low-level and very low-key, but was ingenious enough to gather some of the most classified information we ever sought.  

          He was also the means of entering incorrect information into their databases.  Unfortunately, he also had to act like he was a "real" American soldier.  He was given information to enter into their database about one of our informants.  He made the mistake of accidentally entering in the real information on one of our informants.

          Luckily, he wasn't our only operative and the informant was whisked away by my unit before being captured.  We then gave him the assignment to try to implicate a defector, but he failed at that too.

          He was not surprised at all when I showed up at his apartment.  He knew he failed me twice and he knew the consequence.  I gave him an opportunity to plead his case, but he knew it was of no use.  He only requested that I use his own sword so that it would look like a suicide.  (Even in death, he was loyal enough to cover his own tracks.)

          I permitted him to write a short suicide note while I got his sword ready.  He stripped off his shirt and hung his dogtags around his neck.  I had him grip the handle of the sword so that only his prints would be found on it.  I then placed my hands upon his and shoved the blade into his upper abs, just below the sternum.

          He leaned forward, gasping in pain.  He lost his grip on the blade and used his hands to hold himself up in a seated position.  His faced reddened as he coughed and gasped.  He struggled to hold himself up, trying to cause no movement of the sword, as this only added to the pain.  Blood oozed out of the wound in his back and ran down the tip of the blade and over the sheets.

           He slowly sank down onto the couch where he had been sitting.  His hands returned to the handle of the blade, grasping it as his chest and head jerked up a couple of times.  After some minor struggling, he looked at me and said, "for mother Russia."  

          With that, his chest sank down, and his head fell to the side.  His grip on the handle eased and his hands slowly slid down the blade. to his chest.

          He was a true patriot of the motherland.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4051 Fri, 21 Feb 2020 05:32:11 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4051           Sergeant Vadim was discovered to be working as a double agent.  During our war, he was sending intel on our movements to the enemy.  I'll admit that I was rather new in the KGB and still let my feelings get the best of me.  But this infuriated me.  

          Unfortunately, because his father was a leader in the communist party, I was ordered not to touch him.  Very well.  But I knew of other ways.  There was nothing that a soldier wanted more than good sex after a battle.

          I had a female agent sneak into the camp and wait in his tent.  After a heavy battle, Vadim and his tentmate, Samir, took a nice warm shower, wrapped towels around themselves and went to their tent.  Boy were they surprised to see the naked lady lying on their cots.

          After a hot and heavy threesome, she left and the two, exhausted from the day's strenuous endeavors, (and for Vadim, thanks to the drink the lady prepared for him), the two soldier quickly fell asleep.  I knew the meds would keep Vadim asleep for awhile, so I waited for the evening to advance.

          When things were quiet in the camp, I made my move.  I crept into the tent and saw the two men lying in their cots.  Their naked bodies splayed out for the world to see.

          I went over to Vadim's cot, knelt down and pulled the knife out of the belt on his pants which was lying on the floor.  I admired the blade.  Fine steel.  Oh, how I desired to plunge that blade right into Vadim's heart and watch his hot, muscular body jerk and jolt in it's final death throes.  Unfortunately, our agency couldn't touch him. (Dammit).

          I tapped his shoulder lightly to assure that the drugs were working.  He made a slight movement, but no real response.  Perfect.

          I walked over to where Samir lay sleeping on his cot.  Quite the handsome specimen.  I'm quite sure our female agent had quite the romp with these two.  He lay face-up on his cot, his head resting against his hand.  Quite the beautiful sleeper.

          I placed the tip of the knife against Samir's bellybutton.  He stirred a little, but I was quick to cover his mouth with my other hand.  I slowly inserted the blade.  The hot young soldier awoke.  He struggled on the cot.  His arms pressed against me, trying to push me away.  His legs squirmed and his body jolted as the cold blade sank deeper.

          His wide-eyes stared up at me.  Shock, confusion, pain, sorrow all cried out at me from his teary eyes.  After a few moments of struggle, his strong muscular body lost its intensity.  I placed my hand on his chest and felt the final beats of his heart.  Poor, innocent bystander.  It was a shame he had to die.  But, it was for the greater good.

          I rubbed some of Samir's blood over Vadim's body as he slept.  After cleaning myself up, his unit was alerted to a struggle in Vadim's and Samir's tent.  When they walked in and saw Vadim covered in Samir's blood and Samir laying dead on his cot with Vadim's blade buried deep into his abs, the case was quickly closed in the eyes of his unit.

         It was too bad for Vadim that I was not permitted to kill him. (Too bad for myself as well.  I would have enjoyed it mightily.)  His unit did far worse to him than I ever would have been able to.  Sometimes, battlefield justice is better than a quick kill.  Besides, I did get to enjoy watching the show.]]>           Sergeant Vadim was discovered to be working as a double agent.  During our war, he was sending intel on our movements to the enemy.  I'll admit that I was rather new in the KGB and still let my feelings get the best of me.  But this infuriated me.  

          Unfortunately, because his father was a leader in the communist party, I was ordered not to touch him.  Very well.  But I knew of other ways.  There was nothing that a soldier wanted more than good sex after a battle.

          I had a female agent sneak into the camp and wait in his tent.  After a heavy battle, Vadim and his tentmate, Samir, took a nice warm shower, wrapped towels around themselves and went to their tent.  Boy were they surprised to see the naked lady lying on their cots.

          After a hot and heavy threesome, she left and the two, exhausted from the day's strenuous endeavors, (and for Vadim, thanks to the drink the lady prepared for him), the two soldier quickly fell asleep.  I knew the meds would keep Vadim asleep for awhile, so I waited for the evening to advance.

          When things were quiet in the camp, I made my move.  I crept into the tent and saw the two men lying in their cots.  Their naked bodies splayed out for the world to see.

          I went over to Vadim's cot, knelt down and pulled the knife out of the belt on his pants which was lying on the floor.  I admired the blade.  Fine steel.  Oh, how I desired to plunge that blade right into Vadim's heart and watch his hot, muscular body jerk and jolt in it's final death throes.  Unfortunately, our agency couldn't touch him. (Dammit).

          I tapped his shoulder lightly to assure that the drugs were working.  He made a slight movement, but no real response.  Perfect.

          I walked over to where Samir lay sleeping on his cot.  Quite the handsome specimen.  I'm quite sure our female agent had quite the romp with these two.  He lay face-up on his cot, his head resting against his hand.  Quite the beautiful sleeper.

          I placed the tip of the knife against Samir's bellybutton.  He stirred a little, but I was quick to cover his mouth with my other hand.  I slowly inserted the blade.  The hot young soldier awoke.  He struggled on the cot.  His arms pressed against me, trying to push me away.  His legs squirmed and his body jolted as the cold blade sank deeper.

          His wide-eyes stared up at me.  Shock, confusion, pain, sorrow all cried out at me from his teary eyes.  After a few moments of struggle, his strong muscular body lost its intensity.  I placed my hand on his chest and felt the final beats of his heart.  Poor, innocent bystander.  It was a shame he had to die.  But, it was for the greater good.

          I rubbed some of Samir's blood over Vadim's body as he slept.  After cleaning myself up, his unit was alerted to a struggle in Vadim's and Samir's tent.  When they walked in and saw Vadim covered in Samir's blood and Samir laying dead on his cot with Vadim's blade buried deep into his abs, the case was quickly closed in the eyes of his unit.

         It was too bad for Vadim that I was not permitted to kill him. (Too bad for myself as well.  I would have enjoyed it mightily.)  His unit did far worse to him than I ever would have been able to.  Sometimes, battlefield justice is better than a quick kill.  Besides, I did get to enjoy watching the show.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4017 Tue, 11 Feb 2020 05:38:21 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4017           He had seen too many war movies.  The young soldier thought he was some sort of Rambo.  We had captured his whole squad and were holding them in our small pow camp.  Sure, we torchered them, but then again, there was no surprise in this.

          This otherwise remarkable soldier thought the "good guys always win".  He stripped his shirt to show off his finely toned body, clad himself in weaponry and tried to single-handedly rescue his squad.

          I must admit that he was one hell of a soldier.  He killed about half of my platoon, which was quite an impressive feat.  He probably even thought he was going to win.  He had even hopped on top of one of our tanks and used the top-mounted gun to fire at my men.  

          He was finally stopped when a small rocket was launched at the tank.  It was only a small rpg that landed under the tank.  The blast didn't even reach him, but the shuttering of the tank knocked the young soldier off.

          He landed in a seated position on the road.  He got himself up onto his knees and reached for his guns.  Before he was able to grab his weapons, one of my men rammed his bayonet into the soldier's beautifully sculpted abs.  He just looked down in surprise at the blade sinking into his bowels.  

          His abs flexed and squeezed around the blade, trying to stifle the pain of the cold metal in his flesh.  His head sank in shame as he realized he had failed in his "heroic" rescue attempt.

          With his bayonet still rammed into the young hero's gut, the soldier who had dealt the mortal wound pulled the trigger, unleashing a hail of bullets into the man's gut.

          The soldier's, abs shuttered and rippled as crimson blood spurted out from his belly.  His muscular chest twisted from side to side as his body and his arms flailed as his whole body lurched forward and backward.

          When the barrage of bullets ceased, his body slumped backwards, still in a kneeling position with his torso splayed out with his open eyes staring up into the sky, his handsome torso splayed out for all to admire and his once beautiful abs ripped to shreds.]]>           He had seen too many war movies.  The young soldier thought he was some sort of Rambo.  We had captured his whole squad and were holding them in our small pow camp.  Sure, we torchered them, but then again, there was no surprise in this.

          This otherwise remarkable soldier thought the "good guys always win".  He stripped his shirt to show off his finely toned body, clad himself in weaponry and tried to single-handedly rescue his squad.

          I must admit that he was one hell of a soldier.  He killed about half of my platoon, which was quite an impressive feat.  He probably even thought he was going to win.  He had even hopped on top of one of our tanks and used the top-mounted gun to fire at my men.  

          He was finally stopped when a small rocket was launched at the tank.  It was only a small rpg that landed under the tank.  The blast didn't even reach him, but the shuttering of the tank knocked the young soldier off.

          He landed in a seated position on the road.  He got himself up onto his knees and reached for his guns.  Before he was able to grab his weapons, one of my men rammed his bayonet into the soldier's beautifully sculpted abs.  He just looked down in surprise at the blade sinking into his bowels.  

          His abs flexed and squeezed around the blade, trying to stifle the pain of the cold metal in his flesh.  His head sank in shame as he realized he had failed in his "heroic" rescue attempt.

          With his bayonet still rammed into the young hero's gut, the soldier who had dealt the mortal wound pulled the trigger, unleashing a hail of bullets into the man's gut.

          The soldier's, abs shuttered and rippled as crimson blood spurted out from his belly.  His muscular chest twisted from side to side as his body and his arms flailed as his whole body lurched forward and backward.

          When the barrage of bullets ceased, his body slumped backwards, still in a kneeling position with his torso splayed out with his open eyes staring up into the sky, his handsome torso splayed out for all to admire and his once beautiful abs ripped to shreds.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3999 Sun, 02 Feb 2020 19:53:17 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3999      He was the one responsible.  Having been the office in charge of the cavalry unit that had massacred their main village, he had made the mistake of camping too closeby.  In the darkness of the night, the Comanche snuck into their camp and captured all of his men. 

     The natives were in no mood for mercy.  They strung the young captain up by his hands and stripped him of his clothes.  They made him watched as each of his soldiers were brutally murdered in front of him.  

     Some were gutted, some were impaled through the gut with spears, some had their throats slit.  Blood soaked the sand where each one was butchered.  The lucky ones were killed quickly with a blade to the heart or a hatchet swiftly removing their scalp.  Others would have to writhe in the pain of their mortal wounds until succumbing to the loss of blood.

     The captain could do nothing but watch the terror his men had to endure and only wonder what the natives had in store for him.   The last three of his men, a lieutenant and two sergeants, were knelt down in front of him.  The chiefs approached with the army-issued pistols that these men had once carried.  At point blank, the emptied the rounds into the men's chests.  Blood spurt from their bodies as they died unceremoniously.  The high chief then turned towards the captain.

     He waved and a young indian girl approached his side.  It was considered an extreme dishonor to be killed by a woman.  She pulled back the string of the bow and in a single heart, pierced the captain straight through the chest.

       He stared forward in distress.  The shaft of the arrow quivered with each beat of his heart.  Blood slowly oozed from his lips and his head drooped down.  The battle was over.]]>      He was the one responsible.  Having been the office in charge of the cavalry unit that had massacred their main village, he had made the mistake of camping too closeby.  In the darkness of the night, the Comanche snuck into their camp and captured all of his men. 

     The natives were in no mood for mercy.  They strung the young captain up by his hands and stripped him of his clothes.  They made him watched as each of his soldiers were brutally murdered in front of him.  

     Some were gutted, some were impaled through the gut with spears, some had their throats slit.  Blood soaked the sand where each one was butchered.  The lucky ones were killed quickly with a blade to the heart or a hatchet swiftly removing their scalp.  Others would have to writhe in the pain of their mortal wounds until succumbing to the loss of blood.

     The captain could do nothing but watch the terror his men had to endure and only wonder what the natives had in store for him.   The last three of his men, a lieutenant and two sergeants, were knelt down in front of him.  The chiefs approached with the army-issued pistols that these men had once carried.  At point blank, the emptied the rounds into the men's chests.  Blood spurt from their bodies as they died unceremoniously.  The high chief then turned towards the captain.

     He waved and a young indian girl approached his side.  It was considered an extreme dishonor to be killed by a woman.  She pulled back the string of the bow and in a single heart, pierced the captain straight through the chest.

       He stared forward in distress.  The shaft of the arrow quivered with each beat of his heart.  Blood slowly oozed from his lips and his head drooped down.  The battle was over.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3992 Sat, 01 Feb 2020 05:51:02 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3992    Well, well, well...... 
     There he was, the majestic warrior.  I had sought for many years to have him join my army, but all was for naught.  He said he would never support me in my evil ways.  

     After failing to provide my armies with ample food, I ordered the children of the farmers to be taken.  They were to be reared by my soldiers to become part of my fighting force.  

     This powerful warrior thought I was being unjust.  He had led the weak peasants in their rebellion.  Being a great warrior, he should have known they fought in vain.

     So, there he was.  After having killed scores of my soldiers, he knew that he was the one I wanted most of all.  Though he could fight, he could not protect all of his pathetic ramble of so-called soldiers.  My horde slew them by the hundreds.  Only he was untouchable.

     I had decided, out of the kindness of my heart, to make a deal that I knew he could never refuse.  The deal was this, if he would surrender and join my army, I would return to children to the peasants and their lives would be spared.

     I was surprised when they came out in front of my castle.  The great, mighty warrior agreed to the terms and surrendered himself to spare his people.  I graciously accepted his sword and my men strung him between two poles and gagged in front of all the people.

     In a loud voice, I said, for all of the people to hear.  "You have proven yourself a mighty warrior in battle.  You have proven your loyalty to the people.  You are indeed a great man, a far better man than even I...........  But, you are also a naive fool."  I then, ordered my men to kill all of the villagers.

     The young warrior writhed and struggled in his binds, but could do nothing as the shrieks and screams of his people echoed throughout the valley.

     I placed one hand on his muscular chest.  I could feel his heart pounding forcefully against his sternum.  I slid his own sword deep into his gut until the hilt pressed against his wash-board abs.  His muscular form shook and quivered from the penetrating blade.  His yells and screams were muffled by the gags.  

     His struggle was short-lived and he finally slumped over.  His strong, muscular form hung there, strapped between to poles for several weeks.  Never more would anyone ever oppose me.  Then again, I left none alive to do so.]]>    Well, well, well...... 
     There he was, the majestic warrior.  I had sought for many years to have him join my army, but all was for naught.  He said he would never support me in my evil ways.  

     After failing to provide my armies with ample food, I ordered the children of the farmers to be taken.  They were to be reared by my soldiers to become part of my fighting force.  

     This powerful warrior thought I was being unjust.  He had led the weak peasants in their rebellion.  Being a great warrior, he should have known they fought in vain.

     So, there he was.  After having killed scores of my soldiers, he knew that he was the one I wanted most of all.  Though he could fight, he could not protect all of his pathetic ramble of so-called soldiers.  My horde slew them by the hundreds.  Only he was untouchable.

     I had decided, out of the kindness of my heart, to make a deal that I knew he could never refuse.  The deal was this, if he would surrender and join my army, I would return to children to the peasants and their lives would be spared.

     I was surprised when they came out in front of my castle.  The great, mighty warrior agreed to the terms and surrendered himself to spare his people.  I graciously accepted his sword and my men strung him between two poles and gagged in front of all the people.

     In a loud voice, I said, for all of the people to hear.  "You have proven yourself a mighty warrior in battle.  You have proven your loyalty to the people.  You are indeed a great man, a far better man than even I...........  But, you are also a naive fool."  I then, ordered my men to kill all of the villagers.

     The young warrior writhed and struggled in his binds, but could do nothing as the shrieks and screams of his people echoed throughout the valley.

     I placed one hand on his muscular chest.  I could feel his heart pounding forcefully against his sternum.  I slid his own sword deep into his gut until the hilt pressed against his wash-board abs.  His muscular form shook and quivered from the penetrating blade.  His yells and screams were muffled by the gags.  

     His struggle was short-lived and he finally slumped over.  His strong, muscular form hung there, strapped between to poles for several weeks.  Never more would anyone ever oppose me.  Then again, I left none alive to do so.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3991 Sat, 01 Feb 2020 05:49:21 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3991      The young men had been holed up in the fortress for some time.  Vastly outnumbered by the enemy horde, they were running low on ammunition.  They knew the once the enemy had breached the main gate, they had only one chance of escape and that was over the back wall.  Five of the strongest guys, led by the rusty blonde, linked arms and had the others climb over them to their escape and safety.  

     As soon as the evil horde saw them, they let loose the strings of their bows.  The arrows pierced into their young, muscular frames.  Cries and shrieks of pain echoed across the courtyard as the young men strained.  A few fell from atop the wall, others while still climbing.  

       The five at the base had their abs and chests riddled with arrows.  They slowly sank down into a heap.  Their limbs entwined in their final rest.]]>      The young men had been holed up in the fortress for some time.  Vastly outnumbered by the enemy horde, they were running low on ammunition.  They knew the once the enemy had breached the main gate, they had only one chance of escape and that was over the back wall.  Five of the strongest guys, led by the rusty blonde, linked arms and had the others climb over them to their escape and safety.  

     As soon as the evil horde saw them, they let loose the strings of their bows.  The arrows pierced into their young, muscular frames.  Cries and shrieks of pain echoed across the courtyard as the young men strained.  A few fell from atop the wall, others while still climbing.  

       The five at the base had their abs and chests riddled with arrows.  They slowly sank down into a heap.  Their limbs entwined in their final rest.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3970 Tue, 28 Jan 2020 01:55:00 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3970 It was a cool day.  The breeze was off of the mainland, chilling the air.  But, this didn't matter.  It was the final test day for which cadets would be admitted into our secret training program to become undercover agents.

     Each trainer was assigned two young cadets.  They had already undergone rigorous physical, mental and emotional challenges and out of over 300 candidates, only 10 remained.  Yet, we had one final test.  In order to become a true agent of our sector of the agency, you had to prove that you could kill indiscriminately. 

     I spent 3 hours training my two cadets on how to wield a sword.  They were already tired from the long night and their strong, dirty-covered bodies were sore and fatigued, yet this was it, the final training and final test. 

     They were both dedicated to the training and gave me their all.  They even offered each other advice on how the other could have better blocked certain moves, etc.  Both were very loyal to their country, thus, their comraderie to each other was strong.

     The two seemed to get along very well and I would be proud to have both on my unit, but I knew at least one of them would fail.  After the three hours were up, the two judges arrived.  

     The two were handed real swords to replace their dull practice swords.  They were then ordered to fight to the death.  Only one would be permitted to train with me in the field.  

     The two faced each other and the swords began swinging.  Even in their exhausted and fatigued state, both men showed great endurance and stamina.  They fought as if they were fresh from a rest.  The cold, the pain, the fatigue was gone.  All that was left was the true warriors within.  And they came at each other with a vengeance.

     The clanking sounds of their sword lasted for about 10 minutes until both went for a kill at the same time.  Each one buried their swords to the hilt in the others' gut.  Their beautiful abs tightened hard around the blade and they stepped back and stared triumphantly at their accomplishment.

     They remained standing, the blades still protruding from their abs.  Turning toward the judges, they awaited approval.  The judges smiled, pleased at the battle.  

     The judges came to me with their verdict.  They granted me permission to have both treated for their injuries.  If they survived, I could train both of them in the field.  I nodded at their approval.

    I walked out to the two cadets.  Both stood proud and true, marveling in their extraordinary accomplishment.  Both were indeed great specimens of manhood.  I grabbed the hilts that were sticking out of their bellies and yanked them out.  They both stumbled a little at the forcefulness with which I did this.  

     I then drove the swords upward through their upper abs and into their chest cavities.  Their eyes widened and their chests heaved as the blades pierced deep into their lungs.  They were brought up on their toes as their torsos lurched spewing blood from their mouths.  I tore out the blades again and both men collapsed as two heaps of manmeat on the cold rocks.

     They may have gotten the judges approval, but failed to get mine.  The judges expectation was for one to win.  Mine was that one should not lose.  

And both had lost.   

And this was unacceptable. ]]> It was a cool day.  The breeze was off of the mainland, chilling the air.  But, this didn't matter.  It was the final test day for which cadets would be admitted into our secret training program to become undercover agents.

     Each trainer was assigned two young cadets.  They had already undergone rigorous physical, mental and emotional challenges and out of over 300 candidates, only 10 remained.  Yet, we had one final test.  In order to become a true agent of our sector of the agency, you had to prove that you could kill indiscriminately. 

     I spent 3 hours training my two cadets on how to wield a sword.  They were already tired from the long night and their strong, dirty-covered bodies were sore and fatigued, yet this was it, the final training and final test. 

     They were both dedicated to the training and gave me their all.  They even offered each other advice on how the other could have better blocked certain moves, etc.  Both were very loyal to their country, thus, their comraderie to each other was strong.

     The two seemed to get along very well and I would be proud to have both on my unit, but I knew at least one of them would fail.  After the three hours were up, the two judges arrived.  

     The two were handed real swords to replace their dull practice swords.  They were then ordered to fight to the death.  Only one would be permitted to train with me in the field.  

     The two faced each other and the swords began swinging.  Even in their exhausted and fatigued state, both men showed great endurance and stamina.  They fought as if they were fresh from a rest.  The cold, the pain, the fatigue was gone.  All that was left was the true warriors within.  And they came at each other with a vengeance.

     The clanking sounds of their sword lasted for about 10 minutes until both went for a kill at the same time.  Each one buried their swords to the hilt in the others' gut.  Their beautiful abs tightened hard around the blade and they stepped back and stared triumphantly at their accomplishment.

     They remained standing, the blades still protruding from their abs.  Turning toward the judges, they awaited approval.  The judges smiled, pleased at the battle.  

     The judges came to me with their verdict.  They granted me permission to have both treated for their injuries.  If they survived, I could train both of them in the field.  I nodded at their approval.

    I walked out to the two cadets.  Both stood proud and true, marveling in their extraordinary accomplishment.  Both were indeed great specimens of manhood.  I grabbed the hilts that were sticking out of their bellies and yanked them out.  They both stumbled a little at the forcefulness with which I did this.  

     I then drove the swords upward through their upper abs and into their chest cavities.  Their eyes widened and their chests heaved as the blades pierced deep into their lungs.  They were brought up on their toes as their torsos lurched spewing blood from their mouths.  I tore out the blades again and both men collapsed as two heaps of manmeat on the cold rocks.

     They may have gotten the judges approval, but failed to get mine.  The judges expectation was for one to win.  Mine was that one should not lose.  

And both had lost.   

And this was unacceptable. ]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3969 Tue, 28 Jan 2020 01:54:00 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3969         After I had killed the lieutenant, it wasn't long before there was an investigation.  My alibi stuck like solid granite.  With several witnesses and even video evidence that I was elsewhere, the investigators were quick to rule me out as a suspect.

          I got to play the wailing victim who lost his gay lover.  One of the younger investigators, who I could tell was another one of those newbies from intel, bought it big time.  I could tell from the looks he gave me that he was intrigued, even captivated, by my poor woeful circumstance.

          I even made it a point to break out in tears and hug him in my "grief".  I could tell from his response (or lack thereof) that he was interested in "comforting" me.  I pulled up the bottom of my shirt to dry my teary eyes and his glance went immediately to my washboard abs.  Yep, he was indeed interested.

          I was put up in a hotel room, as the apartment was now a crime scene.  When the chief detective had asked for someone to drive me there, I glanced over at the handsome young investigator and he was quick to volunteer.

          I invited him in and he agreed.  He stayed with me most of the night.  (He did have to return to the office for debriefing, but was very quick to return.  I guess, he didn't want to leave me alone in my "sorrows".)

           The night was hot and lustful.  The aphrodisiacs I slipped him went entirely unnoticed and made him even more passionate.  I could tell he had been holding himself back from relationships like most rookies.  This only makes them want it more when the opportunity arises.

          After several hours of love-making (plus a few tranquilizers), he was out-cold asleep in my bed.  I grabbed his car keys and went out to his car.  Sure enough, his computer was hidden in a secret compartment.  (You CIA operatives are so predictable.)

          I brought it in and began scrolling through the files.  Jackpot.  He had some clearances that gave me all their information on members of my team.  The fools had tracked me to up to 5 months ago.  (Looks like I was way ahead of them.)

          I quickly downloaded all of the intel, plus even got the identities of some of their undercover agents.  I returned the computer to the car.  It was almost time for him to wake up.  He had to be at work in an hour.

          I started a fresh pot of coffee.  The aroma filled the hotel room, waking him from his slumber.  He pulled on his underwear and came to the table.  It seems he was told he could come in later today.  Looks like we were going to have some time together.

          We sat and talked for awhile.  He knew from my interviews yesterday, that I had taken the exams to get into the CIA but didn't pass them.  We talked about the recruit training and testing program.  It seems we had a few experiences in common.

          I asked him if working for the CIA was all it was made out to be.  He said it wasn't.  He began complaining about his superiors and the bureaucracy.  I gave him some advice, as my record indicated that my father was a high-level operative.  

          The young man told me how difficult it was to get his superiors to accept his analysis.  He had tried to convince them that my boyfriend's death was a KGB hit, but they were all so convinced it was merely a burglary.  (Well, this was informative indeed.)

          He explained how the kill was in the typical spot for KGB training, especially from some sicko agent named "#####" (sorry, I'm not foolish enough to give my identity up here.)  He said the only difference was the knife that was used.  He said that it was usually a special-issued blade that the assassins received. 

          I told him that I knew exactly what he was talking about.  I got a blade out of my suitcase.  One that my "father" had given me.  He young officer was very intrigued.  I let him hold it and examine the craftsmanship of it.  He even tickled his bellybutton with the tip.  (It seems this may have been some sort of fetish for him.)

          When he handed it back to me, I thrust it straight into his gut.  I covered his screams with a passionate kiss.  His eyes were wide and his muscles quivered from the shock of the blade tearing into his guts.  I placed my hand on his chest and could feel his heart pounding.

         I leaned to his ear and whispered.  "I bet that was the best orgasm you ever had.  I'll let you keep that blade as a souvenir." I backed away and he stared up at me.  He had felt a huge rush down in his groin and it hadn't registered to him what it was.

          He placed one hand in his underwear and felt the warm fluid pulsating from him.  I stood there, watching, waiting.  His gut muscles began spasming from the pain that he was trying to hold in.  He doubled over, coughed a few times and collapsed on the floor.

          Looks like I had some work to do.  Get another phone, call a cleanup team and find me another intel officer.  ]]>         After I had killed the lieutenant, it wasn't long before there was an investigation.  My alibi stuck like solid granite.  With several witnesses and even video evidence that I was elsewhere, the investigators were quick to rule me out as a suspect.

          I got to play the wailing victim who lost his gay lover.  One of the younger investigators, who I could tell was another one of those newbies from intel, bought it big time.  I could tell from the looks he gave me that he was intrigued, even captivated, by my poor woeful circumstance.

          I even made it a point to break out in tears and hug him in my "grief".  I could tell from his response (or lack thereof) that he was interested in "comforting" me.  I pulled up the bottom of my shirt to dry my teary eyes and his glance went immediately to my washboard abs.  Yep, he was indeed interested.

          I was put up in a hotel room, as the apartment was now a crime scene.  When the chief detective had asked for someone to drive me there, I glanced over at the handsome young investigator and he was quick to volunteer.

          I invited him in and he agreed.  He stayed with me most of the night.  (He did have to return to the office for debriefing, but was very quick to return.  I guess, he didn't want to leave me alone in my "sorrows".)

           The night was hot and lustful.  The aphrodisiacs I slipped him went entirely unnoticed and made him even more passionate.  I could tell he had been holding himself back from relationships like most rookies.  This only makes them want it more when the opportunity arises.

          After several hours of love-making (plus a few tranquilizers), he was out-cold asleep in my bed.  I grabbed his car keys and went out to his car.  Sure enough, his computer was hidden in a secret compartment.  (You CIA operatives are so predictable.)

          I brought it in and began scrolling through the files.  Jackpot.  He had some clearances that gave me all their information on members of my team.  The fools had tracked me to up to 5 months ago.  (Looks like I was way ahead of them.)

          I quickly downloaded all of the intel, plus even got the identities of some of their undercover agents.  I returned the computer to the car.  It was almost time for him to wake up.  He had to be at work in an hour.

          I started a fresh pot of coffee.  The aroma filled the hotel room, waking him from his slumber.  He pulled on his underwear and came to the table.  It seems he was told he could come in later today.  Looks like we were going to have some time together.

          We sat and talked for awhile.  He knew from my interviews yesterday, that I had taken the exams to get into the CIA but didn't pass them.  We talked about the recruit training and testing program.  It seems we had a few experiences in common.

          I asked him if working for the CIA was all it was made out to be.  He said it wasn't.  He began complaining about his superiors and the bureaucracy.  I gave him some advice, as my record indicated that my father was a high-level operative.  

          The young man told me how difficult it was to get his superiors to accept his analysis.  He had tried to convince them that my boyfriend's death was a KGB hit, but they were all so convinced it was merely a burglary.  (Well, this was informative indeed.)

          He explained how the kill was in the typical spot for KGB training, especially from some sicko agent named "#####" (sorry, I'm not foolish enough to give my identity up here.)  He said the only difference was the knife that was used.  He said that it was usually a special-issued blade that the assassins received. 

          I told him that I knew exactly what he was talking about.  I got a blade out of my suitcase.  One that my "father" had given me.  He young officer was very intrigued.  I let him hold it and examine the craftsmanship of it.  He even tickled his bellybutton with the tip.  (It seems this may have been some sort of fetish for him.)

          When he handed it back to me, I thrust it straight into his gut.  I covered his screams with a passionate kiss.  His eyes were wide and his muscles quivered from the shock of the blade tearing into his guts.  I placed my hand on his chest and could feel his heart pounding.

         I leaned to his ear and whispered.  "I bet that was the best orgasm you ever had.  I'll let you keep that blade as a souvenir." I backed away and he stared up at me.  He had felt a huge rush down in his groin and it hadn't registered to him what it was.

          He placed one hand in his underwear and felt the warm fluid pulsating from him.  I stood there, watching, waiting.  His gut muscles began spasming from the pain that he was trying to hold in.  He doubled over, coughed a few times and collapsed on the floor.

          Looks like I had some work to do.  Get another phone, call a cleanup team and find me another intel officer.  ]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3953 Mon, 27 Jan 2020 05:37:35 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3953          Ever since those Americans allowed gays into the military, it has become oh so easy to infiltrate their intelligence units.  You don't even have to pass their rigorous exams.  Their hot, young soldiers long for "friendly" accompaniment.  I merely showed up, befriended a handsome young lieutenant (newly graduated from some top-notch military school), and moved into an apartment with him.

          He never once suspected that I was a foreign operative.  He thought I was some guy from California.  I opened his eyes to new and exciting sexual experiences.  (The trainers in the KGB had taught me well.)  

          Little did he know I was stealing the intel briefings from his computer while he was in the shower.  It was especially easy once I figured out that he used my name as his password.  

          Well, unfortunately, one day, he caught me in his files.  It was quite unfortunate.  He was handsome and quite enjoyable in the bedroom.  However, I had a job to do.

          He stood there, shocked that I had hacked into his computer.  I merely gave him a sheepish grin and grabbed the knife from the counter.  Before he could react, I rammed it into his sweet abs.

          He backed up against the brick wall.  His eyes showed that he was hurt, both physically and emotionally.   Poor guy, I felt sorry for him.  He writhed a little, but made no noise, just the heaving of his chest with every breath.

          I watched him until his body limped and his puppy eyes glossed over.  I knew I was going to miss him, but my duty to the motherland was greater.  Besides, there would be many other handsome young soldiers looking for some companionship.]]>          Ever since those Americans allowed gays into the military, it has become oh so easy to infiltrate their intelligence units.  You don't even have to pass their rigorous exams.  Their hot, young soldiers long for "friendly" accompaniment.  I merely showed up, befriended a handsome young lieutenant (newly graduated from some top-notch military school), and moved into an apartment with him.

          He never once suspected that I was a foreign operative.  He thought I was some guy from California.  I opened his eyes to new and exciting sexual experiences.  (The trainers in the KGB had taught me well.)  

          Little did he know I was stealing the intel briefings from his computer while he was in the shower.  It was especially easy once I figured out that he used my name as his password.  

          Well, unfortunately, one day, he caught me in his files.  It was quite unfortunate.  He was handsome and quite enjoyable in the bedroom.  However, I had a job to do.

          He stood there, shocked that I had hacked into his computer.  I merely gave him a sheepish grin and grabbed the knife from the counter.  Before he could react, I rammed it into his sweet abs.

          He backed up against the brick wall.  His eyes showed that he was hurt, both physically and emotionally.   Poor guy, I felt sorry for him.  He writhed a little, but made no noise, just the heaving of his chest with every breath.

          I watched him until his body limped and his puppy eyes glossed over.  I knew I was going to miss him, but my duty to the motherland was greater.  Besides, there would be many other handsome young soldiers looking for some companionship.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3952 Mon, 27 Jan 2020 05:36:17 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3952           The two men faced each other, fists clenched and anger raging.  They had been lifelong friends, but the newly introduced presence of a woman made their hormones broil.  

          The fought long and hard.  Their bulging muscles throbbed, and flexed as they struggled against each other.  The woman merely watched on.  Their coveting of the woman's hand matched with their passionate jealously for the other fueled their rage.

          Jake had gotten the upper-hand, beating Corey against the fence.  Corey turned away, sparing his handsome young face from the onslaught of Jake's fists.  After a couple of minutes, Jake grabbed the spear out of the woman's hands and rammed it through Corey's back.

           The spear pierced all the way through the man.  Corey's body arched backwards as the spear plunged through his bowels and out of his gut.  Jake shoved more of the spear through for good measure, bringing Corey up on his toes as pain ripped through his gut.

          Jake went to the woman, leaving his former friend bleeding profusely with the spear through his handsome young body.   

          Through his anger, Corey was able to regain his thought.  If he couldn't be with the woman, he would be with Jake.  He slowly turned to face Jake whose back was turned to him.  Corey then began running at his handsome companion.

          Jake heard the footsteps and turned to see Corey charging him, but was too slow to dodge the sharp tip of the spear.  It drove deep into his abs.  Jake let out a loud yell and Corey winced as the spear that was sticking out of his body penetrated into his friend's gut.

          The two stood there, facing each other.  Their bowels burning with shocks of pain.  They stared into each other's eyes.  Sensing the pain, hurt, desire and lust.  Their bodies began failing and their knees buckled as the two fell to the ground.  Corey tried to push himself up and off the spear, but it was too much.

          Finally, the two succumbed and died, their bodies pressed against each other.  Neither had won the woman, but they had won each others' companionship.]]>           The two men faced each other, fists clenched and anger raging.  They had been lifelong friends, but the newly introduced presence of a woman made their hormones broil.  

          The fought long and hard.  Their bulging muscles throbbed, and flexed as they struggled against each other.  The woman merely watched on.  Their coveting of the woman's hand matched with their passionate jealously for the other fueled their rage.

          Jake had gotten the upper-hand, beating Corey against the fence.  Corey turned away, sparing his handsome young face from the onslaught of Jake's fists.  After a couple of minutes, Jake grabbed the spear out of the woman's hands and rammed it through Corey's back.

           The spear pierced all the way through the man.  Corey's body arched backwards as the spear plunged through his bowels and out of his gut.  Jake shoved more of the spear through for good measure, bringing Corey up on his toes as pain ripped through his gut.

          Jake went to the woman, leaving his former friend bleeding profusely with the spear through his handsome young body.   

          Through his anger, Corey was able to regain his thought.  If he couldn't be with the woman, he would be with Jake.  He slowly turned to face Jake whose back was turned to him.  Corey then began running at his handsome companion.

          Jake heard the footsteps and turned to see Corey charging him, but was too slow to dodge the sharp tip of the spear.  It drove deep into his abs.  Jake let out a loud yell and Corey winced as the spear that was sticking out of his body penetrated into his friend's gut.

          The two stood there, facing each other.  Their bowels burning with shocks of pain.  They stared into each other's eyes.  Sensing the pain, hurt, desire and lust.  Their bodies began failing and their knees buckled as the two fell to the ground.  Corey tried to push himself up and off the spear, but it was too much.

          Finally, the two succumbed and died, their bodies pressed against each other.  Neither had won the woman, but they had won each others' companionship.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3832 Tue, 21 Jan 2020 05:09:45 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3832           Young foolish American boy.  Did he really think he would have any success against the KGB.  The CIA did well in making him look the part.  Unfortunately, they got the dialect wrong.  

          Not that it really mattered, I was on to him since he showed up.  But, then again, it was my business (and dare I say, in my best interest) to know who the CIA had hired to assassinate me.  After all, I had taken out the two others sent before this one.

          It was rather unfortunate to see how sloppy he was at his job.  He must have been last in his class, but nonetheless, he was the one they sent, the poor bastard.

          My men captured him on one of his daily morning jogs. (way too predictable).  They bought him to the abandoned warehouse.  He put up quite a good fight.  Totally covered in dirt, sweat and bruises, he sat on the chair waiting for me.

          Totally arrogant and cocky, just like the rest of them.  Threatening me with drones, claiming others knew where he was,  all signs of true desperation.  Yet, even through his attempts at deception, he remained professionally proud of himself.  

          Little did he know, we already took out the drone.  We already set up additional tracing beacons sending out the same frequency at the one embedded in his thigh.  Poor arrogant boy, was ignorant that the cards he held in his hand were gone.

          But, I was kind enough to fill him in on his (and his agency's) shortcomings.  He still remained cocky, just like all of those other young American punks.  He even offered to switch sides and work for me.  (oh, how amusing this was.)

          Man, was he pissed when I turned him down.  Afterall, I couldn't possibly let someone who performed so poorly work for me.  His anger blew up when I told him this.  

          He went for one of my men's knife.  Little did he know I set it up that way, as a knife is my preferred method of death.  He swung it at the guards, who backed away.  He looked arrogantly at me, expecting me to flinch.  I gave him no such satisfaction, I stood my ground.

          I admired his young, strong, muscular body.... such a waste.  He made his move at me and I quickly disarmed him.  Holding the tip of the blade against his navel and my other hand on his shoulder, I sat him back down on the stool.

          He told me he would tell me everything he knew if I would spare his life.  (Still cocky, too. I might add.)  I told him there was nothing he knew that I didn't.  The man charged by the CIA to train him was one of my men.

          I held his shoulder firmly as I sank the blade deep into his gut.  He winced slightly at the pain, but wouldn't give me the pleasure of expressing his feelings.  He regained his composure and flipped me the bird.  (Oh how amusing it was to see a man fall at the height of arrogance.)  

          He slid to the floor on his knees and struggled to pull out the blade from his bowels.  As he did, more blood gushed out, until his young, strong muscular body fell in a heap on the floor.  

          I can't wait until the send the next one.......]]>           Young foolish American boy.  Did he really think he would have any success against the KGB.  The CIA did well in making him look the part.  Unfortunately, they got the dialect wrong.  

          Not that it really mattered, I was on to him since he showed up.  But, then again, it was my business (and dare I say, in my best interest) to know who the CIA had hired to assassinate me.  After all, I had taken out the two others sent before this one.

          It was rather unfortunate to see how sloppy he was at his job.  He must have been last in his class, but nonetheless, he was the one they sent, the poor bastard.

          My men captured him on one of his daily morning jogs. (way too predictable).  They bought him to the abandoned warehouse.  He put up quite a good fight.  Totally covered in dirt, sweat and bruises, he sat on the chair waiting for me.

          Totally arrogant and cocky, just like the rest of them.  Threatening me with drones, claiming others knew where he was,  all signs of true desperation.  Yet, even through his attempts at deception, he remained professionally proud of himself.  

          Little did he know, we already took out the drone.  We already set up additional tracing beacons sending out the same frequency at the one embedded in his thigh.  Poor arrogant boy, was ignorant that the cards he held in his hand were gone.

          But, I was kind enough to fill him in on his (and his agency's) shortcomings.  He still remained cocky, just like all of those other young American punks.  He even offered to switch sides and work for me.  (oh, how amusing this was.)

          Man, was he pissed when I turned him down.  Afterall, I couldn't possibly let someone who performed so poorly work for me.  His anger blew up when I told him this.  

          He went for one of my men's knife.  Little did he know I set it up that way, as a knife is my preferred method of death.  He swung it at the guards, who backed away.  He looked arrogantly at me, expecting me to flinch.  I gave him no such satisfaction, I stood my ground.

          I admired his young, strong, muscular body.... such a waste.  He made his move at me and I quickly disarmed him.  Holding the tip of the blade against his navel and my other hand on his shoulder, I sat him back down on the stool.

          He told me he would tell me everything he knew if I would spare his life.  (Still cocky, too. I might add.)  I told him there was nothing he knew that I didn't.  The man charged by the CIA to train him was one of my men.

          I held his shoulder firmly as I sank the blade deep into his gut.  He winced slightly at the pain, but wouldn't give me the pleasure of expressing his feelings.  He regained his composure and flipped me the bird.  (Oh how amusing it was to see a man fall at the height of arrogance.)  

          He slid to the floor on his knees and struggled to pull out the blade from his bowels.  As he did, more blood gushed out, until his young, strong muscular body fell in a heap on the floor.  

          I can't wait until the send the next one.......]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3812 Thu, 16 Jan 2020 17:27:09 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3812    He thought he was better than the master.  He thought wrong.  Everyday, the master asked if there were any challengers for his position.  On this day, Chai made the mistake of standing up.

          It was a short-lived challenge as the master merely flung his blade across the room, nailing the young student in the gut.  There was a gasp as the young man stood there in shock at the swiftness of the master's response.

          After a few seconds, the student pulled the blade from his abs and fell to his knees.  He bowed his head in shame to his master and collapsed on the floor.]]>    He thought he was better than the master.  He thought wrong.  Everyday, the master asked if there were any challengers for his position.  On this day, Chai made the mistake of standing up.

          It was a short-lived challenge as the master merely flung his blade across the room, nailing the young student in the gut.  There was a gasp as the young man stood there in shock at the swiftness of the master's response.

          After a few seconds, the student pulled the blade from his abs and fell to his knees.  He bowed his head in shame to his master and collapsed on the floor.]]>