https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/ Sat, 25 Apr 2026 05:16:31 +0000 MyBB https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=5362 Fri, 08 Jan 2021 06:18:32 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=5362 This hot young rich kid had the most insane parties ever.  Booze, girls, three jacuzzi's, 2 pools, an in-home theatre room, not to forget 12 bedrooms.  His father was filthy rich and was always out of town staying at one of his other mansions, leaving Brent with the house all to himself.
 
      Brent held huge parties every Saturday.  Live DJ, music, games, you name it.  He would always invite as many of us college athletes to his parties.  Being a closeted gay guy,  (You just don't advertise these sorts of things when you're a wrestler.), I was really attracted to him, but there was something creepy about him.
 
       I watched him carefully as he made his rounds during a couple of parties.  He would wait for one of the "hot" guys to talk to him.  He would end up introducing him to one of the girls and, giving them a "special" drink from his wine cellar, he would send them up to his private bedroom.  After a couple minutes, the girl would come out and give Brent a nod.
 
       After the party, Brent would go up to his room and rape the holy hell out of the poor young athlete.  I watched a couple times through the window, as Brent slammed those boys hard.  They were so dazed and fucked up, they didn't know what was going on.  They would often cry out in pain and he seemed to enjoy every minute of it.  It was quite a show to watch.
 
      After his first orgasm, Brent would get a hot shower, lube back up and go at it again.  I swear, this guy would have at least four orgasms every Saturday night.
 

      In the morning,  he would threaten the guy with the videos.  They would always fold, especially, when he handed them 5 grand for their troubles.]]> This hot young rich kid had the most insane parties ever.  Booze, girls, three jacuzzi's, 2 pools, an in-home theatre room, not to forget 12 bedrooms.  His father was filthy rich and was always out of town staying at one of his other mansions, leaving Brent with the house all to himself.
 
      Brent held huge parties every Saturday.  Live DJ, music, games, you name it.  He would always invite as many of us college athletes to his parties.  Being a closeted gay guy,  (You just don't advertise these sorts of things when you're a wrestler.), I was really attracted to him, but there was something creepy about him.
 
       I watched him carefully as he made his rounds during a couple of parties.  He would wait for one of the "hot" guys to talk to him.  He would end up introducing him to one of the girls and, giving them a "special" drink from his wine cellar, he would send them up to his private bedroom.  After a couple minutes, the girl would come out and give Brent a nod.
 
       After the party, Brent would go up to his room and rape the holy hell out of the poor young athlete.  I watched a couple times through the window, as Brent slammed those boys hard.  They were so dazed and fucked up, they didn't know what was going on.  They would often cry out in pain and he seemed to enjoy every minute of it.  It was quite a show to watch.
 
      After his first orgasm, Brent would get a hot shower, lube back up and go at it again.  I swear, this guy would have at least four orgasms every Saturday night.
 

      In the morning,  he would threaten the guy with the videos.  They would always fold, especially, when he handed them 5 grand for their troubles.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4060 Mon, 24 Feb 2020 08:17:31 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=4060 Chapter 3 “The locker room”
Scott understood that wink old man Jensen had given him. He had seen his father do the same thing. It was a sign from a secret society that his father operated from the underground chambers beneath the church.

Despite the instruction to go home to his father, Scott made a detour back to the college. He badly needed a shower, plus he wanted to check up on Marcus, who the three of them had left behind as they chased Ryan into the woods.

Scott entered the locker room where the young runner had caught him and his buddies earlier. His clothes were still slung over the bench by his locker. Everything was just as they had left it.

His heart was still pounding in his chest. What a rush it was to ram his blade into that freshman's body and watch him writhe in pain. The adrenaline continued coursing its way through his veins.

Scott placed his knife under his pile of sweaty workout clothes and the towel that he had been using just before they had given chase Ryan into the woods. He slipped out of his shorts and kicked them under the bench. His body was caked in dirt and sweat, with blood splatter on his hands, arms and torso. His excitement from the earlier events was clearly recognizable. He had to hurry and wash the blood off his body before anyone noticed.

“That for me?” Scott immediately recognized the voice of Marcus, the team's towel boy. He had been with Scott and the other two before Ryan caught them. He was Scott's little boy toy. Marcus' deep brown eyes stared up at Scott like a puppy begging for a morsel. He was looking down at Scott's hard manhood.

The quarterback merely grinned back at the towel boy. While, yes, he wanted (needed even) to burn off some hot steam, he knew that it wouldn't be too long before the next workout group ended and the locker room would get a little more traffic. “Not now, maybe later. I'm gonna need another towel when you have the time.”

Marcus looked down like a lost little boy. Scott turned and headed into the showers. He purposefully flexed his glutes as he walked away, knowing Marcus was watching his sweet muscular ass. The quarterback's mind was racing with the events of the day. He had never felt such an adrenaline rush in his whole life. It made him feel so......alive.

Scott stepped into the running shower, placing his face directly into the warm stream. Tilting back his head, he let the steamy water flow down his chest and abs, trickling away the dirt and blood. He lathered up the soap all over his tight, muscular body. His hands glided easily across his smooth sudsy skin. He turned and leaned backwards into the shower steam. It was soothing, relaxing.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the expression on that freshman's face when he had their blades rammed into his flesh. It reminded him of the look on Marcus' face when he was about to orgasm. He had always loved that look, but the look on Ryan's face as he spilled his seed from his gut-fucking with a knife was exhilarating. Oh, how he yearned to do it again.

“Hey, Scott, you still here?” Scott was startled from his reminiscent daydream by the voice of one of the team assistant coaches. “I thought everyone had left already.” Randall had played for the college team just two years before. He had tried to go pro, but injured his knee. He returned this year as an assistant coach while he worked towards getting his master's degree.

Randall pulled off his workout shirt, revealing a finely chiseled body. He was in his mid-twenties with long dark hair and brown eyes. His body was definitely that of a man. His whistle hung down in the crevice between his solid pecs. He had some chest hair that he regularly manscaped and a well-defined happy trail from his innie navel down.

Scott watched him out of the corner of eye. Partially because he was such a fine specimen of a man and partly because he was worried Randall would catch a glimpse of the blood on his shorts, or the knife he had hidden under his pile of clothes on the bench.

Randall stripped down and stood under the next shower beside Scott. Scott had noticed Randall's fine looks before, but tried not to stare. Randall's long dark hair instantly smoothed under the running water, draping along the sides of his neck and strong broad shoulders. Randall had turned his back towards Scott, revealing his finely toned muscular back. Scott couldn't help but stare at that powerful ass, daydreaming how those muscles would ripple when he's fucking someone.

After a couple minutes lost in his fantasy, Scott was brought back to reality as Allen entered the shower room. Allen was the team manager. A sophomore at the college. He had reddish hair and a slim, but muscular build with well-defined broad shoulders. His skin was smooth and pale with light-brown freckles. He had very little body fat, so his skin set tightly against his lean muscles. He had just started body building last year and the results were starting to see through.

Allen was not a big fan of Scott. He detested how Scott was acclaimed as the star quarterback while Allen's roommate was relegated to the side lines.

He stood by the bench as he slowly undressed, piling his sweaty workout clothes next to where Scott had laid his clothes. Scott watched him carefully to make sure Alan didn't notice anything suspicious about the pile of clothes next to where he was stripping.

As Allen removed his shorts, Marcus walked in carrying a stack of clean towels. He handed Allen a fresh towel, which he set down on the bench. Marcus then set one on the bench next to Scott's clothes. He pulled out the used one from under Scott's clothes. After stacking the rest of the towels neatly on the shelf, he walked away back to the locker area.

Allen tossed his towel on the bench, but it slid off the side off onto the floor, When he bent down to pick up the towel, he noticed some blood on the shorts in Scott's pile. His initial thought was that Scott had been in a fight. Since the athletic department had a zero tolerance policy about fighting, this could be some good blackmail material. He picked up the shorts from the pile and gestured to Scott.

“What the f*** are you doing?” Scott yelled coming away from his shower. He quickly walked over to Allen who stood there in his underwear, holding Scott's shorts in his hand. He never really cared too much for Scott, nor was he impressed by Scott's alpha-male tone.

“Is this blood? You've been fighting again?” Allen threw the shorts at Scott, who stood there unsure of what to do. If he got caught fighting, he would be benched for the rest of the season. Coach Slater had already warned the team several times about this.

Allen picked his own shorts off the bench and pulled his cell phone out of the pocket.

“Dude, don't turn me in.” Scott begged, but Allen was deaf to it. Allen was one of those guys with an inferiority complex. Once he found some dirt on someone, he was going to use it to the fullest.

“F** you, football hero.” He replied with a cocky smirk on his face. Allen turned his back to Scott and began dialing coach Slater's number. Scott could see there was no way to talk him out of this.

Scott's anger grew intensely at the disrespect from this cocky piece of crap. As Allen stood with his well-formed back towards Scott. Scott pulled the knife which he had concealed under his shirt on the bench. Scott held the knife backwards in his right hand with the blade pointing out by the pinky.

He wrapped his left hand around Allen's face, covering his mouth and pulled his head backwards, causing him to arch his whole back. Allen's arms instinctively fell to his sides, thinking he was going to fall backwards. His muscular torso and abs stretched out to their max, fully exposing every feature from his pecs down to his outee navel and light red trail of hair, which led down the middle of his adonis belt to the rim of his jock strap.

With a powerful, single swing around Allen's firm body, Scott buried the knife to the hilt, deep into Allen's navel. Allen's hips jumped forward in a powerful thrust. His eyes widened as his painful yells were muffled in Scott's strong hand. Scott held him there for a few seconds feeling the strong sophomore's chest heaving and writhing in pain. He then let go of the knife, which was still protruding from Allen's fully-stretched abs.

Allen's toes curled as the sickening feeling in his stomach made him begin to go limp. He felt as if he was going to faint, but exerted every effort to resist. His back pressed firmly backwards against Scott's naked chest behind him. His hands clasped around Scott's right wrist. His breathing calmed as his muscular upper back slowly slid down Scott's chest, abs, groin and down to his thighs.

Scott stepped back, letting Allen fall completely unto his side. Allen looked down at the blade in his gut, holding it as still as he could with both hands. His legs writhed as he tried to subdue the pain in his gut. He looked up at Scott with his bright green irish eyes with a look of surrender and disbelief.

As if in slow motion, Scott felt Randall's, muscular arms wrap around his torso just below his right arm. Randall's broad, heavy shoulder, rammed into Scott's chest, bringing him off his feet into a full tackle as Randall's strong, manly body landed atop of his. The two slid a couple of feet across the wet, slippery floor. Randall held the strong, quarterback down in his powerful embrace. The two nude jocks wrestled around. Scott had a hard time getting any good hold on the slippery, soapy body of the assistant coach. Randall's manly groin was pressed firmly against Scott's. The rubbing against each other fully aroused both men. Randall pinned down Scott's right arm down, but the quarterback was able to free his left.

Scott looked for an out. They were pressed so tightly against each other in their grappling, that Scott could feel Randall's whistle pressing into each of their chests. He reached his left hand behind Randall's neck and pulled the strap of the whistle tightening it around Randall's bulky neck.

Randall, at first grinned at what seemed to be a futile move on Scott's part, but he realized, this was slowly, but effectively cutting off his breath. His face reddened as Scott's grip on the strap made it harder for him to breathe. He tried a few moves, but could not get Scott to let go of the strap. He looked over at Allen, who still lay writhing on the floor a couple of yards away, watching the two struggle against one another. Their eyes made full contact.

Allen, knew he had to help Randall. He slowly began to crawl across the floor towards the two. He wasn't sure how he was going to help, but knew he had to. When he got close enough to help, he grabbed Scott's left hand and pulled it downwards, which, at first, tightened the strap around Randall's neck, but as Scott's hand slid down to the side, this gave Randall an instant reprieve from the choke-hold. Randall immediately wrapped the fingers of one hand around Scott's throat. Scott could feel the numbing sensation in this throat as the air was being being cut off.

Allen held Scott's left hand against his smooth, bulky pec. Scott could feel the young guy's heart pounding heavily in his chest. Scott reached his hand lower, sliding it down the center Allen's smooth chest, across his rippled abs and to the handle of the knife in Allen's navel. He gripped it firmly and pulled it upwards, along the center crease in Allen's abs, slowly slashing his gut open. As the blade ripped through his abs from the navel to just below the sternum, Allen's legs gave a powerful couple of flailing kicks into the air with his toes spread wide as the blade tore through his guts.

“Huwaaagghh!!” His yell became muffled and gurgled as the blade tore further upward in his body, and blood moistened his smooth, silky lips. He let out a large spew of blood, and Allen's throbbing, handsome body gave one final shutter and stilled.

Randall had heard Allen's cry, but was too intent upon strangling the life out of this prick. He now held Scott's smooth, veiny neck with both hands and his grip was getting tighter by the second. Scott's face was starting to turn blue and his limbs began slowly numbing. Randall knew the quarterback was only seconds away from passing out.

Then a cold, sharp blade penetrated deep into his lower abs, just below and to the right of his navel. His legs stiffened and his hips pressed firmly against Scott's youthful, muscular body. He stared down into Scott's calming eyes. All of his anger seemed to flush away in a singular moment as his grasp on the young man's throat weakened.

Scott looked up into Randall's widely opened eyes. He could feel the Randall's manhood pulsating and pumping his liquid ecstasy between their naked bodies. Randall's breath became deep and slow, as if he were trying to calm away the pain. Scott gave the blade a slight twist, which caused every muscle in Randall's body to flex as he let out a bellowing holler of pain.

“Aaaaaaaaaagggghhhh!!!”

Randall's manly face tilted back and Scott stared at his massive, out-stretched pecs as they began heaving up and down with each powerful breath. Scott gave the knife another twist, which sent another shock-wave of energy through the man's hunky body. This sensation of the man's fully-flexed naked body, rubbing against him, especially as their cocks rubbed together, was really arousing to Scott. He twisted the knife again and felt Randall's manhood rub against his groin.

The feeling put Scott over the edge as he began feeling his own manhood in full salute. He tried for another twist of the blade, but Randall was already going limp, his strong, powerful body finally succumbing to the loss of blood which flowed down across Scott's smooth, muscular abs. His eyes were squinted shut from the pain and his mouth stood agape, just inches above Scott's face. Scott could feel Randall slowly dying as his body slowly lowered, back down, pressing his slightly hairy chest against his own smooth one. After one final twist, Scott tasted Randall's last breath as he sighed his last.

He laid there for a couple of seconds, feeling the warmth from Randall's body pressed firmly against his own. The exuberance of reliving the fantasy by killing two more men, filled his chest. He rolled Randall off of him next to Allen and got back under the running shower, rinsing off the blood as he stared at his two latest handsome victims.

Scott hurriedly rinsed himself off in the shower. Randall and Allen's bodies lied against one another staring blankly at the ceiling as their blood flowed in the water running across the shower floor.]]> Chapter 3 “The locker room”
Scott understood that wink old man Jensen had given him. He had seen his father do the same thing. It was a sign from a secret society that his father operated from the underground chambers beneath the church.

Despite the instruction to go home to his father, Scott made a detour back to the college. He badly needed a shower, plus he wanted to check up on Marcus, who the three of them had left behind as they chased Ryan into the woods.

Scott entered the locker room where the young runner had caught him and his buddies earlier. His clothes were still slung over the bench by his locker. Everything was just as they had left it.

His heart was still pounding in his chest. What a rush it was to ram his blade into that freshman's body and watch him writhe in pain. The adrenaline continued coursing its way through his veins.

Scott placed his knife under his pile of sweaty workout clothes and the towel that he had been using just before they had given chase Ryan into the woods. He slipped out of his shorts and kicked them under the bench. His body was caked in dirt and sweat, with blood splatter on his hands, arms and torso. His excitement from the earlier events was clearly recognizable. He had to hurry and wash the blood off his body before anyone noticed.

“That for me?” Scott immediately recognized the voice of Marcus, the team's towel boy. He had been with Scott and the other two before Ryan caught them. He was Scott's little boy toy. Marcus' deep brown eyes stared up at Scott like a puppy begging for a morsel. He was looking down at Scott's hard manhood.

The quarterback merely grinned back at the towel boy. While, yes, he wanted (needed even) to burn off some hot steam, he knew that it wouldn't be too long before the next workout group ended and the locker room would get a little more traffic. “Not now, maybe later. I'm gonna need another towel when you have the time.”

Marcus looked down like a lost little boy. Scott turned and headed into the showers. He purposefully flexed his glutes as he walked away, knowing Marcus was watching his sweet muscular ass. The quarterback's mind was racing with the events of the day. He had never felt such an adrenaline rush in his whole life. It made him feel so......alive.

Scott stepped into the running shower, placing his face directly into the warm stream. Tilting back his head, he let the steamy water flow down his chest and abs, trickling away the dirt and blood. He lathered up the soap all over his tight, muscular body. His hands glided easily across his smooth sudsy skin. He turned and leaned backwards into the shower steam. It was soothing, relaxing.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the expression on that freshman's face when he had their blades rammed into his flesh. It reminded him of the look on Marcus' face when he was about to orgasm. He had always loved that look, but the look on Ryan's face as he spilled his seed from his gut-fucking with a knife was exhilarating. Oh, how he yearned to do it again.

“Hey, Scott, you still here?” Scott was startled from his reminiscent daydream by the voice of one of the team assistant coaches. “I thought everyone had left already.” Randall had played for the college team just two years before. He had tried to go pro, but injured his knee. He returned this year as an assistant coach while he worked towards getting his master's degree.

Randall pulled off his workout shirt, revealing a finely chiseled body. He was in his mid-twenties with long dark hair and brown eyes. His body was definitely that of a man. His whistle hung down in the crevice between his solid pecs. He had some chest hair that he regularly manscaped and a well-defined happy trail from his innie navel down.

Scott watched him out of the corner of eye. Partially because he was such a fine specimen of a man and partly because he was worried Randall would catch a glimpse of the blood on his shorts, or the knife he had hidden under his pile of clothes on the bench.

Randall stripped down and stood under the next shower beside Scott. Scott had noticed Randall's fine looks before, but tried not to stare. Randall's long dark hair instantly smoothed under the running water, draping along the sides of his neck and strong broad shoulders. Randall had turned his back towards Scott, revealing his finely toned muscular back. Scott couldn't help but stare at that powerful ass, daydreaming how those muscles would ripple when he's fucking someone.

After a couple minutes lost in his fantasy, Scott was brought back to reality as Allen entered the shower room. Allen was the team manager. A sophomore at the college. He had reddish hair and a slim, but muscular build with well-defined broad shoulders. His skin was smooth and pale with light-brown freckles. He had very little body fat, so his skin set tightly against his lean muscles. He had just started body building last year and the results were starting to see through.

Allen was not a big fan of Scott. He detested how Scott was acclaimed as the star quarterback while Allen's roommate was relegated to the side lines.

He stood by the bench as he slowly undressed, piling his sweaty workout clothes next to where Scott had laid his clothes. Scott watched him carefully to make sure Alan didn't notice anything suspicious about the pile of clothes next to where he was stripping.

As Allen removed his shorts, Marcus walked in carrying a stack of clean towels. He handed Allen a fresh towel, which he set down on the bench. Marcus then set one on the bench next to Scott's clothes. He pulled out the used one from under Scott's clothes. After stacking the rest of the towels neatly on the shelf, he walked away back to the locker area.

Allen tossed his towel on the bench, but it slid off the side off onto the floor, When he bent down to pick up the towel, he noticed some blood on the shorts in Scott's pile. His initial thought was that Scott had been in a fight. Since the athletic department had a zero tolerance policy about fighting, this could be some good blackmail material. He picked up the shorts from the pile and gestured to Scott.

“What the f*** are you doing?” Scott yelled coming away from his shower. He quickly walked over to Allen who stood there in his underwear, holding Scott's shorts in his hand. He never really cared too much for Scott, nor was he impressed by Scott's alpha-male tone.

“Is this blood? You've been fighting again?” Allen threw the shorts at Scott, who stood there unsure of what to do. If he got caught fighting, he would be benched for the rest of the season. Coach Slater had already warned the team several times about this.

Allen picked his own shorts off the bench and pulled his cell phone out of the pocket.

“Dude, don't turn me in.” Scott begged, but Allen was deaf to it. Allen was one of those guys with an inferiority complex. Once he found some dirt on someone, he was going to use it to the fullest.

“F** you, football hero.” He replied with a cocky smirk on his face. Allen turned his back to Scott and began dialing coach Slater's number. Scott could see there was no way to talk him out of this.

Scott's anger grew intensely at the disrespect from this cocky piece of crap. As Allen stood with his well-formed back towards Scott. Scott pulled the knife which he had concealed under his shirt on the bench. Scott held the knife backwards in his right hand with the blade pointing out by the pinky.

He wrapped his left hand around Allen's face, covering his mouth and pulled his head backwards, causing him to arch his whole back. Allen's arms instinctively fell to his sides, thinking he was going to fall backwards. His muscular torso and abs stretched out to their max, fully exposing every feature from his pecs down to his outee navel and light red trail of hair, which led down the middle of his adonis belt to the rim of his jock strap.

With a powerful, single swing around Allen's firm body, Scott buried the knife to the hilt, deep into Allen's navel. Allen's hips jumped forward in a powerful thrust. His eyes widened as his painful yells were muffled in Scott's strong hand. Scott held him there for a few seconds feeling the strong sophomore's chest heaving and writhing in pain. He then let go of the knife, which was still protruding from Allen's fully-stretched abs.

Allen's toes curled as the sickening feeling in his stomach made him begin to go limp. He felt as if he was going to faint, but exerted every effort to resist. His back pressed firmly backwards against Scott's naked chest behind him. His hands clasped around Scott's right wrist. His breathing calmed as his muscular upper back slowly slid down Scott's chest, abs, groin and down to his thighs.

Scott stepped back, letting Allen fall completely unto his side. Allen looked down at the blade in his gut, holding it as still as he could with both hands. His legs writhed as he tried to subdue the pain in his gut. He looked up at Scott with his bright green irish eyes with a look of surrender and disbelief.

As if in slow motion, Scott felt Randall's, muscular arms wrap around his torso just below his right arm. Randall's broad, heavy shoulder, rammed into Scott's chest, bringing him off his feet into a full tackle as Randall's strong, manly body landed atop of his. The two slid a couple of feet across the wet, slippery floor. Randall held the strong, quarterback down in his powerful embrace. The two nude jocks wrestled around. Scott had a hard time getting any good hold on the slippery, soapy body of the assistant coach. Randall's manly groin was pressed firmly against Scott's. The rubbing against each other fully aroused both men. Randall pinned down Scott's right arm down, but the quarterback was able to free his left.

Scott looked for an out. They were pressed so tightly against each other in their grappling, that Scott could feel Randall's whistle pressing into each of their chests. He reached his left hand behind Randall's neck and pulled the strap of the whistle tightening it around Randall's bulky neck.

Randall, at first grinned at what seemed to be a futile move on Scott's part, but he realized, this was slowly, but effectively cutting off his breath. His face reddened as Scott's grip on the strap made it harder for him to breathe. He tried a few moves, but could not get Scott to let go of the strap. He looked over at Allen, who still lay writhing on the floor a couple of yards away, watching the two struggle against one another. Their eyes made full contact.

Allen, knew he had to help Randall. He slowly began to crawl across the floor towards the two. He wasn't sure how he was going to help, but knew he had to. When he got close enough to help, he grabbed Scott's left hand and pulled it downwards, which, at first, tightened the strap around Randall's neck, but as Scott's hand slid down to the side, this gave Randall an instant reprieve from the choke-hold. Randall immediately wrapped the fingers of one hand around Scott's throat. Scott could feel the numbing sensation in this throat as the air was being being cut off.

Allen held Scott's left hand against his smooth, bulky pec. Scott could feel the young guy's heart pounding heavily in his chest. Scott reached his hand lower, sliding it down the center Allen's smooth chest, across his rippled abs and to the handle of the knife in Allen's navel. He gripped it firmly and pulled it upwards, along the center crease in Allen's abs, slowly slashing his gut open. As the blade ripped through his abs from the navel to just below the sternum, Allen's legs gave a powerful couple of flailing kicks into the air with his toes spread wide as the blade tore through his guts.

“Huwaaagghh!!” His yell became muffled and gurgled as the blade tore further upward in his body, and blood moistened his smooth, silky lips. He let out a large spew of blood, and Allen's throbbing, handsome body gave one final shutter and stilled.

Randall had heard Allen's cry, but was too intent upon strangling the life out of this prick. He now held Scott's smooth, veiny neck with both hands and his grip was getting tighter by the second. Scott's face was starting to turn blue and his limbs began slowly numbing. Randall knew the quarterback was only seconds away from passing out.

Then a cold, sharp blade penetrated deep into his lower abs, just below and to the right of his navel. His legs stiffened and his hips pressed firmly against Scott's youthful, muscular body. He stared down into Scott's calming eyes. All of his anger seemed to flush away in a singular moment as his grasp on the young man's throat weakened.

Scott looked up into Randall's widely opened eyes. He could feel the Randall's manhood pulsating and pumping his liquid ecstasy between their naked bodies. Randall's breath became deep and slow, as if he were trying to calm away the pain. Scott gave the blade a slight twist, which caused every muscle in Randall's body to flex as he let out a bellowing holler of pain.

“Aaaaaaaaaagggghhhh!!!”

Randall's manly face tilted back and Scott stared at his massive, out-stretched pecs as they began heaving up and down with each powerful breath. Scott gave the knife another twist, which sent another shock-wave of energy through the man's hunky body. This sensation of the man's fully-flexed naked body, rubbing against him, especially as their cocks rubbed together, was really arousing to Scott. He twisted the knife again and felt Randall's manhood rub against his groin.

The feeling put Scott over the edge as he began feeling his own manhood in full salute. He tried for another twist of the blade, but Randall was already going limp, his strong, powerful body finally succumbing to the loss of blood which flowed down across Scott's smooth, muscular abs. His eyes were squinted shut from the pain and his mouth stood agape, just inches above Scott's face. Scott could feel Randall slowly dying as his body slowly lowered, back down, pressing his slightly hairy chest against his own smooth one. After one final twist, Scott tasted Randall's last breath as he sighed his last.

He laid there for a couple of seconds, feeling the warmth from Randall's body pressed firmly against his own. The exuberance of reliving the fantasy by killing two more men, filled his chest. He rolled Randall off of him next to Allen and got back under the running shower, rinsing off the blood as he stared at his two latest handsome victims.

Scott hurriedly rinsed himself off in the shower. Randall and Allen's bodies lied against one another staring blankly at the ceiling as their blood flowed in the water running across the shower floor.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3701 Sun, 22 Dec 2019 19:22:37 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3701 Chapter 2 “Getting Caught Again” Chad had abandoned his two friends to do the dirty work of disposing of Ryan's body. Mike had found an old fence post that he was using to soften the ground so that he could scoop away the dirt with his hands until Scott returned with a shovel the he had “borrowed” from old man Jensen's farm about a half mile away.

Scott was clearly winded from the jog down to the farm. He pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. His bare chest was now beading with sweat as he panted from the run. Mike had only dug down about 6 inches in the time it took Scott to make the trip. But now that he had a shovel, he knew he could make much better timing in digging the hole.

The pair made haste to start digging. The two strong football players worked as a team, Mike breaking up the ground with the post as Scott scooped it out of the hole. The warm afternoon sun beat down upon their sweaty backs as the labored to get the hole at least 6 feet deep. Mike would occassionally look over to where Ryan's body lay against the base of the tree, almost as if he were merely resting.

It took some time, but they finally reached about five feet and the two were already exhausted from the work. They stopped and leaned their backs against the side of the hole. The cool dirt provided some relief from the heat of the afternoon. Sweat continued pouring down their brows as they leaned back, closing their eyes to the sun.

The two rested there, panting from the hard work. “I think that's deep enough,” Scott said, breathing heavily from the workout. Both of them were exhausted. They knew they really should go deeper, but the work was too tiring to keep up. Mike put one arm around his friend's shoulder. “I think you're right.”

“No, it's not.” The voice of old man Jensen startled the two young men and quickly brought them from their exhausted state. They were now wide awake and aware.

Old man Jensen stood on the side of the grave, looking down at the two with a wiry look in his eyes, leaning against his pitchfork. He had apparently been watching the two for at least a couple of minutes before they noticed him. “The hole needs to be at least seven feet to hide that body. If you leave it that shallow, then you gotta worry about some coyote digging it up.”

The two guys, stared up wide-eyed at the old farmer, who held out a canteen. Scott took it from the old man and took a good drink. The cool water was very refreshing for his tired body. He handed the canteen to Mike and looked back at Mr. Jensen. “Why would you help us?” He asked the old farmer.

“That boy there is one of them Wenderleys from the city. His uncle is a kingpin for the mob. We don't need that sort of trouble here.” The old man gave Scott a sly wink as Mike handed him back his canteen.

Old man Jensen watched as Scott and Mike started working on the hole. After about five more minutes of heavy digging, Scott had to stop again to catch his breathe. His day's workout, followed by the jog to Jensen's farm, now a few hours of digging had taken its toll on him physically.

“Gotta go deeper, there.” Old man Jensen was quite the motivator for the two, but Scott just couldnt push himself anymore.

“I can't, I'm too exhausted,” Scott let out between breaths. “The ground's getting harder the deeper we go.” Mike took the shovel from Scott and started shoveling more dirt out of the hole. Though he was tired, Mike was built like a work-horse. No one was sure if he had a lot of stamina, or was just too stubborn to quit.

“Tell, you what, boy, since you just came from a long jog to and from my place, you go home to your pa and I'll help Mike here finish the hole.”

Scott looked apprehensive. Why would old man Jensen help them? He wondered, but Mike gave him a reassuring nod and pat on the shoulder.

Scott climbed out of the hole and gave the old farmer a look of uncertainty. The thin old man had clearly lived a rugged farmer's life, as Scott could see each strand of muscle peeking out opened buttons of the man's thin flannel shirt.

The farmer gave Scott a nod and began using his pitchfork to soften the ground while Mike grabbed the shovel and started removing the soil. After about thirty minutes more of digging, they finally reached a depth that was acceptable to both of them, Mike boosted the old man out. Some dirt fell back in as the old man got out of the hole, so Mike began digging that dirt back out while the old farmer picked up Ryan's body and brought it over to the hole.

Mike looked up at Ryan's limp body in the farmer's arms. He leaned the shovel to the side and reached up. The old man handed the body down to him and Mike slowly caressed his classmate's smooth, slender body in his arms. He hugged the body close, feeling the soft skin against his own as he turned around in the hole. He laid Ryan's body down gently and carefully. A single tear ran quietly down his cheek as he rubbed Ryan's hair from his forehead one last time.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you wanted to f** that boy,” the old farmer said with a hollow laugh.

Mike picked up the shovel and tossed it to the dirt pile and held his hand out to farmer Jensen to pull him out of the hole, but found himself instead, staring down the barrel of Jensen's pistol.

“Oh, shit, no.” Mike muttered as he stumbled backwards over Ryan's body.

“You know, killin's a sin, boy.” the farmer said with a grin.

Mike cowered down with one hand out and the other hand around his head. “Please, we didn't mean to... I.... I mean.... it wasn't me. Chad stabbed him... then Scott..”

“Stop your fussin, ya damned pansy.” The old man's voice was cold and harsh. “I ain't gonna shoot ya.” With that, he began pulling the trigger, which only resulted in a loud clicking sound. The initial sound of the clicking made Mike scrunch together in fear, but the sound of the empty gun quickly eased his heightened anxiety. He began to relax as he heard the old man laughing at him.

Mike, embarrassed, stood back up. “Ha, ha. Very funny, now help me out of this hole.” He said, with one hand out.

“Sure thing.” The old man holstered his pistol, grabbed Mike's hand and pulled him up out of the hole. Mike was impressed by the old man's strength. The old man seemed to have exerted very little effort in pulling him up.

Once back on solid ground, Mike tried letting go of Jensen's hand, but the old farmer held a tight grip. That's when Mike noticed him wielding a hunting knife in the other hand. With a fast jerk, the farmer yanked the linebacker straight towards him Mike felt the cold steel of the knife thrust into his deep navel. The sides of the blade were cold at first against the inside of his navel, but it warmed as blood began slowly seeping out around the blade. Mike let out a gasp as he felt the farmer's fist ram into the center of his gut.

Mike's eyes widened in shock of what had just happened. He tried to push the old farmer away, but the old man managed to pull out the blade and ram it right back in. A shocking pain racing throughout the lineman's body and his let out a shrill yell in pain. The old man let go of Mike's hand and wrapped his arm around Mike's broad shoulders, holding him in place, letting the boy feel the blade as he jabbed him several times in his gut.

“No... no.. please,” Mike begged, his muscular chest shaking from fear and pain. His brown eyes began flooding with tears as he pleaded.

“Now you're cryin' like a pansy again. You little pussy.” The farmer followed up his mocking by pulling out the blade and licking it while gazing into the young man's eyes. Mike's wide eyes stared back in shocking disbelief. “Now, I gotta go kill that Chad fella. We can't have youngsters from out of town murdered here. That's just invitin' trouble.”

The old man shoved Mike back, sheathed his knife then turned to walk away. Mike's thoughts turned immediately to Scott and Chad and what old man Jensen would do to them. Mike knew he was the only one who could stop the old man. He had spent his days on the football field defending those two and was not about to let them get killed. Mike's pain seemed to subside as his anger began swelling within him. He quietly picked up the shovel and made a charge at the old man, but the old man ducked down under the swing of the shovel and rammed his pitchfork all the way through Mike's gut.

“Haaaauuuuugghhhhh”

Mike stood there stunned with the shovel still over his head. His eyes wide and his mouth agape. He looked down and watched his husky torso heaving for breath with the the prongs of the pitchfork entirely embedded in his gut. He felt a throbbing orgasm soaking the inside of his shorts. With each shaky breath, he could feel the rusted prongs protruding all the way through him and out his back. The pain was unbearable, but the shock kept him from crying out.

Old man Jensen grabbed the shovel out of the boy's hands and tossed it down on the ground. Mike lowered his hands to his sides and turned his gaze back up into the old farmer's squinty eyes. With a powerful yank, the farmer ripped the pitchfork out of Mike's gut causing Mike to stumble a couple steps forward, and stand there, swaying. Feeling a sickening in his stomach, he lowered down to his knees. He could feel the blood and semen seeping together around his thighs.

With a heavy boot to his chest, the lineman stumbled backwards, falling with a hard thud into the grave where they had dropped Ryan's body. He was slightly dazed, but managed to curl onto his side, and wrap his arms around his beefy gut.

Mike laid in the hole next to Ryan's still warm body. He stared into Ryan's blank eyes, knowing he was on his way to joining him. He cradled his beefy arms around his gut, trying hard to bare with the excruciating pain that was rippling throughout his whole body. He looked up and saw old man Jensen standing over the hole with the pitchfork raised, poised for another strike.
When the old man rammed the prongs down at Mike's chest, the lineman quickly grabbed Ryan's body and held it over him, shielding himself from the assault. The pitchfork sank into the dead boy's back. This last fight merely amused the old farmer as he pressed down harder and harder, sinking the prongs deeper into Ryan's corpse until the tips stuck out of the other other side of dead boy's body. He knew the college boy couldn't hold out very long.

The prongs protruded about four inches out of the center of Ryan's chest. Ryan's still warm blood oozed and dripped over the lineman's body. Mike could see Ryan's glossy eyes staring down at him. The pressure from the pitchfork gave some animation to the handsome young man's body and it was almost as if it were Ryan himself threatening to impale Mike's chest with the protruding prongs.


With a final thrust downward, Ryan's body slipped out of the lineman's grasp. Ryan's handsome bare chest slammed squarely against Mike's and the prong tips sank into his beefy pecs. Mike's thick, hairy leg instinctively kicked up and wrapped around Ryan's calves as the prongs penetrated deeply into his lungs and heart as his manhood let out a second round of his final juices as his hips jumped up. He wrapped his strong arms around the young man's smooth, motionless body trying to seek some comfort from the fear and pain. Blood began flowing from Mike's mouth as he let out a a final heave and his brown eyes gazed blankly at the old farmer.

The old farmer buried the two bodies together, leaving only the tip of the pitchfork handle sticking out of the ground, marking the grave.]]> Chapter 2 “Getting Caught Again” Chad had abandoned his two friends to do the dirty work of disposing of Ryan's body. Mike had found an old fence post that he was using to soften the ground so that he could scoop away the dirt with his hands until Scott returned with a shovel the he had “borrowed” from old man Jensen's farm about a half mile away.

Scott was clearly winded from the jog down to the farm. He pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. His bare chest was now beading with sweat as he panted from the run. Mike had only dug down about 6 inches in the time it took Scott to make the trip. But now that he had a shovel, he knew he could make much better timing in digging the hole.

The pair made haste to start digging. The two strong football players worked as a team, Mike breaking up the ground with the post as Scott scooped it out of the hole. The warm afternoon sun beat down upon their sweaty backs as the labored to get the hole at least 6 feet deep. Mike would occassionally look over to where Ryan's body lay against the base of the tree, almost as if he were merely resting.

It took some time, but they finally reached about five feet and the two were already exhausted from the work. They stopped and leaned their backs against the side of the hole. The cool dirt provided some relief from the heat of the afternoon. Sweat continued pouring down their brows as they leaned back, closing their eyes to the sun.

The two rested there, panting from the hard work. “I think that's deep enough,” Scott said, breathing heavily from the workout. Both of them were exhausted. They knew they really should go deeper, but the work was too tiring to keep up. Mike put one arm around his friend's shoulder. “I think you're right.”

“No, it's not.” The voice of old man Jensen startled the two young men and quickly brought them from their exhausted state. They were now wide awake and aware.

Old man Jensen stood on the side of the grave, looking down at the two with a wiry look in his eyes, leaning against his pitchfork. He had apparently been watching the two for at least a couple of minutes before they noticed him. “The hole needs to be at least seven feet to hide that body. If you leave it that shallow, then you gotta worry about some coyote digging it up.”

The two guys, stared up wide-eyed at the old farmer, who held out a canteen. Scott took it from the old man and took a good drink. The cool water was very refreshing for his tired body. He handed the canteen to Mike and looked back at Mr. Jensen. “Why would you help us?” He asked the old farmer.

“That boy there is one of them Wenderleys from the city. His uncle is a kingpin for the mob. We don't need that sort of trouble here.” The old man gave Scott a sly wink as Mike handed him back his canteen.

Old man Jensen watched as Scott and Mike started working on the hole. After about five more minutes of heavy digging, Scott had to stop again to catch his breathe. His day's workout, followed by the jog to Jensen's farm, now a few hours of digging had taken its toll on him physically.

“Gotta go deeper, there.” Old man Jensen was quite the motivator for the two, but Scott just couldnt push himself anymore.

“I can't, I'm too exhausted,” Scott let out between breaths. “The ground's getting harder the deeper we go.” Mike took the shovel from Scott and started shoveling more dirt out of the hole. Though he was tired, Mike was built like a work-horse. No one was sure if he had a lot of stamina, or was just too stubborn to quit.

“Tell, you what, boy, since you just came from a long jog to and from my place, you go home to your pa and I'll help Mike here finish the hole.”

Scott looked apprehensive. Why would old man Jensen help them? He wondered, but Mike gave him a reassuring nod and pat on the shoulder.

Scott climbed out of the hole and gave the old farmer a look of uncertainty. The thin old man had clearly lived a rugged farmer's life, as Scott could see each strand of muscle peeking out opened buttons of the man's thin flannel shirt.

The farmer gave Scott a nod and began using his pitchfork to soften the ground while Mike grabbed the shovel and started removing the soil. After about thirty minutes more of digging, they finally reached a depth that was acceptable to both of them, Mike boosted the old man out. Some dirt fell back in as the old man got out of the hole, so Mike began digging that dirt back out while the old farmer picked up Ryan's body and brought it over to the hole.

Mike looked up at Ryan's limp body in the farmer's arms. He leaned the shovel to the side and reached up. The old man handed the body down to him and Mike slowly caressed his classmate's smooth, slender body in his arms. He hugged the body close, feeling the soft skin against his own as he turned around in the hole. He laid Ryan's body down gently and carefully. A single tear ran quietly down his cheek as he rubbed Ryan's hair from his forehead one last time.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you wanted to f** that boy,” the old farmer said with a hollow laugh.

Mike picked up the shovel and tossed it to the dirt pile and held his hand out to farmer Jensen to pull him out of the hole, but found himself instead, staring down the barrel of Jensen's pistol.

“Oh, shit, no.” Mike muttered as he stumbled backwards over Ryan's body.

“You know, killin's a sin, boy.” the farmer said with a grin.

Mike cowered down with one hand out and the other hand around his head. “Please, we didn't mean to... I.... I mean.... it wasn't me. Chad stabbed him... then Scott..”

“Stop your fussin, ya damned pansy.” The old man's voice was cold and harsh. “I ain't gonna shoot ya.” With that, he began pulling the trigger, which only resulted in a loud clicking sound. The initial sound of the clicking made Mike scrunch together in fear, but the sound of the empty gun quickly eased his heightened anxiety. He began to relax as he heard the old man laughing at him.

Mike, embarrassed, stood back up. “Ha, ha. Very funny, now help me out of this hole.” He said, with one hand out.

“Sure thing.” The old man holstered his pistol, grabbed Mike's hand and pulled him up out of the hole. Mike was impressed by the old man's strength. The old man seemed to have exerted very little effort in pulling him up.

Once back on solid ground, Mike tried letting go of Jensen's hand, but the old farmer held a tight grip. That's when Mike noticed him wielding a hunting knife in the other hand. With a fast jerk, the farmer yanked the linebacker straight towards him Mike felt the cold steel of the knife thrust into his deep navel. The sides of the blade were cold at first against the inside of his navel, but it warmed as blood began slowly seeping out around the blade. Mike let out a gasp as he felt the farmer's fist ram into the center of his gut.

Mike's eyes widened in shock of what had just happened. He tried to push the old farmer away, but the old man managed to pull out the blade and ram it right back in. A shocking pain racing throughout the lineman's body and his let out a shrill yell in pain. The old man let go of Mike's hand and wrapped his arm around Mike's broad shoulders, holding him in place, letting the boy feel the blade as he jabbed him several times in his gut.

“No... no.. please,” Mike begged, his muscular chest shaking from fear and pain. His brown eyes began flooding with tears as he pleaded.

“Now you're cryin' like a pansy again. You little pussy.” The farmer followed up his mocking by pulling out the blade and licking it while gazing into the young man's eyes. Mike's wide eyes stared back in shocking disbelief. “Now, I gotta go kill that Chad fella. We can't have youngsters from out of town murdered here. That's just invitin' trouble.”

The old man shoved Mike back, sheathed his knife then turned to walk away. Mike's thoughts turned immediately to Scott and Chad and what old man Jensen would do to them. Mike knew he was the only one who could stop the old man. He had spent his days on the football field defending those two and was not about to let them get killed. Mike's pain seemed to subside as his anger began swelling within him. He quietly picked up the shovel and made a charge at the old man, but the old man ducked down under the swing of the shovel and rammed his pitchfork all the way through Mike's gut.

“Haaaauuuuugghhhhh”

Mike stood there stunned with the shovel still over his head. His eyes wide and his mouth agape. He looked down and watched his husky torso heaving for breath with the the prongs of the pitchfork entirely embedded in his gut. He felt a throbbing orgasm soaking the inside of his shorts. With each shaky breath, he could feel the rusted prongs protruding all the way through him and out his back. The pain was unbearable, but the shock kept him from crying out.

Old man Jensen grabbed the shovel out of the boy's hands and tossed it down on the ground. Mike lowered his hands to his sides and turned his gaze back up into the old farmer's squinty eyes. With a powerful yank, the farmer ripped the pitchfork out of Mike's gut causing Mike to stumble a couple steps forward, and stand there, swaying. Feeling a sickening in his stomach, he lowered down to his knees. He could feel the blood and semen seeping together around his thighs.

With a heavy boot to his chest, the lineman stumbled backwards, falling with a hard thud into the grave where they had dropped Ryan's body. He was slightly dazed, but managed to curl onto his side, and wrap his arms around his beefy gut.

Mike laid in the hole next to Ryan's still warm body. He stared into Ryan's blank eyes, knowing he was on his way to joining him. He cradled his beefy arms around his gut, trying hard to bare with the excruciating pain that was rippling throughout his whole body. He looked up and saw old man Jensen standing over the hole with the pitchfork raised, poised for another strike.
When the old man rammed the prongs down at Mike's chest, the lineman quickly grabbed Ryan's body and held it over him, shielding himself from the assault. The pitchfork sank into the dead boy's back. This last fight merely amused the old farmer as he pressed down harder and harder, sinking the prongs deeper into Ryan's corpse until the tips stuck out of the other other side of dead boy's body. He knew the college boy couldn't hold out very long.

The prongs protruded about four inches out of the center of Ryan's chest. Ryan's still warm blood oozed and dripped over the lineman's body. Mike could see Ryan's glossy eyes staring down at him. The pressure from the pitchfork gave some animation to the handsome young man's body and it was almost as if it were Ryan himself threatening to impale Mike's chest with the protruding prongs.


With a final thrust downward, Ryan's body slipped out of the lineman's grasp. Ryan's handsome bare chest slammed squarely against Mike's and the prong tips sank into his beefy pecs. Mike's thick, hairy leg instinctively kicked up and wrapped around Ryan's calves as the prongs penetrated deeply into his lungs and heart as his manhood let out a second round of his final juices as his hips jumped up. He wrapped his strong arms around the young man's smooth, motionless body trying to seek some comfort from the fear and pain. Blood began flowing from Mike's mouth as he let out a a final heave and his brown eyes gazed blankly at the old farmer.

The old farmer buried the two bodies together, leaving only the tip of the pitchfork handle sticking out of the ground, marking the grave.]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3650 Tue, 10 Dec 2019 16:36:18 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=3650 Fratricide

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


He never betrayed his frat again...........]]> Fratricide

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


He never betrayed his frat again...........]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=1641 Tue, 10 Sep 2019 22:33:43 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=1641 Chapter 1 “Getting caught”

The young freshman ran like the wind into the canyon behind the small college. His heart raced as he sprinted along the creekbed and deeper into the woods. There was no cell phone reception here, so he knew he had to hide out before he could start sharing the pictures he had just snapped in the men's locker room.

He could hear the anger yelling of the three football players chasing after him. He was still a little ways ahead, but they were relentless in their pursuit. They were not about to give up without a fight.

He was on an adrenaline high, but knew he couldn't run forever. He rounded a bend and found hid himself in some underbrush. It was thick enough that he was sure they wouldn't be able to find him. That is, until he noticed he was still wearing a red shirt. He peeled off the sweat-drenched tank top and hid it in the dirt, so the bright color couldn't give away his location.

Ryan had a firm, lean swimmers build from all the years he spent swimming around his uncle's pool back in the city. He attended the college on both a swimming and track scholarship. Not that he needed the extra money. His family was one of the wealthiest (and most corrupt) in the state.

He wiped the sand off his hands on his black, silky running shorts that he had worn while jogging around the gym. His smooth, muscular chest was heaving from the long run from the Athletic building on campus. He had gone just over a mile, but knew the three football players couldn't be far behind.

He thumbed through the pictures on his phone. He just couldn't believe it. Jackpot. The scandal of the semester, three star football players having gay sex in the lockerroom. Ryan was stoked. He just couldn't wait to put this out there for everyone to see.

He always had a dislike for football players. Their bulky, muscular bodies being worshipped like they were demigods. He sneered at the mere thought.

Ryan knew his slim, tight lean body was far better and resented how people viewed brain-dead football players as athletes. It took far better endurance and strength to run a marathon than it did to run a hundred yards carrying a ball.

He heard some steps rounding the bend. Peering out through the branches, he spotted Scott, the team's senior quarterback, slowly walking through the tall grass along the creek.

Scott had only enough time to pull on a pair of shorts and slip into his flipflops before he had started chasing Ryan, so, his clearly-defined muscular chest and abs were glistening in the sunlight. His shirtless torso was nearly twice the size of Ryan’s with well-formed pecs and a muscular gut.

Ryan may have been envious of most football players, but Scott had such a charisma about him that Ryan couldn't help but stare at the quarterback's chest as the sweat slowly ran down and dripped from his pecs,

Then, much closer to this side of the creek, he saw Mike, a large defensive lineman, wading bare-foot through the creek just a few feet away from him. Mike was a brawny, well-built guy, who had obviously spent several hours each day in the gym. His large shoulders and chest were clearly discernible through his tight black tank-top. He stopped for a moment and stared into the undergrowth where Ryan was hiding. Ryan stayed still, holding his breath, fearful that Mike would notice any movement in the brush. He took a couple of steps closer to Ryan, until he was just a three feet away.

“Can you see him?” Scott called out to Mike.

Mike turned away from the brush where Ryan was hiding. All Ryan could see of him now was the back of his black shorts and bulging calves. The water from the creek had moistened the hair on his legs as it trickled back down. Ryan covered his mouth, so that his heavy breathing would not give him away.

“Not yet. But he couldn't have gotten too far.” Mike replied back.

Just then, Ryan felt a quick jerk on his leg as he was pulled out of the bush from behind. “Got you now, mother f***er.”

Ryan immediately recognized the voice of Chad, who was probably the cockiest person he had ever known, pulling him face-down out from the underbrush.

Once he was in the clearing, Chad let go of the young freshman's leg. Ryan rolled over and gave him a quick kick to the face, knocking the shorter guy backwards on his rear.
Chad quickly grabbed his nose to assess the damage. Not broken, but his cheek was still pretty sore.

As Ryan got up to run, he felt Mike's huge muscular arms wrap around his arms and chest as he was tackled him back down to the ground, knocking the shoes off his feet. Ryan kept trying to squirm his way free from Mike's firm body hold. He could feel Mike's muscular chest heaving against his back and the warmth of his every breath on the back of his neck. Ryan tried to wrestle himself free, but it was no use. Mike was too much of a beast to break free from.

All the while, Mike was enjoying the younger guy's body struggling in his grasp. The smell of Ryan's sweaty hair and the sensation of Ryan's muscles flexing in his arms as he struggled to free himself. Ryan's back rubbed up against Mike's large, muscular pecs. Mike could feel the runner's soft skin sliding smoothly against his chest. This was extremely arousing the large lineman, which made him even more determined to not let go of the boy.

Even when the younger guy settled down, Mike could feel the boy's chest and abs heaving up and down as he tried to catch breath. He wrappend his legs around the boy just so he could feel more of his body against his own. Oh, how he wished this could go on forever.

By the time Scott had gotten over to where they were, Chad was finally getting back up on his feet. Obviously Ryan's kick proved powerful, as Chad had a mark over his left eye that was bleeding slightly. Chad pulled up the bottom of his white sleeveless shirt and dabbed at the scrape, revealing his lean, abs along with his dirty blonde, furry man-trail of hair between his shallow navel and the low waistline of his cut-off jeans. Chad's build was similar to Ryan's, except Chad was shorter and had broader shoulders.

The two approached Ryan who again began squirming in Mike's grasp temporarily freeing his legs, causing the lineman to wrap his large, beefy legs around Ryan's slender thighs. Scott knelt down to where he could see Ryan's face. “Did you really think you could get away from us?”

Ryan knew he was caught, he knew his strength was nothing compared to the three football players in front of him. He knew he had to try to outsmart them. After all, they were football players and every knows football players aren't very smart. All he had to do was lie his way out of this.

“Let me go. I swear, I didn't see anything.” Ryan continued to insist as he sat up in Mike's manly embrace. His voice sounded more annoyed than anything and so clearly insincere that even those 'dumb' football players could recognize his act of superiority.

All of them knew he had seen what they were doing in the locker room showers and that was one secret that they could never let get out in this small of a town. Not to mention, he had been taking video of it on his camera.

“You're a d*** liar.” Chad landed a powerful kick straight into Ryan's abs, causing them to flex their fullest as he let out a heavy gasp. Chad was clearly the most unstable of the lot. He was the shortest of the group, but had well-defined features that showed through the arm long-cut sides of his sleeveless shirt.

Mike could feel Ryan's body press even harder against him as the boy tried to roll over, reeling from the kick he had just received. Mike held him in a spooning position as Ryan laid sobbing in his arms. Mike sat up and leaned his back against a tree, cradling Ryan in more of a seated position. Ryan sat there defeated, with the back of his head resting against the lineman's broad chest.

“I swear, I didn't see what you were doing.” Ryan's voice wasn't as arrogant as before. Even after his last attempt failed, he continued thinking he could outsmart these guys. After all, he was raised in an affluent neighborhood and these guys were just a few dumb, small-town rednecks who had never left this town. Besides, after what he had seen these three doing in the locker room, he knew they were a bunch of queers, and he was much better than that.

Even as he sat there captive in Mike's powerful arms, he thought he could out-smart these three small-town rednecks. Another quick blow to his gut from Chad’s swift kick quickly made him realize otherwise.

“Bullsh*t! I’ll cut that lying tongue right out of your f***ing, pretty-boy mouth.” Chad’s voice was enraged. Chad pulled out a 6-inch folding knife from his back pocket. Ryan looked over at Scott, hoping that he would get him out of this mess.

“Scott, I swear, I didn’t see.”

Scott was the son of the local preacher and star quarterback for the town. Ryan had met him the previous Sunday at church. Scott knelt down to look at Ryan face-to-face. “Do you really expect us to believe that?” Scott said in a calm, soothing voice as he lightly brushed Ryan's black, sweaty bangs from his forehead. Ryan closed his eyes at the sensation of the quarterback's soft and gentle touch.

Scott noticed this and knew how to work out this situation and continued brushing Ryan's hair away with his fingers, “You know, we could work something out.” Ryan stared at Scott's handsome face. This guy had such charisma that the younger freshman was easily mesmerized by him.

Scott's soothing voice was interrupted by Chad's. “Let's cut the lying tongue right out of this f**er's mouth.”

Ryan peered over Scott's shoulder, which was shining in the sunlight from perspiration and saw Chad standing there with a lock-blade in his hand. The redneck's well-built, yet unkept appearance was visually appealing, but his menacing, arrogant demeanor was totally repulsive to the city boy. There was nothing Ryan hated more than to have someone lesser than him try to act as if he were better.

Chad pointed the knife straight towards him. This sent an instant shiver through Ryan, who then, looked straight into Scott's peaceful green eyes. “I'm sorry, I swear I didn't see anything. I promise.”

Scott slowly ran his hand down Ryan's cheek and neck and began rubbing his fingers side-to-side across Ryan's chest, who again, closed his eyes at the sensation of his touch. “We know you saw us. The question is, what now?” Scott could tell that his voice had a calming effect on Ryan, who had again opened his eyes and was gazing into his. Scott watched Ryan's eyes closely as he used his other hand to rub his fingers across his own chiseled abs. Sure enough, Ryan's gaze left his as he glanced, longingly at the quarterback's eight-pack. Scott grinned at the runner. He knew exactly how to settle this.

Ryan noticed Scott's grin and quickly glanced away from his abs. He wasn't sure if Scott had caught him staring at his midsection, or if the quarterback was smiling because he had caught him in the lie. Either way, it was time for a new tactic.

“Okay, I did see you guys. I'm sorry. But I promise I won't tell.” His breath was becoming heavier from fear and his words were starting to sound desperate.

At this, Chad let out a rough laugh.

Mike calmly replied in Ryan's ear, “Oh yeah, well, how do we know that?” Ryan could feel the warmth from Mike's breath across the side of his head.

“Yeah. You done lied to us a couple of times. You little sh**.” Chad chimed in. Turning to Scott, he said, “If we gut this f**ker now, no one will ever find out.” At this, he knelt down on the other side from Scott and handed him an 8-inch hunting knife. Scott just held it calmly in his hand while Chad began rubbing his blade up and down the bumps in Ryan's abs, which shivered and flexed when touched by the cold steel.

Chad noticed the goosebumps raising up on Ryan's lean body. Seeing someone so arrogant as this city-boy starting to act in submission was a complete turn-on for this back-woods boy. He placed the tip of the blade against Ryan's navel and gave a soft twist, watching the small hairs on the runner's body ripple to an upright position.

Mike, too could feel the goosebumps spread their way across the boy's smooth body that was pressed so firmly against his own. It was clear that all three of the football players wanted the same thing. And it was quite possible that Ryan wanted it as well. Afterall, he had been watching them for sometime before Chad noticed him with filming them.

“Please, Please,” Ryan said in a quivering whisper. “I promise I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't lie about that. Please.” This time his voice was overly pathetic making it even less believable.

“Yeah?, You lied to us already, why would we trust you now?” Chad retorted. He drew his knife back as if he was going to ram it into Ryan's throat, but only laughed as the boy began to squirm, trying to flinch away.

“You’re just gonna have to believe me.” the lean boy said, trying to regain his self-dignity and looking up between Chad and Scott. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” Although, he was clearly out-numbered, the cocky city-boy was continuing to try his old tricks.

Recognizing a chance to quell the situation, Scott replied, “I’ll tell you what. There is one way we’ll know you won’t tell. How about you join us….for just one time?” Scott’s words were calm and reassuring as he drew nearer to Ryan. He was clearly trying to help Ryan out of this mess. Ryan shuddered as Scott's fingers rubbed over his nipples.

“No, no. I can't.” Ryan had been raised to hate homosexuality by his ardently Catholic uncle, but the sensation of this, the most popular guy not only in school but in town, touching him, was really arousing. Their faces were so close, that Ryan could feel the warmth of Scott's breath.

Scott ignored Ryan's plea and continued circling his middle finger around his nipple. Ryan responded verbally with another “No,” but arched his back as he brought in a deep breath. He could now taste the warmth of Scott's breath as he inhaled.

Mike loosened his grasp and rubbed his hands up and down Ryan's sides. “Just try it. You won't have to worry about us telling anyone. Besides, it would be so f**king hot. I guarantee you'll have the best orgasm ever.”

“This would be the only way we'll know for sure you won't tell anyone. Especially my dad.” Ryan knew exactly who Scott was talking about. Scott's dad was the local preacher where Ryan had been attending church. He had asked Ryan to serve as an usher one time.

Ryan's soft brown eyes, gazed up into Scott's. The sensation running through his body from Scott and Mike's hands sliding over his smooth skin was all too tempting. He knew he couldn't say no. Even without the knife, he knew he couldn't turn down this offer from him.

Just as he was about to relent, Chad leaned forward and began flicking one of Ryan's man-nips with his tongue. “That's right, queer boy. I'm gonna f**k the h** out of ya. Till you scream like a choir boy. I can’t wait to feel you squirm in my arms.” Chad said, taking off his shirt. He knelt down next to Ryan and licked his neck.

While the sensation of Chad's tongue was arousing, Ryan was appalled by being called queer boy, especially by some dumb-ass hillbilly who knew nothing about him. Though he was willing to do this with Scott, who was so charismatic, and even the quiet Mike, he was repulsed by this dirty-ass hick.

But before he could reply, Chad already placed one hand on his crotch. “Check this out. The faggot is already hard for us.” Ryan's anger boiled within him. Scott was one thing, but that prick was something else. He was not about to play b**ch to Chad and definitely not going to allow that bastard to call him a faggot.

He began struggling wildly again. “No F****ing way. I’m not gay like you, you stupid f**ker. Get the f** off me, you faggots.” Another well-placed kick to Chad's chest sent him backwards into the bushes.

As Scott got up to help Chad, Ryan rammed his head backwards into Mike's face, causing him to quickly let go. Ryan rolled to the side and got up and started to run, but Mike already had his arm and swung him backwards into the tree. Ryan's back arched as he felt the his bare back slam against the rough bark.

Mike then pulled Ryan to him and placed the boy in a full-nelson, exposing the boy's lean torso to whatever blows may come.

Chad got up, totally pissed off. Chad pulled a bowie knife from his back pocket and pointed it at Ryan. “Then, there’s only one way to guarantee you’ll keep your damned mouth shut.”

Scott stepped between them. He plead with the new kid one last time. “Come on, man. I can’t have my dad and the rest of the town knowing about this. If you do this just one time with us, we’ll know you won’t tell. And we won’t bother you again.”

Ryan's heart was racing in anger at Chad, but Scott's soft voice made him again feel reassured, he had actually felt some jealousy when he had caught Scott with the other two, but he knew that if he admitted this, then they might think that he was just like them. He didn’t like Chad very much and just saw him as a dumb hick. His impression of Mike wasn't much better, but at least Mike wasn't cocky and kinda cute in his boyish way. Mike slowly began releasing his hold on Ryan as the boy seemed to finally settle down.

“Okay, I'll do it.” Ryan said, lowering his head. He had to make sure they were convinced he was only doing this because he was forced to. He didn't want them to think he was some homo like them.

His mind was racing, trying to think of how to accomplish this, when Chad wrapped his arms around him and began rubbing his crotch against his. “That's right, faggy city-boy, your gonna feel this hard cock ramming you from the inside.”

This was more of Chad than he could take. “Get the hell away from me you f***ing faggots,” Ryan said as he shoved Chad into Scott and tried to make a run for it. He had only gotten a few feet when Scott had him tackled to the ground. Getting back onto his feet, he felt his arm squeezed in Mike’s beefy grasp. Mike flung him around and sent him backwards into the trunk of a willow tree.

Mike grabbed the folding knife that Chad had dropped earlier and came at him with a swift jab aimed at Ryan‘s chest. Ryan instinctively deflected the beefy lineman‘s hand and diverted the blow into the tree, just off to his left side. It seemed those years of karate lessons had paid off.

Chad came next trying to stab him the same way, but Ryan was able to deflect his blow off to his right. Ryan struggled to hold onto their arms as they tried to pull their blades out of the tree. He stopped struggling once he felt the cold steel of a third blade rubbing up and down his abs.

“I’ll give you a final chance,” Scott said as he ran his blade from Ryan’s navel to his midchest and back again. He then toyed with the boy who was now pinned against the tree by sticking the tip into his navel and twisting back and forth. Ryan squirmed at the tickling sensation, which quickly caught Scott’s attention.

“Come on. I think you’ll like it.” the quarterback said, as he pinched one of Ryan’s nipples. From the growing bulge in Ryan’s sweats, he could tell he was getting somewhere.

Chad reached his free hand and placed it in Ryan’s groin. “Wow, he’s hard already. He’s really gonna enjoy this.”

Annoyed by his straight-forwardness, Ryan shoved his hand away. “Get your f***ing hands off of me you faggot.”

Mike grabbed Ryan’s free arm and slammed him back into the tree, causing him to arch his gut forward. He, then felt a quick blow from Scott’s fist into his gut, immediately followed by a sharp pain. His eyes widened as he looked down to see Scott’s blade buried in deep in his navel with blood slowly trickling out. Ryan leaned forward and tightened his abs around the blade, which seemed to ease the pain slightly.

He gasped at the feel of the cole steel buried in his guts. His face went pale as he stared at Scott's hand, pressing the handle of the knife flush against his abs.

Scott leaned forward pressing his chest against Ryan’s chest. “That’s too bad, you really would have enjoyed it,” he stated, pulling the blade from Ryan’s gut. “I guess we have to make our own guarantee that you won’t talk, he said nodding to Mike and Chad, who had both pulled their blades out of the tree.

Mike rammed his blade to the hilt in Ryan’s upper abs, causing him to lurch his chest forward. The searing pain was unbearable and Ryan let out a loud cry of pain.

Chad then jabbed his blade in a hefty blow into the right side of Ryan’s chest. Ryan’s cry then became a higher pitch as if he were crying like a child. He sobbed, half in pain and half in anger at showing his emotions like this in front of these worhless rednecks.

Ryan could feel his lung filling with blood and was gasping as it began to trickle from his lips.

“There, there now.” The calm voice of the leader of the group was only minutely soothing this time. “Let me show you what you missed.” Ryan felt Scott's, blade tear into the flesh just below his navel. There was a sensation as if he were being shocked that brought the young man up on his toes. He felt his manhood burst its sensuous juices into his shorts.

Mike then rammed his blade in and out of Ryan's gut, causing the freshman to grunt and moan as his whole body shook from the blows.

Ryan still somehow hoped to survive this until he heard Chad one last time. “Let's stop playing with this fucker.” Ryan felt Chad's jagged blade rammed deep into the center of his chest. The force of the blow seemed to completely knock the last breath out of him as he became dizzy. He couldn't believe that he was actually being finished off by the one he hated the most. He felt himself sinking down the trunk of the tree as his world faded into blackness. ]]> Chapter 1 “Getting caught”

The young freshman ran like the wind into the canyon behind the small college. His heart raced as he sprinted along the creekbed and deeper into the woods. There was no cell phone reception here, so he knew he had to hide out before he could start sharing the pictures he had just snapped in the men's locker room.

He could hear the anger yelling of the three football players chasing after him. He was still a little ways ahead, but they were relentless in their pursuit. They were not about to give up without a fight.

He was on an adrenaline high, but knew he couldn't run forever. He rounded a bend and found hid himself in some underbrush. It was thick enough that he was sure they wouldn't be able to find him. That is, until he noticed he was still wearing a red shirt. He peeled off the sweat-drenched tank top and hid it in the dirt, so the bright color couldn't give away his location.

Ryan had a firm, lean swimmers build from all the years he spent swimming around his uncle's pool back in the city. He attended the college on both a swimming and track scholarship. Not that he needed the extra money. His family was one of the wealthiest (and most corrupt) in the state.

He wiped the sand off his hands on his black, silky running shorts that he had worn while jogging around the gym. His smooth, muscular chest was heaving from the long run from the Athletic building on campus. He had gone just over a mile, but knew the three football players couldn't be far behind.

He thumbed through the pictures on his phone. He just couldn't believe it. Jackpot. The scandal of the semester, three star football players having gay sex in the lockerroom. Ryan was stoked. He just couldn't wait to put this out there for everyone to see.

He always had a dislike for football players. Their bulky, muscular bodies being worshipped like they were demigods. He sneered at the mere thought.

Ryan knew his slim, tight lean body was far better and resented how people viewed brain-dead football players as athletes. It took far better endurance and strength to run a marathon than it did to run a hundred yards carrying a ball.

He heard some steps rounding the bend. Peering out through the branches, he spotted Scott, the team's senior quarterback, slowly walking through the tall grass along the creek.

Scott had only enough time to pull on a pair of shorts and slip into his flipflops before he had started chasing Ryan, so, his clearly-defined muscular chest and abs were glistening in the sunlight. His shirtless torso was nearly twice the size of Ryan’s with well-formed pecs and a muscular gut.

Ryan may have been envious of most football players, but Scott had such a charisma about him that Ryan couldn't help but stare at the quarterback's chest as the sweat slowly ran down and dripped from his pecs,

Then, much closer to this side of the creek, he saw Mike, a large defensive lineman, wading bare-foot through the creek just a few feet away from him. Mike was a brawny, well-built guy, who had obviously spent several hours each day in the gym. His large shoulders and chest were clearly discernible through his tight black tank-top. He stopped for a moment and stared into the undergrowth where Ryan was hiding. Ryan stayed still, holding his breath, fearful that Mike would notice any movement in the brush. He took a couple of steps closer to Ryan, until he was just a three feet away.

“Can you see him?” Scott called out to Mike.

Mike turned away from the brush where Ryan was hiding. All Ryan could see of him now was the back of his black shorts and bulging calves. The water from the creek had moistened the hair on his legs as it trickled back down. Ryan covered his mouth, so that his heavy breathing would not give him away.

“Not yet. But he couldn't have gotten too far.” Mike replied back.

Just then, Ryan felt a quick jerk on his leg as he was pulled out of the bush from behind. “Got you now, mother f***er.”

Ryan immediately recognized the voice of Chad, who was probably the cockiest person he had ever known, pulling him face-down out from the underbrush.

Once he was in the clearing, Chad let go of the young freshman's leg. Ryan rolled over and gave him a quick kick to the face, knocking the shorter guy backwards on his rear.
Chad quickly grabbed his nose to assess the damage. Not broken, but his cheek was still pretty sore.

As Ryan got up to run, he felt Mike's huge muscular arms wrap around his arms and chest as he was tackled him back down to the ground, knocking the shoes off his feet. Ryan kept trying to squirm his way free from Mike's firm body hold. He could feel Mike's muscular chest heaving against his back and the warmth of his every breath on the back of his neck. Ryan tried to wrestle himself free, but it was no use. Mike was too much of a beast to break free from.

All the while, Mike was enjoying the younger guy's body struggling in his grasp. The smell of Ryan's sweaty hair and the sensation of Ryan's muscles flexing in his arms as he struggled to free himself. Ryan's back rubbed up against Mike's large, muscular pecs. Mike could feel the runner's soft skin sliding smoothly against his chest. This was extremely arousing the large lineman, which made him even more determined to not let go of the boy.

Even when the younger guy settled down, Mike could feel the boy's chest and abs heaving up and down as he tried to catch breath. He wrappend his legs around the boy just so he could feel more of his body against his own. Oh, how he wished this could go on forever.

By the time Scott had gotten over to where they were, Chad was finally getting back up on his feet. Obviously Ryan's kick proved powerful, as Chad had a mark over his left eye that was bleeding slightly. Chad pulled up the bottom of his white sleeveless shirt and dabbed at the scrape, revealing his lean, abs along with his dirty blonde, furry man-trail of hair between his shallow navel and the low waistline of his cut-off jeans. Chad's build was similar to Ryan's, except Chad was shorter and had broader shoulders.

The two approached Ryan who again began squirming in Mike's grasp temporarily freeing his legs, causing the lineman to wrap his large, beefy legs around Ryan's slender thighs. Scott knelt down to where he could see Ryan's face. “Did you really think you could get away from us?”

Ryan knew he was caught, he knew his strength was nothing compared to the three football players in front of him. He knew he had to try to outsmart them. After all, they were football players and every knows football players aren't very smart. All he had to do was lie his way out of this.

“Let me go. I swear, I didn't see anything.” Ryan continued to insist as he sat up in Mike's manly embrace. His voice sounded more annoyed than anything and so clearly insincere that even those 'dumb' football players could recognize his act of superiority.

All of them knew he had seen what they were doing in the locker room showers and that was one secret that they could never let get out in this small of a town. Not to mention, he had been taking video of it on his camera.

“You're a d*** liar.” Chad landed a powerful kick straight into Ryan's abs, causing them to flex their fullest as he let out a heavy gasp. Chad was clearly the most unstable of the lot. He was the shortest of the group, but had well-defined features that showed through the arm long-cut sides of his sleeveless shirt.

Mike could feel Ryan's body press even harder against him as the boy tried to roll over, reeling from the kick he had just received. Mike held him in a spooning position as Ryan laid sobbing in his arms. Mike sat up and leaned his back against a tree, cradling Ryan in more of a seated position. Ryan sat there defeated, with the back of his head resting against the lineman's broad chest.

“I swear, I didn't see what you were doing.” Ryan's voice wasn't as arrogant as before. Even after his last attempt failed, he continued thinking he could outsmart these guys. After all, he was raised in an affluent neighborhood and these guys were just a few dumb, small-town rednecks who had never left this town. Besides, after what he had seen these three doing in the locker room, he knew they were a bunch of queers, and he was much better than that.

Even as he sat there captive in Mike's powerful arms, he thought he could out-smart these three small-town rednecks. Another quick blow to his gut from Chad’s swift kick quickly made him realize otherwise.

“Bullsh*t! I’ll cut that lying tongue right out of your f***ing, pretty-boy mouth.” Chad’s voice was enraged. Chad pulled out a 6-inch folding knife from his back pocket. Ryan looked over at Scott, hoping that he would get him out of this mess.

“Scott, I swear, I didn’t see.”

Scott was the son of the local preacher and star quarterback for the town. Ryan had met him the previous Sunday at church. Scott knelt down to look at Ryan face-to-face. “Do you really expect us to believe that?” Scott said in a calm, soothing voice as he lightly brushed Ryan's black, sweaty bangs from his forehead. Ryan closed his eyes at the sensation of the quarterback's soft and gentle touch.

Scott noticed this and knew how to work out this situation and continued brushing Ryan's hair away with his fingers, “You know, we could work something out.” Ryan stared at Scott's handsome face. This guy had such charisma that the younger freshman was easily mesmerized by him.

Scott's soothing voice was interrupted by Chad's. “Let's cut the lying tongue right out of this f**er's mouth.”

Ryan peered over Scott's shoulder, which was shining in the sunlight from perspiration and saw Chad standing there with a lock-blade in his hand. The redneck's well-built, yet unkept appearance was visually appealing, but his menacing, arrogant demeanor was totally repulsive to the city boy. There was nothing Ryan hated more than to have someone lesser than him try to act as if he were better.

Chad pointed the knife straight towards him. This sent an instant shiver through Ryan, who then, looked straight into Scott's peaceful green eyes. “I'm sorry, I swear I didn't see anything. I promise.”

Scott slowly ran his hand down Ryan's cheek and neck and began rubbing his fingers side-to-side across Ryan's chest, who again, closed his eyes at the sensation of his touch. “We know you saw us. The question is, what now?” Scott could tell that his voice had a calming effect on Ryan, who had again opened his eyes and was gazing into his. Scott watched Ryan's eyes closely as he used his other hand to rub his fingers across his own chiseled abs. Sure enough, Ryan's gaze left his as he glanced, longingly at the quarterback's eight-pack. Scott grinned at the runner. He knew exactly how to settle this.

Ryan noticed Scott's grin and quickly glanced away from his abs. He wasn't sure if Scott had caught him staring at his midsection, or if the quarterback was smiling because he had caught him in the lie. Either way, it was time for a new tactic.

“Okay, I did see you guys. I'm sorry. But I promise I won't tell.” His breath was becoming heavier from fear and his words were starting to sound desperate.

At this, Chad let out a rough laugh.

Mike calmly replied in Ryan's ear, “Oh yeah, well, how do we know that?” Ryan could feel the warmth from Mike's breath across the side of his head.

“Yeah. You done lied to us a couple of times. You little sh**.” Chad chimed in. Turning to Scott, he said, “If we gut this f**ker now, no one will ever find out.” At this, he knelt down on the other side from Scott and handed him an 8-inch hunting knife. Scott just held it calmly in his hand while Chad began rubbing his blade up and down the bumps in Ryan's abs, which shivered and flexed when touched by the cold steel.

Chad noticed the goosebumps raising up on Ryan's lean body. Seeing someone so arrogant as this city-boy starting to act in submission was a complete turn-on for this back-woods boy. He placed the tip of the blade against Ryan's navel and gave a soft twist, watching the small hairs on the runner's body ripple to an upright position.

Mike, too could feel the goosebumps spread their way across the boy's smooth body that was pressed so firmly against his own. It was clear that all three of the football players wanted the same thing. And it was quite possible that Ryan wanted it as well. Afterall, he had been watching them for sometime before Chad noticed him with filming them.

“Please, Please,” Ryan said in a quivering whisper. “I promise I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't lie about that. Please.” This time his voice was overly pathetic making it even less believable.

“Yeah?, You lied to us already, why would we trust you now?” Chad retorted. He drew his knife back as if he was going to ram it into Ryan's throat, but only laughed as the boy began to squirm, trying to flinch away.

“You’re just gonna have to believe me.” the lean boy said, trying to regain his self-dignity and looking up between Chad and Scott. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” Although, he was clearly out-numbered, the cocky city-boy was continuing to try his old tricks.

Recognizing a chance to quell the situation, Scott replied, “I’ll tell you what. There is one way we’ll know you won’t tell. How about you join us….for just one time?” Scott’s words were calm and reassuring as he drew nearer to Ryan. He was clearly trying to help Ryan out of this mess. Ryan shuddered as Scott's fingers rubbed over his nipples.

“No, no. I can't.” Ryan had been raised to hate homosexuality by his ardently Catholic uncle, but the sensation of this, the most popular guy not only in school but in town, touching him, was really arousing. Their faces were so close, that Ryan could feel the warmth of Scott's breath.

Scott ignored Ryan's plea and continued circling his middle finger around his nipple. Ryan responded verbally with another “No,” but arched his back as he brought in a deep breath. He could now taste the warmth of Scott's breath as he inhaled.

Mike loosened his grasp and rubbed his hands up and down Ryan's sides. “Just try it. You won't have to worry about us telling anyone. Besides, it would be so f**king hot. I guarantee you'll have the best orgasm ever.”

“This would be the only way we'll know for sure you won't tell anyone. Especially my dad.” Ryan knew exactly who Scott was talking about. Scott's dad was the local preacher where Ryan had been attending church. He had asked Ryan to serve as an usher one time.

Ryan's soft brown eyes, gazed up into Scott's. The sensation running through his body from Scott and Mike's hands sliding over his smooth skin was all too tempting. He knew he couldn't say no. Even without the knife, he knew he couldn't turn down this offer from him.

Just as he was about to relent, Chad leaned forward and began flicking one of Ryan's man-nips with his tongue. “That's right, queer boy. I'm gonna f**k the h** out of ya. Till you scream like a choir boy. I can’t wait to feel you squirm in my arms.” Chad said, taking off his shirt. He knelt down next to Ryan and licked his neck.

While the sensation of Chad's tongue was arousing, Ryan was appalled by being called queer boy, especially by some dumb-ass hillbilly who knew nothing about him. Though he was willing to do this with Scott, who was so charismatic, and even the quiet Mike, he was repulsed by this dirty-ass hick.

But before he could reply, Chad already placed one hand on his crotch. “Check this out. The faggot is already hard for us.” Ryan's anger boiled within him. Scott was one thing, but that prick was something else. He was not about to play b**ch to Chad and definitely not going to allow that bastard to call him a faggot.

He began struggling wildly again. “No F****ing way. I’m not gay like you, you stupid f**ker. Get the f** off me, you faggots.” Another well-placed kick to Chad's chest sent him backwards into the bushes.

As Scott got up to help Chad, Ryan rammed his head backwards into Mike's face, causing him to quickly let go. Ryan rolled to the side and got up and started to run, but Mike already had his arm and swung him backwards into the tree. Ryan's back arched as he felt the his bare back slam against the rough bark.

Mike then pulled Ryan to him and placed the boy in a full-nelson, exposing the boy's lean torso to whatever blows may come.

Chad got up, totally pissed off. Chad pulled a bowie knife from his back pocket and pointed it at Ryan. “Then, there’s only one way to guarantee you’ll keep your damned mouth shut.”

Scott stepped between them. He plead with the new kid one last time. “Come on, man. I can’t have my dad and the rest of the town knowing about this. If you do this just one time with us, we’ll know you won’t tell. And we won’t bother you again.”

Ryan's heart was racing in anger at Chad, but Scott's soft voice made him again feel reassured, he had actually felt some jealousy when he had caught Scott with the other two, but he knew that if he admitted this, then they might think that he was just like them. He didn’t like Chad very much and just saw him as a dumb hick. His impression of Mike wasn't much better, but at least Mike wasn't cocky and kinda cute in his boyish way. Mike slowly began releasing his hold on Ryan as the boy seemed to finally settle down.

“Okay, I'll do it.” Ryan said, lowering his head. He had to make sure they were convinced he was only doing this because he was forced to. He didn't want them to think he was some homo like them.

His mind was racing, trying to think of how to accomplish this, when Chad wrapped his arms around him and began rubbing his crotch against his. “That's right, faggy city-boy, your gonna feel this hard cock ramming you from the inside.”

This was more of Chad than he could take. “Get the hell away from me you f***ing faggots,” Ryan said as he shoved Chad into Scott and tried to make a run for it. He had only gotten a few feet when Scott had him tackled to the ground. Getting back onto his feet, he felt his arm squeezed in Mike’s beefy grasp. Mike flung him around and sent him backwards into the trunk of a willow tree.

Mike grabbed the folding knife that Chad had dropped earlier and came at him with a swift jab aimed at Ryan‘s chest. Ryan instinctively deflected the beefy lineman‘s hand and diverted the blow into the tree, just off to his left side. It seemed those years of karate lessons had paid off.

Chad came next trying to stab him the same way, but Ryan was able to deflect his blow off to his right. Ryan struggled to hold onto their arms as they tried to pull their blades out of the tree. He stopped struggling once he felt the cold steel of a third blade rubbing up and down his abs.

“I’ll give you a final chance,” Scott said as he ran his blade from Ryan’s navel to his midchest and back again. He then toyed with the boy who was now pinned against the tree by sticking the tip into his navel and twisting back and forth. Ryan squirmed at the tickling sensation, which quickly caught Scott’s attention.

“Come on. I think you’ll like it.” the quarterback said, as he pinched one of Ryan’s nipples. From the growing bulge in Ryan’s sweats, he could tell he was getting somewhere.

Chad reached his free hand and placed it in Ryan’s groin. “Wow, he’s hard already. He’s really gonna enjoy this.”

Annoyed by his straight-forwardness, Ryan shoved his hand away. “Get your f***ing hands off of me you faggot.”

Mike grabbed Ryan’s free arm and slammed him back into the tree, causing him to arch his gut forward. He, then felt a quick blow from Scott’s fist into his gut, immediately followed by a sharp pain. His eyes widened as he looked down to see Scott’s blade buried in deep in his navel with blood slowly trickling out. Ryan leaned forward and tightened his abs around the blade, which seemed to ease the pain slightly.

He gasped at the feel of the cole steel buried in his guts. His face went pale as he stared at Scott's hand, pressing the handle of the knife flush against his abs.

Scott leaned forward pressing his chest against Ryan’s chest. “That’s too bad, you really would have enjoyed it,” he stated, pulling the blade from Ryan’s gut. “I guess we have to make our own guarantee that you won’t talk, he said nodding to Mike and Chad, who had both pulled their blades out of the tree.

Mike rammed his blade to the hilt in Ryan’s upper abs, causing him to lurch his chest forward. The searing pain was unbearable and Ryan let out a loud cry of pain.

Chad then jabbed his blade in a hefty blow into the right side of Ryan’s chest. Ryan’s cry then became a higher pitch as if he were crying like a child. He sobbed, half in pain and half in anger at showing his emotions like this in front of these worhless rednecks.

Ryan could feel his lung filling with blood and was gasping as it began to trickle from his lips.

“There, there now.” The calm voice of the leader of the group was only minutely soothing this time. “Let me show you what you missed.” Ryan felt Scott's, blade tear into the flesh just below his navel. There was a sensation as if he were being shocked that brought the young man up on his toes. He felt his manhood burst its sensuous juices into his shorts.

Mike then rammed his blade in and out of Ryan's gut, causing the freshman to grunt and moan as his whole body shook from the blows.

Ryan still somehow hoped to survive this until he heard Chad one last time. “Let's stop playing with this fucker.” Ryan felt Chad's jagged blade rammed deep into the center of his chest. The force of the blow seemed to completely knock the last breath out of him as he became dizzy. He couldn't believe that he was actually being finished off by the one he hated the most. He felt himself sinking down the trunk of the tree as his world faded into blackness. ]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=1568 Sat, 07 Sep 2019 08:10:48 +0000 BattlesandDeaths]]> https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/showthread.php?tid=1568 This was a story I had written for the old forum.  There used to be a pic that accompanied it, but that pic has unfortunately, been lost.


Brad was a cocky American. Some damned cowboy, who had no clue as to his place in society. He had grown up bouncing between youth ranches for troubled teens, until he met the duke's son. They both turned 18 within a month of each other. When the duke's son decided to return to his home, he brought Brad back as a stable hand.


While Brad's attitude was in need of being checked, he was most certainly good with horses. He had been working in the stables for 4 years. Carrying buckets of food and water really taxed his strength and the result was a firm, muscular build.


The duke's son would sneak out regularly to the stables, where Brad was and the two would hold private encounters in the straw of an empty stable. Brad loved it. While he was always to be submissive as a servant, those encounters made him the master of the future duke. What could be more exhilarating than making his master's son kneel before him, or to make him groan from pain and pleasure.


Rumors began quietly circulating about Brad and the duke's son. One night, the duke took a few of his men and went out to the stables, catching the two young lovers.


The duke dragged his son back to the manor house, leaving his men to handle Brad. Ever so cocky, Brad pulled up his pants and looked at the duke's head servant. “So, what you gonna do now? Fire me?”


The head servant only gave a mere smirk..... “Sort of.” To that, he gave a nod to the five men with him and each one pulled a cross bow from his back.


Brad was shocked. “What the hell is this?” He stood arrogantly by the wall. He was already pissed from being treated as an inferior, but the nerve of these bastards, threatening him like this. They didn't need weapons. All they needed to do was tell him to go and he would gladly leave.


The duke's men each locked an arrow in his bow and held it in front of them. “What the f**k is this? You're going to kill me?” Brad could see from the look on the lead servant's face that this was the case.


“You should have thought twice before creating such a scandal in the duke's household. You're nothing but a filthy stable rat, thinking you could screw your way into the manor house.”


“So, what? Now you're gonna kill my for f**king his son. Why not kill him for f**king me?”


“His father will deal with him. You, on the other hand, would most likely use this to blackmail the duke into some sort of annual income. We will not stand for you tarnishing the name of this house.”


Brad watched as the servants all aimed their bows at his bare chest. His mind quickly jumped. His initial thought was to run like hell. He could feel his bare feet clench against the floor. No, he thought. I'm not going to run.


Brad looked defiantly at the servants. He spread out his arms and braced himself against the wall. He raised his chin and glared at the head servant. “F**k you and your master's house.”


With that, the arrows let go. Brad felt the first two hit him in the chest, causing his chest to twist first to the right, then to the left. A third arrow nailed him below the navel, causing his hips to jump forward. The final two rammed into his upper abs, forcing him to bend forward.


Brad, merely let out a hardened grunt when the arrows began slamming into him. The bow from the arrows forced him backward towards the wall. He grasped the wall, forcing himself to remain standing. He stared down at the five arrow protruding from his handsome body.


He could feel the blood in his lungs. His manhood began throbbing out it's final burst. It took all he could to stay standing. He grasped the wall with all the strength in his hands. He could not show any weakness to these bastards. His anger was flaring, but he knew anything he tried, would only make the pain worse. His facial expression flowed between anger, pain and fear,


A sickening feeling began crawling through his stomach as the blood trickled out of his wounds. His breath was becoming stronger, heavier. He could taste the blood in the back of his throat. His breaths gargled as he sought to hold in the air. His mind began blackening. He felt his back sliding down against the plaster wall as his life finally faded.]]> This was a story I had written for the old forum.  There used to be a pic that accompanied it, but that pic has unfortunately, been lost.


Brad was a cocky American. Some damned cowboy, who had no clue as to his place in society. He had grown up bouncing between youth ranches for troubled teens, until he met the duke's son. They both turned 18 within a month of each other. When the duke's son decided to return to his home, he brought Brad back as a stable hand.


While Brad's attitude was in need of being checked, he was most certainly good with horses. He had been working in the stables for 4 years. Carrying buckets of food and water really taxed his strength and the result was a firm, muscular build.


The duke's son would sneak out regularly to the stables, where Brad was and the two would hold private encounters in the straw of an empty stable. Brad loved it. While he was always to be submissive as a servant, those encounters made him the master of the future duke. What could be more exhilarating than making his master's son kneel before him, or to make him groan from pain and pleasure.


Rumors began quietly circulating about Brad and the duke's son. One night, the duke took a few of his men and went out to the stables, catching the two young lovers.


The duke dragged his son back to the manor house, leaving his men to handle Brad. Ever so cocky, Brad pulled up his pants and looked at the duke's head servant. “So, what you gonna do now? Fire me?”


The head servant only gave a mere smirk..... “Sort of.” To that, he gave a nod to the five men with him and each one pulled a cross bow from his back.


Brad was shocked. “What the hell is this?” He stood arrogantly by the wall. He was already pissed from being treated as an inferior, but the nerve of these bastards, threatening him like this. They didn't need weapons. All they needed to do was tell him to go and he would gladly leave.


The duke's men each locked an arrow in his bow and held it in front of them. “What the f**k is this? You're going to kill me?” Brad could see from the look on the lead servant's face that this was the case.


“You should have thought twice before creating such a scandal in the duke's household. You're nothing but a filthy stable rat, thinking you could screw your way into the manor house.”


“So, what? Now you're gonna kill my for f**king his son. Why not kill him for f**king me?”


“His father will deal with him. You, on the other hand, would most likely use this to blackmail the duke into some sort of annual income. We will not stand for you tarnishing the name of this house.”


Brad watched as the servants all aimed their bows at his bare chest. His mind quickly jumped. His initial thought was to run like hell. He could feel his bare feet clench against the floor. No, he thought. I'm not going to run.


Brad looked defiantly at the servants. He spread out his arms and braced himself against the wall. He raised his chin and glared at the head servant. “F**k you and your master's house.”


With that, the arrows let go. Brad felt the first two hit him in the chest, causing his chest to twist first to the right, then to the left. A third arrow nailed him below the navel, causing his hips to jump forward. The final two rammed into his upper abs, forcing him to bend forward.


Brad, merely let out a hardened grunt when the arrows began slamming into him. The bow from the arrows forced him backward towards the wall. He grasped the wall, forcing himself to remain standing. He stared down at the five arrow protruding from his handsome body.


He could feel the blood in his lungs. His manhood began throbbing out it's final burst. It took all he could to stay standing. He grasped the wall with all the strength in his hands. He could not show any weakness to these bastards. His anger was flaring, but he knew anything he tried, would only make the pain worse. His facial expression flowed between anger, pain and fear,


A sickening feeling began crawling through his stomach as the blood trickled out of his wounds. His breath was becoming stronger, heavier. He could taste the blood in the back of his throat. His breaths gargled as he sought to hold in the air. His mind began blackening. He felt his back sliding down against the plaster wall as his life finally faded.]]>