Belly execution

"Undress!" The man who led me out of the cell into the small walled courtyard tugs at my jacket. I obey.
"That too!" He points to my undershirt. I follow reluctantly, now standing shirtless in the yard. My big belly arches mightily over the waistband. The man pushes me towards the wooden pole standing in front of the wall, chains my arms to it. Then, grinning, he rubs my huge hairy belly.

A boy comes into the yard, barely older than 13. The man goes to him, pulls a small-caliber gun out of his jacket and hands it to the child. "12 shots. Aim for the navel.” The boy snorts excitedly and steps into position. The man puts his hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "Pay attention. I picked out someone with a big paunch for you. You have a nice big area to hit with.” The boy nods, takes another deep breath and aims.
A bang, a sharp pain in my stomach. The first slug hits the center, a hand's breadth above the navel. I groan and bend over backwards. "Not bad," I hear the man say, "aim a little lower." The boy pulls the trigger again. The second bullet hits me halfway between the navel and the first bullet hole. A hot pain spreads in my upper abdomen. "Yes, better," sounds the man, "even deeper."
I hear the shot. A hard impact, left below the navel. I groan. The pain is even more intense than in the upper abdomen.

The boy's not a bad shot. He shoots eleven times, each time hitting my abdomen, around the navel. The first bullet must have hit my stomach, all the others are stuck in my guts. The pain is terrible. The small caliber couldn't penetrate my body, but it tore my intestines. I know what this means for me, I face a miserable, agonizing death. If I'm lucky, I'll bleed to death in a few hours. I'm more likely to die of peritonitis. That can take days. The pain is already unbearable.
The man pats the boy on the shoulder appreciatively. "Not bad." He makes a disappointed face. "I didn't hit his belly button." The man laughs. Both come over to me. "Damn, no, you didn't get the navel. But look how you drilled his big, hairy paunch! Every shot went into his guts.” The boy stares at the small bloody wounds in my abdomen. "I came very close twice..." "Exactly," the man nods, "and now get your bullseye!" The boy shoves the muzzle of his gun into my navel. The touch immediately causes a powerful wave of pain, makes me moan in agony. The shot rings out and the hot pain that is now exploding in my gut button is worse than anything before. My vision is clouded, there is a rushing in my ears. My heart beats in my throat. "Well done!" I hear the man say.

I wonder what it takes to get your kids to shoot a defenseless person 12 times in the belly. With a small caliber, knowing well what a cruel death will follow. The man unties me. Groaning, I fall to my knees, clutching my aching tank. "Up with you!" The man throws my clothes in front of me. I pick them up, whimpering, struggle to get to my feet. Every little movement, every breath hurts so much. I stagger in front of him, hunched over, hands pressed to my pot. He takes me back to my cell. Groaning, I stagger past the other cells, seeing the inmates staring at me with a shudder. When my door opens, I groan and sink onto my bunk. The man watches with a grin as I grope my sore gut while whimpering. It feels hard and swollen. Blood oozes from the small holes made by the bullets. I desperately rub my mortally injured belly.

I've always been a fat guy and proud of my big, firm tank. Before I was imprisoned here, I had put on a few more pounds and fed my belly as round and heavy as it had ever been. Now, of all things, the huge belly had become my undoing. Of course, it was the perfect belly to swallow twelve bullets and I felt a certain degree of pride that I walked off the pitch with twelve bullets in my gut. But the armor of fat encasing my guts also made for a particularly agonizing death, because no hit was instantly fatal.
I moan and groan as I hold my big, heaving belly. It hurts so bad! A hot, excruciating, burning pain. I have no idea how to endure this for hours or even days. I remember a few days ago that a moan of pain came down the hall from another cell. It was a long time before it fell silent. Now I'm lying here in agony myself - and I know I'm going to lose...