We are both chiefs of hostile barbarian tribes.

One night you attack my village with your men. You are in the majority, my men are quickly overwhelmed and rounded up in the village square. I'm jerked out of bed, stuffed and drunk after a plentiful binge. Your men are dragging me to the village square, where you are already waiting for me. Laughing, you pat my big bulging belly, then you give me a few hard punches on the navel. I grunt and tighten my abs.

At a sign from you, your men tie me to the old oak tree in the square, our sacred tree. You take a wooden spear almost as thick as an arm and run at me with a battle roar. I see the spear aimed at my huge belly and, in defiance of death, stretch it out even further towards the spear. Then it hits me in my cavernous, sensitive belly button, pierces through muscles and fat, pushes through my intestines. What kind of pain! I feel the spear emerge from my back and sink into the trunk of the oak.
Your men cheer as they see me pinned to the trunk!

Terrible pain is raging in my big belly. I moan and grunt, my huge paunch heaving up and down. How much I would like to hold my aching, mortally wounded belly to get some relief. But my bonds won't allow it.

"Untie me!" I groan. "At least let me die with a little dignity. Show me the respect a chief deserves!"

You laugh and ram the spear a little deeper through my sore belly.

"You fat boar will die miserably on this tree! We both know how unbearably painful your death will be - I hope it will last a long time!"

Your men and you start a feast on the village square, it is eaten and drunk, in front of the eyes of my tied up men and in the face of my torment.

Again and again your warriors stand in front of me, sticking out their bellies and holding them, moaning and wailing, while grimacing as if in great pain. Then they laugh and shake the spear that pierces my guts, adding to my torment.
    
It's late at night, you and your warriors are totally drunk and I'm in agony with my guts impaled.

Then I hear something behind the tree to which your spear pinned me. It is one of the women of my village who has crept up and is now using a knife to cut the rope that binds me to the trunk.

With a relieved groan, I clutch my fat, pierced belly, which hurts so terribly.

"Take revenge for what was done to our tribe, chief..." the woman whispers to me. "Kill that fat bastard!"

I groan and rub my huge paunch, it's swollen rock hard. Groaning, I grab the mighty spear that has torn my guts and try to pull it out of my fat belly. But the terrible abdominal injuries have weakened me and the spear is stuck too deep in the trunk of the oak.

"Give me your knife, woman..." I grunt.

She does, and with the knife between my teeth, moaning and groaning, I pull myself forward on the spear, along the entire shaft, until it slides out of my back. My guts are bulging out of my torn belly button! I'm trying to hold back my guts with my left hand, the knife now flashes in my right hand. I moan. My belly hurts so much!!!

I see you drinking among your men and everything in me focuses on ramming the knife into your mighty belly. I start moving, staggering. You're all so drunk, none of you are counting on me. I slit the stomachs of the first men who notice me before they get to their feet. Groaning, they fall into the dust, spreading their entrails on the village square. Now there is movement in the other men who want to put me down.

But then your voice echoes through the night: "Let him! He's mine!" Your tongue is heavy from the beer, you slur. You draw your sword clumsily and stagger towards me.

My left hand lets go of the guts that have been holding it back. A large gush of intestines spills out of the large wound in the navel. I stretch out my fat, bleeding belly to you, moaning. You thrust your sword deep into my gut, grinning. We face each other face to face. That is what I have been waiting for. I'll ram the knife into your lower abdomen, just above your crotch and make a deep cut up to your belly button.
Your eyes widen in surprise. Then pain covers your face. "Aw, my belly! What have you done?"

"What you deserve, you fat bastard! Spread your guts!"

You look at your big belly and see your intestines falling to the ground in bloody loops. There it mixes with my guts, which also hang to the ground.

"My guts, my precious guts..." you wail, pulling the sword out of my fat belly.

"Share my agony!" I laugh with a pained face, while with every breath more and more entrails push out of my open belly.

"You got me good!" you moan. "Yes... like you me!" I grunt.

"Gods!!! My belly..." The pain overwhelms you. You clutch your open belly and collapse.

My men cheer!

I can't savor my triumph for long, the pain in my torn belly is wrestling me down too.

Groaning and moaning, we lie belly to belly and touch our destroyed intestines. My hand explores your abdominal cavity and I feel your hand dipping through my torn belly button into my gut. It hurts so much and yet it gives us so much satisfaction...

In agony we grin at each other while the last thing we feel is the excruciating pain in our bellies and the excitement in our cocks.