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the guest

the bad boys

The special gutpunch guest

I was in my late 20's and working as a financial analyst for a large firm downtown Detroit. I had lived a gifted life in one of the wealthy suburbs north of the city. I had been quite athletic in high school and college and still showed it. Through a twist of fate, I was about to meet up with a group of guys I wouldn't normally meet in my rather reserved life.

I found out later that the guys who worked me over that night first met in an east side gym. They were magazine quality good looking guys in their early 20's who were tan and tight, most likely from 40 hours a week of hard physical outdoor labor and even more hours in the gym. Shortly after they met, they created their own gym in an abandoned gas station in a particularly bad part of town just off the expressway. It served their purpose since no one in their right mind ever went in that area and they could have their extreme gutpunching sessions without interruption or interference. They apparently would draw straws to see who would get his gut brutalized by the other three, but tonight they would have a special guest to concentrate their blows on. That was all I could find out about them after my "special guest appearance".

A bad tire placed me right in front of the old gas station a little before midnight one Friday. It was the only place I could pull over after a blowout caused me to interrupt my trip home from the fitness center at work. I was standing outside my now locked driver's side door peering in at the keys sitting on the driver's seat. It was extremely humid and lightning began flashing through the exhaust filled air. Then it started to pour.

Just as I was looking around the seemingly abandoned, devastated area wondering what to do next, the guys pulled up for their normal Friday night gutpunching session. I had been in the rain long enough that the white T-shirt I was wearing had been plastered to my body. My shoulders and arms are well developed and my chest is firm and well defined. The tan that was developed through many weekends out on Lake St. Clair could be seen through the wet material. My belly still had a nice six pack sitting high and proud although a few years of working behind a desk had added a layer of padding making it protrude an inch or so over the sweat pants that were also now heavy with rain. I always figured that my abs were still plenty hard but it would soon become painfully obvious that they didn't have the endurance they once had.

"Got a problem?" One of them called over to Me. from the now open front door of the dingy old building. Like the others, he was wearing only faded jeans and work boots.
"Yeah, you could say that".
"C'mon in until this storm passes then we'll help you with the tire".
Something told me that this may not be a good idea but looking around I saw that I had no other options. I went inside. I stepped into what used to be the old front office.
"I've got some dry clothes you can put on," said one of them. We stepped through the office door into the old garage area. This was the place where, for the first time in my life, I would be taken beyond any thresholds I could have ever imagined.

In spite of my concerns, I tried to pull the T-shirt over my head and it wrapped itself around my face like a wet blindfold. I heard one of the guys say "OH YEAH!". Suddenly a punch was driven deep into my gut just above the navel. My shirt and sweatpants were ripped off me as I doubled over and dropped to my knees. I then heard someone say, "pick him up". After taking several hard blows to my belly by two of the guys, I was dragged over to what turned out to be an old hoist that was raised about seven feet in the air. Ropes were quickly tied around each wrist and ankle and I found myself tied spread eagle in a standing position under a single lightbulb. I looked down and saw my belly heaving in and out. "Aw don't do this". The shorter one answered the request by driving his finger deep into my belly button and saying, "Let's see how much you can take in that gut of yours. The blows began thumping and thudding into my stomach. They took turns concentrating on my lower abs driving their fists deeper and deeper as my abs began to weaken. Thumps and moans echoed around the old garage.

Moving up to just below my rib cage they worked me until I was gasping for the air that was being driven out of my body quicker than I could pull it in. Twenty minutes later my gut was softening into a meaty slab of rippled flesh hanging two or three inches past the elastic of my boxer briefs. This was obviously the part of the session that the younger looking one liked best. He sunk his right fist deep into my now softened gut just above the belly button. "Uhnnh, uhnnh, uhhhh, uhnhunnh" ,my stomach muscles burned and my guts throbbed as he worked me mercilessly in the belly from below my sternum to low under my belly button. "Uhnnh, uhnnh, uhhhh, no more, no more", I could hardly get any words out. "Aw my gut…. son of a bitch". He drove punch after punch just to the left and right of my abs. He seemed to like the way the meat around my belly button rippled and moved with each blow.

I was then untied and fell into a heap at the feet of the four jocks. I was rolled onto my back and pinned to the floor. They gave me a few minutes to recover before stomping on my belly over and over. I had time to tighten my gut a bit but I still grunted and groaned with each blow. One of them sat down across my hips. I saw my belly heaving up above the rib line then sinking down well below showing the arc of my ribs. He sunk his fist into my open and now unprotected gut just as it dropped as I exhaled the little bit of wind I had. "OOOOff, oooof, oooof, oooof, oooof, five blows sucked the rest of the wind out of my body. "OOOOff, oooof, oooof, oooof, oooof, five more sent a wave of incredible pain through my reddened belly. This went on for another 20 minutes. I worried about passing out because I could see by their wild eyes that they would just continue punishing my unprotected stomach even if I was out cold.

Finally the guys decided it was time for a break. I had been taking it in the gut for well over an hour now and heard one of them complain that his biceps ached like he had been benchpressing tow trucks. They tied my arms behind my back and sat me on the end of an old workbench that smelled like motor oil. I could see the damage that had been done to my belly. It was red and bruises were beginning to appear and I realized that I had little control over my abs. I was breathing hard and took advantage of the break to get my bearings. I realized that three of the guys had left on a beer run. The younger one was sitting in front of me in an old stained easy chair staring at my belly. "How ya doin pretty boy?" he asked with a boyish grin. "Got a bit of a bellyache?". I answered you gotta let me go. I can't take anymore". He got up out of the chair and walked over to inches from my face. "I think you got more to give". With that he pushed me back onto the workbench with my back arched over my still tied arms. My legs dangled over the end of the bench and my ankles were tied to the 4X4 supports. My stomach was now stretched open and my belly button was elongated and exposed. After a few solid punches just above the navel, he sunk his thumb deep into my belly button. He grabbed a good hold onto my brutalized abs and twisted and pulled until I screamed out in pain. He slid his open hand down my belly and under the band of my shorts and began to stroke me with his right while pounding me with his left. I begged him to stop.

I passed out a few minutes later and when I came to I was laying untied on the bench surrounded by empty beer cans. I gathered my clothes and walked out into the night. Days later I discovered that the guys had moved on to some abandoned building on the west side. I found myself fantasizing about the revenge I would have someday. It was a big city, but not that big, and I now knew that I wanted to be on the giving end of the beating I had received on that muggy, rainy night. "Oh yeah, we'll meet again".