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The Fireman
by Gutache

He was late! It had gotten dark, and was it beginning to rain. I was standing on the deserted corner waiting for the client to show up. He had been recommended to me by another client; I only met with guys who were vouched for by another client. It was an hour passed the time when we were supposed to meet. My cell rang. I let it ring three times then answered, "Talk to me," I said, sounding a little pissed. "This is number four," he said. I used no names in my business only numbers. "I have been at a fire and I am on my way if it is not Too late", he said. "You've paid, so it is not too late," I said. I will wait." "I will be there in about 15 minutes, but I won't have time to change," he said.

He arrived looking a little bushed from his exertions at the fire. He stared at me, probably wondering what sort of guy did what I did for a living. "You are very highly recommended," he said sticking out his hand. "You know what I want," he asked. "Yup," I responded ignoring his hand. "Lets go, we got a short walk." We walked about three blocks to a row of abandoned buildings with boarded up windows. "We're here," I said, unlocking a dark door and entering the building. I led him up down a flight of stairs, and entered through a door into a small room with no windows, about fourteen feet square. "This is the office," I said. The room had a high ceiling, and there were ropes and chains hanging from the ceiling. There were manacles on the walls, and the two columns supporting the ceiling were padded. There were spotlights aimed appropriately to highlight a clients muscle. I also video taped the sessions special request. The floor was padded to help keep the sound at a low level.

The client, number 4, was young, around 24 or so I would have guessed. He had on a heavily padded black suit consisting of pants, and a heavy knee length coat. The pants and coat had yellow reflecting tape on them. He wore heavy boots, and carried his helmet in his right hand nervously banging it against his right leg. "Ditch the helmet and the coat. Leave the pants and boots," I said. He dropped the helmet off to one side, and slowly unbuttoned and removed the coat, adding it to the pile. He had on no shirt, and the heavy pants hung low on his hips. His body was something to look at. He had good arms with veined biceps, well developed broad, flat, chest. His abs were well developed, and held his guts well compressed behind their deeply padded and grooved surface. His oblique muscles were also developed and added emphasis and thickness to the sides of his body, while at the same time defining the outer edges of his abdominals. His navel was a sort of small hard ring with a slightly raised center. His torso glistened with sweat from his earlier exertions, and his muscles rippled beneath the tight skin. His belly rose and fell with his breathing, causing his stomach to alternately sink in and then extend slightly out, all the segments of his abdominals expanding and contracting accordingly. This one was going to very, very good, I thought as I took in all the details of his body.

He stood there waiting. Suddenly I spun around and simultaneously plowed my right fist into his navel. He wasn't ready, and my fist sank, with some resistance, deeply into his guts. He was totally surprised, and his eyes bulged out, his mouth flew open, and he let out an animal cry of pain. His stomach muscles tightened up immediately and forced my fist out. He folded over gagging and holding his stomach. "Stand up," I ordered. I put my hand under his chin and lifted him up to an almost upright position. "Put your hand down." I commanded. He slowly lowered his hand from his pain racked gut. "Keep your hands down. Holding your belly isn't going to help," I said. "Do you understand," I asked," not really caring whether he did or not. He just nodded. "Good," I said. Again I lashed out with my right fist and planted it just below his navel. I felt my fist start to sink in, but his abs muscles tightened up and prevented good penetration. However, the energy behind the punch was transmitted to his internal organs through his muscle wall, jarring them violently. He leaned his head back and opened his mouth as the pain flooded over him. As he leaned toward me, and before he could in any way recover, I drove my fist into him again. This time I was rewarded by a very deep penetration, allowing me to feel his tortured guts being driven in under my fist, only to slide out from under as my fist reached its maximum depth. He cried out again, and gagged. I jerked my fist out of his body, and watched his highly compressed guts slide back into place, slightly distending his belly. I gave him no opportunity to recover. I punched into him fast, hard, and deep, over and over. He put his left hand on my arm hoping to stop my onslaught. It did no good. I continued my battering not letting up for a minute. He was hunched forward, trying to flex, but it was too late for that. I knew the pain was very intense. Each blow causing a sudden sharp pain followed by waves of a burning pain flowing over him from his deepest core. I knew that soon his body would begin to tingle due to lack of blood flow caused by the pounding he was enduring, and that he would become drunk on the pain, and I could then do what I wanted to him unimpeded by his muscles. His mind would become hazy, but still able to realize that his internal organs were being brutalized and not being able to do anything about it, having by then lost control over his defenses.

I had to hold him upright now by pushing him against one of the padded columns with my left fist, while torturing his guts with short hard jabs in his navel with my right. He was breathing hard, and glistening with sweat. His stomach muscles were getting flabby, and offered little resistance to my fist. I drew my fist back as far as I could, and then plunged it full force into his body, driving my fist, his stomach muscle, and his intestines deeply in till they nested hard against his spine. He was in agony, but I could tell that he was pretty drunk with the pain, and had started to give small signs of liking it. "You liking that boy," I asked, as I plunged my fist in again. He wriggled and squirmed trying to save himself from further torment, but it was no good. He had neither the strength nor even the desire to hold me off anymore. Instead he just stood there and absorbed the punishment, willing my fists to drive in deeper and deeper. Since I couldn't go deeper as I was already bottoming out, I went lower. His heavily padded pants had gradually slid down his sweaty body, exposing the full length of his belly. I amused myself for a moment thinking that his cock must be the only thing holding them up in the front. His lower belly was beginning to sag out a little, so I began a merciless assault on that target. Each devastating punch drove deeply into his body. Again there was no resistance. His intestines were driven upward and caused his belly from the navel up to bulge out, all the padded segments of this abs muscles became tight and highly visible. Each time I withdrew my fist, all his guts dropped down below his navel bulging out his lower belly, and leaving the upper sort of concave.

By this time he seemed more alert, but very drunk with pain. His legs were quivering, and he was getting harder to hold up. I knew his whole body tingled and could see it quivering. I knew the burning pain was very intense, but I also knew that he had arrived at that point where he wanted more and more. Enough was not enough. He was beginning to gasp out "hit me", or "harder", or "more". His belly was soft from top to bottom. He had no control over his muscles. He had become a good looking punching bag. I called over to my camera man, and had him come over and grab the client holding him upright from behind. The client was very pliable, and didn't offer any resistance.

His arms just hung down, and the muscles, very visible in them, just jerked with each blow. The veins in his arms, chest, and lower abs muscles were throbbing with the beat of his heart. This was going to be the grand finale. I looked him in the eye and said "this is it, are you ready." He stared back with bloodshot and pain filled eyes, and nodded with both anticipation, and resignation. I buried my fist as deep as I could to the left of his navel, following up with a like blow to the right. I plunged into his body just under the ribs on either side of the center cut of his abs. On the right side I got the base of his stomach a good shot, and on the left side his liver. His face went white, and I thought he was going to pass out. I worked his navel hard, and really loved the feel of my bare fist blasting its way into his very core. He was moaning and crying out continuously, his cry being cut off each time my fist struck. I decided that he had had enough. I finished him off with a solid blow aimed just above his navel. My fist slid solidly and deeply into his quivering body. His intestines absorbed the full force of the blow, he cried out, and then slowly passed out.

I had several recovery rooms available, and my cameraman and I carried the fireman to one of the rooms and left him on a cot. I called for my resident paramedic to take care of him and make sure he was ok. I placed a note for him telling him how to get out of the building, and also a round lapel pin, numbered on the back, which had 'TBW' in black lettering on a red fist background. We waited around till we knew he was going be ok, then left. By the way 'TBW' stands for The Body Wrecker. I give one of these pins to all the clients I invite to come back.