At seventeen, Alexander was the most hated student in his class, at least by the boys. Involved in his perfect physique that he adored to exhibit at every workout and whenever he could and even when he was not shirtless, he always wore tank tops or tight clothing to put his muscles in value. He was not a mountain of muscle but he had a dry, well-drawn body that his tight clothes always emphasized. He was particularly proud of his abs whose form even seemed to taunt observers and often asked people (usually girls or younger boys) to hit them to impress the gallery, which generally worked very well as these punches were nothing for his rock hard abs. All the girls were crazy about him which made an extra reason for the boys to hate him and/or being jalous of him. There was with no doubt more muscular or more handsome boys but he seemed to be surrounded by a kind of aura which he took advantage and used a maximum.
It was quite late in the afternoon. He was finishing his football training alone, on an old playground more or less abandoned which was between school and home. The sun was beginning to decline, which was the most beautiful effect on his ripped body that he was exhibiting as usual, even in the absence of spectators. But in fact, there were spectators, lurking in the shade of a hedge, waiting for their time. There were four of them and they were all in the same class as Alex. They were some of those who constantly evolved in the shadow of this Adonis and who had more than enough. It was high time someone brought down this arrogant asshole from his pedestal. He had been watching her for almost half an hour now and had been able to attend his physical training. They were forced to see, despite themselves, that Alex's body was fucking hot! Watching him move was quite hypnotic and, after a few minutes of observation, they could already feel their cock bulging uncontrollably in their underwears, their excitement being reinforced at the thought of demolishing this perfect body.
It was at the moment when Alex began to gather his things that they came out of their hiding place and slowly approached their prey, separating from each other like hunted wild animals to pin down the young man who closed his bag sport. He noticed them, of course, but did not pay much attention to their ride until he had packed his things. He finally let go:
What's up guys! You come to train too? The land is yours, he added, adjusting his bag on his still bare shoulder.
He took a few steps to leave but one of the boys interfered, without saying anything. Alex looked around him suddenly felt like uneasiness, these guys were not there to train. They had an uncomfortable expression. He recognized at least two of them, but was generally not interested in the other boys in the class. They were the same age and were probably quite athletic but he dominated them by a few inches. If things were to escalate, Alex felt confident enough to get the upper hand, at least enough to get away with it.
Any prob' guys? He asked.
For any answer, the guy planted in front of him a few meters move forward. Alex, more and more uncomfortable, backed away instinctively but was quickly caught between the four types. The one standing behind was so close that he could feel his breath on his neck. Suddenly, without him knowing where it came from, his bag was torn off and a violent uppercut reached his jaw. In one second, he found himself on the ground, with a taste of blood in his mouth.
Then arms pulled him and he found himself on his legs again with both arms held firmly in his back by two of the guys while the others stood in front of him. They were also now shirtless, that they were going to get warm. Alex smiled when he saw the little muscles of these kids, did they really meant to beat him up?
If you believe that...
He did not have time to finish his sentence that one of the boys, the one in jeans, gave him a good right in the face, followed by a left hook and then another right, left, right, left. After a dozen of punches, Alex, seeing stars, had a bloody nose and several bruises on his face, his aura had already taken a hit. He did not understand what was happening to him. His troubled did not allow him to see a new uppercut arrive, this time directed against his prized abs, which took him off guard, expelling much of the air contained in his lungs. For the first time, the boy who had punched him and answered by the name of Milo, spoke:
You'll have to do better than that if you want to prove that you're better than everyone else!
He then started pounding Alex's abs mercyless, surrounding the navel area. This time Alex was able to flex them and the punches bounced at first on the skin. Alex was not going to let those shitty guys put him on his knees so easily. But as if the slugger had planned this for months, he began to expand the hitting area, using his two fists to leave no respite to his victim. He could see the muscles contracting before each shot and he was intent on taking advantage of each one. More and more blows were made at the level of the lower abdomen, on the sexy veins which indicated the way of his manhood and where the muscles were less resistant. At the level of the obliques, more particularly on this wide and inviting zone just under the ribcage in which the fists seemed to sink more easily. At the level of the plexus, on the most rippled abs, who snatched Alex the sweetest moans in the ears of Milo.
Sometimes a few shots were lost on his chest, unaccustomed to this kind of treatment, making him lose control of his breath. Others leaned him to the temples, making him lose the support of his abdominal muscles. Much faster than he'd thought, his abs, which they were so proud of, began to weaken. To be struck by children or girls was one thing, to endure this kind of punishment was another. He blamed himself for not being as strong as he thought.
For Milo, it was a great day, he felt the abs that bastard of Alexander was so proud to soften under his blows. He, the simple student was dominating the living god of the class, it was priceless! He would not have thought it would be so easy. Alex's body seemed so inaccessible, so resistant, and now, after about ten minutes, the muscles were already surrendering. He cursed against himself, the guy he admired as much as he hated was a fraud, his perfect body was not muscle but jelly. He might have his fists on fire, he doubled the intensity in his handywork and Alex could only moan and scream while his midsection was rendered useless.
As his body became more and more difficult to keep up, the two boys dropped him and Alex collapsed on the grass, tears in his eyes and hands on his battered stomach. It was then that a voice rose behind the group:
What the fuck is going on here?
A man on his early twenty was standing there. He wore jeans and a white tank top and was cut like a wardrobe, an impressive tattoo adorned his right arm. Alex smiled internally, he had just recognized the voice of his big brother. He was to join him, which he had totally forgotten, he was saved. Kiril, it was his name, walked with an energetic step towards his brother who was always lying on the ground, trying to get up. He glanced at the boys who moved aside in his path, both terrified and fascinated by this man who seemed to be the personification of the word "perfect". They understood where Alex's aura came from, genetics had definitely been very generous in this family. Without consulting each other, the boys immediately had the same idea.
Kiril was not suspicious of boys, they would never dare to attack him, even four, he would make one bite pf them. He leaned over his brother when he felt something hard and cold hit him behind the head. As he stood up, staggering slightly, some hands grabbed his shirt and used it to cover his head. One of the boys jumped on Kiril's back and grabbed the fabric, pulling hard to keep him from freeing himself. While another boy was thrown at Alex who was trying to get up to defend his big brother, the other two started to hit Kiril's amazing abs. Stretched in that position, the brick wall abs was so hard that the boys felt like they were going to break their hands. Seeing that he was going to free himself, Emil, the smallest of the group, propelled his feet between the legs of Kiril who immediately stopped struggling and fell to his knees, holding his brutalized balls.
A violent kick in the face interrupted his swearing and Kiril found himself on the back, still trapped in his own t-shirt. Stefan, still hanging on his back, encased the fall of these nearly 200lbs of pure muscle. In a sort of wrestling move, he even managed to imprison Kiril's neck between his legs in a headscissor and pulled on the muscular right arm with all his strength. Seeing that he was trying to free himself with his free arm, Milo jumped on Kiril's belly, which offered little resistance, the big brother screamed in pain and automatically contracted his steel abs to avoid further suffering and was now trying to bring down the boy who was trampling on his abs. Emil then grabbed the man's left arm and applied his own armbar, relying on Kiril's side, pulling the gun bewteen his legs. The big brother swore and shouted through his gag, using all his strength to break free.
Seeing that he would not manage to penetrate his abs, Milo looked for a way to weaken this muscle beast. He then sat on Kiril's tense stomach, grabbed his crotch and squeezed it violently. The big brother yelled loudly while Milo was twisted his ball and cock is some way they should not.
Luka, the last of the group, had managed to tie Alexander, half sounded to one of the football goal post and was now helping his companions. Without thinking, he kicked Kiril's face several times who was moaning with each blast, until blood passed through the white tissue at the nose and mouth. Seeing that the man was struggling with less vigor, he was brutally put back on his feet and dragged to the free post where he was tied too, his arms behind his neck. He still managed to stand up but was short of breath and was dazed by the kicks in the face. What was left of his tank top was finally torn off. His magnificent tattooed torso shone with sweat and the muscles lifted to the rhythm of his recovering breath. Kiril spat blood and glanced at the young, as if nothing had happened. As if he was still free and able to demolish them in two seconds. The arrogance also seemed family.
You may have balls to attack me, he said, even if it was a low blow but you should release my brother and me before it becomes ugly for you.
Milo ignored the threat and hit Kirill on the cheek with all his strength. Kill spat blood again and smiled, he did not even seem to want to struggle. He was ready to endure everything these kids had in mind and was perfectly confident in his ability to put up everything.
The young people exchanged glances. To demolish the big brother would be much more difficult than with Alex. Kiril was a real mountain of steel muscles and even tied, he seemed threatening. Emil thought of some low blows, difficult to contract his muscles when you have the balls brutalized. On the other hand, if they managed to dominate properly such a guy, it would be for these young people an immense and satisfying victory.
For his part, Alex found his spirits, sitting on the ground, hands tied behind his back behind the goal post. He saw his big brother tied in front of him, facing the youth group. His face was bloody but he looked at the boys with defiance. Alex knew his brother well, he knew he could endure a lot of corporal punishments, he had been training forever, it would take more than a bunch of kids to overcome, they would get tired well before. On the other hand, he himself had underestimated these young people and their desire to fight. His thread of thought was interrupted when the young people approached his big brother. Two of them placed themselves on Kiril's sides and placed a hand around his waist, after an exchange of glances, they started to hit the abs they had in front of them, the blows produced dull sounds, as if they were he was hitting against a thick wall. Big Brother kept staring at the denim boy who seemed to be the leader of the group. The blows of the other two were certainly insect bites for him. The denim boy approached and began loosening the Kiril's belt. Alex wanted to shout something but it was interrupted by a kick in the face, the last of the group had moved closer without him realizing it. He was put back on his feet, tried to struggle but the boy began to work on his weakened abs. Alex contracted them as he could and the boy seemed delighted to see that he still had a little strength left.
Stefan, the tallest of the band who had decided to have a face-to-face with Alexander, was enjoying this moment. He alternated caresses, and blows on the whole of this abdominal belt which seemed always so provoking. After each punches, he passed his hand over the targeted area and could feel that the muscles were becoming softer, the streaks less and less hollow, the skin more and more red. Already, with each stroke, Alex trembled on his legs but there was no question to ask him to stops, he preferred to be beaten than beg. In the family, death was better than shame. In the meantime, he felt his muscles faint, and the bastard's fists sink ever deeper into his stomach. When he realized that Alex's legs were giving up gain, Stefan adjusted the links and the little brother was suspended to the horizontal bar of the goals. This position, in addition to supporting him, had the merit of stretching and exposing all his delicious ripped torso.
Kiril was breathing steadily as Emil and Luka continued to hit him, banging each abdominal muscle alternately, they were red but still impenetrable. His jeans were unbuttoned and lying at his ankles, only his tight black boxer still protecting his privacy. Milo had thus undressed to expose all of his midsection and was currently working on the lower belly. Kiril possessed the same inviting veins as his little brother and this area seemed less dense than the rest. The already sore fists, seeing that they were not about to pierce this guy's armor, and even as Kiril's expression seemed less confident, they changed their tactics and the two boys who surrounded him were now concentrating on the obliques while Milo rained a real barrage of blows on the central abs of Kiril, from the lowers to the plexus.
As the muscles were pummeled, Kiril's expression changed. After half an hour of punishment, he now showed a grimace of pain, his breathing became more erratic, his stomach and ribs made him suffer. Keeping all those contracted muscles became more and more difficult. If the abdominals still held the shot, obliques, as trained as they are, were at their end, and he knew that once done, the abs would follow quickly. He was now trying to struggle and undo his bonds.
Although exhausted, feeling the victory close, the boys redoubled intensities and when obliques gave way, Emil and Luka were able to hit Kiril directly to the ribs and below, tearing him a few cries of pain. Immediately after, Milo felt the abs themselves lose some of the consistency even though they were still blocking their fists. The two brothers were now moaning in concert, the little one having his internal organs brutalized and the big one having his beautiful muscle armor pierced. But he had some resource, in a beastly cry, he tore off his ties and, in the process, throw a hook to the boy on his right, sending him to the ground knockout, the others backed down. This effort tugged at his obliques, which snatched him a new groan and forced him to bend over. Milo took advantage of the opening and charged Kiril, shoulder forward. He reached it in the stomach and, with the help of the ankle-dropped trousers, both tumbled to the floor. It was necessary to neutralize his guns who had put Luka in a single shot. While Kiril had just repulsed violently his assailant who found his butt on the ground, Emil, and Stefan, who had joined them, each took an arm of the big brother, sat down on the ground taking support on him and began to pull each of arms to them. Prisoner between two armbars, Kiril struggled with all his strength and, the biceps swollen block, seemed to have the advantage but the two boys, who were taking support on the armpits with one foot, were now kicking him with their free foot on the floating ribs that were no longer protected by his obliques. The pain made Kiril lose focus and he was soon teared apart in a spread eagle position.
Milo, still on the buttocks, was fascinated by the body that was struggling in front of him, each of these perfect muscles seemed about to explode. He ignored the erection that assailed him and went to the aid of his comrades. Trying to pass threw the stinging pain of his ribs, Kiril was beginning to regain his ascendancy. Milo grabbed pieces of the old goal net and tied them around one of the big brother's biceps before pulling on it at full force. Kiril screamed as the nylon rope sheared and penetrated the muscle. He was quickly forced to release it and, as the blood could not flow properly, his arm fell almost inert on the floor. Delighted that his plan worked, he did the same with the other arm. A few minutes later, Kiril was groaning on the floor, arms crossed, unable to move them, the threat was eliminated. He tried to get back on his feet, but between his unresponsive arms and aching abs, he could not.
Luka had been relieved. Determined to avenge himself, he sat down on the big brother's chest and hit him repeatedly in the face, sending his head waltzing left and right, squirting the blood flowing from his nose and a wound at the arcade. Then Kiril was raised, and his arms were tied behind his back, more firmly this time. The ties to the biceps were sliced, leaving red marks, almost raw, on the skin. Kiril was now in the middle of the group, bound and helpless, his arms numb and the sight troubled. He was at the mercy of this group of insignificant kids.
He glanced at his little brother who had lost consciousness, hanging on the goals, he had apparently thrown up his lunch by having his stomach hit. He boiled inside while the others surrounded him again. He did not see the first punch coming crashing just above his belly button. Fortunately, he was prepared, and all the muscles that were still responding were tense. Another blow, unexpected, reached him in the kidney, followed immediately afterwards by an uppercut to the plexus. This combination took him by surprise, the first shot had bent him back, leaving his midsection wide open for the next. He bunched his muscles again and bent slightly forward, adopting a boxing posture to swallow at his best the blows. And the blows came from all sides, always carried at full power and always very precise. A blow to the left peck was followed by a blow to the liver, he grimaced and received a chin uppercut that made him lose his guard, several shots took the opportunity to invite themselves in his opened abs.
He was thus thrown into this weird dance for a moment. Each shot pushing him back to another attacker. A violent jab drove by Luka, made him stagger to Emil who propelled his knee in Kiril's lower belly, he bend over and was pushed back to Milo who gave him a front kick in the lower back, just above the links, he grunted, was projected forward and his offguard abs were reached by Stefan double fist. For the first time, the blow penetrated his brick wall abs, Kiril coughed and, as if it was the signal that the young people were waiting for, they all began to hit him in the gut. Quickly the abs weakened, shook as Kiril bounced back, leaning forward to give as little space as possible to the hungry fists who were trying to make their way through his stomach. He found himself suddenly cornered, nothing could amortize the blows and Kiril felt his abdominal muscles surrender. The kids were digging deep in his gut now, the big brother was coughing, spitting, moaning with each stroke. His body, which he thought was invincible, was defeated by children. Soon his legs flagellated and he collapsed on his knees, gasping and drooling. The young people congratulated each other, they had just slaughtered a titan.
But they were not finished yet. They had come to make Alexander pay for his cockyness and had planned various things but he had proved being rather disappointing, not very resistant. Fortunately, the big brother, as fallen from the sky, turned out to be a much more entertaining target. Kiril was raised again, he was dazed and his links were redone. This time, he was hanging on the horizontal bar like his little brother.
A heavy bag was brought, it contained several bottles of water. Milo had the idea to force Alex to drink to distort his pretty little midsection, but it was finally the big brother who was finally going to suffer this torture. However, the little brother was still sprinkled with water to wake him up, he had to attend the punishment of his big brother. Alexander regained consciousness on contact with the cold water and shook his head, to his dismay he was still attached and his brother was now hanging like him, he seemed to have taken a lot.
You may want some water, asked Milo while he was carrying a bottle with swollen lips of Kiril.
Seeing that he was not unclenching his teeth, one of the boys hit him hard in the abdomen, who resisted more than he thought he would.
You'd do well to obey, Milo ordered as he waved to one of his comrades who stepped towards Alex and hit him in the pit of his soft stomach.
This time the fist penetrated deeply into the former ripped abs and the little brother spat. After several blows, Kiril agreed to open his mouth and drink a few sips of water, but Milo held the bottle in place and pinched the young man's nose to force him to continue swallowing, he only released his grip when he was certain that the big brother had drunk everything. He then was given another bottle. Kiril was thus forced to empty several bottles, he struggled, moaned, tried to spit out, but each time his little brother suffered the consequences. He knew he would endure everything without flinching, even putting himself in danger, he was not the type to beg, so he'll have to obey in order to protect him.
As the bottles emptied, Kiril's belly filled with water and it gradually became rounded, the abdominal muscles already spreaded by the position stretched further and their shape seemed to erode, the brick wall becoming less and less visible. Once the last bottle was absorbed, he seemed to be three months pregnant and the abs were barely visible. Kiril already wanted to vomit and began to want to pee. Alex watched the scene helpless and incredulous.
For the rest of the festivities, it was Emil, the smallest of the band who came forward. He ran his hands over Kiril's belly and massaged him, causing a few squats that heightened the big brother's nausea, he pressed his fist against the protruding belly and plunged it as far as he could. Kiril's abs seemed to reappear and resisted. Emil then withdrew his fist and hit the same place with all his might. As resistant as they may be after the tortures suffered, Kiril's abs, both stretched by his position suspended and compressed from the inside by the water-filled stomach, was unable to push back the boy's fist which sank significantly into the gut. Kiril coughed, moaned and spat part of the water at the same time, he had never felt such pain! Impressed by this show, Emil punched again right in the middle of the gut and the big brother belched again.
Whenever Emil hit him, Kiril vomited a little more water, which was quickly accompanied by bile and then blood as the stomach emptied and his internal organs were hit hard. When there was no more water to evacuate, the big brother's abs no longer offered any resistance. Other bottles were taken out of the bag and the calvary start anew for Kiril, he was forced to drink to bloat his stomach and abs an then his midsection were pummeled to empty him. After a moment, he was unable to restrain himself and his bladder emptied. Drenched from head to foot, humiliated, beaten, he did what he never thought he could do, he begged the boys to stop.
Believing they had done their job, the boys untied him and his brothers who both fell to the floor and walked away.
Kiril, on his knees, stood with his stomach and sides, tears in his eyes. A man then drew himself above him, in the setting sun. His little brother was standing in front of him, his fists clenched.
How could you... he murmured.
He then grabbed his big brother by the hair and put him up, a spark of rage in his eyes.
Beggin are for shits, he shouted before hitting his big brother in the face.
While holding him by the shoulder he began to hit him again and again in his battered gut. Kiril wanted to bend but each time his little brother straightened him up. Inability to stand up, Kiril sank on the shoulder of his little brother who tirelessly continued to demolish his ounce steel abs. Ignoring the saliva and the blood flowing down his back from his brother's mouth, which was becoming blue with lack of oxygen, Alex, uppercut after uppercut, vented his rage. He then pushed back his big bro and punched him again at the face, left to jaw, hook the cheek, uppercut to the chin. Kiril's muscular body staggered back like a disarticulate puppet, fell to the side and then got down on his fours to try to get up. It was then that a violent soccer kick hit him on the left side, causing him to fall on his back. He did not have time to react when a foot came down in his soft stomach, pulls out a new howl.
We do not beg in our familly, shouted Alex!
He stomped on his brother's body for a while, enventually trampling his chest. He then sat on Kiril's torso and started to pummel his face. The last thing Kiril saw was his own brother beating him up.
When he realized that his brother had lost consciousness, Alexander got out of breath. He had never begged, that brother whom he admired was so weak. And as he realized that, he was hit hard in the head and slumped on the inert body of his older brother.
The boys, seeing the turn of events had decided to stay to watch. The show had been most exciting and they all had raging hard-on. They placed themselves in a circle around the inanimate bodies and masturbated. When they had finished, which was quick in view of their excitement, the two brothers were covered with sperms. One of the boys took a picture of their trophy with his smartphone, it could still be useful.