stomachache's blog

(This is part of a new series, depicting the deaths of alternate parallel versions of characters from other stories. WARNING: These are very gory and very graphic. If you do not enjoy that, do not read these. Contains gore and extreme violence.)

Sam cut through the woods up the hill to get to the top of it. He managed to get permission to leave town to see the solar eclipse in its totality, traveling to a small town where he knew no one else and staying at a hotel until the following day. He knew it was risky, having no one to call apart from 911 if anything went wrong, and he'd be going to the outskirts with limited cell service, but it was worth it to him to see the eclipse from such a good vantage point. It was perfectly cloudless; the perfect day to witness the moon pass in front of the sun.

Halfway through the trees, he took off his shirt and tucked it into his jeans, baring his body to the air. He felt it was the most vulnerable expression to the heavens, showing his courage in the face of such an event. On some level, he understood the moon and sun to be divine, or as close as possible given his beliefs, and he felt like he was presenting himself for judgement in their eyes. His tits and belly were his most sensitive points, and he wanted the sky to see them in turn for its upcoming display.

He took a few more steps before hearing a loud bang from the distance, and feeling something hit him in his gut, knocking him backwards a bit. It burned, then morphed into a deep pain, and he looked down to ascertain what it could've possibly been. There was a hole just to the left of his navel, blood dripping out and staining his light jeans. He clasped it, then he finally processed that he had been shot in the belly. The pain quickly grew as he dropped to his knees and attempted to soothe the pain, but he had no idea what to do.

He reached into his pocket with his free hand and attempted to call 911, only to have no service. He dropped his phone and let himself fall to the ground, then felt sick and vomited all over the grass, unsure of whether it was the pain or the fear that inspired him to expel his contents. He knew enough about anatomy to know that the bullet would've passed near or through his intestines. He reached painfully around to his back in search of an exit wound to find none, proving that the bullet was still steaming somewhere in his guts, probably caught on his various digestive organs.

He started groaning and screaming by the time someone approached. He looked up to spot a middle-aged man holding a hunting rifle. Sam's face paled as he realized that he had been shot by a high-caliber bullet, and the organs in that part of his belly were no doubt turned to mush. Even if he could get help, the surgeons would still have to fix his insides, and he'd definitely come away with digestive issues, if he came away at all. He strained to turn his head fully towards him.

"Fuck!" Sam spit some lingering puke out of his mouth. "I think you shot me! Fuck, my stomach! I need help!"

The man said nothing until he got face to face with Sam, then flipped him on his back, earning a pained gasp and scream from him. He looked him up and down, observing the shirtless, chubby man with a bullet in his gut, and smiled.

"Damn it! It fucking hurts, asshole! Just call for help!" Sam noticed the smile a little too late, and at that point it took him little time to piece together that he shot him on purpose. His heart dropped into his stomach - or maybe that was just the feeling of his shredded innards shifting in his abdominal cavity - and he swallowed an agonized breath and screamed, earning him a kick to the side from the man.

"High-fat, but when did that ever stop me?" The man laughed. "What's your name?"

Sam grunted. "Why would I tell you?"

"Just thought we could make conversation." The man grabbed Sam and swung him over his shoulder with surprising ease, making him scream into his ear. "You are very loud. Maybe we'll talk more at my place."

The man started off in the other direction, further into the woods. Each step jostled Sam's injured belly, causing him to consistently groan as more blood spurted from his bullet hole, collecting on the man's clothes and drying on them. He observed the small puddle he left as he got carried off against his will for what seemed like an hour before finally reaching a cabin. The man unlocked the door and continued past the living room to the kitchen before plopping Sam in a large plastic tub on the middle counter.

Sam was breathing heavily, trying to ease the knot of agony inside him. He knew his aorta wasn't hit, because if it was then he would've bled out before he reached the cabin, but he did lose enough blood for him to be woozy. He had heard that it could take hours for a gut-shot person to die, and he knew that infection was as likely to kill him as blood loss was. He lifted his head to look at his wound and the dried blood around it. The man opened a drawer and came back with some tools, including a large combat knife. Sam's eyes widened upon seeing the knife.

"I can tell you're from out of town." The man approached Sam and looked into his eyes. "There have been a lot of disappearances around here; I'm surprised you didn't do more research. Of course, no remains were ever found, but neither were the people. The meat is easy enough to get rid of, but the bones take much longer to degrade, so you can't just toss those anywhere."

"Please." Sam started crying. "Whatever you're about to do to me, please just kill me before you do it."

The man smiled. "Sorry. The meal isn't the only part of the cuisine." He put his hands in a circle over Sam's wound and squeezed down, spurting more blood from it.

The pain was blinding, and Sam screamed more loudly than he ever had. The man smiled as he began dry-heaving, gagging and choking on nothing but his agony. He released his pressure and grabbed the combat knife.

"Last wishes?"

Sam cried some more. "Lay me out in front of the eclipse."

The man thought for a moment, then nodded. He brought the knife to Sam's navel and pressed, quickly breaking the skin and plunging inwards, severing more of his fat and intestines. Sam screamed once more before something broke within him, and he simply lied there, silently, still conscious and croaking as the man sliced his way through his digestive tract. His mind was regrettably clear as the man dragged the knife up and down, then pulled it out and let it clang to the side, covered in Sam's blood and waste.

The man reached into the wound with both hands, intermingling his hands with the organs underneath. Sam's deepest place was in someone else's hands in the most literal sense. He was paralyzed by the agony and weight of the experience, and he was only grateful when he felt a torrent of warm blood rush down his sides, spilling out of the fresh ruins of his gut. He knew he would die soon, and if it was possible, he did not want to be saved from his fate.

He finally felt his consciousness fade, lulling to a peaceful sleep for the last time. His last sight was of the man holding a large bullet to his face, the bullet that put him on the ground to begin with, and the agent of his demise. His thoughts drifted to space, how he hoped he would be one with the inner workings of the universe in his death, escaping the pain of mortality forever. His last thoughts, however, were not of the heavens, but of Wyatt, and how he was one of the first people in his life to make him feel not quite so ashamed of being human.

The local police recieved a call from a landline; an anonymous tip of something strange on a giant rock on the top of the hill. They arrived during the few minutes of totality, averting their eyes from the black sun as they approached the rock. They observed the body of a man in his twenties, shirtless in blood-soaked jeans and tennis shoes, with his arms to his side and part of his large intestine sitting on his naked torso. It was arranged in the shape of a heart, the bottom emanating from his torn navel and the tops circling his chest.

(This happens about a week after Punk Show. Wyatt and Melissa take Durk up on his offer to go to the local fight club for the weekend. Contains vomit and nipples.)

Wyatt, Melissa, and Durk all met up at an alleyway in front of a back door. Wyatt and Melissa looked around, nervous, and Durk laughed.

"We're good. This is where we need to be." Durk knocked on the door and was answered by someone in some kind of arcade uniform, who looked all three of them up and down.

"Hey, come on in."

They went inside, finding it to be relatively lit and almost windowless. It appeared to be some kind of half-used arcade or recreation center, with various appliances on the sides of the room. It was empty, save for the doorkeeper and a couple shirtless men heading down a staircase at the other side of the room. A set of lockers next to the staircase was labeled "No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem".

Durk led them to the lockers. "Alright, time to get almost half-naked. You guys can use my locker so you don't have to get your own."

All three of them bared their torsos and feet, putting shoes, shirts, socks, and even a bra in the locker. Melissa opted to be completely topless, counting on the others in the event to be open-minded enough to either accept or tolerate it.

Wyatt patted her shoulder. "You're good. Something tells me they're not gonna care."

Melissa smiled, stretching and making herself comfortable. "This is gonna be, interesting."

Durk stretched his muscular torso. "I'm gonna be honest, I'm a little nervous. I can't promise I won't vomit in front of you, so be warned."

Wyatt neglected to mention how arousing the image of that was. They started down the stairs and heard the noise of a small crowd talking. They reached the lower floor and saw the source of the noise: a bunch of men, various ages, various sizes, various pants, gathered around a circular spot on the floor, all with their nipples and bellies out. Wyatt savored the sight, while Melissa looked on with curiosity, learning as much as she could about the peculiar display. Durk immediately went up to one of them and hugged him, discussing the half-time entertainment.

Wyatt and Melissa stood next to each other, feeling exposed and awkward. Wyatt looked at Melissa. "I'm a little worried about the fights tonight."

"Really? You tanked a hit from Durk pretty well."

"No, he fucked me up. If any of these guys has half the strength he does, I might not be going home with all my organs functioning."

Melissa looked at his stomach. Wyatt was brunet, tanned, and fell somewhere between skinny and muscular. His abs were such that she could see the top ones, with a slight pouch of fat protecting his belly. "Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll have us fight each other. I mean, I've been in fights before, and I might break the skin, but I'm not very strong, so you have a shot at survival."

Wyatt laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

The intercom sounded and a voice boomed over the room, the voice of the guy in the uniform. "Happy Saturday! We have some newcomers today, give them a hand."

Everybody looked at Wyatt and Melissa as they applauded, prompting them both to smile nervously.

"And we've got Durk doing half-time tonight. Let's hope he can withstand everybody's wrath today, I know some of you have had a stressful week. Remember, Durk, we have that puke bucket ready so you don't have to clean it up yourself."

The crowd laughed, and Durk lowered his head and smiled. They formed a perfect circle around the ring before Wyatt and Melissa joined in. Two guys went into the circle and bumped fists before fighting. They mostly hit each other in the guts, interspersed with some face and pec hits. They avoided low-blows or hits to the sides of the ribs, but they still hit hard, and it wasn't long before they both stopped and went off to the nearby seats, sitting down to catch their breaths and survey their bruises.

"That doesn't seem so bad." Wyatt rubbed his own abs in anticipation for body blows.

"From the outside, but remember how deep some of those gut punches were." Melissa slapped his stomach lightly. "Imagine a bony, knuckly fist heading only one way, pushing all your insides elsewhere trying to make its way through you."

"Shut up." He slapped her hand away. "And with your belly, they're gonna be paying you special attention too."

Melissa's torso was deceptively soft. She had a slight belly, somewhat more prominent than Wyatt's, and her breasts were small but still tempting targets. She was naturally tan and her hair was long and brown, running straight down to her back. "I like special attention, but I guess we'll be finding out how much you like it."

Wyatt laughed, rubbing his stomach again as if someone was pulling it telekinetically. A few more fights went on, ending similarly, with varying degrees of defeat from one person or another, before the announcer chimed in.

"Time for our newcomers to play, then we'll move onto half-time. Come on, you two, don't be shy."

Both of their stomachs turned with adrenaline, simultaneously apprehensive and excited to fight each other in front of a bunch of equally topless strangers. They stood in the middle, bumped fists, and got into mediocre fighting stances. Wyatt put his fists in front of him and attempted to circle her, and Melissa extended her arms outwards, keeping her body away from any potential blows. They both knew exactly where to aim.

Wyatt approached her to try to hit her, and she blocked him with her flailing arms before sneaking underneath and punching him a few successive times in the gut. They weren't particularly hard, but he had somehow forgotten to tighten his abs before getting within melee range of her, so he felt the blows unabated. He pulled back and rubbed his stomach before continuing to circle her.

He knew better than to try to attack her again, so he waited for her to make a move before attempting a counterattack. She inched closer to him in intervals of a few seconds, prompting him to refresh his stance each time, much to her amusement. "You gonna hit me or just strongly consider it?"

A few laughs from the crowd made Wyatt flustered. "How about you? Afraid to come at me?"

"Nah." Melissa approached him, leaving herself open to a decisive gutpunch which seemed to sink into her bowels. She groaned a little, then lifted her head and smiled, grabbing his fist while still embedded and using it as leverage to return the favor. He tightened his abs a little too late, hardening them against her already present knuckles. He backed away, leaving her hunched over and favoring her stomach while he did the same.

"Shit." Wyatt's intestines readjusted in his naked belly. A few more punches like that would have him feeling how he did after Durk punched him at the show.

"Heh." Melissa wiped some spit off of her face. "If you wanted to get inside me so bad, you could've just asked."

Wyatt blushed again. He wasn't romantically interested in her, but he had the odd fantasy here or there. "You better hope I don't turn your reproductive organs to mush."

Melissa blushed as well, then came at him quickly, her hands in the shape of claws. He defended his stomach with his arms, so she went for his pecs, clenching her fingernails into them, earning a yelp from him. He pried her fingers off of him and rubbed his chest, so she went back to her original destination of his belly, squeezing between the spaces in his abs and putting pressure on his guts.

Wyatt hated the gut claws even more than he hated the pec claws, and he hunched over as she squeezed. She was borderline maniacal, enjoying tormenting him, knowing he could tap out at any time and simply chose not to. He grabbed her arms and kneed her in the stomach, jiggling her whole torso and making her spit in the air. Her eyes widened and she unclenched her fingers from his belly, holding his hips for support.

He gasped, worrying that he injured her with that blow. She looked up at him and raised her head, freaking him out until she brought it into his gut, using his love handles as leverage to keep him in place as she did it. He was completely unflexed, her forehead hitting him directly in the lower guts, making him withdraw and clasp his belly.

Melissa dropped to a knee, holding her midsection and sticking her tongue out repeatedly. "Puke bucket!" One of the men was already on his way with it when she called for it, and she hung her head over it for a dozen seconds before releasing into it, to the laughter and applause of the men.

Wyatt crawled over to her, still holding his belly. "Mel, I'm so sorry."

Melissa looked at him and smiled. "Don't be. That was fucking awesome."

Wyatt sighed in some relief, helping her to her feet and leaving the ring together. The announcer chimed in once more.

"Good show! Better keep that bucket handy, because it's time for Durk to get his treatment!"

The crowd clapped again and began lining up as Durk approached the large pole in the side of the room, getting his hands tied behind it by one of the other men. Wyatt and Melissa went closer to the front, not wanting to be the ones to potentially make him puke. Melissa grabbed a water bottle from off to the side to replenish her fluids before joining the line.

Durk was able to absorb the first few punches well enough, hard as they were, with his bulwark abdomen. Wyatt and Melissa hit him at half strength, while everyone behind them gave no quarter with their punches. He began breathing heavier and sweating more and more. By the time the last guy came up to him, he was on his last legs. The last guy was about as big and muscular as him, and wound up his fist for maximum power before sending it just above his navel.

He groaned loudly and his body twitched, preparing to expel its contents. Wyatt held up the bucket under his face, allowing him to projectile into it, mixing with Melissa's vomit. The smell made him vomit again, tears welling in his eyes as Wyatt pulled away and Melissa untied him, letting him slide to his knees and rub his reddened abdomen.

"Man." He lifted his head, vomit still dripping from his mouth. "I did NOT do enough conditioning."

All three of them laughed, then the two of them helped him to his feet and to the water bottles.

"I knew he was gonna have you two fight. Your stance could use some work though." Durk took a swig from his water bottle and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Melissa laughed. "I'm surprised you fucking kneed me. Didn't know you had it in you."

Wyatt rubbed the back of his head, showing his pit. "Somehow I'm less surprised you tried to claw my insides out."

"Trust me, if I wanted your insides on the outside, they'd be on the outside." She patted his stomach again. "Nah, I like having you around, for now."

They all laughed, then watched the rest of the fights that night before heading back to the lockers. They slipped their clothes back on and went back into the alleyway.

"That happens every weekend, right?" Wyatt lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his own face. "Would we be able to come back?"

Durk laughed. "Of course. Same time, every Saturday night. Obviously sometimes we'll be playing that night but still."

"Sounds fun." Melissa rubbed her belly some more, exposed by her slightly cropped shirt. "For now, I need a shower, and maybe a massage."

"Yep. Sounds about right."

They all left in different directions to go home, and spent the rest of the night favoring their bellies to lull themselves to sleep.

(Wyatt goes to Sam's house for a visit. This story contains nudity and the characters fantasize about gore.)

After the school year, Wyatt had stayed in touch with Sam, chatting occasionally and mulling over the possibility of meeting up. They were unclear over whether it would be platonic or sexual, or both. They both believed that the ambiguity was part of the fun. One day, they finally met up at Sam's place while his family was away, leaving them both to their own devices.

Wyatt knocked on the door and was greeted by Sam, wearing jeans and a thin tank top. Wyatt himself was wearing a yellow t-shirt and skinny jeans.

"Hey man, come on in." The living room was pristine, everything neat and in its place as if it was a scene for a commercial. "You can just come on to my room. Don't wanna mess with anything in here."

They both went to his room which, apart from the light clutter, was just as clean as the common room. They both sat down on the bed. "You have no idea what I had to pull to get permission for you to be here. I had to give my mom your phone number, your whole background. You're lucky I didn't know your address or social security."

Wyatt chuckled. "Why do you still need your mom's permission? We're both adults."

"Well that's the question, isn't it?" Sam shrugged in aggravation. "My mom has a way of making you feel like you can't say no. She kinda finds herself past your boundaries, forcing you to push her back if you don't actually want them crossed."

"That must be fun."

"No kidding. I fucking hate living here sometimes. I love my family but they drive me crazy. I miss the dorms, and I'm glad I get to go back soon."

"Is that why you wanted to live in a dorm?"

Sam sighed. "All my life, I've been bogged down by responsibility, no matter how much I've tried to escape it. That's part of the reason why I love space, and hopefully get to go one day. Lesser minds are scared of it, all that nothingness, but I see salvation, liberation. They think it makes us insignificant, but I think it's calling to us."

Wyatt stared blankly. "I might be scared of it, but I definitely don't think it makes us insignificant. Just because we're small doesn't mean we're worthless. Even supermassive black holes are small compared to the amount of empty space in the universe."

Sam smiled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you were a lesser mind. Maybe I shouldn't be so judgemental. I'm tired of being marooned in this house, in this country, on this planet, when I know I could make it in greater places."

"Some would call you an escapist." Wyatt chuckled. "I wouldn't, but some would."

"Some could suck it." Sam turned on his TV. "Wanna watch me play video games with my shirt off?"

"Absolutely!" Wyatt didn't bother concealing his excitement.

They both took their shirts off, sitting next to each other with their torsos bare. At one point, Wyatt sat behind Sam and started touching his body, rubbing on his belly and pecs. Sam would be distracted by the intimate contact, falling and dying more than once, especially when Wyatt fingered his belly button.

"Gonna be your turn soon." Sam turned his head partially to address Wyatt. "I hope you like me groping you."

Wyatt laughed. "Don't threaten me with a good time. And it's not my fault you have such nice tits."

Sam burst into laughter. "Sorry, I've just never thought of them that way."

"Well I have." Wyatt thought for a moment. "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"If you were gonna kill me, how would you do that?"

Sam paused the game, then turned to look at him. "Like, for business or for pleasure."

"Mmm, both."

Sam turned fully around. "Well, for business, I'd probably just put you under a hanging heavy object and drop it on you. Depending on how heavy it was, your body and brain would be mush before any of your pain receptors got the chance to relay the information."

"Merciful. Interesting."

"Of course, but that's business." Sam touched Wyatt's belly, earning him a quiver. "As for pleasure, I'd put you under my boot and slowly crush your stomach. I'd put all of my weight on you until your abs couldn't take it anymore. Then, as the finishing touch, I'd stomp you really hard one good time with all of my weight. With luck, your guts would shoot out of your ass."

Wyatt's penis swelled like a balloon. He hadn't anticipated an answer involving his insides, but it was a pleasant surprise. "Holy shit. That's really fucking hot."

Sam sighed in relief. "I'm glad. I'm also glad I didn't scare you off with that. So, how would you kill me?"

Wyatt lied down, letting Sam continue to play with his body as he answered. "I'd throw you on the bed, or any surface, grab a large knife and stab you right in the belly button. I'd make the hole deep enough so it goes into your abdominal cavity, and wide enough to fit my hand in. Then I'd stick my hand in the hole, digging until I reach your intestines, then grab a loop and pull it out. I wouldn't completely disembowel you, just grab that loop and lead you around with it. If you didn't come with, or couldn't, I'd just hand it to you and force you to hold it to keep it from falling on the ground."

Sam almost came in his jeans as he said that. He had no idea he could have such fantasies in the first place, but he felt he found a kindred spirit in him. He stared at him with his mouth partially open.

Wyatt laughed. "That good, huh?"

"Oh, oh yeah, that good indeed. I kinda wish you would do that to me."

He put his finger in his belly button. "But then you'd probably die, or at least, you'd have to explain to your parents how your insides ended up on the outside, and it'd be this whole thing."

"Yeah." Sam seemed almost genuinely disappointed. "Maybe one day we'll be immortal, or can regenerate flesh very quickly, and then we can fuck each other up as much as we want. Maybe I'd stab you and stick my dick in the hole."

"Oh God, yes. Cum in between the slices in my intestines. Let the blood, shit, and cum mix together.

"You're so beautiful when you talk like that." Sam caressed his face. "I'd lay out your whole digestive system while you sucked me off."

"Then maybe I'd stab you, too, and then we'd tie our severed guts in a knot so we'd die tied together."

"Oh shit." Sam moaned and his eyes rolled backwards. He came in his jeans, soaking through his underwear and leaving a damp spot on his jeans. He blushed.

"It's okay. I'll join you."

Wyatt pulled his pants down, unsheathing his long member. A few strokes of it was all that was needed to launch cream in Sam's direction, who stood in front of it and let it hit his body. A few seconds later, they both laughed, and began picking up their soiled clothes. Wyatt put his jeans back on, while Sam put on a pair of fresh shorts.

"I think you should wash my jeans, since you're the one who made me cum." Sam handed him the bag he put his jeans in.

Wyatt laughed. "If you want them, you better come and get them when you come to my place."

They spent the rest of the day still shirtless until it was time for Wyatt to go back home. They hugged and parted ways for the day, thoroughly enjoying the time they spent together.

(This is the very short conclusion to Break-In. Mostly to wrap up the story, not much action, just a little dialogue and puke.)

Hector woke up on a hospital bed to a deep pain in his gut. He looked around the room and saw Jonas sitting on a chair, clasping his own stomach, facing away. The white tank top he was wearing was thin enough to show the outline of his nipples and the healing bruise on the center of his gut. A groan or two from Hector alerted him and he immediately hugged him.

"Careful. I feel a little queasy." He turned his head and started convulsing. Jonas hurriedly grabbed the nearby trashcan and put it under his mouth, allowing him to hurl into it. A couple streams of red-tinted puke that he originally kept down were free from his stomach. Jonas wiped his mouth off with a napkin, making him smile.

"It's so good to see you again."

"Hector..." Jonas started tearing up. "I love you, and not just as a friend. I love you completely. When you were gone, I thought I'd never see you again, that I'd never get a chance to tell you how I feel. I was a coward. I am a coward. I'm so fucking scared, I could barely leave the house to come see you. And you always tell me that I'm supposed to be self-sufficient, that I'm supposed to be okay by myself, but I'm not. I hate it here. I hate this world. It's so cold and cruel and terrifying, but not you. Everything is okay as long as I have you."

Hector began crying as well. "I definitely didn't expect you to say it out loud." He laughed. "But I knew you love me. And I knew I do, too. And you're not a coward. You came here to see me, and you told me this."

"It took you literally getting kidnapped."

"But you still did it." Hector coughed to the side. "And I know you're scared. And I know I'm gonna be scared as soon as my body realizes I got kidnapped by a sadist with a belly fixation." He laughed again. "But I know neither one of us is a fucking coward. We'll do whatever it takes. And we'll see the sun again."

Jonas leaned over to kiss him. They could both taste the bile, but it wasn't enough to bring them apart until they were satisfied. It was their first kiss, and every bodily fluid in the world wasn't going to ruin it. When they finally parted lips, they both felt much better, physically and mentally.

"So what's my prognosis? Please tell me I'm not dying."

Jonas laughed. "You'll be fine. You actually fared better than me. Just don't eat solid foods for a while."

Hector sighed. "I want to go home."

"You'll be getting discharged soon. Then we can both go home, and be scared together."

"Together. I like that."

(This is the first of a new series involving Wyatt from the Sam stories, mostly focusing on him being shirtless with the odd gutpunch elements thrown in there from time to time. These will be a combination of my previous works and the slice-of-life genre. Punk Show takes place on the same night as Repayment, while Sam was attacked by the "debt collector".)

"Is he cute?" Melissa was Wyatt's friend since high school, and she was also the second member of their band. Durk, the third, was the drummer, and relatively new to both of them. They were all at Melissa's apartment, stalling a bit before heading to a show.

"Actually, yeah. He's nice and chubby." Wyatt was talking about Sam, his current college roommate.

"Bet you wanna suck on his titties."

"You're the one obsessed with nipples! Yours, mine, Durk's."

Durk laughed. "Hey, if someone throws me money, I must just show off my naturals tonight." He was buff and in his late twenties, with a perpetual five o'clock shadow.

"Eh, good chance I'll take mine off either way. It's freeing, and vulnerable."

"You're a slut." Melissa lamented. "Unlike you, I don't have the privilege to show my nipples."

"You know they probably wouldn't care if you took your bra off, right?"

"I mean..." Melissa rubbed her arms, anticipating the sense of exposure. "Maybe some other time."

They all laughed, and to that, they left Melissa's apartment for the venue. In proper fashion, it was a small house by the railroad tracks, populated in and out by various punks, goths, and their friends. The vibes were well enough; most people were there to either drink or play, or both. Wyatt's unnamed band was on first, and when they went on, they all looked at each other and removed their shirts, earning playful whistles from the audience. Melissa still had on an pink bra, and Durk was surprisingly muscular, sporting a six pack and huge arms.

They only played a couple songs, plus a prototypical track, all original, if a bit usual. Wyatt sung and screamed, Melissa played the guitar, and Durk drummed, all sweaty in the packed living room. After their set, they packed up their equipment and joined some of the folks in the backyard.

"I'm glad it's almost fall." Wyatt wiped the sweat from his face and chest. "It's so fucking hot in there."

Melissa joined him, followed by Durk. "Nice set tonight. You also sang well."

Wyatt thought for a minute, then laughed. "Funny." He looked at Durk. "Also, holy shit, I did not know you were ripped."

Durk laughed and hid his face a little. "Yeah, I recently started eating better, and I've been doing at-home workouts a lot. Prepping for a thing I'm doing with some guys."

"What kind of thing?"

"Uh, a recreational thing. Buncha guys, and others, get together once a week."

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "It's not an orgy, is it?"

Durk laughed. "Nah, nah, nothing like that. Besides, you wouldn't need to work out for an orgy. Nah, just some hand-to-hand combat. Think a fight club, but more tame."

Wyatt thought for a minute. "Are there any requirements?"

"Just that you gotta be comfortable hitting and getting hit." Durk slapped his six-pack. "Sometimes, during half-time, they tie somebody to a pole and take turns punching them hard in the abs. I volunteered this time, so I'm gonna get hit. People place bets on whether you give up, whether you throw up, that kind of thing."

Wyatt didn't want to admit it, but he was intrigued, having to cross his legs a little to hide his growing erection.

Melissa had been friends with Wyatt long enough to recognize his body language. "Do you think we could come to the next gathering?"

"Oh yeah, if you want. Just behave, and keep all fights in the ring. You could even go topless if you wanted. Some guys do naked fights, but I like to keep my pants on. Oh, and no shirts or shoes. That's the other thing. So if you go, better be comfortable shirtless and barefoot. They're doing it inside, so don't worry about glass or anything."

"Well, that's not a problem, is it, Wyatt?"

Wyatt shot her a half-glare. "As a matter of fact, it's not. I'm very comfortable with myself. I don't know if I could do that pole thing, at least not yet, but a good match doesn't sound too bad."

"That's what it's about." Durk looked at Wyatt and his partially defined abdomen. "I could teach you some conditioning, or at least hit you a few times just to give you an idea of how it feels."

Wyatt thought about it. The prospect of Durk punching him in the gut was strangely alluring, and he was excited to see him getting worked over at the gathering. "I dunno, I'm a little worried you're gonna impale me with those arms."

"Up to you." Durk shrugged. "I know how to pull punches, and I'm definitely not gonna hurt you on purpose."

Wyatt thought some more. "You know what, yeah. Why not?" They both went to the corner of the backyard and Wyatt prepared, stretching his body and tightening his abs. Melissa hurriedly got out her phone and started recording with a shit-eating grin on her face. Wyatt glared, then flipped off the camera. Durk joined him and readied his fist, then punched him directly on his navel, Wyatt absorbing it well enough.

"That wasn't so bad."

"That was a light hit." Durk raised his fist a little higher, then hit him a few more times, resulting in some grunts and hisses. "You're taking hits pretty well, but you should also be able to take some hits unflexed, just in case you can't anticipate an attack."

Wyatt sighed and raised his head. "Alright, if you insist." He relaxed his abs, leaving his belly completely vulnerable. Durk pulled back and sent a light jab into him, which smacked into the center of his belly and went in a little deeper, forcing some wind out of him and causing him to bend a little.

"Not bad." Durk patted Wyatt's back in congratulation. "It's important to keep in mind where your organs are in your body. The lungs and heart are protected by your ribs, but they can break if hit hard enough. The gut is soft and malleable, but your stomach and intestines are in there and vulnerable to damage if you aren't careful. You don't wanna have to explain to a doctor that you're bleeding on the inside because you and your sparring partner got a little too excited."

Wyatt laughed, then smiled. "Guess my intestines must be pretty strong on their own." He looked over at Melissa, still holding the camera. "You should try this!"

She laughed. "Now you should see if you can take a full-strength hit from him."

Wyatt's eyes widened and he guarded his stomach reactively. Durk laughed and shook his head.

"Nah, you'd definitely pop something. You need a lot more training before one of those."

Wyatt took some offense to the statement. "I mean, I'm not that weak. I'm pretty fit."

"Fit for consumption." Melissa barely bothered to mutter. "It's okay, you don't have to be strong. We love you just the way you are."

Wyatt glared again. "I could probably take you, and I wouldn't go down just from a thump in the tummy. I'm not that skinny."

"You don't have anything to prove. Just do some sit-ups and practice with a partner and you'll be fine." Durk stretched his own body, showing his hairy pits and pulling his nipples further up his pecs.

"Well, now I feel like I do. Go ahead and hit me as hard as you can, right in the belly." Wyatt smacked his gut where his belly button was.

Durk looked him up and down. "Yeah, I'm not doing that, but I'll hit you at about fifty percent."

"Fine. But I'm not flexing."

Durk sighed. "Have it your way."

He grabbed Wyatt's sides, positioning him properly for a wind-up. He pulled back his fist, and Wyatt just stared at him, not wanting to instinctively flex when he saw the fist coming. After a few practice wind-ups, he finally threw the punch. His fist buried itself briefly in Wyatt's unprotected gut, smacking into his intestines and pushing them backwards or to the side. His cheeks swelled up with air as it was expelled from his body. His mouth was agape, and he clasped his stomach as soon as Durk withdrew his fist.

He fell on his knees for a moment, inhaling painfully and trying to survey the damage to his innards. He could feel his intestines squirming in his belly from the blow, but apart from the pain, he felt normal. He continued to grasp his belly as if he had been stabbed in it.

"Oh shit, are you okay?" Melissa had begun to regret goading him into accepting the punch.

Continuing to focus on his breathing, Wyatt nodded, then, reconsidering, shrugged.

Durk walked over to and stood behind him. "How's the pain?"

He slowly looked up at him. "F- five."

"Out of ten?"

Wyatt nodded, frowning.

Durk laughed. "Yup, that sounds about right." He patted his back. "You'll be fine. Just ride it out."

Melissa was relieved by his prognosis. "Do you feel proven yet?"

Wyatt removed one hand to hold up a middle finger, then to push himself back up to his feet. He was hunched, and he leaned himself on the wooden fence for support, but he was upright.

Durk put his arm around his shoulders. "The last guy I did that to had to drink smoothies for a week. You look better off than he did, so maybe you do have some strong guts."

Melissa brought the camera down to Wyatt's belly, observing the redness around it. "Yeah, if they're still intact."

Wyatt looked at both of them and smiled, holding up a peace sign. Once again, his legs were closed, hiding a massive hard-on. "Man, that was, something else. Definitely not gonna drink anything tonight."

"Oh yeah, water will do you some good." Durk went to a nearby cooler and grabbed a water bottle. "We've all been there."

Wyatt drank little sips of cold water which traveled down into his stomach, cooling his body and soothing his bellyache. He periodically massaged his gut in an effort to encourage his insides to recover. Melissa stopped recording and put her phone back in her purse with the cadence of a thief storing a freshly stolen diamond.

Wyatt laughed. "You're sick, you know that?"

Melissa glanced at his red belly. "Not as sick as you with that tummy ache."

"I learned my lesson."

The rest of the night was spent drinking water and hearing the other bands play in the background before they headed back to Melissa's apartment. They all had a sleepover and fell asleep cuddling on the same couch; Wyatt laid on the space between Durk's legs, and Melissa laid her head on Wyatt's stomach, using it as a pillow.