35: Colt & Jacob (Upper West Side)

The outline for this story was developed in collaboration with a member who prefers to remain anonymous. The story itself was then written by me, using several of my own characters who have previously appeared in Leo’s stories. 

If you’re interested in collaborating on your own story, please fill out this form with all your depraved details. Your ideas could inspire Leo’s next steamy adventure.

A note from the author: This story is meant to serve as fantasy only. The events depicted in this story, if exercised in real life, are very dangerous. I do not recommend attempting to recreate these events yourself. Unintended consequences of playing while unconscious could include serious injury or death.

◾

My phone buzzed in my pocket as the 6 train rattled downtown. I glanced up, making sure no one was watching before I checked the message. Force of habit, even though most New Yorkers wouldn't bat an eye if I was scrolling through actual murder plans.

It was from Colt.

Been too long since anyone's rearranged my insides. My gut's aching for it. Need someone who knows how to go deep.

I felt a slow heat spread through my chest. Colt wasn't one for small talk – never had been. The big Texan got straight to the point, and his point was usually buried knuckle-deep in a man's intestines.

I typed back quickly: When are you free next?

Three dots appeared. Colt was typing. I watched the animation pulse, my thumb hovering over the screen. The subway lurched forward, picking up speed as we entered the tunnel between stations. The signal bars at the top of my phone disappeared one by one.

"Shit," I muttered.

The three dots vanished along with my connection. I stared at the blank screen, willing the train to hurry. Something about Colt's message had struck a nerve – the deep need in it. He wasn't just looking for a session. He was hungry for it. Goddamn I wanted to be a part of it.

The train seemed to crawl through the darkness. I shifted in my seat, suddenly aware of the hollow feeling in my own gut. It had been weeks since I'd taken any real punishment. Longer since I'd given it to someone who could handle what I offered.

And Colt could handle it. That thick, muscular belly of his was basically made for abuse – the way he softens his substantial abs so they give freely under a strong fist, the way he moans when you find just the right spot. My hand tightened around my phone.

Outside the windows, the darkness of the tunnels gave way to the dingy brightness of the station. Other passengers gathered their things, ready to exit. I stayed seated, eyes fixed on my phone, waiting for those signal bars to reappear.

The train slowed. Light flooded the car. One bar. Two bars. Three. My phone vibrated immediately.

I’m free tonight if you know how to use me.

I exhaled slowly, aware that my heart rate had picked up. Tonight. Not next week or this weekend. Tonight.

I typed back: I'll be there. Hope you're ready to fold.

His reply came instantly: More than ready. Bring those fists. My gut needs them.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, fighting a smile. There was something about Colt – the contrast between his size and his submission, the way his handsome face scrunched and teeth bore when he was hurting. The memory of his abs relaxing under my knuckles made my mouth go dry.

The subway doors closed. We pulled away from the station, but I barely noticed. My mind was already with Colt's gut, watching him lift his shirt, seeing that perfect belly exposed and waiting.

Eight o'clock. Four hours from now.

Four hours until I'd have those abs softening under my fist. Four hours until I'd hear that deep voice crack as I buried a punch in his belly.

Four hours suddenly felt like forever.

I stepped out at Union Square, phone still clutched in my hand. The evening air hit my face as I navigated through the rush hour crowd, my mind fixed on Colt's gut and what I'd do to it later.

My phone buzzed again.

Been thinking. Want to up the ante tonight.

I stopped at the corner, waiting for a cab to cross my path at the light. What did you have in mind?

The reply came quickly: Need something more brutal than usual. Something that'll wreck me.

I started walking again, weaving between pedestrians: I can go harder. You know I don't hold back.

Not just harder, Colt replied. Different. Been fantasizing about someone jumping on my intestines. Or maybe dropping a weight on my bowels. Something that'll reach deeper than fists.

I raised an eyebrow, picturing Colt's muscular body laid out, that soft belly exposed and vulnerable. The image sent heat through me. The big guy wasn't playing around tonight.

You want to feel destroyed, huh? I replied noncommittally as I tried to think of something.

Need it. Been too long since I felt anything sublime. Want my guts rearranged so bad I can't stand after.

I walked down 14th Street, my pace quickening. There was something about his desperation that hit me right in the chest; that raw need for punishment that went beyond the usual limits.

Your gut can take that kind of abuse?

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared. My gut's begging for it. Just don't know exactly what I want. Just know I need to be folded worse than ever. Cock's raging just thinking about it.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Colt wanted something different, something beyond what we'd done before. I could give him that.

What if I tied you up? Gagged you so the neighbors don't call the cops. Get you high on poppers and spend an hour boxer-punching those bowels until they're liquid.

I waited, watching the three dots pulse. My pulse quickened just imagining it – Colt's muscular body restrained, that soft belly completely at my mercy while I worked it over methodically. No breaks, no mercy. Just an hour of deep, focused intestinal destruction.

Jesus fuck. That's insanely hot. We WILL do that soon. Another message followed quickly: But I got another idea.

I raised an eyebrow. I'm listening.

Gonna hit the gym first. Work up a good sweat. Want my body pumped up and primed when you start rearranging my insides. I'll come to your place right after all warmed up and ready.

The image hit me hard – Colt walking through my door with his shirt clinging to his broad chest, that musky gym scent still on him, his muscular physique pumped up and hot. The contrast between his worked-up muscles and the way his gut would yield under my fist made me yearn for him immediately.

Perfect. I'll be waiting. Your gut better be ready.

It fuckin will be. You're gonna beat me up good, I know it.

I pocketed my phone, becoming aware of how much faster I was walking. The thought of Colt showing up at my door, that big body ready for punishment, had me buzzing. I'd have to prepare. This wasn't going to be a light session.

I checked my watch. Still three hours until he'd arrive. Three hours to think about exactly how I wanted to take him apart. How I'd make him fold and beg. How I'd work those guts until he couldn't remember his own name.

Three hours suddenly felt like nothing. Not nearly enough time to plan all the ways I was going to destroy that beautiful gut.

I used the time to change clothes and do a light workout with my home equipment. I paced my apartment, checking the time every few minutes. My place was tidy, but my mind was anything but. The thought of Colt's gut – soft and waiting – had me on edge. When the buzzer finally rang, my heart jumped and it felt as though my own gut hollowed out.

I swung the door open to find Colt filling the frame, exactly as I'd imagined. His gray tank top clung to his broad chest, dark with sweat. His scent hit me immediately – pure male musk, sharp and heady.

"Hey," he said, voice low. 

"Hey yourself." I stepped back to let him in. As he passed, we dapped and I caught another wave of his gym scent. My hand instinctively reached for his side, feeling the hard muscle beneath his damp shirt.

Colt turned into me slightly, letting my palm slide across his abs. Even through the fabric, I could feel how pumped he was – how the workout had brought blood to the surface, making everything feel harder, hotter.

"Fuck, I missed you," he murmured, turning so my hand slipped lower, finding the soft curve of his lower belly and down to his groin. Even tense from the workout, there was give there – that perfect pocket of vulnerability just below his navel.

I pressed my fingers in experimentally. A small moan escaped his throat.

"Sensitive already?" I asked, applying more pressure.

"Been thinking about this all day," he admitted. "My gut's been aching every time I picture what you're gonna do to it."

I withdrew my hand, curious. "Yeah… what's your idea?"

Colt's expression settled. He stepped back, running a hand through his damp buzz cut. "Yeah. About that." He took a breath. "Don't freak out, but I've been fantasizing about something really specific. Really wild."

I raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I want you to choke me out," he said, his voice steady despite the intensity of the request. "And then, while I'm unconscious, I want you to boxer-punch my insides like you said."

I processed. "You want me to punch you while you're out?"

He nodded, eyes never leaving mine. "I want to wake up and discover what you did – feel my intestines aching without knowing exactly how they got that way." He placed a hand on his own belly, pressing in slightly. "I want my bowels beaten so brutally that my guts ache for a week afterward."

The request hung between us. It wasn't the first time we'd pushed boundaries, but this was different – a level of trust and risk that made my chest tight.

"I know it's a lot," Colt continued, reading my hesitation. "But I trust you, Leo. More than anyone, for something like this."

I swallowed. "It's not just the unconscious part. The level of force you're asking for – "

"I can take it," he interrupted. "You know I'm built for this."

He stepped closer, his broad frame radiating heat. "And I was thinking – maybe bring someone else in. Another guy who knows what he's doing. If you trust him, I trust him. Both of you working me over while I'm out. But you're in charge."

The image flashed through my mind – Colt's muscular body limp, his belly completely vulnerable as two sets of fists took turns rearranging his insides. It was… intensely erotic.

"Who did you have in mind?" I asked, buying time to think.

Colt's eyes gleamed. "That's the thing. I hoped you'd know someone. Someone you trust with this."

I ran a hand over my face, feeling the weight of what he was asking. This wasn't just about pushing limits – it was about complete surrender.

I paced for a moment, trying to ignore the tightness in my jeans. What Colt was asking for went beyond our usual sessions – beyond anything we'd done before. But the thought of his muscular body completely surrendered, that perfect gut waiting for punishment while he was out cold... my cock throbbed at the image.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" I asked, studying his face. "Unconscious is a whole other level."

Colt stepped closer, his broad chest nearly touching mine now. I was getting lost again in the smell of his body and the sweat on his skin.

"Please, Leo," he begged, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I want to experience this at least once. So badly." His blue eyes locked with mine, pupils dilated with arousal. "I need my guts beaten while I'm completely defenseless. Need to wake up and feel what happened without knowing exactly how it went down. Just aching pain."

My heart raced as I negotiated in my head how badly I wanted to do this, but how dangerous it sounded. The desperation in his voice was real – raw and hungry.

"Alright," I said finally. "I know someone who might be up to help me with this. Let me check."

I pulled out my phone with a smirk, scrolling to a contact I hadn't messaged in months: Jacob. The stocky, bearded dom who'd punched my guts to oblivion over a few late-night Central Park sessions, deep in the woods.

I hit send, expecting to wait. Instead, my phone buzzed almost immediately.

Fuck yes, Jacob replied to my proposition. When?

I glanced at Colt, who was watching me with hungry anticipation. Tonight. He's already warmed up.

Jacob's reply came seconds later: My place. Upper West Side. 78th and Broadway. Bring him sweaty. I want to smell you both when you arrive.

I showed Colt the message. "Jacob's a serious puncher. Knows exactly how to work a gut. You sure you're ready for both of us?"

Colt's hand moved to his belly, pressing in slightly. "My guts are fuckin’ aching for it." He stepped another inch closer, until I could feel the heat radiating off his pumped body. "Let's go."

I nodded, grabbing my keys. My heart hammered against my ribs as we headed for the door. Tonight, Colt's fantasy would become reality – and I'd be the one to deliver it.

We grabbed the subway at Union Square, taking the L to the A, both of us quiet with anticipation. Colt kept catching my eye, each of us trying not to snicker the whole way, like we were carrying a secret from the other passengers on the subway. His tank top clung to his broad chest, still damp from his earlier workout. Every time the train jolted, our shoulders bumped, and I caught another whiff of his musky scent.

"You nervous?" I asked as we transferred to the uptown A train.

Colt shook his head. "Not nervous. Hungry." His hand brushed his own belly unconsciously. "Been wishing for this for so long."

We exited at 59th Street and jogged the remaining blocks to Jacob's apartment so we could both be sweaty and pumped on arrival, the cool night air doing nothing to dry the sweat forming on my skin. By the time we reached Jacob's building, we were both panting, our tanks clinging to our torsos.

Jacob buzzed us up immediately. When the elevator doors opened on his floor, I saw him waiting in his doorway – shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His stocky frame was exactly as I remembered: powerful arms, broad chest covered in dark hair, and that soft, rounded belly that he never bothered to tighten.

"Fuck," Colt whispered beside me, clearly appreciating the view.

Jacob's eyes widened slightly as we approached, taking in Colt's impressive physique. "Well damn," he said, his voice low and measured. "You didn't tell me you were bringing a fucking specimen, Leo."

I grinned. "Jacob, this is Colt. Colt, Jacob."

Jacob stepped aside to let us in, shutting the door behind us. His apartment was minimalist but comfortable – dim lighting, a large couch, and what looked like a weight bench in the corner.

"Nice to finally meet you," Jacob said with a devious smirk, circling Colt slowly, openly appraising him. "Leo told me about your gut. Said it was built for punishment."

Colt turned, tracking Jacob's movement. "That right?"

"Mmm," Jacob hummed, stopping in front of Colt. "You're even more impressive in person. Love a man with muscle who knows how to let it go soft when he submits." Jacob glanced at me as he said this, then back to Colt. Jacob reached out, his thick fingers hovering just inches from Colt's midsection. "May I?"

Colt nodded, his chest rising with a deep breath. He spread his arms out to his sides, welcoming Jacob into his gut.

Jacob's hand pressed against Colt's abdomen, fingers stretched across the tank top. "Fuck," he murmured, pushing in slightly. "Flex. Show me these abs."

Colt did as he was told, his six pack popping through the tank. After a moment taking in the solidity of Colt’s well-worked muscle, he commanded the jock to relax. Again, Colt replied with a deep Yessir, and Jacob and I watched as Colt’s belly gently bulged out, his muscles relaxed and his guts pushing the wall of muscle out.

I leaned against the wall, watching the erotic tension build between them. They were circling each other now, like wrestlers before a match – Jacob stocky and powerful, Colt taller and broader, both of them eyeing the other's body with undisguised hunger.

"You think you can take what I'm gonna give that belly?" Jacob asked, his bearded face breaking into a grin.

Colt's eyes narrowed as he smirked. "Question is whether your fists can dig deep enough inside me."

Jacob laughed – a low, dangerous sound. "Oh, I'll get in there alright. Been wrecking guts like yours for years. Love how they get soft and sloppy when I work 'em over."

Jacob briefly glanced at me as he said it, again.

Colt lifted his tank slightly to reveal his six-pack, "I know how to relax completely." As if to demonstrate, he exhaled fully, and I watched as his defined stomach softened visibly, the ridges melting into a slight bulge, his six pack now still visible, but clearly entirely softened.

Jacob's eyes zeroed in. "Fuck, that's beautiful. A gut that knows what it's for." He stepped closer, one hand reaching out to trace the line down the center of Colt's abs. "These are gonna disappear real quick once I start beating what's behind them."

"Counting on it," Colt said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Been needing someone to punch these guts stupid for too long now."

Jacob glanced at me, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "You brought me a fucking gift, Leo."

I pushed off the wall, joining their circle. "So we doing this or what?"

Jacob stepped back, arms crossed over his broad chest, his muscular pecs inflating. "Both of you. Naked. Now."

My eyes met Colt's for a brief second as we both complied. I peeled my damp tank top over my head, tossing it to the floor. Colt did the same, revealing his impressive torso – thick pecs dusted with hair that narrowed to a trail disappearing into his shorts.

We stripped our running shorts next. My cock sprang free, already half-hard from the anticipation. Colt's was the same – thick and heavy between his muscular thighs. The air in the apartment felt charged, filled with our musk, the fragrance making me ache for a green light to begin tearing into Colt’s stomach.

Jacob kept his pants on, his gray sweatpants tented with his own arousal. A small dark spot of precum had already begun to form at the tip, staining the fabric.

"Come here," Jacob said to me, opening his arms.

I stepped into his embrace unsure what to expect, feeling his warm, hairy chest against mine. His arms wrapped around my back, strong and secure. For a moment, it felt almost tender – then his right arm shifted.

Without warning, Jacob's fist drove a deep uppercut into the pit of my stomach. I’d been hoping I’d get a good shot to the intestines at some point, so I’d been keeping my abs soft. Jacob’s fist hit critical depth against my soft six pack, caving in the relaxed blocks of muscle still visible across my belly.

HUHGH– I doubled slightly, but his left arm kept me upright.

“Fuuuck, yeah,” Colt said, before visibly and completely relaxing his abs as he took a few deep breaths, waiting for his own beating.

Jacob released me with a knowing smile, then turned his full attention to Colt. Their eyes locked, predator to prey.

Jacob's eyes stayed locked on Colt's, intensity radiating between them. Jacob took a look at Colt and then, without looking away, Jacob jerked his chin toward a side table.

"Leo, grab those poppers."

I spotted the small brown bottle and snatched it up, the glass cool against my palm. Jacob extended his hand backward, still not breaking his stare-down with Colt.

"Here," I said, placing the bottle in his waiting hand.

Jacob's thick fingers closed around it. "Now get behind him. Put him in a headlock."

I moved behind Colt, sliding my arm around his thick neck. Not tight – just enough to hold him in place. Colt gave that cocky smirk I knew so well, his body relaxing into my grip. The heat from his workout-warmed skin radiated against my forearm.

Jacob uncapped the bottle with his thumb. "Open up," he commanded, bringing the poppers to Colt's face.

Colt tilted his head forward toward the bottle, nostrils flaring as Jacob positioned the bottle beneath one nostril. He inhaled deeply, then switched to the other, taking long pulls that made his chest expand. Back and forth, again and again, each inhale deeper than the last.

"Good boy," Jacob murmured, his free hand rubbing Colt’s soft belly. "Fuck, look at that."

I felt Colt's body shift as Jacob's palm pressed against his stomach, feeling Colt’s abs completely surrender, melting into softness under his touch as the poppers flooded Colt's head and body.

Jacob's gaze stayed locked on Colt's abs as the poppers took effect. Colt's head fell back against my shoulder, a low moan escaping his throat as his entire body seemed to melt into a more pliant version of itself.

"That's it," Jacob murmured, both hands now sliding up Colt's exposed belly. "Look at this fucking masterpiece."

I peered over Colt's shoulder, watching as Jacob's thick fingers traced the contours of his abdomen. Even relaxed, the ghost of Colt's six-pack remained visible – faint ridges beneath skin that had gone completely soft.

"Been waiting to feel those knuckles in my guts," Colt slurred, the poppers making his voice thick.

Jacob glanced up at me with a wicked grin. "Hold him steady."

I tightened my grip around Colt's shoulders as Jacob took a step back, measuring his distance. His meaty fist clenched, and without warning, he drove it deep into the pocket just below Colt's navel.

The punch disappeared into Colt's abdomen like it was sinking into Jell-O, Colt’s intestines bearing the full force of Jacob’s punch. With no abs to protect his guts, Colt’s belly was completely pliant and loose, violently concaving with the force of Jacob’s fist. I felt the impact travel through Colt's entire frame – a violent shudder as his organs compressed against his spine. His gut caved inward, forming a deep hollow around Jacob's buried knuckles.

UGH– Colt's grunt was primal, guttural. His knees buckled slightly, but I held him upright.

Jacob withdrew slowly, his eyes gleaming as he watched Colt's belly rebound, the flesh quivering as it reshaped itself.

"Oh fuck yeah, bro," Jacob growled, placing his palm flat against the mark below Colt’s navel.

Before Colt could recover, Jacob sent another punch – this one aimed slightly higher, plowing unimpeded into his navel, where his bowels lay unprotected. The sound was vulgar – a wet thud followed by Colt's choked gasp. I could almost feel the displacement of his guts, and was mesmerized by how soft Colt’s gut was for Jacob.

"Right there," Colt gasped, his voice barely audible. "My fuckin' guts – "

Jacob nodded, understanding exactly what Colt needed. He positioned his fist again, this time pressing his knuckles against the spot he'd just punched. Instead of withdrawing, he began a slow, grinding motion, boring into Colt's soft core.

I watched over Colt's shoulder as his belly distended around Jacob's rotating fist methodically kneading Colt's belly like dough, as Colt’s bowels were displaced into his lower gut or his sides.

"Let me in these guts."

Colt's head lolled against my shoulder, his breath coming in shallow pants. "More," he begged. "Hurt me."

Jacob obliged with a devastating uppercut that lifted Colt's insides. I felt the impact ripple through his back against my chest. His belly briefly hollowed before rebounding with a jiggle that betrayed how completely his muscle control had abandoned him.

After five more crushing blows that left Colt's midsection beaten and loose, Jacob stepped back, admiring his work. Colt's gut now hung slightly lower, the trauma causing visible bulging beneath his navel.

"Time," Jacob said, nodding at me. "Choke him out. I want him unconscious for what comes next."

I shifted my grip, sliding my forearm and bicep across Colt's throat in a sleeper hold. Jacob tied a rag around Colt's head, serving as a gag across his mouth. Colt's pulse hammered against my skin as I applied pressure to the sides of his neck, cutting off blood flow to his brain.

"Deep breath," I whispered in his ear.

Colt inhaled, then, after a moment, went slack as consciousness fled. His substantial weight collapsed against me, but I was ready, catching him in a full nelson with Jacob's help. His arms hung limp over mine. Instead of interlocking my fingers behind his head, I held his head up so his neck wouldn't compress his breathing. The muscles of Colt's back lay useless against my chest as I hoisted him higher, holding his unconscious form upright.

I staggered slightly under Colt's 6’4”, 230-pound frame, my muscles burning as I adjusted my grip to keep him upright. With consciousness gone, every part of him had surrendered to gravity – his shoulders drooped, his knees bent slightly, and his hips fell completely slack.

The transformation of his midsection was immediate and breathtaking. Without the unconscious tension that even relaxed muscles maintain, Colt's belly stretched downward, elongating into a vulnerable canvas. The faint outlines of his abdominal muscles remained visible through his skin – ghostly ridges that no longer held any power.

Jacob stepped back, eyes widening as he took in the sight. "Holy shit," he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. "Look at that. His six pack is completely fucking useless."

He ran his palm reverently across Colt's exposed torso, fingers tracing the soft contours that still bore the memory of definition. "Fuuuuck, yeah. Muscle's still there, but there's zero resistance."

I nodded, adjusting my hold. "He's all yours."

Jacob took a half-step back, measuring his target. His thick arm coiled, muscles bunching beneath the hair-dusted skin. Then he unleashed – a devastating blow that plunged knuckle-deep into the center of Colt's unguarded belly.

The impact was obscene. Colt's gut yielded instantly, sloshing around Jacob's fist like water. I felt the shockwave travel through Colt's entire frame as his internal organs displaced in a liquid rush. His belly dimpled inward, then rebounded with a ripple that traveled across his skin.

The only sound from Colt was the involuntary exhale as air rushed from his lungs.

Jacob withdrew his fist slowly, eyes fixed on the red depression his knuckles left behind. "Fuck, man. Jesus, fuck. It's like punching a sack of water."

He was right. Without consciousness to brace them, Colt's intestines had become a fluid mass, shifting and rolling beneath his skin with each movement. The muscular definition that had been so impressive earlier now only served to frame the soft target they no longer protected.

Jacob didn't wait for the mark to fade. He drove another punch deeper, this one angled slightly upward into the hollow above Colt's navel. His fist disappeared to the wrist, burying itself in the unresisting tissue.

I felt Colt's body absorb the blow differently this time – his guts parting around Jacob's knuckles like disturbed gelatin, sliding sideways rather than compressing. The punch traveled through him in a visible wave, his intestines sloshing audibly as they redistributed themselves.

"Jesus," Jacob muttered, working his fist up and down Colt’s guts while it remained embedded. "Wish you could feel this."

I could see the subtle movement beneath the surface – organs shifting, displaced by Jacob's fist, seeking new space within the confines of Colt's abdomen.

"His guts are fucking jelly," I said, fascinated by the way Colt's internal landscape had transformed in unconsciousness.

Jacob withdrew again, leaving another crimson impression. Colt's belly hung slightly lower, bulging subtly beneath his navel. The definition of his abs still remained, so far.

"Hold him steady," Jacob commanded, his voice dropping to a growl. "I'm just getting started on his intestines."

I shifted my stance, redistributing Colt's weight against my chest. His head lolled against my shoulder, breath shallow but steady through the gag.

Jacob circled us like a predator, eyes fixed on Colt's exposed belly. He flexed his thick fingers, the knuckles popping as he prepared for the next assault.

"Keep him upright," Jacob instructed, positioning himself directly in front of Colt. "I want to feel what happens when I work these sides."

He planted his feet shoulder-width apart, centering his weight. Then his left fist launched forward – a brutal hook that landed just right of Colt's navel. The impact was brutal.

Colt's belly caved inward around Jacob's knuckles, the bowels yielding without resistance. I watched, transfixed, as the contents of his abdomen visibly shifted leftward. His intestines actually bulged against the left side of his abdomen, creating a momentary asymmetry.

"Holy fuck," Jacob muttered, withdrawing slowly. 

Before the displaced organs could settle, Jacob's right fist hammered the left side of Colt's navel. Again, his knuckles disappeared into the soft tissue, and again Colt's internal landscape rearranged itself – this time bulging toward the right. The motion was like watching liquid in a sealed bag seeking the path of least resistance.

My cock hardened against Colt's ass, fascinated by the fluid dynamics playing out beneath the man's skin. Jacob was just as mesmerized. 

"He’s just a sack of guts, man." He pressed his palm flat against the center of Colt's abdomen, applying gentle pressure. "No resistance at all."

I could see what he meant. Despite the ghostly outlines of Colt's six-pack still visible on his relaxed torso, his midsection behaved like a container of warm pudding – holding shape until disturbed, then yielding completely.

Jacob stepped back, measuring his next strike. His left fist drove in again – this time with a twisting motion that sent Colt's intestines churning visibly beneath the surface. I felt the impact travel through Colt's spine and into my chest.

He withdrew and immediately followed with a right cross that plunged into the opposite side. Colt's belly deformed around the impact, his organs forced sideways in a sickening wave. A subtle gurgling sound emanated from deep within the jock’s beaten insides.

The rhythmic left-right assault continued, each punch forcing Colt's battered intestines to slosh back and forth like tide pools. His navel – once the center of his abdominal definition – now served as ground zero for the devastation, the surrounding tissue growing increasingly distended with each impact, Jacob treating Colt’s navel like a boxer’s target.

"Fuck, bro," Jacob observed, pausing to admire his handiwork. "Look how his gut's starting to hang."

He was right. Colt's midsection had begun to sag, the repeated beating causing his abdominal wall to stretch and his guts to swell, settling low in his belly. The definition that had been so impressive earlier now seemed purely decorative.

My arms burned from supporting Colt's unconscious weight. Despite my own strength, his substantial frame was becoming too much to hold upright.

"I can't keep him up much longer," I grunted to Jacob, feeling my biceps trembling with the effort.

Jacob nodded, already moving to help. "Let's get him to the couch."

Together we maneuvered Colt's limp body across the room, his head rolling against my shoulder, his feet dragging across the floor. His weight shifted between us as we lowered him onto Jacob's sofa, arranging him in a semi-reclined position, his back against the cushions.

"Is he still good?" I asked, suddenly concerned by how completely slack his features were.

Jacob checked Colt's pulse at his neck, his thick fingers pressing against the carotid. "Heart rate's strong. Breathing's normal." He looked up at me with that predatory grin. "He's just out cold."

Moving with purpose, Jacob circled behind the couch. He reached down and gathered Colt's wrists, drawing them up and behind his head in a position that made his massive chest expand. The motion transformed Colt's torso – his pecs stretched taut while his abdomen elongated, creating an unbroken landscape of vulnerability from sternum to groin.

I positioned myself between Colt's splayed legs, leaning over his exposed body. The scent rising from his workout-damp skin was intoxicating – raw male musk concentrated in the hollow of his armpits. I lowered my face to the source, inhaling deeply where his tricep met his torso. The sharp, salty aroma flooded my senses, primal and arousing.

While breathing him in, my hands found their way to his gut. I pressed my palms against the soft mound below his navel, feeling the subtle give of tissue. His intestines shifted beneath my touch, pliable and warm. I kneaded deeper, amazed at how his muscular frame could contain such yielding softness.

"His guts feel so good," I murmured, working my fingers in circles. "Everything's just... soft."

Without lifting my face from the heady scent of his pit, I let my hands travel upward, exploring the substantial mass of his arms. My fingers wrapped around his bicep, squeezing the relaxed muscle. Despite being completely slack, the sheer size was impressive – a thick slab of power rendered temporarily useless.

I traced the inner curve where sweat had pooled, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. The contrast was erotic beyond words – this powerful man, built like a fortress, now completely surrendered. His triceps hung heavy and loose in my grip, the definition still visible but the tension entirely gone.

"Fuck, look at him," Jacob whispered from behind the couch, his voice tight with arousal. "He's completely yours."

I reluctantly pulled my face from Colt's armpit, straightening up while still leaning over his body. My cock throbbed painfully as I measured the distance to his exposed belly. Without conscious thought, my right arm drew back, fist clenched.

The uppercut connected with devastating precision – right into the center of his navel. His guts immediately flattened under my knuckles, no abdominal protection at all. Colt’s muscular belly was before me with zero hardness to it – his six pack completely compressed as deep as my fist would go.

"Fuck, man," I gasped, withdrawing slowly.

The impression of my fist remained momentarily stamped into his flesh as his soft, visible abs rebounded with a subtle ripple. His bowels seemed to resettle with an audible gurgle, seeking new arrangement after the punch.

I drove in again, this time angling slightly lower. My fist disappeared to the wrist, burying itself in the soft pocket below his navel. Again, his bowels gurgled as I punched into them, again and again. For a moment – maybe a solid stretch of five minutes – I zeroed in on how soft Colt’s stomach was. Every fucking punch plowed into Colt’s intestines directly, and with arms as powerful as mine, his his bowels didn’t stand a chance. Again and again, with every punch, I obsessed over how immediate and deep my punches were flattening Colt’s guts.

"His insides are just... fuckin' useless," I marveled, grinding my fist in while embedded in his gut.

Jacob's breathing had grown heavy behind the couch. "Keep going," he urged. "Fuck those guts up."

I withdrew and slammed in again, a methodical rhythm that sent visible waves across Colt's abdomen with each impact. His belly, despite the ghosted outlines of his six-pack barely visible on the surface, behaved like water under assault – rippling, distending, and reshaping with each new punch.

"Let's get him on the floor," Jacob suggested, his voice husky with arousal. "I want to try something."

I nodded, reluctantly withdrawing my fist from Colt's warm center. Together, we maneuvered his frame from the couch, Jacob taking his legs while I supported his upper body. Colt's head rolled against my forearm, his breath still steady through the gag.

We laid him flat on Jacob's hardwood floor, his powerful body sprawled like a fallen colossus. I positioned myself above his head, taking his wrists and stretching his arms overhead. The motion transformed his torso – his massive pecs bunched upward, creating valleys of muscle that cast shadows across his chest. The stretch elongated his midsection, causing his chest to rise and his gut to sink in concave, the landscape of his abdomen becoming a taut canvas from sternum to groin.

"Jeeeesus," Jacob muttered, his eyes traveling the length of Colt's displayed body. "Look at that fucking gut just waiting."

I watched as Jacob hooked his thumbs into his sweatpants and pushed them down, freeing his thick cock. It jutted forward, precum long since leaking from the tip. He wrapped his hand around it, giving it several slow strokes as he positioned himself at Colt's side.

"Hold him steady," Jacob instructed, his voice tight with restraint.

I tightened my grip on Colt's wrists, pressing them firmly into the floor. The position made his lats flare outward, emphasizing the taper of his unconscious form – broad shoulders narrowing to a waist that now seemed impossibly vulnerable.

Jacob stepped over Colt's body with deliberate care, placing one foot on the unconscious man's hip to steady himself. His other foot hovered momentarily over the center of Colt's abdomen – directly above where we'd been punching.

"Watch this," Jacob whispered, his hand working his cock in steady strokes.

With excruciating slowness, Jacob lowered his foot onto Colt's exposed belly. The ball of his foot made contact first, pressing into the soft guts beneath the jock's navel. I could see Colt's abdomen immediately give under the pressure, the ghosted outline of his relaxed six-pack offering no resistance.

Jacob transferred more weight gradually, his foot sinking deeper into Colt's gut. The tissue compressed beneath him, creating a hollow that deepened as Jacob shifted his balance. I could almost visualize what was happening inside – Colt's intestines flattening against his spine, displacing fluidly, seeking escape around the man's foot.

"Oh fuck," Jacob hissed, his hand pumping faster. "I think I can feel his guts moving under my foot."

He lifted his other foot from Colt's hip, balancing his entire weight on the single point of contact with Colt's abdomen. The depression deepened dramatically, Colt's belly caving inward around Jacob's foot, nearly flat to the floor. A subtle bulge appeared at Colt's sides as his intestines sought displacement.

"His bowels are just... fuck... they're just liquid under me," Jacob gasped, his voice breaking as his arousal peaked.

He began a gentle bouncing motion, rising slightly on the ball of his foot before pressing down again. Each compression sent visible waves radiating outward across Colt's gut. His intestines made more gurgling sounds as they shifted beneath the rhythmic pressure.

"Oh god, I'm gonna – " Jacob's words dissolved into a guttural moan as his cock pulsed in his grip. Thick ropes of cum erupted from the tip, landing across Colt's chest in hot streaks. The white splashed against the dark hair covering Colt's pecs, pooling in the crevices between his muscles.

"Fuck," Jacob panted, carefully lifting his foot from Colt's abdomen. "That was... holy shit."

I watched, transfixed, as Colt's belly slowly rebounded, his intestines coming back to form. The definition of his abs remained – faint ridges beneath skin that had been stretched and pummeled into submission. The way Colt's body responded – even unconscious – was mesmerizing.

"We should check on him," I said, still gripping Colt's wrists above his head.

Jacob nodded, kneeling beside Colt's sprawled form. He pressed two fingers against Colt's neck, feeling for his pulse.

"Strong and steady," Jacob confirmed, his palm then hovering over Colt's mouth and nose. "Breathing's normal too. He's just... gone. Still out."

Jacob looked up at me, his eyes dark with hunger. "Your turn to finish. How do you want him?"

I considered the unconscious mass of muscle before us, my cock throbbing painfully. "Get him back on his feet. I want him standing."

Jacob's eyebrows raised slightly, but he nodded. "Help me lift him."

I released Colt's wrists and moved to his shoulders while Jacob took his legs. The deadweight of him was substantial – all that muscle still completely unresponsive. We maneuvered him upright with some effort, Jacob grunting as he positioned himself behind Colt's limp form.

I stepped back, watching as Jacob secured Colt in a full nelson, his thick arms hooked under Colt's armpits and holding Colt's handsome head up. The sight was unexpectedly erotic – Jacob's stocky, powerful build straining to support Colt's taller frame. Sweat glistened across Jacob's shoulders and chest, his muscles bunching and flexing with the effort of holding the unconscious man upright.

"Fuck, you look good like that," I murmured, approaching them slowly.

Jacob's face flushed slightly, but his eyes gleamed with pride. "He's heavy as shit. All muscle."

With Colt suspended in Jacob's grip, the transformation of his body was even more dramatic than before. His hips hung completely slack, pelvis tilted forward as if offering his midsection. His large cock dangled heavily between his thighs, swaying slightly with each adjustment of Jacob's stance.

But it was Colt's belly that commanded my attention. Suspended vertically, his abdominal muscles created a topographical map of relaxed power – the ridges of his six-pack clearly visible beneath skin that had no tension whatsoever. His gut stretched downward, elongated by gravity, the definition present but functionally irrelevant.

I stepped close, burying my face in the hollow of Colt's armpit. The concentrated musk there was still as intoxicating as it ever was. I inhaled deeply, letting the scent flood my senses while my hands found their way to his exposed belly.

My fingers traced the contours of his abs, feeling how the muscle lay dormant beneath my touch. I pressed deeper, my palm sinking into his navel. His intestines yielded immediately. I kneaded in slow circles, feeling the contents of his abdomen shift and roll beneath my hand.

"His guts feel like jelly," I murmured, still nuzzling into his armpit.

Jacob adjusted his grip, his biceps bulging with the effort. "Arch him back a little," I instructed, reluctantly pulling my face from Colt's scent.

I positioned myself again, transfixed by Colt's exposed midsection as Jacob arched him backward. The stretch transformed his torso – muscles pulled taut across his frame while somehow rendering his gut even more vulnerable. His six pack, still visible as faint ridges beneath his skin, now elongated like terrain viewed from above, valleys and plateaus mapped across flesh that had no power to resist. His abs so soft, they might as well have been painted on.

My first hook connected just below his navel – a brutal, sideways force that disappeared into the center of his lower gut. His belly imploded around my knuckles, creating a ripple that traveled up his abdomen. His beaten intestines squelched and gurgled, but offered no resistance as they flattened against the back wall of his abdomen. The percussive thud of the punch echoed through his frame – a dull, wet thud followed by the whisper of air forced from his lungs.

I withdrew slowly, watching his gut rebound. The definition of his abs remained, but they were merely decorative.

My second hook plunged into the same spot from the opposite direction. His belly folded around my knuckles, the tissue conforming to the shape of my hand. I felt something shift beneath – a slick movement as his organs rearranged themselves to accommodate my drilling knuckles. The sensation was incredible – not like punching muscle or fat, but like sinking into something thick.

Colt's unconscious body absorbed each impact without protest. No flinch, no brace, no anticipatory tension – just pure, unfiltered surrender. The only response was the involuntary exhale that escaped his lips with each blow, his breath forced out in short, shallow puffs through the gag. As if I were punching a sack of meat.

I shifted my focus lower, measuring the soft pouch beneath his navel where his intestines lay most exposed, settled and bulging out. My next punch drove upward into this tender hollow – a devastating uppercut that sank wrist-deep into his lower belly, forcing the bulk of his useless intestines upward, briefly bulging out his upper belly as a baritone UHH! was forced from his body.

I could see the displacement – a visible surge as his intestines were crammed into a momentary mound just above his navel.

"Fuuuck, you see that?" I said to Jacob, withdrawing my fist.

Jacob nodded, his arms straining to maintain the arch in Colt's substantial frame. "Do it again. Slosh his guts around."

I obliged, driving another uppercut into the same spot. Again, Colt's midsection distorted – concave where my fist entered, convex where his bulge of intestines sought escape. The bulge appeared higher this time, his intestines pressing against the underside of his ribs, beaten and aching.

The sound was brutal – a wet, sloshing noise as his bowels shifted within the confines of his abdominal cavity. Despite the outline of muscle still visible across his torso, his insides behaved like gel under assault – flowing, yielding, reshaping with each new impact I delivered deep into them.

I established a rhythm – methodical, deliberate hooks that sent Colt's internal landscape into constant flux. Each impact created new patterns of bulging and shifting beneath his skin, his organs responding visibly through his toned frame.

His belly, despite its impressive architecture, had become nothing more than a container for the brutality I was creating inside – muscle rendered useless, definition merely an illusion of protection that disappeared the moment my knuckles made contact.

"Keep going," Jacob urged, his voice hoarse with lust. His shoulders strained as he held Colt's substantial frame upright. "Don't fucking stop."

I pressed my palm against the center of Colt’s torso. "All this muscle, completely powerless."

Jacob's eyes were wild, pupils blown wide. "Destroy him," he demanded. "Fucking wreck those guts. I want to feel him twitch when you hit the right spot."

I nodded, stepping back to measure my target. Colt hung limp in Jacob's grip, utterly defenseless. The sweat from our exertion had pooled in the creases of his body – the hollow of his throat, the ridges between his pecs, the line trailing down to his navel.

I cocked my left arm back and drove forward with every ounce of force I could muster. My fist vanished into the center of Colt's navel, flattening his intestines with force. The impact was profound – a dull, wet thud – a sickening compression as his organs flattened against his spine.

But this time, I didn't withdraw. I kept my left fist buried deep, feeling his innards pulse and throb around my knuckles. With my fist still embedded, I watched in fascination as his lower belly distended outward – his intestines seeking escape from the pressure point I'd created above.

"Fuuuuuck, yeah," Jacob gasped, his cock rigid against Colt's back. "Look at that fucking bulge."

Below my embedded fist, Colt's lower abdomen had pushed outward in a visible mound – his intestines displaced by the pressure point I'd created. The bulge pulsed slightly with his heartbeat, a living testament to the intestinal torture we’d given Colt’s body.

Without removing my left fist, I drew back my right arm and sent a brutal hook directly into the protruding mass of displaced bowels.

The impact was incredible. My right fist sank into the mound of intestines that was already compressed and straining, creating a counterpoint to the pressure of my left. Colt's intestines were caught beneath my right fist, squeezed and crushed with nowhere to go.

The texture beneath my knuckles was indescribable – not muscle, not fat, but something more visceral. Like punching into a tightly-packed sack of meat. His lower intestines flattened between my dual points of entry, struggling to find space where none existed.

I withdrew my right fist only to slam it into the same bulging mass of intestines again. The bulging lower pocket of his belly smashed in under my force before rebounding as I pulled my fist back. His lower intestines, already displaced by my left fist, were now forced into a small bulging pocket of his lower gut with nowhere to go, just aching beneath the surface.

"Harder," Jacob begged, his voice cracking with need. "Fucking pulverize those intestines. Make him squirm."

His words lit a fire under me. I drove my right fist into the bulge again and again, establishing a brutal rhythm while my left remained buried in Colt's center. Each impact was a deep thud – his intestines couldn’t be displaced anywhere else. I was, effectively, solely punching Colt directly in his bowels with nowhere for his intestines to go, the only option being for his bowels to just take it.

The sound of his guts held me captivated. Squelches and gurgles emanated from deep within him as I punched his trapped insides.

Jacob nodded frantically, his breathing ragged. "Keep punching. His fucking guts are yours. Take them apart. Fuck yeah."

I could feel Jacob's arousal building again – his body tensing behind Colt's, his breath coming in desperate pants. The way he begged me to continue was intoxicating, his need as raw and honest as mine or Colt’s.

My arms began to feel the pump I usually feel during my boxing workouts as I continued to beat into Colt's intestines. Each punch to Colt's defenseless gut fueled the next one – I could have gone for hours.

"Don't you fucking stop," Jacob hissed behind Colt. His stocky frame trembled with effort as he held Colt's unconscious body upright. "Keep pounding those intestines. Fucking god, that's hot."

Jacob's eyes were almost feverish. Sweat poured down his face and chest as he stared at my fists disappearing into Colt's unresisting midsection. His cock left wet streaks of precum across Colt's back.

I withdrew both hands, measuring the landscape of Colt's abused belly.

His lower abdomen was swollen, the lengthy beating causing distension just above his groin. The skin there had taken on a reddish hue, blood rushing to the brutalized area.

I drove an uppercut into Colt’s body with savage precision, like I had earlier, sloshing the jock’s loose guts from his bulging lower gut up into his upper gut, before they settled lower in his belly again when I pulled my fist back.

The impact traveled through Colt's unconscious frame, and something extraordinary happened. His cock, which had hung heavy between his thighs, suddenly twitched violently. A guttural sound escaped his throat – not quite a moan, something deeper.

"Holy fuck," Jacob gasped. "Do that again. Same spot."

I obliged, driving another uppercut into the exact same location. This time, Colt's entire body shuddered in Jacob's grip. His cock jerked upward, and without warning, thick ropes of cum erupted from the tip, falling freely to the floor.

As his release painted the hardwood between us, Colt's eyes flew open. Consciousness returned in a violent rush – his body tensing as awareness flooded back. His eyes widened in shock, pupils dilating as the full impact of the pain registered.

Jacob immediately released the headlock, supporting Colt as he began to fold forward. Deep, muffled groans escaped through the gag as Colt's hands flew to his battered midsection.

I caught him as he doubled over, his substantial weight nearly buckling my knees. His forehead pressed against my shoulder as his body curled protectively around his devastated core.

"Easy," I murmured, reaching up to remove the gag. "I've got you."

The moment the cloth fell away, Colt's groans became more articulate – deep, guttural sounds that vibrated against my chest.

"Fuuuuck," he moaned, his voice hoarse and broken. "My fucking guts – oh, fuck."

Despite his words, I felt his cock still rigid against my thigh, still pulsing with aftershocks of his orgasm.

"Too much?" I asked, supporting his weight as he clutched his belly.

Colt shook his head against my shoulder. "No," he gasped. "No... it's fucking incredible. My guts have never ached like this."

I held Colt's weight as he continued to groan against my shoulder. His hands pressed desperately against his abused gut, fingers splayed across the reddened flesh.

"Fuck, Leo," he gasped, voice raw and broken. "My intestines are fucking wrecked."

His eyes, still dazed, drifted downward, noticing the wetness along his shaft. He followed the trail to the floor where thick ropes of his release glistened on the hardwood.

"Did I... did I cum?" His voice was equal parts confusion and awe. "While I was out?"

"Yeah," I nodded, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice. "Right when you came to. Your gut took a direct hit and your cock just erupted."

Colt's eyes widened, a fresh wave of arousal washing over his face. "Fuuuck, that's hot!" His hand pressed deeper into his lower belly, wincing and moaning simultaneously. "My guts ache so fucking bad. It's fucking perfect."

"Let us lay you down," I offered, glancing at Jacob who was already moving to help.

Colt nodded weakly, his legs still unsteady. "Yeah. I need... I needed to feel this. All of it."

His hands cradled his midsection. Despite the definition still visible across his torso, his belly moved differently now – a subtle, fluid motion beneath the surface with each labored breath.

"Sit down," I instructed, guiding him toward the couch. "Let's get you down."

Jacob rushed ahead, arranging pillows at one end. Together, we lowered Colt's substantial frame onto the cushions, arranging him in a semi-reclined position. His hands never left his midsection, cradling the damaged terrain with reverent care.

"Fuck," he whispered, a grin spreading across his pain-etched face.

Jacob stood beside the couch, his cock still rigid and leaking. "You want to finish?" he asked me, eyes darting between my erection and Colt's reclined form.

I nodded, my own arousal practically painful at this point. "Yeah," I said, my voice rough with need. "But only if you punch it out of me."

"You want me to beat the cum out of you?" Jacob's eyes lit up with a dangerous gleam. A slow smirk spread across his face as he advanced toward me.

Colt remained on the couch, one hand pressed against his devastated abdomen, watching us, nursing intestines that had been completely rearranged.

Jacob backed me against the wall with surprising force, his stocky frame as powerful as I remember him being as he pinned me with one forearm across my chest. His free hand fumbled for the poppers on the side table.

"Open up," he commanded, uncapping the small brown bottle.

I brought my head to the bottle. The chemical scent hit me first – sharp and medicinal – before I inhaled deeply, pulling the vapor straight to my brain. He switched to my other nostril, and I drew in another long breath, feeling the rush begin to build through my belly.

The effect was immediate and overwhelming. Heat flooded my face and chest, spreading outward in pulsing waves. My muscles went slack beneath Jacob's arm, my entire body softening as the poppers took hold. The room seemed to tilt slightly, edges blurring as my focus narrowed to the pressure of Jacob's body against mine.

"There you go," Jacob murmured, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. "Let me in."

His meaty fist traced a slow path down the center of my torso, knuckles dragging across my six-pack. Despite my regular training, I felt my abs melt beneath his touch – definition still visible but utterly useless as my muscles surrendered to the chemical relaxation flooding my system.

"Look at that," Jacob said, pressing his palm flat against my midsection. "All that muscle, and it just turns to butter when I touch it."

From the couch, Colt shifted to get a better view. His left hand remained protectively cupped around his battered gut while his right wrapped around his cock, already hardening again despite his recent orgasm.

"Fuckin’ wreck him," Colt encouraged, his voice hoarse and hungry. "Beat those bowels, Jacob. His gut can take it."

Jacob's eyes never left mine as his fist drew back, measuring the distance to my exposed belly. I saw the intent in his gaze – the hunger, the precision, the promise of devastation.

"Relax for me," he whispered.

The first punch landed straight into my navel – a brutal hook that plunged deep into my abdomen. The air left my lungs in a violent rush, but the poppers kept me from tensing, leaving my gut completely vulnerable to the invasion.

"Fuck," I gasped, the word barely audible.

Jacob didn't hesitate. His second punch drove his knuckles into my lower gut, uppercutting my loose guts like I’d done to Colt. The pressure in my lower guts was already enough to get me close to cumming, especially after wrecking Colt’s guts.

"Look at that," Colt called from the couch, his hand working faster. 

The third punch was devastating – a cross that buried itself to the wrist in my midsection. My insides flattened under Jacob's fist like a sack of jelly, offering no resistance as he twisted his knuckles against my inner walls. The sensation was indescribable – pressure that seemed to reach my spine, a pressure toward orgasm, and beneath it all, a building pressure in my groin.

"Yeeeah," Jacob growled, his breath hot against my ear. "I'm gonna punch that cum right out of you."

Jacob returned to uppercuts, again driving his knuckles into my loose lower guts, smashing my intestines deep into me, returning the gift I’d given Colt.

OUGGHH – 

The pressure of Jacob’s fist in my guts exploded from my core. My cock jerked as release tore through me, painting Jacob's stomach and chest with thick ropes of cum. My knees buckled, and I collapsed forward into Jacob's waiting arms, his fist still buried in my devastated gut.

"Fuck," I panted against his shoulder, my entire body trembling with aftershocks.

Behind us, Colt moaned deeply as his second orgasm hit, spraying across his already-battered midsection. His cum glistened against the reddened landscape of his abused belly, a testament to the shared destruction we'd both endured.

Jacob held me upright, his fist slowly withdrawing from my core. I felt my insides shift again, seeking peace in the aftermath of his brief assault.

"Fuck," Jacob said. "You boys are something else.”