7: Mads (Shrike Ranch)

Finally got the road trip I’d been wanting.

I had far too much PTO saved up and decided a month away from everything would be perfect. I rented a little Chevy and hit the road from New York going south. I had plans to travel down the Eastern Seaboard, over to Texas to say hi to my family, out to Los Angeles, to Seattle, across to Chicago, and back to New York through Nashville and Appalachia.

I was already nearly two weeks into the trip when I was flying through the Texas Hill Country at 1PM on a Friday. My grandparents live out here and I’d left their place about an hour ago on my way toward Marfa, where I hoped to spend the night.

That’s when my day took a turn for the unexpected.

I was horny. I was in the middle of nowhere Texas in the middle of the day and was so… lusty. Almost as a joke to myself, I opened Grindr while I waited to pay for a coffee in a gas station. To my surprise, there were dudes online. Of course, I know gay people are everywhere. But anyone who’s ever opened Grindr in the middle of nowhere knows that, typically, you might see one guy a mile away, then everyone else is the next town over. Two towns over. Etc.

But this time, I opened the profile of the closest guy. I swiped to see the next closest, and so on. There were like ten guys, all about 2,800 feet from me. That was when one messaged me.

His profile name was Mads, and he was a hot ginger with a nice beard.

New in town? He messaged me.

Passing through. What’s going on tonight?

Spankers Speakeasy if you’re down.

Idk what that is…

Oh you’re really from out of town. It’s a pop-up gay bar we do once a month. Guys from Brenham to Waco make their way over for it. Got about ten dudes chillin over here so far. Way more by sunset.

I was typing a reply when he followed up: Oh, it’s for fetish guys tho. If that’s not your bag, don’t worry about it.

I deleted whatever I was writing and instead replied, Love impact play.

His only reply was the smiling devil emoji and an address.

Could I get murdered? Oh, absolutely. But am I going anyway because I’m a horny 28 year old man? Also yeah. I walked the coffee back to the coffee station and poured it out. I should probably hydrate instead. I paid for a bottle of water and hit the road toward the address Mads had sent me.

The black asphalt was like a black ribbon laid upon the undulating landscape, which was painted with blooming wildflowers that wafted their fragrances on the hot breeze and folded into the earthy aroma of grasslands and livestock.

I pulled my rental up a long dirt driveway before coming to a stop near a large one-story house, surrounded by other vehicles. My air conditioning had stopped working days ago just outside of Atlanta, so I sat for a moment in my car, windows down and without a shirt, feeling a drop of sweat navigate itself down the center valley of my abs, disappearing into the depth of my navel. I could already hear music playing in the house.

I stepped from my car wearing only my cut-offs, no shirt, with my white tee hanging out of my back pocket like a handkerchief. As I briefly debated with myself whether to put the shirt on before going inside (it is a fetish “bar” after all), a man opened the door to the house – apparently surprised to see me.

“Well, come on in,” he said. He was also shirtless. Looking past him into the house, I could see the other guys were shirtless (or pantsless), so I forgot everything about whether I should be wearing a shirt or not and walked over.

Mads was just inside. Shirtless with blue pants, he looked like he had a nice, soft belly but was reasonably fit. Nice lion’s mane of red hair. Handsome guy – even more so than his pic on Grindr.

“Leo!” he said, as if he’d known me our whole lives. I was confused how he knew my name, until I remembered that it’s just my name on Grindr.

“Mads, good to meet you,” I answered. He pulled me in for a hug.

“Sweaty muscle beast, huh?”

I gave a half-hearted chuckle. “No A/C in my rental.”

“Half the dudes in here have no A/C in their trucks, you’re good.”

I looked around the house. All the blackout curtains were drawn and very few lights were on. It really gave a club atmosphere… if the decor in the club were just someone’s home.

“So, ‘Spankers Speakeasy?’” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah, the guy whose house this is? His name’s Roger and he’s really into spanking,” Mads explained, pointing to a man of about 50, in pretty good shape, standing by the “bar” in the corner, which was a credenza with a twink in a Blinn College tee behind it serving beers from a cooler. “Sometimes Roger does public demonstrations. But the guys who come are into all things fetish, not just spanking. Sometimes you’ll get other spankers, sometimes someone shows up with a whip, occasionally you’ll see a dude consent to take a punch. It’s a good mix.”

I realized I’d been nodding along the whole time. “Hot. Nice sense of community out here.”

“Definitely,” Mads continued. “So, uh, impact play?” His eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, that’s my thing. You?” I asked.

“Me too,” Mads began. “Hit me anywhere. Hard or soft as you like, long as you do it with love.”

“Yeah, specifically into gutpunching, really,” I said. Our eyes had been locked the whole time.

“Like, you’re talking punches to the gut? Not fisting?”

“That’s right. Giving or taking it. Love both. Love the pain, too – gotta keep those abs loose.” I was getting a little more comfortable in the unfamiliar scene, drawing on Mads’ apparent interest.

“I didn’t know that was a fetish other guys have, but I’m very into it,” he said. “When I’m sub, I’m sub. When I’m dom, I’m dom. I want to feel my sub in pain and loving it – or I want to be the sub in pain and loving it.”

I could feel my belly contracting with the familiar feeling I get when I know I’m about to get my guts rocked by a guy.

“I know you just got here, but wanna go somewhere private?” Mads asked. I agreed. We stood and walked to the door.

“Ooh – Mads is taking home the fresh meat!” I heard a guy shout. I didn’t even realize people had clocked me, a new guy, walking in earlier. It was Roger.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mads responded. “Remember the D in my name is silent, asshole.”

The guys in the club laughed before one of them cracked a bad joke about Mads’ “D” before we were out of earshot.

It was almost 15 minutes driving up the highway before we got to Mads’ ranch. The fenceline was well manicured, but a treeline blocked all view of his home. In fact, we drove up his driveway for about five full minutes before we arrived at his house.

The heat enveloped me as I stepped from my car, drawing the moisture from my pores. I watched a drop of sweat fall to the ground and evaporate instantly in the searing heat. Mads, still shirtless and still covered in sweat, stepped from his car.

“We’re gonna go in here,’ he said, gesturing to what appeared to be a detached garage. A group of three horses – two brown and one white – hung out in the shade of an oak tree in the pasture ahead.

I followed Mads through a gate and toward the garage, where it appeared that Mads had a gym set up. Our sweat-dampened bodies brushed against each other every now and then. Mads' body was fit, but trim. He had a nice slim belly with little abdominal definition, but muscular pecs and big, beefy arms.

He wore blue jeans and work boots, his hands rough and calloused. I noticed that his biceps bulged as he unlatched the heavy door, showing off his strength.

"Come in, Leo," Mads said, gesturing through the door to the garage.

My heart raced, my pulse thrumming in my veins. The air was thick, the scent of sweat filled the gym. My cock was already getting hard at the sight of Mads' rugged, handsome build. The heat was oppressive, but the promise of what lay ahead was just intoxicating to me. The walls were lined with weights and equipment. We sat down on a weight bench, as Mads presented a bottle of ice-cold water. We passed it back and forth, taking sips until it was empty. With no more water, Mads came in for a kiss, our lips each cool to the other's touch. The kiss sent a surge of desire coursing through me, my cock hardening beneath my denim cutoffs.

Mads pulled back from the kiss and looked at me, his eyes fixated on me. He leaned back, as if to present his belly. Excited by the invitation, I moved forward to caress Mads' soft gut.

The contrast between Mads muscular, rounded pecs and the soft, round mound beneath my hands was intoxicating. I could feel the warmth of Mads' skin radiating from his gut, and could tell that Mads was intentionally keeping his abs relaxed, allowing his belly to swell and fall with anticipation as he breathed.

As my hands moved lower, Mads' gaze locked onto mine. His eyes widened as my hands roamed over his torso, tracing the lines of his muscles and feeling the heat emanating from his skin. I gently pressed my fist on Mads' navel, sinking my fist deep into the rancher’s soft gut. Mads let out a moan, his body trembling with excitement.

"Oh yeah," he hissed, his voice husky with lust. "That feels so good…"

I smiled. "I think that's enough foreplay," I murmured.

Mads nodded eagerly, his gaze locked onto my handsome features. "Yes, please," he gasped, his voice hoarse with passion. Mads stood from the bench and crossed to a heavy bag which hung against the wall. He stood with his back against it and relaxed his abs. I saw Mads' belly visibly go lax.

"Punch me in the stomach. I need to feel your fist inside me."

I couldn't believe how turned on I was by Mads' words. I knew that the rancher was a fetishist, but hearing him beg for it was incredibly erotic. I stepped forward, My cock already throbbing with anticipation.

"Fuck yeah. You want it?" I asked, my voice low. "You want this fist in your guts?"

"Do it," Mads pleaded, his voice quivering with desire. "I need it. I want it to hurt."

You know how I am. I couldn't resist. I offered him poppers, but he declined. I slipped them back in my pocket. I stepped forward, my fists clenched tightly. I moved closer to Mads, his cock hard as stone, barely contained by his sweat-soaked jeans. "I'm dying to feel those fists destroying my own guts, too," I whispered into Mads’ ear, pressing my body against his with my fist on his gut. "But first I gotta see how much punishment you can take."

Mads grinned wickedly, his eyes sparkling with lust.

"Bring it on, bro," he growled, his voice letting its baritone show. "Show me what you're made of."

With my fists primed, I began with a solid shot deep into Mads' relaxed belly, striking the young rancher's navel. Mads' soft, unprotected intestines bore the strength of the punch. My fist sank straight in, earning an involuntary flex of Mads’ abs as the pain hit him.

“OOH! Fuck; oh, fuck–” Mads let out an honest reaction to the navel shot.

“Nice gut,” I quipped. “You like this? You want more?”

I still had my fist pressed into his guts, grinding my fist in his soft belly. His abs had relaxed as quickly as he’d accidentally flexed them.

“Oh, fuck,” Mads whimpered. “Oh, please bro. More. I want it bad.”

“Yeah?” I drove an uppercut into his protruding lower belly, earning a hearty grunt from the man.

“Fuck–” he said.

And a hook right to the pit of his belly folded him onto my shoulder. I held him for a moment as he caught his breath.

“Come on, tough ranch man,” I joked. “Let me feel those innards under my fist again.”

“My innards?” he said coyly as he massaged his own belly, standing back up straight against the heavy bag.

“Without these abs in the way,” I said as I tapped his belly with the back of my hand, “what do you think I’m punching?”

His face changed, like, as if he’d been gooning. “Oooh, fuck bro. Yeah. Punch my innards, man. Hurt me. Punch my innards.”

I couldn’t tell you what, but something about that really turned me on.

I slammed another cross punch right into his navel, earning an “OOH!” from him while my fist surged through his spongy belly. The heat between us intensified as my punches grew harder and deeper, my muscular body glistening with sweat in the midday light leaking in through the single window to my left. Mads' relaxed belly expanded and contracted with each impact. But Mads apparently loved it, as he was one of the most vocal guys I’ve ever punched.

"Yes, Leo," Mads gasped, his voice hoarse with lust. "Punch me. I want to feel your strength."

Punching into his gut was a dream – he’d managed to keep his abs relaxed since that first punch, which allowed me to really drill into his easily accessible intestines. I began to focus on his navel, so perfectly positioned in the middle of his gut, making it my goal to train his guts to take my fist until I drill it into his spine.

"OOF! Yes," Mads groaned after a particularly good punch rocked his navel, his voice hoarse with lust. "Fuck my guts, bro."

I shot a wicked grin. "You want more? You like feeling my fist pounding your soft guts, huh?"

Mads whimpered softly, his belly swollen and distended from the repeated punches. “I’m trying not to cum, bro. Not yet. Please," he gasped, his voice hoarse with lust. "I need more. Punish me."

I smirked. "Yeah? I've got more," my voice low.

With a sudden burst, I lunged forward and crushed my right fist into Mads' belly, my knuckles striking the rancher's vulnerable gut with unrestrained ferocity, blowing deep into Mads' soft guts, crushing his loose intestines as deep as they'd go. After a painful mixture of a grunt and a yelp, Mads shouted.

"FUCK! YES!" Mads screamed, his voice hoarse with lust. "Hurt my guts, bro. Please. Hurt my guts!"

Mads cried loudly, his voice echoing through the dimly lit garage. "Give me everything!"

Mads yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. His belly was now distended and completely soft. I wasted no time responding. I methodically slammed my fists into Mads' gut, each punch landing with the sound of fist on meat. The rancher's grunts and moans echoed through the room, his voice hoarse with pain and pleasure.

"Oh fuck! Yeah!" Mads shouted, his voice strained, desperate, and breathless. "More, bro. Please.”

God, my cock was only swelling harder as I beat his belly deeper. My goal at this point was to ensure that Mads' intestines would be sore for days.

I drove more punches in, my knuckles digging into the rancher's vulnerable gut. Each impact reverberated through Mads' body, his gut straining to contain the force of my blows.

"I want more... I need more," Mads whimpered, his voice quivering. "Please, Leo. Please give it to me."

He reached up and grabbed the top of the heavy bag he was standing against, exposing his pits and that rounded belly. His navel, so deep and perfectly centered on his gut, made the perfect target. I pushed my index finger into his soft belly button, eliciting a geep moan as I fingered his intestines into his spine. Fuuuuck, I could really get deep in this gut.

I shot a hard impact into his navel, blowing his guts out into his obliques, bulging as his soft organs made way for my fist. He moaned deep before catching his breath, “Bro, fuck!” he shouted as I pulled my fist back. “Okay, okay, okay—”

Mads rubbed his belly and took a breath. “Fuck that last one was insane,” he said. “My guts are fuckin wrecked man.”

I reached up and rubbed his belly for him, massaging that gut.

“Your turn man,” he said. “I need to feel how deep I can get in here.” He reached out and placed his hand on my stomach.

“But I’m gonna take you somewhere,” he said.

I followed him out the door, still aware I could get murdered, but I believed in him thus far. We walked under the blazing sun, sweat dripping down our muscles as we crossed his horse pasture to the treeline. In the sun, you could really see how red Mads’ stomach was from his beating. Through the trees, in the middle of the woods, a small cabin came into view.

“This used to be the old well house my great grandparents used to access water,” he said. “Now I come here just to be dark and seedy.”

He laughed, and a sinister look flashed across his face.

Dark and seedy, it was. Remnants of a well did, indeed, rest in the corner of the shack. Elsewhere, he had boxing gloves, rope, and other fetish gear laying around. He picked up a pair of gloves with hard, weighted knuckles.

“Against the wall, bro,” he said.

He walked up and rubbed his fist along the center crease of my abs, wearing the gloves with the weighted knuckles.

“Unflex, bro, unflex,” he said. “Relax. Let me sink it in.”

I hadn’t realized my six pack was tight and rock hard. I relaxed, loosening my gut for him, bulging out the waistline of my cutoffs, which he unbuttoned and unzipped.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. “This gut.”

He pressed into my lower belly, crushing my lower intestines into my body. I moaned as he pressed deeper and deeper, just below my navel. “Fuuuuuck—” I said with ache.

“Tell me, Leo,” he said. “Just how extreme can I go on you?”

My cock came alive once again.

“No limits on me,” I said. “Beat my guts hard. Beat them deep. Love it deep, man.”

I got myself comfortable against the wall, and removed the small bottle of poppers from my pocket.

I continued, “You want to be an extreme gutpunch dom? Keep me poppered up. Make me take the punches. And if the poppers are too intense and I fall to my knees, or if I’m on the verge of passing out, you better use that opportunity to pound into me.”

I’d never held a more captive audience.

“Deep, slow, torturous shots into my navel if the poppers overwhelm me,” I finished. “I want to come-to to the feeling of you pounding my unconscious guts.”

“Take a hit,” he said. He put his hands on my pecs, cupping and feeling them as I took a hit of poppers and felt my body loosen up, and felt the familiar popper-induced urge to get my guts absolutely fucking wrecked.

He knew the moment had come. I set the bottle down and he threw a hard sucker punch into my bowels, right on target with my navel.

It wasn’t that strong, but it was enough to plow into my soft belly, and he went deep, holding it there.

“You want extreme?” he said. “You want gut pain?”

He ground his knuckles into my intestines. My loose guts churned under his fist, earning a moan out of me.

“I’m gonna hurt you.”

He pulled his fist back and I put my hands behind my back, arching slightly to present my soft muscle gut to him.

“You want pain?” he said. “Suck your abs in. Show me an ab vacuum.”

I did as I was told. I sucked my abs in, in a bodybuilder’s vacuum pose, using my hands to hold my unbuttoned shorts down and open so he could still access my entire stomach. In this pose, I contracted my abs inward but tried to keep them as relaxed as possible.

My sucked-in belly was perfectly concave, except for that since I’d tried to not “flex” my abs, you could see a small mound of guts centered around my navel area.

He felt my concave belly with his hand before launching another boxer’s cross into my navel. Directly into the small mound of guts.

The impact nearly folded me. The grunt he’d earned from me was one I hadn’t heard myself make before. The pain of the impact into my sucked-in belly was incredible, doubling me over for a moment.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I want that again.”

Of my own volition, I sucked my belly in again.

Again, he flattened the guts around my navel, doubling me over with a strong shot right into the mound. The punch again got an incredibly pained grunt out of me. Doubled over, I held onto the muscular arm he was using to crush his fist into me.

“We’re gonna keep doing this, yeah,” he commanded of me. “When you double over and let your gut go loose, I’m fucking feeling your organs push back into my fist while it’s still in you.”

His face was fuckin wild, man.

“Suck it in,” he commanded again.

The smell of his pits was getting to me, too. So sweaty with the perfect amount of musk without crossing the line to body odor. Or maybe I was smelling my own sweaty pits?

“Wait,” he said. “Poppers. Now.”  I did as I was told and took another deep hit. Then, I sucked my belly in for him again.

My mind fiending for gut pain because of the poppers, I got what I wanted. He targeted the little mound of innards again, sending another painful shock through my body. I could already feel a beat of pain radiating from my intestines, but didn’t want to stop.

“Shorts off, bro,” he said. We both removed our shorts so we were totally nude. Both of our cocks were hard already.

In the confined space, another intoxicating smell hit me. Poppers, pits, and now his cock. Or mine. We both had substantial musk coming from our pits and hairy cocks, which was adding to my increasingly gooned out state. Cock musk, precum, and pits… my holy trinity.

Fists still sporting his weighted gloves, he pushed me back against the wall as I stood back up from removing my shorts.

“Poppers,” he commanded. I did, again.

As soon as I set the bottle down and put my back against the wall, his muscular body drove the hardest punch yet — another straight-in cross — directly into my navel.

My unflexed muscle gut felt like I’d been kicked by a horse — he drove his punch as deep as he could with one single, powerful shot. My navel hit my spine and my intestines were briefly displaced anywhere they fit, mostly bulging out my obliques and lower gut, before he pulled back.

“I’ve never hit a guy that hard,” he said. “You’re a tough motherfucker.”

I was catching my breath — and loving every ounce of pain in my guts in the process.

“It feels so fucking good,” I said. I was going to add something else, but I didn’t get to complete my thought before an uppercut slammed into my lower belly, directly in the center of my V-lines above my cock.

“OOF! Fuck — oh, fuck yeah,” I managed to get out before another uppercut blew through my lower guts. “Oh fuck, man. Yeah, destroy these guts, man.”

The poppers were really getting to me. I don’t think I was making much sense.

He put his hand against the wall behind me, bringing his face in close. God, the intoxicating smell of the musk of his armpits was right there. “I’m gonna finish you off, bro,” he said. “What’ll it take?”

“Put your pit in my face,” I managed to say, guts aching and still catching my breath from the prior punches. “And punch relentlessly with the other fist.”

His face looked like he’d never been more turned on. With his left hand, he took the back of my head and rammed it into his own left armpit. With my back still against the wall, my beaten, aching gut hanging out of my body, his right fist shot an uppercut deep into the pit of my stomach above my navel.

The pain was fucking extreme, nearly buckling my knees. The impact punched all the breath out of me into his armpit. I gasped, unable to breathe, when he shot a second uppercut to my bulged and beaten lower gut. No breath could be punched out of me, but his fist flattened my lower intestines into my back.

All I could do, with just a small gasp, was to moan loudly like the gooned out sub I was while his fist remained crushed into my guts.

“Another hit of poppers,” he commanded. “Last one. Gonna make you cum, bro.”

I hadn’t quite completely come down from the last hit, but took another. This one hit stronger than the rest, temporarily making me lose grip on reality.

He sensed it. I wasn’t losing consciousness per se, but I was gooned out of my mind by now and definitely not coherent.

He swooped in, his muscular arms holding me up, and while I was trying to become coherent again, he fired off shot after shot into my navel. His muscular build and beefy left arm helped to pin me up against the wall, practically standing with his body against mine, with just enough room for his right fist to pound my navel in.

Despite my mind not being here, I could definitely feel what was happening to my body, though I had no control over it. Abs completely relaxed and useless. While my mind is floating in space, I could still feel every impact. I couldn’t tell where I was or who I was even with, but I could feel that my intestines were getting fuckin blitzed.

My gut was just intestines now. No abs at all. Every punch was orgasmic in nature; every time his fist slammed into my soft navel, he churned it in my guts before the next shot. He stayed on my navel, continuously hammering deep into the center of my gut.

“Cum for me, bro,” he said.

I was coming-to. I could recognize that the orgasmic punches I’d been feeling were exactly what I’d asked for. I felt a rush come over me. “Fuck yeah, man,” I said. “Beat it out of me. I’m close.”

I jerked my cock while he laid another punch into my guts.

God I’m so fucking close, I thought.

Mads delivered a more powerful shot into the pit of my belly, winding me and almost doubling over. But Mads didn’t allow that. He held me up and before I caught my breath, drove navel shot after navel shot into my belly with his weighted gloves, crushing my beaten intestines into my spine with each impact. The feeling was so overwhelming, along with all the musk, that these devastating navel shots got me to shoot a huge, worked-up load of cum all over Mads’ work boots.

“Fuck yeah! Goddamn bro,” Mads said, coming in for a hug. He held onto me for a moment. We just breathed.