Welcome: Here's a preview

Thanks for checking me out. Let me introduce myself. Stay for the preview at the end.

I’m Leo, I’m 28, gay, and I have a huge fetish for brutal gutpunching. I’m a consultant in New York City, but my job flies me out to locations around the world. In those cities and at home, I meet up with like-minded fetishists for some hot gut abuse, whether I’m giving or taking it. These are the stories of those beatdowns.

Most stories will take 10-30 minutes to read and include lots of fun details and characters you either care about, or at least want to punch (in a good way, promise). Every story includes at least one image. New stories drop twice a month – on the 15th and on the last day of the month – at 6:00AM New York time.

Mark your calendar.

Author’s note: The stories you will read on this site will be one of several things:

• Either it’s inspired by a real gutpunch meetup I had,

• or it’s totally made up by me,

• or it’s a collaboration with a reader:

  • Readers may collaborate with me to bring their original character(s) and storyline(s) to the page.

  • Have a gutpunch scene you really want to see fleshed out? Hit me up with your ideas at this link to begin.

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PREVIEW: from “4: Jace & Reggie (Amtrak)”

Finally, it was a little after 10PM and the train had gone quiet. The lights in the hall of the sleeping car had dimmed. By now, Jace was off for the evening. He gave a quiet knock on my door. When I answered, his eyes were already lasered in. I knew he’d taken beatings to the guts before, and knew he’d given them, too. We both preferred one-sided beatdowns, which are essentially all I engage with anyway.

“Whose guts are first?” I asked as he removed his uniform. I’d only undressed to my jeans; he was taking everything off. I followed suit and dropped my Wranglers and Calvins. He finished removing his uniform to reveal an average cock with an ultra-groomed bush as he turned back toward me. His abs and pecs were just as marvelous as his photos. His pecs hung out over his stomach with respectable heft. The deep creases in his six pack made me start to drool – literally. He was clearly flexing his abs – for now – to show them off to me.

“Fuck, man,” he said. “Those cum gutters are perfect.” He traced the V-taper of my obliques and abs down to my dick. “Beat my gut first, man. I gotta have it. No limits.”

As he finished the sentence, he backed up to the wall that led to my ensuite bathroom, careful not to use a wall that directly separated me from Mrs. Cussler.

“So, no limits on any of it?” I asked.

“No blood, no broken bones, no permanent marks. But that’s it. Just pound into me.”

“Yeah?”

“No limits otherwise. I just want these guts to hurt,” His head had lowered as he gestured to his belly. He looked back up to me with only his eyes, which begged.

I remembered what had once been told to me, and said it to Jace as I gently pressed my fist on his rock-solid navel: “I don’t want to feel any muscle here. No muscle at all. I don’t want to feel a single muscle fiber engage. I want to punch intestines only.”

I watched his cock immediately achieve a rubbery hardness with only the command. His marble six pack relaxed into just a soft, spongey outline of the abs that were so on display only a moment ago.

With his six pack relaxed, his belly was actually softer than I thought. I played with his navel for a second, tracing it with my finger. God, his guts are soft, I thought. I pressed my index finger into his loose belly, feeling his vulnerable intestines inside squish under my pressing.

I launched a hard navel shot into Jace’s soft belly, flattening those six ab muscles — still barely visible! — into his spine. The breath forced out of his body was so honest and deep. He was sincerely keeping those abs soft for me while my fist stayed buried in that slack six pack.

His mouth hung open from the forced exhale of my fist slamming his intestines into his diaphragm. He just looked at me, breathing through his mouth. I finally pulled my fist back from his navel, watching his spongy six pack rematerialize before me, still totally soft.

“Get in there,” he pleaded.

I launched another punch into his doughy six pack, again earning a solid breath out of him. I would normally start with soft punches, as a way to work a guy’s guts into the beating. But he was a no-limits kind of guy, so I pushed the envelope a little bit with a hard strike into the pit of Jace’s stomach, above his deep navel and just below his diaphragm. His breath silently forced from his mouth without even a whimper from the man. My fist plowed straight into his soft organs, the impact into Jace’s upper guts briefly causing his lower abs to bulge out with the displacement of his intestines.

I pulled my fist back and slammed it into the same spot once again, this time an uppercut, punching those soft guts into his diaphragm. Again, the breath was punched out of him; but this time I earned a soft moan. I still hadn’t felt his abs tighten at all. I really dug my fist into his diaphragm this time before pulling back. I noticed if I really dug deep, his eyes began to roll back.

I peeked down. His cock was as hard as it gets, already beginning to leak precum. But then again, so was mine.

That was all the inspiration I needed to keep going. I sent upward of five, 10(?) more punches into his loose belly… twenty, maybe? I wasn’t counting; I only knew that each right hook into Jace’s gut was met with complete surrender – every fucking punch felt like I was slamming my fist into a sack of liquid.

“Alright, c’mere,” I said, pulling him into me by his shoulder. He doubled over with the force of my pull, landing his head on my shoulder, with him bent at the waist. He stood there against the wall with me holding him up on my shoulder, his still-defined – but red – belly had begun to hang out, loose as it was, after such a beating. That beaten, bulged out, slack lower gut was the target I’d been waiting for.

I mean, he did say “no limits”.

I launched into a slow, powerful round of uppercuts into that protruding sack of guts, beneath his navel, compressing the full bulk of his completely wrecked intestines into his upper belly.

“Fuck – oh, fuck,” is all he could say as every punch brutalized his useless guts.

“Here – fuck – right here,” he said, gesturing to the center of his V-lines, just below his navel. “I’m gonna cum.”

I forced him back up against the wall, sinking my fist straight-on hard into his spot. And again. And again. Each punch rippled a shockwave through his body, plowing his intestines into his back.

Finally, a first for me: He came – unassisted – purely from my fists. As my fist disappeared deep into his lower guts, thick lines of cum burst from his cock. For good measure, I sank a few more punches into that same spot, to which his cock replied with a few more releases, before he was finished.