Hey everyone. Here's another gut punch story. This story was initially written as my friend, Rocky Jordan, invited me and some of his other fans to come up with our own interpretations of these images that he created. He's been making gut punch images like these for years now on his Facebook page. I really liked what I came up with and thought it was really hot, so I wanted to share it here. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Click the Read More button at the bottom or the title of the story to read the full story.
The calisthenics coach was working out shirtless at the outdoor fitness corner again.
Jordan was in his late twenties and was becoming something of a household name in his city. He had been working out since he was 15, and when calisthenics ballooned in popularity in recent years, he realised he could convert his love for his own muscles and body into a career.
Although he was not formerly a calisthenics athlete, his muscular build allowed him to pick up the various acrobatic manouevres quickly. Once his front planches and muscle-ups looked convincing enough, he launched a training service, which grew a sizeable local clientele consisting of the teenage boys in his area hopping on the trend.
They had no idea their coach was himself a relative newbie to the world of bodyweight training. They were going to learn soon enough that the coach’s muscles, that strapping six-pack he loved to show off, were also just for show.
As he was doing pull-ups and showing off his sculpted musculature to anyone walking by, Jordan had no idea that a disgruntled father of one of his students was watching him from behind.
Mike’s son had enrolled in Jordan’s calisthenics training programme. His son idolised Jordan. His reverence for the muscular 28-year-old started out innocuous enough: talking about Jordan’s taut physique, sharing details about his huge biceps and pecs at the dinner table, and working out at home to get closer to a body like Jordan’s.
Mike thought it was fine – boys need a role model to look up to and Jordan seemed like a reasonable, healthy, muscular subject for his son to follow after.
Things took a turn for the worse when Mike’s son began disrespecting his father. Mike’s son adopted Jordan’s alpha male parlance, littering his speech with vulgar and provocative language.
His idolisation of Jordan also bordered on the extreme. Mike noticed that his son had started printing out pictures of Jordan shirtless and pasting them on his bedroom wall. He couldn’t help but wonder if his son’s respect for Jordan went beyond physical admiration of a strong physique into a homoerotic attraction to his calisthenics coach.
Whatever the case was, Mike knew he had to put a stop to his son’s disrespect towards himself and his son’s unhealthy obsession with Jordan.
Mike was planning to beat Jordan up and show his son how weak, how “mortal” Jordan and his muscles were.
Stepping out from behind Jordan and into the hunky calisthenics coach’s peripheral view, Mike started: “Wow, I can see why my son talks about your muscles so much. Looking ripped, man.”
In fact, his elevated public profile was part of what made Jordan enjoy being a calisthenics coach so much. He was recognised by people in the city for his rock hard body specifically. It was a huge ego boost for Jordan, who had always put in so much hard work and time into honing his body.
“Thanks! Who’s your son?” Jordan replied, while flashing a winning smile. He continued hanging from the bar just to give the man a better view of his pumped muscles.
“Nick. I’m Mike, by the way. Nick’s been telling me about how big your biceps and chest are. He says you’ve got abs of steel.”
Mike moved closer to the hanging stud. He reached out an open palm facing Jordan’s striated six-pack and looked at Jordan, as if to ask “May I?”
“Go ahead, man. Touch my abs of steel for yourself,” responded Jordan to the unspoken question between two men.
Mike ran his hand over Jordan’s six-pack. Damn, Mike thought, this guy’s midsection is solid as hell. He testingly used a finger to prod Jordan’s core. Mike wanted to see how deep his finger could penetrate Jordan’s flexed abs. His finger didn’t get very deep.
Could I really beat this guy up, Mike thought. I’ve got to. I’m sure his pretty boy abs are going to break – those muscles are just for show, Mike steeled himself.
“You, uh, you ever do any gut punching as part of calisthenics training? My boy said your abs are invincible,” Mike said tentatively.
Jordan let go of the bar and eased into a comfortable lean against a pole. He was projecting confidence, as if he was totally unfazed by what was essentially Mike laying down a gut punching challenge.
Like many calisthenics athletes, Jordan had taken on many punches to his unbroken six-pack. But his challengers had always been his students, not the full-grown father of one of those students.
Jordan was slightly amused and wondered, even if just for a second, if he could really take this man on. He looked at his opponent: Mike looked like he had some muscles under that black T-shirt, but he wasn’t as built as Jordan himself was. Yeah, Jordan thought, my abs aren’t going to be defeated by this guy. He’ll take a couple shots before giving up and realising why his son says I’ve got abs of steel.
“That sounds like a challenge, you sure you're up for it, old man?” Jordan replied teasingly.
“It is a challenge. Let’s see how much those ‘abs of steel’ can take,” Mike said.
Jordan was taken aback by Mike’s frankness.
“All right, man. Don’t blame me if you break your fist, brah,” Jordan said with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. He looked down at his abs, thinking there was no way his student’s old man could defeat him.
Mike took his phone out for a moment before the challenge. He texted his son: “Come to the exercise bars in an hour. I’ve got something to show you.”
Then, he opened the camera on his phone and placed it in a spot where it could capture the gut punching challenge.
Jordan watched as Mike placed his phone down. Was this guy really recording this?
“What’s that for?” the muscle stud asked.
“Just wanna record it so my son can see how his coach’s rock hard abs get destroyed,” Mike replied.
Jordan chuckled lightly. This guy was bonkers.
“What the fuck was that? You really think you’ve got a chance against my fuckin’ –”
TTHHHHUUUDDD
Jordan was not expecting Mike’s fist. He was mid-sentence and could not flex in time. His legendary six-pack was completely unguarded for Mike’s punch right into his solar plexus.
“Shut up,” Mike simmered.
Pain raced through Jordan’s mind. He was not going down this easily! His muscle memory kicked in and his muscles instinctively flexed, preventing Mike from digging deeper into his torso.
Jordan grunted and his body started folding around Mike’s punch.
FUCK, Jordan thought to himself, this guy definitely punches harder than my students.
The calisthenics coach’s hands flailed around clumsily, in stark contrast to the strong, acrobatic, and controlled motions of his exercises.
Jordan couldn’t help himself. The calisthenics coach doubled over, his body jack-knifing around the impact that left his prized midsection on fire.
Every fibre of the stud’s body was protesting against this pathetic position betraying his weakness, but Jordan’s hands instinctively reached to cover his bruised abdominals.
Seeing the athlete in this position – after just two punches to his so-called “abs of steel”, no less – Mike felt deeply satisfied. He detected something like pleasure too at the sight of Jordan doubled over.
He looked down at the crumpled bodybuilder. He had caught Jordan off guard and unflexed with those punches, but still, two punches? That was all it took to knock the wind out of the stud that all the boys in the city look up to? That was all it took to break the stud’s facade of arrogance and invincibility?
“That’s it? What happened to those steel abs, man? Felt pretty soft to me,” taunted Mike.
Mike’s words stung Jordan’s pride. He had a lot more in his tank. His muscles were built through more than a decade at the gym. He wasn’t going to let some random, less muscular dad bring him to surrender like that. His abs weren’t defeated at all. He was just caught off guard.
Jordan stood up from his doubled over position after catching his breath.
“Those were some fuckin’ cheap shots, dude. I didn’t think an old geezer like you would play such a dirty game. You caught me off guard is all,” Jordan said groggily, still reeling from the impact of the two surprise punches.
Mike was surprised at Jordan’s bravado, but a part of him also felt excited that the calisthenics coach refused to admit defeat so easily. Maybe he is a real man, Mike thought.
“All right, tough guy. You want some more? Those abs are looking a little red.”
“Fuck you. You think you can really beat me up? I’ve never lost a gut punch contest,” Jordan retorted. The stud flexed his abs, signalling to the older male that he wasn’t out of the fight yet. Even though his abs were indeed reddened, they were still tough, solid. Those abs of steel were nowhere near defeated.
Without a word, Mike took the two red resistance bands that Jordan had been using for training and used them instead to secure the coach’s muscular arms to the bar.
In this position, Jordan’s abs were stretched out and offered less resistance than they would have if they were flexed normally. Jordan hadn’t accounted for this. He was certain he could take punches with his abs flexed, but this compromising position made him rethink the challenge.
Whatever, Jordan ultimately thought, at least I’m not fully stretched out. I can still maintain a good flex.
Now fully bound by his resistance bands to the bar, Jordan’s perfect body was on full display to the older man.
The “old geezer” suddenly didn’t look so old or incapable. Jordan re-examined Mike, taking in the way the older man’s pectorals could be seen through his shirt, the way Mike’s biceps filled out the arm holes, and the look in Mike’s eyes.
It was a look that said: I’m going to teach this punk a lesson.
Jordan felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. Had he taken on more than he could handle? Should he have simply surrendered after the two surprise punches? Surely there would have been some way of salvaging his reputation; he could say that in a fair gut punch challenge, his wall of muscles would have deflected the blows.
Now, his legendary midsection was really going to get tested. There was no squirming out of this one – the resistance bands made sure of that.
Jordan saw the first punch coming. Mike’s left fist wasn’t as strong as his right one.
The calisthenics stud flexed his abs in time for the impact.
THUDD
He was feeling better about his odds now. Jordan definitely felt the punch, but it was nowhere near as painful as the first two punches Mike had thrown.
“How’s that, coach?”
“Your punches aren’t nearly as strong when I’m flexed, bro! Your left fist needs some work.”
His face wrinkled in concentration, Jordan thought that he could take whatever punishment Mike threw at him. He was going to emerge from this still as the undefeated coach and those cheap shots Mike threw in earlier would serve to highlight how his abdominal muscles could bounce back from anything.
Then, Mike threw a right cross directly into the part of Jordan’s midsection that he previously targeted.
The area was already sore, after taking a punch from Mike while unflexed. This punch landed deeper than the previous one.
HHHNNGG
It elicited a low grunt from Jordan, who was now struggling against the resistance bands. The irony was not lost on him that he had used those same resistance bands to help build his godlike physique. Now, those same bands were being used to hold him, to prevent him from protecting his muscles.
He felt a mix of humiliation and surprise – there’s no way Mike was actually making his wall of abdominal muscles hurt!
“Starting to hurt?” Mike asked flatly, observing how Jordan’s head hung down, looking at the fist making contact with his abs.
Mike’s face betrayed no emotion. The man was stoic, analysing Jordan’s body systematically like a punching bag he had to break. He was focused on one thing only: beating up the sexy calisthenic coach’s abs, turning the source of his pride to mush, and exposing him as a weakling to his son.
Mike sensed Jordan’s physical and mental state was weakening.
I’m gonna break this guy, Mike thought to himself, as he pulled back both his fists and launched them simultaneously into Jordan’s softening midsection.
Jordan saw both fists approaching his core in slow motion, the stronger, right one aimed at his solar plexus and the left one headed towards the already-softened middle part of his torso.
SSMMMACCKK
“FFFFUUCKKKK,” Jordan seethed, as he threw his head up towards the sky.
Both fists landed deep into the coach’s abs. They weren’t looking unbeatable anymore. The previously undefeated coach was quickly headed towards a humiliating loss at the hands of an older, less muscular man.
Jordan flexed as hard as he could; his obliques popped into sharp definition with how hard he was flexing. But the fists dug in, ignoring the desperate muscular resistance that the stud was putting up.
“Told you I was gonna destroy your pretty abs,” Mike taunted.
“F-fuck you.. I haven’t… lost yet,” Jordan managed.
“Oh yeah?” Mike replied, before launching his left fist into Jordan’s solar plexus.
Jordan’s abs were on fire now, he could barely catch his breath with the relentless barrage of punches that Mike was socking into his midsection.
His face twisted into a mask of pain as he kept all his focus on flexing his abs. He couldn’t let Mike defeat him. He was meant to be the man that everyone looks up to. His abs had never let him down in any kind of physical competition before.
Jordan’s thoughts of his pride and muscular strength were interrupted by Mike: “This is my left fist, man. Thought you said it was weak. Why are your abs buckling from it?”
Mike cast an incisive look at Jordan, as if he wanted to see how deep his mockery would sting the athlete’s pride.
Jordan hated Mike at that moment. He couldn’t believe that his incredible abs were being destroyed by one of his student’s fathers. He wanted to break free, to push Mike away and see how strong Mike’s abs were compared with his.
But a part of him knew that he had asked for this – all the flaunting of his shirtless body, the refusal to back down even after he had doubled over.
He felt humiliated that Mike was even using his weaker fist to push deeper into his weakened six-pack. His abs were quickly losing their strength, but he couldn’t let Mike know just how soft he was getting. Although he suspected Mike could already feel it. Jordan’s calisthenic muscles were turning to mush!
“I’m not on my fuckin’ knees yet, am I?” Jordan spat back. “I’m still fuckin’ undefeated.”
Mike was incensed at Jordan’s words, yet strangely aroused by the stud’s display of utter masculinity. He was refusing to admit that his abs were not invincible despite all his grunting and desperate flexing that signalled otherwise.
Then, Mike thought about his son. And how he was losing his son to Jordan because of the latter’s undeniable masculinity and admirable body. He really wanted to ruin Jordan, to make Jordan admit that his abs were weak and that he wasn’t the unbreakable stud he struts around as.
Mike elbowed Jordan’s sore, red gut.
“WHAT THE F–” Jordan shouted as the bony elbow felt like it hit several internal organs and drove the air out of the muscle boy’s body.
Mike stopped punching. He observed Jordan after the elbow.
The once-formidable calisthenic coach’s legs had given out under him. He perched on one of the rungs of the exercise bar behind him for support.
Jordan was heaving. He looked down at his midsection.
He had never before seen his own abs look so… weak. They looked soft and doughy. Mushy.
Both men were silent. The only sound that could be heard was Jordan’s deep breaths as he tried to replenish the oxygen in his body. Jordan’s once-solid stomach rose and fell with every breath.
Jordan wanted to flex. He wanted to show Mike that his abs were still invincible. But he didn’t have the strength to do it. The unbeaten coach was… Jordan didn’t want to admit it.
Mike looked at Jordan’s cratered abs. They didn’t look so sexy anymore. If his son were here to see Jordan in this condition, Mike was sure his son would stop bragging about his coach’s “abs of steel”.
Jordan looked pathetic. With each deep inhalation, his gut hung slightly over his shorts, no longer able to flex into the flat, perfect six-pack that he was used to showing off.
“Looks like I broke you, coach.”
“I… I haven’t… lost… yet.”
Mike couldn’t believe what Jordan said. Jordan was the clear loser of this gut punch challenge. But he was so damn cocky he couldn’t admit that he was defeated, even with his abs unable to flex.
As Jordan was exhaling, Mike knew he had to teach the coach a lesson once and for all.
The silence between the two men was broken with a loud punch.
TTTTTTHHHHHUUUUDDDDDD
Mike’s fist fully penetrated Jordan’s battered abs mid-exhale. The impact to his destroyed midsection made Jordan’s toes curl in pain. There was nothing left of his legendary six-pack.
Jordan hung his head in shame and humiliation, as Mike brought his closer.
“Say you lost. Say your abs are broken,” Mike whispered to the coach.
Jordan was silent, fighting back tears as both his pride and body felt destroyed. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Mike dug deeper into Jordan. His fist met little to no resistance as Jordan’s midsection was totally pulverised.
“Say it,” Mike seethed, pushing his fist deeper into his son’s once-unbreakable idol.
Jordan grit his teeth, fighting against the pain that was exploding across his ruined core. He thought back to all the times he had told his students to take free shots at his abs. He thought of how casually he had deflected all their blows, leaving each session with his midsection completely indifferent to the physical beatings.
He could never be the same. This was a humiliating beatdown that studs like him aren’t meant to suffer. He’s meant to stay undefeated but here, in this exercise corner, the source of his pride, his perfect abdominals, were completely pummelled.
Mike pushed even deeper. FFFUUUCKKKK, Jordan thought, I CAN’T…
“I LOSE,” Jordan said, mustering whatever strength he had left.
“FUCK YOU, I LOSE.”
Mike removed his fist from Jordan’s now-ruined midsection. He had practically rearranged the coach’s internal organs.
Jordan hung limp from the resistance bands; there was no doubt he would be too weak to do pull-ups for weeks now.
Mike unbound the defeated coach from the resistance bands and Jordan immediately fell to the floor, a pathetic mass of muscle.
“Why…why’d you have to do that, man?” Jordan said in between breaths, with utter humiliation hanging on every word.
Jordan looked away in shame, unable to face the man that had destroyed him in such spectacular fashion.
Mike couldn’t think of an answer for Jordan’s question. He wanted to show his son that Jordan wasn’t as invincible as he thought he was, but why? Why did Mike feel the need to destroy the young athlete’s guts and force him to admit his defeat? Why did Mike want to take this guy down a notch?
The truth was that Mike wanted his son’s respect. He also wanted Jordan to stop emulating Jordan’s cocky and vulgar behaviour.
“You were asking for it. You gotta stop showing off those muscles. My son kept talking about how strong his coach was and I got fed up. I wanted to take you down a notch,” Mike said.
A bitter taste filled Jordan’s mouth. He had been taken down a notch, for sure.
Mike walked away, unsure what else to say to the fallen titan. He picked up his phone from its recording position.
Jordan had all but forgotten about the phone in his suffering.
His face started turning red, thinking about how humiliated he would be if the video ever got out. He remembered that Mike said something about recording a video to show his son how his coach’s abs would get destroyed, but that was purely hypothetical. Jordan did not expect he would actually meet the end of his undefeated streak today.
Shit, oh fuck, Jordan’s mind raced, what the fuck is everyone going to think of me when they see my shit get rocked by this old man? Fuuuckkk they’re gonna think I’m a pussy.
Jordan wanted to protest, to get Mike to delete the video. But he felt how sore his abs were and realised he had lost all leverage.
He was no longer the alpha male dominating the city. He was no longer the unbreakable calisthenics coach with the abs of steel. Mike had defeated him in a resounding victory. Most people would still be scared of Jordan when he was fully recovered, but the seed of rebellion and dissent would linger in their minds.
If Mike could do this to Jordan, then so could anyone. Well, if they managed to catch his abs off guard and tied him up, at least.
As Jordan began puking his lunch out, he thought to himself: No more fuckin’ free shots when it comes to gut punching. It’s gotta be a punch for punch. Jordan wasn’t going to lose in such a one-sided manner anymore.
Mike looked back while walking off, seeing the muscular coach crumpled on the floor puking. Jordan was clutching his red, defeated gut with one hand and propping himself up with the other.
Mike felt empowered. He examined Jordan’s huge muscles one last time: the rippling back, the developed pectorals. Even his abs still looked strong despite how soft and sore they were.
Mike looked down at his watch: It had taken about forty minutes to break the unbreakable.
In about twenty minutes, his son was going to arrive at the exercise corner. Mike hoped his son would know why he had called him over.
After puking his guts out and catching his breath, the calisthenics coach managed to stand up again.
He held himself up using the bars in the exercise corner, still heaving. He still couldn’t quite straighten himself out completely as his abs were still on fire.
The bruising on his pulverised midsection was a deep red. He could flex them now, but only very slightly. They were nowhere near their legendary status just less than an hour ago.
Jordan knew he had to get home. He couldn’t risk letting anyone walk by the exercise corner and seeing him in this condition. But if they did, he would just brush it off and say he had a difficult workout.
Jordan saw a figure approaching from a distance.
“What do you mean ‘he’s all mine’? Where are you, dad?” Jordan could make out the figure saying to someone on the phone.
Jordan looked up, his body still doubled over and trying to recover from the bashing he had received.
He felt gut punched when he saw Mike’s son approaching the exercise corner.
mhmmm sequal pls.
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