In the dim living room, Wannabe Bodybuilder had Viny pinned hard against the wall, one thick hand brutally choking his throat, veins bulging as he squeezed the air out of him.
His other arm reared back, sweat flying, and drove a savage fist deep into Viny’s soft, unprotected gut. The heavy punch sank knuckle-deep into the warm belly flesh, making it cave and bulge obscenely around his knuckles.
He didn’t stop.
Relentless, wet gutpunches hammered Viny’s abs over and over. Each brutal blow folded the sweaty, tender midsection inward, turning the once-firm belly into a soft, quivering mess. Wannabe twisted his fist on impact, grinding deep into the guts, feeling the organs shift under his knuckles while sweat poured down both their heaving bodies.
He tightened the choke, lifting Viny slightly off the floor, and growled right into his face:
“Take it, you weak little b. Your f gut belongs to me now.”
The punches grew nastier — faster, deeper, meaner — each one landing with raw power, reddening and swelling Viny’s belly until it was bruised, bloated, and completely destroyed under the merciless beating.
Sweat dripped from Wannabe’s massive chest straight onto the ruined, throbbing abs as he kept choking and gutpunching without mercy.
