Shorts: Lazy Sundays...

Part of the shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time. 

 

 

 

The scene was really so basic American, that it could have taken place in any small city or old town. Kevin was middle-aged, solidly built but really unremarkable and never really standing out personality wise. His hair clung thick to his chest and arms, with his nature themed tattoos covering most of his upper body. He worked, he slept and he did nonsense on the weekends, pretty much like any other single American male. The guy that was next to him on the sofa, watching TV like it meant something, was James. James, also single and not caring, was slightly younger (not that it mattered much in your 40's), taller, and have a build that even a baggy shirt couldn't hide. Lady killer the boys at work called him. James, paid such nicknames no mind. During the day on weekdays, they worked at the local factory. They traded their labor, sweat, blood and youth for pennies on the dollar, and making some stuck up fat cat rich idiot even richer. During the weekends, they hung out a lot, mostly at James’s apartment. Beer, cheap takeout, the TV always on in the background. Not saying much, because they really didn't need to. When one got up for another drink, they grabbed another, for the other. When it was time for a new show, they changed the channel. They knew each other, and what clicked well. It was the kind of friendship and understanding that felt needed after dealing with everything and everyone else during the week.

Shorts: A friendly Holmgang

Part of the shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time. 

The two had known each other for years. They trained side by side through countless sessions, pushing each other on the heavy bags, spotting each other in the weight room, trading jabs during sparring rounds, and offering quiet encouragement before real fights. No matter what happened, they had each others back in and outside the ring. Brothers you could call them. Not by blood, but by choice. In the world of boxing, or any fighting sport really, where rivalry could turn bitter, their bond was different. It was built on trust, sweat, and a shared respect for the grind. So when the idea of facing off finally came up, it wasn’t born from ego or any need to prove who was better. It was more like checking in with an old friend, seeing how far they’d both come, testing themselves the way only two people who truly knew each other could. The day it happened, there was no big announcement, no flyers, no hype. Just a mutual nod, it was of quiet understanding. They each laced up their gloves without a word, stepped into the ring, and met in the center, calm, focused, and smiling just a little.

The "official" bell was a timer app running on someone’s cracked phone, resting on a bench outside the ropes. The crowd was whoever happened to be in the gym that day. Some guys mid-set on the bench press, a couple trainers on break shooting the shit over water, a handful of regulars who knew this wasn’t something to miss. No one yelled, they didn't have too. No one called out odds, it wasn't that kind of fight anyways. There was just a low hum of anticipation, knowing it would be a good male time. More importantly, there was no bad blood in the air. Just the heat of the gym, the sound of gloves tightening, and the quiet kind of energy that comes from two men about to share a fight, not to hurt each other, but to honor each other.

Series: Gut Punch Journal - Entry 5

These stories started off as a standalone short, meant to be a one off tale that sparked unexpected interest. Got a few comments and request about wanting more, and so here we are! "Series" with feature recurring characters, themes, and an expanding world that continues to unfold, one story at a time. Also yes, this series does feature the actual meetfighters site.

Journal Entry #5 – June 20, 2024

It’s been a couple months since the last entry. Took a while to bounce back after what happened with Ademir, not just physically, but mentally too. I needed the space. I needed to remind myself that this isn’t about pain or pride, it’s about control, clarity, whatever I’m still trying to name. It was a painful lesson but one I obviously needed. I don't hate Ademir either, don't get me wrong. He gave me what I wanted and asked for. Thankfully, while he still pushed hard, he saw me, and gave me what I needed too. But yeah, I wasn’t even planning on setting up another match yet. I think I was still a little iffy about everything, and I wanted to be sure. Like sure sure, you know? But then I got a message from a guy named Eli. Username was something simple, “NiceBoyFighterNextDoor.” His profile was honest. Nothing flashy, nothing aggressive. Just: “Lean build, into gut punching and long friendly matches. Respectful, chill. Just want to test limits, together.”

He attached a couple photos, like most of the guys did with their profiles. But unlike the others he wasn't trying to show off. They were him, real, every day. Kinda cute.... shut up I didn't just admit that. Maybe that's what changed my mind. Eli, did I mention I like his name, well he's close to my age. He's got a nice body too, it's slim, but toned. It reminds me of a swimmer who stopped competing but never stopped moving. He may have moved into other things, but the drive was still there. He also has a bit of a dusting of chest and stomach hair, like someone pressed a brush across him lightly. He's pale but with the kind of flush that hinted he sweated easily. Definitely Irish, and it worked for him. And finally, something about his eyes made him look like he smiled often, even when he wasn’t.

We chatted for some time, starting with the usual casual back and forth. It came so easy, he wasn’t trying to impress me or show off. It was normal, grounded, even for people who liked fighting. It was almost like we been chatting forever, like we been friends since grade school. He would ask what kind of hits I liked, how long I’d been doing it, if I was okay with slow builds instead of hard slams. I was honest, I told him I’d had all kinds, fast, brutal, drawn-out. Said I was still figuring out what I liked best.

He replied, with absolutely zero judgment, “Sounds like you’re getting closer. I'd be happy to help if I can man!"

Series: Gut Punch Journal - Entry 4

These stories started off as a standalone short, meant to be a one off tale that sparked unexpected interest. Got a few comments and request about wanting more, and so here we are! "Series" with feature recurring characters, themes, and an expanding world that continues to unfold, one story at a time. Also yes, this series does feature the actual meetfighters site.

Journal Entry #4 – April 28, 2024

I told myself I’d write this the same night it happened, but I.... I just couldn’t. My hands were shaking to much. Way tooooo much. My head was fuzzy, confused maybe, trying to process everything that happened all at once and way to fast. My stomach, my sides, my whole freaking everything, it still feels like the muscles are vibrating under my skin. They should be fully healed soon, well soonish, but the high of it all? The pure emotional power of it all? That will take a couple more days to come down from. To finally relax and think clearly again. Like actual me again. Ugh, yeah so it was crazy, in case you couldn't get that. Even now, a week later is it, sitting here with an ice pack balanced across my stomach, I’m still not totally sure how to make sense of it.  But I know I need to try. I need to write. I can't just document the good parts, I can't honestly explore this otherwise. Can't be honest with myself otherwise. And, if you are reading this, please understand this. I don't hate the guy, not one bit. When I say red flags, I mean flags I should have seen in me. Experience that I should have put a stop to right away. But I didn't, and that's on me. You see with him, I honestly got lucky. It was a painful lesson to be sure, but one I needed. 

So onto the story? 

 

It was, because of course,  another match from the fight site where you meet fighters. 

 

With two good experiences already, I had nothing to worry about! Right? The first red flag that I should have saw, was his screen name. Dói Tão Bom. I thought it was just some reference to his nationality, I should have looked a bit deeper. But I didn't, I was too preoccupied with his great looking profile. Ademir, as I would learn his real name is, was Brazilian, mid-30s, living on the other side of town. His profile was short and blunt: “Hard body puncher. I don’t hold back. Don’t ask unless you’re serious.”

I was serious or at least I thought I was. 

We messaged, a lot of back and forth, for a couple of days. He was respectful, but clear, direct and to the point on what he wanted and expected. Ademir liked to push people past their limits. Really dig deep and test a man. He didn't handhold or engage non-manly crap. You faced him, you faced him for real. It also wasn't some cruelty fetish thing, it was a test, a real test of strength, power and manhood. 

“If you want to know yourself,” he wrote once, “you have to go to the edge and beyond.”

That line stuck with me. Maybe too much. I really should have thought about this more, better... 

Series: Gut Punch Journal - Entry 3

These stories started off as a standalone short, meant to be a one off tale that sparked unexpected interest. Got a few comments and request about wanting more, and so here we are! "Series" with feature recurring characters, themes, and an expanding world that continues to unfold, one story at a time. Also yes, this series does feature the actual meetfighters site. 

Journal Entry #3 – March 23, 2024

I’ve also been thinking a lot about that meetup with Rick. The power of his hits, how he kept such control, and made it such a amazing experience. That moment stuck with me, with such force, force that I wanted. When he caught me when I stumbled, doubled over, when I fell but didn't want to stay down. When he finally broke me. I’ve caught myself walking around work some days, stomach tightening when I remember the impact. Not in fear. Not even in anticipation. Just remembering the feeling of my body absorbing something like that. And yeah how I wanted it again. I mean if I'm going to do this right, explore it and find out what it means to me, and if I really want it...im going to have to do it a few times at least. So I went back on the site, thought I have a single message at most. Probably addressed to someone else. Someone better than me, better looking, better built, better able to take a hits and be a man. Yeah I'm working on self confidence thing too, bare with me. Anyways, imagine my surprise when I saw a lot more than just one message. Like a lot more. I read them all, thanked each and every one for messaging me, reaching out to make me feel wanted for once. I wanted to meet them all, even the odder ones, but one really really stood out. 

 

Series: Gut Punch Journal - Entry 2

These stories started off as a standalone short, meant to be a one off tale that sparked unexpected interest. Got a few comments and request about wanting more, and so here we are! "Series" with feature recurring characters, themes, and an expanding world that continues to unfold, one story at a time. Also yes, this series does feature the actual meetfighters site. 

 

 

 

Journal Entry #2 – February 17, 2024

I’ve been thinking a lot about that fight. How I was forced into it, for reasons I still don't know. How it was my first fight ever really. Been thinking long and hard about it. More than I probably should. It’s been sitting on my chest like a weight I can’t shift. Not that I would really want to. You see all this, it's not in a bad way. It's all more like a memory I keep coming back to, reliving it, pressing on it, testing how it makes me feel. Is that weird? Normal? I don't know, but as my generation is ever so fond of saying... it is, what it is. I told my therapist I’ve been journaling (is that a word?) about the fight, about how it made me feel physically and mentally. She thought it was progress. I didn’t mention everything.... I don't think I can yet. I have no idea how they would react if they knew I enjoyed it in the end. I don’t know why I like it. It’s not sexual, at least not yet. It may very well become that, but it's just... well I don't know what it is. Maybe that's why I keep writing you know?  It’s just... something in the force of the blow, the way my body braces and absorbs it, the way it breaks me down in the end, empties me out. Like it resets something. But to really understand it all, I needed to be sure it wasn’t a one off fluke. Some bs misfire of my brain or some other techno babble explanation. 

 

So I went online. 

 

If I went to a bar, club, park or something public it could have ended in a bad way. Public humiliations you know? At least online I can search, research and the like without being judged... yet. And you know what? It worked! Sure you're probably going to think I'm insane (I'm still not sure if I am or not) but, I found a site, “Meet Fighters.” Yeah, I laughed too. But it was surprisingly, to me at least... normal. Sure it was literal real people looking for real matches, but there was no judgement, no questioning, just accepting who you are and what you wanted. Some guys were looking for sport, some to play out a fantasy they had, some to find themselves, and some for other reasons. It just clicked, felt right, so I made a profile. Kept it honest: average build, 5’11”, some body hair, not looking to be seriously hurt, just curious about body shots. Sure I wasn't impressive, but I was trying. 

 

A guy named Rick messaged me within a day. 

Series: Gut Punch Journal - Entry 1

This story, well now stories, started off as a standalone short, meant to be a one off tale that sparked unexpected interest. Got a few comments and request about wanting more, and so here we are! "Series" with feature recurring characters, themes, and an expanding world that continues to unfold, one story at a time.

January 17, 2024

It... Damn.

Sorry....Ffs I'm apologizing in writing to paper.

I must really be messed up... 

OK focus... It's still a lot to process. Feelings suck sometimes. 

OK... So, I remember it was bad. Even now weeks later, I can still feel the phantom pains of it all. My stomach still jerks and pulsates when I'm still. My therapist said writing it down might help. 

I think it's bullshit, they could never really understand all this, but when your shit insurance is finally paying for something, I guess you gotta do. 

So here goes... 

 

It was raining hard, I can see and remember that clearly. It was the kind of bullshit rain that soaked you down to the bone, and made every breath feel like steam off a dying fire. It was like I was in some dark YouTube video or found footage horror movie. What I don't know... Is how it started. Maybe it was something I said? He said? Maybe the other guy was just looking for someone to bleed? Maybe we both had to much to drink and did something really stupid? 

I really don't know... 

Maybe that's why I can't let this go. Not knowing does things to the mind. Maybe I'm not realizing something yet? Anyways, all I do remember is I blinked, and I was outside in the alley, some dirty back alley behind the bar, and this guy was standing in front of me with his fists clenched tight like iron.

He didn’t speak, just paced angerly. The rain made his skin shine, his shirt tight, muscles twitching like they were on a hair trigger. He was same age as me and about the same build. Average, maybe, but every inch of him said he was about to make me feel everything bad in the world. He wanted to make me hurt. 

Then he moved. Gods he was fast.